Dear Reader,
It seems that when you are young, the world is huge and endless. Endless knowledge, endless lands to explore, and endless people to meet. But there comes a time in your twenties where you slowly realize that even though you may never visit every corner of the earth, meet every person that there is to meet, and read every book there is, you can still get a good grasp of things and realize how finite and frankly boring the world can be.
You can travel to a new place, wonder at its natural beauties and ancient ruins, and still realize after a while, that it is just someone’s lame hometown that they go back to for Christmas and try to avoid any awkward encounters with their high school ex. I was raised in the vacation spot of America. Tourist fatigue can be real, but I do know why people love to visit. I am partial to the warm gulf waters myself and the encompassing sunsets of Florida, but that was home. I could go to the beach almost any weekend that I wanted, I didn’t even have to pay for lodging because I could just crash at my grandparents. Other people saved a lifetime just to visit for a few days that they would remember for the rest of their lives with a picture on the mantle. Even now that I have lived in South Dakota for four months, I find myself less amazed by the vastness of the prairie. Now I feel just as windblown as the brown grass hills and with a perpetual squint, whether that is from the wind or the fact that I need glasses, I am not sure.
This past week I finally finished a book that I had been reading all summer. It is about an Englishman who travels from China to Syria along what was the Silk Road in the early 2000s. It describes the traces of powerful civilizations that once transformed the course of the world that are now mystically remembered in stone or half buried in sand. It gives the perspective that Europe being the main powerhouse of the world is a relatively modern development in the scheme of history and erases the thought that western and eastern civilizations were isolated and ignorant of each other before the world became connected by sea exploration. In this book my hunger for ancient experiences was somewhat alleviated but made the modern inhabitants of the land sound suspiciously like your average neighbor that lives down the road. Most of these people mourned what had been or potential that never fully matured, lack of opportunities, and frustration with the government. But there were also dreams of future prosperity, peace, and pursuit of humble interests that relive the soul for a while.
This of course brings things into reality and back into your bedroom. It is like climbing Mount Everest and then thinking on the plane ride home, “Now what?” To accomplish most things in this world, no matter how high and mighty they sound, it usually takes a boring amount of hard work and dedication. I will never be an Olympic swimmer, but I can still put in the same amount of water time as Michael Phelps. It won’t land me in the Olympics, but the steps are the same for everyone. Wake up, work hard, rinse, and repeat. The adventure stories that I love to read often involve a lot of trudging through the woods in less-than-ideal conditions, something I have done in search of cows multiple times, but with less fantastical results.
Often what is amazing about things that people accomplish is the hard work and dedication. Think of the ancient Pyramids (which ever ones you prefer), they are architecturally amazing, especially when done without modern technology, but some of the mystery is taken away when you know the math functions involved (not that I actually do and please don’t send me an email explaining them). When I achieve something that I have worked hard for it feels good for a few seconds, but isn’t that the logical outcome of my hard work?
Sometimes I worry that I am never satisfied with new things, be it accomplishments or new places to visit. I always want to do more, see more, and know more. Sometimes I understand Alexandar the Great’s weeping when he thought about running out of land to conquer. But the unsatisfaction that we experience in our lives is evidence that there is something that was lost. We do not live in the world that God intended us to live in, rather in a fractured version that will be made whole when Christ returns. We often think about the big things that will be set to right on His return: justice, no more death, reunion with our Creator, but a part that is often overlooked is the nagging longing we all experience but fail to admit, will finally be satisfied.
