San Fransisco Day One: Shorelines/Transitions

I'm going to San Fransisco today. HyounJun and I packed our bags this morning and are currently driving up the coast on highway 1. It's beautiful. Every corner we turn, there's a new picture, a shoreline I have never seen before. The Bible says that God's mercies are new every morning. I swear, one of these days I'm going to remember that for longer than thirty seconds. I keep taking pictures over and over again. They disappoint me. I don't think a picture could capture what I'm looking at. That's the frustrating thing about art, or trying to be an artist. No matter how good you are, nothing compares to the original. So I'll just watch for a while. Pictures are a waste of time here. I'll just save them for when HyounJun and I are posing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. That's a man made structure. Those are less intimidating to photograph. We are almost out of gas. It's been about 20 miles since we've seen a gas station, and according to the street signs, it will be another 10 miles until we reach any sign of civilization. The warning light is on. HyounJun is worried. I am praying. I don't worry in the same way he does. I have been well provided for. We found a gas station (of course we did), fueled up, and continued. The scenery is beautiful. Beautiful and familiar. The city lights of LA have nothing on the ocean's blue, the green of the trees, and the occasional flashes of yellows, purples, and reds from the flowers on the hills. I was raised here. Why don't I come back more often? Why didn't I notice the beautiful things around me when they were around me? Why do I want to stay on southern California the rest of my life?

There's so much still to see. You can hear it, smell it, almost taste the growth, the energy in the air. Just writing about it is the equivalent of taking a deep breath. I don't want to let it out. Do I belong up here? HyounJun has to pee. I saw a little beach town off to the side of the road. Parking was readily available, and there was a bathroom right at the entrance to the beach. I waited while HyounJun used the bathroom. I walked along the shoreline, taking pictures (silly little boy, trying to copy Daddy's paintings) of this random beach. I had never been there before. I didn't even know where I was. Somewhere between Santa Barbara and Santa Cruz. That's a wide margin. This was something new.

"I want to show you something new."

A voice that came to me, as calm and reassuring as that fermented salt breeze that filled my lungs. It doesn't scare me anymore to hear voices. Not that voice, anyway. It's new and old at the same time. It belongs to me more than my own voice.

"I am still here."

I worry about my life more than I should. I worry about finding community after Intervarsity. I worry about all my friendships dying slowly and painfully. I also worry about being attacked by sharks at the pool. Pool sharks. Haha. That's a different story, though. I never really thought that I'd been worrying about that voice not following me into the next phase of my life. But I did, and when I heard it again, I knew I shouldn't have. It was the one constant in my life, that thing that never left my side, and now it was closer than it had ever been before, like a hand on my shoulder. No, like a hand inside my own.

Northern California is beautiful, and I'm glad I got to see so much of it, but it's not the place where I fell in love with Jesus. It's not the place where he continues to use me. This shoreline is like a love letter. A beautiful reminder that I'll always keep, but I would trade in a thousand like it for one glimpse of His face. My home is the space between his hand and mine, growing smaller every day. Someday close enough to touch. The earth is yours, and everything in it. It is all that I can do to wait along your shorelines to walk with you, and feel your wind at my ear, your hand inside my hand. Where you will have me wait for you. That will be my home.