I used to sing a song as a 15 year-old all the time. It went like this: "There must be more than this, Spirit of God, we wait for you. There must be more than this, Spirit of God, come breathe within. Fill us anew we pray..." I can remember it. Over and over again, I would sing it. The minor elements in the melody were just as riveting as the words. I would sing that song with unction, with passion, with gut. Matthew 9:36 had met my heart and my lips. For the one of the first times in my life. It was like fire in my bones, fire in my life. I had never experienced anything like this season of my life before nor had ever had Something so huge to live for... ever! And now I was praying it over and over and over again. Like I meant it. Like I had hope. Like I was Lucy, and I had stepped through the wardrobe... and discovered Narnia. This stage of my life reflected an uncovering of mysteries and glories that I never knew were associated with God. I had passion, I had dreams, and I had prayers. Huge ones. And I prayed like there was no stopping me. And no stopping God, for that matter. I was just one wildly excited teenage girl and I was going to be something great for God, and do something great with God. It's been exactly 10 years since that 15 year old year. And as the cursor blinks on this page, my silent words and emotions get caught over a lump in my throat as I swallow. Nostalgia floods my heart and my soul as I hear and remember those chords which still ring so true and so deeply within my would. When you are wildly on fire for God, what happens when things look differently than you think? When dreams die, when things don't go as you plan, and worse than that, as you pray, what then? When you go back to that place where time seems to stand still yet you are the one who has changed. Like Dorothy in Kansas. Or George in It's a Wonderful Life. When your passion for God doesn't go as planned. When your great things for God don't pan out how you envisioned. When your prayers are answered with a wait, and moreover, a no. You've lived long enough to have a few things nailed in the ground and you know it's not a wait. It's a no. It's a Joshua screaming in your face and saying, "moses is dead! He's dead! ok! enough already!" You gotta move on and have enough strength to leave the why's buried with Moses. And leave the what if's with God's permissive and sovereign will. There is something about the first time we experience God. Like Moses on Mount Sinai, the Ten Commandments in hand. You just want to go back there again and again and again and again. And recreate the fire and the wind and the voice and the presence and the sounds and the feelings. and the mountaintop experience. I do believe that God gives us intentionally profound first places to experience Him so that we will go back and remember and remember and remember. The nostalgia of that passion will create history, committment, and fire. But at some point, we gotta realize that he led David into the pastures for 11 years before he became king. David cleaned up sheep pie versions of cow pie and tried to stay ahead of a booty load of pride-filled older brothers. God led Paul into the tent making business for 4 years before he became the apostle of all times. Talk about a desert. But he would certainly need it. Alot of hard things came his way soonafter. It's kinda sad, really, thinking about what followed even the desert times. As if that wasn't bad enough! Hiding in caves for David, and persecution for Paul. Same goes for the disciples. What is this religion anyway? Sounds like torture! "Come one, come all--- sign up for a lifetime of events that just get increasingly harder! it's worth it!" And then you realize that at the end of their lives, they received their Portion in full--- Himself. As they exchanged the comforts of the present, the lengthened the value of their life by building Something that lasts far into the next Kingdom. In theory, we all know it's the right choice and well worth it, but how do we move our head to our hearts? I wonder, then, if those men ever missed those first mountaintop moments involving their first callings and experiences with God. Paul on the road to Damascus. David getting anointed by Samuel. Killing the giant with a stone. Putting fishing nets down and following a man who turns water into wine and getting to spread the loaves that he multiplies. This life, it's not easy. There is a moment where you realize you're too far in to go back on it, but you're not too far away to miss the early days. You can't stay long, but it doesn't hurt to soak in the feeling just for a moment, of when you first fell in love. Fell in love with the passion, the bigness, Him. It's where the history's at. Just like a wedding day. Just like the birth of a child. There is a time and a place to remember. And the bittersweet pang is all good and all hard. Remembering and accepting and relishing why it was that we first fell in love. When all the butterflies go away and all the glow is worn down to a faint ember. We can still settle deep into the reality that we have a love worth growing, in the seasons of life, when summer turns to fall and fall to winter and winter to spring. We will be seasoned with Him. And hopefully, when the seasons are coming to a close, with all the rest, hopefully we will be found with them who gave Him their life, their commitment, their love even when the whys turned to silence and the questions turned to trust. And He, too, will say to us, "Blessed are they who are not offended by Me." May we be found in the Hebrews hall of fame where even those who lived by faith died without seeing the promise. But the Portion was worth it.