lessons from philly: home

Upon hearing that our old family group leader Ahrim was to be in Philly from Saturday until Tuesday, my summer roommate (Lily) and I decided to make a "surprise" trip this weekend. I was moreover pushed by the fact that my dear friend Christine's birthday is coming up on Tuesday, and so I thought it would be a doubly-good surprise.

As we took off from 10th & H Streets in Washington, DC, (as cheesy as this sounds), I could just imagine how surprised and/or happy they might be when we arrived out of the blue. It just made me so excited to be going, and the two-and-a-half hour trip seemed a lot longer than it should have (considering that we made a four-and-a-half hour trip back to DC today).

As the familiar Philadelphia skyline shot into view and the familiar red and blue landmark signs starting popping up, I could feel the anticipation growing and growing. And when we stepped off the bus onto a noticeably dirtier-than-DC 30th Street, I could hardly contain my joy at being back in this city that I call home 28 weeks out of a year (last year, it was even more because I stayed during the summer).

And as we approached campus, passing by the 34th Street Starbucks, the Penn Bookstore on 36th, the bridge on 38th, Philly Diner on 39th, and turned on 39th to head towards Chestnut Hall, where Christine and Liz live this summer, my mind was going crazy because I couldn't believe I was back, just like that, with a short bus ride.

The trip back to Philadelphia this weekend was a timely one. I can say with full firmness that God planned for this weekend to come when it did, for Ahrim to come when she did, for our plans to unfold like this when they did.

Sure, eating and talking and painting nails and laughing and singing along with a guitar were all great, and I am so jealous of all the sisters that are staying there this summer (I mean, where were y'all last summer when the campus was like 85% male?), but the thing that hit me the hardest during the brief 24 hours we were there was how much our church, GCC, means to me.

It's like I got numb to it over the past year, taking for granted how passionate and enveloping it is. See, it took me a month of wandering around from church to church and several months of sporadic, sputtering QT-ing for me to reach a state of complacency, where I knew God was good and I was thankful for and joyful over all His blessings...but I just wasn't on fire. I just wasn't in love with Him quite the same way as last year. I questioned everyday what my faith meant to me, how it was appearing in my life, and whether I carried the fragrance of life or the smell of death. I wondered confusedly, sometimes bitterly, why being Christian meant something to me at all, why this community at GCC had essentially taken over my social and emotional life in these past two years.

But being in that congregation this morning, having my eardrums blasted out by the praise team and seeing friendly faces all around...I have to admit, I was such a sap. I teared up all throughout the first three songs, and unable to stand it anymore, I had to excuse myself during the announcements to go bawl in the bathroom for about three minutes. I was overwhelmed by the presence of the Holy Spirit for the first time in a month or two. Yes, the Holy Spirit resides within you wherever you go, supposedly, but being of a ubiquitous nature, it's also everywhere you are not. And Philadelphia, GCC, is where I hadn't been for a month. And coming back, feeling that the room was heavy with His love and His Spirit, I knew that this was where I felt the most spiritually at home.

It was crazy, my mind and my heart were going absolutely insane as every lyric of every song we sang actually meant something to me, how the sermon related exactly to what I needed to hear, how every interaction I had with someone was so joyful...

God made so clear to me more convictions and more realizations and more closure in the span of these 24 hours than He has in the past 24 days. I feel this fuzz, this lull that has been clouding my judgment has been lifted, and I'm finally ready to return back to Him and be filled with His holiness and His unfailing, fully sufficient love. Of course, it'll be a struggle, as it always is, but I feel more confident than ever before.

His plans are so perfect.

Without the realization of having done so, I had left my whole heart back in Philadelphia, with GCC, my home. Now I've brought it back with me to DC this time, to shape it with the upcoming lessons that I will gain this summer, instead of being an empty shell for the next eight weeks.

But even so, I'd say a small sliver still remains there, ready to make that connection if Lily and I ever do decide to return in another month, or when I go back foreal in September.

That's the thing about home - you always end up leaving a small sliver behind so your heart remembers what it feels like to love that place when you return.

Praise God for His perfect plans and His perfect love.