As the mountains surround Jerusalem

This past Saturday was quite an adventure. I had originally planned on going with a cool coworker of mine (and fellow Michigander), Shawn, to the National Folk Festival here in Richmond. But instead I took up an offer to go hiking at White Oak Canyon in the Shenandoah National Park in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

After we all met up, we finally set out for the supposed six-mile hike at 3:30 P.M., giving us plenty of time to finish the Class 4 trail before 7:00 sunset. However, at about 6:00 we realized that we had missed a turnoff we were supposed to have taken--and thereby lengthened out trek to some twelve miles! Knowing that there was absolutely no way to make it back before dark, we stopped to watch the sunset over Hawksbill Mountain, the highest point in the SNP. As I looked over the rolling, timeworn mountains I recalled God's promised protection as potential danger and uncertainty loomed for us: "As the moutains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people, from this time forth and forevermore" (Psalm 125:2).

I love the fall!

We made it through the rest of the night, hiking mostly downhill for the next few hours. The steep, rocky, sidehill path was difficult to navigate in the dark with only a handful of flashlights and headlamps. But at 9:40, some three hours after sunset, we arrived safe and sound back at the trailhead.

My friend Josh, with Hawksbill Moutain over my right shoulder

Both near and far

Two blog posts in one day: that's what happens when I have a Sunday free and lots on my mind.

Yesterday was the first unofficial day of fall here in the Commonwealth. When I left to go running in the morning, the air had a new kind of coolness that I hadn't felt in a long time. (In fact, all I felt was stifling heat and humidity for weeks on end.) Underneath gray skies, as water droplets left from the overnight rain dripped onto me, I was actually a bit chilly for a few minutes. There's hope for this state yet.

You see, I love the fall season. It's hands-down the best. Sure, summer has baseball, long days, and green fields rich in corn and sugar beets--at least in Michigan. But fall has the cool, crisp air that invigorates my spirit. Pumpkins. Wheat fields gold for the harvest. The brilliant radiance of leaves losing their chlorophyll. The World Series. College football. Fall's got it all--and it's right on time.

But though I may be near to the best time of the year, I feel farther than ever from Istanbul, and I miss it a lot. In the words of my friend Leanne, "I miss Turkey so much my soul hurts!" Over the past week or two I have been constantly flipping through my photos from that now-distant land, listening to Turkish music, translating recipes and the Gospel of Mark into English, and adding Turkish touches to my meals (chickpeas, yogurt, olives).

Galata Tower and the Golden Horn at dusk

My crushing longing to be back there might simply be because, in two years' time there, life became familiar, doable. Sure, every day brought new excitements and challenges. But trying to stay afloat in this new world of high school teaching is wearisome. I feel right now like all I want to do is get back over there and find a job, any kind of job, and share the truth of Jesus with the multitudes who don't know him. I looked at my world-map shower curtain last night and thought to myself--or actually I probably said aloud to myself--"Just find a way to get me back, and I'll go! Now!"

But there's a lot of water that needs to pass under my proverbial bridge before that happens. I've only taught two weeks. Even a full school year is hardly enough time to evaluate my enjoyment of and confidence in performing such a job. I need a few years. Plus, my job will allow me to save up a little for any future calling in life, whether that be seminary and some sort of pastoral/teaching ministry or a graduate degree in environmental biology.

Rumeli Hisar and the Bosphorus

It's time to be patient and trust God for what's comes my way today, knowing that he will provide for me and direct my steps (Proverbs 3:5-6).

And . . .

. . . I'm off to a new life in Richmond.