The Wading Pool

I type this from my “office” of the past two years, a.k.a. Classroom 213.  It currently bears little resemblance to what it was for the past 24 months.  The desks and chairs are all neatly stacked against the wall, not set up for students.  The walls are bare of all paraphernalia.  The bookcase is empty.  In a few hours, so too will be the desk I now sit at.  No voices of 6th graders filling the room with their laughter and banter.

When I walk out of the room for the last time, it will be truly be one of those “bittersweet” moments of life.  I’m leaving behind a job that was both incredibly draining, yet incredibly rewarding.  Never have I worked as hard as the past two years, but never have I been given such an opportunity to share the Gospel and pour into people, either.  I’ve been told that I touched many lives.  Well, truly, they touched me.  If somehow, by the grace of God, I did the same, He gets all the praise.

As I shut the door to room 213 for the last time today, it’s with a certain sadness, to be sure.  It’s not unlike the feeling you experience when you move from one city to another, packing up all you own and that’s important to you in order to start new somewhere else.  Yes, it’s sad.  But it’s also incredibly exciting and joyful.  When I close this door today, I’m walking through another door that God has opened for me.  He brought me here, and He’s moving me to another place.

As I seek to follow Jesus, part of that is being willing to step out from the comfortable into the “unknown!”  Like Abraham leaving Ur for the Land of Promise (which he’d never seen), we too must step out as the Lord leads.  I think of the words of Paul to the Philippians:  “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”  As I seek to be faithful to the call He has on my life, I’m leaving my own “Ur” in order to follow Him.  Like Abe, I don’t have all the information…just the call to “go.”

So I go.

So long Sweet Room 213.  You gave me 24 months I’ll never forget.