Welcome back, y’all. My apologies for the summer hiatus; I was humbled by the number of you who raised concerns. Summer in Florida was wonderful. Even on the final day of September Tallahassee’s heat flirted with 90 degrees. I’ll miss that. I’ll miss it like Auburn football misses Cam Newton…but we’d best not go there.
Three weeks ago my industrial-weight thermal underwear and I flew to London.
This was the second consecutive September that I ended with a flight to London, moving solo to a foreign continent, stupefied and slack-jawed that one of my hair brained (though surely divinely inspired) schemes had come to fruition. Not-so-secretly, I couldn’t help but hope that there wouldn’t be a third.
A gypsy soul, aside from one that avoids the love of others, is nothing to mourn. Each of us was born for leaving. Unlike the desperado character we are both created for and called to community, but I do believe we were created to have nomadic souls. We are not to cling to what is around us. Not to possessions, not to geography, and not to the world’s esteem.
I sometimes live as though I was born for staying; particularly in my thoughts on this move. In explicit defiance of Christ, I build up treasures where moth and rust destroy. I question markedly divine blessings when they diverge too far from the seemingly idyllic Southern lives of my college friends. The hymn “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus,” at times, has the appeal of a dirge; something carried out in mourning. What a glaring lack of perspective.
P.S.
Yesterday 35 alleged sexual predators were arrested in and around Tallahassee in what's considered to be the most successful sex sting ever accomplished in our region, Operation Tallyop. Among the men were a local minister, an FSU assistant professor, an attorney, a city employee, and plenty other unassuming citizens. This was the work of the North Florida Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force, comprised of FDLE, TPD, Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, the U.S. Marshal Service, and the sheriff's offices of Leon, St. Johns and Alachua counties. I am so thankful for their efforts.
Many of the men were apprehended whilst under the impression that they had arranged to pay for sex with a 14-year old. (Turned out to be a big, old officer anxiously awaiting their arrival.) Please pray for our community, for the accused, and for the countless others affected by their actions.
Three weeks ago my industrial-weight thermal underwear and I flew to London.
Some accused me of overpacking. I found their claims ungrounded.
This was the second consecutive September that I ended with a flight to London, moving solo to a foreign continent, stupefied and slack-jawed that one of my hair brained (though surely divinely inspired) schemes had come to fruition. Not-so-secretly, I couldn’t help but hope that there wouldn’t be a third.
On my final morning driving through Tallahassee I heard Zac Brown Band’s “Colder Weather" on the radio. The song concerns a desperado figure who says of himself, “…got a gypsy soul to blame, and I was born for leavin’.” That line rang in my ears while I packed. The song is sad— at least from the vantage of the figure’s love interest— but more than saddened, I wound up convicted.
A gypsy soul, aside from one that avoids the love of others, is nothing to mourn. Each of us was born for leaving. Unlike the desperado character we are both created for and called to community, but I do believe we were created to have nomadic souls. We are not to cling to what is around us. Not to possessions, not to geography, and not to the world’s esteem.
I sometimes live as though I was born for staying; particularly in my thoughts on this move. In explicit defiance of Christ, I build up treasures where moth and rust destroy. I question markedly divine blessings when they diverge too far from the seemingly idyllic Southern lives of my college friends. The hymn “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus,” at times, has the appeal of a dirge; something carried out in mourning. What a glaring lack of perspective.
As my parents and I ate in a local restaurant just before my flight, a family friend came and spoke. She looked at me and said, “Remember, God is in Oxford.” I needed to hear that.
He has gone before me. He has met me here. And he will continue to do so. This turned out to be the easiest move I've ever made. Classes are challenging but immensely engaging, the pace of life is just about perfect, the weather has been freakishly temperate, the church I'm attending is fantastic,
my classmates and I get along famously,
my college and its accommodations are swell,
I'm rowing with the college club, and it's tremendous fun.
This is what the River Thames looks like by the time we finish morning rowing.
I've heard that there are three facets of Oxford life— academics, athletics, and social— and that any given person can only manage two. We'll see about that. More soon on the first few weeks.
P.S.
Yesterday 35 alleged sexual predators were arrested in and around Tallahassee in what's considered to be the most successful sex sting ever accomplished in our region, Operation Tallyop. Among the men were a local minister, an FSU assistant professor, an attorney, a city employee, and plenty other unassuming citizens. This was the work of the North Florida Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force, comprised of FDLE, TPD, Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, the U.S. Marshal Service, and the sheriff's offices of Leon, St. Johns and Alachua counties. I am so thankful for their efforts.
Many of the men were apprehended whilst under the impression that they had arranged to pay for sex with a 14-year old. (Turned out to be a big, old officer anxiously awaiting their arrival.) Please pray for our community, for the accused, and for the countless others affected by their actions.
