After 18 years in the same house, Missy and I are moving across town. Now that both of our boys have left home, we’ve decided to downsize.
As we prepare for the move, we’ve unpacked and repacked two decades of boxes filled with remarkable memories. With each box, it’s hard not to hear all the voices echoing throughout our lives.
“Daddy, it’s a sunny day. Don’t you want to play with me outside?”
“I’ve decided my life needs a new cast of characters, so I’ve joined a writing and theater class.”
Unpacking and repacking two decades of boxes fills my heart and soul with joy while sending a tear or two (or three or four) rolling down my cheeks.
However, I found one moment quite interesting during the packing process. While the family memories brought smiles and tears, the pages of my library filled my mind with the words of heroes and saints.
“Every great moment begins in the hearts of a few,” Walter Rauschenbusch wrote.
“I don’t want to be immortal if it mean living forever, cause then everybody else just die and get old in front of you… But maybe I’ll come back as some HeLa cells like my mother; that way, we can do good together in the world,” Deborah Lacks said.
Howard Thurman taught me: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
“I cannot live without books,” quipped Thomas Jefferson.
Nadia Bolz-Weber never disappointed: “I need a God who is bigger and more nimble and mysterious than what I could understand and contrive. Otherwise, it can feel like I am worshipping nothing more than my own ability to understand the divine.”
The writing of James Cone challenged my mind and heart: “The cross can heal and hurt; it can be empowering and liberating but also enslaving and oppressive. There is no one way in which the cross can be interpreted. I offer my reflections because I believe that the cross placed alongside the lynching tree can help us to see Jesus in America in a new light, and thereby empower people who claim to follow him to take a stand against white supremacy and every kind of injustice.”
And there were so many others.
As I flipped through the books, listening to the voices of prophets, leaders and world changers before gently placing them into their cardboard tombs, I heard another voice bouncing through the air. It was Jesus: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).
Remembering fond memories, listening to the voices of great people and recalling Jesus’s words brought a question to mind: “What voices do we let guide us today?” Ciphering through the commotion in a world filled with noisy rhetoric is hard.
Every day, we wake to another news story with talking heads attempting to convince us what to think about the world’s events. We try to find solace at church to discover a variety of voices offering their interpretations and insights.
We consider asking family, but…well…families are a mixed bag, too. So, we return to Jesus.
When I remember the voices echoing through my home of 18 years, I hear voices similar to Jesus.
They speak of inclusion.
Freedom.
Equality.
Justice.
But the most vital voices speak of love—a powerful love that changes everything it touches.
As we attempt to wade through the confusing noise of this world, listen for the voices of love leading to justice. Those voices will ensure a path forward and give wisdom about the most important things in life.
Love God.
Love your neighbor.
Love yourself.
My cardboard boxes filled with books have now been securely tucked inside a storage unit on the other side of town. Along with them are the memories of living in a home for 18 years. The wisdom and joy they both gave me now reside within my heart.
Transitions can be difficult, but good memories and books can be balm for the soul.
