The Gift of a Surprise.
Everytime I go to UCLA, I am flooded with memories of where my life was truly transformed. I am captivated my the students, the sights, the hills, Bruin Walk, constant contruction work, dorm food, my daily running trails, Drake Stadium, Ackerman, and Powell library. Every inch of that campus is loaded with eternity. I remember what I said when I was at a certain location. I remember the people I was with. I remember what I was wearing. I remember everything. I went to college thinking one thing, and came out thinking the opposite in some regards.
At age 17, I predicted I would graduate early and become a lawyer. I thought while at law school, I could intern at music labels and use music as a beautiful hobby. But I was surprised.
I thought I would be anti-social and just breeze through my social life - not making any real friends, not talking to many people, and not getting too involved with things on campus. But I was surprised.
I thought my spiritual life would stay relatively the same as it was in high school. But I was surprised.
I thought I would view the world more maturely of course, but not by that much - afterall, how could I be more mature than I already was? (lol) - But I was surprised.
I realize that UCLA meant the world to me, because I was surprised. I was taken for a loop - in every sense of the word. My world was flipped upside down, and then handed to me to wrestle with. It was an adventure that forced me to become the person I am today.
When was the last time you were truly surprised? When was the last time your world got shaken and your conventional boxes got broken? I would suggest that the world wants to surprise the living daylights out of you. I would argue that your fullest life should be marked by earth-shattering (at least in your little earth) discoveries and shifts in the way you think. If the world is designed to make us grow, then why do we remain surprise-less? Why aren't we constantly astounded by the interaction of our Creator with us? Normal people quote "seasons." Normal people medicate their lack of growth by pointing fingers to a "dry season." Or a season where you are supposed to just coast with no surprises. I don't buy it. Each season is unique with its surprises, whether high intensity or low - there are surprises - there are things that make you question, wrestle, ponder, and grow.
We are a culture that thrives off of "glory days." I don't believe in glory days. I believe the present and the future are always better than the past. There is nothing glorious about the past. The thing of glory is our future glory. The thing of hope is what is to come. You cannot have a hopeful past. By definition, hope is something that is in the present, or towards something that is in front of us. A past full of hope does not exist - it was done.
My favorite people are those above 75, who act like they have 75 more years to come. They don't live in the past. They appreciate the past, but push towards what the next thing is. They want to be better vessels than in the first part of their life. They deem the first 75 as practice - the warm-up - the rehearsal. The curtains start to only come up at age 75.
Here's to the new glory days. Today. Tomorrow. And the day after. Peace, and much love to you - Jeevo.