Cars pass by sending mist up into the night. Slowly, slowly, the moon creeps up over the mountain’s edge, casting pale light onto the peaceful valley, painting soft texture into shadows in the back parking lot of Jerry’s Place. My perch, about 15 feet up from the ground, is a perfect alcove of serenity in the midst of a pretty chaotic existence down below.
In the midst of all this jubilation, I’m reminded of a verse my father has told me many, many times: “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”
El Rancho Del Rey is a bright light that shines through the dust. Just off the highway in the middle of a growing neighborhood on the outskirts of the city of Monterrey, the white walls provide a safe haven from dangers that lurk outside. About fifteen boys stay in the residence each school year. They’re given a safe place to run around and be kids; three square meals a day and an opportunity to pursue education. Since its start in the 1950s, the home has given thousands of boys an opportunity for success.
I never had a choice; thrust into the cold light of a dawning earth thrown back into caveman days. No one cared about anyone but themselves. My first breath wasn’t freedom, that’s for damn sure; and when the inky blackness slid away from newborn eyes, all I saw was pain. I didn’t choose this.
Lately, I’ve been feeling a little bit empty – and for a while I didn’t know why: I mean, I have everything and more than I could ever ask for.
And then it dawned on me: I’ve been feeling like David did when he penned “as a deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs after You, God”; I’ve been longing for more of God and less of me – I’ve been trying to fill a spiritual void with material things that can never replace Him.
I write along with A. W. Tozer, who, in his book The Pursuit of God, wrote: “To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul’s paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too-easily-satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart.”
“I struggle with balance. No, I don’t mean the keeping-myself-upright kind of balance (although I will be the first to admit that I can be a bit clumsy sometimes), I mean in a less literal sort of way – I mean trying to juggle spiritual life, school, relationships, actual work, family, freelance work, and fitness.”
Learning to balance responsibilities, relationships & fitness is difficult: humility is the key to a happy and a successful walk over the tightrope.