The Face of a Friend

I saw a picture of an old friend today. Nostalgia set in. You know the feeling?

We were friends a lifetime ago. Back then, I didn't have to stop and think of what I was going to prepare and cook for the next family meal. I didn't need to notice what was lacking in my pantry or fridge, adding those items onto my notes app shopping list. I didn't spend hours every week in a kitchen, filling my cast irons with sweet and savory sautés, nor did I have to daily load and empty a dishwasher. I didn't own a phone with saved recipes on Pinterest and Instagram, nor did I ever think of such a convenience.  

It's been a full twenty years, and I'm not talking about my teens. I'm old enough to say that now. Back then, I thought ahead of conversational English topics I planned to cover in my next class, jotting down notes in a spiral notebook. Morning and evening, I climbed into an old, beat-up white minivan, casually greeting a laid-back driver, undaunted as he darted through a confused mass of traffic and pedestrians, getting me and several others safely to and from school. After class I usually went out with my students for a meal, or perhaps with just one fellow teacher and friend. Dining out was cheap, unmistakably satisfying, and quick. The local version of fast food was fresh veggies and meats tossed in searing oversized woks atop open flame, each dish smothered in an abundance of garlic, soy sauce, a healthy pinch of monosodium glutamate, and twice used peanut oil. My favorite was when I got to hop on the back of a motorcycle taxi or better yet, a friend's scooter to get me back home. There was something about that island breeze, nodding palm trees, the unconfined advantage of being whisked by the city's cluttered atmosphere. 

I longed for these days though. I longed for a husband, a family of my own. I couldn't foresee what my future looked like, of what tangible and intangible rewards I'd gain from trying to live well, trying to make good choices. All I knew was to do the job that was cut out for me, the job I'd said yes to. All I knew was that the God I ultimately served was doing what he does best, whether I could sense it or not. 

"For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 2 Cor. 4:6

It's like when you lie down after a busy day to read a good book, turning on the lamp beside you. It sheds light onto the pages and words your eyes are willing to devour. "...light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 

Back twenty years or more ago, I did my thing. I knew it was special in its own way. The friends who came along made it better. I drank in the flavors of life as they came, same as I do today. Whatever satisfaction and blessing I have received was and is wrapped up in what God did and still does. His glory, the knowledge of it, in the face of Jesus. Can you stop for a moment and wrap your mind around that with me?