I’m not talking about the 2-wheeled version–not the Harley Shop, the road bike, or the crazy recumbent things that I’ve seen around town. I’m talking about the part of Happy Valley that no one told me about.
It’s this town’s dirty little secret, that thing that everybody knows, but no one talks about. It’s the elephant in the room that goes unmentioned.
Here it is: People leave. They don’t plan to stay here. They worm their way into your heart, then they leave.
That may sound harsh, but I don’t mean it to be. I suppose it’s part of the character of our town. We’re living within a stone’s throw of the fabled lawn of Penn State’s Old Main. People come to study or work at the university, and they’re never really meant to stay. It’s a blessing and a curse.
This week the downtown streets will be flooded with folks moving into the dorms and apartments. They’ll leave their cars parked at the most inconvenient places, their 4-ways blinking as if to say, “Don’t mind me, I’m moving in.” Wal-Mart will be un-shoppable. There will be no parking spots downtown. And the crazy pedestrians who think they own the crosswalks–don’t even get me started!
But some of them will become dear to us. They’ll fill our chuches, hang out in our living rooms, open their hearts to us, shape our lives. They’ll stay up late over coffee talking about the things that Jesus is doing in their lives. They’ll laugh and cry and play with our children. They’ll become family to us.
Then, at some point in the next few years, they’ll leave. They’ll get their education and head out of town, shoving all their books and boxes into another car sitting in the road with its blinkers on.
It’s almost laughable the way it plays out. I said goodbye to another crop of young men and women this summer. They are headed out to parts unknown to seek their next adventure. Some have jobs waiting; others are following hopes and dreams. I married some of them, baptized more than a few, and spent countless hours playing and praying and studying and doing life with them. We hug and sniff back tears, and watch them roll down the road.
The only hope for me in this, the only redemption in it is the fact that we are sending them out with an investment. We have poured ourselves into them. We have loved them and tried to show them Jesus, the Kingdom of God. Wherever they land, they will be a blessing to the people around them. They have been touched by the King, and their lives will never be the same.
The Apostle Paul must have felt the same way about the churches that he planted, only he was the one doing the leaving. He wrote these words to the church at Thessalonica:
We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too.
He knew that it was about sharing life, not just communicating God’s Good News. There is no influence outside of relationship. And there is risk in relationship. When the relationship ends, it hurts.
But the good news for us is that we’ll carry part of the people who have touched our lives with us forever. They never really fully leave. And we stay with them in just the same way. I’ll miss my friends dearly. There will be days, I’m sure, when I’ll get down and wish that they’d come back to the Valley of Happiness.
But I won’t stay down. The town is filling up again with a new group of young men and women, ready and willing to be trained and shaped and loved and encouraged and challenged to follow Jesus, to know him, to love him, and to make a mark in the world for the King and Kingdom. Praise God for new opportunities to be an influencer, a friend and a mentor. What’s good for the Kingdom is good for me, even if I don’t like it when they leave.
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