Play this while you read.

A lot of people warned me that seminary would be less about learning than I would expect or would maybe even want.

Expect lots of reading, expect messiness, expect needy people, expect to be broken. I knew that going in. I promise I did.

I crumble at Your kiss and grace
I’m a weakling in the dust
Teach me how to cling to You
With all my life and all my love

I think over the years, I’ve managed to forget what it means to be on a journey. I’ve always been well aware that the life of following Christ is a work in progress, something where I’m always stretching and growing. But it’s different here. The journey is very different. There are a lot of rocks in my road, sometimes boulders I can’t move. The bag I’m carrying is heavy and burdensome.

Father come to me, hold me up ’cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can’t reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven’s own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing

And on the road to beautiful
My seasons always change
But my life is spent on loving You
To know You in Your power and pain

I cannot think of living my life in any other way that would be as lovely, as alluring, as ravishing. Nor can I image a life more difficult, offensive, and challenging. A life spent on loving Jesus is a beautiful dichotomy. I am living in the already/not yet part of my life – where I am sinner already forgiven and I am not yet restored to perfection in glory.

Father come to me, hold me up ’cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can’t reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven’s own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing

This road I’m on is very, very messy. It’s full of the trash in my heart that God has to pick up for me, it’s full of pot holes that need to be filled. Sometimes I am knee-deep in snow and other times I find myself simply trying not to get stuck in the mud. The road itself is a disaster. But it is, above all else, a pilgrimage. (pĭl’grə-mĭj)n.

1. A journey to a sacred place or shrine.
2. A long journey or search, especially one of exalted purpose or moral significance.

You’re my portion in this life
You’re my strength now in my fight
And to You I pledge my heart
In the pain and in the dark I’ll love You
I’ll love You, I’ll love You

I’ll love You…

What is the significance of the pilgrimage I am on? The end result… the end result of finding my way to heaven’s own bright King. I just wish that the road was less messy. A lot less messy.

Father come to me, hold me up ’cause I can barely stand
My strength is gone and my breath is short, I can’t reach out my hands
But my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven’s own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing

And my heart is set on a pilgrimage to heaven’s own bright King
So in faltering or victory I will always sing

I love You
I love You
I love You

My own hope lies in the cross. The beautiful and messy cross, where my sins were laid bare and were wiped away by this bright King. Any pilgrimage I take to him will be worth it.