Gozark!

When I was just a freshman in high school, I decided I wanted to go to Ozark Christian College when I graduated. For the next four years, I knew that would be where I would end up. I never even applied to any other college. I didn't visit other campuses. I was Ozark all the way. In fact, by the time I was a sophomore, I was ready to be done with high school. There were good things about high school, but I was anxious to move on to something else. Ozark was my Promised Land, and I impatiently weathered my years in the desert of the high school hallways. At long last, in August 2006, I drove my Buick onto campus, parked it in front of Williamson Hall, and started carrying my stuff to my dorm room. I wore my David Crowder t-shirt that day, and we had chicken parmesan for lunch in the cafeteria. There are some days that you just don't forget easily.

Ozark has been my home for the last five years. But a week from now, I will be graduating and will be leaving. As cliche as it sounds, it had not yet sunk in that graduation is finally here, possibly because I still have quite a bit of reading and studying to do for my Western Civ text for Tuesday. When I stop and actually think about it all though, it is an odd feeling to realize that I'm leaving this place. This hill means a lot to me. The people here are maybe the greatest community I've been a part of. I've grown and matured a lot here (but have also gotten less mature in some other ways, so it probably cancels out). In our culture today, we don't often think about the important of "place," but places really do mean something, and Ozark is a place that is especially significant for me.

As I walk around campus, and even go elsewhere in Joplin, I see specific places that mean something to me. I can go to the cafeteria and see where I've talked and laughed and eaten countless cheeseburgers. I can see classroom in the library where I began to realize that I love to preach. I can see spots on campus where I've had to have some really difficult conversations. I can see the round tables in the student center where I played cards for hours--where friendships were forged and I laughed more than I possibly have anywhere else. I can see the ping-pong table where I would play until I got dizzy. Right now, I'm sitting at the desk I've been sitting at for five years, writing papers and blog posts and facestalking. I can see my bed where I've laid staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the happenings of my life. I can see the chair on the other side of the room, where Charlie, then Ryan, and now Nick have sat, talking with me about all sorts of things. I can see the spot on the gym floor where I injured my knee and tumbled to the hardwood, and I can see another spot where I closed my eyes and heaved up a buzzer-beater in our intramural game. I could go to the mall's food court and see the place where I slept on the floor so I could get free Chick-fil-A for a year. I can drive out to the church at Commerce, where for the last year I have been taught wisdom and ministry, as well as being constantly told how my body will fall apart when I'm old. I can see the projector in its spot on my counter, which we have used to watch seasons of Smallville, Arrested Development, Freaks and Geeks, The Office, and who-knows how many movies.

But now, it's time to leave all of that. In times like this, I tend to become rather reflective and sentimental. I love this place. But it's a place where I can't stay. I think that a lot of the time, God uses a certain place to prepare us so that he can send us to another place. It's a pretty cruel trick, really. When we become attached to a place, that's when we're often sent out from it. Thankfully, though, we serve a God who transcends places. It's not as though I need to be at Ozark for God to be with me. He was with Joseph in Egypt, David in Jerusalem, Jonah in the fish, Daniel in Babylon, Paul in Rome, and John on Patmos. While places are important, God is bigger than all of that, and everything really boils down to him anyway.

I'm ready to leave Ozark. Not especially happy about it. But ready. I'll miss this place deeply, and I'll miss the people here even more. But I believe that God has used Ozark to do what he's wanted it to do in my life, and now he has something else for me to move on to. I'm excited to start seminary in Cincinnati in the fall, and I'm excited to continue down whatever path it is that God has set before me. But part of me will always be left at Ozark (not that I'm going to dismember myself before graduation and leave bury a piece next to the time capsule by the library).

What are some places that mean a lot to you?