I LOVE THE WORLD

When I was a boy, I was told that the world was evil, that the things of the world were ungodly, and that loving the world was sinful. I never really could reconcile these things with my deep fascination with the world. I used to love watching National Geographic documentaries about faraway lands and exotic peoples—the strange rituals and traditions of indigenous tribes, the customs and beliefs of diverse races. I remember being able to sit for hours reading travel guides about Finland, South Africa, and Japan; and putting together puzzles with pictures of pastoral Irish country sides or South American harbors.

Eventually, I came to “put such childish things away”. I knew that the way of the world would lead me to hell; and that, per The Great Commission, the onus rested upon me to lead the world to jesus. I accepted my position as an American and a christian. I accepted the idea that I would not be able to participate in the things of the world because I was meant to be “in the world, but not of the world”. I was called out, separated… the anointed of god. I had to place my fascination with all things worldly upon the altar of god and sacrifice it.

For many years, I thought nothing of the world, cared nothing for the world, sought only to distance myself from everything but my immediate environment in order to draw closer to god and not be lead astray. I rarely travelled; never watched travelling programs, or read anything about foreign countries.

I missed out on so much…

Lately, I’ve come to realize something:

I LOVE THE WORLD.

I love the sights and sounds, even the smells of the world. I love the layers and textures of the food, from kofta kebabs and shawarma to smoked salmon in hollandaise sauce. I love the drinks of the world—the creamy burn of Latvian Balsam, the acerbic punch of Polish Bison Grass Vodka, the subtle flora of Japanese Sake. I love the spices: cumin, turmeric, allspice.

I love the way the sun reaches through the trees on a soft Southern morning, the feel of sweet summer rain on my face, the fiery leaves of autumn. I love the sounds of early morning—delivery trucks, the clatter of coffee mugs, quiet conversations… and the smell of freshly baked pastries, biscuits, and bacon. And I love the quiet reflections of evening when my son quietly practices his violin, against a backdrop of clinking dishes in the kitchen.

I love to see squirrels scurry about through the trees, sheep grazing in a pasture, kittens frolicking around the house.

I love airports, because they remind me of all the places in this world that I know I’ll never get to see. I love sitting at the departure gate, watching other planes taxiing out to the runway and wondering about all the passengers on those planes. “Where are they going?” “Who will they meet?” “What sort of amazing food will they have when they get there?” I love browsing through the Duty-Free, looking at all the different liqueurs and colognes. I don’t even smoke anymore, but I still wonder when I find some new brand of cigarette, what it would taste like. I love the crowds of the airport, the scurry and scamper, passports with brand new visas, the rush to get through security and customs.

I love the rickety trams of the Soviet era as they clickety-clack through Odessa streets; and I love the sleek modern trams of Munich. I love the meat market in Riga and the roosters they put on the spires of their churches instead of crosses. I love the way old Polish women set up grills on the sides of the street and smoke cheese which they sell for next to nothing. I love the popping of my ears when the train plunges into a tunnel or when the plane takes off.

I’ve been fortunate to have stood on the Knockagh and seen the sun set over Belfast Lough. I’ve enjoyed an evening stroll through the Planty in Krakow, the sound of practicing musicians filling the air. I’ve experienced the pleasure of the overnight train from Odessa to Kiev with great company and freely flowing vodka. I’ve been cursed out in countless languages, and shown appreciation in countless more.
But the greatest memory I have so far, is simply a modest meal of shashlik with my wife’s family at their summer home near the sea.

This world is a beautiful place; and it’s the only world I’ll ever live in. There are extra-ordinary places, inspiring people, fascinating customs, incredible food, and a wealth of breath-taking experiences, and they are all just outside the front door. This is MY world and I plan to squeeze every possible ounce of experience this world has to offer before I leave it.

I LOVE THE WORLD.