In my experience, Jesus never spoke truer words than these:

“I tell you the truth,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life.”

Though I never set out to leave my family, I have been doing my best to follow God’s leading, first to college in Arkansas, then internship in Georgia, and now various opportunities to serve him in Texas.  In my travels, I’ve found homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, fields and persecutions.

I started singing with some guys in High School, spending weekends staying up all night practicing and playing Goldeneye, and their families took me in.  One day in college I looked around at the people I spent every single day in choir with, and it suddenly occurred to me that I could stop trying to be cool and make friends, because, when I wasn’t looking, these people had become my family.  I remember I started making Facebook friends, and one young lady marked me as “family.”  I can’t tell you how many couches I’ve surfed or floors I’ve called a bed.

There’s one guy who calls me almost every week, and we laugh and rant and hold each other accountable.  There’s a few others that go out of their way regularly to check on me from across the country.  There are families who have let me share their holidays with them.  Then there are small groups from churches, with whom I’ve eaten, watched my favorite TV shows, cried when I’m broken hearted, and played hours of telephone pictionary.

And although I haven’t experienced anything like the persecution of my brothers and sisters in India and elsewhere, it hasn’t been easy.  But I know for a fact that my family, or any of the others I’ve obtained while chasing the dreams God has given me, have been there and will be there when those persecutions arise.  And for that, I’m thankful.

Sometimes it’s ridiculous, like whining about how they would rather go back into slavery only moments after the Israelites had been miraculously rescued from Egypt.  Other times, it makes a lot of sense, like the laments of Job after losing his family, livelihood and health.  Sometimes, the Bible can be unbelievably emo, like in darkest text of the Bible, Psalm 31, where the poet notes “the darkness is my closest friend.”

Jeremiah has two key features that convince me that the Bible is a unique book of supernatural origins.  First is prophecy-that is, negative prophecy against the main characters, the Israelites.  Second is the laments themselves, seemingly unresolved cries to God, mourning for what he has allowed to  happen.  Living in a world where history is written by the winners, these factors show that the Bible is more than just a self-justifying religious text, but a unique collection of conversations on the heartbreaking reality of life.

I am thankful for the lamentations of my faith, because I have my own heartbreaks and complaints.  I have days I just feel emo, and disasters I just can’t reconcile.  Lamentations give me the permission to lay these before God, the peace that he knows I feel, and the humility to wait for him to explain it to me.

I know it’s cliche, but nothing changes your outlook on the world like travel.  The joy I experienced living with malnourished orphans in India makes me think twice when I complain about being hungry.  Being attacked by children in a place where the economic struggles are so intertwined with American politics that they are impossible to separate gives me pause when I consider the impact of our country’s actions abroad.  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think fondly of ancient stone roads in France or lush mountains in East Africa.

Travel didn’t fix anything for me.  I spent much of the trip worrying about all the same things I usually worry about.  I came home and had all the same struggles I always have.  But it did make the world seem a little bigger, and my reality seem a little smaller.  I have an appreciation for things I didn’t know existed and things I have.  I have this crazy sense of attachment to anyone the places I’ve traveled (“you’re from India? I’ve been there!”) and camaraderie with those who have traveled as well.  Most importantly, it’s given me the courage to strike out, try new things, talk to different kinds of people, and take risks that would have been out of the question.

When people say to me “I wish I could travel!” my response is always the same: you can.  Anybody can.  You just have to do it.  And when you do it, you’ll never be the same.

I started listening to podcasts.  It started with some of my favorite preachers, then NPR shows I never could seem to catch on a regular basis, but that wasn’t enough.  That’s when I came upon Audible.  John Maxwell introduced me to business and leadership books, and Malcolm Gladwell gave me a taste for psychology and sociology.  For a few years I had the two book a month subscription, by which I ventured into theology and history.

Having developed a taste for nonfiction, I have found myself reading (even with my eyes) fiction and literary non-fiction most of the time.  While, I still devour an embarrassing number of Star Wars novels, my interests have broadened.

These days I don’t listen to much music.  Each week I listen to about 10-12 podcasts and at least one audiobook a month.  I’m not bragging: if nothing else, it’s testimony to how nerdy I am.  But I am thankful, because audiobooks have given me a chance to do more of something I love: learn.

It seems counter-intuitive, thanking God for things that suck.  Our natural inclination is to blame God.  But imagine if you could stand with Job, shake your fist in the air, and say “Though he may slay me, still will I praise him.”  Or join with Paul, beaten and shipwrecked, and say “God works in all things.”  Or with Jesus, staring betrayal and death in the face and saying “Not my will, but thine.”

I could write a lot more on what I learned during my unemployment.  But I haven’t because it’s not really resolved, and I’m not quite at peace with it all.  But I do know that the story is far from over, I’m already stronger for it all, and even though he drives me crazy sometimes, I really need God and trust his ways.