Finding new life in Baghdad by the Bay

Insecure

I really love living in Seattle, but I have to confess, this place really brings out my deeply-rooted insecurities. Everyone here seems to be extreme something, and by comparison my life feels overwhelmingly... average. One of my co-workers is a pretty good friend who shares my love for the outdoors, except his is a *slightly* different flavor. Like, oh, doing a triathalon (Ironman no less) on Saturday, and then just for fun summiting Mt. Rainier on Sunday. Me? If I climb that mountain once it will be a major life accomplishment. I look in the mirror and see a 36-year-old man with an injured right shoulder and injured left knee who once excelled at running and now is a master of eating. A lot. Trips to REI seem to be the worst - a modern-day shrine to the outdoors that reminds me with every visit just how much cooler everyone is than me. Funny I'm going there now to get some tech wash; just call me a glutton for punishment. Insecurity is an interesting issue to confront as a follower of Christ. Where is my heart, and what does it reveal about who I truly love? For a large chunk of life, my biggest dream was being someone not just special, but worshiped and adored. As I've grown in the Lord, those desires have gradually been replaced by the goal of loving God and loving others. Still, I'd be lying if I said the old Ryan didn't rear his head every now and then. I shared this with my roommate; with a gentle chuckle he quoted Paul in Romans 7. The greatest missionary in the history of Christianity apparently had the same problem. I'm currently trying to memorize Colossians chapter 3. In verse 1 Paul writes, "If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God." My flesh tries to remind me of where I used to be, but my heart is pointed towards Christ. Cliche as it may sound, it really is true - Christ is my security.

A 10 Year Reflection

Memory is a strange thing.  Some things I remember clearly; other events seem lost in a foggy haze.  My friends marvel at my ability to remember seemingly random, insignificant details of moments long gone.  

I remember what I was doing exactly 10 years ago today.  It was the kickoff to the Memorial Day weekend, and I had left my depressing life in Sacramento for several days of partying in San Francisco with my friends.  A huge group of us left around 11pm or so for 177 Townsend, home of Universe, the biggest gay nightclub in the city.  One of my friends wore clear vinyl pants, and I was decked out in glitter and glowsticks.  

That night would be my third time using the drug Ecstasy, and back in those days every pill was a guaranteed journey to a place filled with love, happiness, and community.  Back in Sacramento it felt like my life was falling apart - with a fractured relationship and job I hated - but at least in San Francisco I could experience a few hours where everything felt right.

For about six months I thought I'd found paradise; a group of friends who really seemed to care for me, and a man whose love was genuine.  The drug Ecstasy was icing on the cake, taking away my insecurities and creating for a moment a world where all my deepest needs and desires were fulfilled.

Of course my utopia didn't last, and neither did the drugs.  People started spinning out of control, relationships fractured, and I would literally spend nearly four years desperately trying to relive six months in 1999.  Looking back I can't help but feel a pang of sadness, because that desire - to somehow go back to that utopia before the dawn of the new millenium - was all-consuming, and would lead to some desperate and dark places.  

In November of 2003, in the bowels of a dark nightclub in Vancouver, I thought I'd managed to get there again.  Then, on the long ride home later the next day, realized the price I'd paid was one I could no longer afford.  I didn't want 1999 anymore; I wanted a new life.

Many of the same needs and desires that drove me to so fully embrace those little pills 10 years ago are still with me, but they have a much different outlet.  More importantly, my life is now focused on obtaining a goal far greater than myself, instead of desperately trying to recreate the past.  Hopefully I'm learning to love better along the way, and in the end look a little bit more like Jesus.

Birthday Reflections

This past Saturday was my 36th birthday.  I've been joking to my friends that I'm now officially on the downhill slide to 40.  The actual day was quite nice - I had breakfast with a friend (homemade buttermilk pancakes with Trader Joe's blueberry syrup - mmmm...), did some shopping (Hello Target and REI), and had a few friends over for dinner and games.  I made split pea soup with deer bologna courtesy of my dead-eye hunter dad, followed by blueberry pie from scratch.  Making sure we weren't missing any calories, my friend Rich brought over a bunch of deluxe cupcakes from a bakery in Kent.  I lit the only candle I could find and enjoyed the traditional birthday seranade.  The following day I drove out to Eastern Washington to hike the Ancient Lakes trail.  I couldn't have asked for more.

Well, to be honest, in my heart I probably was asking for more.  I love running - no big surprise there.  Strange as it seems, lacing up my Asics and running along Lake Washington for an hour or so is my way to relax and unwind, think about life, and spend time with God.  For the last week and a half, I haven't been able to that, sidelined by some serious pain in my left knee.

It all started about a month ago, when I went up to Stevens Pass with a friend for what I thought would be a stellar day of snowboarding.  Forecasters had predicted over a foot of new snow, but the resort was further north and only got about 5", and that was sitting on top of rock-hard crust.  The bumps were big, and on my second run I pulled something in the area of my left knee.  It didn't really hurt, but I could immediately tell I had lost a bit of strength and had to be cautious the rest of the day.

Two weeks ago I went backpacking with some friends from church on the Duckabush River Trail in the Olympic National Park.  About a mile from 5-mile camp while heading down a steep grade, I slipped a bit on a slick tree root and jammed my left knee.  This time I definitely felt pain, but it wasn't bad and I was easily able to keep going, eventually hiking 13 miles that day.  On the trek out the next morning my knee was a little sore, but again not bad and certainly nothing to keep me from hiking.  (Not that I had a choice!)

Over the next week I kept running as usual, but I could definitely tell my left knee felt weak, which affected my stride as my body naturally adjusted and tried to take pressure off that leg.  Easter weekend I flew back to Iowa to spend time with my family.  The weather was awesome, so I geared up, hopped in my dad's Honda Element, and drove out to the Volksweg trail by Lake Red Rock for a 6 mile-run.  Everything felt pretty good until the last couple miles - then it seemed as though my left leg self-destructed.  I started having flashbacks to the Rock'nRoll marathon in 2002 when my right IT band seized up.

Back home I downed some ibuprofen and put my knee on ice.  Nothing I did seemed to help much, as the pain just got worse.  A week and a half later and not a whole lot has changed.  The pain has eased off a bit, but the weakness and stiffness in my left knee is obvious.  I've tried other physical activity at the gym - swimming in particular - but it seems just about anything that involves bending my knee (which is just about anything) means varying degrees of pain. 

Next week Thursday I have an appointment to see the sports medicine doctor.  It will be quite interesting to see what conclusions he comes to, and how I react.  I've actually spent a great deal of time pondering what my life would be like without running.  If I'm really be honest I have to confess pretty much hating the idea.  Paul said it is a gift to learn contentment in all circumstances, but I'm a poor student at this point.  I'm focused on how I can get back to the life I used to have, instead of listening to what the Lord might be trying to communicate in this situation.

My birthday party started with just one person, my friend Philip.  We sat and talked for quite some time about our walk with God, and the confusion we often felt in trying to discern his calling on our lives. A general theme of disappointment and uncertainty ran through our conversation as we pondered who God wanted us to be and our present reality.  Thankfully we both acknowledged God's overwhelming grace in this process (ever read Romans 7?  I think Paul was there too), and when my friend Rich showed up we spent some time praying over these things together and giving these burdens to the one who can help us overcome any obstacle. 

There is much to learn in life when hearts are open and spirits humble.  If nothing this whole situation has reinforced God's great love for me and awaked his desire to spend time in intimate fellowship.  That last point is one I still stumble over quite a bit - can't we do things my way?  My physical body may be 36 going on 66, but my spirit still fights at times like I'm 3.  I'm guessing there are one or two others out there who can relate. 

Turning a Corner

What a difference a year can make.  I say that with a certain sense of gravity, along with a healthy dose of relief.  In March of 2008 I was experiencing what would easily be the most difficult time in my life since deciding to follow Jesus.  That rough patch would take nearly six months to finally start to smooth out a bit, but it's really been in the last month or so that I've felt like things here in Seattle have truly began to "click."

Isolation and loneliness have been by far the biggest recurring issues since moving to the Pacific Northwest.  Making friends from scratch is hard enough, but when I arrived I never really stopped to think about the possible ramifications of joining a home church of about ten people.  Now don't get me wrong - I love each and every member of that home church dearly, and today am happy to call each one a friend - but as a 30-something year old man I'd effectively cut off my main route for connecting with other brothers and sisters in Christ. 

Everything came to a head about two months ago, when I arranged a meeting with the director of the LIving Waters program I went through last year.  He listened with deep concern to my struggles, then matter-of-factly stated the obvious solution - "Ryan, you need to join a bigger church."

Now I'd thought the same thing myself many times, and actually spoken to one of the men in the home church once about that very topic, but I just couldn't let go.  Part of it was not wanting to step out once again into the unknown, and the other part was a desire to avoid any conflict or hurt feelings.  However, I was finally at a point where the sense of isolation (no doubt aided by the dark winter skies and lack of sun) made me start to feel a bit emotionally unstable.  Something had to change.

So, not long after that crucial meeting I sat before the entire home church on a Sunday night and gently poured out my heart, sharing my critical need for a larger relational network in Seattle, and asking for their blessing in that transition.  I made sure everyone knew there while things had happened that left me disappointed or hurt at times, I was not leaving with hard feelings towards anyone.   They were all still friends, and outside of me not being there for Sunday gatherings anymore the nature of our relationships really wouldn't change much.  Fortunately everyone understood where I was coming from, and I received their heartfelt support and blessing.  WHEW!

Maybe six weeks or so ago I began attending the downtown campus of Mars Hill Church in Seattle.  I've already connected with a great small group that reminds me of a slightly younger version of the one I had in San Francsico, and I'm quickly making a lot of new friends.  I've also maintained my connections with the home church - my friend Al and I still meet Tuesday mornings at 6pm for prayer, then again on Thursday  nights for Bible study, the larger group still invites me to community gatherings and events, and best of all, I'm now renting a 2-bedroom flat with one of the guys from the home church!

It seems ironic, but in some ways my connection with the old church is even deeper!  The tale of how this all came to be is truly a 'waiting on the Lord" kind of moment.  My time living in the spare room at Al's place was quickly coming to the agreed upon close, and I was starting to feel growing anxiety about my search for a new home.  Then, a "For Rent" sign appeared in a house not more than a block away - I called the number listed, and a few days later stopped by to look at the place and fell in love. 

Excited, I gave Rick (from the home church) a call and told him I'd found a great place for rent, and wanted to know if he'd be interested in being my roommate.  We'd actually been talking about this for quite some time, but neither one of us had ever really been that serious.  On my part, I never felt comfortable, in part because of my fear that feelings of loneliness and isolation might actually intensify if Rick did his own thing.  When I made some solid connections at Mars Hill, that fear went away, and my feelings quickly turned to excitement as I thought about the possiblities of being a point of connection between the two bodies - one small, one large, both united by Christ.

At first Rick's enthusiasm for the idea was rather tepid - he liked the place, but didn't want to leave his old neighborhood.  Then - he changed his mind!  I've never really asked what caused the change, and honestly it doesn't matter.  As of two weeks ago we officially became roommates, in a charming 100-year-old home next to Jimi Hendrix park of all places.  The place has charm, I can still take all the same buses to and from work, an awesome bike and running trail is right outside my door, and Al and his wife Iris are just down the street.  Sometimes I stop and burst into spontaneous thankstiving and praise.  I feel so grateful for what I've been given.

It's been a long wait, but it finally feels like I've turned a corner here in Seattle.  The days are longer, the daffodils and cherry trees are in blossom, I'm training for a half marathon in June, planning hiking and camping trips for the summer, and even managing to get in some good snowboarding before the season ends later in April.  There are lots of new faces in life these days, but the "old" ones (that in comparison to many of my friends really aren't old at all) are still around too.  The Lord has given me a home, friends, fellowship, a good job, and too many other things to list. 

I haven't talked much about same-sex attraction, and what place that issue has in my life these days.  Not a day goes by that I don't deal with it in some manner - my narcissistic streak has been a tough nut to crack, and the "empty spaces" I once wrote about still cry out from time to time - but as my basic emotional needs get met I find the whole issue starts to fade into the background.  I'm beginning to understand that change is not so much a one-time event as it is a lifetime of daily deciding to follow Jesus.  It's great to have a lot of people with me on that journey. 

What I've Been Reading

In no particular order, a list of some of the books I've read in the past six months or so and a short blurb about each:

1.  Devil Take the Hindmost:  A History of Financial Speculation -  One of the portfolio managers at work was interviewed for an article and asked to give a reading recommendation.  This was it.  Hands-down one of the most fascinating books I've read in quite some time.  If you want to understand why the United States is in the mess it is now, pick up this book.  I thought it was quite funny that once upon a time my Dutch ancestors were paying an amount equal to three year's salary for - a tulip bulb!  The basic premise of the book is this - credit = speculation.  The more credit is available, the more speculation takes place, leading to a vicious cycle of boom/bust.  Large amounts of easy credit = spectacular economic disasters.  Sound familiar?  The book was published in 1999 but the author (without even trying) predicted the technology crash in 2000 and the real estate crash that we're still going through today.

2.  Car -  Written by Mary Walton, this book takes you deep into the bowels of Ford as they create what would become the 1996 Taurus, a car I think looks like a giant catfish.  You'd think a book about making a car would be about as captivating as watching paint dry, but I loved it. 

3.  Comeback:  The Fall & Rise of the American Automobile Industry -  This book was published in 1995, at a time when it appeared the U.S. Auto industry had turned a corner and was finally looking at bright future.  Unlike "Car," this book pops the hood on the big three in Detroit - Ford, GM, and Chrysler.  GM takes the hardest knocks; they seem prescient considering what is happening to the company right now, despite the author's optimism at the time.  (I actually wrote him an e-mail, asking if he had plans for a sequel.  He said yes; it will be published this year and be called something like "Crash Course")  If you want to understand how Detroit got to where it is today, pick up this book.

4.  Murder by Family:  The Incredible True Story of a Son's Treachery and a Father's Forgiveness - I picked this up at the library, thinking it would be something like Corrie Ten Boom's story in "The Hiding Place."  In all honesty I found it hard to read, but am still glad I took the time to do it.  I guess the big lesson I learned is put myself in someone else's shoes before rushing to judgment.  The self-righteous Ryan was turned off by Kent Whitaker's attempts to analyze - and in my mind perhaps in some way justify - the horrific actions of Bart.  When I put myself in Kent's situation and think of how I might react, I feel pretty ashamed.  If my wife and youngest son were dead, and my oldest son - the only remaining member of my immediate family - were on death row, I'd probably spend a lot of time trying to understand and figure things out too.  In the end, Kent's impulse to forgive comes straight out of the Bible and the words of Jesus.

5.  Lone Survivor:  The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10 - This book had a personal twist as I knew one of the SEALS that was killed in Afghanistan.  The SEALS are truly a special breed of soldier.  I don't think I would have lasted through the first 5 minutes of their training, let alone the week+ Marcus Luttrell spent in the wild, wounded and hunted by the Taliban.  I thought it was quite moving how a clan of Afghans would take Marcus in and defend him with their very lives.  Sadly, 19 American soldiers lost their lives in the mission; 3 SEALS on the groud with Marcus, and 16 more in the rescue party whose helicopter was shot down.  Matt Axelson was one of the SEALS with Marcus on their fateful mission.  Back in December of 1993 I went snowboarding for the first time with my friend Mike out in Utah.  We were joined by a bunch of his friends from California, and one of them brought along his little brother Matt.  On my last trip home to Iowa I found a picture of him from that trip.  The whole lot of us had decided to do crazy stuff with our hair.  I had a mohawk; Mike shaved a swirl in his head, his buddy Jeff shaved his head down the middle, and Matt dyed his hair jet black.

6.  Guests of the Ayatollah - Mark Bowden is probably best known for "Black Hawk Down," but this book is excellent as well.  I think this is a must-read for anyone trying to understand the clash between Islam and America.  The great part was meeting an Iranian this past week at a small-group Bible study I just joined.  In 1979 the Khomeini regime threw him into the infamous Evin prision in Tehran, where he would spend three years and undergo severe torture, all for his family's alleged ties to the Shah.  When he was released in 1982, he fled the country and ended up in Japan, where he would read the gospels and meet Jesus, the God of love.  It was powerful to hear straight "from the horse's mouth" the stark contrast between the God of Islam and the Lord Jesus.  He had large portions of Scripture memorized, and as he weaved them into his testimony it brought the Word alive in a way I'd never experienced, particularly Paul's words in Romans 7 & 8.

Currently on my roster - "Confessions of a Mullah Warrior" by Masood Farivar.

Friendship and Facebook

Facebook is the new social networking hot spot on the Internet.  MySpace is so three years ago.  Xanga?  Who does that anymore?  And what ever happened to Friendster? 

According to Facebook, I have 168 friends.  What exactly "friend" means is open to interpretation.  Right now I'm in the process of joining a new church here in Seattle so I can make more friends and expand my social network.  Seems a bit strange when I already have 168 "friends" doesn't it?

I always hesitate when I get a new friend request on Facebook.  Does the fact that I hooked up with someone 10 years ago, or bumped into them high out of my mind at 3am in some San Francisco South of Market club equal friendship?  How about someone I barely knew in high school, let alone every hung out with?  Several "friends" are people I've never met or even talked to!  It sometimes feels like "friends" on sites like Facebook are really just trophies in a giant popularity contest.  Either that or I just have a very different idea of what constitutes friendship.

I'd get rid of Facebook in a heartbeat, except for the fact that it has been instrumental in connecting with people from my past that I really did want to find.  And yes, there are people on Facebook who I really do consider close friends, and it is a lot of fun to have such an easy way to share my pictures with everyone.  *sigh*  The dilemas of our modern world.  The technology that is supposed to connect us all leaves me feeling empty and lonely, while chatting with a good friend over coffee for even 30 minutes feels like finding an oasis in a bone-dry desert.

Five Years

Five years ago I had been celibate for exactly one week.  Why that would be a big deal to anyone is a fair question to ask.  Sex was more than just something I did for pleasure or intimacy; it was also formed a large part of my identity and the shaky foundation of my self-esteem. 

Today sexual purity feels, well, normal.  Good.  I'm happy that the last five years have included exactly zero indulgences in pornography.  That also feels normal, but looking back it easily seems more like a miracle.

Add to the mix a little over five years of sobriety, and I can't help but feel very humble and very blessed.  There are plenty of "issues" to deal with in my day-to-day life, but it sure helps when I can face them with a clear mind and undivided heart.

Transitions

One of the main avenues God has used to bring healing and growth in my life has been a strong brotherhood of Christian men.  In San Francisco it started with the three men who would start as roommates but quickly became brothers.  Back in Iowa, my days were literally spent with my older brother, riding across south central Iowa in a giant delivery van while we shared our lives with each other.  Cambodia brought a dynamic spectrum of men who helped me stretch in ways I never thought possible. 

I figured in Seattle I would easily find much of the same camaraderie I'd experienced before, but that hasn't really happened.  When I arrived in September of 2007, I joined a small home church of about 10 people.  (The story of how that happened deserves a post of its own)  I'd formed a pretty close bond with one of the two single guys in the church, and figured that would be sufficient since I was participating in Living Waters.  By the time the program was over, I figured I'd have expanded my "brotherhood" network considerably.

That never really happened.  When you're a group of 10 whose relationships are focused primarily on reaching the lost, you don't get a lot of opportunities to meet other Christians.  So a year and a half later, my relational network among believers in Seattle is pretty much the same as it was shortly after I arrived. 

Now this is no way some sort of "rant" or venting on my part - more a humbling realization of what my needs are at this stage in life.  After seeking counsel from men I consider wise and mature (including one from the home church), it became clear that my current fellowship would never be able to provide the community of brothers I both longed for and truly needed. 

This past Sunday I asked for (and received!  Thank you Lord) their blessing to seek out and join a larger church community.  Fortunately I'm not leaving with any bitterness or hard feelings - the home church will always be like a family to me, and in many ways the nature of the friendships I have there really won't change much.  We'll still see each other, still work together to make Jesus known to the people we love in Seattle, still call each other brothers and sisters in Christ.

I'm in the initial stages of my search, and so far am encouraged by what I've found.  After feeling like a number of areas in my life were stuck in neutral due to a lack of godly men speaking into my life, its good to be moving forward again.

American Idol

Several weeks ago I decided to turn on the TV while eating dinner on the couch and stumbled across Season 8 of American Idol.  I watched a decent amount of Season 2 back in the day but haven't seen much since.  Now that "Battlestar Galactica" is back on the SciFi channel, I've been the most television (two hours a week!) in at least five years.  (I was a History Channel zombie for several years in San Francisco)

Watching young people in tears as they cry and plead about "their dream" brings back a lot of memories.  Once I get past the absurdity of it all, I look inside and realize the insanity that consumed my life for many years to pursue the same goals - fame, adoration, affirmation, and ultimately, love.

Confession time - for years I secretly dreamed of being a superstar vocalist, standing in front of awed crowds as I dazzled them with a stunning performance.  Most of the time the setting was the same - the drab concrete stage of my old high school, with those giant maroon curtains hanging to the right and left, my old classmates mesmerized by how awesome I was and how utterly pathetic they were in the face of such superior talent. 

Of course, reality was a far cry from my dreams.  Choir was my life in high school.  As a singer, I was definitely above average - I'd even say "good" - but a far cry from anything near exceptional.  My senior year I did get to sing a few solos during concerts, which would pretty much be the extent of my fame.  Still, the fantasy persisted - not through the age of 18, but all the way to the age of 30. There was something about feeling so invisible during High School that left a deep scar, and the endless dreams were my mental band-aids.

In San Francisco I finally got the stage I though I'd always wanted, at least in my own mind.  Being a gay club kid gave me plenty of opportunities to make myself the center of attention.  I think back on my behavior at times and wonder if I was maybe shooting for center of the universe.  Things really kicked into overdrive when I got hired by a big club promoter to do photography for his website and event promotions.  Suddenly my name was plastered on fliers all over the city, then a magazine that was distributed in several different countries around the world.  One of my pictures was even used for a front-page story in one of the San Francisco newspapers (ironically, in a story about the dark underside of the life in which I was so wrapped up).

Strange, but in the midst of all this I was still dreaming about high school, still lost in a fantasy where I proved to my classmates just how amazing I really was.  I'd like to say this happened once or twice a year, but in reality it was more like several times a week.  I'd finally got my stage, but despite being surrounded by a sea of people, the room still felt empty, and inside I was still invisible. 

My high school fantasies stopped the day Jesus entered my life.  Every now and then I still dream about being a great singer, but I don't think about adoring crowds anymore.  I just imagine myself doing something I love - and sounding awesome!  I'm sure a bit of the old issues are lurking, but at least I don't feel like a 16-year-old kid anymore, desperately trying to prove something to people who haven't been part of my life in over 15 years.  At 35 going on 36, I'll take humble and healthy over glamorous any day.

When He Appears

Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.  (I Jn 3:2)

By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.  (I Jn 3:19,20)

Tonight I came to the conclusion that I'm finally getting used to winter in Seattle.  Today was cold - cold enough that we started the day to snow, which by the time I got off the bus and started walking towards home had turned to light rain.  There's something about the damp air that sinks right into my bones, not stopping until its reached the very tips of my feet.  I love running, but a year ago I would have taken one step outside and turned right back around.  This evening I set out with gusto and loved every moment.

Over the last week or so I've been reading through the book of I John.  I think its funny how different parts of the Bible can have such profound meaning at different times in my life.  I John has always been a favorite, but usually I just blaze right through.  Not this time.  The last few days I've been taking it slow, stopping to ponder the significance of John's message about Jesus, faith, and love.  Its felt like a spiritual marinade.

I don't recall ever being hit by the second verse of chapter 3; usually I focus on the verse every good Christian seems to know because we all sang it in Sunday school - "Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us, that, we, should be called the sons of God."  (Ok now I have it stuck in my head) 

Trust me I still love that verse, but in light of my last blog entry its verse 2 that really sticks out.  John lays out the dual reality of a kingdom that has both come and not yet come fully.  We are God's children now, and yet we know there is much more to come.  One day we will do more than just have faith in Jesus; we will actually be like him.

I had a great conversation recently with a friend about Jesus.  We both agreed that you can't come away from the gospels and not like him.  God can be really hard to figure out, but Jesus - while he doesn't always do what we expect him to do - makes sense.  I see the way he loves, forgives, honors and redeems, and I long to be like him.  At times I look at my life and get discouraged because I seem a million miles away from even a shadow of his example.  I guess that's nothing new; my brothers and sisters 2,000 years ago must have gone through some of the same feelings.  "When is he coming back?  When will we be like him?" 

One day we will be like him.  Amazing, isn't it?  I can't wait.