Little Wisdoms

When you live a highly mobile life, saying goodbye is inevitable. But see, I didn’t know this. I didn’t understand the inevitability of goodbyes—that all relationships must end one way or another.

Growing up in China as a missionary kid, I watched many people come and go. I, too, came and went. During the seven years I lived there, I said more goodbyes than I had in my entire life before then. People came because of work, a calling, or an opportunity. And people left for the same reasons. My heart would grow warm towards a friend, only to have them leave in a year or two.

So, I learned not to give my heart away as easily. I wrapped it in boxing tape and placed it in a moving box, knowing I would have to unpack it when my family moved again. To the relationships I did have, I gave my heart in pieces—always suspicious, yet hopeful that they would last.

After many years of saying goodbyes, I grew into a bitter soul, bitter to my core. Everything we said in the spur of the moment felt like a lie. Best Friends Forever? Lie. I’ll love you forever? Lie. Distance makes the heart grow fonder? A big, fat lie.

I threw all my transient friendships into a dry well, trying not to think about them too much. But they slowly started overflowing, oozing into my consciousness and making me wonder if I was the culprit. Was everyone leaving because of me? Am I not a good enough person?

Fast forward a couple of years, and I met the love of my life. We dated long distance for four years across the Pacific Ocean. During that time, my childhood intuition kicked in every time we had a fight. I was certain he was going to leave me. It was over. I braced myself for the blow. The next day, I would ask him, “Is our relationship over?” Calling it out first somehow made it a little better. He was incredulous. “What do you mean, over? We just had a fight.” This guy, nothing I did made him want to leave me. All my sorrow, hurt, self-pity, and past baggage—he was in it for good. He often reminded me, “We’re in this together. I’m never leaving you.”

I needed to hear that. My soul needed to hear that. Nobody had ever said those words to me and stuck with them. Through thick and thin, he stayed. When I pushed him away, he stayed. When I pulled him in, he stayed. He was like a vast ocean, and I was a tiny boat. None of my rocking and swirling created even a tiny wave of doubt in his big ocean heart. So I stopped fighting. I stopped doubting and testing his love. I simply accepted that he was here to stay, that he truly meant what he said, unlike anyone else I had met.

Slowly, my heart opened to the idea of a faithful God. A God who keeps His promises. A God who does not change His mind on a whim. A God who is not like man, that He should lie. What He says, He will do. What He has spoken, He will fulfill. His love isn’t based on my good acts. He isn’t stingy, nor does He keep scores. I thought He did. I had created an image in my head of a God who keeps a tally of my good and bad. I was mostly a mess, so there were probably more tallies for my wrongs than for the good in my life. The good were mostly gifts from Him anyway.

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.” I love how these were Jesus’ parting words to His disciples before He ascended to heaven. Imagine the grief and panic that must have swept over them!

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.” It wasn’t that I didn’t know He had said those words. It was just that my mind couldn’t comprehend the concept of never leaving someone—until I saw it embodied in my husband. That’s what Jesus means. There are no goodbyes with Jesus. The moment you say hi and welcome Him in, there is no goodbye. You better have a couch or a guest bedroom ready because He ain’t leaving, buddy.

Only when I understood Jesus’ faithfulness was I able to properly say goodbye to others. I began to adopt an eternal mindset about these moments. One of my closest friends and mentors in Texas recently moved to New Hampshire. She felt called to serve at a church in a hostile environment. The grief and panic that swept over me when I found out she was leaving! Yet, my perspective had changed. Instead of reacting with a bitter “well, our friendship was never going to last anyway” mentality, I was calm and even moved by her obedience to God’s calling. I knew our friendship would survive the thousands of miles between us.

I knew our friendship would last because we both share an eternal perspective on relationships. We both long for the coming of Jesus and strive to build His Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. So we found ways to pray, connect, encourage one another, and visit each other. We know that divine appointments are unique, rare, and, well, divine.

With a more secure identity in Christ and His faithfulness, I can confidently say, Goodbye, my friend. I will miss you and your presence here. But God willing, as we work towards building the Kingdom of God together, I am sure our paths will cross again.