Nostolgia Lost – Living In The Present

Synopsis     Joshua 22:8-16     5/23/2018

Having been dismissed by Joshua, the warriors from the tribes of Reuben, Gad and Manasseh began their return home. As they did, Joshua reminded them to share the great haul of booty they had acquired in the conquest with their neighbors who remained behind in their homeland.

On the return trip, as the warriors crossed back over the Jordan to return to their homes, they decided to build a monument. They chose to build a replica of the altar as a memorial of their participation in the conquest.

The Tendency Toward Nostalgia

The conquest was over. The shouts of joy and exaltation had died down. The feasting and celebrating was finished. It was unavoidable. It was time to go home.

But for the three eastern tribes, going home meant a separation from the strong sense of unity they had experienced during the conquest. Their sendoff and the return trek served as poignant reminders that, in choosing to live in the land east of the Jordan, they had chosen to be separate from the rest of the Israelites.

But in those moments of ending and of separation, they found themselves desiring that the feelings of unity and purpose would continue. It was a nostalgia for the exhilarating glory days of unity and purpose.  It was an uncertainty they would ever experience anything like it again.

Nostolgia Lost – Living in the Present

It’s the way we are. When the good times are “rolling”, we don’t want them to stop. Maybe it was a great fellowship where a friend shared a profound insight. Or, perhaps some epiphany of understanding came in the midst of a particular mass. Or, maybe it’s the strong sense of worshipful fraternity in the midst of a praise and worship service.

I don’t want it to end.

It has to end. I know it has to end. My rational self understands that it’s time to go home. But my emotional sense of appreciation and value is so engaged that letting a good time end is painful. I don’t want it to end. I want the feelings to continue.

It’s a trap. It’s a bad habit. To not want to get off the mountaintop – to not want to come down from the mountain – is to misunderstand the mountain and it’s moment.

Every moment of my life is rich. Every second of my life is pregnant with the possibility of faithfulness. If I choose, I can rejoice as much in coming down the mountain as I did going up – not because of the afterglow – but because each moment could glow on its own.

“[To him] Jesus said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:62