Amy and I just returned from Italy.  We were celebrating our 20^th anniversary and spent the week traveling from the south of Italy to north, finishing up our time in Venice.  The trip was perfect in every way—the food, wine, new friendships, and of course, all the incredible history.  If you haven’t yet experienced the romance of Italia, start saving your pennies—it is worth every dollar.  The downside of traveling is that I know I will be out of balance.  I will lack the emotional equilibrium that comes with everyday life.  Traveling gives me a little shove out of that stability that I depend on Monday through Sunday.  My coffee and pillow and favorite chair;  the coffee house where I spend so much time are now beyond reach.  I am forced into new and sometimes scary experiences.  When I am home I don’t have to think about where I will go or what I will do or how I will have to navigate the city.  I am home and home has intrinsic security.  So as I pack my bags I usually find myself asking, “God, will you teach me or re-teach me or remind me of what is true about yourself and the gospel life while I am most aware?”  That is, when I leave the rhythm of comfort and home, I find that God speaks.  Not necessarily more loudly, but perhaps I am just more awake to his voice in my unique circumstances.  My ears are attuned.  So as we journeyed through one of the most important countries on the planet, so full of history and power and influence, and oh, so much failure, it was difficult not to hear God’s teaching voice.  Here is what I learned from Italy (not in full, but for this post):

1. We become too familiar with beauty. The contrast of tourists and locals in Italy is comical.  We (the tourists) are walking slowly, all looking up—mouths agape.  Drinking in thousands of years of history and art.  Or we’re longingly looking into our lover’s eyes as we stroll down the canals in Venice.  We take a thousand pictures because we never want to forget.  But people live in Italy. You have to look hard, but they’re there. And they are walking fast.  Heads down, usually in their phones.  They do not see where they are.  They forget where they live and what is before them.  The Coliseum and the Square of Miracles and the Grand Canal fade into the background of jobs and kids and bills and responsibilities. For clarity, this is not an Italian problem. This is a human problem. When we become too familiar with the grandeur of the Pacific, we are only left to complain about the sand.  If all we’ve known is the Alps, we long for a trip to the shopping mall.  We become blind to great things and revel in small things.  Or to quote Aesop’s fable, “Familiarity breeds contempt.”  A little check in my heart reminded me of my own little treasures at home that I walk past without a glance.  Not buildings or works of art, but things more precious—children and friendships and gospel community.  I forget how valuable they are.  I handle what is most treasured carelessly while giving my best energy to what will not last the test of time.

2. Every city has a Duomo (house of God). The largest brick and mortar dome in the world is in Florence, and it’s called the Duomo.  The official name of the church is the Santa Maria del Fiore.  Our tour guide off-handedly said, “This is our Duomo.  But every city has a house of God—a church that influences an entire city.”  I was so struck by that statement that I immediately pulled out my phone and jotted that little treasure down.  It’s true.  God reminded me that the church, the gospel community that gathers under domes and in storefronts and under tents and in arenas are meant to influence entire cities.  We don’t gather for the sake of gathering.  We aren’t in our city to build our own little kingdoms.  We don’t build structures so tourists can gawk at our architecture.  Our gathering and scattering as the people of God are sacred moments of influencing.  We are the city on a hill—a bright light in a dark place.  We are the Duomos.

3.  Slow down.  Be fully present. While we were in Rome, Amy got food poisoning.  I know, terrible timing.  But it happened and she was a trooper.  So we ditched on our tour of the Vatican and St. Peters so she could recover.  We were sad to miss so much history, but I was secretly grateful to not be standing in line for hours.  It turns out that Amy slept most of the day so I was free to drink lots of Italian espresso in a local café and enjoy a book I had brought on the trip.  It was a good day.  I have no pictures or profound memories of that day.  It was just a few hours in which no one was looking for me. I had no agenda except to appreciate my surroundings. I had the opportunity to just be present.  I watched two Italian preschoolers play on scooters.  One peed his pants. I laughed.  Two Italian college students hunched on a curb and shared a sandwich. I was encouraged by such basic generosity.  I giggled at two German tourists as they were arguing about where they were.  I loved just being present.  God whispered in that moment. “You can have this at home. Tomorrow is up to me. Appreciating today is up to you.”

4.  Celebrate the past, but lean into the future. Italy is all history.  Some of the greatest rulers, leaders, artists, and architects are from Italy.  It has an amazing past. But that’s all Italy really has.  I was struck by the irony of this once great capital of the world.  Rome ruled from England to India for 1400 years.  They were the most powerful empire on the planet.  Not now though.  In a short period of time, the tides shifted.  The power of Rome was split after the rule of Emperor Theodosius. The world was changing and Rome fell behind.  Of course, present-day Rome is not the Roman Empire.  In fact, the first Romans came from what is now modern-day Turkey, not Rome.  But what is so troubling is that Rome, at one time, was the seat of power for the entire world.  They believed the greatness of Rome would last forever.  But now?  Italy is just a destination spot for tourists. That’s not a bad thing.  But it occurred to me that their only future is remembering who they were.  That’s it.  Toppling buildings and tourist traps.  Standing in the ruins of the Forum in Rome I heard a whisper in my heart, “Celebrate the past, but don’t spend too much time there.  Ruins are not places where people live.”  We live in new places.  We grab hold of a faith in God that calls us to lean into an uncertain future, knowing God is already there.  He is building a city and a people that will not crumble and will not fade because it is built on an unshakable foundation.  Jesus is our King and eternal Emperor.