"Deep Nostalgia"

I sat in the pew as sorrow washed over my soul like rain pouring from a rooftop. Many thoughts swirled through my mind. I grasped at memories that gave me comfort. I did not feel a part of it, I knew I did not really belong here, but here I was, wondering, pondering, scrambling in my mind for answers to the why and how I ended up at this place. I closed my eyes, and there I was, surrounded by familiar faces and things. I felt a deep sense of joy and peace as I clapped and sang in an atmosphere of fellowship and warmth.

It was a time in my life when

everything seemed so simple, so right. The melodies of worship filled the air,

and praises echoed in the sanctuary. There was a rhythm to our days—a sense of

community that grounded me, gave me purpose. I could almost feel the presence

of something greater, a quiet assurance that I was part of something bigger

than myself. Back then, I never gave much thought to what tomorrow would bring.

I was too content with the simplicity of it all.

But now, sitting in the presence of

an unfamiliar and haughty assembly, the shouts in the air felt like a heavy

burden pressing on my chest. How had I lost it all? How had I slipped so far

from the sense of belonging that once defined me? I glanced around,

half-expecting to see the faces of the people I once held so dear, but instead,

I was surrounded by strangers. The place had changed. The faces had changed.

And worst of all, I had changed.

You never know a good thing till it

is gone. How many times had I heard those words? How many times had I dismissed

them, thinking they did not apply to me? Life had a way of offering everything

you needed, but only when you least expected it. And then, in an instant, it

could all slip away. I had taken it all for granted—the friends, the support,

the laughter that echoed through every corner of my life. I never imagined a

time when I would wish for just one more day in that community, one more chance

to be part of something so pure and good.

Now, sitting in this pew, I

realized how deeply I had taken that period of my life for granted. How many

times had I complained about the very things that now felt like distant

memories I would do anything to relive? I had let life pull me away from it all,

chasing after things I thought were more important, more exciting. The rush of

the world had led me astray, until suddenly, I found myself standing here in

the quiet, the absence of all that warmth and joy that once defined me.

I opened my eyes and blinked,

trying to refocus. The reality of my situation felt overwhelming. I missed the

way my soul used to soar in moments of worship, the way my heart used to beat

in rhythm with the others around me. I missed the sound of familiar voices

calling my name, the feeling of belonging to something much bigger than myself.

And now, all I had were echoes of those times—memories that seemed so distant,

so out of reach.

As the service continued, I forced

myself to listen, to pay attention to the words being spoken. The pastor's

voice was warm and comforting, but it did not reach me. I was too lost in my

thoughts, too wrapped up in the longing for something I may never get back.

The world had shifted, and so had I.

And yet, as the final prayer was

offered, I realized something. It was not too late. Just maybe, I could find my

way back—back to that sense of peace, back to the community that had once been

my refuge. I had lost my way, yes, but that did not mean the door was forever

closed. This was the first step—recognizing the emptiness, acknowledging the

loss, and finding the strength to rebuild what had been broken.

You never know a good thing till it

is gone, but sometimes, even when it is gone, you can still find your way back.

The will of the Lord must be done, and His will lead me back to that place

where I knew a good thing. 

As I sat there, I thought of the

ways I could start anew. The journey ahead would not be easy. It would require

commitment and faithfulness—not just to the people I had once known, but to God

Himself. I had neglected my devotion, allowed myself to drift, and in doing so,

I had neglected the very purpose that had once filled me with life and meaning:

to glorify Him in everything I did.

It was in this moment, alone in a

place that felt unfamiliar, that I began to grasp the weight of what it meant

to truly serve. Committing to God’s work was not about a momentary burst of

enthusiasm or a fleeting connection—it was about choosing faithfulness, day in

and day out. It was about finding ways to glorify Him, even in the smallest

acts, even in places that felt foreign.

I thought of the work I had

abandoned, the ways I had once served—whether through the quiet work of helping

others, the effort I put into being present in community, or the prayers I had

once poured out with sincerity and trust. I had allowed myself to forget that

even the mundane acts of kindness and service were offerings to God. And here,

in this unfamiliar place, I knew that I could start again, that I could commit

to being faithful in every corner of my life.

I remembered the words from

Scripture: “Whatever you do, do it

all for the glory of God.” At

that moment, I understood. My commitment was not just about returning to what

was lost—it was about pushing forward, growing in my faithfulness, and looking

to honor God in every step. Whether friends or strangers surrounded me, whether

I felt comfortable or out of place, my calling was clear: to be His hands and

feet, to love others as He had loved me, and to glorify Him with all my heart.

The path ahead would not be easy. I

knew that. But the seed of commitment had been planted. I did not need to have

all the answers or the perfect circumstances to serve Him. I simply needed to

start. Even here, even now, I could commit myself once more to His work. And

through that, I could find my way back to the peace and joy that had once

filled my heart.

You never know a good thing till it

is gone, but you also never know what God can do with a heart that is willing

to commit, to be faithful, and to trust that He can make something beautiful,

even in the most unfamiliar places.