Ultreia: Onward

Ultreia: Onward

The title of this post has been in my mind for about four months now. I love the way the vowel-filled word tastes in my mouth. I love the meaning it carries: “Onward”.

Back in July, when this Latin-based, French-influenced, spoken-in-Santiago word entered my vocabulary and I was basking in the glow of pilgrimage, I was certain this word would characterize how I would continue to live my life. A type of “Onward, Christian soldier” phrase as I whole-heartedly pursued the Lord, as I traveled and adventured and sought to bring the Kingdom of God to the ends of the earth.

Then, I thought the word would mean the pursuit of a new dream, a change of study, moving into an more intense career path, with a double major and thoughts of grad school and beyond swimming around in my head.

And now? Well, now I’m not so sure.

To be honest, I’m feeling quite disillusioned.

By apathy.        
    By restlessness.            
           By blind-love driven relationships.

By finally thinking I had all my future plans figured out…and now have no real idea of what I want to do.

By busyness.

     By restlessness.

            By the disparity of wealth.

By trying to understand how it is I can spend tens of thousands of dollars to study at a place full of people like me, with the motto “For Christ and His Kingdom”, when every news headline seems to show the kingdom is farther away than ever, and I just don’t feel like I’m doing anything about it.

And this whole “onward and upward!” mentality seems completely shot.

It’s like the time Lexi and I laughed so hard at the airport in Frankfurt, as our sleep-deprived selves thought trying to walk in the opposite direction on the moving walkway was the funniest thing anyone had ever done.


It’s not so funny anymore.

Not when it feels like you’re trying to push upstream against doubts and questions, and just life in general, and the moving walkway we so carelessly call life chugs on in the same, monotonous reel.

I had dinner with a friend last week, the kind of friend who always knows just the right questions to ask. The questions that cut you to your core.

This time, it was his answers that struck me.
Because I was the one with all the questions.

How do I know God is good?

Why do I feel stuck in this place?

Why is apathy so heavy? Why has this feeling never struck me before?

Am I losing my faith?

He let me ramble on and on, as I tossed around these questions I knew the Christian-ese answers to, but didn’t necessary trust. Then, he looked at me and said:

“You’re right. That feeling you get when you’re worshipping in chapel, when the music swells and your eyes tear up, that may be powerful. But I would argue that’s not faith. Actually, I can say pretty certainly that’s not faith.

“Faith is doing what you’re doing. Asking questions. Seeking guidance. All built on the foundation of trusting that God is who He says He is. That’s faith. So, keep asking.”

I don’t really know where God is right now.
But I know that He’s there.

I don’t really know what He’s got planned for me, much less the world.
But I know that He’s good.

I don’t know why so many people have to be persecuted and discriminated against and feel lost and suffer and die.

But I know that Jesus lives.

And when all the platitudes fade away and you’re left standing face-to-face with your faith, three truths like those make all the difference.


And so ultreia is no longer romantic. I don’t envision it flying high on banners being carried up mountains. I don’t see it moving into bigger and better things, from one challenge, one place of prosperity to the next.

Ultreia looks a lot more like Mary.
An adulterous woman, despised by the “righteous”, who ran to Jesus’ feet the second she heard he was coming. She didn’t do anything to prepare for this guest. She didn’t have any answers. She simply wanted to be with him.

Because ultimately, that’s the only place where all the answers are found. 

Even when it seems shadowed.

Maybe “onward and upward” is climbing mountains for some. And in its time, that has its place. But right now, for me, it’s putting one foot in front of the other as I trudge through the valley. It’s step after step on a moving walkway.
And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.
In fact, it’s really beautiful.

We weren’t meant to live life on a spiritual high. And so if I don’t feel that, so what?
I’m trusting God to be there as I’m stretched, as I grow, as the fabric of a faith that I’ve never really questioned begins to fray at the edges.
It’s not really glorious.

In fact, it looks pretty much like ugly, sticky, daily life.

And so? That’s perfect.

Because Jesus lived in that ugly, sticky, daily.
And I’d rather follow Him through the valleys than feel sky-high on my lonesome.

Ask me how I’m doing? I’ll say I’m feeling pretty lost.
But most importantly, I’m moving.
And I’d like to continue to do so.
So,

Ultreia.