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I apologize: This post is long overdue.

It’s been a few weeks since I reconnected with more than 20 of the best friends I could ever have in this season of life.

I’m part of a group of men from across the country called Rhythm In Twenty.  The premise is simple: find a better balance between life, love, passions and pursuits in the midst of a community of commonality.

This trip, this year, for me, was simply amazing.

We spent a lot of time in San Diego talking about the nature of a harbor.  The definition we started with stirred something significant deep within my heart throughout the four days:

Harbor.

A place along the coast with deep waters so vessels can drop anchor, so situated with respect to coastal features to provide protection from winds, waves and currents.

A place of refuge and shelter; rest, to weary refugees.

A place to maintain, entertain, contain, hold and capture thoughts.

An asylum, sanctuary, retreat.

A haven; a place of safety in a time of storms.

That discussion of ‘harbor’ led to a deeper discussion: We spent a lot of time trying to rediscover what causes us to be deeply connected to God and to the present moment.

Here’s the reality: So much of the distraction of life causes me to float.  I spent a lot of time thinking, praying and brainstorming with my friends how we can be deeply intentional and deeply engaged.

For me, I’m convinced it means creating more margin for those things that bring me life.  I’ve spent time in the past few weeks, since returning to Nashville, dreaming a little bit about what that’s going to look like, given the challenges of life.  Simply put, I think it’s going to mean a few changes, a little bit of re-prioritizing and a lot of new adventure.

I think it has to mean a few changes.  I refuse to float, burn out and otherwise, live a ’status quo’ existence.

Yes, the harbor had its lessons, its rest and yes, its play. (I tried surfing for the first time and failed horribly!)  But the thing about the harbor is that we weren’t made to live there.  We were made to live on the high seas: the ups-and-downs, the ebbs-and-flows, the challenges and the successes.

I’m back on the high seas with fond memories of the harbor and grateful for the lessons I learned there.