Already, But Not Yet
As this Fellows year comes to a close, and I reflect on where we’ve been and where we’re going, I am caught up in the “already, but not yet” of it all. A theme of our Metanarrative of Scripture class this year has been that we are living in the “already, but not yet.” If we view the Bible as a four-part narrative of Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Restoration, then we are living somewhere between Redemption and Restoration. Christ has already come to Earth and reconciled our fallen world through His life, death, and resurrection, and yet we still await Christ’s second coming, where God will ultimately make all things new, a new heaven and earth, where sin, death, and suffering will be no more.
Practically, this means we live in a world that is simultaneously beautiful and broken. A world where we see glimpses of heaven on earth, where the Holy Spirit is dwelling in us and always moving, but also a world plagued by sin and suffering and death. I look back on the past eight months, and this bittersweetness seems so clear. This year has been full of highs and lows, of joy and sorrow. I will admit, I moved to Nashville wearing rose-colored glasses– fitting if you know how much I like the color pink. It hit me hard to confront the reality of our broken world. How could God so clearly call me to a place and, at the same time, have it contain so much suffering?
I came to Nashville radiantly hopeful. I felt as though I was entering into a job and a home hand-picked for me. I was excited to enter into community, and already imagining the deep friendships and future wedding parties. I envisioned that this would be a year to redeem the hurts of my college experience, form deep friendships, form a second family, set roots, and ultimately enter Nashville adult life thriving. I figured I’d have a great year, do a great job, stay at my job placement post-fellows, fall in love with my community, maybe meet someone, and be married with a beautifully put-together life in Nashville by age 25. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.
By November, it was clear the cautions we’d been given about the hardships of Fellows life were real. We were busy, exhausted, and the newness of it all was wearing off. It’s hard to live in community, and it’s hard to have so many commitments. It’s hard to be away from family and friends, and it’s hard to live in a new family’s home. It’s hard to enter the workforce after 16 years of full-time schooling. It felt like all the difficulties of all these things came crashing down after Thanksgiving, when I learned I would need to move homes and did not know where I would be moving. It was as though all my neatly laid plans went up in smoke.
Now it’s April, and frankly, I’m still not sure what God is doing. The year certainly hasn't looked like I expected. I ultimately lived with several different families before settling down at the end of February. I’ve loved my job and my coworkers, but, due to the unfortunate realities of nonprofit fundraising, I cannot stay there post-Fellows. And with a month out from the end, it’s looking like my next steps may not be in Nashville at all. The unpredictability of it all was unexpected and distressing, exposing fears, lies, and hurts I’d avoided fully working through. And yet, despite the prominent suffering, it’s also been beautiful.
I’ve gotten to spend my life with 12 other young adults, simultaneously navigating the tumultuous transition into adulthood and the unique challenges of living in a community like ours. I’ve had eight months full of both laughter and tears. I’ve cried laughing at Nate and Peter’s ridiculous jokes. I’ve spent many nights chatting with Elizabeth or Kayla, being both the speaker and the listener as we process life together. I’ve been on the receiving end of generosity countless times, especially from Bailey, Samantha, and Anna, as they’ve checked in on me and helped me move my pink IKEA bags time and time again. I’ve watched my coworkers advocate for me and open their homes and wallets in ways I could not have expected. I’ve discovered many new coffee shops (and I love coffee), and have run into Will multiple times a month, both planned and unplanned. I’ve spent hours chatting with Alex and others in his car, both driving and looking for mysterious holes in his tires. I’ve gone caving, cliff jumping, and swing dancing. I’ve experienced Loveless Cafe’s iconic endless biscuits (they were amazing) and Red’s Hot Chicken Crunchwrap (you need to try it… it’s the best ever). I did meet someone, albeit not someone in Nashville (thanks, DC National Conference… I thought the hype of meeting someone at your breakout table was all jokes, but here I am). The memories of the past eight months have been bitter and sweet, “already, but not yet.” I see glimpses of heaven on earth in the same moment that I see the reality of pain and suffering, both in my life and in others.
I don’t know how my experiences in Nashville tie into God’s ultimate plan for me. I don’t know what the future holds or what seeds He’s been planting. I can’t yet see how God will redeem parts of my life, or where God has been actively redeeming. I’m not even sure yet what life looks like come June. But I do know I can look back at what God has already done, redeeming creation through Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection, and hope for the day when all things are ultimately restored and made new. I can look back on God’s faithfulness and trust, hard as it may be, that He is still faithful now, and that He has good plans for me, even if I’m unsure what they are. And I can practice looking for the good and beautiful things, glimpses of heaven on earth, while also recognizing that the world is broken and things are not yet how they should be. I can rest in living in the “already, but not yet” of God’s plans.
Hannah Saglimbeni, Class 13
Hometown: Lake Grove, NY
University of Virginia Graduate
