Adventure

Over the almost three years since we came to Mississippi, I have multiple times found myself asking, "what am I doing in Mississippi?"  The question rings familiar, because it is so similar to "what am I doing in West Virginia?", which I also asked myself many times.  Other similar questions have been, "what am I doing working a second job at Home Depot?" and "what am I doing working with honey bees/ trout?  My degree is in botany!" 

So there's a theme here, which seems to be that my life happens in ways I hadn't planned and did not expect.  And it has not been easy, nor has it gotten easier over time as I thought it would.  Certainly, it hasn't been boring, and I have not had time to get really comfortable anywhere in the last dozen and a half years.  Longer, really.

Recently, when I asked the aforementioned question of myself and the sky, a word drifted down to light on my mind.

 Adventure.  But adventures are supposed to be fun, not hard and painful and grueling!  Nevertheless the idea wouldn't blow away, and I wondered why a homebody like myself, with aspirations of settling into a comfortable life, would get caught up in an adventure, much like Bilbo did in The Hobbit.  As he protested, "adventures make you late for dinner!"  and I had been so very late for the proverbial dinner, so very many times.

Then I recalled a spiritual fad I got caught up in about the time my son was born, in which we men at church read the book Wild at Heart by John Eldridge, which described God's call on the author to step out into adventure, and all the fun and wonder he experienced.  Other men I knew jumped on board and started doing fun stuff.  I wanted to do the same, but most of these "adventures" involved travel and other expensive things.  I felt left behind, left out, and I asked God for my own adventure.  He didn't say anything at the time, and I took that as a "no".

Don't ever interpret God's silence.  Wait for Him.  Oh, and as the proverb goes, be careful what you ask for.

Within two years, I lost my job and couldn't find anything else in my area.  I got desperate.  Then a self-described prophet came to our church for a conference.  He said a lot of interesting things, but when he said, "someone needs to get out of the fishbowl.  Leave the circle-racetrack and head north!" my wife and I prayerfully agreed he -- God, actually -- was talking to us.

A few months later, we found ourselves in North Carolina, where I landed a job working with honey bees, despite my degree in Plant biology.  It was tough adjusting to a new place, far from friends and family, and we struggled financially and personally.  But we had prayed continuously, and God had sent us what we believed were confirmations that we were in His will.

Five years later when I took the job in West Virginia, it was with the hope that we would leave the struggles behind, but they followed us, as they have to Mississippi.  In North Carolina we thought we would settle down. Likewise in West Virginia.  Now we are not sure what will happen.

When I read a book, however closely I identify with the characters, their struggles seem remote and romantic or even heroic.  Their (usually fictional) discomfort, pain, and even anguish is not real to me.  Living out the journey myself brings home what real adventure is: yes, there are moments of fun and good stories to tell, but much hard work and striving.  As Samwise put it in The Lord of the Rings:

“It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad has happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. I know now folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something....”

Adventure?  Okay, but then to what purpose?  Shouldn't an adventure have a goal?  Bilbo set out for dragon's gold; Frodo, to destroy the One Ring.  Why, then, am I journeying to this undiscovered country, through hardship and weariness? I asked Him.

To live.  "I come that they may have life, and that more abundantly." John 10:10.  That mystery called abundant life is my purpose, and I suppose, my journey.  And what could be more abundant for the one God calls beloved than to live (increasingly) in Him who holds all things in His hand?

This was a revelation that at once baffled me and brought me near to tears.  To think that He would have such a plan for me is overwhelming.  But He was not done.  He showed me that this journey -- this adventure -- is also a part of my sanctification, and that sanctification is more than just suffering.  I must trust Him through this.  Live it out.

Again, okay.  I understand a bit better the path I have trod and its purpose, but what about the future?  What do I do next? 

Keep going.  You have never been alone, and He will not abandon you.  "He will never leave you, nor forsake you."  Deuteronomy 31:6.  Unlike Gandalf, who would leave his companions at what seemed the most inopportune times, God is right there.  Always. 

And as for my anxiety about what this "adventure" holds around the next bend or beyond the looming mountain, He gave me this scripture: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own."  Matthew 6:34.

Fine.  Don't worry about tomorrow.  I can't do a whole lot about it anyway, and it's true I have enough on my plate dealing with this day.  Finally, He reminded me of a scripture He gave me many years ago and has made almost a mantra in my life:  "Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things wil be added unto you." Matthew 6:33

Looking back on my journey so far, I have rarely (or never) had everything I wanted, but He has always given me what I need, regardless of my circumstances.  This scripture is like a compass for me, to prevent me getting turned around.  I see that now, but why couldn't He tell me all this before?

The answer:  you had to travel this far to see so well.  As you go on, you will see and understand better.

So, like a hiker journeying up into higher country, I reached a grassy knoll where I could look back and see my path: the trail-head almost lost in the hazy distance, and the many forests, brambles, rock slides and mires it has led through.  I cannot see what is ahead, but I know it will continue, through difficult places but always upward until I finally reach that shining city, where the One who walked with me each step will welcome me into His rest.