I read a lot. My wife often gets annoyed with me for having 3-4 different books that I’m perusing at any given moment, sitting on the end table, on the couch, etc. My career entails vast amounts of time sitting on airplanes, so that provides ample opportunity as well. My tastes vary – at any given time I can be in the middle of a mind candy novel, some current event book or magazine, an inspirational tome, and always a history book of some sort.
Back in my college days, I would frequently run across I was reading that would produce an epiphany – a “light bulb” moment where suddenly a whole series of thoughts and concepts would fall into place. The best example is when I was given a copy of Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. I had been resisting Christianity, resisting Christ for years, but Lewis’ small work managed to systematically break down that resistance and to deal a severe blow to my pride of intellectualism at the same time.
But I’ve aged. The college years are 25-30 years ago. Over time, sheer information overload and cynicism has taken me to a place where I’m usually thinking “there’s nothing new under the sun”. Oh, I still pick up a lot of factual information, still seek affirmations of my world view, but the searing light of revelatory insight comes much less frequently. Until a couple of months ago.
I was having coffee with a good friend, Lance. Lance was the young man that led our team on the trip to Uganda last summer, and I’ve found him to be wise beyond his years so I enjoy the opportunity to chat with him. He has been an enormous help in my efforts around Seeing Is Believing, and… well… I just like the young man a lot. So Lance shows up at Starbucks and hands me a book. “A Million Miles In A Thousand Years” by Donald Miller. He asked if I’d heard of it, and frankly, I hadn’t. Lance said that he found it to be quite profound, very impacting, and he had picked up several copies to give to friends.
I’m frequently given books by various people. “You’ll really like this!” or “This will change your life!” are the usual comments that accompany the gift. Depending on who gives it to me, I’ll eventually at least pick it up. Sometimes I’ll even read it. The thing about books, however, is that quite often something that is extremely impacting to one person elicits “Meh.” responses from another. I tend to give more credence to the recommendations of those who know me well than I do to those who only know the surface. While I think highly of Lance, I wasn’t too sure of how well he knew me. So the book sat on my desk at home for a few weeks. Finally, one weekend I found myself rather bored with the latest history book I was reading and figured I’d at least browse a bit of A Million Miles.
The further I got into it, the more fascinated I became. The general theme of the book, if I can put my own stamp on it, is “life as a story”. Everyone’s life is a story. But is my life a fascinating story or is it boring? Would it enthrall a reader or is it a cure for insomnia? Perhaps most importantly, what will God think of my story when I finally have the chance to sit down and discuss it with him. I finished the book up on my trip out to Eastern Canada that week, and promptly read it again on the trip back home 4 days later.
The life as a story analogy is very common. I’ve heard entertainers use it, I’ve heard pastors use it. What I found fascinating about AMM, however, was that Miller was actually working on a screenplay based on his previous book – Blue Like Jazz. And he began to question the plot line. What conflicts had his character overcome – the bigger the conflict, the more exciting the climax.
And I may be putting thoughts into his words, but it seemed that he genuinely began to wonder if his story was finished. Does a person’s story ever have to end, up to the time of their death? Personally I found that concept to be a new epiphany – is my story finished? When I sit down to have a conversation with God someday, is He going to tell me that my life was well lived, an exciting story? Or is he going to tell me it was snoozer, that my deeds really had not had an impact for good? What are the conflicts that I’ve overcome? Did I overcome them bravely, show perseverance, or did I simply go to the corner and cower?
Since I returned from Uganda, I’ve told the story of the trip many times. If I’m honest with myself, I often tell it for the shock value – a lot of people seem to think that I’m not what they picture when they think of someone who would go to Uganda on a mission trip. If you’ve read any of my older posts on this blog, you’ll know that I didn’t think I was either. So I suppose one of the big conflicts that I had to overcome was my resistance to making a trip like that. No, let’s be honest. My FEAR of making a trip like that. I was afraid of so many things. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of people who are different than me. I was afraid of getting sick or injured. But mostly I was afraid of what it would do to me – that maybe I’d find out that it was something valuable.
I went to Uganda in a mind set of “Okay Lord. You won this battle and have me on the plane. Let’s get this over with so I can go back to my pampered life.” But somewhere in that country – in Kampala, in Gulu, I misplaced a piece of my heart. And I wasn’t able to find it before we left. So I know that I have to go back to look for it, for me to be whole again.
Now the one thing that I have to keep telling myself is that I’ve had mountaintop experiences before. I remember going to a Promise Keepers event in Eugene, I think it was in 96 or 97. Standing with 50,000 other men praising God is definitely a “WOW!” event. And I happened to be in the Washington DC area when Promise Keepers had their big national event in 97, so I went to that as well. And I was disappointed. Honestly. It just wasn’t the same. So I’m skeptical about the desire to re-live an event. But my trip to Africa was different. When I came home I wasn’t all charged up, but I was changed. I knew that I had to make a return trip to a place that I had fought so ferociously going to in the first place.
As I’ve told anyone who would listen, however, before I can go back, I have to “earn” the right. Simply returning home, reveling in the memories of that trip and then planning to return would relegate the entire experience to the mountaintop heap. It would ring very hollow. What do I mean by earning the right? Well, when I was over there I witnessed needs that exceeded my worst fears. My mind and heart went into what seemed like an endless reset loop – everywhere I looked I saw needs. But I knew that I had to do something. The usual American response to problems is to throw money at them, and I suppose on the surface that appears to be what Seeing Is Believing is doing, but I’m quite comfortable that we’ve connected with a solid administrative organization that is ensuring the funds are spent properly.
My work level has held me back from putting as much effort into SIB as I would like, but I’m trying to rest in the comfort that it is all in God’s hands anyway.
But the entire experience – from the initial internal battle about going, through the trip and the organization of SIB has taught me something else about my story. I’ve come to the realization that I tend to spend entirely too much time dwelling on my own story. My “story” needs to focus outward. My relationships with others – with God, my family, my friends, the people I work with, and my brothers and sisters in Africa – are what makes my story rich and interesting.
At least in my mind.
