Finding the Everyday Adventure
My junior year of college, I sat next to my cousin in a dynamic sociology class full of students of many different backgrounds. Our burly professor with a Santa Claus beard insisted with fervor that we weren't as unique as we all thought we were. My memories are with their limitations, but his lecture went something like this: "Sociology and studying the tendencies of humans reveals many of the life choices you're going to make. Choices that you think are so special could easily be predicted. You think that your significant other is so magical and your soul mate, but you're all predictably likely to marry someone in your same social status, someone who comes from the same kind of socioeconomic class, someone whose life hasn't been that different from yours. You'll probably marry someone who is from a certain (I can't remember the specific statistic)- mile radius from where you live or grew up. You will likely live within a certain-mile radius of your parents. You will likely strive for a job that will provide a similar financial situation to which you were accustomed as a child and not necessarily because it's your dream job or what you feel like has always been your destiny. You will want that white picket fence just like everyone else. And you will have 1.5 children." Much of what he said was truth wrapped up in jest, but my cousin and I looked at each other and knew without saying a word that that wouldn't be us. We didn't want normal lives. We wanted challenges and adventure, not because we thought we were so special but because we didn't believe that God was mediocre. So, if God is ultra-creative, why would serving Him be boring, comfortable, and predictable?
That desire to let God lead my life as an adventure in uncertainty led me to Honduras to seek to serve; to marry someone who doesn't look like me, didn't grow up like me, and who is my polar opposite in personality; and to make the daily sacrifice of being far from my family which weighs heavier with each passing year. Within the Honduran culture and society and even church life, I am not status quo either. I didn't get married until much later in life than is usually acceptable for them. I still don't have children. And, my personality as an introvert is almost more foreign than the color of my skin within this culture. Within church, I am not drawn to seeking out positions in the hierarchy, I don't care about titles or how many appearances I make at how many programs, and I don't think that bigger is necessarily better. I prefer real connection, listening well, smaller groups, hearing God in the quiet, and appreciating my smallness...which is often seen as a lazy, unfaithful way of living. I have made peace and re-made peace with being different and not always being accepted everywhere I go. At times, it has been a delight, and at times, it's seemed a curse. When I first moved to Honduras, I was so dead-set on making myself as Honduran as possible. That's what I thought I was supposed to do in order to better serve. And, it definitely had its rewards. But, I eventually hit the realization that I had lost pieces of myself that I'd really liked, that were integral to my identity, and that I hadn't gained much in being less than authentic. If anything, I'd made myself less known, and therefore, less truly loved. I don't want to be different for the sake of being different, but I am re-discovering the values that make me who I am, things I want to maintain even if they aren't understood or even liked.
I am also discovering that the nature of adventure within the Kingdom of God isn't what I probably first thought. What happens when the missionary or traveler or ex-pat has lived in the foreign country long enough that the novelty has worn off? What happens when life settles into a routine even in the supposedly exotic place? Food still has to be prepared. Houses still have to be cleaned. Children still have to be educated. Bills and taxes still have to be paid. People are still imperfect and still hurt us even in another language. The life we thought we'd escape in exchange for adventure creeps up ever so subtly to convince us that anywhere would be better, more exciting than here. We feel cheated of what we signed up for. What happens when the fruit we thought we'd so easily produce seems totally elusive? What happens when nothing miraculous happens? Non-linear roads, no mountains climbed, no seas crossed. Just meandering dead-ends, jagged cliffs, no other sides, and floating with no paddles. Did God fail us? We know the answer to be no even when we don't feel it that way. What happens when the adventure that God calls us to is making another lunch, folding another load of laundry, and listening to someone else tell us how we're failing them? My reality isn't so different from the reality of someone who lives in my passport country.
The only conclusion I can come to is that adventure is not circumstantial; it's attitudinal. Adventure is defined as, "an unusual, exciting, or daring experience," but the key word is experience. An experience is based on the attitude and the eyes of the one participating, not just the circumstance. We have only to observe a baby learning something we've long known how to do to understand this truth. The sheer joy they find in discovering their feet is often even contagious to those of us who are now accustomed to the pains we feel from standing on ours too long. We can choose wonder or we can accept an attitude of drudgery. Living life as an adventure has less to do with where you are and has everything to do with what you're looking for. When we have the prophetic mindset of looking for the treasure of the long lines at the bank, instead of just getting done our mindless errand, we will begin to find what we seek. This goes beyond basic optimism. This isn't about blind cheer. It's about keeping our eyes peeled for a Person, the Person, in every situation.
In a book my dad used to read to us as kids, Tales of the Kingdom, by David and Karen Mains, the King of the kingdom could appear in any unexpected form at any time. A sighting of the King was cause for contagious joy, and it was like a game the King played with His subjects. Where would He appear next?
An excerpt from that same book rather accurately depicts my struggles of the past couple of years:
It was no use. He would never "sight" the King. Every time someone had whispered, "There's the King!" Hero had only seen a beggar or a woodcutter or a gardener. Never a king. Mercie said this was because he didn't believe in a king. "You have to believe," she always explained, "in order to see."
It is possible to find an every day adventure in the most mundane, but it requires the belief that the Person you're looking for wants to be found, that He's playful, not cruel. When I lose sight of how loved I am, I stop looking for the Person of hope and begin looking for and expecting calamity, disappointment, and pain. Being different and living a life of adventure with God starts with what we believe about Him and His nature. When we believe that He is good even when we're rejected for being different, when we believe that He could be hiding even in the person who is insulting us, and when we trust that He never lets an opportunity to reveal Himself pass us by even in the most monotonous chore or heartbreaking trial, we'll truly begin to sight the King.
Sarah
And so the boy discovered that seek-the-King is a wonderful game. Like all games it must be played with a child's heart, which believes and is always prepared to be surprised, because a King can wear many disguises. -- Tales of the Kingdom, by David and Karen Mains
That desire to let God lead my life as an adventure in uncertainty led me to Honduras to seek to serve; to marry someone who doesn't look like me, didn't grow up like me, and who is my polar opposite in personality; and to make the daily sacrifice of being far from my family which weighs heavier with each passing year. Within the Honduran culture and society and even church life, I am not status quo either. I didn't get married until much later in life than is usually acceptable for them. I still don't have children. And, my personality as an introvert is almost more foreign than the color of my skin within this culture. Within church, I am not drawn to seeking out positions in the hierarchy, I don't care about titles or how many appearances I make at how many programs, and I don't think that bigger is necessarily better. I prefer real connection, listening well, smaller groups, hearing God in the quiet, and appreciating my smallness...which is often seen as a lazy, unfaithful way of living. I have made peace and re-made peace with being different and not always being accepted everywhere I go. At times, it has been a delight, and at times, it's seemed a curse. When I first moved to Honduras, I was so dead-set on making myself as Honduran as possible. That's what I thought I was supposed to do in order to better serve. And, it definitely had its rewards. But, I eventually hit the realization that I had lost pieces of myself that I'd really liked, that were integral to my identity, and that I hadn't gained much in being less than authentic. If anything, I'd made myself less known, and therefore, less truly loved. I don't want to be different for the sake of being different, but I am re-discovering the values that make me who I am, things I want to maintain even if they aren't understood or even liked.
I am also discovering that the nature of adventure within the Kingdom of God isn't what I probably first thought. What happens when the missionary or traveler or ex-pat has lived in the foreign country long enough that the novelty has worn off? What happens when life settles into a routine even in the supposedly exotic place? Food still has to be prepared. Houses still have to be cleaned. Children still have to be educated. Bills and taxes still have to be paid. People are still imperfect and still hurt us even in another language. The life we thought we'd escape in exchange for adventure creeps up ever so subtly to convince us that anywhere would be better, more exciting than here. We feel cheated of what we signed up for. What happens when the fruit we thought we'd so easily produce seems totally elusive? What happens when nothing miraculous happens? Non-linear roads, no mountains climbed, no seas crossed. Just meandering dead-ends, jagged cliffs, no other sides, and floating with no paddles. Did God fail us? We know the answer to be no even when we don't feel it that way. What happens when the adventure that God calls us to is making another lunch, folding another load of laundry, and listening to someone else tell us how we're failing them? My reality isn't so different from the reality of someone who lives in my passport country.
The only conclusion I can come to is that adventure is not circumstantial; it's attitudinal. Adventure is defined as, "an unusual, exciting, or daring experience," but the key word is experience. An experience is based on the attitude and the eyes of the one participating, not just the circumstance. We have only to observe a baby learning something we've long known how to do to understand this truth. The sheer joy they find in discovering their feet is often even contagious to those of us who are now accustomed to the pains we feel from standing on ours too long. We can choose wonder or we can accept an attitude of drudgery. Living life as an adventure has less to do with where you are and has everything to do with what you're looking for. When we have the prophetic mindset of looking for the treasure of the long lines at the bank, instead of just getting done our mindless errand, we will begin to find what we seek. This goes beyond basic optimism. This isn't about blind cheer. It's about keeping our eyes peeled for a Person, the Person, in every situation.
In a book my dad used to read to us as kids, Tales of the Kingdom, by David and Karen Mains, the King of the kingdom could appear in any unexpected form at any time. A sighting of the King was cause for contagious joy, and it was like a game the King played with His subjects. Where would He appear next?
An excerpt from that same book rather accurately depicts my struggles of the past couple of years:
It was no use. He would never "sight" the King. Every time someone had whispered, "There's the King!" Hero had only seen a beggar or a woodcutter or a gardener. Never a king. Mercie said this was because he didn't believe in a king. "You have to believe," she always explained, "in order to see."
It is possible to find an every day adventure in the most mundane, but it requires the belief that the Person you're looking for wants to be found, that He's playful, not cruel. When I lose sight of how loved I am, I stop looking for the Person of hope and begin looking for and expecting calamity, disappointment, and pain. Being different and living a life of adventure with God starts with what we believe about Him and His nature. When we believe that He is good even when we're rejected for being different, when we believe that He could be hiding even in the person who is insulting us, and when we trust that He never lets an opportunity to reveal Himself pass us by even in the most monotonous chore or heartbreaking trial, we'll truly begin to sight the King.
Sarah
And so the boy discovered that seek-the-King is a wonderful game. Like all games it must be played with a child's heart, which believes and is always prepared to be surprised, because a King can wear many disguises. -- Tales of the Kingdom, by David and Karen Mains
Comments
Post a Comment