At My Age......On Easy Street

The Bible rings with some serious stories of faith, and the men and women involved become examples to me as I have reached for faith all these many years. I admire with reverence the way that these men and women of old dealt with difficult odds and how God accomplished incredible things through them. But what happens in my live when I am given the chance to fight the same fight? Do I rise to the challenge?

I'm afraid that in these later day chapters I often live with a glaring contradiction. I want to know God more than ever before. I want God to be more real and I want life to have a deeper meaning than ever before. And yet I want all this without any serious cost or effort.  Am I in an entitlement mind set?  Haven't I  paid my dues over the years?
  
I tend to assume that life is best when the waters are still—that life is best during those times when everything "makes sense." "This is how it's supposed to be," I tell myself. But just as soon as I do, the water around me gets rough, my boat is rocked and I don’t even have one, and I am back in another struggle of one kind or another. As my Dad would ask, What in the world is going on and what’s it coming too? Why doesn't God just allow me to stay comfortable and content in my elder years? Are the bad times merely distortions of the way life should be? Should the road of faith be an easy one?

Then, I consider some key figures in the Bible and what they went through: Abraham was asked to give up his own son, the prize of his life, and he was willing to do it. Moses could have stayed in Egypt and enjoyed the pleasures of royalty, but instead he led the people of Israel through years of struggle. Because of his faith, the prophet Daniel defied a king, risking death in a lion's den. The three young men were willing to go into the burning furnace because of their faith, whether God rescued them or not. Before he was king, David patiently endured the rage of Saul because he believed God. Esther courageously risked her life to go before the king and beg for his mercy with the strength of these marvelous words: "If I perish, I perish."

It was in the toughest acts of faith that these men and women came the closest to God and found life's deepest meaning. It was not the provision of comfort or happiness that led them to a deeper knowledge of God—it was often the lack of it. Is it possible that a life where everything stays calm and unchallenged isn't what I really need? Does peace mean as much if I never experience calamity? Does my heart ring with gratitude if I‘m never in want? Does happiness bring a brilliant bald headed smile if I never taste sadness?

From this day forward I commit to not idealizing an easy life, so that I do not find, at the end, that life becomes hollow. The writer of Hebrews has a much better challenge: "Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us" (Hebrews 12:1). The one I follow, the author and perfecter of my faith, lived a life of similar proportions, who for the joy set out before him endured the Cross, scorning its shame. He now sits at the right hand of the throne of God, beckoning me onward, even through times of struggle.

My Picture: Struggling for The Victory

On March 1, 1999, Bertrand Piccard and Brian Jones stepped into the gondola of a hot air balloon and lifted off from the Swiss alpine village of Chateau d'Oex.  Nineteen days, 21 hours, and 55 minutes later, traveling 28,431 miles, they landed in the Egyptian desert.  Their journey successfully marked the first nonstop flight around the world in a balloon, earning them the distinction of a world record, a book deal, and a million dollars from the sponsoring corporation.  Their victory photograph now rests in the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum beside the "Breitling Orbiter III" itself.      

Like the trophies packed away in boxes, somewhere in a storage unit and the moments I can't quit remember fully of being crowned with applauses, the successful passage of the Breitling Orbiter III is a story, when I'm reminded of it, I somewhat celebrate—a story that seems to begin at Chateau d'Oex and ends in Egypt.  But this trip, like most of my memorable achievements along the road of human development, was not quite the linear move from start to finish I  imagined it to be.  In fact, the journey that would end with a world record actually had three hopeful starting points and two frustrated finishes.   

I am thinking that the often miry course of human history is similar.  I have long understood the need for will and volition in the healing process of my personal history.  There is a reason Jesus seems also to insult the paralytic by the pool in John chapter 5 with the basic question of desire; I indeed must first want to be well.  But thinking of this call for help as being inherently present within the human developmental process has only recently entered my perspective.  What if every pang of trust or mistrust, every cry for autonomy or cry of shame, was the call of the spirit to that which is beyond it?  What if my cries over mistrust or longings for trust exist explicitly because I know there is one who is trustworthy?

 Psychology and theology professor James Loder, in his book: The Logic of the Spirit  offers a perspective well posed: "It is evident that human development is not the answer to anything of ultimate significance.  Every answer it does provide only pushes the issue deeper, back to the ultimate question, 'What is a lifetime?' and 'Why do I live it?'" 

Such are the questions I am wrestling with in the twists and turns, stops and failures through this last couple of chapters of journey called life.  How incredibly helpful to know there is a reason.  What if God is not merely the God who comes near in the midst of the pain of adolescence or the cries of an adult for understanding, but is the very creator of the spirit that leads me to crisis and guides me through certain pains?  What if it is not merely, as a one Ben Campbell Johnson, developmental psychologist writes: the "capacities of the human psyche" that "make spirituality possible", but it is the Spirit of God who makes the human psyche capable of knowing God?  "You did not choose me," said Jesus, "but I chose you" (John 15:16).

 As its name suggests, the success of the Breitling Orbiter III was built upon two previous attempts.  The original Breitling Orbiter launched in January of 1997.  Only a few hours after take off, the balloon was forced to land when the crew was overcome by kerosene fumes from a leaking valve.  One year later, the Breitling Orbiter II stayed in the air 9 days longer than its counterpart, managing to navigate from Switzerland to Burma.  To the dismay of all, their flight was cut short when they were refused permission to use the airspace over China.  Yet from the finish line, there is little doubt that these set backs contributed to the development of the system and strategy that would allow Piccard and Jones to finally pilot their balloon across the Pacific.

Well, I so want these later years of life to demonstrate that; whether my days are marked by victory or by crisis, by progress or the call to turn around and try again, the Spirit goes with me, reinforcing that God has been there all along.  To discover that there is a face inherently present behind many of the failures I long to forget, a Spirit within the crushed and wounded scenes I try my best to put behind me, and a voice that speaks over and above the cries that have indelibly marked my journey, is to experience the restorative hope of the creator who intended me to discover Him all along.  The words of the psalmist describe waking to this knowledge:  "It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them" (Psalm 44:3). My days are marked with the intention of One who loves me.  My winding journey is a means to the face of God.