I knew the names of Bertrand Piccard and Brian Jones but I couldn't
remember when and where I had heard them until I googled them and reaquainted
myself of their notarity. It was March
of 1999 when they 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.
In rereading the story of the successful passage of the Breitling Orbiter
III, I'm reminded of the trophies packed away in boxes, in a storage unit,
which I have rented much to long and must dispose of, and the embarassing moments I can't quit
remember fully of being crowned with applauses, yet still, at my age, celebrating in my most private moments
of reflection—a story that seems to begin at Chateau d'Oex and ends in
Egypt. But this ballon trip, like most
of my memorable achievements along the road of personal development, was not
quite the linear move from start to finish I had 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 my 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 my 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 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.What little adventure might I experience at turning 70 years of earthly age? "What about a hot air ballon ride?," I ask myself.
