What am I doing?

I finally had time to think as I sat down in the navy blue seat of the airplane. It hardly seemed real. I pushed my duffle bag under the seat in front of me. Its contents were a rolled up sleeping bag, two pairs of shorts, a few t-shirts, a pair of boxers, some toiletries, and an iPhone charger. Even this was over-packing as my return flight was hardly a day after I would land.

The thought had come to me a couple nights before, but I had ignored it due to its absurdity. The idea was simple, I would fly to California, spend time with some friends at 21 Project and fly back. However, it was Tuesday night, and I would have to be back home on Saturday for my brother’s bachelor party. Not to mention, I didn’t really have the money for all this. Yet, for some reason, I spent the greater part of the next morning looking for flights, consistently reminding myself that it would be irrational for me to go. Flights to LAX were far too expensive, but surprisingly, the smaller and more convenient airport at Long Beach was more affordable. Afraid of what I might actually do, I called a friend to talk me out of it. The conversation ended with a resolution that it would make much more sense for me to go in a couple weeks. This would give me time to figure out the details of my trip, and I would still catch the end of 21 Project. The flight I was thinking of taking left in under two hours, so I decided it wouldn’t happen. I breathed a sigh of relief and hung up. A weight was lifted off my shoulders, but something still nagged at me, “there’s another flight tomorrow morning.” I spent the rest of the day trying to ignore it. But finally, to silence the urging of my spirit, I made an ultimatum: I would send a message to a friend in California. If I heard back by 3 a.m. and could figure out the details than I would take the 6 am flight. I could then take a redeye Friday night and be home Saturday morning, allowing me to be there for the greater part of two days. I went to bed, and woke up briefly at 3 to see no response. Another sigh of relief and I went back to sleep.

I woke up by 7, and after a shower, sat down to casually read a book. As I read, I came across a story where God had put a phrase on someone’s mind. Instantly a phrase came into my head: “You tried to build a bridge, when I asked you to fly across.” It seemed strange, yet as I thought for second I knew exactly what it referred to. I had tried to figure out the details of my trip before going, when God had asked me to go without having understanding. I put the book down and tried to clear my head. As I did, I caught a glimpse of my foot. I could see the scar on my skin and was reminded of what had happened a month before.

(Flashback)

I was finishing up my time in Hawaii and had gone for a run down to the beach. Like most beaches in the area, there was no sand, just huge waves crashing onto the lava rock. I had intended on going for a swim out to a nearby cove, but it seemed risky. Getting from the shore into the open water might require me to get smashed by the waves while still in very shallow water. It took a moment of hyping myself up, but soon I pulled off the maneuver. As I started to swim I was struck with intense fear. My heart pounded and I gasped for air. Swimming has always been easy for me, but this fear was crippling. An unexpected wave hit me, and I choked on a mouthful of salt water. “Don’t let fear dictate your decisions” I said to myself. It was a lesson I had been learning, but I was finding it difficult to carry out. I swam back and climbed onto the rocks. Breathing heavily, I listened for God’s voice. I felt him inviting me back out. A zeal rose in my heart and again I jumped in. The whole time, fear was strongly gripping me. I recognized its irrationality, but it still remained. “I’m more likely to die from a coconut than a shark!” I reminded myself. The statistic failed to comfort me. I paddled my way to the cove and then came back. I arrived at the shore, feeling triumphant, and relieved at my safety. I began to walk along the wet rock when I lost my footing. I fell backwards, cutting my back and arm, and gashing the top of my foot. As I washed the blood off in the ocean water I began to think. “We fear not having control. I was afraid of the ocean, because in the ocean I knew I didn’t have control, but it’s no more dangerous than the shore. The control I feel on the shore is actually deceptive.”

(End of Flashback)

I thought back to this as I sat on the plane, and the experience seemed to parallel this one. I had stepped out into the unknown, where I didn’t have control and nothing was figured out. I didn’t have a plan for California. I didn’t know where I would sleep or if I’d have anything to do when I got there; I didn’t even have a ride from the airport. I could potentially get to the airport, sit there for a day, and then hop on my return flight home. I felt the same fear that I had felt in the waves. A flight attendant walked by and passed out “Europe’s favorite cookie with coffee.” I hadn’t eaten breakfast, but the knots in my stomach took away my appetite. I put the cookie into the pocket of my duffle bag, adding to its meager contents.

Buying the ticket was the hardest part. Remembering my scar story made me realize that I had operated out of fear. And though I had no understanding of what might happen, I knew I shouldn’t need everything figured out before I follow God. I had begun to apologize to Him, when he stopped me to say, with a hint of laughter in his voice, “Okay, but don’t just apologize, repent. If you’re going to go, go now.” I was taken back. Surely it was too late to go now! It was 8 a.m. There was no way it would be worth it. “I can’t do it!” I replied. “Yeah, you can. And you can start by packing your bags.” I started packing, hardly able to comprehend what I was about to do. After I finished, I opened my laptop again. Ticket prices hadn’t increased, and there was a flight at 11am that would arrive at 6pm. This would give me 25 hours until my return flight. I watched myself buy the ticket, and with a glazed look of disbelief I hurried down stairs. “Can I have a ride to the airport?” I asked my roommate. His confusion was apparent. I’m sure mine was too. I briefly explained in the car, and before long I was getting my boarding passes. Except… I had somehow purchased them for the wrong day. “You can still turn back” fear whispered in my ear. You told me to go, God. If you want me to turn back, feel free, but you’re going to have to do better than that. I talked with the agent at the counter, and after much difficulty, switched the flight and was going through security at 10:30. I made it to my gate, and got onto the plane. That’s when it hit me, What are you doing?

The question persisted throughout the three flights. What if I heard God wrong? What if I’m being irresponsible? What if God is going to punish me for my lack of wisdom? I had to consistently remind myself of God’s character to silence the questioning. On the last flight, with a serious need to verbally process, I said to the lady sitting next to me. “Do you ever have a time when know you have to do something, but you don’t know why?” This sparked a lengthy conversation, where I described to her what had happened. She seemed to marvel at my recklessness. As we descended into the Long Beach area, I asked a simple question of where she was going… followed by how she was getting there… followed by a side comment about how I didn’t have a ride from the airport. Next thing I know, we’re getting picked up by her driver. After getting dropped off at her house, she paid the driver to bring me to my location. I sat in the back seat, riding down the Pacific Coast Highway and staring at the sun setting over the ocean. I was amazed that I had even made it this far.

We arrived, and I was dropped off, hoping that the address shown online was right. I walked into the building. There were some people inside, but I didn’t recognize any of them. I stepped out and made a phone call to a friend and got redirected a few blocks down. I saw a group of young adults outside a running car, and from one of them I heard the phrase “that’s a blessing” in its all too familiar tone. I knew I was in the right place. I introduced myself, and for the next few hours was greeted by huge hugs, bright smiles, and wide eyes, as old friends asked “What are you doing here!?” I found it hard to answer as this was the same question I kept asking myself.

To keep the story short let me just say that some bad weather in Phoenix on my return flight led to me spending 10 hours in PHX, causing me to miss my brother’s bachelor party (sorry Charlie!), which turned me around and changed the 25 hour stay in California to one lasting six days. During that time I was able to hang out with amazing people, get reconnected with old friends, and make tons of new ones. I played hours of volleyball on Huntington Beach, and cooled off in the refreshing waves of the Pacific. I ate Acai bowls and played corn hole. I stayed up late getting to know people, and I used fifteen different types of toothpaste because I had forgotten mine. I dreamed and planned with other circuit riders and missionaries about changing the world and our future adventures. It was honestly one of the best times of my life, and I left astounded by the faithfulness of God.

At one point, I was hanging out in Brian Brennt’s garage with about 30 others for this glorious time of inspiration. After it had ended and as Brian passed between conversations he threw his arm around me, and he said casually, yet quite prophetically, “You broke your boxes and your life won’t be boring anymore.” I’ve never been introduced to him, and I doubt he knew my story, but I sincerely believe those words. That week ripped some fear out of me, some thought that the known is safer than the unknown, some lie that obedience is limited to understanding, some need for control that only held me back from the abundant life that is waiting. I come away agreeing with what Dan Baumann always says: “I would rather live my life leaning forward on what I think God said, than leaning backwards, afraid that I heard him wrong.”

One last thought

You know, it’s funny. People kept asking me, “why do you think God sent you hear? What lesson did you learn?” And though there were many amazing things that happened while being there and many divine appointments occurred, and though I’ve clearly pulled a few lessons from it, I’m learning that not everything is about learning a lesson. Obedience is not about learning a lesson as much as it’s about relationship. Maybe God invited me on this wild time with him, simply because he wanted to have a wild time with me. Intimacy for the sake of intimacy is always worth it. At the end of the day, God wants to be with us more than he wants to teach us a lesson.

P.S. In case you’re judging me for going six days on two pairs of boxers… what I did was wash one pair by hand in the shower, and then let it dry all day. The next day that would be my clean pair, and I would wash the dirty pair in the shower. #thingsyoulearnatywam