“Life is a gift and the Giver is good.”*
A s any good campfire will do, there was endless staring into the flame, which sparked reflection on what had just zoomed by the past three months, and with it, a warmth of gratitude and videotape replays of the highlights of a simply good life in the everyday of a New England summer.
Often accompanying flame-staring is a round of storytelling, and of thinking out loud, and of sharing encouraging milestones that have taken place along the Journey. And in the midst of all, one comment in passing around a campfire can jump up and awaken something within—something that you hadn’t been able to put into words until now. Amidst the wisps of smoke, and marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate chunks, there was this: “I think God likes to blur the lines that we tend to draw between the secular and the sacred—He’s everywhere in the everyday, if we would only look.”
And with that, a whole bunch of what seemed like routine summer life made more sense than ever…
...In my office is a copy of one of the most enjoyable photo opportunities of all time. It happened this summer, on a zero-visibility, windblown mountaintop—the highest peak in all of New England. Our team of volunteers emerged from the warmth and comfort of lunch in the lodge, ready to head back into the elements. And with no prompting, like lemmings, each one followed the one in front of them out into the very teeth of it all—not to hide behind some rock formation for protection but to press on to the highest point on the highest mountain as though conquering Mt. Everest. “Group photo!” someone yelled, and without any direction, they all gathered around the marker with upraised fists and wind-blown faces filled with joy, even though none of us could stand steadily against the force of the gales.
During the three-hour drive home, I didn’t think anything could top that. Until, God invaded the car and I saw a greater glimpse. Because looking back on the day, what was even more inspiring and instructive for the Journey was observing the young men and women who were leading us in our task: to uproot small invasive species that were somehow crowding out rare, native summit species (who knew?) so that their unique beauty and goodness would win the day. To us, it was just a weed. To them, it was a passion for stewardship for creation, even if they didn’t realize who the Creator of it all was. They were passionate about the mission while we were there, likely just as passionate when other volunteer groups took their turn, and most likely, were passionate even when no one else was looking. What's with that?
Along with my friends who passionately braved the forces against them to reach their goal, to conquer when it would have been easy to quit, so too did these park rangers inspire next steps for the Journey by helping shake the dust off of complacency and of Christianese-speak that so easily settles in. They rekindled a God-given desire to bust outside of the Sunday morning religious box and into passionately living this way: “Whatever you do [no matter what it is] in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus [and in dependence on Him], giving thanks to God the Father through Him.”—Colossians 3:17, Amplified
"Ordinary shines and glows
Fueled with Your intentions
You don't see the lines we draw
Between secular and sacred"*
I saw it again, this Colossians clarion call, a few weeks later while in an old mill that served as equipment and supplies storage headquarters for a group of citizens who daily face challenges that I couldn’t imagine facing well for one hour. I saw it in the organizer, Janet, the small woman dripping with sweat but with endless energy and joy and laughter, with a gift for seeing what needed to be done and how to best achieve the task. Passionate not because it was work that needed to be done, but because of who she knew would benefit, bringing smiles and hope to lives short on both. In the midst of it all, I thought it was all simply good people doing good things. Afterwards, while sorting through photos and seeing Janet’s passion glowing in many of them, God invaded my desktop, and there was an overwhelming sense that more than a volunteer effort, Church had happened but not in a church —just as perhaps He has meant it to be all along…
"Teach me that it all belongs
That everything is sacred
I eat the bread and drink the wine
But help me love my neighbor"*
And just in case I hadn’t gotten it yet, on another day this summer, there was an exhibit of art by craftspeople of every kind that I was dutifully photographing while on assignment. And that is all, or so I thought. Until as I browsed from tent to tent, I noticed my jaw dropping further down. At one point, there was the surprise of chills down my spine while viewing spectacular black and white photography of the very best the Creator has ever created. And then, the most shocking: that feeling of moist eyes welling up while staring at landscape etchings so breathtaking, it seemed as though a piece of Heaven itself had ripped through the tent and landed at my feet. "How can this be? What is going on? This is neither church nor church-y people. And why such passion welling up deep inside?" The only explanation was that this was all pointing me to that Colossians clarion call again, and to remember to keep stirring passions for the creative juices within... and more than that, I must be seeing and feeling what God had declared at the Very Beginning: “God spoke: ‘Let us make human beings in our image, make them reflecting our nature’…”—Genesis 1:26, Message
"Oh, Heaven is upside down
Oh, it can be here and now
Oh, seeing it all around
That everything is sacred"*
Everything, Lord? While sitting around that campfire, the awakening within seemed to be shouting: “Much more than you've ever imagined! Now go and live likewise.”...
Oh show me how to hold this life
'Cause I don't wanna waste it
No I don't wanna waste it.*
* "Everything Is Sacred," by Jonathan Jay and Pat Barrett © Capitol Christian Music Group
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