“Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” Genesis 12:1
Never mind that this is a true story, it still unfolds as one that should start with “Once Upon a Time”. The key word in this opening line is: “will”.
The audacious instruction from God is for Abram to leave everything that he has ever known and loved, everything for which all the neighbors and family hold him in high esteem and go to some unknown and even unidentified somewhere.
It all sort of sounds like Dorothy’s somewhere over the rainbow where she hopes lemon drops and rainbows await her. In Dorothy’s case, she didn’t go willingly, but rather, a great storm carried her far away from her beloved home and she was faced with many dangers to find her way back home.
In many ways, that’s a summation of all the best lives ever lived. We’re pushed from the nest of our comfort when we’re not yet sure how to fly. We hit the hard ground of life without the fulfillment of our expectations and must live through hell on earth to find our way home.
Only what I am referring to is not a geographical location. It is, instead, our true nature. Our authentic selves. The name by which God created, knows, and calls us by.
This is a life-long journey.
For our parents, siblings, senile Uncle Joe, teachers, career counselors, the local church we attend, financial advisers, our culture, and the world at large all tell us their version of who we are—or ought to strive to be. And, in that mélange of heavy-metal expectations, we forget. Forget God’s name and dream of us.
Until Something finally gets our attention enough for us to put our foot on the path of our personal odyssey of seeking our true Home. What I call the Home of Me.
I had such an awakening a number of years ago. I was in California to lead a retreat I’d titled, Our Father’s Dream. A woman had been gracious enough to host me in her guest house on the back end of a beautiful piece of property she owned. It was a long stretch from her house—thus providing me with ample privacy.
The night before the retreat was to begin, I wandered out for a stroll just before sunset. I hiked through scratchy patches of tall grass until I came upon a large tree at the top of a hill. There I found an old aluminum-framed camp chair strung with shredded nylon. It obviously had not been used in many years.
I untangled it from the weeds climbing the large tree and carefully opened it, testing for soundness along the way. I assessed it to be strong enough.
The hot California sun blistered the hillside as it sank slowly behind much higher hills across an expansive valley. Cicadas chirped on my right and were immediately answered by others on my left.
It seemed their chatter opened my mind in ways I had not experienced before, and I began to pray. Images flooded my mind.
The images were of God as a Hobo, complete with knapsack on a stick and a pack of cigarettes rolled up under his sleeve. All he said was, “Well, come on. We got a journey to get-a-going. It’s an adventure!”
This had been a particularly painful season in my life, and I’d not felt life’s energy in a long while. I was going through the motions of keeping commitments, but without much passion. Suddenly I was filled with energy—excitement even.
I immediately went back to the guesthouse and drew (clearly, I’m no artist) the image of my hobo-like-God that appeared to me as best as I could, and I have saved it all these many years.
I am fairly certain that had God told me of all the betrayals I would both experience and commit, all the pain and losses I would feel, all the fears I would have to face, all the many days of confusions that would nearly slay me dead as roadkill, I never would have picked up my own knapsack and follow Him.
Thankfully, He uttered not a word of what He would lead me through or the land to which I was to go. Yet leading me He is. Leading is the key word here, for I am still on the great adventure with Gobo and He with me.
I’ve never seen what exactly is in His knapsack, but it must be some pretty powerful stuff for it has sustained me all the while.
Love, your sister along the journey,k
Author: Passport through Darkness
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