Off road, into adventure

Whoa. Something happened. I don’t know what, but I do know when. A couple of weeks ago I had this dream. I dreamt I found a field. I left the road I was on, and turned into this field. I was excited — because I knew that somewhere in this particular field, there was treasure. All I had to do was dig in the right spot, and I would find it.

The shift happened. This is how a wanderer turned into an adventurer. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe I experienced an epiphany of sorts. Maybe just a change in perception. But at a fundamental level, something shifted. Something changed. And possibility, although always out there, came within reach. Amazing!

Since about age 18, I have known myself to be in the wilderness, wandering for almost as long as Moses, feeling every bit as clueless as the lost tribes of Israel as they looked for their promised land. “What kind of season is this, Lord?” I wondered. I wandered. And wandered some more. I had been out there so long I thought I might as well apply for a permanent address.

The lesson might be about understanding where the kingdom lies: is it without, or, within? The kingdom of God lies all around us. So obvious and yet so not. With unmatched, gentle humor, I think God is often hiding things from us in plain sight.

The message to me is: Go on! Just go in. Sure, it takes courage. The reverse of the same kind of courage that called Peter to step out over the gunwhale of all that was familiar to him and start that slip-sliding water walk to the One he loved.

Step out, or, go in…just DO something, for God’s sake! And, for our own sake. Because in the searching comes the finding. In the knocking comes the answering. And the power lies in the process of full engagement. As long as I remain living only in my head, my life is on cruise control — zipping along, safely encased in my mind, I am totally removed from any meaningful engagement in the landscape of my life. How sad and how sterile.

The frightened steward in Matthew’s telling of the talents parable took his talent and buried it in his own backyard. I think that jar of his probably held three cups of wildflower seed, which, had it been scattered over the fertile soil, might have yielded a yard of glory and a riot of delight.

My field is the treasure. I just pray that the soil is good.

Richard Rumble
Communications Director