Let the Games Begin

After Dan left tonight, I sat on the swing outside for awhile; looked at the stars, tried to place everything in perspective, you know. The usual stuff you do when you’re embarking on a big, life-changing adventure as a not even twenty-something. My eyes were kind of red and puffy and I didn’t want to field any questions from my parents, so I was also kind of waiting out the swelling but that’s not nearly as glamorous. Nothing huge hit me though, nothing huge came falling from the sky into my open chest to help me achieve nirvana or epiphany or Freudian insight into myself or my coming future. But all the same, a soft peace came upon me. Like the wet washcloth we throw over my nephew’s eyes in play, that peace just kind of cooled my stirred-up spirit with a plush, wet weight. Seconds afterward I was able to go inside and say “Well, crap, my bad; I forgot to send him home with the Dr. Pepper.”

They always tell us to spiritually prepare for these sorts of things; training for this summer is no different. The thing is, though, I’ve never really known what to do when asked that. I’ve even asked others to do that when I was in leadership, but I question now whether or not I knew what I was asking for or whether I just felt like asking for it was part of my job description. I mean, there’s no shortcuts to God in Christianity, right? We don’t get a name to invoke or an animal to sacrifice or chicken bones to scatter to “get prepared.” All we’ve got is prayer, Bible study, and basically just attending to the world around us. God is living and active in all things, so I think it’s necessary to pay attention. Yet when I’m asked to be “spiritually preparing” myself, I always feel kind of guilty because I’m not really sure what to do. I almost feel like I missed out on something in Christianity 101 that, for some reason, I think everyone else knows. This time when I received that request I just kept in my normal routine—living, learning, looking for God. Granted, I do need to read my Bible more. I do need to pray more. But, I don’t know—I’m just really conscious of the fact that my eyes are wide open, now more than they’ve ever been, and I’m so busy trying to process everything that it has become my spiritual discipline for now.

• I’ve been focused on trying to figure out how to really, truly LOVE the people I’m with in any given moment.

• I’ve been focused on fighting all the fears I’ve accumulated in the past decades. (Coincidentally, I have a lot more than I thought I did, and they are a lot more powerful than I’d originally thought.)

• I’ve been focused on putting together how God’s love and care for me and for the world is reflected in each relationship I am a part of, and see.

• And, I’ve been spending a lot of time making my own little side plans. Puzzling, plotting, ponderating. It’s become a hobby, really; I make side plans and itineraries and research and get maps and schedule stops and…and…and God shoves the entire project aside with a mischievous glint in his eye and say, “Let’s do this one bigger. Let’s not just go out of the box—let’s obliterate it!”

I sometimes hate how much God is into plurals. Even into the Trinity. S/he’s crazy about community, that one. “Let’s?” I think. “How about you obliterate the box and I wait and see what you’re doing and then decide to go along.” I know I’ll go along, see, I don’t have any choice. But the waiting part would make me feel better.

T minus 9 hours and counting. I think God is disinclined to aquiesce to my request.

I guess I’ll just follow the words of the frat boys here, then.

“What the hell—Let’s just go get smashed.” Amen.