I‘m just really not sure what God was trying to tell me?
(Okay – now back from working on doctoral studies at Fuller, I am running out of excuses for not blogging. Here goes…)
I just recently reconnected over coffee with my friend Howie from SoCal. Howie and I haven’t really seen each other for give or take about five years, the last and actually only time being in New Zealand, as a team of people going to Christchurch, when I was included in a group speaking on the South Island. (I’m particularly mindful of my friends in Christchurch because of the earthquake yesterday.)
I loved Howie the moment I met him that first time at LAX, getting ready to board the plane for the long trip to the land of the Kiwis. I guess it’s probably because he breaks all the stereotypes of race and ethnicity. This soft-spoken, eclectic giant will never fit nicely into the box.
The first time I laid eyes on him, Howie was a rangy, twenty-something with long dreads on his shoulders. Highly artistic. And disarmingly gentle and kind in his demeanor. Oh, and also quite a thinker. He knows the scriptures as well as any veteran theologian, but not in a churchy way like you might think. It is evident these truths have been slowly woven into the fabric of his life. Like Jesus, he is very enjoyable to be around.
This time, minus the dreads, he has a long, thin-braided goatee running a few inches south of his chin. A small ball cap is strategically placed a bit sideways to the right on his head. And this time, he has a skateboard at his side. You just never know what to expect when you see Howie. Different from our last encounter, when he had a jimbae (a hand drum) slung around his shoulder. That’s gotta be one of the reasons why I love him.
Why did he have a skateboard at his side when I walked into Starbucks? Not really sure, except that he said he rode it from his truck in the parking lot to the front door of Starbucks. Okay, then. Let’s just go with that. I counted myself fortunate to grab a cup of coffee with him in the margins of his life. Actually though, Howie ordered an ‘iced green tea with no ice, please,’ as he began to unpack his story to me of his mission to Las Vegas. He explained that he had driven his Chevy Silverado truck up from SoCal for the weekend to deliver a banner to a friend now living here.
So, what’s shakin’ with Howie? Quite a lot, in fact. Currency trading, a partner in a web-based business. A few other odds to make ends meet. But what was really enjoyable about my time with him was the tale he told of his trek to Vegas, which innocently began with borrowing a friend’s car to save money on gas. His truck is similar to mine and is not renown for its exemplary mileage achievements.
The plan was to use his friend’s wheels to pick up the banner near San Diego for the long drive ahead to Sin City. However, by the time he arrived there Friday, the banner was not quite just ready. This was quite disconcerting for Howie, because it was Friday. Those familiar with negotiating the I-15 raceway know well of the perils attempting to make their way to Vegas on a Friday night. Everybody and their sinful grandmother are rocketing at mach speed to indulge in debaucherous living.
Adding insult to injury, Howie’s friend had even paid an extra $300 bucks to have the banner done in express time. Never the less, as we know, there are some things we just cannot control in life, this being one of them. So Howie was left to pace for three grueling hours while the workers busily finished the banner. On the bright side, he did say that he was able to put together a ‘killer playlist’ for his arduous trail to Vegas.
Long story longer now, by the time the banner was finished, the rains had begun to descend upon SoCal in the form of a torrential deluge just a bit short of ark building. So there we find Howie, with his long overdue banner in hand, now heading late, late to Vegas with all the other crazies on a Friday rush hour evening in the rain. With just a few minor setbacks, our hero has seems to have made lemonade from the proverbial lemons in life.
Until of course, the car accident. Yeah, that’s right. The car accident. Yeah, I know it’s not his car! I realize it’s the one he borrowed from a friend. But a car accident nonetheless. The good news is that the other car involved got off with nary a dented muffler. Howie’s borrowed vehicle, not so fortunate. A mangled bumper twisted into a v-like shape. The radiator damaged and leaking. A car not really all that drivable. Oh, and did I mention, it was raining?
So, what’s a good guy like Howie to do? Well, my mans’ pretty resourceful and not about to throw in the alleged wet towel at this point. He wrestles the jack from the trunk and begins to pry the said bumper back into somewhat of a recognizable form. All this so he can drive the ninety miles back to his house in Anaheim to retrieve his truck, and then in turn venture the two hundred miles or so to Vegas, baby, to complete the task. Did I mention it was raining?
Somehow, with unseen angels no doubt assisting, Howie manages to bend the bumper into some kind of a workable shape. However, because of the recent mishap, there is now something dangling from the said vehicle. But does my Howie call it quits? Au contraire. He takes off one of his Chuck Taylor’s, removes the shoelace and uses it to strap the damaged metal back onto the car. Seriously, I’m not kidding. And hey, did I mention it was raining?
Mission almost accomplished, right? Except, of course, for that leaking radiator. Fear not, Howie stops at a nearby roadside store to buy several gallon jugs of water. On the way up the freeway, he frequently and fearfully glances at the rising temperature on the gauge, stopping to periodically refill the leaking metal container on his way back to home. To complicate matters a bit, it is now dark and the one flashlight Howie owns is safe and warm back at his house. This poor soul has encountered more hurdles than a college track meet. Did I mention it is raining?
Howie finally nurses the borrowed car into his driveway just before midnight. All he has to do now is drive to Vegas. And by the way, did I mention it was raining?
I have to tell you that by the end of this story, I was in tears from laughing so hard. I mean shoelaces? But when Howie questioned, ‘Looking back on all this, I‘m just really not sure what God was trying to tell me?’ I had to laugh out loud.
‘No kidding!’ I said.
‘How can we ever know in times like that what God is doing?’ I countered. ‘Uhh, maybe patience? Perseverance? Character? Who knows?! I then relayed the example I see in the life of Paul, whom God clearly spoke to about going to Rome, and then made it almost impossible for Paul to get there. The truth be told, Paul got there after an attack by a crazed mob in Jerusalem, numerous jail time and court appearances, a ferocious storm at sea, a shipwreck, a near-drowning, numerous near-executions and finally, after hawking up seaweed and salt water, a poisonous snake bite once on dry land. Give me a break! Paul eventually arrives in Rome in chains and by the skin of his teeth.
I wonder if Paul ever uttered words similar to Howie’s? ‘I’m not really sure what God was trying to tell me?’ Maybe so. I just know myself and probably most of us can relate to Howie’s experience as well as Paul’s. Sometimes we are right in the middle of a serious storm and at the same time right in the center of God’s will. I can’t fully explain it. I just know it to be true.
Grace.
barryjacobdiamond
