the First of seven new days

by Phil Walter

Saturday.
Woke at 6am, made tea for three (earl grey). Ate breakfast. Helped gather final items for the trip.
At 7am, drove the three to church, with piles of luggage. Saw friends, some recent, some not. Enjoyed the sunrise.
7:45, prayed for the group, asked the Lord to bless them with more than just fun and adventure and adrenaline. Left wishing I was going too.

8am. Mist rises from the tarp over our little 14' hobie cat sailboat, as the early summer sun declares You are God on this new day. I only care about sailing because of these summer youth group trips; I've gone on five of them, learned new things about community, humility, adventure (and the tough or mundane that come with it), and encountered the Creator and Lover in new ways. And now I send my sister as I pine for those legendary days.

As I read through the Narnia series last year (really for the first time), I was deeply impressed by one common theme present in most of the books: the long journey. The time between adventures. The Pevinsies' journey to the Beavers' house, Shasta and Aravis's ride across the desert, Digory's flight to that magic Tree, Jill and Puddleglum's march to the land of the Giants, and certain moments from the Voyage of the Dawntreader when they sit windless for days or sail Eastward as provisions run low. Each story describes some long, difficult, repetitive, unadventurous piece of the adventure, and that surprised me.

I was surprised mainly because my adventures have rarely lasted more than a week. Anyone can endure the mundane for a week! But after two or three weeks of the same arduous tasks, I imagine you would start to forget why you are adventuring. Thoughts of "the good life" back home, worries of the dangers ahead, the usual little annoyances which build with time, could easily turn to mutiny. "Let's go back," they would say, "back to the life we knew, where comfort reigned and pleasure was accessible." I feel that way sometimes, when I have forgotten what I was seeking and what great goal initiated this adventure. What can be done about this mutiny within me?

Remember.

Remember the goal, the prize, the treasure. Repeat to yourself the story of the moment you chose this adventure. Relive the choice you made in the face of all the dangers you knew would come. Revive those first steps, those first moments of being truly alive, and the radical self-abandonment and courage and faith. Restore the vision of a journey completed, a hope fulfilled, a glory achieved. Wouldn't that be worth it all, worth anything and everything?

That is the only way I know to quell the mutiny. Now, for seven days of vision renewed, hope restored, decision remade. Adventure towards glory, and all that comes along the way. This is the life I have chosen, and when my whole self cries mutiny, I will remember and choose it again.

"...Christ in you, the hope of glory." Colossians 1:27