"To
God, our journey is as important as our destinations."
Beth Moore
For the most part, our long anticipated trip back
to Alaska had been smooth flying. The few days my husband, Jim, and I spent in
Anchorage and Fairbanks even rewarded us with some sunshine. Now, sitting over
breakfast in a Juneau coffee shop, the weather was beginning to look “iffy.” A
chill in the air meant change was coming, maybe even an early onset of winter.
No surprise really. After all, there are few places like Alaska for extremes and
sudden changes.
Unless, of course, it’s life.
Thirty-nine years ago my life’s journey took what I consider its first major turn on both accounts. It was then, with eyes full of stardust and a heart full of idealistic fervor, I married a minister. At the time this seemed like a fairly straight forward decision. I mean, how could marrying a man of God not be a heavenly experience? Little did I know.
Still, when his first assignment landed us in sunny southern California—a near-heavenly habitat—I felt confirmed. Divine direction and a Disney-inspired dream—what more could you ask?
My wake-up call came two years later on a cold north wind.
That’s when Jim was offered the opportunity to pastor a church in a tiny Alaskan fishing village, a place called Pelican where he’d spent two summers in college. This was a change—and a location—I certainly had not anticipated.
Pelican, Alaska—located on an island in the Southeast panhandle between Juneau and Sitka, accessible only by boat or plane and boasting 90 year-round residents—was a pretty big change from San Diego, to say the least. Getting off the plane that first day was like stepping into a scene straight out of a western movie. The buildings all resembled replicas of old storefronts I’d seen back home in Kansas. Except Cow Town didn’t smell like creosote, diesel fuel and fish.
Squinting toward the top of one hill, I could just barely pick out the cross of the little white church and my new home. Dear Lord, I remember thinking, somehow we’ve mistakenly ended up in Frontierland! And where in the world was the Fast Pass booth when I needed it?
Perhaps it was only the echo of wind blowing off the surrounding snow-capped mountains that day, but I swear I heard a voice whispering, “Hold on, honey, this is just the beginning!”
And it was.
Of course not everyone marries a minister, nor would I recommend it unless you feel an undeniable draw in that direction. Surely there are a thousand different directions life can go.
Nor does everyone find themselves suddenly living on an isolated island. Yet anyone who has ever felt isolated by their circumstances—even in the middle of a big city—can surely relate. As can those who have found instruction and inspiration as a result of them. Still, no matter what inclination our vocation, change of this proportion will undoubtedly create an unexpected curve on anyone’s life course.
Change. “There’s nothing more certain in life,” some wise and witty person once wrote, “than change.” You’d think we’d get used to it, wouldn’t you? The truth is that no matter how long we live, change still comes hard for most of us.
Why do you suppose that is?
Change is, in a word, unsettling. We don’t want to be unsettled. We want life to take a straight, predictable path so that we can make plans and follow them without interruption or imposition.
We are, after all, busy people.
Ever stop to consider that time is exactly what change is about? Often it is God’s way of slowing us down long enough to get our attention. Of causing us to reflect, regroup and reposition in order to avoid a dangerous skid—or a fatal crash—farther down the road. Though none welcome the thought, sometimes He is even preparing us for the unimaginable.
Certainly as we mature, we all, of necessity, develop a better grasp on changing circumstances and the emotions that accompany them. The question is, how do we mature without traveling a few rough and circuitous routes?
“Consider it pure joy…” James 1:2 admonishes us “…whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” Obviously it requires some raw exposure to life before we determine exactly how God wants us to apply His directives. And whether or not we have what it takes to stay the course.
In my case, it was northern exposure.
