INDIANA JONES? ARE YOU SURE?
I havenít an adventurous bone in my body. In fact, some might describe me as an old stick Ďn the mud. But to understand my life you would need to envision an immense balancing act. Always attempting to keep those fine bone-china plates spinning in the air as Iím walking across Niagara Falls Ė on a rubber band. Can you relate?
Yes, a piece of me has always envied those who dared go over the falls in a barrel. But, the truth? I donít understand them. In this uncertain world I crave stability. Security. A little breathing room. No, a LOT of breathing room!
My picture of an adventurer is a swaggering sailor with a black eye patch, matching tri-corner hat, a peg leg and the proverbial parrot roosting on his shoulder squawking ďWhatís up, matey?Ē I may have the peg leg, butÖ.. Iím sure you get the picture. They always love to sail the deep blue seas. Right into un-chartered, sea-monster riddled waters. Me? I get sea sick! And besides, in that scenario the world always turns out to be flat. And they sail right off the edge. Minus the barrel!
Then - there is the dashing Indiana Jones type of adventurer. Inevitably, heíll be found exploring the Temple of Doom. Of course, after hacking his way through arachnid infested jungles, where the vines have an insatiable taste for human flesh. Spiders still give me the willies! He proceeds to plummet through the trap door in the temple floor. Rolling uncontrollably when he at last hits bottom, he grabs the edge of the cliff, just in time. Only to find himself dangling - over a bottomless pit. I think Iíve been there! Then, he swings across another cavernous pit full of venom-dripping snakes, on a rope rapidly unraveling down to its final strand. And letís not forget the damsel in distress, precariously clinging to his back. The rope snaps, andÖ. He lands, on the last remaining patch of solid ground, with the treasure chest at his feet. He opens the lid and finds Ė nothing! Someone else has beaten him to it.
No, adventure is definitely NOT my forte. Give me the quiet life! Crying babies. Overflowing washing machines. A melee of kids and pets tracking gooey mud over my freshly scrubbed floors. At least this time is wasnít the carpet. And, all that before lunchtime. Remember that stability and security? Iím still craving it, in the few moments of sanity I can hijack from my day.
Solomon, however, just let me in on a little secret, and I canít say it left me squealing in delight. You remember him, the wisest of the wise. His secret? Being an adventurer is NOT an option. Not unless we want to bail on the kingdom of God. Now, thatís talking BIG dangle over a bottomless pit.
Wisdom! Insight! Understanding! Solomon reminded me that each of these is a priceless jewel in the treasury of knowing God. And they donít just plop in my lap, or yours, any more than the security and stability I crave. In fact, Solomon tells me I have to look for them like silver and search for them like hidden treasure. No thatís the ultimate treasure hunt.
To find silver it takes splitting and crushing rocks. Becoming an expert at everything from pickaxe to blasting powder. Guess that means Iíll be breaking a nail or two. And, Iíll wind up with a fair share of blisters on my hands. But when that silver is extracted? Iíll begin to know God. Really KNOW Him!
And hunting hidden treasure isnít any easier than mining silver. It will be an arduous journey, taking me to mysterious places, searching the unknown. My feet are going to get dirty and callused, and Iíll experience exercise like Iíve never known, before itís over. But in the process, Iíll see Godís face more clearly, and cling to Him more firmly. And know what it is to be borne over those snake-infested pits in arms that never falter.
So, I guess I need to find my discarded pair of kakis, dig out the old trekking shoes, grab a pickaxe and my map, and hit the road. Indiana Jones, here I come. It promises to be some great adventure. Guess youíll hear me squealing after all!
© 11 November 2004
DeAnna L. Brooks
DeAnna Brooks (December 5, 2007)
Having raised four children, I live now in Texas. Mostly my writing is a sojourn with God. I find myself ever planted in Eden, glorying in its abundant and rich communion with the Almighty. Or, I am looking back, with longing. And the sojourn continues.
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