Prototype Issue
Missives from the Madhouse
Posted by pcaneday
Retreat!!!
I heard my 12 year old neighbor call something spicy the other day. I think it was a necklace or a pair of sunglasses. Apparently for those of us who remember when the original Star Wars movies came out, a time before cell phones, iPods, text messaging and MySpace, spicy is the new cool. Spicy is good. Keep that in mind and follow me.
I left my house one recent Friday morning to take part in a weekend men’s retreat with my church. I departed at 11am attempting purposely to turn a 2 hour drive into a 5 hour drive, having taken the whole day off from work. I am a big fan of the journey. I like the destination too, but there is so much to learn along the way. I am in no hurry, especially when the journey takes me along the California coast and into the mountains.
About an hour into my drive north I got hungry, so I pulled off to get a hamburger in Ventura. There is nothing like a fast food drive-thru to destroy the spirit that builds up on a good drive. So I took my food and got back on the highway heading north, looking for the first spot I could find on the coast to pull over and eat with a nice view of the ocean. About 10 minutes and I found that spot, a little piece off Pacific Coast Highway for campers and day use. I parked and got into the bed of my truck, pulled my favorite flannel sleeping bag up to rest against, and ate my burger watching the surfers, seagulls and beach combers.
I sat, I ate, I took in this serene scene. The sun was shining down from a cloudless sky; a cool sea breeze kept away the exhaust from the nearby highway. The surfers cut through the waves with grace, a flock of pelicans swooped down and skimmed the surface of the water, riding a wave of their own above the surface of the ocean. And then out of the corner of my eye I saw something leap from the water. I focused on the spot and a second later I saw it again. A dolphin leaped out of the water, then another and another. As I watched this pod of playful dolphins catching waves along with the surfers, leaping into the air, I thought, this is about as close to God as I can get.
Watching the surfers and the dolphins enjoying this, God’s creation, north of Ventura and just south of heaven, the breeze, the sun, the smells all around me, I found myself in a cathedral, the most magnificent temple that no human hands nor mind could create nor conceive. And I worshipped here in my own peaceful, silent, appreciative way.
I drove a little further on, stopped in Santa Barbara just long enough to find a used bookstore. And as the spirit works in moments like this, like a pitcher throwing a no hitter, in the groove, the ball just bouncing his way, I ran across a fine little used bookstore within minutes. The spirit did not want me in a city for very long. He wanted me back on the road, you see. I picked up another C.S. Lewis book and a small collection of scriptural writings and essays, then got back on the highway as soon as I could find the nearest onramp back to where I was. Back in my car, filled up but not with gasoline, I drove on and into the mountains just north of Santa Barbara.
I love California. It has its faults, and there are too many to list here. But I love it because in the same day, you can drive through the desert, along the coastline and into the mountains in just a few hours. You can ride a motorcycle through the sand dunes of the desert and the beach, surf on the snow and the waves, all in the same day. So I turned from the ocean and into the mountains. The highway into the hills here is a beautiful winding road with panoramic views of the vast coastline. From this vantage point you can really see the absolute awesomeness of the Pacific Ocean, it’s sheer indescribable size.
And all too quickly I was at the turnoff to my destination, a small camp in the oak forest about 30 minutes south of the Solvang and Los Olivos wine country. But I was not quite ready yet. I could still feel the spirit moving me onward, my forward momentum not letting up, the inertia of the drive. So I rolled on, driving right past the camp.
Coming over the pass, you are treated to a spectacular view of Lake Cachuma and the surrounding farmlands resting in this hilltop valley, high above and out of sight of the whispering ocean cliffs. Vineyards and fruit orchards, oak groves and grassy fields. I drove into this valley and along the shore of the lake. Back to water, the cleansing, healing, nourishing pull of water. What draws us to bodies of water, streams, lakes, oceans? Certainly something more than physical thirst.
So, drawn to the lake, I pulled over and found a spot under the shady branches of some old, old oak trees; sat again in the bed of my truck, resting against my flannel sleeping bag, overlooking the lake. I pulled out a few books to see what needed to be read. I’ve heard pastors talk about just opening the word and seeing where your finger lands, see what perchance God wants to tell you. So, thinking I’d like this small miracle right about now, I opened the book of scriptural writings and landed on a piece from the Sermon on the Mount. As I read through it the one line that just stuck in my head, I know not why, was “ye are the salt of the earth.”
I meditated on this for some time, looking out over the calm water, so different from the ocean, shrouded under the oak’s shade. I have heard this passage a thousand times, as have most people I am sure. But I have never really thought about it, never really tried to understand it. I sat and I thought and I let it sink in, and then I drove off without coming to any great answer, but fulfilled and at peace nonetheless.
So I drove back to the camp, having successfully turned my 2 hour drive into 5. I joined my brothers and we prayed and ate and played and ate and rejoiced and prayed and worshipped and learned and ate some more. I am not sure that the others were filled in the same way that I was, but we all brought with us our own journey to celebrate. At night we sang by the fire pit. And the sky was so clear I just had to lie down and look up at that sheet of darkness, pinpricked by billions of stars. I imagined the light behind that sheet. I imagined God’s own hand reaching down and touching my upturned hand.
Comfort.
And the next morning during our service, I could not take my eyes off the trees outside the worship hall. The early morning light, so clear and unpolluted, shown down through the green leaves as they waved gently in the breeze. I tried to count how many shades of green I saw but couldn’t. I wanted to tell everyone to look outside. There! There is your sermon! There is the light and the way! All around me was nature’s beauty, and I found myself lost and enraptured in these colors, sights, sounds, smells and tastes of this earth.
And I think I then understood it. May my pastor forgive me for my interpretation.
Salt seasons. Meat and vegetables are good. Seasoned, they are better. This place, this creation, this world, is awesome. The beach, the dolphins, the waves, the birds, the mountains, the trees, the orchards, the fields and on and on.
Awesome.
40 men retreated to the hills above Santa Barbara, into the wilderness. Ye are the salt of the earth. 40 men went into the wilderness to learn how to be spicy. They went to learn how to season this place, to make something wonderful even better. And I know, as sure as anything, that we all want the same thing. Somewhere deep within us, we are all trying to make things better. Maybe for ourselves, maybe for others. Search yourself, retreat for a spell, and I think you will find that same yearning.
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