A Story Worth Waiting For

I went to four different colleges in the process of getting my four year undergraduate degree.  One of the places I attended was Point Loma Nazarene College.  It was a beautiful location; the dorm I lived in overlooked the Pacific.  It was filled with great people: I have very fond memories of the friends I made.  It had great professors: many of them inspired us to follow Jesus.  Despite all of this, If I were honest, it had been a very long time since I gave any serious thought about the place or the time I spent there.  That changed about a month ago.   

 

One of my friends from Point Loma found me on facebook.  Apparently, he had been looking for me for about 10 years.  Though he remembered I came from the Central Valley, he thought I lived in Manteca, and so he searched for me there.  Since I have only driven through the place on my way to somewhere else he had little success in tracking me down.  Once facebook appeared on the scene, he began to try to track me down via the internet.  Unable to remember how to spell Ottenad, this effort was not any more successful.  Finally, he turned the search over to his wife, who was able to solve the mystery of where I had been for all these years.

He lives in Irvine.  He imagined I lived in the Central Valley.  Picture his surprise when he discovered I had been living in Long Beach ever since we left Point Loma.  Once we connected on facebook he explained had been looking for me for some time because he wanted to share with me the impact I had on him in his early years of following Jesus.  We made plans, set a date and last night we went to his home for dinner.

I could recount for you how gracious his wife was and how quickly she endeared herself to us.  I could tell you about his sons and what wonderful young men they seemed to be.  I could even recount for you how great it was to reconnect with this long lost friend and the ease with which, despite all the years that have passed, we were able to pick up our friendship.  It might be even more entertaining to tell you some of the stories he told, because he is a great storyteller, but I think I just want to tell you one.  It is part of the reason we were there in the first place.

My friend loved to surf and was much better at it than he would let on.  He was reluctant to get too involved in the surf culture of the school.  After all, he was there to study.  Because of his reluctance, when the annual surf completion the school holds rolled around he only half heartedly entered.  I on the other hand was very excited and had full confidence he would do well.  The day of the competition I showed up at his dorm door to pick him up so we could head out to the beach.   He began talking about backing out.  To hear him tell it, I would have none of it and talked him into going.

At the competition, he was in a heat which would lead to the finals, but had not caught a wave.  He remembers seeing me sitting on the beach with my eyes closed.  Later he asked me what I was doing and I told him I was praying he would catch a good wave (back then I must have thought you could only pray with your eyes closed).  Just then a perfect wave broke and he was the first surfer up.  It was a great ride.  There was only about five minutes left in the heat and he needed at least two more waves.  Just like in the movies, with time running out he paddled back out, caught the next wave, had another great ride.  Moving quickly, he paddled past the break once more and caught his last wave of the heat just before the horn blew.  Best of all he won and headed to the finals.

I wish I could tell you he won it all that day.  He ended coming in second, but that is not the point of the story.  As I sat there with my friend listening to him retell the events of that day he explained to me how impactful it was to his life, having a friend praying for him and to seeing God answer that prayer in such a specific way.

There were other stories he told, like the time we went out sharing our faith and he ended up inviting a Jewish family to church.  After he knocked on their door, a woman answered and kindly pointed out the Star of David and asked him what it meant.  He told her he had no idea.  When she explained the family was Jewish, he smiled and said it was ok for Jewish people to come to church.   She closed the door.

My friend had only been following Jesus for about a year and came from a church where there was very little difference between the people he had been hanging out with on the beach and the people who were in the church.  He told me that I was one of the first people to show him what following Jesus was like, and the time we shared at Point Loma made a spiritual impact on him.

Here is the thing.  I was just a college student who was only a few years older in the faith than he was.  I was doing nothing more special than seeking to follow Jesus myself and allowing this reality to permeate all the areas of my life, including my friendships.  We did not meet for weekly bible study, had no discipleship plan, there was no “I am discipler” and “you are the disciplee.”  There was just friendship, shared life, and a desire to become like Jesus, in both of us.

Somehow, the Holy Spirit took all of this and impacted my friend’s life in a significant way.  To hear his wife tell it, the stories we were remembering are stories he has told to his sons over and over.  At one point she turned to me and said we have always heard his version of the story, we want to hear yours.  I was a little embarrassed because I wasn’t quite sure which story she was talking about.  That was when he reminded me of the day of the surf competition and the prayer on the beach. 

I was there.  I did pray.  I remember being excited that he won the heat, but the impact of that moment on his life had very little to do with me.  It is the Spirit of God who used the moment to cement in my friend’s soul something significant about the ability to call out to God and have Him answer in very specific ways.  I had no idea of the significance of that moment to my friend until he shared it with me over dinner.

It made me wonder how many other holy moments take place in our lives which we will never recognize this side of heaven, unless we are given the gift of someone telling us about them.  It also made me realize most of the holy moments of our lives are not going to come while we are sitting in church.  They are going to happen in dorms, on the beach, at work, in our neighborhoods, and just about every other imaginable place you can think of. They are going to come as we are sharing life, extending friendship, and living out our desire to become like Jesus.  They are going to come as we love one another, cheer one another on, and pray for one another.

Sitting around their table, telling stories from the past, and catching up on where our lives have taken us since then, became a very holy moment for me.  I could see how God knits all things together.  I marveled at how He uses every part of our lives to mold and shape us spiritually, sometimes in surprising ways,  and I recognized His graciousness to me in being able to sit down at a table with my friend in this season of my life. It was a gift.

As I sat there basking in the joy of the moment, I wondered, given God’s perfect timing, why it took so long for my friend to find me.  I cannot help but think, if my friend and I are willing to watch together and maybe pray with our eyes open, we may be surprised by the traces of the sacred that we are yet to see.  I have a sneaky suspicion the story is not yet complete.

When it is, you will want to hear my friend tell it, because he is a great storyteller.