Risk.

So, in the previous post, Enough I shared how I had had it up to here (picture my hand gesturing a level approximately up to my chin) with the church, or (more accurately, Jesus. Because it had to be His fault for the suck I experienced with His bride, right? Right?)

So, I had signed up to go on this weird event that can’t even be called a retreat because, well, retreating is running away from something, and what I experienced, was running toward something.

At the time, I was an engineer and a project manager. Timing, planning, Gantt charts and critical paths were my modus operandi. And this, um, event, told me nothing about what I would be experiencing. There was no published agenda. Only dates and times to be at the camp, how to arrange travel, and how to prepare for 4 days and 3 nights at 12,000 feet above sea level. Bring a bible, appropriate clothing, and a heart ready to surrender and to be intentional.

No name tags. A feature of the event which was originally unnerving is now my preference for conferences, seminars, and meetings. Meet the people you want to meet and that God leads to you and trust in the Holy Spirit to forge the right relationships. That’s a part of surrender.

Over the next 4 days and 3 nights, I would meet a handful of men that I call friends. And from that, still more. I would learn what God truly thought of me, not merely a sinner saved by grace, but that I am made to do wonderful things that He specifically designed for me to do in order to make Him known in my circles of influence. I would learn that His story, and mine, is a story of rescue so daring and personal that I would continue to ponder its depths for time to come.

And, when I got home from the experience and wanted to share with the men in my circle of influence, the standard response I got was something along the lines of, “So. What are we going to study next?”

To be continued.