At day’s end, I am not offered the position. Disappointed to be sure, I am not surprised. I am also consoled by the fact that I’d be given a second shot to interview for another spot on the team, but only after they look at four other candidates in the next three weeks. Now I am in the back of the line, starting all over at Square One in my search for a call. Alas, I lack. (I know, a “2nd interview” does not equate with “Square One”—but that’s how I feel.)
The next morning, at dawn, I receive this story from Mac Anderson’s Simple Truths, a source of inspirational reading for my occasional quiet times before the Lord. No coincidence here:
His name was Cliff Young, and his "racing attire" included overalls and galoshes over his work boots.
At first, they refused to let him enter. So he explained that he'd grown up on a 2,000-acre farm, with thousands of sheep. His family could afford neither horses nor tractors so, when the storms came, his job was to round up the sheep. Sometimes, he said, it would take two or three days of running.
In his honor and memory, in 2004, the year after his death at age 81, the organizers of the race where he first gained fame permanently changed its name to the Cliff Young Australian Six Day Race….
What was the key to Cliff Young's success? It goes by various names: determination, perseverance, persistence, tenacity. It means keeping one's eye fixed steadfastly on a goal, and not stopping, no matter the difficulties or the obstacles, until that goal is achieved
My resolve to continue the quest unabated is being tested, as the pressure to quit is mounting. Do I have what it takes to persevere? Am I another Cliff Young?
Do 500 miles in 6 days? I am not that loopy. No way, José! I can’t do that in 60. Yet I persist in hope, despite feeling terrible landing back at Square One.
For those of you just joining this event and wondering what’s going on, I’m going on my fourth year of continuously looping back to the starting gate of ministry. After many fits and starts, pit-stops and dead-ends, I am wondering, How long, O Lord, must I do this? Must I keep looping back? Is there not another way forward?
For starters, I’ll admit, I got “stuff” to work on and get cleaned up. I seek to integrate head and heart, words and emotions. And I don’t mind if someone wants to help me clean up, even dredge and drain away some dirty bathwater from my past, but please don’t toss out this baby with the bathwater. Someone lead me, take me just as I am, please.
Out of the tub, I want the comfort of a large, warm, terry cloth towel. I want to cover up and hide inside.
The Chaplain in me wants to seize the next good opportunity. My Inner Chaplain still has an outlet on Sunday mornings at St. Mary’s Care Center. To this captive audience perched in wheelchairs, I preach through Hebrews 11 with all those heroes of the faith. Little bits of faith, or “obits of faith,” as I call them. No small wonder or coincidence there. But, Lord, do I have to apply to myself every sermon on faith and perseverance before I preach it?
If you are unfortunate enough to visit Rock Bottom one day, and if I end up the Chaplain on-call visiting wherever you are, I promise not to drop any “positive-thinking clichés” on you in your down-but-not-out position. That would be to drown you in your own tub or pity party, or trip you up in the race God has set before you. Instead I will extend a helping hand up, help you empty dirty bathwater, help you scrub up and share your story, plus reciprocate with my story and any Scriptures, as appropriate.
Already, as I hear myself speak these words, I am moving beyond Square One. Hope to catch up with you soon.