Sunday, January 24, 2016

The Mountaintop Experience



During the season of mulling over lists in our journals, trying our best to be good students, we were totally transparent with our small group.  We have been blessed for the last 15 years to have an intimate inner circle of friends who encourage and keep us accountable to live the lives we have committed to living.  We call this group of 5 other couples our Small Group.  They pray for us, love us when we forget the truth, think  erroneous thoughts, sav hurtful things to our spouses and yell at our kids.  When we were considering applying for the regional job, they were the first to hear about it.  They willingly joined us in prayer and patiently processed every facet of this life-changing decision.  

One friend from our small group said that when she prayed, she kept seeing a picture of Jeff and I standing on the banks of a rushing river.  In the scene that she saw, we were holding hands and stepping boldly, feet first, into a rushing river.  She told me what she saw.  With no harm done, I thanked her for sharing and parked this odd visual in the back of my mind. 

On the day of the interview with the regional board, we went out to lunch with the Ellensburg Area Director.  We listened to him talk about his region and his ministry over Italian salads.  After our meal, he suggested that we go down to the park at the end of the road as a place where we could gather our thoughts and put the finishing touches on our interview outfits.  He said it had a nice view and a shaded parking lot that would provide a cool resting spot on the hot August day.  We slowing rolled into the park.  Jumped out of the car to look over the side of the parking lot and were greeted by a rushing and powerful river.  Is this the river our friend saw in her picture of us?  I felt a little nauseous and wanted to jump in the Yakima River that was rushing before our eyes.  It was too real.

I didn’t jump. We went to the interview.  On the chatty drive home, we stopped at our favorite restaurant in Cle Elum, and kept driving, expecting a phone call lthe morning after.  Near the top of Snoqualmie pass Jeff received a text message from the Divisional Vice President requesting a call back.  I was driving, offering Jeff a break. We pulled over at the Department of Transportation restrooms at the top of the mountain pass.  We jumped out of the car and Jeff called back his supervisor.  He was offered the job and was asked if he would accept the job.  Silence.  Jeff looked at me, covered the phone with his hand and whispered, “what should I say?” “It’s your thing!”  I whispered back.  What a lie.  But I said it because he was the one who would be responsible for his decision.  He accepted.   And there, on the mountaintop, we knew things would be forever different.   

On the way home, we called our small group and requested a special meeting for the following night to discuss the interview.  One couple was away delivering their oldest son to college and joined us via skype.  We shared the play by play version of the previous day’s happenings.    Heather’s questions were peculiar.  “When you got the call, were you on the top of the mountain, or near the top, maybe on the other side?”  Her curiosity was almost troubling.  “We pulled over at the summit we took the call and said yes right there…” I assured her.  

“Hmm… not to freak you out, but when we were praying for you before this, I saw you and Jeff on the top of a mountain deciding if you would lead that region.  It was as if you were standing between the two areas, divided by the mountain, and were deciding right then and there where you would go.”  She didn’t want to tell us what she so vividly envisioned in her head.  I’m sure she thought I would think she was weird.  But she had to share the picture she saw and to me it was reassuring.  

The scene in her mind is exactly what happened.  Jeff and I at the mountain summit, deciding our own fate, choosing between the known life we have grown to love, and the unknown land of obedience. 

Mind was blown. 

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