DON'T HESITATE
As I sit and sip my go-to medium Americano with extra room at Peet’s Coffee in Pasadena this morning, my mind effortlessly locks back to the sip of fine champagne with my friends over the weekend. Michael, a deadpan humorist in the group, who is also highly respected brought the choicest champagne. He proceeded to toast to the five of us who have turned 60 years old this year along with thirteen others. Michael raised his glass high and said, “You have served God, but God has also served you,” as all five of us have been in full-time ministry for decades. Our glasses clinked with Michael’s glass and with each other and happily shouted “Cheers” in unison. Earlier, my wife and I rode with Michael and his wife for a group hike. In the car, Michael said in a concerned tone, “I forgot to put champagne in the fridge!” and was about to turn around. His wife gently reminded him he did. That was when I suspected he wanted to create the toast moment. It is a good thing because the moment has now been etched into a fond memory.
The truth of the matter is that we are not just “others.” Most of us have been friends for more than four decades (and counting). The longevity of our friendship alone is enough to celebrate. Our friendship ultimately traces back to Young Nak Presbyterian Church of LA and we all are living witnesses of God’s unmerited revival in our midst. We were all swept up with our feet not touching the ground, figuratively speaking, and eventually got spread all over the world—carrying the DNA and memory that God met us powerfully. After raising young families and doing our due diligence on ministries and works set before us, in the last several years, we have begun reconnecting intentionally and regularly.
One thing I have observed is that we all have served faithfully in whatever the context. We all did what needed to be done. We did what we had to do. Now, we are transitioning to doing things that we want to do, what our hearts desire. On the surface, it sounds like a simple switch, but we know that there has been a long and lonely process of honest soul searching, letting go (the process of detachment and deconstruction), and paying close attention to what our soul truly desires and longs for. Finally, we are following through even if it means facing uncertainties, and unknowns, as well as a whole new world of open vistas and possibilities. The will to “follow through” stems from “courage to be, more precisely courage to be oneself” which would inevitably include crossing new frontiers of life. I see this existential courage in action, and it is a privilege to be part of it.
Additionally, if there was one dominant theme and emotion I felt during the weekend, it would be joy, the joy of being together and being connected. Joy gets tripled because of our shared rich past, abiding present, and hopeful future. Perhaps hundreds (if not thousands) of photos we took were a sign of treasuring the joy we experienced together. Perhaps extra lingering in between conversations, silence, and laughter especially when saying goodbyes was an intimation of ruminating on joy. Perhaps the hike represented a vivid reminder to us all that we are all, sometimes alone and sometimes together, on the journey. Perhaps all the meals we shared were a sliced reality of Jesus’ envisioning of saints’ communion.
On the last night, I almost read the poem, Don’t Hesitate, by Mary Oliver with the group but held back. As I sit with the memory of the weekend this morning, the poem gently makes its way to me.
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
There were plenty of seen and unseen (which are “quiet miracles that sought no attention”) instances of love happening in the midst of us. Love came to us in the shapes of care, listening, smiles, laughter, warm touches and hugs, soft gaze into each other’s eyes, service, and tears. This love translated into joy was an undeniable gift from heaven that showered us like the warm November ray of California coastal sunshine.
I love Oliver’s choice of tentative and wondering words, “possibility, perhaps, sometimes, something, could, anything, anyway, and whatever.” She is not forcing or demanding joy, she is simply highlighting and inviting us to joy’s abundance—if you look for it, you will find it.
All in all, I am glad that we all “did not hesitate and gave in to joy” when joy swooned and swept us up. Surely, joy was not made to be a crumb.