Long Walk to Freedom

I found myself watching many different things on the news as 2013 came to a close: reflections on the 1-year anniversary of Sandy Hook, the "Fast4Families" call for immigration reform, escalating tensions in Sudan and horrific attacks in Syria, all the buzz about Pope Francis as the Time Magazine "Person of the Year"... but the stories I found myself following the most closely were the commemoration events that marked the passing of Nelson Mandela.

I had planned on reading his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, during the Christmas Break, but when he died on December 5, I immediately got started. I was about halfway through the book when I went with a friend to see the film of the same name that came out at Christmas. I was nervous that I would stop reading once I saw the movie, but a 2 1/2 hour movie cannot begin to capture the massive swath of history covered in the book, so I returned to reading with renewed interest. (My own review: it's a really good movie... but no surprise, the book is even better!)

Digging into a thick biography is nothing new for me. I usually try to pick up one per year; in the past I have studied the lives of Theodore Roosevelt, John Steinbeck, Sir Ernest Shackleton, Lewis & Clark, Lou Gehrig, Mother Teresa, Eric Liddell, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Merton, Martin Luther, James McBride, Lauren Winner, C.S. Lewis... My appetite is never really satisfied! I immediately made a mental note for my next one when I saw a preview for a new movie coming out this April on the life of César Chávez.

I am currently in the section of Mandela's book that the movie did not portray in deep enough detail: his 27 years spent in captivity as a political prisoner. He spent 18 of those years on Robben Island, a desolate former leper colony. I finally have to make myself go to bed as I read these chapters; they are so gripping that I do not want them to end, but at the same time I don't feel like I can read fast enough to take it all in.

One of the main reasons I enjoy reading biographies is that I am profoundly fascinated by people's capacity to endure and move on past hardship. I learn from each person's journey, and if you know anything about the people listed above, you will see that the majority of them persevered through unimaginable suffering, remarkable challenges and heart-breaking misfortune.

With this is in mind, I am truly being schooled when it comes to the life of Nelson Mandela. Here's a sampling of some of the things he describes:

• At that time of year, the cells were so cold and the blankets provided so little warmth that we always slept fully dressed.
• The racial divide on Robben Island was absolute: there were no black warders, and no white prisoners.
• Prison is designed to break one's spirit and destroy one's resolve. To do this, the authorities attempt to exploit every weakness, demolish every initiative, negate all signs of individuality -- all with the idea of stamping out that spark that makes each of us human and each of us who we are.
• I never seriously considered the possibility that I would not emerge from prison one day.
• The authorities liked to say that we received a balanced diet; it was indeed balanced -- between the unpalatable and the inedible. 
• As a D Group prisoner [the lowest grade], I was entitled to have only one visitor, and to write and receive only one letter every six months. I found this one of the most inhumane restrictions of the prison system.
• We fought injustice wherever we found it, no matter how large, or how small, and we fought injustice to preserve our own humanity.
• [After describing his bouts of solitary confinement] But the human body has an enormous capacity for adjusting to trying circumstances. I have found that one can bear the unbearable if one can keep one's spirits strong even when one's body is being tested. Strong convictions are the secret of surviving deprivation; your spirit can be full even when your stomach is empty.

I won't begin to compare anything in my experience with the expansive saga of Mandela. But for the last several months I have been part of a group that is seeking after lives of shalom and solidarity on the Westside here in Santa Barbara, an underserved community with the majority living at poverty level. So the story of Long Walk to Freedom is compelling and instructive. There are about 20 of us who are building friendships there week after week, and I am grateful that there are many small victories to celebrate.

Nevertheless, we have very, very far to go to truly join in the lives of those we have met. But if Nelson Mandela can live through 27 years of imprisonment, I cannot find any of the challenges I am facing to be insuperable. Rather, as he counsels, I will seek to live by "strong convictions" and the invigorating strength of the Holy Spirit, seeking to work with others to fight injustice and be messengers of peace and hope. 

As you begin this year, what road are you on? Has it been a long odyssey? Do you feel like you are nearing the goal, or are you wandering? Are your spirits flagging? Be reminded that the journey is the destination. Redouble your efforts and dig in for the long haul. Personally, I can only do that with the grace and revival of the Spirit's work in my life daily... and reading good books like Long Walk to Freedom!

So as 2014 commences, I rejoice that I have truly, finally, found freedom (Galatians 5:1) through the honesty and beauty of the gospel. It was a long walk, and I will continue on that journey so that others may know that freedom as well.

To The Full

Thomas Merton wrote,

“The monk does not come to the monastery to ‘get’ something which the ordinary Christian cannot have. On the contrary, he comes there in order to realize and to appreciate all that any good Christian already has. He comes to live his Christian life, and thus to appreciate to the full his heritage as a son of God. He comes in order that he might see and understand that he already possesses everything.”

This reminds me of what I read and wrote about two weeks ago, at the start of Advent. But I am thick-headed, and know that I need to hear the same things again and again... and again. I am no different from the Pharisees in John 10:6-10,

Jesus used this figure of speech, but the Pharisees did not understand what he was telling them. Therefore Jesus said again, “Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who have come before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

We have everything we need. EVERYTHING. Make use of that abundance, and quit waiting for something else. Step into the life you have.

Savor

(Written one night during my recent trip to Alaska)

As I write this I am sitting at a small desk in front of a window overlooking the Kantishna Valley in Denali National Park in Alaska. The view is simple and completely compelling. A green belt of wilderness spreads out broadly, filling my window, with a river braiding through it in several different directions at once. Birds sing and trill sporadically. Dandelion fuzz floats through the air, glowing and glistening as it reflects the strange solstice sunlight of Alaska. It is 10:20pm, yet with the sun high in the sky, beating down on us with a steady heat, it feels like 5:30 at home on a lazy summer day. What a bizarre effect it is, this never-ending summer light way up north.

I will have difficulty sleeping tonight. Not because the accommodations are not comfortable, or because it is noisy or crowded around me. Instead, I will probably not sleep much because it is so lovely here. I can’t stop looking at it. I can’t stop savoring the view and really, the whole of it all. These are one of the few times in life where you cannot hold on to it tightly enough. As much as I will want this to last for a long while, it simply will not. Like trying to hold onto a fistful of sand, the tighter you squeeze, the more quickly it trickles away. If I try too hard to hang on to this, by taking photos or oohing and ahhing over and over about how beautiful it is, I will actually lose it.

I have one other distinct memory like this. One night, five years ago, I was on a tour of Turkey and Greece, tracing the travels of the Apostle Paul. The trip brought us one night to Assos, just below the ancient city of Troy. Assos is a remote fishing village perched on the Aegean Sea. The tour bus stopped outside the town, and we had to walk in, because the roads, as much as you could call them that, were far too narrow and uneven to allow for a bus. As we stumbled over the cobbles, I thought I’d walked into a time warp. Life had essentially remained the same for centuries.

We ate well that night – fresh baked crusty bread, earthy red wine, an endless array of olives and hummus and feta and lamb and fish and roasted vegetables. I was so outrageously full I could barely breathe. Yet when dessert came, I refused to miss it. It was some sort of baklava, I’m sure, or lovely custard. As I finished, the food coma made me almost dizzy. I clambered up to my tiny little room to go to bed and found the full moon reflecting on the absolutely still Aegean Sea, boring a laser beam right into my room. The moonglow was stunning. I sat at the end of my bed, leaning onto the solid, plastered windowsill almost all night. I simply took it all in -- the water, the moon, the silent night, the soft marine wind, the smells, the timeless nature of the town. I shake my head still as I think about it. It rests in my memory fondly, just as this one from Alaska will, as a complete sensory delight.

This is joy – something so astounding and powerful in the feelings it creates. We cannot help but smile as it wells up in our memory. At the same time, we are slightly shaken. The experience is so strong we can hardly absorb it, and the power of it nearly knocks us over. We are not built to handle its full effect, but it's irresistible! So we squint, inhale deeply and dive in, grateful and thrilled and scared. As C.S. Lewis once wrote, "All joy...emphasizes our pilgrim status; always reminds, beckons, awakens desire. Our best havings are wantings."

These are tastes of heaven. To quote Lewis again, "Joy is the serious business of Heaven." Every so often, ever so briefly, God pulls back the curtain and give us a peek. “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living,” it says in Psalm 27. These deep draughts of eternity are meant to feed us as we press on in the heaviness of now.

Wait for the LORD;

Be strong and let your heart take courage;

Yes, wait for the LORD.

This is how Psalm 27 ends. We are able to wait when we get these glimpses of the "not yet." May I savor them and linger on how deeply they satisfy me. Especially when I have to plod forward through conflict and loss, cancer and fear. This life is not all there is, I will remember. I am meant for more.