Jesus said to Peter the third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ And he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go… Follow me.’
-John 21:15-22
The Universe has a way of signaling to us that a life episode is about to end. Sometimes we read the universe’s signals. We notice a malaise has come over conventional action patterns and thinking. Tasks that used to be simple now baffle us. The fortnight before we sell our home, appliances start breaking, and the inevitable sorrow of approaching goodbyes begins to undermine our appreciation of this moment. This is when we need to pause and drink a double shot of Next. Next. It is the attitude that oils the friction of continuous change. It is how we survive.
But honestly; isn’t denial of an approaching end much easier, for now.
Jesus sees the prophesied end of His ministry in terrifying detail. He longs for his closest friends to share his clarity. It will be painful, terrifying, and miraculous; and at the end, by God’s Grace, the Next belongs to them. Moreover, Jesus will build his church upon Peter’s shoulders; Peter’s understanding is key. This conversation is Peter’s welcome to bootcamp. Now drop and give me ten fisherman!
Despite the needling repetition of His interrogation of Peter, it is Jesus’ metaphor of being wrapped in a belt in youth and in old age is the image that haunts me today.
The conclusion of my time in the Navy crept up on me while I was lost in routine. Our ship was officially off patrol, but still far out in the Pacific Ocean. Ron Weese, my best friend had been notified that his father was dying of cancer in Atlanta. Similarly, another close friend, Joe Richards was stricken with kidney stones. The U. S. Navy made the decision to med-evac Ron and Joe at sea. This involved barely surfacing at dawn, lifting Ron and Joe from the missile deck onto a Navy helicopter, then quietly slipping back beneath the surface. As ship’s photography officer, it was my task to photograph the operation from the missile deck.
The ship rolled port and starboard ten degrees in the morning swells. It was going to be difficult to stay vertical, let alone operate two cameras in the emotional noise of my profound insignificance on the slippery deck. As the dark blue swells rolled past my knees; I realized, my life was changing by the second. In the turbulent din of the helicopter above, I realized my two best friends were about to be lifted into the morning mist and I never got to say goodbye, I never got to articulate what it meant to rely on one another for safety and impeccable performance, with life-threatening consequences. I never got to thank them for the laughter. In four days, I would fly from Guam to New Orleans to be a student of Architecture, and I might not even snap one photo to remember the end of a personal era.
I felt a rap on my shoulder. “Moran!” The ship’s Navigator, my superior officer, was behind me flapping his arms like a penguin. I lifted my arms, and he wrapped a line around my waist and pulled tight. It was the third point of contact I needed for stability.
Sometimes submitting to another, offering a belt of stability is what it takes to guide us back our Next, a place we thought we did not want to go. That person can be a mentor, a protegee, or our God. For me, most often that person leading me to correct places where I didn’t want to go, has been my wife. And for that, I am grateful from next to next.
Musical Reflection - Over the Rainbow - Loren Allred
Lord you see all and know all. Whisper to us the substance of our Next; and help us to be open to the guides you send to lead us from Next to you. Amen.
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