This year, I decided to do my Mexico mission trip updates in the style of the apostle Paul’s letters.
Today, I feel I got my own version of another Paul-style adventure in my conversation with a “Macedonian crab,” as it were, at Seaport Village in San Diego.
I was sitting on the ledge overlooking the ocean, Baja-colored rocks beneath my feet. I sat and listened to the water crash over the rocks creating that familiar, soothing lull; that healing ebb and flow that is, for me, God’s grace made tangible.
Suddenly, I was transported in my mind, carried there on the waves of memory by lulling water and shining sun:
to the dusty, rocky cliffs overlooking the ocean at Camalu; to the giant rock formation jutting out over the perilous jagged rocks and crushing ocean waves of Erendira.
That’s when I saw him, a familiar little critter, climb up onto the largest rock and wave at me. S: “What up, Crab? How’s life?”
C: “It’s cool.”
C: “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘ that crab looks like he’s from Erendira. We used to have crab fights there.”
S: “As a matter of fact, you’re correct. Though I want it known that by ‘we’ I mean teen mission trip boys. I had nothing to do with the crab fights.”
C: “Beside the point…”
S: “The point being…?”
C: ” You were correct too. I am from Erendira. And we remember you. Despite your great fear, your silly unfounded fear that Errndira and Camalu and all of Baja will forget you, we know something you don’t know. Or refuse to know, or don’t yet know how to know.
We know this: God made you for lots of things, to champion many causes, to love many people. But mostly, God made you for us. Just for us. That’s why we don’t sweat it as much as you do. We know you’ll be back for real one day. And I think, deep down, you know it too.
S: I think so too.
C: So quit worrying. Give everything you have to what you’re doing now and set aside a little of that energy for us. Eventually, it’ll pay off big.
S: Thabks, Crab.
And then he waved goodbye and let himself be swept off back into the sea.