A Gift

A little reflection from my recent ravels in two parts. PART 2 will come next week.

PART 1:

It was five am local time. The time zone was 8 hours ahead of my own familiar Pacific Standard Time. Back home it would be 9 pm. The early morning light streamed into my first story window (second story window in US nomenclature). I found myself in legendary Oxford, England and my course with The Oxford Center for Christian Apologetics intensive---the closing three days---would start at 8:30 am. The weather from my window looked to be typical British summer, which meant ‘plan for rain in any case’. My husband lay sleeping contentedly beside me. The complimentary breakfast would not be available until 6:30. I should go back to sleep---but I couldn’t. I was wide awake, nerved up and excited for my class. For 8 months we’d met online for 3 hours weekly, and I’d come to know them better. This would be the culmination of hours of lectures, study, reading, and assignments. It was a short walk to the class from my hotel, and I had loads of time.

Get up, a voice urged. Go outside. Our hotel was on Broad Street, steps away from the iconic Sheldonian Theatre, the Bodleian Library, The Bridge of Sighs, Blackwell’s Bookstore, Balliol College, the History of Science Museum, and the Martyr’s Memorial. In the center of the street a simple stone-laid cross memorializes the spot where Hugh Latimer and Nicolas Ridley were burnt at the stake for their faith in the 1500’s, notable martyrs who gave their lives in that tumultuous time.

That’s crazy I told the voice. Not a soul was stirring. Why get up? All by myself? What would I do? After arguing with the voice for a round or two, I decided it was nothing but laziness preventing me. I got up, dressed and stepped outside. The sky now was clear and blue—no rain threatened. The air was crisply fresh. Absolutely no one was on the street, not even service people. A few loud birds cawed and squawked from the top of a roof. I was literally the only human in the city centre of Oxford. As I sauntered past the familiar yet intimidating landmarks, I wondered. What was I to do? I felt lured to come here, but to what end?

Being a 21^st century automaton, I snapped pictures of all the places, sometimes including my self. It felt as if I should be contemplating deep thoughts, but nothing of any import came. It was as if I had all of Oxford at my command, captured by my attention. I must make good use of this, I thought, lashing my will to a sense of obligation, subservience even. Whenever God calls you to some obedient step, isn’t it usually that he has a job for you? Maybe even a crucial lesson to learn, something to prepare me for the class ahead? Perhaps I could even pat myself on the back for having obeyed what I thought I heard. Still, nothing. No weighty truths fell upon me, not even a scripture verse. It was simply a delight just to be. To be and to experience being in this place. It was a rare gift.

But surely I must do something to earn it. What was I to contemplate, what task could I take on, how should I use this for good in the world? It was too big a gift to simply take.

I stepped back inside the automatic doors of the hotel and the voice came again.

I just wanted to give you a gift.

Reader, I took it.