I like to describe Alaska this way:
In Florida, you look up at the sky and see clouds and, if it’s the middle of summer, those clouds might be grayish-green clouds that tower overhead, fuming and ready to spit, or they might be simple puffballs, drifting along the horizon.
In Alaska, you look up at the sky and see clouds … and then your eyes adjust and you realize those aren’t clouds at all. Those are mountains, the largest, grandest, most mouth-dropping, awe-inspiring mountains you have ever seen, with snow-capped, craggy peaks that give way to green pines at the base. And through some of these mountains, massive blue glaciers dig their way through the earth, churning up dirt and debris that burrow in each crevasse.
There were times in Alaska when I would spend hours just staring out over the water, mesmerized, captivated by everything I saw.
And here’s the thing.
I almost missed out on seeing any of it.
My uncle had invited me on an Alaskan cruise and my grandmother was so convinced I wouldn’t get on the plane to fly out there, she packed her own bags, ready to take my place.
She wasn’t completely wrong. Alaska was farther away from home than I had ever been. I was terrified.
In the end, though, I got on the plane and I'm glad I did.
I made it to Alaska.
I almost didn’t make it to Hope Episcopal. I was so nervous. I had picked Easter for my first visit. I knew there would be a lot of people there. I had never been to an Episcopal Church. I figured the service would be similar to what I had experienced in the Catholic Church, but what if it wasn’t? What if I messed up or said the wrong words?
I confess that I parked unnecessarily far away from the church that first visit. I was probably closer to the road than to the church. I think I was preparing for a quick exit.
God obviously had other plans for me.
As soon as I walked into the church, all fear and worry disappeared … all gone in an instant. God had asked me to go to church and I had said yes even though silly worries had almost kept me home.
Joan Chittister writes in Called to Question that religion “requires us to be more than we ever thought we could become.” I would take that a step further and say that God requires us to be more than we ever thought we could become. And honestly, who knows us better than God?
It’s become a mission of mine at Hope Episcopal to say yes to things that worry and self-doubt would have previously caused me to answer no to.
So I go from being the person who used to sit in the very back of church behind the concrete pillar where no one could see me and I couldn’t even see the priest or the pastor … to the person who fills out the yellow card with my name and address and checks the box that says “contact me.”
God changes you each time you say yes.
And each Sunday, I find myself parking my car closer and closer to the church.
