Word of Wisdom: Discovery
“Greater even than the greatest discovery is to keep open the way to future discovery.” John Jacob Abel
When I was young, my answers to the annual grade school project of “what I want to be when I grow up” were fairly typical, and consistent: astronaut, fireman, professional athlete, in alternating order depending on the year.
But as I got into middle school and my career planning matured a bit, my vision clarified and became more specific in detail. Taking into account my own aptitudes and the broad opportunities available in the wide world, I realized what I truly wanted to be when I grew up.
I wanted to be Indiana Jones.
Essentially, I concluded that “being Dr. Jones” would provide all the things I wanted in a career: Ivy-covered campuses through the week, international adventures on nights and weekends. Flexible academic post—check. Swashbuckling heroism—check. Lots of treasure maps, archaic libraries, and secret passageways—check, check, check.
Oh, and beat the bad guys while rescuing the damsel in distress? Sign me up for that gig.
I had somewhat forgotten this childhood dream as I progressed into and through adulthood, but it had a tendency to pierce the fog at times and re-enter my consciousness, usually connected to a film reference, but sometimes to a life circumstance—to wit, tracking down sites connected to the films while traveling (pop quiz: in what movie does the cathedral in the photo above appear? Hint: ‘X marks the spot’.)
In these film aficionado versions of treasure hunts, I realized that one of the main draws for me of Indy’s example—even more than the mild-mannered professor/roguish treasure hunter superhero motif—was the finding of lost and forgotten things. Artifacts, locations, messages and meanings—Dr. Jones uncovered them all. And usually, it was a literal uncovering, because valuable things tend to get buried over time.
As in archeology, so too in our lives.
A common theme in midlife is the loss of things that once were—activities, relationships, hopes, dreams, even memories. As time passes and demands press, the things that once provided spark to life become dimmed; the artifacts of youthful vigor are lost and buried.
It’s why the business of nostalgia is a multi-billion dollar industry…and why the midlife crisis is often about reverting back to a manufactured youth instead of progressing into a richer maturity.
This “burying” of true elements of our existence and experience was highlighted for me a couple of years ago at a Canyon Pathways retreat. A brother in his mid-40s joined me for a catch, which I was excited about for two reasons: 1) I don’t get to put the mitts on that often, and 2) I knew that he played college baseball, so we’d really be able to rip it. After our shoulders eventually gave out, I told him how lucky he was to be able to do this often.
Though he had a teenage son who was an athlete, he replied: “Dude, I haven’t done this in over a decade.”
In a way, it made me happier, because I saw him outside of that cabin joyfully zinging the ball with a little skip step that was obviously natural to him, almost like breathing. Yet, that “breathing” hadn’t been experienced in years. Our retreat, in that moment, breathed something about his person back to life.
It’s those parts of us that are awaiting discovery in this season of our life and leadership. How? Let’s look to the word itself.
To discover something is often associated with the initial finding or inventing of a place or thing. Discovery, then, becomes the outcome of some effort to bravely sally forth into perilous projects with the mission of producing something or somewhere new, never before known or experienced.
That common denotative sense misses an aspect of the word that is hiding in plain sight. To discover something is, quite literally, to dis-cover it—to remove a cover, be it a physical mound of dirt or a psychological seal veiling the thing from the light of day. Not a bringing forth of something entirely new into existence, but uncovering the things that are already there, but lost.
Just like an Indiana Jones adventure, many things of value in our lives become buried by the cares, fears, regrets, and griefs of life, and yet lie hidden in the caves and chambers of our heart simply waiting to be dis-covered.
Certainly there are obstacles—aside from dirt and darkness, Indy inevitably had to dodge and defeat snakes, spiders, and rats (not to mention Nazis) to bring the treasured thing back into human experience. We, too, face wounds, sin, and an Accuser at every turn. But where Hollywood provides just a whip, a revolver, and fedora, a good father supplies everything needed for the journey of discovery.
And we are sons of such a Father.
We are promised, as sons and heirs who are no longer servants but are now called friends, that not only will he not leave us nor forsake us on the journey into the deep places of mind and heart, but he will supply everything we need to dig out and free up the springs of life that have become blocked. What we cannot do, he will do for us, if we will only ask.
But not only does he provide all that is needed, he also understands that these losses, these burials, these needs for dis-covery will occur in his sons’ lives. He knows that the ancient sabbath of rest will be lost and forgotten, and that in our new freedom rest will need to be codified in our hearts. He knows that the ark of his presence will be lost, and need to be found. He knows that his Word will be covered and hidden as time passes, and need to be discovered. He knows that the joy and love of our youth will flicker in the winds of later days, and need to be revived.
We can take courage that there is nothing new under the sun—we are inheritors of the continuous process of dis-covering anew the blessings and anointings the sons have received from the Father.
Moreover, we can expect that the seemingly overwhelming onslaught of damage and debris in life will pose a constant threat to the joy that is our strength. It’s baked into the word itself; the Latin root consists of dis- (“opposite of”) and cooperire—meaning “to cover”, “to bury”…”to overwhelm”.
But we have a Father who shields us when the enemies of our peace come in like a flood, so that we can not only walk through the canyon without fear, but dig into the canyons of our heart to unearth the treasures life and leadership have overwhelmed. And through fellowship with one another, as a son among other sons of the same Father, we find the counsel and care we need in our discovery.
So we don’t go digging in the wrong place.
“When he discovered a pearl of great value, he sold everything he owned and bought it!” Matthew 13:46 NLT