Surprise

Immediately upon arrival to the Chicago airport and the world of fast internet, I called my mom using FaceTime since I didn’t have a phone that worked in the United States. “Mom, I’m in America!” 

She squealed with delight. She is always the first one I call, even though this year was a little different in that she wouldn’t be the first one I would see. Or so I thought. 

After a year in Africa, I was flying into my hometown of Little Rock which is no longer where my parents live. There, I would do three weeks of visiting and reporting before seeing my family for Thanksgiving. 

However, I was in for a great surprise when Mom panned the phone around to show me who she was with - her best friend who lives in Little Rock. 

“What? This means that...that...” I was speechless and almost didn’t want to say it for fear of being wrong. 

“I’m in Little Rock!” She exclaimed. 

And sure enough, just when I thought that I wouldn’t get to see my mom for three weeks after my arrival to the U.S., there she was waiting at the airport for me as always.

That evening I wrote a message to some of my teammates in Burkina Faso, just to let them know that I arrived safe and sound. I even explained that my mom had surprised me by flying into my hometown the same day just so she could greet me at the airport. One of my teammates quickly responded joyfully to my text. I love what he wrote back: “I am convinced that God has prepared many other surprises for you.” 

The idea of surprises got me thinking. Kids love surprises. Adults normally don’t. Why? What changes? Maybe it’s because we adults like control and surprises rock the comfortable boat of familiarity and control. Perhaps some of us had a bad experience with surprises somewhere along the way and now we fear that the surprise won’t be what we want. Or we fear our response to it. Like we fear the surprise won’t be good. We don’t like to be unprepared. 

But the Word of God teaches that we must have the faith of a child to enter the kingdom of heaven. Could it be that one way to show the faith of a child is to return to the childlike trust that loves a God of surprises? To have the faith of a child is to trust that all God’s surprises are good because he is a good father and he gives good gifts to those who ask.

I watch a child receive a gift that he wasn’t expecting and I see the look of pure delight and gratitude on his face. I think, I want to be more like that. Then I also look at the face of the parent who gives the surprise, and I see the explosion of pure and joyful love. And I think, God must be like that. 

The great thing about our God of surprises is that he himself is never surprised. This is a simple way of saying that he is sovereign. In control. Knowing all things. Reigning over all things. Nothing is outside of his knowledge, awareness, power, or authority. Nothing. This means that what is unknown (or a surprise) to us is completely known to him, and that gives me incredible comfort. You could call it a predestined surprise. It’s kind of an oxymoron, but it works. We get to be surprised, and he never has to be. Both sides of that coin bring us assurance and joy. 

All you have to do is look at a child who just got surprised to see that good surprises always bring amazement, wonder, and awe. We need more of that in our walks with God, don’t we? Want to increase your awe and amazement of God? Want more wonder and wow? Ask him for a surprise. 

I’ve been quite focused lately on what’s next in my life and how I don’t know it. I keep asking God where he wants me to go and what he wants me to do, but I sense him saying like an excited father to his daughter, it’s a surprise! God is teaching me to be completely comfortable in the unknown. I don’t want to just shrug my shoulders like I don’t care, but I want to snuggle down into it the same way I snuggle into my hammock with a blanket at sunrise and watch the dawn take over the darkness. I’m so comfortable there. In the unknown. It’s going to be a surprise. 

I still don’t know what the future holds. I used to say I don’t know what my next destination is. But actually I do. For the destination is not a geographical place or a country or a city. The secret is here in Psalm 43:3. 

“Send out your light and your truth. Let them lead me. Let them bring me to your holy dwelling.” 

The destination is his holy dwelling. His temple. His presence. So the destination - the “what’s next” - isn’t Africa or France or America. It’s more and more of his presence. That’s where I’m headed. And the unknown is what takes me there.