In 1754, English author Horace Walpole coined one of the most delightful words in the English language. He formed it after reading a Persian fairy tale titled, The Three Princes of Serendip. Throughout the story the princes kept discovering, 鈥渂y accidents and sagacity鈥� things which they were not in quest of鈥︹�� Ever since, the word serendipity has been used to describe those unexpected jewel-like experiences of finding or learning something valuable when you weren鈥檛 even hunting for it.
An overstuffed life doesn鈥檛 have much room for moments like that. We鈥檝e answered the call (honorable as it is) to live purpose driven, goal centered, mission oriented lives, but in so doing many of us have shoved serendipity to the brink of extinction. Sadly, God more frequently teaches us through serendipity than he does through schedule, and often we never even know we missed him.
It happens to me too, until something shakes me awake. If I lose the serendipity, I lose much of what God wants to teach me. If I can鈥檛 hear God, my spirit dries up. If my spirit dries up, I have nothing to give anyone else. If I have nothing to give anyone else, I (and my words) become merely one more source of meaningless patter.
So I鈥檓 learning to listen more to the call to live more loosely, in the sense that I need to make room for the unscheduled and unplanned; room to be inconvenienced even. Like the day Alex and Donovan came over a few years ago, when we still had a dog.
The preschoolers, relatives of neighbours, never came to see me. They came for the pets, often tethered on the front porch. One day I heard their enthusiastic voices from my office, where I sat writing. I could have stayed at my desk. Ordinarily I may have. Instead, I went out to say hello. While Alex and I chatted, Donovan wandered over to the front flower garden where a small painted rock sat atop a larger, plain one. The painted rock read 鈥淕rown with Love鈥�.
He stood for some time staring at it. Finally he turned to me, pointed to the rock, and demanded, 鈥淲ho died in this house?鈥� Because, after all, when you only have four years of life experience and you can鈥檛 read, letters on a stone surrounded by flowers may mean only one thing 鈥� somebody鈥檚 under there, and he鈥檚 dead. I kept a straight face long enough to read him the rock and explain, but the laughter wouldn鈥檛 stay dammed after that. I hope he didn鈥檛 mind.
But Donovan鈥檚 question got me thinking. I wondered how I would have answered if Jesus had visited that afternoon and asked the same thing. 鈥淲ho has died in this house?鈥� Followers of Jesus, you see, live as though God鈥檚 interests are more important than their own. In Christianese, we call that 鈥渄ying to self.鈥� And self doesn鈥檛 die easily - at least not this person鈥檚 self. Donovan鈥檚 question called me back; reminded me to put God鈥檚 agenda before my own, so others see Him before they see me.
See what I mean? Loosen up and Gods provides a teachable moment. Serendipity. I鈥檓 glad I didn鈥檛 miss Him.
