Searching: When the Journey Becomes Part of the Answer

I'm reading In the Shelter: Finding a home in the world, by Padraig O' Tuama. It got me thinking about the formation of my own worldview.

L'Abri Switzerland, Photo Credit: Tasha Janzen

I was in my early twenties, working at a small osteopathic hospital. Like many of that age group, who had grown up in the 60s, I was haplessly trying to find my way in the world. To the point of deciding to quit my job and find God.

The hospital had recently opened up a human resources department and hired a person just as young as myself to staff it. His name was Gary and he was a bit perplexed the day I walked into his office and told him, "I'm going to quit."

Of course, Gary asked me "why?" I told him, "Because I need to find God."

His advice was, "You don't have to quit your job to do that Dan."

I naively told him, "Yes, I do."

An ER nurse, who was a good friend, had given me information about L'Abri a place nestled in the French-speaking Swiss Alps. It was started over sixty years ago by Francis and Edith Schaeffer for young people with honest theological questions.  Although the Schaeffer's were Christians - Francis wrote a few books focused on apologetics - L'Abri ( French for "the shelter,") was very welcoming, biblical but non-denominational. 

So, I contacted them and off I went; my first experience of traveling outside of the U.S. Without much planning or forethought, especially considering it involved a certain job change and I wasn't independently wealthy.

After landing in Geneva, as the gate attendant cheerfully greeted me with, "le Volia!," while taking my passport, I realized I only spoke English.

This was very relevant as L'Abri was located in Huemoz. The closest real town is Aigle. Huemoz has a population of about 6,700; Aigle's population is closer to 8,500. Both towns were the opposite of cosmopolitan, and most people living in them didn't speak much English.

Getting off the train at Huemoz, I caught the bus to Aigle and then started saying the word "L'Abri?" to anyone who looked sympathetically at me. People pointed me towards a road leading into the mountains. And, at one point, a kindly grandmotherly native nodded when I asked, "L' Abri?" indicating it was right up the path I was on.

Sometimes life is at its best when it's non-directional.

I had no map. No command of the language. Knew nothing about the culture. Totally dependent on other humans to point me in the right direction. What was amazing was that an almost complete lack of planning had landed me in the exact spot I was supposed to be.

At L'Abri, for half of the day you worked - either outside in the large vegetable garden - or inside. I chose to work outside in the sunny weather of summer in Switzerland, surrounded by mountain views.

There were maybe 30 of us fellow searchers at L'Abri, excluding older adult staff. Less than half of us were from the U.S. and since we had meals in common, it was a great, natural opportunity to meet people engaged in the journey.

I remember one lunch spent chatting with a woman from India who told me about her sorrow because she was going to have an arranged marriage. I asked many questions about that. I don't remember if she mentioned what faith she held, but it was evident that her marriage situation was foremost on her mind.

The second half of the day was spent in a combination of lectures and an opportunity to ask questions. One lecture remains in my mind. A writer talked about his work, and then made the (paraphrased) statement: "Without God in what you're doing, what you're doing doesn't matter much."

His point was made in a very kind way. 

Now, nearly 50 years later, the L'Abri experience taught me how fully sheltered I actually was during my time there. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened, except for being covered by the extraordinary kindness of strangers. 

I didn't come home convinced that I had "found God." But I don't remember being disappointed. 

Padraig O'Tuama/Photo Credit: Trevor Brady

Padraig O'Tuama offers this poem, titled Narrative theology #1  from In The Shelter:

And I said to him:
Are there answers to all of this?
And he said:
The answer is in a story
and the story is being told.

And I said:
But there is so much pain
And she answered, plainly:
Pain will happen.

Then I said:
Will I ever find meaning?
And they said:
You will find meaning

where you give meaning.

The answer is in a story
and the story isn't finished.

Sidenote: To be clear, I'm not advocating a life free from any kind of planning. Plans are necessary and helpful. The point of my story isn't about planning at all, but rather, about focusing on the beauty, fragility and wonder of the journey.