Back in 1976, when I was 12, I attended a K-8 Lutheran school. My sixth-grade class was planning a mission trip over a long weekend down to Tijuana Mexico. This was exciting for me for a couple of reasons. First, TJ, as we referred to it back then, had some of the best illegal fireworks, and I couldn’t wait to get down there and buy some. Secondly, I knew that they had switchblade knives for sale, which are illegal, but even though I couldn’t buy one, I still wanted to look at them. The third reason was that my sixth-grade crush, Karen Hukee, was going to be on the same trip. Maybe this was my opportunity to make a move.
The plan was to meet up early Saturday morning at the school and then we would get into vans and head down South. All of us were instructed to bring a bag of groceries which we could donate to the orphanage where we were headed. I remember having a big shopping bag, full of green Palmolive dish detergent, some paper towels, and a few other cleaning supplies.
When my dad dropped me off, he seemed in a hurry to leave. Apparently, my mom and him were going to be gone that weekend and so I would be picked up by my grandpa at the end of that day, then me and my younger brother would spend the weekend over there.
When my dad had disappeared out of the parking lot, I walked over to the vans that were assembled. What struck me was that none of my friends were there. Instead, there was a big group of college kids. I didn’t bother to ask, assuming that they would be on the trip as chaperones, so I set my bag of groceries down and they told me to follow them into a classroom.
This was my first clue something was off.
One of the guys got up and said a prayer before we left. One of the lines of the prayer caught my attention.
“Dear Lord bless us as we go to the mountains today and spend time together.”
This should have been my second clue.
As far as I knew, there were no mountains down in TJ. It was right on the coast. I wanted to say something, but I was too embarrassed. I got into the van figuring I was the only one that decided to go and we got onto Interstate 5, headed North.
I was old enough to know that Mexico is the opposite direction, but I was too afraid to speak up.
Finally, about an hour into the trip. I asked the driver,
“Hey, are we going to Mexico?”
He laughed and said we were going up to the San Bernardino mountains for the day. He said they thought it was kind of strange that I had a bag of cleaning supplies and no food. The driver pulled over and found a pay phone and called my grandma who panicked. He told her that I would be ready to be picked up at the same time, and I spent the day with a bunch of college kids.
It was one of the longest days of my life, because I had no friends, and they did their own thing, so I basically sat by myself. The ride home was even longer. But I learned a valuable lesson.
Sometimes when something seems off, you need to speak up and say something. Had I spoken up before we even got in the van, my day would’ve been so different. On the other hand, I wonder why those college kids didn’t ask “hey, what is the kid doing on our college getaway day?” When nobody asks questions, people just assume that somebody else has thought everything through. As it turns out, the trip to TJ was cancelled on Friday night, but when they called our house, nobody picked up. These were the days before voicemail. Shortly after fire was discovered I think.
This week, think about some of the unknown situations maybe you’re too afraid to ask about. If right now you seem to be on a path that doesn’t feel quite right, I’m going to challenge you to stop right there and evaluate where you’re at.
Five years later, when I was a junior in high school, my philosophy teacher (yeah, I went to a college prep high school) Dr. Bahnsen told us a story about leaving things at the Ramada Inn.
That summer he and his wife and kids took a road trip. They were driving cross country. They spent the night in a city and the next morning got in the car and were about 100 miles down the road when his wife realized she left her purse at the Ramada Inn. He was so angry that he stepped on the gas and kept going faster. She kept telling him he needed to turn around, but he was so angry that he kept driving for another hour, knowing full well he’d have to make a U-turn, but he was so frustrated he couldn’t help himself,
Dr. Bahnsen told us the analogy was don’t leave things at the Ramada Inn. If you know what needs to be fixed, do it sooner rather than later, if you know a question needs to be asked, ask it sooner rather than later. If you do nothing, you will just endure the consequences of what is presented before you.
This week, think about some ways that you can begin to clear the clutter of assumptions and things that don’t seem to make sense for you. Ask yourself what would happen if we didn’t do something. What would happen if I decided to sever a particular relationship?
Tough questions don’t get easier by waiting for an answer to magically appear. Maybe this is the week we all get some clarity.
What do you think?