It was Easter morning, the first time I’d ever decided to “get up and go to church.” I wasn’t sure I belonged, but when the preacher said, “He is risen” I joined in on the reply, “He is risen indeed!” I wasn’t certain it was true, but I wanted it to be. Did that count?
I’d made a leap of faith, yet still had doubts. So the following year I went on a pilgrimage. After leading a field study program in England, I hitchhiked to the Swiss Alps. To be clear, I booked a ferry across the Channel (hitchhiking on the ocean is iffy), then hitchhiked to a Swiss learning community called L’Abri (“Shelter”). Why? Because Francis Schaeffer, famous for his rigorous, intellectual approach to faith, lived and lectured there, along with a number of other well-regarded teachers.
I arrived, hungry to have my doubts assuaged. Instead, I learned the community was on its annual housekeeping retreat. The charming chalets were closed, and all of the teachers, including Dr. Schaeffer, were gone.
I was disappointed, to say the least, and quickly running out of money. So I rented a mattress in a hayloft at a nearby farm. No Heidi, no adorable goats, just pigs. But the smell wasn’t bad. Until they opened the sliding doors to the pigpens. Then the piggy perfume permeated every pore of my body, making me want to jump off the nearest cliff mid-yodel.
So that night I huddled in the fresh alpine air at a bonfire along with the dozen or so other spiritually hungry intellectuals who’d arrived the wrong week. We began to share our stories of yearning and doubt. An Iranian agnostic, a dissatisfied Turkish atheist, an Indian from a town founded by St. Thomas, a self-loathing Scottish teacher who alluded to having committed some “unforgiveable act,” a depressed Japanese grad student… All had questions, none had answers. Except, it seemed, me.
To my surprise, I had honest, if imperfect, answers. I told the Scot about the heinous crimes of King David, “a man after God’s own heart.” I spoke to the Iranian about the character of a God who not only could be known, but wanted to be known. I seemed to have responses that made sense to them. Ones I hadn’t even realized I had.
So I spent the next two nights leading an ad hoc seminar, surrounded by breathtaking examples of God’s artistry: mountains and souls. We argued, laughed, bonded, and worshiped in completely unorthodox ways—God’s favorite form—until late each night.
Three days later, I left feeling strangely satisfied. Not all of my questions had been answered. But somehow, the one that really mattered —
That one had.
Mitch Teemley 
Hallelujah! Precious…
LikeLiked by 1 person
WOW. Amazing how much we learn answering other people’s questions. This is a good argument against waiting until you know it all to start sharing what you do know … (Ignorance never stopped ME, lol.)
LikeLiked by 2 people
;>) Nor me, Annie.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cool story, Mitch. Did you keep in touch with any of the other adventurers? ♥.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No, I’m afraid I didn’t. Wish I had!
LikeLiked by 1 person
They say the best way to learn something is to teach it. Great story!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a wonderful story well told, Mitch. Thank you for sharing it! L’Abri always makes me think of Larry Norman’s song, “Fly, Fly, Fly”… in which he sings, “…we’ll honeymoon in Haifa, have lunch in Galilee, we’ll hitchhike up to Switzerland and stop in at L’Abri…”
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ah, Larry. I so loved those early albums of his.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a wonderful story. My best learning almost always happens when I am teaching.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Mine too Russ. Though I think that may have been the first time I experienced it, at least at the Holy Spirit-assisted level.
LikeLike
I love this. You are right, the most important question is “Am I acceptable to God”. Does my faith even with all my doubts and failings count? Whats more amazing is we often don’t realise how much we believe till we share. I guess that’s why community and service are so important.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No Heidi? Oh well, there are enough of those over here 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
;>)
LikeLike
The best answer is a really good question.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yep.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a great memory!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Things like that don’t just happen, they are orchestrated by His hand.
You have been blessed in many ways.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, the sheer fatalness of it all struck me, even at the time. I could almost hear God whispering, “This should be fun.”
LikeLiked by 2 people
This is wonderful, so uplifting!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yesss!! Teaching teaches US!! And in giving we receive!! You were born to teach!! That exhilaration was you walking out your God given purpose!! What a wonderful God appointment!!
Thank you for sharing this!
Peach
LikeLiked by 1 person
‘L’abri’ actually means shelter or home.
Freedom in french is liberté.
It seems to me “shelter or home” goes better with your story than “freedom”.
Welcome home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Stefan, I misremembered. I’ve corrected it.
LikeLike
I love the descriptive words you use. Isn’t it marvelous how we uniquely connect with God?!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Mitch,
What a great experience. Isn’t that awesome how we get direction and our hunger of the Lord satisfied when we let Him use us? I hope those awesome days will bring much fruit.
In Christ,
Gary
LikeLiked by 1 person