Astronauts and LIVING unseen

Do you ever have days when it feels like no one really knows who you are? As if you and the things you do are invisible to the people whose paths you cross—at work or school or even home?
I thought of this recently when I heard a story about the first walk on the moon. I remember well huddling around our television with my family in 1969 and hearing those famous words: That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind. Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong soon became household names, our heroes who brokered the hope that anything is possible. 

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​This story, however, was about the third man on that mission, Michael Collins, an astronaut most of us have never heard of. While Aldrin and Armstrong took their famous moon walk, Collins was manning the mother-ship, orbiting around the moon alone for some 21 hours. For 48 minutes of every hour, Collins circled the dark side of the moon outside of all human contact. When the time was right, Collins performed the perilous task of picking up and safely securing Aldrin and Armstrong for the return trip to earth. It is no understatement to say that Apollo 11 would never have achieved its mission without Collins. Yet to most of the world to this day, he remains hidden, unseen, and unknown.

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,​Hidden…unseen…unknown. These have become buzz words in the influencer culture of our day. It’s as if our lonely angst, fueled by a cacophony of virtual voices that cannot deliver what we need, has generated a collective cry—does anyone know me? Does anyone see me? Does anyone care? 

​Navigating my senior years (ugh—that feels painful to write) brings many challenges, but also provides a perspective that is worth its weight in gold. It is simply this: No matter what contribution I might make, no matter how seen or known I might feel in any given moment, no one will remember me in 50 years. Rather than setting me back, this reality has unleashed in me a joyful lightness of being. I see things differently now.

For example, several times a week I drive by a church building that used to bear the name New Hope Church. That edifice represents an investment that consumed my thoughts and dreams and kingdom work for 38 years. It is now home to a group of people who love Jesus, but to whom I am unseen and unknown. Though the memories are still strong and passing by can feel bittersweet, two resounding truths settle my soul and fill me with gratitude.

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First, whatever I build in my life is only possible because someone else said “yes” to God’s call long before I did. When I look at that building, I remember a man named Don McGregor who lived in the area and prayed relentlessly for a church until we came. I think of my Aunt Naomi who first challenged me to fall in love with Jesus. Her ashes, now scattered on the roof are a testament to faithfulness—hers and God’s. 

I planted and Apollos watered…Paul wrote, reminding us that in the end, God alone gives the growth (1 Corinthians 3:6). Our being seen or known seems less important when we consider the host of others who paved the way for us to bring our widow’s mite into the treasury of God’s kingdom.   
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I am also humbled by the wonder that when I don’t see God’s promises fulfilled, I may be making a way for someone else’s fruitfulness. Through our faith journey, God provides something better for those to come, whether or not they ever know our names (Hebrews 11:40). I am a link in the chain of God’s glorious plan from one generation to another, and this astounds me.

​The greatest treasure, however, is that the God who made me, who knows me better than I know myself, takes joy in the tiniest acts of service I might perform on any given day. This mystery, that I can bring pleasure to the One who sees and loves me every moment of every day is the passion that drives me. C.S. Lewis called it a weight of glory:

​​So it is. This weight or burden of glory is the brilliance of God’s smile when his face shines on me. It is the elixir of my life and nothing else comes close to the wonder. I wish I had the words…


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IN THE NEXT BLOG...I know that receiving God's delight is easier said than done. I will unpack some things that keep us from the wonder of experiencing his pleasure in my next blog.