When translated, "La Vida" means "the life." A lesser-known but equally valid translation is "12-day camping trip that will stretch every physical and psychological muscle in your body, causing you to simultaneously regret and love every sweat-soaked moment." At least, for Gordon College students, that's what it means.
I was lying down on a slanted foam pad in a sleeping bag that smelled like feet. Mosquitoes and flies buzzed around my head, but unfortunately, I had used the provided bug net as a bag for my wet socks earlier in the week. Unless I wanted to gag the entire night, wearing it would not be an option. I hadn't eaten in around 50 hours. Forty percent of my body was covered in an astonishingly inflamed rash. I was exhausted but couldn't fall asleep, hungry with nothing to eat, and itchy with more bugs coming to the feast that was my face. I grimaced as I remembered the prayer I had muttered in an air-conditioned room just a week before. "Lord, help this experience to push me out of my comfort zone. Challenge me and make uncomfortable so that I can draw closer to you." I had asked and the Lord had given unto me. "You want discomfort? OK Porter, whatever you say," chuckled God.
During the final days on my college's La Vida expedition, my food-deprived, poison-ivy-laden body was more uncomfortable than it ever had been before (minus the time I fractured my wrist, but at least I was able to shower when that happened!). It was hard, at points brutally so. And yet, I have never been more satisfied with any experience before in my life. La Vida truly was "the life." Why? What made this experience so enriching, worth every second of stench and itch? First answer: the people. I was blessed with an amazing team of 11 people who entered into the week as strangers and left as deep friends. We supported each other and challenged each other and I am sure I would not have grown nearly as much without my amazing team (Mountain 4!). The second and perhaps even more important answer is this: the God of the universe and a wheelbarrow.
I am not an outdoors person. Therefore, the prospect of being outside 24/7 did not necessarily excite me as I headed onto the trip. But God sustained me through it. Some days, the hikes were so long and my legs were so sore that I didn't think I could make it. But God sustained me through it. Some days I felt like throwing my positive attitude into the river and complaining incessantly. But God gave me the strength to (at least externally) stay smiling. And of course on the solo, with a rash the size of Wyoming and a stomach emptier than a college student's wallet, I didn't think I could make it through a 60-hour fast. But God sustained me through it.
On La Vida, I was thrust into a constant state of uncertainty and discomfort which led me to a constant state of relying on God. Back in the real world, I am usually pretty comfortable. And thus, I rely on myself instead of my Heavenly Father. But if I could experience trust in God by leaving my comfort zone on La Vida, why can't I do that on a daily basis? Spending time in prayer rather than watching TV. Talking to people who disagree with me. Sharing the good news of the Gospel to those who may be hostile to it. Humbling myself to be a more respectful and obedient son. None of these things come easily to me so I usually avoid them. Yet I know that these things, though difficult, are exactly what God calls me to do. He calls me to pick up my cross daily and follow him. That's tough stuff, some may even say impossible. But God will sustain me through it.
Here is something I read while on my La Vida journey. The following is an excerpt taken from the journal given to us on La Vida.
"There was a tightrope walker who did incredible aerial feats. All over Paris he would do tightrope acts at tremendously scary heights. Then he had succeeding acts: he would do it blindfolded, then he would go across the tightrope, blind-pushing a wheelbarrow.
"An American promoter read about this in the papers and wrote a letter to the tightrope walker saying, 'Tightrope, I don't believe you can do it. But I'm willing to make you an offer. For a very substantial sum of money, besides all your transportation fees, I would like to challenge you to do your act over Niagara Falls.'
"Now, Tightrope wrote back, 'Sir, although I've never been to America and seen the Falls, I'd love to come.'
"After a lot of promotion and setting the whole thing up, many people came to see the event. Tightrope was to start on the Canadian side and come to the American side. Drums rolled and he came across the rope which was suspended over the most treacherous part of the Falls -- blindfolded! And he made it across easily. The crowd went wild. He came up to the promoter and said, 'Well Mr. Promoter, now do you believe I can do it?'
"'Well sure I do. I mean, I just saw you do it!' said the promoter.
"'No,' said Tightrope. 'Do you really believe I can do it?'
"'Well of course I do. You just did it!' said Mr. Promoter.
"'No, no, no,' said Tightrope. 'Do you believe I can do it?'
"'Yes!' sad the promoter. "I believe you can do it!"
"'Good,' said Tightrope. 'Then you get in the wheelbarrow.'
"The word believe in Greek means 'to live by; to commit to'. How often do we tell Christ that we believe Him, yet refuse to get into the wheelbarrow?"
Every day we're faced with a decision of what kind of life we are going to pursue. Would we rather live an air-conditioned life of comfort and bliss that means pretty much nothing? Or would we rather walk a sweaty and difficult path that actually matters? I don't know about you but normally I'd lean towards Option #1. Less risky. More predictable. It's the popular choice for sure. Option #1 lets me avoid difficult conversations, sit passively, and coast through life. But guess what? God didn't create me for Option #1. And Option #1 won't leave me satisfied. Jesus didn't shed his blood on my behalf for me to choose Option #1.
My legs are shaking. My heart is pounding. My head is spinning. But by the grace of God, I'm getting in the wheelbarrow.
May you and I do so daily, keeping our eyes on Christ.
