Just before Christmas I made a major life decision. This decision was one which reflected the shift in my thinking over the past 6 months or so and was inspired by some of the ancient Celtic saints who used to get in a boat from Ireland or Scotland and set sail for somewhere just for the adventure of it, not knowing where they were going.
The seeds of this decision were planted as far back as 2004 and my first trip to Iceland on holiday with my friend Chris. I remember clearly travelling in a car around the west of the country in beautiful sunshine and feeling that we had arrived on another planet, some far northern mythical utopia where vivid green grass met black volcanic rock, where stunning waterfalls were left alone to cascade majestically off the top of high cliffs without the flashing cameras and bright anoraks of hordes of day-tripping tourists. We visited lava fields, glaciers and remote villages, driving our way round dramatic fjords and snow-capped mountains. In particular I had one of my top-three lifetime ‘feeling so alive’ moments one evening when we were staying at a youth hostel built in the middle of a stunning golf course near the town of Borganes. The greens and fairways emanated deep emerald colours below azure blue skies in the evening light and we decided to drive out to a hillside to watch the sun set over the wide valley. We parked the car and walked up a steep hillside where ahead of us sheer rock faces rose defiantly and proudly as if they were guardians of the beautiful landscape below. As the sun lowered in the sky, all kinds of indescribable shades of yellow, red, pink and purple filled the skies and the rock faces began to glow as if lit by hidden deep orange and red floodlights. I felt as if God was putting on a private show of colour just for us, as not a car or soul could be seen for miles around. Something about this place just connected with my inmost being, making me feel simultaneously awe-struck, fearful and incredibly alive.
It’s now six years since that sunset, and I have returned to Iceland five more times, including an epic trip around the ring-road (with some good friends) which circles the whole nation in about 900 miles of beautiful, mystical vistas. During this trip we visited remote towns and villages, encouraging some tiny church communities, and praying God’s blessing on Iceland.
It was about a year ago in March 2009 when I took a trip to Holy Island, off the north east coast of England, with my friends Eric and James. It is the site of an ancient celtic monastry founded by St Aidan in 635AD, and later would be the home of St Cuthbert. I remember wandering into the tiny post office and seeing a small section of books about the ancient Celtic saints positioned inconspicuously to the left of the limited range of greeting cards. I picked up one which caught me eye called ‘A Desert in the Ocean’ by a guy called David Adam who used to be Vicar of Holy Island. The book’s tagline was ‘God’s Call to Adventurous Living’ and after a flick through I paid the £5.99 to the lady at the counter. Later that day I began to read about some of the journeys of the Celtic Christians who would set sail in a boat, not knowing where they were going, but trusting that God had an adventure for them and that he would bring them to a new land, or to discover new and wonderful things of the unknown and mysterious world beyond their shores. This began to resonate with the same part of me that felt alive in the Icelandic sunset, or the Cambodian monsoon, or the Malaysian ocean, part of me that had even felt surpressed for many years as I settled into the fast pace of living and working in London. Don’t misunderstand me- I love London and the city still holds a certain alive-ness for me. But if you’re not careful the pace of living, working and travelling in London can often become something which your soul and body begin to work in time to, and before you know it you feel like time is your master. And slowly but surely you have been getting out of time with the ancient rhythm we were created to keep in step with, the rhythm of adventure, life, joy, faith and rest.
Other factors led me towards my decision. In October 2008 I changed my work hours to four days a week so I had more time to study theology and pray. As I prayed and took more time out of my busy schedule, it felt like my heart began slowly to beat closer to God’s heartbeat and rhythm of life and I began to recognise how much in control of my life I still liked to be. There was a growing realisation that I had shut off much of my creativity and even though I have an ethical, interesting job doing something I thoroughly believe in, I still had this nagging suspicion that I was missing out on something even deeper I was created for.
In summer 2009 God spoke to me about something so important I am still working out its implications.
Identity.
How did I define my identity? I realised that much of my identity was concerned with what I did, and the legacy I was building. Of course, these are important in one sense. But I realised that trying to find your identity in achievement leaves you burnt out, busy and always on the move, not daring to stop in case you waste precious time in the race to feel important, impress others and even please God somehow by what you are doing. Now, mixed in with this identity confusion were great times of peace, joy, God’s presence and I’m sure many times when I haven’t been trying to achieve. We are all a mixture of motivations and I had a lot of good intentions and right instincts despite my achievement tendency. But fundamentally, I needed to know God’s unconditional acceptance of me as his son, and build my identity on the peace of knowing I’m God’s child and that I can’t try to earn his approval, because I already have it.
Looking back I can see the signs of this false identity drive which had led me to frequent minor illnesses over the past few years, including a spell in hospital in January 2008 with pneumonia. Stress and feeling the need to be constantly on the go were the major factors as the doctors couldn’t find anything out the ordinary that would cause it and eventually gave me a clean bill of health.
Even now as I write, with an improved work-life balance I still have seemingly battled viruses and colds all winter and now am off work downing anti-biotics to combat an ear infection.
That’s not to say I’m not happy- I am, but I’m in the process of switching from one rhythm to another and yearning for my rhythm of life to connect with the rhythm I was really created for.
So, back to my decision. Just before Christmas I handed in my notice at work and decided to move to Reykjavik, Iceland, initially for a year. I say my decision- actually it was God’s suggestion but I agreed it was good. I will arrive on 31st March, 7 weeks from now. I will be living with my good friends Eric and Katie St Clair and maybe some others from the 24-7 prayer community in Reykjavik. Iceland is one of the few places where the exchange rate is currently favourable to Brits and I will be able to live in central Reykjavik for much cheaper than I could in London. I will not be working, at least not very much because I need to adjust to a different rhythm and that means slowing down, resting and hanging out with God. Listening to what he has to say and just getting used to being Father and Son without having to perform or do anything to prove myself. Of course, I’ll be doing some things. I’ll be helping set up some prayer rooms in Reykjavik with 24-7, which is great because it will help me to focus on praying. I’ll also be picking up my drum sticks after a six year break and getting some lessons, maybe join a band. I’ll be taking lots of photos. I’ll be writing. A lot. Keeping a diary of my time in a foreign land that also feels so much like home. And hopefully learning what I was really created for, becoming more the person I really am, not a construct of who I feel I should be. There is some risk and a big sense of the unknown attached to this, but I think that’s what makes me really excited as I connect with my spirit of adventure again.
I hope this long ramble has made some kind of sense and maybe resonated with you. Maybe it will inspire you to make a similar Celtic-inspired adventure into the unknown, whatever that means for you.
I nearly forgot to mention that literary evidence suggests that the first inhabitants of Iceland were ancient Celtic monks who travelled from Ireland or Scotland, no doubt on an adventure like I described above. I am thinking more and more that there was definitely a divine reason for my visit to Holy Island and buying that book. Someone else with the same idea made the journey 1200 years before me….
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