Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Mike
Pushing through the doors of Lumina, I inhaled deeply as I prepared to start another workday. I enjoyed my job and had moved up to Senior Product Researcher, which was just a fancy title for the guy who gets to check data, read study updates, and, on occasion, do fieldwork.
I had been in the science field for almost ten years, moving from lab to lab until the opportunity to work at Lumina opened. It was much closer to the kind of research I was interested in, and I had worked my way up to the senior position in only five years.
But being in a fluorescent-lit lab for the past decade had me itching to do something different. There was no satisfaction or drive left in me for the field that I used to live and breathe for.
As a surfer, rock climber, and overall nature lover, working up to ten hours a day in a lab had lost its appeal quite a while ago. But it was all I knew, and San Diego was too expensive to consider a risky career change. And what would I do, anyway?
Picking up the tiny carved cross on my desk, I smiled.
It was the first piece my father had helped me make when I was twelve years old.
He had learned the skill from artisans in Kenya years ago, and wanting to feel close to the work he did thousands of miles away, I asked him to teach me.
From that day on, my love for the art of woodworking grew.
I rubbed the smooth oak piece, my thumb gliding over the varnished cross. It was crooked, but it was mine.
“Dad, it didn’t turn out perfect like yours,” I said to him, my little boy eyes filling with tears.
“Michael, one thing you will understand as you grow in God is that He is the only perfect one in this world. And yet He loves us perfectly.”
Remembering that conversation caused a familiar pang in my chest. Perfection. The elusive goal that I’d chased for years, despite my father’s wise words. I blew out a heavy breath, reining in the emotions.
The memory also brought back a strong feeling of nostalgia and made me miss him more than usual.
He and Mom had taken a full-time position in Kenya, their second home, as directors of a growing ministry that taught impoverished families trades and skills.
We only saw them a handful of times a year when they’d come home to raise money.
My parents had been doing mission trips twice a year since I was ten years old, and I was incredibly proud of the work they did for God.
My first trip with them was when I was thirteen, and it had been life-changing.
Seeing the humble way so many families lived gave me a broader perspective on the world I would never have understood otherwise.
As much as I appreciated their sacrifices in serving God, it made for a lonely childhood since they would be gone for a couple of months at a time. My grandparents filled in those gaps, and after Grandpa passed, Grammy became one of my closest friends. Now I vowed to be the person she depended on.
I’d visited Kenya multiple times over the years, but by the time I started college, my days were filled with labs and classes.
I’d always been fascinated by science, but it ended up pulling me away from my faith for a while. Trying to reconcile science and faith led to many passionate conversations with my parents as I grappled with what I believed versus what I had been taught all my life.
I leaned my forearms on my desk, grasping the piece of wood as more memories came back, ones I’d wished I could erase. As shame once again flooded my mind, I recalled how I’d slowly left behind my faith in that first year of college.
Rebelling against what I’d been raised to believe, I lived life the way I felt was right for me, making mistake after mistake.
By the time I turned twenty, God and His love had become a foreign concept, yet I still longed for that peace.
Back then, I’d hidden this double life from my family, but I always suspected that Grammy knew the truth.
There were times when I was passed out drunk and could almost feel God’s presence again, and I knew she must’ve been praying for me at just that moment.
I could almost picture her on her knees on her prayer mat, calling out my name.
I had met Niko in my junior year, and he prayed with me, talked with me, and tried to help me work through this crisis of faith, but I remained unmoved.
I saw no real purpose in my life except doing what I wanted.
I didn’t need or want God’s involvement.
By then, I doubted He was even real. I had drifted so far from the God I knew as a child and convinced myself He’d never want anything to do with me again, even if He were real.
Isn’t that what you’re doing now? Believing He wants nothing to do with you?
I stood up and paced my office as if I could outrun the next memory that I knew was coming.
One night, after losing myself in things I knew better than to indulge in, I sat on the bathroom floor of my apartment.
Frightened and in tears, I reached out to the person I’d rejected.
Out of desperation, I asked God to make Himself real to me one more time.
I asked for His forgiveness, and just as my father had promised, His redeeming grace and peace filled that tiny space.
I’d cried bitter tears that turned to a joy I’d never experienced before.
After that, my life changed in every way.
God became my God, not the one my family had followed all my life.
There was a reckoning in that room that night.
He became more real than He ever had been all those years going to youth group and church, trying to be a good boy for the sake of my family.
Jesus became my Savior that night, and everything changed.
“Mike, Jim wants to know what time you’re leaving for Scripps. He’d like to see you before if you have time,” my coworker Randy said, peeking his head into my office, his thick glasses slipping from his face.
“I have time. Tell him I’ll be right there. Thanks, Randy.”
Tempted to slip the wooden cross into my pocket for the day, I chose to gently place it back where it belonged.
It served as my daily reminder that God’s grace is always present in a place where my beliefs were constantly questioned by others.
I tried to explain to my coworkers how I’d come to understand that science and faith could intersect, but never wanting to be pushy, I tried to let my life be a light.
But this darkness you’re facing isn’t light. What will they think if they knew what you’re going through? They’d never come to God if they knew you struggled with depression.
Looking at the cross one more time, I said, “Forgive me for my weak faith. Help me, Father.”
Pushing back my chair, I grabbed my phone and headed to my boss’s office, praying this moody cloud would lift soon.
An hour later, I was pulling up to the institute, taking in the beautiful view of La Jolla’s shoreline before going inside. Taking a deep breath, the smell of saltwater soothed my mind, as always. I needed to plan a surf day with Niko and the guys soon.
When I reached the reception desk, my guide, Lindsey, was already waiting for me. With a warm smile of appreciation as she took me in, she said, “Welcome, Michael. It’s so nice to meet you in person.”
Reciprocating the smile, I answered, “Call me Mike. It is so nice to finally meet. Thank you again for having me. This is a great opportunity for Lumina and for me.”
Leading me toward the elevator, Lindsey said, “Yes, we pride ourselves on being able to partner with local businesses interested in marrying marine biology with other fields. How long have you been in the research field?”
“Ten long years,” I said with a laugh.
We entered the elevator, and she pressed the button for the third floor, never taking her attention off me. Her eyes appreciated my face with a smile and raised eyebrows, and as we talked, she found reasons to touch my forearms and shoulder.
This was common with the women I met because of my outgoing personality, but I was raised to respect women.
The mistakes I made in those early years away from God were long behind me.
Even though I enjoyed going out with women, it was mostly as friends or a casual date.
I hadn’t dated anyone seriously in years.
When my visit was over, Lindsey rode back down with me to the first floor and walked me to the door.
“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Mike.
If I’m not too bold, I’d love to see you again.
Are you interested?” she asked with a saucy smile and a squeeze of my arm.
She was a beautiful woman, and at another time, I would’ve exchanged numbers and gone out to dinner with her.
But for months, I just hadn’t felt right about dating.
Shaking her hand, I said, “It was so nice to meet you, Lindsey, but unfortunately, I’m not in a place where I’m available right now.”
Her smile disappeared as she nodded her head and said goodbye, obviously disappointed at being turned down.
I rubbed the back of my neck as I slid into my truck, heading back to the office.
She was just the type of woman who attracted me.
Funny, sweet, outgoing. But nothing pulled me in and made me want to see her again.
This had been going on since before Niko met Leyla again after nine years.
Seeing the way they fell in love made me long for something different, and casual dating no longer held an appeal.
My grandmother called just as I was walking in the door of Lumina, thirty minutes later. “Hey, Grammy. Everything okay?” That feeling of dread flowed through my veins like ink.
“Everything is fine, Mikey. I keep telling you to chill out.”
Breathing out in relief, I pinched the phone between my shoulder and ear, juggling my bag and the cup of coffee I’d stopped to get.