Coronado's Happy Ending

I've always been troubled by the book of Ruth. It's the story of woman named Naomi who loses everything and everyone (her husband, her sons, her home), except her daughter-in-law, Ruth. By the end of the book we see Naomi in the home of Ruth and her new husband Boaz, rocking her little grandson. And the Hebrews who first heard the story were like, "Ah! Peace! Redemption! Restoration!" I, with my American mindset, have always felt a little guilty, because it seems like Naomi got a raw deal. After all, she did still lose her husband and sons. How can there be a happy ending with so much tragedy?

I know someone else who knows a little something about a raw deal. His name is Francisco Coronado, and he was the explorer of the American Southwest, as well as the man who put in place the first missionary to the Zuni Indians. He was a man of integrity, a man of faith, and a fine leader. And he got a raw deal.

I was thinking about him today as I was reading the review of the latest "National Treasure" movie on Plugged In. (I really want to see this movie!) Part of the story line deals with the legendary cities of gold, including Cibola. Cibola was what Coronado was seeking when he left Mexico City on his expedition in 1540. We've been studying Coronado in school, and just finished the bittersweet story of his life this week.

Coronado made a 3-year exploration of the Southwest, traveling through modern-day Mexico, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas. He fought only when he needed to, and won every battle he was in. He lost almost no men of the more than 1,000 he commanded. He was well-respected by his men, and the Indians, all of whom he treated kindly. At the end of 3 years, his men signed a petition to go home, and he assented. On the march home, they passed many settlements, and he allowed his men if they wished to stay behind to build new lives. As they approached Mexico City, he told his men to enter the city a few at a time. He didn't want them to return as heroes because he believed they'd failed. After all, they had only claimed more land for Spain than any expedition ever, converted thousands of Indians to Christianity, and created an atmosphere of goodwill with the tribes so as to open the area for settlement. That sounds a lot like failure!

Coronado even feared returning to his own home. His wife, Beatriz, had financed a large part of the expedition (with Coronado's best friend, Mendoza). He was afraid she might not want to see him again because he'd lost all her investment. Her response to his return was a great celebration and prayers of thanksgiving for his return. (He had been critically wounded just a few months before when he was kicked in the head by a horse, and nearly died.) When he confessed his failings to his friend Mendoza, he told him, "How could you find gold if there was none to be found?"

Coronado's life story echoes Naomi's for me. Where's the happy ending? I think a large part of the problem with happy endings is our own definition of them. We are quick to say, "Well, God's ways are not man's ways..." all the while holding on to our own secret dreams and aspirations. What does success look like when defined by God? Many years ago, Eugene Peterson coined a phrase that is sort of my personal mission statement, "A long obedience in the same direction." Is that (or something like it) closer to God's definition of success?

We have spent a year in the hills of Appalachia, pursuing a dream that God planted in our hearts. And from the get-go things have been everything but what we planned. A year down the road finds us someplace we'd never thought we'd be - struggling to put food on the table, worshipping in other churches, and living a quiet, often lonely life. But it also finds us enmeshed in our community, experiencing the life that our neighbors live, and sharing the hope and the future that we have. We find ourselves uniting the pastors and congregations of this area toward a common goal, and ministering to children and college students in ways we couldn't have imagined.

No, we're not ministering the way we'd planned. This is way better.

And I feel incredibly successful.