The Prayer

Sunday 21st March 2010, 6.35pm, Wanaka Ale House - Wanaka.

The big green bus has pulled in to Wanaka this afternoon, a small, placid town with carefully kept lawns, fields of fern trees, real Ale pubs, family bakeries and stone brick shopfronts, all set on a huge central lake, the furthest edge of which is too far away for my eyes to see, hidden as it is amongst the obligatory rugged backdrop of the Southern Alps. The sun is still high in the sky at just after half past 6 this evening, and I am sat outside Wanaka Ale House wrapped in a colossal green mohair cardigan/tent, overlooking the water and enjoying the evening sun warm my face whilst I sip my pint of cider.

Word spread at the hostel this afternoon that a group of local Christians were putting on a free barbecue for visiting backpackers on a field by the lake. Not to turn our noses up at the prospect of free sausages, a group of about 30 of us headed down to the waterfront, led by the smell of burning charcoal and frying onions. We were left alone for a while with our gratis meaty goods, before Scott, the man who had organised the event, stood up to speak to us. An American who came on the holiday of a lifetime to New Zealand a few years ago with his wife to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary, the couple moved permanently to Lake Wanaka having fallen in love with the country, and deciding that it would be a perfect place to reach young backpackers with their ministry. He said that he considered us the most important people on Earth. The adventurers, the educated, the free-thinking, the decision makers and the leaders of tomorrow. With this analysis in mind he had realised that us, these 'important people' should be the ones to whom he should pass the word of God.

There was nothing preachy about this man, nothing judgemental or austere, nothing defensive or antagonistic, nothing over-bearing or self righteous, nothing about him like some other "Christians" I have come in to contact with, always desperate to tell you why you're wrong and why you and all the homosexuals you hang out with are going to hell. He wasn't forcefully trying to convert us all on the spot and then rush us down in to the lake to be baptised. He just wanted to show us some Christian kindness via the means of hot food, and encourage us to take away any of the free Gideon Bibles or other literature on offer in the hope that we would begin to ask questions for ourselves.

He spoke for no more than 15 minutes, and after the event was over, scores of suspicious and frightened young backpackers could be seen hot-footing it away from the field, their pockets full of sausages, their minds resolutely closed and their gratitude disgustingly absent. This made me angry. How dare they abuse this man's charity without even offering him a word of thanks! They were all obviously terrified that he might, God forbid, talk to them about Jesus. Fair enough if Christianity isn't your game, but some human decency wouldn't have gone amiss. Some people are such morons aren't they.

I am not a moron, and neither am I frightened that a lovely, gentle man might be made happy if I let him talk to me about his religion for a few minutes, so I strode over to shake Scott's hand and to thank him for what he had organised. He was, as you'd expect him to be, overly grateful and visibly delighted that I'd gone over to say 'hello'; he must be used to 20-somethings running for the hills at the sight of his friendly face. After exchanging pleasantries he asked me why I am here. I was not prepared for this, it seemed like a Big Question. Here at the barbecue? Lake Wanaka? New Zealand? Planet Earth? I stuttered and stumbled my way around an inadequate and hastily muddled together lacklustre response that went something like, 'I've been travelling for 4 months because I had to get away. I wanted to see myself in a new light, to take myself away from everything that was trapping me in a future that just kept happening, without me ever taking time to wonder if I was doing the things I should be doing. And because my savings were burning a hole in my pocket.'

After listening to me ramble like this for a minute or so he calmly took my hands in his and tentatively asked if he could pray for me. Can't do any harm, I thought, and nodded acquiescence. He thanked God, thanked God for making me sincere and wise (!). Then, without knowing me at all, he voiced something which I hope for myself on a daily basis without ever being able to offer it up to the heavens on my own behalf. He said, 'Let her find the path she is meant to tread. Let her be guided by her own volition and your direction so that every day she is living she is not wasting herself, but fulfilling the purpose for which she was lovingly placed on Earth.'

A few weeks ago I was in Singapore and visiting the Fountain of Wealth which you are instructed to walk around 3 times with your hands in the water and make a wish. I promise you now this is word for word - everything I write here in this blog is the truth: what I repeated to myself on that day when I was walking round the fountain, what I wished is 'I want to find the path that I am meant to tread.' The exact and precise words of this stranger's prayer for me. I don't care if you don't believe me, this is what happened.

I would never call myself a Christian, but I do have a faith, and a firm belief that there must be a reason for me being here. Not fate, fate implies that we have no choice or power in the direction we take, fate makes us cogs in a machine, fate limits my possibilities and negates my own intelligence and will. Destiny is different. Destiny is there even if you never reach it. The great things of your life that you should do are waiting for you, but depend upon your ability to take the right road to them. This is why I'm looking for a path, my life will be short and inconsequential in the abyss of time, but I'm hoping to make it as worthwhile as I can for those I come in to contact with, not to just exist, but to live for a reason.

Maybe it was part of my destiny to meet Scott, and to be shocked in to remembering that I came out here looking for a sense of purpose. I reckon God must really like Scott, so here's praying that his prayer works.