There’s a story I like, of a man minding his business, digging in a field with a shovel he borrowed–a field, I want to note, that wasn’t his (which raises a red flag). Whatever he’s looking for, he stumbles on something which, at first blush, causes him to throw all the dirt back in again. Difficult to ascertain if he found a drainage pipe, a nest of fire ants, treasure, or none of the above.

He ends up running away in joy. It’s an odd sort of reaction and depends entirely upon the thing he found when he was digging. It feels like a delirium of sorts because after running from that field, he takes everything he has and sells it (the Macbook Pro, the Canon SLR, the Civic, the desk he’s had since senior year of college, and even the pair of jeans he was planning on throwing away), purchases that same field, and thereafter is never heard from again. Presumably he thought that whatever he had found was worth all he had.

It’s the looking, finding, running, and selling all I find incredibly intriguing. In a lot of ways, it’s what I do all the time in my life. It’s what I see people in our world doing: finding someone to make much of, finding that job or internship, finding a parent they never knew, finding something. And people go running, sometimes screaming, and sell all they have for that thing. Sometimes, it’s finding something that might not be worth everything, but is still worth selling a lot, be it time, friends, family, emotion, energy, you name it.

The story in question comes from the book of Matthew. The storyteller is one who fascinated his hearers. Frankly, he continues to fascinate. And he, in large part, is the reason why I chose Looking, Finding, Running.