In 2019, my husband and I took a trip to Sedona, Arizona. We would spend our mornings hiking in the red rocks and then, in the afternoon, check out one of the wineries in Verde Valley. Our first afternoon, we wound up at a winery called “Javelina Leap.” The logo was a small pig jumping over a gorge, and my husband and I drank wine, and cracked some jokes about flying pigs. 

The next day, we were headed back to our car from our hike, and a couple in the parking lot stopped us, told us to walk quietly a few feet to our right, and we could see a javelina, right by our cars. I stared dumbfounded at them. A javelina? A javelina was a thing? We thought javelina was a name. We quietly scooted over as the couple had instructed, and there it was – A javelina. 

A javelina, as it turns out, is an animal, about the size and shape of small pig, but evolutionarily closer to a deer, that is native to the Southwestern United States, as well as much of Latin America. I stared at it slack-jawed for more than a minute, this unimposing creature stunning me into silence. Why? Because it had never crossed my mind that there were whole animals (mammals, even) that were common and native to the United States that I had never even heard of. 

I may have never seen a moose or an elk, but I know what they are, and while I’m unlikely to see an arctic fox anytime in the near future, I have heard of them, and I’m pretty familiar with other types of foxes. But here was a whole animal that I didn’t even have a mental category for. Google told me that a javelina was a type of peccary, another word I had never heard before. I learned that they weren’t invasive species or anything, they weren’t endangered, there was no real reason I wouldn’t have heard of one, except that I just hadn’t.

I found myself delightfully disoriented. As we checked out a different winery that afternoon, I realized that I was excited, not just about this little creature, but about the reality that the world was bigger than I thought it was. I had just assumed I knew, at least broadly, what all the animals in North America were, and I was wrong. There were little javelinas I had totally missed. Who knows what else I missed? What other things did I only think I understood? 

This was exciting to me, and it still is. I work in spaces and places primarily focused on innovation, and the promise that all that we have already learned is not all there is to know is part of what keeps me so excited about my work. 

When I see young people building communities where they feel connected and empowered, when gardens are planted in once unused church land, when there are new expressions, new connections, new ways of connecting with God emerging every day, I find myself continually excited about all there is out there that we haven’t gotten the chance to learn yet. 

How can we embrace a stance of curiosity and wonder towards our work, our communities, and our faith? What would it look like to act as though you believed that there was much more left to learn than you already knew? What new voices, perspectives, and truths might be able to work their way to the surface if we knew to look for them? 

This week, I’m offering you a little two-fold scavenger hunt. 

First, google (or look) around for a plant, animal, or fungus that is native to your community that you have never heard of. The more outside your scope of knowledge, the better. Learn about it, look for it in the wild, and, if you’re feeling ambitious, find a way to work it into a sermon or lesson this week! 

Second, look around your community for a person who’s story you’ve never really gotten to hear. They can be a congregant, a coworker, a customer, a neighbor, anyone who you regularly interact with, but don’t truly know. Try to take an opportunity to get to know them more deeply, learn about their family, their childhoods, their goals. Even after the conversation, carry their story around with you for a while, and try on what it means to be them in the world. 

Whether you have been in your community a few months, or a few decades, I fully believe that there is more to learn and new things God can teach us. There are little javelinas that you’ve missed, and they can open a whole world of learning, growth, and delightful disorienting curiosity to the world around us.