drives and community.

I dropped my roommate off at the airport today and was enjoying a nice Sunday drive back to Blacksburg when I began slipping into that introspective wandering of the mind that happens when I drive sometimes, and I realized, “I won’t be able to do this anymore.” And by ‘this’ I mean taking a drive. The simple act of walking out to my car and taking a drive, will become much more complex without a car.

I love taking drives, jumping into the car, and speeding off to a world of freedom on the open roads. Winding through the mountains of southwestern Virginia is very close to therapy for me, it’s a great place to go to free your mind of whatever is trying to get out, or stay in for that matter. But when I leave, and move to a different country, I will not have this luxury of personal freedom anymore.

I have to be open to a new perspective. Now, my feet will be my car. I will have to slow down and my travels won’t be as far, but they will definitely be more deliberate. I will notice more of what I’ve been missing over the years while racing down the highway in our Americana frenzy getting to our next destination. This will force me into community with others, also known as public transportation. New opportunities await.

So why is it that far too often here, in the states, community is sacrificed for comfort? I believe it’s because we take community for granted. We hold it up high as this ideal that we think we are living in, while the honest truth is, we don’t have to slightest clue what it means to live in community. If we did maybe worship would become more of a permanent way of life, as opposed to a once a week task.

I know I have taken it for granted during my time in Blacksburg. I am thankful He has been opening my eyes to this aspect of life, because over the next few months it is going to become my life.

I crave community now. Living transparently with other people. I want that.

one foot in eden- ron rash

and one out.

i glance up at my reflection in the window, then back down to the screen, then back up, my eyes glance around my desk to all the artifacts that are set rightly in place. they will be moved soon. for good. i watch the minutes pass on my travel clock that sits on my set of matthew henry's. my eyes are heavy from the long day of work in the hot sun. flying gables, i glance back up [in thought], are quite challenging. something about it is satisfying, though. it feels good to be outside working in the hot sun, dripping wet, having trouble keeping water in you, before you sweat it out, having your arms cut by nails while banging the wood into place, struggling to hold the gable all while your biceps are burning and your eyes stinging, and yet, it's a great feeling when it's complete. that sense of achievement. [i stretch my fingers as even now they are sore and achy]

and this experience is something i share with the guys i work with. we all feel this. this physical triumph of sorts. but it's not my body that will continue to hurt days and years down the road, it's my heart. physical pain and sacrifice is so brief when dealing with the longing of the heart.

we talk about God, and they only inform me of His silliness, how God is simply an illusion. One of them informs me how he thinks it would be great if he could convince someone to denounce their faith. my heart breaks at that statement, and i feel so helpless. ron rash has hit on something that is embedded deep within the soul. "that yearning, that sense that sense that part of your heart is unfilled."

why do i always insist on filling it with things that will not last?