random thoughts on life and religion

While reading the book This I Believe, I came across an interesting perspective on life presented by the American novelist and screenwriter Niven Busch. Niven says that we can view the journey of life as a taxicab or as a subway ride.

Niven writes of the cab perspective,

You step out of a door and you go to a door. There’s a clock ticking in front of you that measures off your time. You are charged with that time. You don’t know ’til the end of the trip what the charge will be. You step out of the cab and say good-bye to the driver, or you just walk away, that’s all, the end of the trip.

In contrast, Niven describes of the subway perspective,

What about the subway? There, at least you’re not alone. You get on the train, people bang into you, the train buckles and rolls, and the air is bad, it doesn’t smell good, but life is going on there, and life doesn’t smell good either. Yet somehow, it’s wonderful.

He continues writing of the subway,

In the car, there are lots of people, all kinds. Wholesome people, beautiful people, and sick, miserable, depraved people. Maybe you hear the squeak of some horrible music, a blind old woman with a disfigured face is led through the car by a little girl. The old woman is playing a mouth organ. People drop pennies in a tin cup the little girl holds up. Wedged in the corner of the car is a half-witted person babbling to himself. All these are a part of life–our comrades, our fellow wayfarers.

As a native New Yorker, this imagery really resonates with me. It’s impossible to miss the differences between a New York taxi ride and a New York subway ride. A taxi ride is quiet, generally, and peaceful, usually. But it’s also very isolated. It’s just you, the taxi driver, and maybe one or two other companions that you deemed “worthy” to accompany you. It’s so easy to veg, and before you know it, you’ve lost hours of your life (not to mention a fair amount of money from your wallet). The subway, on the other hand, is almost always crowded and noisy. You have to constantly pay attention to your surroundings, remaining acutely aware of what those around you are doing. You are forcibly thrust into the space and into the lives of others. And as a result, you and they live, exist, and journey together.

Although I am incredibly introverted, I deeply want to adapt the subway mindset as I live my life. Although the taxicab ride may be more comfortable, at the end of the day, when you look back on the trip, you realize how many opportunities for relationships you’ve missed, how many stories you haven’t partaken in.

One way or the other, we’re all traveling the road of life, and although joining with others in that journey can be messy, smelly, and dangerous, there really is no other good alternative.

It’s been a long road getting here, but we’ve finally arrived in what we hope to be our final destination: Portland, Oregon. We’ve just finished unpacking our stuff, and now we’re looking for work. If anyone knows of any open jobs in the greater Portland area, let me know!

Last night a thunderstorm killed the power in the house for a minute and made me turn off everything electronic. I stood at the bedroom window in the dark and looked out at the sky. I probably looked like a freak to anyone who glanced up into the window and saw me standing there whenever the lightning flashed.

As I stood there, I reflected. I thought about life, about my circumstances, about who I am and how I got here. It was good. Consciously acknowledging my thoughts and forcing myself to reflect helped me process them. Too often I’m distracted by the glowing square that I’m staring at right this minute to do that…to reflect. To think. To allow my brain to work.

Sometimes we just need to hit the power button on our gizmos and allow the CPU in our heads to work. I’m going to try to do that more. Technology can be a helpful tool, or it can be a crutch and a distraction. Too often I’ve allowed it to be the latter. I’m going to try not to allow it to continue that way.

I came across an insight in my reading this week that really got me thinking. Talking about Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist in Matthew 3, Leon Morris wrote,

Jesus might well have been up there in front standing with John and calling on sinners to repent. Instead he was down there with the sinners, affirming his solidarity with him, making himself one with them in the process of the salvation that he would in due course accomplish.

I realized that I’d never really considered what Jesus’ baptism meant before. The more I thought about it, the more I came to see how amazing and beautiful Jesus’ baptism was. Like Morris explained, Jesus had every right to be making the demands for repentance — more of a right than John the Baptist, in fact, as John himself notes in John 14. Yet Jesus’ heart was elsewhere. Instead of playing the role of prosecutor, Jesus stood alongside the accused. He allowed John to baptize him, not because he needed John’s baptism for repentance, but rather because he recognized his salvific mission and because he wanted to associate himself with those who were there to repent.

This same Jesus would later go on to wash his own disciples’ feet, to eat at the homes of society’s outcasts, and to die a horrific, shameful death for the sake of the very ones who murdered him.

What a God we serve!

Laura and I arrived in Dallas the summer of 2002. Both of us were incredibly nervous, but also so exceptionally excited. It was the first time I’d ever lived outside of NYC, and I didn’t really know what to expect. I also had no idea what my seminary studies and life would be like. The next seven years were great years for us, although we also faced some of the toughest situations of our lives. Our Dallas journey was both exciting and exhausting. And now, finally, Laura and I have reached the end of this particular road. We stand at the beginning of a new path, and we’re feeling a lot of the same feelings we did that summer of 2002.

As of the end of this month, Laura and I will no longer be Dallas residents. Next week, Laura and I will pack up all our belongings and start a northwest journey. Our first stop will be Oklahoma. We’ll spend the next several months living with Laura’s parents, working and saving as much as possible. Then, in May, we’ll pack up our belongings once again and migrate to the great state of Oregon. There, we will be working with the organization Christian Associates, who we have officially joined.

We will miss the relationships that we have here at Dallas, but I’m not going to lie – both Laura and I feel like we’ve been in Dallas too long. We’re ready for this change, and we look forward to what’s in store for us. Whatever the case, I’m confident that so long as we trust in the LORD who’s led us this far and who has always been faithful to us, we will not only be able to survive but to thrive.

Thanks for the memories, Dallas!