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.
Here are some pictures of our new apartment in Portland, Oregon. Although it took us way too long to pack, we’re already loving living here in the Northwest. Hopefully I’ll have lots more pictures for you all soon!
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!
Well, this week marks my last here in Oklahoma and at PBC. (Technically speaking, my interim pastorate ended a few weeks ago, but I am preaching this Sunday.) As of next Thursday, I will no longer be living in Oklahoma and will-finally-become an Oregonian.
This whole experience has been amazing. I never really thought I’d find myself in this position, even temporarily. I know that these last several months have taught me a ton about ministry–I’ve learned so much about what goes into the pastorate. I’ve learned a lot about what to do in ministry, as well as some of what not to do. I’ve been challenged, I’ve been stretched, I’ve been terrified at times, but above all I’ve been taught just how much all of us need to rely on God for our strength.
Will the things I learned here translate into my new ministry? I hope so. Certainly, the church plant in Portland will look vastly different from the church here in Oklahoma. Many of the things done here in Midwest America would never fly in the Northwest, and vice-versa. The mindsets of the people there will be very different from those here. At the same time, the God that we serve here is the same God that we will serve there. I know that God led us here for a reason, and I know that the things learned here will be invaluable there, as well.
I’ll always look fondly back at my time in Oklahoma, the time when I had the privilege of serving as an interim pastor. Now, as Laura and I look forward, I can only smile and ask, “What’s next, God?”
I don’t know why, but this upcoming Easter sermon has me a bit more–what’s the word–concerned than my other sermons had me. I guess it’s just the gravity of Easter. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is such a vital element of our faith, and I really want to emphasize that this Sunday. Also, the presence of a whole bunch of visitors–many who possibly never step foot in the church on any other Sunday–challenges me to really put my all into my preparation this week. I have to keep reminding myself that this is God’s ministry, not mine, and that God will use me as he chooses. But it’s tough. Just one more piece of evidence that I’ve got a ways to go in this journey that is the Christian life, I guess.
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