Well it's been awhile

     It has been a little over four months since I last was able to share something in this space.  There are many reasons for the absence. Some are understandable. Most are just excuses. A few more are biological.  Its hard to write during recovery. While your self image and personal framework and list of expectations are slowly coming back into focus writing can be like trying to drive a car down a winding road in heavy fog backwards. 

   But, none-the-less, here we are.  The experience in NYC, all 15 years of it, has left me richer and poorer; more confident and more nervous; healthier and fatter; more known and more alone.  In other words, it was and shall always remain a completely irrational experience.  Personally and professionally. Either one. What happened there, especially at the end, makes little sense.  Ok. It makes no sense. Just like any crazy time though we cant help but try to figure it out, to analyze it, to ask the probing question that will break open the kernel of worthwhile understanding that surely had to be the reason behind the madness. 

Or we can make another choice.  Select another view. That the experience lies not in the events but in the meaning we choose for them.  The destination we choose after finding ourselves on the wrong road.  When you finally turn around at the end, what then?  Where Do you  go then?  

     Those ideas were the foundation of the first sermon i attended at Riverside Church in March of 2012.  They were the theme of the first Richard Bach book I ever read and my favorite John Steinbeck book too. All my life has been that question- from here where shall I go?  That feeling of excitement of an new place- or a missed turn that leads to an unplanned encounter with a beautiful place or person.  The truly Undiscovered Country. 

     My truth has come to be that the road doesn't really end, even though I have often longed for the ultimate destination. Perhaps there is no great answer. No pearly gate at the end of a path where I can set my bags down and find what I have been looking for.  Perhaps home isn't the end of the journey but the journey itself?  

     Is it any wonder then that one of the things I was most excited to buy after escaping from my Alcatraz-  was the latest edition of the Rand McNally road atlas?  Or that I am so dedicated to getting my partner to come to love the idea of a road trip?  Maybe NYC turned out not to be my home but a 15 year period of changing my tire on the side of a busy highway? Now, tire replaced, windshield clean; tank almost full again- I think its time to get back out there.  

Wake Up Joel

I confess that he has dragged me in many times.  When I was feeling low or doubting myself the sacharine sweet preaching has made me feel better.  And that does not make it bad.  But the ease always comes with a price- the denial of reality.  For being a Christian is not easy. More often than should be the case, doing the right thing gets you the opposite of a reward. Ridicule. Anger. Venom.  

All of this and more are reserved for the person who tries to stand up for what is right. The person who tries to chart a different course.  The level that even friends can stoop too when- for just a moment-you stop playing the game and try to live to the higher calling is shocking in every way.  This is not to claim any saintly garment for me.  I am the farthest from a Saint. The back row of the church was my place. Maybe is my place.  But just the attempt to follow that brighter path can so anger people that they can not stand your presence.  The fear is greater than almost any known to man. Its first victim is reason, followed by rational thought.  Logic never stands a chance. Conversation and listening- they were felled by the first volly. Toy soldiers stood not a chance. 

 In the smoking ruins of that battlefield you find yourself alone. With your faith.  And then you realize the price that will be paid.  And in the distance you slowly see the outline of that rugged old cross. Only then do you start to get the point. Its not meant to be an easy road. Its not meant to always be a celebration. Just because you read some bible verses on Sunday morning doesnt mean the pearly gates swing open wide and the shower of gold begins. Quite the opposite in fact.  

As you claw towards something better through the fog and the debris of what was- clambering for what can be- you know in your heart that the journey is yours alone to follow. That the choices are yours alone to make.  Even when they cry out for your blood.  Even when they turn and walk away.  Even when they say youve changed.  Especially then.  For thats when you start to grasp what its all about. The journey of faith that stretches from a Golgotha field- to the appomatox where you make your stand.  It may be painful- it may be solitary- but it is the place you must go if you are to begin to know just what your life is for. 

 I guess even if Joel would have said something, I wouldnt have believed him.