First Corinthians 13:12
My road this morning took me from our International Airport through the big city, past one of the few remaining Barnes & Noble bookstores and the Madison County Coon Hunters Club, across the White River and into our little town. I love driving, especially early in the morning before the world is really moving, seeing all the millions of little parts that go together. The coon hunters, the suburban yoga practitioners, the book buyers, the cigar sellers, the travelers, the old couple out for a walk, the cook at the diner. Beings moving through our ecosystems.
I have never had to live in one place, don't really know what that's like yet. I still resist keeping my feet steady in one spot for fear of letting them get stuck.
One of the strongest impressions from the five distinct cultures I've lived in is that of a narrowing of perspective. Wherever we live, we seem to eventually stop (if in fact we ever started) looking at other places, being aware of other ways of thinking, having interest in another person's point of view. Of course, as always, there is a positive side of this: caring about your community and getting involved in its welfare and experience. I have loved seeing people in Asia, Europe and North America - Christians of all stripes, Muslims, religion-less - focus on their little worlds, caring for the people in them, working for the dignity of their neighbors and the easing of burdens. I have also seen so often that focus, care and work turning to defensiveness, territorialism and blindness.
So I am still hesitant. If I settle my feet in, I run the risk of sinking into hardening mud.
I had a conversation a while back with an earnest young friend here who believes A, B and C. He accepted theoretically that someone who believes X, Y and Z could be of the same faith as himself. But only theoretically. When I tried to explain some of XYZ's foundations and assumptions, he just looked at me quizzically, doubtfully..."but they are just trying to prove their biases" (without seeing his own), and "they aren't really one of us, are they?" (forgetting Who defines that 'us').
I have seen the same thing in small towns, villages and cities, so many places. "My definitions are true; theirs are not." It's one of the few things that can cause me to be angry, because I still don't know how to have fruitful conversations with people who are unwilling to let their own defenses down enough to realize that another person's foreign viewpoint might be valid. I know how to love people and be loved in community so that eventually we all are changed, after a good long time - but one conversation, one shot at helping a fearful person remove a brick in their mental wall - that feels like banging my head.
I wonder what I might be like after 2 years, 5 years of living here, after my state, my county, my town, my street, my property start to have a hold on me. It would be very easy for me to have a good strong mental wall as well, instead of just the foundation that I need. And so I delay letting this place and my "rights" in it be important. It needs to be important enough for me to work for that dignity and ease those burdens, but I can't hold to it more tightly than to the truth that I don't really know everything, that in fact I know far less than I assume, and that only together with the others inside and outside my community, like me and unlike me, will we all learn and grow.
I have never had to live in one place, don't really know what that's like yet. I still resist keeping my feet steady in one spot for fear of letting them get stuck.
One of the strongest impressions from the five distinct cultures I've lived in is that of a narrowing of perspective. Wherever we live, we seem to eventually stop (if in fact we ever started) looking at other places, being aware of other ways of thinking, having interest in another person's point of view. Of course, as always, there is a positive side of this: caring about your community and getting involved in its welfare and experience. I have loved seeing people in Asia, Europe and North America - Christians of all stripes, Muslims, religion-less - focus on their little worlds, caring for the people in them, working for the dignity of their neighbors and the easing of burdens. I have also seen so often that focus, care and work turning to defensiveness, territorialism and blindness.
So I am still hesitant. If I settle my feet in, I run the risk of sinking into hardening mud.
I had a conversation a while back with an earnest young friend here who believes A, B and C. He accepted theoretically that someone who believes X, Y and Z could be of the same faith as himself. But only theoretically. When I tried to explain some of XYZ's foundations and assumptions, he just looked at me quizzically, doubtfully..."but they are just trying to prove their biases" (without seeing his own), and "they aren't really one of us, are they?" (forgetting Who defines that 'us').
I have seen the same thing in small towns, villages and cities, so many places. "My definitions are true; theirs are not." It's one of the few things that can cause me to be angry, because I still don't know how to have fruitful conversations with people who are unwilling to let their own defenses down enough to realize that another person's foreign viewpoint might be valid. I know how to love people and be loved in community so that eventually we all are changed, after a good long time - but one conversation, one shot at helping a fearful person remove a brick in their mental wall - that feels like banging my head.
I wonder what I might be like after 2 years, 5 years of living here, after my state, my county, my town, my street, my property start to have a hold on me. It would be very easy for me to have a good strong mental wall as well, instead of just the foundation that I need. And so I delay letting this place and my "rights" in it be important. It needs to be important enough for me to work for that dignity and ease those burdens, but I can't hold to it more tightly than to the truth that I don't really know everything, that in fact I know far less than I assume, and that only together with the others inside and outside my community, like me and unlike me, will we all learn and grow.
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