The personal information forms I now fill out, be they governmental, ministerial, or other, never have the right choices it seems. “I’m just a tourist,” I tell the border guards. “I’m a missionary,” I tell the church or NGO. I don’t think they would understand who I really am, what I’m really doing here. Most forms don’t have a box to check for “Wandering Monastic”…but so I am. So we are. We’ve traded car keys and bedrooms for passports and sleeping mats, and blood relatives for a family of forty-five. Our luxuries are now seat cushions and ceiling fans, and most any floor can be a bed. Also, it turns out personal space isn’t an entitlement of ours after all. But we are learning, we are growing. We are freeing ourselves from our possessions and learning to enjoy the simplicity it brings to our lives. We are beginning to see that entertainment can be found in conversation, in reading, in painting, drawing, and writing, and even in doing nothing at all. It even seems that the heartbeat of our days has slowed, and the realization is dawning that maybe a fast-paced life is bad for our health. (Travel days, though, are an exception, but that can’t be helped.)
Being content in all things.
Asking for our daily bread, nothing more.
Finding freedom in the Gospel,
Identity in Jesus Christ,
And love in our community.
This is the World Race.
This is true life.
This is my Church.
