“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"–Jack Kerouac "Life on the Road"
We just spent three days on the road coming from Honduras to Florida to New York City (most of us trying to sleep in the airport) to Istanbul, Turkey to Burcharest, Romania. There's no word yet as to what I'll be doing. And the strange part is, I'm okay with that.
I know that having a plan is good. I know that we can't go through life wandering from place to place hoping that good things will happen to us. However, I wonder where my trust is. An unofficial motto of the World Race is the term "open hands". Being "open handed" when it comes to the plans God sets in them. As I continue to discover God (intellectually and personally), I think we often forget how "wild" the Holy Spirit is. The more I box God into a room where we can let Him out when we need Him, and shove him back in when I am okay again.
Interpersonal communications states that relationship needs to be two ways, otherwise people will feel used.
Why should my God be any different?
As God has lead me to the race, I have been challenged by my squad to "press into God". As I press into my community, my prayers, and my relationship to God, my insecurity has turned into trangilble confidence in Christ. My compassion has grown from a fluffy "feel good"ism to a deep belief in God restoring things back to shalom. He has set a fire within me that is burning off my impurities, restoring me back to His peace.
My fire has burned bright last night, sitting at a gate in the JFK airport with my squadmates. We had grown worn with the days travels, and if I may be bold, sick having the same people in our space for hours on end. We sat in silence, hiding in our books/laptops/stuff to make us pretend that we weren't there for a second. Then, from behind me, I heard a soft voice:
"Alle, Alleluyah, Alle, Alleluyah, Alle, ALLELUYAH!"
The one and only Nathan Hatton had gotten out his guitar and began to sing quietly. He repeated this chorus, until one by one, we joined in, until the whole gate swelled with the sound of our joyfully worn songs of praise. When we finished, as to be expected, everyone who was not with our group were staring at us like we were crazy.
And maybe we were…
Maybe that's all heaven is: a bunch of crazy people understanding each other through the lens of our Lord.
