Uprooted/Rooted

One last move. And I am so excited to go.

Of course, it’s not really the last move. I may be sleeping in two or three or even four places in my first week. Hopefully soon I’ll move into a slum with a family for a homestay as a way of diving into the community language and culture.

But the homestay won’t last forever and then it’s on to find a more permanent room or house of my own.

In short, I’ve probably got a lot of moving left to do. But this one feels different as I finally get to go to a place where I am planning to stay. For the time being. Relatively speaking.

My life has been nomadic for a while. The past year was ridiculous. I’ve traveled more miles and slept in more places in the past twelve months than any previous year of my life.

In some ways the story of our faith is the story of movement. Of going. Of exodus and entry. Of exile and return. Of journey. Of being sojourners. Of following a Savior who doesn’t have a place to lay his head.

But in some ways the story is also a story of rootedness. Of finding a home. Of community. Of being in one place long enough to be permanent. Of becoming trees of righteousness planted by deep streams.

For me, the tension between these two is unresolved. I feel the pull to put down roots and be part of one place. I feel the pull to travel and seek and see and experience. I feel the pull to be fully present here long enough to matter. I feel the pull of the many communities and places of which I am already a part. I feel that I am a sojourner and a stranger, in some senses, no matter where I am on this earth. I don’t expect that tension to be resolved.

[My thoughts on this sparked by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove and some of his writings which have shown up here and here and in his new book, The Wisdom of Stability which I haven’t read yet, but I'm looking forward to it.]