Some of my favorite stories from the bible occur whenever Jesus surrounds himself with sinners. His followers, following ancient Judea customs, believed that being around sinners, or “the unclean,” would cause them to become unclean themselves. Jesus scoffed at this tradition and showed his followers the importance of being with ALL people.
There are a ton of lessons in these stories: The importance of meeting people at their level when trying to help them. The dangers of believing that we’re ever too good to be around another person. And, my personal favorite, that everyone has something to offer, and that by loving everyone, especially the ones we find difficult to love, we bring ourselves closer to the loving image God has for us.
My friendships in Dayton bring this image to mind, if only because a lot of people I visited over the holidays were struggling in different ways. Marriages have become tense. Steady work remains allusive and ways of living remain different than what I work for and enjoy in the Twin Cities.
My first reaction to these differences was deep deep sadness. I just felt grief in my bones for these beautiful people and the friendships I felt were fading with time. My second reaction, not surprisingly, was defensive. I started in on the whole “I work hard for what I have,” and “They make their decisions just like I do” line of thinking. I think that was my way of feeling guilty for my success, which is pretty modest by most accounts.
All that changed, when my wife sent me THIS link, beautifully written from a woman in Dayton. I tapped in to this kind of spirituality when I came to Minnesota, and I think some part of me didn’t believe it existed back in the Gem City, if only because I’ve only known it since moving away.
I loved the sentiment and the music (Over the Rhine is a great Indie-folk band from Cincinnati), but most of all I love that it reminded me of the stories I mentioned earlier. I love these people not for what they produce or give, but because they are. It would be easy to push all of the hard complicated things out of my life, get defensive about my own and put up some strong fences.
That isn’t life, though. It’s some weird suburban fantasy where everything is easy and clean. It isn’t, and that’s why it’s important to love people and relationships that become messy or painful. It reminds me there’s good in the hard. There’s beautiful and love and amazing in the messy. It’s a lesson I keep relearning, and I hope I always will.
There are a ton of lessons in these stories: The importance of meeting people at their level when trying to help them. The dangers of believing that we’re ever too good to be around another person. And, my personal favorite, that everyone has something to offer, and that by loving everyone, especially the ones we find difficult to love, we bring ourselves closer to the loving image God has for us.
My friendships in Dayton bring this image to mind, if only because a lot of people I visited over the holidays were struggling in different ways. Marriages have become tense. Steady work remains allusive and ways of living remain different than what I work for and enjoy in the Twin Cities.
My first reaction to these differences was deep deep sadness. I just felt grief in my bones for these beautiful people and the friendships I felt were fading with time. My second reaction, not surprisingly, was defensive. I started in on the whole “I work hard for what I have,” and “They make their decisions just like I do” line of thinking. I think that was my way of feeling guilty for my success, which is pretty modest by most accounts.
All that changed, when my wife sent me THIS link, beautifully written from a woman in Dayton. I tapped in to this kind of spirituality when I came to Minnesota, and I think some part of me didn’t believe it existed back in the Gem City, if only because I’ve only known it since moving away.
I loved the sentiment and the music (Over the Rhine is a great Indie-folk band from Cincinnati), but most of all I love that it reminded me of the stories I mentioned earlier. I love these people not for what they produce or give, but because they are. It would be easy to push all of the hard complicated things out of my life, get defensive about my own and put up some strong fences.
That isn’t life, though. It’s some weird suburban fantasy where everything is easy and clean. It isn’t, and that’s why it’s important to love people and relationships that become messy or painful. It reminds me there’s good in the hard. There’s beautiful and love and amazing in the messy. It’s a lesson I keep relearning, and I hope I always will.
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