Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Physical Proximity

When I was in college, my heart was knit to the guy who had slowly become my best friend. 
And he fell for me too. But we kept our secrets separately. 
I, out of desire for him to pursue me. 
He, because he knew he would be flying around the whole big world 
to spend the summer as a missionary in Papua New Guinea, 
and he didn't want to tie up our summers with distraction. 

He told me his secret over the Chinese dinner we cooked together that fall. 
And I didn't tell him then, but I will tell you now, how I spent the summer: 

When I missed him, I did math.
It was 9,000 miles around the earth to where he was. 
But it was only 7,900 miles through the earth. 

So I marched through the hay field to the lowest part of the valley,
and I pressed my face and my chest to the ground, my heart beating into the dirt.
It was the closest I could get to him. 

After I got back from Jerusalem, I tried to find a way to explain to people what it meant to me, 
why it moved me so much. And this is the only metaphor I could draw. 
While God's Spirit lives inside of me, Jerusalem was the closest I could get 
to the physical, tangible aspects of my Savior. 
And I never wanted to leave.

I miss Him more now. I long for Him with a deeper intensity. 
But it has granted my heart something that almost feels giddy, 
anticipating that day when we will dine and share stories of our great love 
as we sit at the banquet table. 

Come back soon. 

* This bottom photo is the Garden of Gethsemane. 
Shortly after I took this picture, our tour guide told me that two of the trees in this garden 
(including the one in the center of the photo) are over 2,000 years old, 
which means they were standing when Christ prayed here on the night before His death.