Often times I think of Abraham leaving his family for the Promised Land, I think of Moses leading his people out of Egypt, I think of the Israelites going to exile in Babylon, I think of Paul spreading the Good News all the way to the heart of Rome. Those words, Promised Land, Exile, Exodus, are big powerful words, filled with a strangely mystical quality that exudes adventure, journey, questing, and faithful perseverance. It conjures up images of a bearded Charlton Heston, noble people suffering and defying tyrants. These are the motifs, images, and role models I think of when I think of journeying.
Leaving Eugene I now have some new images set away in my memory banks. Bowling with my parents the night before they drove my car, bike, and other miscellaneous stuff back to Cheyenne. Emptying my room into my suitcase and bequeathing anything that didn’t fit into it to various friends. The blue and yellow banner my housemates made me wishing me good tidings. The pat down by airport security when the staples in my chest set off the metal detector. Staying awake to cling to the last few hours and minutes in my home until I was on the plane headed from Eugene to Denver. The heartache, yet satisfaction, I felt as I hugged the two Kylas and Kevin, some of the closest friend I have, goodbye when they dropped me off at the airport.
I am beginning on a journey, and I have now taken the first step. I am in Chicago for Young Adult Orientation where the seminary here is hosting sixty plus Lutherans and Presbyterians. We’ve supped at the refectory, done a little meeting and greeting, and worshipped. In a week I’ll be on another plane headed for England.
Thus begins the adventure, not with big epic words or ideas, but with little flashes of change.