Life on the Road

You would think the World Race would have taught me a thing or two about life on the road.

To some extent, it did. I can pack for four weeks straight and all manner of activity (beach, friends, office, family) in about 45 minutes flat. I'm not overly stressed when I realize I forgot toothpaste, knowing that pretty much anywhere in the world you can pick up that minty stuff. I've even, to some extent, started nesting- this, the third (or fifth, depending how you look at it) of the "homes" I've had over the last few weeks looks decidedly lived in. Not messy, but unpacked.

See? Miracles really do happen, Mom.

But here's something that I thought I'd learned that apparently I need to relearn: Community is a big freaking deal.

It's the hardest thing on the planet, and the most important thing, too.

This week I have the joy and privilege of working with some people who, for lack of a better term, aren't exactly my first choice of travel companions. So of course this girl who survived India and made it to Moldova loved everyone around her, the way Christ loved the church...

Yeah right.

I've been mean and snotty and downright rude.

And then, in my holier than thou way, I was reading my Bible like any good church girl, and the Holy Spirit literally took a fist to my face and threw me flat on the floor.

Ok, not literally, but kind of literally.

Those who consider themselves religious (uhhh, me) and yet do not keep a tight reign on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after widows and orphans in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

Awesome. So little miss religious over here, the one who loves to hold orphans and hug widows, the one who knows the Gospel backwards and forwards and gets excited about sharing it... her faith is worthless if she can't reign in her tongue??


All of a sudden, it all hit me: every mean side comment I'd made, every snotty attitude, every rude action. Religion that God our Father accepts makes no division between cool and uncool, worthy and unworthy. We are all sinners (of whom, to quote Paul, I am the worst), saved by an infinite grace from the most severe of punishments for the sin of setting ourselves up as God.

Because when I judge people, I'm telling God, "Hey listen- great job and all with the whole creation thing, but you messed up this one person, but don't worry, I'll take care of the shunning for you."

It's more like, "Hey Natalie, this is Jesus. Do you realize that you're the biggest hot mess I've ever seen? And yet, even despite your selfishly prideful ways, I love you enough to give up everything for you, to bear the full weight of your condemnation and in doing do, I paid the price for you. You think this guy is a piece of work? Take a look in the mirror, My sweet but silly girl. I didn't save you so you could condemn others; I saved you so you would be My aroma to this hurting, broken world. Your mission is not to tell Me how dorky those around you are, it's to love them in spite of their harmless socially awkward ways, the same way I love you in spite of your sinful self obsession."

Jesus said it, now I get to live it, to be a part of the joyous kingdom that is revealed when I love my next door neighbor as myself.