I have heard that if you want to really get the feel of a place you need to stay there at least three weeks. One or two weeks feels like a vacation away from your real life, but sometime during that third week your perspective shifts. You begin to feel like a resident, a local.
When I was in college I spent a month in Oxford, England and that happened to me. I came home from that month away and looked at everything with new vision. I became a tourist in my hometown. An obnoxious tourist, actually. I was critical of everything, I rolled my eyes at the naivete of my loved ones. I was 19 and insufferable.
I have grown up since then, but still, when I return home from a journey there is always a sense of seeing things differently. I spent three weeks in Cuba a while ago, and coming back I was overwhelmed by all the stuff. We are great consumers in the United States, and we have a surreal number of choices. And not enough music.
Whenever you return home from anywhere else, you bring bits and pieces of it with you. You say, here is a rock I picked up from the beach. Isn’t it beautiful? Here is a vase I bought in the village. It was hand-painted by local artisans; isn’t it beautiful? You bring home keepsakes to remember your trip, but you also might bring home a broader perspective, as Rick Steves says. When you return, you see things differently because you bring home with you a greater sense of understanding other parts of the world. A greater awareness of the interconnectedness of everyone in the world.
You might bring home new friendships, people you keep in touch with by phone or letters. At some point they may come and visit you, to discover a new place for themselves, and you get to see your home through their eyes. The gift of travel is in finding these rich new connections between people and between cultures. The connection we all share because we are all God’s beloved children.
Traveling to a new place, we might look at the people who live there and see them as exquisite human beings, just as special as we are, just as loved as we are. When we travel to a new place we might see what the other branches of this big, beautiful tree of life look like, and sound like, and act like.
The Lord God claims and loves us all. Our God, whose steadfast love extends to the heavens, whose faithfulness extends to the clouds; this God claims us all.
Remember the story I told you about my mother-in-law and Myanmar? She never got to make that trip. But not too long afterward I met a man from Myanmar. He was in the U.S. as part of the Presbyterian Church’s peacemaking initiative.
He was a guest of our presbytery and I got to meet him when he joined some of us for a weekend youth retreat. It was a gathering of church youth groups from all over the presbytery. The leaders all tried to coordinate to organize things, but I think youth group leadership is inherently disorganized, unfortunately. I arrived at the lodge with my youth group to find about half the people were there. Kids were messing around together, ignoring any adult requests to help. One of the leaders introduced me to our guest from Myanmar. He was standing in the kitchen cooking dinner.
The kitchen was not much. In one corner of the lodge, it consisted of a very small stove, sink, fridge, and about three square feet of counter space. And there stood our peacemaker, sleeves rolled up, chopping and stirring.
Someone was supposed to bring spaghetti and meat sauce. But they weren’t there yet, and nobody knew when they would arrive. Our guest scrounged up a variety of ingredients and whipped up an amazing dish – it was a miracle on the level of loaves and fishes.
Later, we all sat in a circle together and he told us a story. His English was not fluent, so we kept thing simple. More than a hundred years ago the American Baptists – the same folks my mother-in-law worked with on the Global Missions Board – came to Myanmar and showed them Jesus. And now, he said, I come to you.
And I thought to myself, thank you, God, for sending him because we need him. Just as the people of Myanmar needed the American Christians who came to them with Jesus in their hearts, we need this man to remind us who we are.
We need to be reminded that Christ is everywhere in the world, our vine-grower God grafting branches onto him. We need to be reminded that because we are in him, we are also a part of one another, each of us bearing fruit, each of us being pruned and cleansed to become ever more fruitful. Knowing we are a part of this may increase our love.
Jesus said, “As the Father has loved me, so I love you; now abide in my love.” To abide in his love is to love in the way he does. That is, to love not only the ones who live with us or share our name, our experiences, our preferences – but to love, also, those who live far away from us. To know that love is an action more than anything.
So many of us don’t travel because fear keeps us at home. We may watch the news and learn that we should be afraid of other countries, other people, big cities. Yet, the scriptures say, “Perfect love casts out fear.” Love seeks understanding and understanding will lessen our fear.
When we travel, we might see that wherever we go the network of branches is already there, bearing fruit, loving God, living with the same loves and hopes, worries and challenges we do.
When we travel, we might learn that life is much more than a series of transactions, where we take what we need and give to others what we think is fair. Life in this world God made and loves is full of opportunities to both give and receive amazing gifts – even from those we think have nothing to offer us.
And when we return home, we might hold and cherish these experiences and ponder them in our hearts.
May we know ourselves and all those around us as part of God’s beloved family.
May we practice curiosity that comes from a love of God and desire to know God’s vast, colorful, and diverse creation.
May we seek out friendship with the other branches and increase our fruitfulness for the sake of the glory of God.
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