Estimated reading time: 4 minute(s)

A couple weeks ago, now, we were visiting some old friends at their home in the Buffalo area. We all went to Bible college together, and three of us even went to high school and earlier schools together. We go way back. 🙂 We’ve stayed in touch through the years, though over greater distances, so when they moved back to Buffalo last year, we were looking forward to getting together more often.

We have much in common. We both home school our children, we like rooting for Buffalo teams (on this occasion, it was the Sabres), even our parents are all good friends. And recently, we have been on a similar path spiritually… away from the insitutional church that we have always known. That transition, though wonderful, and definitely led by our Father, can definitely be scary, in a way. It’s leaving all that is familiar. It can also be alienating to all of the people (especially our families) who we have known from and are still heavily integrated into that structure. That alienation can be disconcerting, and just plain lonely.

With that in mind, I was looking forward to chatting with them about how they were doing with life “out of the box”. I thought it would be good to chat about what things were difficult for them, which were amazingly better, and just in general we could chat about all the issues that Jen & I deal with through our transition, that it would seem they would be dealing with also. What happened, however, was far greater in retrospect.

When we arrived, the kids were playing out on the new swingset, freshly constructed the day before. Our kids wanted to join of course, so out they went. We adults were putting the finishing touches on our Memorial Day picnic dinner, and just catching up as we did. We talked about home schooling, our kids, our jobs, the neighbors, swing sets, friends, Sabres, and more. All of the things that made up our everyday life. All the while I kept looking for the best time to chat about “life outside of the box”. But oddly… everytime I thought to interject that topic, it felt contrived.

But how could it? It’s defintely a big part of my thinking, and I figure it is of theirs as well. You don’t change such a major part of what you have always known and not think about it. And for the most part, we don’t know other people going through the same transition nearby us, so it was a great opportunity to talk through some of the struggles, along with the great parts.

Why did it feel so contrived to bring up anything relating to that then?

I finally did get to chat with my friend briefly near the very end of our visit. It was good. Glad that we did. But it was super brief, and in the context of the evening (along with my presumption of how it was going to go) it was almost an after-thought.

In the pseudo-silence on the trip home I thought about all this. I talked about it with Jen. I told her how I had anticipated chatting about life outside the church-box, and how I was puzzled that it never seemed to fit. And then a light went on. I realized that it was true. It doesn’t fit!

Instead of enjoying sharing our everyday lives, as we were doing (and as I reference as a main focus of life “outside of the box” when talking with folks who are “inside of the box”) I was wanting to talk about this imaginary divide. Inside vs. Outside. Ha! It seems so simple and clear to me now, but I really had not grasped this until that evening. For so long I have been thinking we were “outside the box”, but perhaps by dwelling in that realm, we are still “inside the box”?

We draw these imaginary lines, and then play the games created by those imaginary boundaries. We say who is in, and who is out, and how to interact with both. When we were on the inside, it was important to (in whatever way possible) coax those on the outside to cross the line, and join the fun. Now we are on the “outside”, and often I will think about the stuff that I don’t like about life on the inside, or how I wish that folks on the inside could just experience the freedom of life on the oustide.

But why must I play by those rules?

Instead, perhaps I should just eliminate the lines all together? I know that I can not deny their existence. Other folks do a good enough job drawing up lines that they are inevitably going to surface in various relationships. But, what if I just lived as though I had no lines? People could just be people, not “inside the box” or “outside the box”. I think I learned that night that I was still playing the lines game. The reality of the evening was great! We were sharing life together as believers and friends. Talking about everyday life with God… not about any systems or lines we have created. But about the reality of our Father in the stuff we do every day.

God continues to open my eyes to the greatness of life in him. I have only known a small, limited piece before now. And I imagine I am only on the proverbial “tip of the ice berg”. He is able to do more than we can ask or imagine. I am often reminded of that. And awed by that.

I am so looking forward to the rest of the journey. Transcending the lines.