Shooting stars and cigarettes

I'm ashamed of my desire. It's a desire others call holy. It's a desire I believe is hidden in us all. But it's a risky desire, one which pulls me out of my basement fortress and into the dining room where sunlight streams in and people talk too loudly and share their food with me and notice when my eyes don't meet theirs. I think we're a lot less alone in this desire than we convince ourselves we are. Mostly we're just afraid to voice it, to grip between our fingers for long enough the words to communicate it. But it lives on in the shadows, hiding when life is grand and creeping out when we can't escape ourselves any longer. We need each other.

I have amazing people swirling through my life every day. They laugh with me and learn with me and cook with me and walk with me and we try to build each other up and try to apologize when we've been too harsh. And we all love our God. But somehow still I've been pursuing him alone. I've been existing with him in silence and solitude and there have been too many days lately when I don't have it in me to pursue, to exist in the same heart space as him. I need to hear the voices of others crying out to him, need hear them breathing next to me and feel their hands grip mine. I need those people to step in, to push and pull me into the presence of God when I can't get myself there. They have fed and bathed and clothed and cared for me and now I'll dare ask them to do even more. I'll ask them to be God's face to me. When I can't see him, when my mind is too dark and I'm too drunk to find my way they will lead me to him. I think this is community.

These friendships I have are valuable. They put a gentle but honest mirror in front of me and urge me to grow. But until I ask them to take steps with me I don't think we've found community in one another. It's significant that community doesn't happen without the sharing of desire, the admittance of need, the humble request for help. It doesn't happen without mutual intention, risky vulnerability, and hearts full of grace. But if we can all get there, what might we see? I hope we would see ourselves fade, and the work of God rising in the space between us. I hope we would serve that work of God above ourselves, and that through our humility towards one another God would grow us and prepare us for our next steps. I hope we would see tears and healing and strength and beauty breaking forth from the cavities of our souls. To turn ourselves over to our God, in a submission that is mutual and at the same time personal, is our goal. I want to learn how to get there.