Proximity

I drive the same road to work every morning. I’m well convinced that I could do it in my sleep, because most mornings I’m no where near awake.
I am employed by the University of Utah, there’s a hospital on campus, so with the school and medical facilities combined, the U as it’s affectionately known, is the state’s largest employer. Some 30,000 people commute to the U every morning. It’s a city of its own accord, like NORAD or the Vatican. There is only one way by which one can enter this city. When 30,000 people all need to be at work at eight a.m. and there is only one way to get to that work, some of us are going to be late, because traffic stops.
I’ve noticed something in those gridlocked moments. I’m not commuting alone. Obviously there are hundreds of other people on the road every morning with me. But recently I’ve realized that I actually see the same cars everyday.
There's the metallic blue Audi with the personalized license plate driven by Dr. Aaah. I don't get it.
There’s the green Subaru Outback with the KRCL and Sierra Club stickers on the back.
An interruption: My friend Megan has this joke about all the Subaru Outback's in the Salt Lake Valley. It 's a practical car for this part of the world, so there's quite a few of them out on our roads. My friend Megan jokes about how all the Outback's are driven by middle class former hippies, rear windows emblazoned with of bumper stickers of a couple classic rock bands or some anti George Bush rhetoric and there is almost always a golden retriever hanging out in the back of the wagon. I always laugh at this joke, and then I laugh a lot harder when I remember that my parents are middle class hippies who recently bought a used Subaru Outback. They left the previous owner’s Grateful Dead sticker on the hatchback because well, they love the dead. And my parents have two golden retrievers. Their names are Dagwood and Camilla, if you’re interested.
Back to the gridlock.
There’s the grey Pontiac Sunbird, which is probably the only care I see on a regular basis which is more beat up than mine, the grey paint is deteriorating to show some canary yellow and maroon undertones. I’d like to perform an archaeological expedition on this car to determine where its roots really are.
I see these cars everyday. Therefore I see their drivers everyday, I don’t know them, and they don’t know me. Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in their car, what radio station they are listening to, and how they might be counting the minutes on their dashboard clock before they have to rush into their office intentionally grumbling about how terrible the traffic is on Foothill so their boss thinks that it is the reason they are late and that their tardiness has nothing to do with the Starbucks cup in their hand.

What?

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I’m what I would I consider myself to be a regular at the Starbucks near my office. Or maybe I’m a semi-regular; I don’t know what the perimeters really are. I see the same baristas when I go into Starbucks, but they never seem to remember that I’m the venti vanilla Americano. I’m self-important, I know. I write a blog.
Some mornings I see this kid who is usually wearing an UnderOath t-shirt. He does not wear a coat. He sits outside smoking cigarettes, listening to his iPod and sipping on an iced coffee treat. Most mornings when I walk past him, I take a deep breath of second hand smoke and smirk. He probably wonders what the deal is with this girl who has a breathing problem and a twisted mouth. He probably feels sorry for me. I would.
I smirk because of his t-shirt. Underoath is a Christian hardcore band that is apparently a big deal. I wouldn’t know. What I do know is that by God’s grace and ordinance, once upon a time my friend Jaymi met the drummer of Underoath. Once upon a time, Jaymi fell in love with the drummer of Underoath and to my surprise, the drummer of Underoath fell in love back. (Let me make this abundantly clear. The surprise has nothing to do with Jaymi, she’s rad, in fact I would be more surprised he had not fallen in love with her. The surprise part stems from the fulfillment of the teenage fantasy of the cutest guy in your favorite band actually liking you back. )
So, Jaymi loves Aaron. Aaron loves Jaymi. Jaymi moves to Florida to be with Aaron, and her church family and friends think they will never see her again.
Until this summer. Aaron proposed to Jaymi. After spending some time with Jaymi’s friends and family in Salt Lake City throughout their courtship, Aaron decides to move he and Jaymi permanently to SLC because Aaron knows it’s the best atmosphere for Jaymi to be in while he’s out on tour. Aaron loves Jaymi.

Their house in Salt Lake is about four blocks away from my office. The Starbucks I frequent is about five blocks away from my office.
I smirk each morning at this boy smoking his cigarettes and sipping his coffee wearing a t-shirt of my friend’s band because he is oblivious to the fact that his hero’s house is a stone’s throw away. (Assuming that you are John Elway. If you’re me, this analogy would mean that his house was approximately 12.8 feet away. I throw like a girl.)
This kid has no idea.

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My computer at work stopped functioning. While I’m waiting for a new one, I’m using another computer in the reception area of my office that I share with my co-worker Alli. This computer is much closer in proximity to Alli’s desk than my old computer was. I’ve been at this job for about six months and I still refer to Alli as my co-worker rather than friend. I spend forty hours of my week with her, and we’re still in the over-polite-get-to-know-you phase of our work relationship. That was before the last few weeks of sitting right next to her. Slowing, she is becoming my friend, Alli. Although we have very little in common, we are physically close enough to share what’s going on in each other lives.

I’ve come to this conclusion. To live in community you must actually, physically live with each other. I’m not talking about some sort of crazy hippie commune (or am I, there is something really appealing to me about brotherly love and common resources … ). I mean we must live our lives with one another. Enough of the whitewash exterior we present our friends during fellowship time at church or at small group or wherever. I’m talking about making a decision individually and within a community of believers to put others before yourself, to live in such a way that your needs are last and others are first. Think about that, if all of your friends, or even most of your friends, or even some of your friends lived that way, your needs would be met. They really would.

I could really go on and on and on about this idea, about the beauty of the church, about our identity as God's children and therefore brothers and sisters. I could quote all the "one another" verses that Paul admonishes the New Testament church with, but that's not my point. Knowledge of what we are supposed to do and actually doing it are totally different things. I can't roll down my window and start up a conversation with Dr. Aaahh. I can't walk my little Starbucks buddy over to Aaron's house to shake his hand. But I can listen to my friend Alli. And I can pray for her. I can listen to my roommates and I can pray with them. I can serve Alli, and I can serve my small group. I can, by the power of the Holy Spirit, act out those "one another" verses in my life with at least one other person, even if that's all.
I don't know. Maybe all this means I should just look into purchasing a Subaru and a new puppy.