A Meandering Hermit

This summer, as I cruised the steep channels of southwest Alaska this summer aboard a floating city of screaming kids and ridiculous distractions, I heard naturalist adventurer Michael Modzelewski describe his life in Alaska as that of a hermit. What struck me to my core and prompted me to change the name of my blog was his explanation to the married crowd about the special kind of alone-ness that is borne by the hermit: the alone-ness of seeing something amazing, something that defies explanation, something so wonderful that if you were to witness it yourself your life would be forever changed... and you look around... and there is nobody there to share that experience with. That is the special aloneness of the hermit.

To be alone is in no way a bad thing; for many it is a gift, a reprieve from the noise of a busy world, and I share in that appreciation. A hermit does not have to wait for somebody else to get ready, or worse: bear the guilt of realizing he/she is about to make somebody else tardy because of poor timing. And there is a depth in one's spiritual walk that is profoundly enhanced, leaning into the bosom of Jesus for the intimacy and acceptance that He alone can ultimately fulfill, awakening each day with, "Good morning, Jesus," and concluding each bedtime with, "Good night, Jesus- I love you." But there is something to be said about flesh-and-bone fellowship, too.

Last week I went back-to-back chaperoning student retreats, and over the course of 5 nights I bunked with 3 different sets of men... it was awesome. Yes, some are especially gifted at snoring and others reenact some dreamy story verbally as the darkened room listens to make sense of the prose, but the blessing of laughing with others right before slumber, or awakening to quietly go out for morning devotions while others lie peacefully in their dreams-- that is so cool! It is like the incarnation of scriptural promises like, "I am with you always...". I love being around people.


Some people do not understand my solitude: "Jim, if you like being around people so much, why aren't you dating anyone so you can get married?"


That makes about as much sense to me right now as staying in the water after a shark attack, so that you can overcome your fear, even though you are now bleeding. (It's not the same-- but that's what came to mind so I typed it. In reading this I'm gonna guess that I'm simply not ready for anything like dating, especially in our culture today... so confusing :) .)


Instead I continue to reflect on Paul's words from 1Cor.7 and elsewhere: "...it is good for you to remain as you are... are you unmarried? Do not look for a wife... I want you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord's affairs-- how he can please the Lord."


So I meander about in this amazing life, not afraid to stroll by myself yet blessed when accompanied by others-- as I walk into this Adventure called life. Like the Mariposa and the Mermaid, I choose the discipline of thankfulness in all things this hermit encounters. Come Lord Jesus.

Life Held in Jars

When I was a child, I spoke and thought like a child, I acted like a child. And now that I'm a man, I can speak much more effectively and I've wisened up a bit, too. But I still love to look at nature through a childlike wonder.
I have fond memories visiting my cousins and trapping lightning bugs in mason jars, somehow trying to trap the magic of their natural illumination. It never really worked. Worse: they often died before they could be set free. Unintentional death chambers that were intended to brighten life.
How often children's neglect leads to unintentional death; how tragic when one becomes aware of the autobiography of one's past.
What is this need to store things?
To capture something in order to somehow cling to its essence?
And what was the Father thinking when he put the fragility of a butterfly with the mortality of mankind?
We are jars of clay, fragile earthen vessels that have been baked and hardened to serve a purpose but are destined to be broken.
How very sad I am at Chelsey's death.
Goodbye for now, little sister. Comfort your grieving parents in their sleep.