Venti Vanilla Mocha’s and Airport Angst

  I continue to sit in airports, which allows me to do a few things which normally require extra time. I have been current on all forms of electronic communication, (and just using the word “electronic” makes me feel old: kinda like “records”, “mimeograph” and “information super highway”.) called and arranged an imminent board of directors’ meeting, thought through many of the details for a huge outreach event called “Road Warriors” and blogged a bit.

This current delay, the result of a broken plane in Chicago which I needed in Springfield Missouri to bring me to Chicago, is one of five hours. I now am a shorter drive away from home than the wait alone. Of course, my car is in Lansing. It afforded me a segment of time to read a few magazines. I began with Rolling Stone.

I believe that this periodical is a touch on the pulse of non-churched America. My shell, the one with stained glass, most often allows me to only see conservative, christo-centric input. Rock’s journal is hardly that.

Page to page I read one expression of anger after another. The commentary on politics… steaming, insidious, and hostile. I found an interesting theme running through this edition. They wrote regarding the death of Heath Ledger as heroic. I was, as I read intention, coersed into the discussion of this as his last epic artistic struggle. Britney is discussed as an anomally to the industry rather than a standard. And The Psycho-funkodelic neo-punk band, Mars Volta, waxes prosaic on their drug experiences, friends’ suicide and a cross-country trip to bury a possessed Ouijah board (of the demon Goliath) as the source for their music.  Now please do not misinterpret my desire here. I simply am pointing out an emotion.

Rock, is riddled with angst and upheaval. The tone here however was victimization. The concept from the torked-off political commentary all the way to a description of the Kid Rock tour, held a dazed stare at the sense of being trapped by decisions, demons and the weight of fame.

As I worked my way through this installment of The National Geographic I happened onto a journal by a man retracing the 17^th century tour of the famed Japanese Poet, Basho. The writings left during this artists’ trek around and through Japan wrestled with, and finally embraced futility.  A similar journal was written in the 10^th century B.C. by a king in the middle east, echoes this journey through life.

We, as believers have a different take on life.  We are freed from those things. Our steps are given purpose and our circumstances are controlled by a God of love. Our lives are reflections of God in the pool of history. We see through a dark window, but someday…

This sentiment was expressed by my somewhat less than verbose, Father-in-law. He stated that the entirety of life is spent waiting for “that big thing”. What he has discovered is that life is found in the waiting. It is an extremely profound way of saying that life IS the journey. How post-modern of a sixty years old.   What I will contend is this; Christ allows us to find serenity in this reality. The lack of Christ forces us to become victims of the moment. As that “Builder” era philosopher Curly Howard used to say, “I’m a victim of Coicumstance.”

Now, I’ll go back to watch other people in their journeys. I’ll try to discover if they are victims or sojourners based on their facial expressions. Oh, wait.  There’s a Starbucks. I people watch with a venti vanilla mocha and piece of lemon loaf.

~ by Doug Routledge on February 18, 2008.