A couple of weeks ago, Christianity Today posted an interview with Eric Jacobson, author of The Space Between: A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment.
He spoke in the interview (which is definitely worth a read) about what we’ve lost in the Church by suburbanizing ourselves. He spoke about the power of the parish and the idea that when a church is woven into the life of a neighborhood, it helps create shared living, true fellowship, in the same way that living in a place where homes, shops and offices all exist in a communal space encourages neighbors who encounter each other and know each other.
When your kids need a snack and you can walk down the street to grab a couple of bananas at the corner shop, or stop by the local café for an afternoon hot chocolate on a cold day, or when you can perform your daily tasks without needing the separation of enclosed vehicles; you are forced to participate with your world. If you have to walk city streets to get to Walgreen’s, it’s often impossible to shield your kids from the reality of homelessness. You are forced to confront its ugly existence with your kids beside you. You’re forced to not only talk about compassion but allow your children to witness your own response to the broken lives in front of you. Walking on the sidewalk demands community.
We moved back to San Francisco two weeks ago after being away for a little over a year. And there’s something I have been noticing in these short weeks back in urban living: This overwhelming city is beginning to feel small.
And, here’s the thing. When you’re forced to get out of your house with your kids, you might as well be with other people. And that is why, amazingly, I’ve already had six (six!) play-dates with old friends these past two weeks.
I understand the attraction to suburban living. I loved having a backyard in our last house. I loved the ease of sending my four-year-old out to play by himself, fenced in and safe, while I actually accomplished something in my kitchen and peeked out the window every once in a while.
Sometimes, though, I spent more time accomplishing tasks than looking at roly-polies with my little boys. Sometimes, I missed the chance to be quiet and still and watch them pick up rocks and roll them in their hands. I forgot to be awed by their discovery of wind in the trees. Walking moments are holy. And sometimes, I simply need to be forced outside, away from the dishes and the papers and the crumbs on the floor…
The rest of this post is up at A Deeper Church. Will you join me over there today?
Photo Credit: OmiB91 at Flickr