seattle :)
I love living in Seattle. I don’t know if it’s the persistent drizzle and frequent rainstorms, that sound of tires on wet concrete, the fresh air, the coffee. I just don’t know.
I’ve lived on the east side my whole life, and moving to Seattle has been like a breath of fresh air. I don’t yet know if I’m to attribute this to my youth, and my desire to be around such energy, or if when I’m old and gray I’ll want to be in the heart of such activity. Time will tell.
The ave is like nowhere on earth. Drug dealers, students, professors, homeless, dogs, red cross people with their annoying clip-boards, foreigners chatting away in their language, groups of people standing around smoking, everyone seems to have a cup of coffee. Bustling with diversity. But not that crappy kind of diversity people talk about in the academic sense “look, we’re all different, and we can get along!” None of that. The fact that everyone around you seems to be completely different. Nobody is the same, and it’s so clear. I’m not excited because I’m excited for diversity and some kind of new age “common ground”. But I am head-over-heals FASCINATED that God creates so many different people, and that each one has a unique story that upon first glance seems so different from your own.
And yet, it’s a city that breaks my heart. There is so much creativity here, so much life and exuberance, and yet it is so empty and lonely. Nobody talks on the buses, nobody seems to be friendly on the ave, eye contact is avoided. (How different would the world be if for the rest of your life you looked everyone you passed in the eye with a smile on your face?)
But I can hear the knocks on the door, the mighty yet feeble door of Seattle. I can hear thunderous knocks…
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
Jesus is at the door, and he wants in. The door is opening a crack, I can’t wait for it to be swung open with full force to glorious light. This city will never recover from the unceasing, unmerited, overflowing love of Christ. It will be transformed.
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gracieurrutia liked this
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thisisnotmystory posted this
This is a strange title for a blog. What I hope to remember as I write is that my story - the part of God's story that has been entrusted to me - does not belong to me but to Jesus. He has purchased my life and death by his death on the cross. In the context of eternity all of human existence is but a small chapter, maybe a page in God's vast and unexplorable story. Within human history our age is a tiny one, and my life even smaller still. I hope to, but God's grace maintain that humility, and write to the glory of God.
