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What would change if…
There was a form of the Christ following movement that was a lay movement built not on a geographical proximity nor on shared physical space, but on cyber-proximity and shared cyber-space?
What do you think?
Scroll past the story below and make your comments.
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In search of the mystic (1.3)
Her hands were perfect. Every finger seemed exactly the right length and there seemed no discernible change in the smoothness of the skin from her fingers through her thin wrists and into her arms. Beauty, however, is not just about hands. It also includes the kind of technology one sports. She had a Mac, a sleek and silvery temptress indeed. Excellent, I thought. Signs of a wireless connection.
“Getting a signal?†I asked.
She nodded her head once and dropped her eyes.
For an amazing city, Barcelona is poor when it comes to easy-to-find wireless access. This Starbucks was one of the few places –in fact, the only place – that I had found where one could connect with the rest of the world. I had originally scheduled to travel to this wireless Hot Spot the next day but I just couldn’t wait. I needed to upload photos and post to my blog.
Barcelona is also lacking in kingdom links and threads. This beautiful city, while rich in church buildings, is poor in communities of faith of the kind that seek to make the world a better place. Those conditions always make me feel right about being there.
Have you ever felt angst in the center of your being?
Sometimes I just feel like I must be more and do more because humanity down to the last man, woman and child is locked in an epic battle. It’s not that I “have to.†It’s not that I “want to.†I simply must. Usually, I take a sip of wine or take a couple of aspirin and lay down until the feeling goes away. But it never fully leaves me. It just waits until the right moment to strike again.
Who will reach this young woman with the perfect hands? I thought. Who will reach the world my daughters and sons will live in?
Every time I travel someplace new that seems to be in primal need of the news that Jesus crushed death, this angst lessens. I know that seems backward. Don’t get me wrong. For six years I served in key leadership roles at one of the great churches in the world. A church with amazing leaders, an amazing congregation, and an amazing vision, still the angst was there.
Not boredom. But violence.
Not an existential absence of meaning and purpose. Urgency.
Throbbing silently.
Calling me.
Not to something better just something other.
I made a peace with this primal longing long ago when I realized it would always be with me.
I pulled out my power source, the correct power adapter and plugged into the power outlet. I set up my Sony USB cradle, docked my DSC-TI digital camera and then connected it all to my PowerBook G4.
With all my gear out and in the open, I knew I would not be able to leave even to go to the bathroom without putting everything away and taking it with me. “Professional bag thieves,†the sign to my left warned in both english and spanish, “operate in this area.†I was stuck there until I was ready to pack it all up.
I hadn’t noticed, while I set up my gear, that the young woman had closed her laptop and slid it into it’s sleeve. I opened my webmail, and as I simultaneously launched iPhoto in order to begin importing my pics, she stood.
“Because the entire universe depends on it,†she said.
I looked up.
“You’re not supposed to be here today,†she said. She slipped a textured piece of paper on the keys of my laptop and spun quickly on her heels. She looked back and pointed at my Mac. “Anywhere there is wireless and an open laptop, there may be a manifestation of the Mystic Nation.â€
I almost knocked my table over getting up and as I began to go after her I again saw the sign.
“Please keep a close eye on your personal belongings at all times.“
I looked back at my gear and then back to the street. As she she stepped out she met a young woman with excellently curled brown hair. They spoke a second, looked back for a moment then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
I’d already suspected for some time that The Mystic were more than just the urban legend I had at first suspected, and this wasn’t the first time this kind of thing had happened to me since I launched my blog, “into the mystic,†but it was the closest encounter yet. And again, it was almost as if they knew where I would be.
I sat and picked up the piece of paper the young woman had left behind. It was a page torn out of a journal. A hand written and dated entry.
“Warriors needed in a quest to save the universe one planet at a time starting with Earth. Safe return doubtful.â€
into the mystic…
Alex McManus
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