All of a sudden a host of people seem to be moving. Church members Janice Woodard and Neal Boyd have just moved to The Crossings, leaving homes of long-standing. Letting go of all kinds of things that no longer fit or that they no longer need, they’ve down-sized into spaces more suited to their abilities, and into the hands of people prepared to help them with daily tasks. My neighbor Mary—the kind of neighbor you can laugh with or cry to—has spent the last three weekends emptying her house just doors from mine. She is starting a new life in a new town with a new job and soon, a new husband. I will be emptying her refrigerator for her in a few hours. And former BPC members Jonathan and Angela Anderson are moving back to Blacksburg with their three children in a matter of weeks, so Angela can begin her new faculty position, news that made my day when I heard it.
These comings and goings have confirmed for me that despite our best-laid plans, life is ever mutable. Some days we mourn the loss of things that were; some days we embrace the new—new settings, new starts, and new or even renewed friendships. Or we had best embrace it. Stasis is the only impossibility.
Jesus wondered last week if God might not take the looming cross away, but this week he is jumping on a donkey and moving into Jerusalem come what may. It’s a journey he is determined to take. Praise God that he did not opt for sameness, traveling away from Jerusalem instead of toward it. He could have done well as an itinerant rabbi and healer. Most of the disciples might have come along; after all, they were a traveling band already. Then nothing would have changed. Nothing.
Psalm 118:1-2; 19-29