Chicago

CONCLUSIONS: PART 1

CONCLUSIONS: PART 1

Anthony DeMello begins his book, Wellsprings, with: “I imagine that today I am to die. I ask for time to be alone and write down for my friends a sort of testament for which the points that follow could serve as chapter titles.” He goes on to list 16 questions or categories to consider and write on. 

Number 1 is:

“These things I have loved in life:
Things I tasted,
looked at,
smelled, 
heard,
touched.”

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The first time I went to the Happiest place on earth, Chicago, I was brought to Gino’s East. Before the pizza came to our table, I remember being elated to see a picture of David Letterman eating pizza on the wall. There were so many other people pictured, but I was only impressed and enthralled with David Letterman. It was the first time I had Chicago style deep-dish pizza. I would not have it again for several years during a spring break in college. 

Just one friend and I went on this spring break together. We chose to go north to a frigid Wisconsin for our spring break. It would be a week of journaling and drinking coffee. It really wasn’t bad at all. There came from it a couple crazy stories. One of those is going through the tolls just over the state boarder into Wisconsin. It was a time when you threw coins into a basket to make the wooden arm go up. We came up on the basket but the car in front of us hadn’t not put in exact change. We put in our full amount to make the arm go up and attempted to follow the cheapskates through the arm, and through the arm we did go, breaking it clean off. We both looked at one another in a silent panic, and one of us said, “GUN IT!” So I’m a criminal.

Also on this trip, there was a day spent in Chicago. We went to a lot of the spots everyone goes to, and we wanted to be certain we had pizza before we left. We walked everywhere we went. On our way to Gino’s, we came across a homeless man who had asked for spare money we would not give him if we HAD it. Instead, we asked him how to get to Gino’s East and if he wanted to grab some pizza with us. He warned us no place was going to let him in, but we insisted. 

I can still feel the encrusted hand shake my own. At some point, we realize what you throw to the side in order to make a marginalized person feel like a person. His hands had more than dirt and germs swathed within them. His hands held loosely memories of family and a childhood lived somewhere. With a simple handshake, you have to feel all these things below the grime or this man never becomes a person.

Not many sounds come flooding back to me from that day, but today I can hear the naivety of two college guys who realize this man they sat with had already known the years we knew plus some. This meant, two college kids were unaware that his “condition” could have easily been their immediate future. They just thought they were doing something so incredibly noble and loving. 1 out of 2 ain’t bad. 

The noblest and most loving thing we can do is to humanize the people we walk past every day, even if it means looking below the grim encrusted on the outside. 

Wild at Heart: in the city

What is it about downtown that makes me feel like John Eldredge? For those who don't get the reference, the majority of this entry will make no sense...well maybe it will.

I do enjoy being outside.  I love camping and I enjoy a good hike.  I do enjoy the mountains though I'm not too inclined to carry a pocket knife at all times or attempt to round up my meals with only my bare hands and my multi-tool (I do own one).

Though I do enjoy the outdoors, I actually sense myself "coming alive" when I am wandering the streets of midtown Chicago, San Fransisco, or Sacramento.  Something about being in the big metropolitan city atmosphere that makes me feel like Hiro on the first season of "Heroes" the first time he shows up in Times Square.  I feel like that every time.  I want to say hello to every uninterested city-dwelling passerby because everyone should be so excited to be there.

I like walking blocks at a time to a small "swanky" coffee shop to sit and read by the storefront window.

I like walking along with my white earbuds connecting my ears to my front jeans pocket.

I like finding a parking place (don't too much enjoy the search for one).

I enjoy old houses, studio apartments, and flats.

I enjoy small independent business among large corporate business.

I enjoy small city parks that almost feel like the mayor is playing a real life version of sims city where the city is dying of low oxygen and lacking recreation.

I enjoy diversity.

I enjoy visiting places "Christians don't normally go".

I enjoy endless individuals, which represent endless relationships I could have.

I enjoy that thing in my heart that leaps at the vision of me getting to know a lot of people in this room, this coffee shop, this park, this city.  It is that thing that leaps within me to think about how many friendships I could create down here, and how many of those friendships could lead to a difference made in how someone sees Christians.

How many people could I meet downtown that could one day be talking to someone else who says, "I hate Christians.  All Christians are..."  Could the people I meet say to their friend, "Well, I actually have this friend I met at the coffee shop who is different than that."

My heart leaps at the possibility of building life-changing friendships before or even instead of converts.

There are so many friendships to be had downtown, and I would love to see people come to Christ, but there are a lot of people who need to trust Christians before they will ever trust Christ.

Now I am wild at my heart to make that a reality in a place where I feel God's pleasure on my heart every time I am there.

Why I love one paragraph: American city

Chicago

Why not New York, right? I love Chicago for its rich history of blues music and comedy. I love the midwestern feel that serves as a subtle but strong background to the big city. I love legit Chicago-style deep dish pizza. I love a Chicago [hot]dog. I love the chill of the wind off of Lake Michigan in the dead of winter.

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In ONE PARAGRAPH, why do you love your favorite American city?

#WhyILoveOneParagraphWeek