Tonight my sweet little sister is in Lynchburg with me. And that is an AWESOME and beautiful thing.
Lynchburg is kind of a small town, and not particularly interesting until you look beneath the obvious and poke around a bit in the dust of the obscure. But tonight Michelle and I felt like doing a bit of poking, and with that in mind, we drove downtown to the historic (aka slightly-rundown, rather ancient--for America) parts of the city where the streets are still cobblestone and the architecture is reminiscent of another era.
In the process of our meanderings and snooping, we found a quaint little coffee shop where they play live country twanger music and have beautiful shelves stocked full of books upon every topic imaginable. And--wonder of wonders--people could go in, and order rather nasty coffee (or very tasty mochas), and sit and talk, and peruse the marvels of aforementioned books, and be enlightened, depressed, amused, or confounded, as the case might be.
Michelle and I ordered one rather nasty coffee and one very tasty mocha, and sat down to ponder our surroundings, enjoy each other's company, and be secretly amused and amazed by the intellectual pursuits and fascinating conversations all around us. We had apparently stumbled upon a rather well-known college hang-out, because several dozen Liberty students meandered in and out during the course of our three hour stay.
To be honest, tho, we hadn't come in search of human subjects to observe, or great literature to read, or wonderful atmosphere to absorb, although all of these things were to be found there. We had come to get away from campus for a bit, to sit and look each other in the eye, and talk about things that really matter. And we did. It was the most incredible conversation that I've had all semester. We laughed. We cried. We remembered. We read Scripture together...and we prayed. As sisters. As friends. As two women who love each other more richly, more deeply, and more genuinely than anything else that I've ever experienced or hope to experience.
I came away with one over-arching thought...and it was this:
Truth doesn't change. God's nature doesn't change, and the truth of Christianity exists objectively regardless of our individual experience of it or how deeply we understand it. (I fully believe that there are many Christians who, sadly, exist without ever experiencing, on a personal level, the full transformational power of Christ.) But when you meet Christ face to face and are suddenly confronted by the truth of Christianity in a personal way, you absolutely cannot walk away unchanged. It is no longer merely an ideology, merely a way of life, merely a belief system. A personal encounter with the risen Christ rattles you at the very core of who you are and forces you to rip away the constructs and the rules that often times serve as replacements for a deep and meaningful relationship with the God who exists--the God who is really there, and Who created mankind to be in relationship with Himself. This encounter transforms you. It purifies you. It changes the very core of who you are on a deep and permanent level, and confronts you with the stunning reality of the justice, mercy, and love embodied in the cross. It opens your eyes to the fact that salvation itself is a heart-breakingly beautiful miracle--that God could completely love a finite creature who is so completely broken, and that, because of His love, He would offer to completely heal, completely forgive, and completely restore so that mankind would someday once again be completely whole...this is salvation. And this is grace beyond what I have the capacity to understand. And when one is overwhelmed by the vastness and the realness of such a God and such a gift, it is impossible not to passionately share the magnificence of such a hope with those around you.
