The Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Charles Dickens, The Tale of Two Cities

On one side of the country, the sun's radiance beams unhindered by overcast, and the thermometer read eighty-five degrees as the golden chariot crosses the midpoint of her journey.  Her rays dance on the crystal expanse of the condo-side private pool.  If it's warmth grows tedious, the air-conditioning and thousand plus HD channels delivered through space via satellite to the wide screen plasma TV beckon me to comfort.  The spacious accommodations comprise, in-unit full washer and dryer, walk-in closet (just one of four abounding in storage), virgin plush carpets, balcony in the morning sun, and sprawling counter tops in the full-sized kitchen.  This is just the apartment complex: With lakes, mountains, exotic flora and fauna, and teeming metropolitan, nearly nothing is for want.  Sumptuous dinners at the finest establishments, choice beer, wine, and scotch with prices uninflatted by the state call for no yield or moderation.  The valley indeed is paradise.

In comparison, the spitting gray days, gripped tenaciously by six months of winter, pass as crystallized honey in a teeny, too cold apartment.  The cloistered quarters contain merely two closets, cluttered by shelves and too shallow for hangers, a crawl-space bathroom with after thought shower, and toy-sized refrigerator and oven.  The faded carpet for gets it's first colors and bears the scars on tenants long moved on.  A ten year old stereo takes the place of the thirty-inch flat screen; a second hand bicycle, the 2011 luxury sedan.  Pigeons besides great herons, seared salmon in balsamic reduction with oyster mushrooms replaced with pizza and beer from at the less than prestigious bar around the corner.  Cracking asphalt parking lot fills the back yard as opposed to the swimming pool.  The bleakness of the sober tones sharply contrast the vibrancy of the near ethereal hues of the former mentioned. 

So what if it was overcast and raining with 33 mph winds in Pgh--it was still one of the best days ever, biking with KG and Kenny.

In these two cities, I currently reside--one so basked in the glow of the heavenly surroundings that often it easy to see that indeed it is a piece of eternity, the other at times so far removed from what I identify as kingdom of heaven.  In one, nearly no effort is necessary to discover wholeness and happiness whether sitting at home or just yards from my front door; In the other, days are spent waiting and seeking for the joy I know so well in the other.  Whether running lakeside, hiking breath-taking ridges, or tanning by the pool in Phoenix, these actions and glamorized experiences reveal themselves at best mediocre without the ability to share them with those who embody the Kingdom of God in Pittsburgh*.  The contrasts between the pair exemplify "Paradise lost is Heaven found."


* These are just few of the folks I'm talking about, but LW did a great job explaining how we share life.


Postlude:
To be sure, any and all of my notions of black and white and binary, have always been shattered.  So know this is not saying Phoenix is hell and Pittsburgh is Heaven.  But rather it is another meditation, another illustration of being able to cling to that which matters and let go of that what doesn't.  Sunny weather, swimming pools, and posh apartments can bring happiness--but it's a meal of saltines and cheese food product in comparison to the lavish feast of authentic community, friendship, and life together.  


Before Kenny even came to Phoenix we began to pray that we would find where the Kingdom of God is breaking out--it's not at the fancy restaurants or VIP box at the Suns stadium, nor is it fully captured in glorious natural scenery.  We have found that the Paradise in this paradise, is group of diverse people struggling together through conflict, wrestling with theology, celebrating over engagements, new apartments, and new jobs, sharing life with one another and seeking God as one.