Distance

I've recently been hit by the reality of how physically far I truly am from friends and family. This has been brought into sharp focus over recent weeks because of the firing of Ken Kalisch, director of wilderness programs at HoneyRock. HoneyRock is the camp owned by Wheaton where I worked many summers through college and beyond. Ken was my boss as I led backpacking trips in '00, '02, and '04. He and his wife, Fran, are people of character, kindness, and simplicity, and they have influenced countless college and grad students to pursue the "High Road"- lives of Christlike ministry, community, challenge, reflection, and purpose. High Road is the name of the program he developed at HoneyRock; it's kind of a Christian version of Outward Bound. I certainly grew a lot through doing High Road as an incoming freshman at Wheaton, and the friendships I developed through the years at HoneyRock are precious to me. (Plus I got many of my best stories from those trips; that can't be underestimated). I can honestly say I am who I am because of God's intervention in my life through High Road. So as well it should, Ken's termination and the change in HoneyRock's direction disturbs me.

However, the reaction to these events has generally encouraged me- many folks who have been affected by Ken over the years are speaking up, working to celebrate his 30+ years of faithful service and protesting the injustice surrounding his firing. There has been a strong tenor of speaking the truth in love, examining our own hearts, and trying to respond in a Christlike manner. That alone is a powerful testimony to Ken's influence in our lives. The electronic age is great- there's a google group of High Road leaders that started with 2 members and has grown to 130, all sharing ideas about how to respond to this news. As someone on the other side of the world, I very much appreciate being able to be a part of those conversations. It's cool to see where former High Road instructors are and what they are doing; Ken truly has had an international impact on countless educators, social workers, pastors, and missionaries. Even though these are not the most high-paying jobs, people are responding in practical ways: a fund is being set up to support the Kalisch family through this period of financial difficulty, they have been offered a place to live, etc. Many letters have been written to the camp's board of directors, the trustees at Wheaton, and the director of the camp.

But the reason I've been reminded of distance is this: a reunion and celebration of Ken's work is being held in Wisconsin over Columbus Day Weekend. In many ways that's terrific. Tons of Ken's former students are trekking out, they'll all camp together, those who no longer own tents and stoves are borrowing from those that do, and many friendships will be rekindled as part of honoring Ken. The man who worked tirelessly to teach us about community will get to see generations of impact all in one place.

But I don't get to go. Many of you know that I really enjoy traveling across country to support my friends (hence the recent marathon of 12 weddings in 14 months). I love to reconnect with people at events, and I'll usually find a way to get to a party. This is one I don't want to miss: so many people I respect and want to learn from! So many stories to hear again and tell again! So many new insights gained in the years we've been apart! An opportunity to honor someone who's helped us to grow! A chance to worship together, mourn together, and celebrate together! But there's basically no way I could go. Physical distance, financial distance, even time commitment distance make attendance virtually impossible. So I'm sad to be left out of this expression of community. And I think about how this is only one of many events I won't be a part of. Whose births, adoptions, graduations, weddings, funerals, retirement parties, and going away parties will I miss? So many people are so very precious to me, and I've often expressed my care for them by showing up. Now I can't. Whose great idea was this? ;)

But there is one significant consolation in all this: prayer negates distance. (In math nerd talk, prayer is the normal subgroup of the spiritual world; everything it touches gets sucked right in no matter how big or small. Just like multiplying by zero). God is equally accessible to all His people, whether they be in Northern Wisconsin or Nairobi, whether it be the middle of the night or early in the afternoon. God knows no time zone. =) Prayer is miraculous! We are changed when we pray. We are brought into accordance with God's will through His Spirit. So a group of people who are continents apart can still implore God together and be moved to consistent action by His Spirit as a result. Incredible.

So I'm not really left out. I still have the ear of the Holy One. And on September 22, a day of prayer and fasting for HoneyRock, Wheaton, and the Kalisches, I look forward to beating the door of heaven with my fellow High Road instructors. Yes, there is community in prayer.