Distance

"Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time" (Steven Wright).

I'm a sucker for a road trip, even when others are taking them instead of me. Our friend Jolene gave my wife a road trip to the nearest In-n-Out Burger as a Christmas gift. We live in Denver; the nearest In-n-Out is in Salt Lake City. Eight hours of open American interstate lay between them and that burger, but they managed to bridge that gap and eat there twice over the course of their weekend together.

Personally, I find In-n-Out Burger to be relatively mediocre, which I know doesn't win me many friends on the west coast. Then again, I'm not from California, and I certainly don't have the same sentimental associations with the place that my California girl does. If I'm going to go out of my way for a burger in America's west, it would probably have to be from Carl's Jr...but it is highly doubtful I would spend an entire weekend trying to get my Guacamole Bacon Burger.

Practically speaking, I can't help but think how much each of those burgers and fries cost when figuring in the cost of gasoline, wear and tear on the car, and any other purchases along the way. But then again, that's not really the point, is it?

While the pursuit of the burger may have been the selling point for the road trip, the journey wasn't really about the burger. There was something much deeper going on. Eventhough In-n-Out might appreciate the lengths and distances people will travel to get their food, I know that this road trip was about the pursuit of friendship and a meaningful existence: two friends journeying together to meet up with a third (Brenda's friend, Janet who lives in Salt Lake).

Though some might judge their little road trip as impractical, irrational, and inane, there are quite a few things about it that I can appreciate. I appreciate the lengths people will go to bridge the distance between themselves and someone they value. I admire people who are willing to sacrifice time and resources to run after what is important to them, particularly when those sacrifices are beneficial for others. Distance traveled can be a measure of devotion. In this particular case, it was more than brand loyalty that took Brenda and Jolene across the west.

Our friend Jonathon leaves in a month to begin his walk across America from Delaware to California. He will spend the better part of a year doing so with pack on his back and dog in tow. His journey isn't some "Into the Wild" escape or running away from life but is instead filled with purpose, beauty, and meaning deeper than many can grasp. San Francisco isn't his goal; the journey is. I can appreciate his journey.

As impractical, irrational, and inane some journey's may seem to others, there can be no arguing with the things that move a man's heart and cause him to go the distance in the pursuit of others. The Christ I admire went the distance for humanity, and he teaches us that leaving the ninety-nine in pursuit of the one is a noble journey. Each of us measures the worth of others by whether or not we are willing to go the metaphorical distance to get to them. Jesus reminds us that people are worth the pursuit, and their value is affirmed in the time spent.

We may seek to quantify whether or not such journeys to help a neighbor or serve a nation are worth the blood, sweat, and tears (or, God forbid, the money). Our consumer culture has taught us this lesson well. But I don't think we should measure the worth of a man according to my convenience, my comfort, or the amount of money spent. Such measurements seem to cheapen a man's soul.

I will always love the journey. For me, the getting there is as important as the destination. The journey is the reward.