All of Charlotte

On Wednesday I had an interesting experience. The last two Sundays I've attended an early Sunday school class at Myer's Park Baptist; a discussion of John Spong's book, Jesus for the Non-Religious. (Interesting stuff, and interesting, always, to see how many people, and from how many different places, are so engaged with such a progressive treatment of the Jesus story.) In an email exchange with the teacher, I proposed a lunch meeting for further discussion, and Dan was open to my invitation.

So we gathered for Brixx Pizza (I recommend the Mediterranean Salad, add the blackened salmon) and a really nice, comfortable, conversation about all things Baptist and Christian and Spong and Dan and Russ... nice conversation. Amid my sabbatical reading of Baptist history, I'm into a well-written theological history of Southern Baptists, The Way We Were: How Southern Baptist Theology Has Changed and What it Means to Us All. Written by my former doctoral supervisor, Fisher Humphreys, The Way We Were is reminding me why Fisher titled his book in the past-tense... and my conversation with Dan is reminding me all that is present-tense about all I believe. What an appropriate two hours of a sabbatical summer.

I was on my motorcycle, as I'm want to be as often as possible these days, but I've never been a fan of the interstate. That motorcyle versus 18-wheeler thing is not appealing to me, so I asked Dan, who lives on the lake, near Birkdale Village (where we met for lunch), to recommend a more "interesting" way home (read, safe!). He pointed me toward the lake, and down the rural end of Beattie's Ford Road. What a fascinating ride.

Sabbatical is about seeing God along the journey, and what an interesting journey this was. All of Charlotte, in about 25 miles.

There's Birkdale Village, a.k.a., Yuppie-Heaven. I've never seen so many soccer moms "doing lunch" and white, upper-middle-class strollers and BMWs and Lexi (the little-known plural of Lexus)... in all my life. And just down the road, the Charlotte Lake Class. I was on the "poor side," but just across the water Lake Norman offers NASCAR and Bobcats and Panthers millionaires the homes they all deserve. (Don't they?) No sooner had I left Lake Society than I entered North-of-Charlotte, yesterday: actual, down-home, farm land... wide open spaces... homesteads that are being sold one after another for the next Gated Community. This farm-become-sprawl zip code runs directly into University Park Baptist Church, and its mostly-African American neighborhoods. Moving south along this corridor, these nice neighborhoods slowly become metro Charlotte, the inner city. Evidence of poverty and crime, homelessness and a drug culture run-amuck are visible on every corner. Then there's downtown Charlotte, everything from inner-city-life to Johnson and Wales to Bank of America stadium to the financial district... And then, before you turn around there's Dilworth and all those quaint little bungalows on Queens Road West. And from there, it's just a hop, skip, and a jump, to my own south-Charlotte home.

Amazing... Maybe every socio-economic status known to the U.S., all in a 25-mile ride.

And every mile... a glimpse of God. Still made flesh.

It's what this sabbatical is about. Thanks, Dan, for pointing me down this "road less taken."

r