Tonight I’m thinking again about dwelling. It’s more than just surviving, or making a living, or inhabiting a space. It’s about being fully present. To dwell means to be connected to a place and people. When I truly dwell in a place, among people, I get to really know them. And they get to know me. That’s what happened when Jesus moved into the neighborhood (John 1). He was really present and connected to a specific place and specific people for thirty-some years. So he really got to know them in a way that only happens through dwelling. And they got to know him. Intimately. That’s bewildering to me.
And so, here I am, called to dwell. That means I learn, and choose, to be connected and committed to a specific place and specific people. I dwell in two families, the one in my house and the one called the church. And then there is the call to dwell in the wider community. But here’s the thing. As I dwell with people, I get to know them. And it isn’t always pretty. And some I don’t even like. But on the flip side, there are some people who are also getting to know me, and to see some of my ugliness. That can’t be too fun for them. But Jesus dwelt with the same people, in the same place, for thirty-plus years! That had to include a lot of ugliness, and annoyances, and disappointment. But he stuck it out. Maybe it’s in the sticking it out, in the real dwelling, that ugliness gives way to a beauty that can only be seen up close. And the joy of intimacy wins out over annoyance, and disappointment, and dislike. Maybe dwelling is the only way to get to love.