intimacy v. isolation

i think i have to start with a bit of a disclaimer. here in our over-sexed America, the word "intimacy" usually conjures images of sex and sexuality. that is an aspect of intimacy - an important and powerful one (Sex God, by Rob Bell is my current recommended read on the topic), but it's not the only one. in fact, i think we have done harm to ourselves and our relationships by buying into the notion that all intimacy is reserved for a sexual relationship. if you combine the 3 parts of Merriam-Webster's definition of the word, you come close to what i think it means: sharing things "belonging to our deepest nature" in relationships "marked by close association, familiarity, and warm friendship developed through long association." something about those words stirs a longing in me - i think we were created for just that. what else will Heaven be but increasing intimacy between the Lord and us and each other for all eternity? might as well start now, right?

and i don't think of it as a sappy, weak word. it requires incredible courage and discernment and faith to risk intimacy. it is a dangerous word.

[this tension is connected to the previous two also - in fact the three tensions i'm trying to write about here seem to be braided into one rope. they're not exactly the same, nor are they mutually exclusive. 3 strands of one rope used in this on-going tug-o-war...]

being in community is not the same thing as risking intimacy. or at least it's not automatic. if true community is going to happen, i think intimacy must go with it eventually. but it seems a separate topic, still...

call it my personality or my preference or my defense mechanism or whatever you want. whatever it's name, i can be totally alone in a group of people. it is a choice, for sure, and often i choose it. isolation. and i know i'm not the only one. i can feel it around me. we get our bodies in the same place in the name of community, but it is rather like a bunch of bodies in head-to-toe suits of armor. we're left to try to relate to each other with all the warmth and tenderness of clanking metal. the intimacy we're designed for waits for us just on the other side of the realization that "our armor is a cage" (Lucy Kaplansky).

to those of you who risk life outside that armor, thank you. thanks for showing me that life outside this cage is possible.