Dreaming...

Christmas night. Wondering about the extraordinary prologue to John's Gospel, and the way Eugene Peterson's translation seems to capture such an essence: "The Word was first, the Word present to God...What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by...The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn't put it out...made to be their true selves, their child-of-God selves...The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood... Generous inside and out, true from start to finish."

It is not difficult to see the darkness of a journey to Bethlehem while very pregnant, of no real place to give birth and rest, of having to leave the country because the government wants to kill your baby. It is not difficult to see the darkness in South Lake Union, either: parking lots, exhaust, concrete without a purpose, moneyholders getting what they want without even having to make up an explanation, pets getting more hospitality than children, neighbors assuming that they don't need to be neighbors, buildings going up giving the finger to God. But "the life-light blazed out of the darkness and the darkness couldn't put it out."

There were and are so many peculiar side effects and details to the Incarnation. I am so inclined to plan it all out for South Lake Union. But it's going to be more peculiar than what I could think up. It always ends up being peculiar. And even the transforming types are being transformed into their true selves all along the way.

But why not dream on Christmas night? Why not attempt an incarnational imagination, knowing that the dreams really only serve as a launching pad to help me and others dive into the mess that is the forming of South Lake Union?

What if...

...the churches in the neighborhood were so unified in common purpose that we knew instinctively which group of people could most appreciate and nourish noticed sprouts of God at work?

...everyone living within a hundred yards of Cascade People's Center claimed it as their own to cherish, steward, and share with anyone who finds themself there? What if the hustle and bustle in around that center was so rich, so vibrant, so diverse, that we start wondering why we thought we needed a school? And since children from the neighborhood do commute to school, what if they could come there afterwards, and be part of a democracy...what if social classes mixed and mingled there in the afternoons?

...we could host refugees right when they arrive in this country, and have a place for them to live sustainably, affordably, and permanently right here in the same neighborhood, with their original host family by their side? What if they became a vital part of the fabric of the neighborhood?

...everyone was familiar with a few farmers who bring food regularly? What if it was just plain real food at affordable prices? What if those who know how to prepare it in the most nutrient dense forms were able to partner with people who feel like that's out of their league? What if this process was easier and made more sense than commuting to a Food Inc. style grocery store?

...people who have no place to lay their head could come to this neighborhood feeling pretty confident that they'd find welcome?

...the property owners saw the interests of a holistic community as one with their own interests?

...it was commonplace to say "Hi. How's it going?" and be ready for somebody to cry on your shoulder?

...the paint peelers on Harrison Street were restored to their pre-Denny-regrade selves AND the people living there could still live there as long as the wished (meaning, the rent wouldn't skyrocket)?

Just dreaming. And eager to one day tell the stories of how some of these aspects of the neighbohood develop.