My New Testament professor always said that we are “on-the-way people.”  He would close stories that way, his own and they all lived happily ever after.  He would tell a story about the life of someone he knew, someone who had been through a lot or maybe someone who had just had a simple life, and whether or not the story ended happily ever after, he would always conclude by reminding us that the person was still on the way.  He often said it of people in the Bible, too.  People who screwed up were still on the way.  People who found favor with God were still on the way.  Leaders in the early church were still on the way.  The church today is still on the way.

The more he said it, the more meaning the phrase took for me.  It’s exciting, because it implies that we’re going someplace.  We’re on some adventure.  But it’s scary, too, because adventures mean risks and danger and sword fights.  Metaphorical or otherwise.

I grew up reading about great adventures.  I still read about them, and every film worth watching has some sort of adventure threaded throughout, and for each painting you could look at, each song you could listen to, each blog you could read, there is an adventure.  On the shelf, they’re labeled fantasy, but the truth everyone knows but never admits is that all we ever do in life is go on daring adventures.

What’s life if you’re not on the way somewhere?

So that’s what this is about.  That’s what this is for, this blog.  For the past twenty years, I’ve trekked through mountains and valleys, I’ve fought dragons and I’ve hid from them.  I’ve met extraordinary people and together we’ve done extraordinary things, and also extraordinarily mundane things.  I haven’t lived a life someone would write an adventure book about – no one told me I was a wizard and no one pulled my name out of a hat and I didn’t discover a magical land and I didn’t save the world.

But I think it’s important that the small adventures are remembered.  Even if it’s just me remembering them.  Even if it’s the world.