On Tuesday nights I have a class called Introduction to the Hermeneutical Task. Hermeneutics is, essentially, how one interprets a certain text, and more specifically for me, the Bible. For instance, I read the Bible from a Western, caucasian, upper-middle class, male, 21st century point of view. All of these factors contribute to how I interpret the text. A female living in Kampala, Uganda might, and probably does, read the text very differently than I do. Neither points of view are right or wrong, but understanding them is essential.

This class in many ways deals with what one believes and why he or she believes it. The professor, who I think is a brilliant and compassionate man, is very honest in his approach to interpretation and faith and asks the same of all of his students.

On the first day of class he passed out surveys for all of the students to fill out. The questions were generally along the lines of what books have you read lately? and who are your favorite authors? and what are your top few films?…that sort of thing.

But the last question of the survey took a different direction:

How do you know?

It was a very vague, yet somehow specific question. I looked at it and waited for a good while before I began to answer.

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The next week our prof read aloud a few of the most common answers to the questions. Lots of people are reading Dan Allender (not surprising), David Sedaris, Rainier Maria Rilke, and that woman who wrote all those stories about a wizard boy. Apparently she’s the bees knees. I had no idea. Someone should have told me.

He got to the last question, the one about knowing, and read aloud some of the responses.

I don’t know.

From my experiences in my lifetime.

Those who have gone before me have taught me.

I can feel it deeply within me.

It feels like the right way to live.

Because of circumstances I’ve lived through.

And then he read this response:

Everything to me is black and white. True and false. Right and wrong. I believe it and have no doubts.

Everyone in the classroom sort of chuckled at the last one. Quite a few people laughed out loud. The statement seemed so definitive. I smiled because it reminded me of my undergrad and how lots of people seemed to know without having any doubts about anything at all, or at least that’s how it appeared.

Our professor, with compassion and anger in the same moment, looked at the class with tears in his eyes. He paused. I could feel the silence in the room.

“How dare you laugh at and judge someone’s belief system,” he said quietly, but loud enough that everyone could here it. “Damn it if we ever judge anyone’s hermeneutic.”

….

I was humbled, and I think the rest of the class was as well. I had quietly judged someone because they were sure of things which I often doubt. For years I have felt as though I have been trying to figure out what I believe in an environment that thought they had it all figured out. And now here I sat, in an opposite environment from the one I just left, doing the exact same thing as those I had disagreed with in college had done.

How dare I ever judge someone’s belief system.

I cannot express in words how much that simple moment taught me.

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I called my dad that night and told him the story from class.

“Sounds like you’re in the right place, doesn’t it?” he said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

To the left, to the left. Some of you will get it. Others might not. It’s ok either way.

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4000+ miles. 20 days of travel. 10 states visted. 8 generous homes. 1 Honda that defied the odds.

Hello, Seattle.

It has been a long trip, but every mile was worth it. I met so many amazing people, and all of them were unique. Every time I travel, at the very end of the trip, I am always grateful that I did it, that I stepped away from comfort, stepped away from easy, and put one foot in front of the other into something unknown. Even though this time I was in my own country, I found it no less amazing.

People are so incredibly different from one another. California is nothing like Arkansas. Texas is nothing like Indiana. I’m glad I got to see so many different states and meet some many people.

I loved having Will with me from New Mexico to California. He is one of my dearest friends in the world and I think it’s safe to say that he teaches me more than almost anyone. The Grand Canyon was nothing like we’d ever seen. The hike down and up wasn’t easy, but it was good. There are few things like sleeping at the very bottom of the country while looking up at millions of stars, so many stars that it is almost impossible to pick out constellations.

Having Jess and Daley ride from Riverside to Seattle was really wonderful. Both of them are so easy going and great to travel with. I am grateful to both of them for putting up with my idiosyncrasies.

Many thanks to all of you who gave me shelter and meals. You all were incredibly hospitable and I can’t thank you enough. If you are ever in need of anything, or if you’re ever in the Northwest, then please do look me up so we can get together. I owe you a meal. And probably lots and lots of money.

Sorry Laura that I lost your map and that I accidentally stole your iPod cord. I’m pretty awesome.

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And so many thanks to all of you who took time to travel along with me and put up with my inconsistent writing habits. I hope that you got some enjoyment out of it. The internet is a very weird place, but for what it is, I am grateful for it. It’s so very odd how you can have ideas of who people are on the internet, actually meet them, and find out they are so much more wonderful than you had imagined them being.

So thank you. It was an honor to have you along.

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And now I sit here alone. I’ve been in Seattle for about a week now, getting to know new people, figuring out the metro system, and perusing the city. It’s all very daunting at times, but I just keep telling myself One step at a time. I begin graduate school on Tuesday to study theology. A new season is about to begin.

I’m ready. I think.