I love talking with people. Whether in person or via blogs or e-mails or phone or any other medium you can think of (smoke signals, anyone?), communication — good communication — is a blessed and glorious thing. I’ve been noticing lately that the good things in life usually leave me feeling full. Not in the stuffed-till-you-drop way, but in some other way. I don’t even know how to describe it, but it feels kind of like a warmth emanating from the center of my heart. Books often do that for me, and physical touch (appropriate touch, of course), and heartstring-pulling arts. And conversation.
The medium doesn’t seem to matter — whether by voice or by pen or by pixel, talking with people fills me up with energy and vitality. I feel connected to this grand web of humanity when I talk to people. It’s so cool.
Last night in our joint CSL Society/Papercuts meeting, someone (I can’t quite remember who, but I think it was Amanda) pointed out that the more you get to know someone, the more you love them. To know is to love. Then Drew said that this is eternal life, to know God and Jesus Christ, and that the greatest commandment is to love God. And inasmuch as we do it unto the least of these our brethren, we do it unto Him.
Could getting to know people — and then loving them as a result — be a way of worshiping God? Whether it is or not, I’ve found the same to be true: when I really get to know people, I almost inevitably love them. In spite of whatever imperfections are there. In spite of their foibles. Even in spite of their spite, sometimes. It could just be that I tend to grow fond of people really quickly, but maybe there’s something more to it. Thoughts?
My lunch break is swiftly coming to a close, so I’m going to paste in something I wrote in a comment the other day: People are so interesting. It’s cliché to say, but everyone has a story. Even the apparently boring people. :) For example, what makes them so boring? Were they always like that? If not, what changed? And what’s it like being on the inside of a “boring” mind? What’s their passion, even if it’s buried so deep down they’ve forgotten it exists?
Maybe, in a way, as we get to know the children of God, we get to know Him as well. Not all of Him, of course, but bits and pieces — glimpses, momentary shafts of light, brief peeks into eternity.
Now I just need to find a job where I get paid to talk with people. :) (But not counseling.)

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