There's something about family vacations that reminds me of Nicodemus.
Sometimes it's a campfire. Sometimes a puzzle or a card game.
This vacation, it's a hot tub.
A place to gather into the late hours of the night, where one or two layers of the onion peels back and another level of vulnerability peeks through.
The desire to know and to be known. To accept and be accepted. To understand people on a deeper level.
I think about Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night. When the quietness unveils a window into truth inaccessible during the busyness of the day.
So much literature and religious writing use the analogy of light and dark for good and evil. And while that is an apt analogy, we lose a connection to the good things that are part of the night.
Humans are a very visual creature and we overly rely on our sense of sight. So, in the light, the input is greater. Our brains are busy processing visual information and making hundreds of micro decisions.
At night, it is harder to see. We slow down and open our eyes wider. We listen. We feel. We pay attention to keep ourselves safe. With the volume turned down on our sight, we have less information to process. We also become more present with the unfamiliar senses that connect us to the moment we are in.
It seems also that parts of our brain become more vocal. Those connected to our mortality, purpose, connection, identity.
And when we gather around campfires and hot tubs with people who are close to us, we create space to share each other's spiritual journey. To be the church. To hold each other up and to honor who we are were made to be.
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