Take This Cup: Chai Communion
I had coffee with Cameron Conant today.
Yes, the Cameron Conant.
From Cape Verde.
That description kinda sets him up as an international jetsetter off to sample the world’s food and art. In actuality, he was home from the Peace Corps for the holidays. (The Peace Corps bit making him either more or less fascinating than a jetsetter…depending on who you are.)
It was basically written before the world began that I had to see Cameron while he was in Jackson. Because Cameron is one of the few people in the faith and publishing arena whose life has also played out in this city. And we’re just about the same age (okay, since you pried it out of me, he’s older).
That puts Cameron and I in the same, very specific, very niche, albeit very small boat–stuffed in it alongside Mary Darling and Ron Martoia who also hail from Jackson Co. and who also write in the faith and spirituality genre.
Around here, its a rare thing to find someone niched in some of the same ways I am. Jackson is NOT a metropolitan hot spot packed with so many techies and artists that creativity just gushes from the faucets…like I imagine happens in California (the whole state), Nashville…oh and don’t get me started on my Atlanta envy.
Cameron and I settle into an upstairs window-side table (upstairs to avoid all the Christian papparazzi that of course overruns Jackson;)). And we have a sort of A to Z conversation; a sampler platter of all things faith and culture. There are a lot of items to cover: books he’s written, books I’ve written, books we’re reading, spiritual journeys, career paths, relationships…oh, and most interestingly, how the kids in Cape Verde call Cameron “Asian” (because they only know two people groups-African and Asian)…and how people there–as a rule–say “no” by wagging their finger in your face.
That would never get old.
I’m reminded somewhere in all of it of our rooted-ness. Growing not just from the same geographic dot on the map, but the likeness of being planted in a common vision for human life.
This sense, the instinctive knowing that Cameron and I are like minded, that we are grasping at some of the same intentions, always catches my soul…like the sudden breath taken when you discover a surprise party in your honor. I’m amused, taken aback, that there are more people out there…beyond the little crevice of my life…who have their hopes and dreams pinned in the faith.
Instances like these trip some sort of internal homing signal: the spirit that is in me is the spirit in you. Our souls are stirred by the same muse.
Coffee has a way then of shining brightness into the winter months. Of reminding me that I am teamed–not just with my local Prison City alum–but with so many people who are bonded in trying to make sense of life while chasing God’s intentions together. For that moment, I feel less alone…not that I’ve been feeling alone…but I guess I mean I feel more together in that moment.
Together with Cameron and Ron and Mary. With alumni scattered around–Jaime in Oakland, Erik in Detroit, Wes in Philly, Robert in Los Angeles, Jeff and Andre in ATL (the alumni list could go on a while so I’ll stop there). And with those people who maybe I meet once, or who I only occasionally cross paths with, the Steve Argue, Ray Reeves, Jeff Pecks of the world.
I always know its there, but sometimes–through a cup of chai with a friend–it strikes me. Its Jackson, but its more than Jackson. A more transcendent community strings us all together. And this moment taking a cup, remembering Jesus, remembering the people who are teamed in his way of life, is communion all on its own.