“Remote but not isolated” is how we described our former home. Yellowknife, capital of the Northwest Territories, is about 250 miles south of the Arctic Circle. The city is perched on the edge of a lake, which in winter can be crossed on an ice road to reach the nearest neighboring village. In midwinter there is weak sunlight from 10 till 2. For the other 20 hours, northern lights frolic in curtains of color across the entire, dark sky. Caribou range close enough to town that workers can hunt on their lunch break. Even with a bridge over the river, when ice is forming in fall or dissolving in spring, minimal trucking means high grocery prices. It’s remote.
From the first chapter of John’s Gospel, the disciples follow Jesus. They are out on the road with him, witnessing miracles and listening to teachings, feeding thousands and seeing him walk on water. They are set apart to live the weirdest daily lives since Elijah. And they are separated from parents and families: their dear ones exist remotely from the disciples’ place and daily endeavor, from conversation about what matters and what they are seeking.
There are days coming when Jesus will be remote to them. Not stand-offish or emotionally distant but literally absent and unavailable. The life of abundant love will become lonely, and the disciples will be vulnerable. Friends found will be the lifeline—friends called, actually, not so much found: “You did not choose me but I chose you.”
