Living at the Edge

Last time, I wrote about what it means to walk to the Edge. To move to that scary, important, cutting edge place in life where we can see the amazing and awe-inspiring vistas of what might be - both the positive and the negative.It is good to walk out there to the edge from time time, to let yourself get to that knee-weakening, stomach-flipping spot where views of God's plan and will can sharpen into a clarity that can be just as knee-weakening and stomach-flipping as the highest precipice. It helps us to see beyond ourselves - beyond our limitations and our shortcomings. It can be staggering.But what if the Edge isn't just someplace you can choose to walk to for a bit or a visit? You know... walk out there to the Edge, look around, get inspired, find new resolve and direction, and then head back home. Back to the normal routine. Back to safe and comfortable surroundings. What if that wasn't an option? What if the Edge was it? What if everything in life - things both in and out of your control - brought you out to the Edge and just left you there?What if you had to live on the Edge?I grew up in a great part of Seattle called Ballard. When I was growing up and going to school there (even before the cheerleaders pulled the ladder out from under me and gave me my dislike for heights), Ballard was still a predominately Norweigan and Swedish part of town - fiercly proud of it's Norse heritage and eager to share it with the rest of the city whether through it's Seventeenth of May Lutefisk eating contest, or the Ballard High School Beaver's cheer of "Lutefisk, lutefisk. Lefsa, Lefsa. We're from Ballard High School - Yeah, sure! Ya Betcha!"Today, Ballard is an eclectic mixture of cultures, architecture, traditions, and people. It was then, and still is today, the proud home of one of the largest comercial fishing fleets in the Americas - including the ships and crews made famous on the TV show, "The Deadliest Catch." It was, and still is, home to a house my Grandpa Harton was absolutely convinced would slide down the side of the hill it was perched on. The folks who lived there, in an architecturally literal sense, lived on the edge. Actually, they lived over the edge since more than half of their house was built over thin air and supported by a few posts that reached from various levels of the hill to the bottom of house. It did look precarious, but it has stood up to the tests of time and weather.I have no idea what the lives of the people who live in that "edgy" house are like. I never met the family who lived there during my childhood. I would guess that there have been several others who have lived there in the two and a half decades since I moved away from Ballard, and I find myself wondering about their lives. Have they experienced life on the edge in any significant way beyond where their address puts them? Have they ever known the heart-pounding, faith-refining experience of standing alone on the very Edge between what has been and what might be? Between who they've been and who God calls them to become?Have you? Would you?I don't know what the Edge may be for you, but I know it's much closer than you think.And - I know that when you find yourself all alone out there on the Edge... you are never really alone.