I rode the bus today. Gosh I miss that. It was incredibly inefficient for the short trip I was taking, but it worked out. I just love being able to sit back and read on the bus.

One thing I’ve forgotten about public transit is the sort of people you see. I don’t mean to stereotype, I’m just reflecting on my experience. It’s an odd assortment, slanted to the type of people a suburban white kid like me doesn’t normally hang around. It’s public transportation, so invariably you have members of the lower class who don’t have any other method of transportation. These are the kind of people you don’t normally see in a white-washed suburban church. These are also the kind of people I envision Jesus hanging out with.

While riding the bus it struck me how apart I am from these people. I rode the bus for two and a half years with pride. I spent a hours every week with people not normally in my social sphere, and I thought it was good.

Today I realized that while that may be a fine and dandy experience, I can’t think for one minute that I’ve been with these people. Our location is the only commonality we share. They don’t know me and I don’t know them. I may sit next to them on the bus, but I still see them differently, still judge them, still don’t have a clue how to relate to them.

Just because you’re with people doesn’t mean you belong. Just because you sit next to someone or go to the same church or eat at the same restaurant doesn’t mean anything. Without relationship, without fellowship, and maybe even without love — because it takes love to overcome our programmed social boundaries — you’ve got nothing.