My taste in reading could be politely called “eclectic,” or more critically challenged as “schizophrenic.” I’m all over the map. During any given week I’m likely to have several books “going” at once. Between my desk, the night table by my bed and the living room ottoman, the present inventory includes a two-pound biography of Pope John Paul II, a novel about the Sudan, another Pulitzer-winning novel I’m re-reading slowly because it was so good the first time, a stack of miscellaneous news magazines and an old Nancy Drew book. (I am not kidding about Nancy.)

But the book that keeps moving with me from room to room is titled “Bono.” It’s a Q&A interview of Irish U2 rocker Paul Hewson, known for decades by a single moniker, and it’s a fascinating read.

Bono’s a man of many “titles” – singer, songwriter, political activist, believer, husband, father, rock star. His words are alternately insightful, humble, self-aware, irritating and, most often, arresting. I’ve found myself scribbling phrases and bits of paragraphs down in odd places, wanting to think more of them later.

His interviewer prods him frequently to describe the relief work he and his wife Ali have participated in Ethiopia, and he’s mostly reticent on the details. But one descriptive passage caught me: “The camp was about feeding, but myself and Ali were in charge of the orphanage. We slept in a tent. In the morning, as the mist would lift, we would see thousands of people walking in lines toward the camp, people who had been walking for great distances through the night – men, women, children, families who’d lost everything, taking a few possessions on a voyage to meet mercy.”

That last phrase was the one that stopped me cold. “Taking a few possessions on a voyage to meet mercy.” It was Bono’s description of the hungry, impoverished people he saw coming to the camp in hopes of receiving food. But to me, it was a worthy description of what I’d like my life to be.

It’s not about storing up stuff. It can’t be – because you really can’t take it with you. This time I, you, we, have here is not all there is, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, either. It really is a journey to somewhere else. And we make it expectantly, hungry, and more full of hope than anything else. If we make it well, we won’t be carrying much. We can’t, and expect to travel far.

I love that phrase, and I want to use it. If someone asks me what I’m about, I’d like to be able to truthfully say, “I’m taking a few possessions on a voyage to meet mercy.” And I’d like for that to be true. Only, in my “version” of the rock star’s epigram, I’d like to take others with me, and my “mercy” would have a capital “M.” You and I would call Him Jesus.

“If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me.” Luke 9:23, NASB

© Leigh McLeroy 2005