Carry That Weight

I've been dreaming about backpacks.  It's not really as mysterious or strange as it sounds.  I recently ordered an Osprey Aether 70, for those of you not obsessed with backpacking gear, it's a very fancy, and expensive, internal frame backpack.  I got word that the extra large harness and hip belt, which I need for my extra large personage, are back ordered and that I will have to wait for about a month until my brand new, fancy ticket to adventure arrives in the mail.  So, I've been dreaming about backpacks.
I've also been dreaming about what I'm going to do with that backpack.  I'm going to take Jack on the Appalachian Trail through the Shenandoah this spring, I'm going to walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain with my Dad next spring (all 500 miles this time).  I'm investing a bit of money in this pack, and waiting not so patiently, because I want it to fit right, I want it to be a good tool for carrying weight.  I have done my research and looked around and I have faith that this is going to be the best backpack for me.
Funny thing though, I know I'm going to hate it at some point.  It's just the nature of baggage, even the baggage you need.  I'm going to look at that pack, in all it's high tech, ergonomic design, and absolutely wish that I never had to pick it up ever again.  It doesn't matter how well it does it's job, it doesn't matter how carefully I have planned the load, packed the load, or how well conditioned I am to carry it, at some point I'm going to resent it.
Churches can be like that too.
Community is a very necessary thing for folks on a spiritual journey (which in one way or another is all of us).  You can't go it alone, if you do, you'll end up lost and starving.  But sometimes communities are baggage, no matter how good they are, sometimes they feel like a burden.  They are baggage that you can't live without though, they hold your shelter, your clothes, your food, the tools you need to survive in a wilderness.  As much as you think you'd just like to walk without it for a while, when night falls or you get hungry, you're going to wish you hadn't left it behind.