The Island Series: Proximity
The Climate of Connection
When “Close Enough” Isn’t Enough
Frank Robinson once joked, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” In baseball, almost doesn’t matter. You either hit the ball, or you don’t. You either make contact, or you miss.
Life has times when being "close" seems good enough, and other times when it simply isn't.
Think about golf. When you face a long putt, your aim is usually just to get close. If you leave the ball a few feet from the hole, you can tap it in and move on. But you only score when the ball actually goes in. As the saying goes, “Drive for show, putt for dough.” Being close is okay, but it doesn’t count.
But sometimes, being "close" is a serious matter. Landing a plane is one of those times. You don’t want the pilot to almost reach the runway, or the wheels to be nearly lined up, or the descent to be just about right. In flying, being close can be dangerous. Precision is what keeps everyone safe.
Relationships work the same way. We never build trust when we “almost” keep a promise, or “partially” tell the truth. In the places where love, integrity, and covenant matter, “close” isn’t close enough.
And a lot of us try to live our spiritual lives like a lag putt. We get close to God and assume that’s good enough. We pray occasionally. We show up at church. We try to be decent people. We stay near the things of God, and we assume nearness equals connection.
We’re close… but not connected. Near… but not intimate. Aware… but not abiding.
It’s like sitting next to someone on a plane for three hours and never knowing their name. Proximity is not the same as relationship.
Jesus tells a story that shows this clearly: the parable of the Prodigal Son. The younger son is far away and hungry. The older son stays close to home but feels resentful and unhappy. As I wrote in the previous post, Posture, the younger son returns home and reestablishes not only proximity but connectedness during the feast. However, while the older son remains “close” to the father, he never experiences true “connectedness” with him.
Same Father. Same feast. Same grace. Different climate.
This is Proximity, the climate of nearness that makes flourishing possible.
Close vs. Connected
Scripture consistently distinguishes between being near God and being with God.
James writes:
“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8)
And Jesus says:
“Abide in Me… apart from Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:4–5)
For more on abiding, you can read “The Summit: Abide in Me” from The Journey Compass.
The Older Son: Close to Home, Yet Far in Heart
The older son never leaves home, remains physically near the father, but is emotionally distant.
“He became angry and was not willing to go in.” (v28)
He is in the father’s house but not experiencing the father’s heart. He hears the music. He sees the celebration. He knows the customs. He knows the rules. He knows the expectations. But he does not know the father’s joy.
He is close… but not connected.
He is near… but not intimate.
He is aware… but not abiding.
His world feels cold, not because the father changed, but because he closed his heart.
Island Parallel: The Villagers in the Caves
In The Island, I write about a second group of villagers who venture up the mountain's windward slopes. They stayed on the windward side, near the Bay, near the torches, near the warm currents. They stayed close to the island’s center, close to the old man’s world, close to the rhythms of abundance.
They withdrew.
Fear drove them into the shadows and caves. Suspicion drove them away from the fire and into isolation.
They lived near the old man and the village, but not in it. They were close to the abundance the windward side of the island provided but not connected to its provision of life.
Their climate became:
resentment
comparison
spiritual dryness
joyless survival
Just like the older son.
They were not leeward; they were not far away, chasing brighter skies. They were windward; they were geographically near the Bay, but spiritually distant. They were close enough to hear the horn, close enough to see the torches, close enough to smell the warm currents drifting through the trees.
But they were not connected.
They were near the old man’s presence, but far from his heart.
The Father’s Pursuit - And the Old Man’s
Just as the father goes out to the older son, the old man also reaches out to the cave-dwellers. He does this not in person, but by blowing the horn every morning and lighting the torches every night.
The horn is his call, and the torches are his invitation to come home.
He pursues those who stayed close but shut their hearts.
He pursues those who are near but not connected.
He pursues those who are aware but not abiding.
Proximity Is a Gift, Not an Achievement
The father tells the older son:
“You are always with Me, and everything I have is yours.” (v31)
True proximity, closeness, is a relationship that’s already been given. We don't need to try to earn our spot.
Flourishing grows where intimacy is present. Drought grows where intimacy is absent.
You can be near the things of God and still miss God's heart.
You can be close to the rhythms of faith and still far from the joy of faith.
You can be surrounded by spiritual activity and still spiritually dry.
Proximity isn’t about where you are. It’s about being connected.
Why Proximity Matters Today
Many believers live “close enough” to God to feel safe, but not close enough to be changed.
We pray when we need something. We worship when we feel something. We obey when it’s convenient. We stay near the things of God - sermons, songs, community - but our hearts remain guarded.
We’re close… but not connected. Near… but not surrendered. Aware… but not abiding.
Being close feels safe, but it doesn’t change you.
Just like the villagers in the caves. Just like the older son.
We can sit in church for years and never enter the celebration. We can hear the music and never join the dance. We can know the Scriptures and never know the joy. We can be near the Father’s house and never experience the Father’s heart.
Proximity matters because intimacy matters. Intimacy matters because it leads to real growth.
The Climate of Proximity
When we stay close and draw near, the atmosphere of our hearts changes:
fear softens
joy rises
trust deepens
obedience becomes relational
presence becomes natural
Flourishing is not random. It grows where intimacy grows.
You cannot flourish at a distance. You cannot thrive on “almost.” You cannot live on awareness alone.
Proximity is the climate of connection. It’s warmth that helps us grow.
Just like the Bay. Just like the warm currents. Just like the old man’s invitation: “Come and see.”
Practicing Proximity
First, take time this week to repeatedly practice each of these three prayer exercises:
Set a one-minute timer once a day. Sit quietly and pray, “Father, I draw near to You.”
Every time you plug in your phone to charge today, pray: “Keep me connected, not just close.”
Each time you walk through a doorway, whisper: “I step toward You.”
Second, read Luke 15:20 and Luke 15:28 three times today … and tomorrow. Let repetition turn pursuit into presence.
Our Heavenly Father draws near to us long before we draw near to Him. Leverage these prayers and Scriptures to help each of us close the distance in our hearts and make intimacy our climate.
In His Fields, Jon