(Be forewarned: late nite posts might have the tendency to ramble and attempt magniloquence of prose that eventually flops like a dead fish. This one went a little longer than 300, so I trimmed it for a more pleasing view.)
There’s an odd mental transition that I’m sure everyone goes through as they enter their twenties. As home is no longer home. As the mechanics that turn the world begin to make sense, injustices and incongruities stand in stark, violent contrast against the backdrop of the world.
We were taught to play a game. To follow the rules. To play nice and share and not eat paste.
Now I enter the game as an independent player and I see how things ought to play out if everyone followed the rules – but our brokenness and wickedness cause each of the players to hoard for themselves. Which causes a finely-tuned system to break down and fall into disrepair as some parts of the system come crashing down on players who could easily be rescued by others, were they not too busy focusing on their own needs and desires.
The game is no longer a group effort with unified vision and purpose. It’s turned into a cutthroat free-for-all, where a roll of the dice determines whether a player is fated to luxury or poverty, extravagance or desperation. And the fate of the bankrupt of heart is often worse than the bankrupt of pocket.
The fall, the fall. My ears have been piqued to the groans of creation that cry out for the return of the coming King.
Like the Teacher of Ecclesiastes who cried, “Vanity, vanity – all is meaningless, a chasing after the sun.” The more he learned, the more he despaired at the meaninglessness and temporal nature of everything done on the earth.
The more I hear, the more the earth’s cry resounds within my own heart.
For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved…
I’ve been reading ‘The Sacred Romance’ by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge (you might know the latter from Wild at Heart). The authors refer to this longing for something more, something purere, something greater than that of this world as the Haunting and they say that it is a God-given desire designed to push us towards him.
The also gently remind me of something I forget every now and then: The Fall implies that mankind was greater than this initially. We were born for greater, designed for fuller and truer relationship than this. And we will return to that true fellowship sooner than we think.
Sometimes, caught in a moment of worship or prayer, I feel as though if I could just reach far enough I could physically take hold of what I’m looking for. But heaven always seems to lie just beyond my fingertips.
On my bed by night
I sought him whom my soul loves;
I sought him, but found him not.
I will rise now and go about the city,
in the streets and in the squares;
I will seek him whom my soul loves…
-Song of Solomon 3:1-2b
So a part of this is normal, growing up and becoming a real person melancholy. Some of the shin new-ness of the world is wearing off. But that just makes me thirst even more for the world that I was created for. And in the meantime, it drives me further into the arms of my Beloved, who is the only one who can truly satisfy this thirst inside.
I’m lovesick. I’m homesick for my true home.
And while I’m here… I’ll act in my Beloved’s stead and be about his business.
This isn’t blind optimism. It’s informed faith in something that’s greater than the depravity of man. It’s knowing that that which is in me is greater than that which is in the world.
Call it Jesus swagger.
(or don’t that would be terrible)
Until next time, until the next corner, I’ll be here reaching for, seeking after, be-ing in the presence of God.