where waves grow sweet

The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.  He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145:18-19

I would love to bring you something deep or spiritual tonight. Maybe I could; it’s hard to say. But the thing I seem to be competing against is time. There simply seems to be a lack of it. Which brings me to my fairly superficial post, which can hopefully be written with great speed.

A passionate person, I think I’ve always been. But, until recently, I never had worthwhile things to be passionate about. The fact that there are now so many things I really, really want to be doing is exciting and enchanting. But when those things are set alongside the obligatory parts of my day, there is just a shortage of time or a shortage of sleep or a shortage of some other essential life product.

What it feels like is that I’ve got a meal planned out. I go to the grocery store, going carefully down my list to make sure I’ve grabbed all the ingredients. I get to the register only to find that the items in my basket add up to more than the cash in my wallet. So I’ve got to put something back. But what? If I had a box of donuts or magazine I’d grabbed at the checkout stand, I’d reluctantly put them back and head out with the ingredients for my meal. But I don’t. So I stare blankly at the contents of my basket, confused and unsure about which part of the meal is unnecessary.

Maybe I’m being melodramatic. Probably. I’m a passionate person, remember? But my time mostly seems to be very purposeful and intentional, with very little extra in the basket to remove.* At the end of most days, I arrive at the register with too many items and not enough cash. And a sense of confusion about what to put back. So, often I blow off my limitations, stay up really late, and put it all on my figurative credit card. But then I’m in debt all week and crash by Friday.

This simple matter of time points to the greater tension I feel of wanting to break fully through into a new place, but being stuck in and obligated to an old place. I won’t go into the details of this right now, but it is bringing this internal sense of desperation. Maybe like a butterfly feels when it decides it’s time to break free from that straightjacket of a cocoon. Jeez. Now I know I’m being melodramatic.

What this really makes me wonder is how the rest of humanity handles this. Do you go without doing the things you love to do? Do you just measure them out in smaller doses? It breaks my heart to think of knowing what you love to do and not being able to do it. Or to love people and not to have time for them. I’m now crying at the thought. But maybe it’s about surrendering every single thing and every single person, letting go of every sense of entitlement about personal passions and egotism about importance, and allowing God to make room for the things that matter in the bigger scope of his view.

I’m not sure what all this means and where this process will lead. But, despite the tears, I’m sure it will be good.

*In saying this, I do realize that my life to many would look like a basket full of donuts and magazines.