mattbraunlin
Member
Be All There
Over the course of my life, and most especially these last few years, living in the moment has never been my strong suit. I have continually flown into the sky, glutting on self-indulgent fantasies of a glorious future. And of course, often getting angry at God for making not one of these fantasies a reality.
This blurb is an attempt to put into my own words that great and solemn paradox of a walk with Jesus Christ: that we must forsake our futures, leaving them in his hands, and devote ourselves to the moment.
This issue is particularly poignant for me, because it is true in the most literal and absolute sense: I have no idea what my future even is. I don't even have a target to aim at. I am holding Christ's hand, with no view of even two steps ahead of me in sight.
I sometimes envy those with conventional callings. A young person who knows they are called to be a teacher or a lawyer or a pharmacist has a relatively simple path to follow. A clearly defined, structured and foreseeable system has been established for them by our society. Even an aspiring priest has such a privilege. Their path is long, difficult, and expensive, but it is tangible.
My education was a fifteen-year course in the depths of hell. An extraordinarily painful and miserable and dangerous road which seemed to go nowhere at all. Not until three and a half years ago, at age 34, did I receive even the faintest glimmer of why God put me on this earth. And even now, I still can't see my destination. In light of all this, I feel I can trust in God's mercy and understanding in what has become my addiction to the future.
But I have learned at least a little humility. I have come to understand that I am not the only one who has suffered. And as such I am coming to accept the fact that I am no exception to this paradox. That my suffering, my gifts and my faith do not make my future my own. I serve God. He, not I, is the author of my life.
Not all the news is bad, of course. Since that day in June 2020, when I got my first powerful taste of what God wanted me to do, I have grown incredibly close to him. He has revealed so very much to me. Particularly in the last couple of months God has been intimately at my side, and the fruits of his good work are becoming more vivid in my thoughts, words and actions.
Such is this blurb. This conscious attempt to balk at that baited hook which pulls my spirit from the moment, into the useless swamp of myself.
One good thought that I've had is that the moment is not some static prison. God is not a sadist. Here in this tiny point of time God has not abandoned me. Rather, the moment is where all change is built. It is the only place where beautiful intimacy with God can exist. And intimacy with God is the prerequisite for all spiritual growth. It is the currency, so to speak, that pays for the education of getting to know God. And of course, in and of itself, there is no greater blessing.
That is why I remain in this difficult chapter of my life. By God's great grace and mercy his plan for me remains, though quite different -and better- than I had originally surmised. But I have not yet reached the place where I need to be. More work remains. I am not yet what God would have me be. My hands must go still higher in surrender.
Today in particular was excellent. Even before crystallizing these thoughts in writing I made a conscious and mostly successful effort to focus on what lay before me: my job, my friends, and prayer. I pray to my Saviour that this would be the norm, now and wherever he plans to take me.
Over the course of my life, and most especially these last few years, living in the moment has never been my strong suit. I have continually flown into the sky, glutting on self-indulgent fantasies of a glorious future. And of course, often getting angry at God for making not one of these fantasies a reality.
This blurb is an attempt to put into my own words that great and solemn paradox of a walk with Jesus Christ: that we must forsake our futures, leaving them in his hands, and devote ourselves to the moment.
This issue is particularly poignant for me, because it is true in the most literal and absolute sense: I have no idea what my future even is. I don't even have a target to aim at. I am holding Christ's hand, with no view of even two steps ahead of me in sight.
I sometimes envy those with conventional callings. A young person who knows they are called to be a teacher or a lawyer or a pharmacist has a relatively simple path to follow. A clearly defined, structured and foreseeable system has been established for them by our society. Even an aspiring priest has such a privilege. Their path is long, difficult, and expensive, but it is tangible.
My education was a fifteen-year course in the depths of hell. An extraordinarily painful and miserable and dangerous road which seemed to go nowhere at all. Not until three and a half years ago, at age 34, did I receive even the faintest glimmer of why God put me on this earth. And even now, I still can't see my destination. In light of all this, I feel I can trust in God's mercy and understanding in what has become my addiction to the future.
But I have learned at least a little humility. I have come to understand that I am not the only one who has suffered. And as such I am coming to accept the fact that I am no exception to this paradox. That my suffering, my gifts and my faith do not make my future my own. I serve God. He, not I, is the author of my life.
Not all the news is bad, of course. Since that day in June 2020, when I got my first powerful taste of what God wanted me to do, I have grown incredibly close to him. He has revealed so very much to me. Particularly in the last couple of months God has been intimately at my side, and the fruits of his good work are becoming more vivid in my thoughts, words and actions.
Such is this blurb. This conscious attempt to balk at that baited hook which pulls my spirit from the moment, into the useless swamp of myself.
One good thought that I've had is that the moment is not some static prison. God is not a sadist. Here in this tiny point of time God has not abandoned me. Rather, the moment is where all change is built. It is the only place where beautiful intimacy with God can exist. And intimacy with God is the prerequisite for all spiritual growth. It is the currency, so to speak, that pays for the education of getting to know God. And of course, in and of itself, there is no greater blessing.
That is why I remain in this difficult chapter of my life. By God's great grace and mercy his plan for me remains, though quite different -and better- than I had originally surmised. But I have not yet reached the place where I need to be. More work remains. I am not yet what God would have me be. My hands must go still higher in surrender.
Today in particular was excellent. Even before crystallizing these thoughts in writing I made a conscious and mostly successful effort to focus on what lay before me: my job, my friends, and prayer. I pray to my Saviour that this would be the norm, now and wherever he plans to take me.