God has made everything beautiful for its own time. For its own time. But don’t we want to just get through it sometimes? Most of the time? Don’t we want to shut out the times that aren’t particularly lovely? Or sometimes the loveliness is too great and we shield our eyes. But we are told there is purpose and beauty in each season, in each circumstance. That eternity is in our hearts, but we are only able to see what’s right in front of us, and that’s okay. This makes us uncomfortable because it calls us to be openhanded with everything we’ve got: the number of our days, our life’s work, our play, even our communion with God and man. We are not meant to see it all at once. We are meant to breathe in today, and only today.
God is calling us to be active participants in our own lives, and collectively we are finding it to be a challenge. The way of satisfaction and contentment is out there. The way of faith and courage is laid before us. I didn’t see them so blatantly before, but now I realize God has been offering me these nuggets of fresh air my whole life—it was just up to me to stop and notice. . .
I don’t have the secret to life; I don’t have the formula for monastic contentment or the impressive ability to be present. But I do know it’s something in the quieting of the soul. The resting of the eyes, the still place where we stop and listen. When the Spirit of God is allowed a voice. When we are brave enough to listen to what he has to say. It’s in the deep places, the ones that take us to maturity. It’s in the courage to listen, yes, but also the courage to obey. To be fruitful right now, exactly where we are. And it’s dang hard. But it’s good and it’s real.