My desires are a kind of soul-language. What I want reveals what I really value and what I’m willing to spend my life’s energies pursuing.
And I want God, but I want easy. And I fight the sure and steady lure to make my life more comfortable and convenient. I want to follow, but I’d rather not heave a cross on my back.
I don’t fully trust my desires. Maybe it’s because know what it means to have a divided heart, to be split right down the middle, wanting the good and the right and the beautiful, but still seduced by empty promises.
The Scriptures bear out the story of God’s great desire. The ways in which He’s acted in human history have not been compelled by obligation. He’s been subject to no one and nothing. What He’s done, He’s wanted to do. And what He’s wanted to do has always been right and good.
And me wanting can be so god-like and so good because it’s the desires of my heart, growing congruent with God’s, that give witness to new life in me. Seeds of grace, saplings of transformation. Wanting what it is that God wants can only happen by the invisible, interior work of the Spirit. And oh, to be in step with Him, is joy and peace and life.
And me wanting can be so cruel. Disappointments ripen.
And me wanting demands so much: commitment, courage.
And me wanting terrifies. I’m not in control.
Can I really be ready to trust that what He gives is good and when He gives it is perfect?
And so it is that I’m getting honest with what it is that I want. And where it is that I’m stuck. And how it is that I’m afraid. And where I’m reluctant to let go.
And surrender always does feel like a free-fall, sucking breath from wide-eyed me.