We are so discontent.
We sit in our dorm rooms, trying endlessly and fruitlessly to write a paper on the Theology of Mushrooms or whatever, eyes glazed over, mouth dripping, lost in a sea of eternal monotonous academia and our mind starts to think, what am I doing here?
When we are not pleased with our lives, we become so demanding of God. We begin to ask why we’re so bored, or why our lives don’t feel so important right now. Where am I going in life? What is the meaning of anything? We start to get these ideas running through our head. We start to remind ourselves how much we are worth. Why am I not famous right now? Why am I not preaching in stadiums? Why am I not writing shocking new systematic theology? Why am I not the next greatest thing? I’m worth more than this.
Maybe I’m making silly assumptions, but this is a problem that affects me often. As soon as I get bored with the things around me, I feel like I’ve been let down. I feel like I’m worth more than I’m being used for. Its in these moments that it helps to get a good dose of nature.
I had a small and very nice revelation the other day. Something which helped to shock me out of my boredom, and something that I feel might be applicable to many of the things that might ail us emotionally. I was walking as the snow fell quietly down, and the wind blew in my ears, and I was really feeling how lovely it is, and it really hit me what we have been offered by God already.
God made you human. You have the opportunity to run your feet through blades of grass in the summer. He gave you the opportunity to sit in the snow and watch it silently blow down and rest upon the ground, placing a clean white blanket over the world. You can understand music, you can hear the wind blow. You can smell flowers. You can live. At the very least, you have been given everything. It’s sad when the silly pursuits of the world get in the way of that.
Sometimes we get afraid that we’re not going to have enough. We get scared we wont be enough, or do enough. What if we have to be poor? What if we end up friendless? (or worse, single) What if we don’t become the next greatest thing since sliced pudding? What if, if, if? You have already been given the opportunity to live, and until we get to heaven, and receive more than we could ever want or deserve, that can be quite a lot.