Was I Made for More than This?

Raise your hand if you've ever asked this.

Now put your hand down, because it looks odd to raise your hand while looking at the screen.

Were you? Were you made for more than what your typical week includes? Or, were you made pretty much for the life you presently have? Does your life approximate what God specifically designed you for?

I don't ask assuming "yes" or "no" for you. But I want you to think about it. Maybe you've hit that sweet spot of feeling like your "this" is exactly what God made you for. Maybe not.

Be careful of what "more" means, though. "More" does not necessarily mean more money, more recognition, more power, more reach, more of a career, or more toys and experiences. "More" could mean more depth, more honesty, more genuine relationships, more clarity, or more of some other intangible. Whatever the "more" is, do you feel like you were made for it, but aren't experiencing it?

In part, all followers of Christ should feel this. We live in the "Already, But Not Yet" Kingdom, of which we have great foretastes, but not the full measure. We were in fact made for more than this. In Christ, we were made for the full-on, unveiled Kingdom of God. And ideally, we should feel that nagging sense that we were made for more than what we presently experience.

I would also venture a guess that most of us were made for more than what we have of this life, too. What God designed us for, saved us for, equipped us for, and calls us to is almost certainly more than the life we each live today. I say this not to drive to guilt, but to open our eyes that we have not set our sights for our lives as high as God has.

C.S. Lewis wrote in The Weight of Glory:

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

However, the "more" in our lives may have absolutely nothing to do with quitting our jobs, going to seminary, becoming missionaries, and living in huts (although it might). "More" may have nothing to do with doing more at your local church (although it might).

But what if "more" meant that what you are presently doing, you are to continue doing, but with more intentionality for the Kingdom of God? The cab driver need not turn in his license and pack for Indonesia. Perhaps he need only to understand that driving a cab can be a very full way of living in the Kingdom of God. Rather than merely collecting fares, the cab driver enables others to thrive in their lives. Perhaps he can provide a positive personality for someone who has had to handle angry customers all day. He might even ask to pray for (or with) a customer who shares some bad news. He can understand that by God's sovereignty, he is put in contact with hundreds of people in a month - people who may never step foot in a church. He can train others to not only drive cabs, but to drive cabs in ways that serve God.

Perhaps you were made for more than this, and perhaps that "more" is that you continue doing what you're doing, but with much more of an idea that you live in the "Already, But Not Yet" Kingdom especially in the work God has for you to do.

Blind Path

Last week, I attended a retreat for a non-profit organization I serve on the board with, called Hungry 4 Him. We exist to partner with those who serve vulnerable children, which to date for us has meant orphans in Western Kenya. The Board meets in person every year or so, and online the rest of the year. This particular meeting also included a retreat, led by a licensed counselor who also conducts outdoors-themed retreats.

Our goal for the retreat was to focus on trusting God more. This involved several discussions of various passages as well as some outdoors activities - rock-climbing and other exercises. I was not physically well enough to do the rock climbing, but I was able to participate in another trust exercise. Some of us were blindfolded and the rest of us helped guide the blind along a rather uneven path, which lots of rocks, branches, level changes, and a drop off to one side.

So I guided another board member mostly by voice, and a little by touch, to navigate successfully down the path. There were quite a few places where an ankle could get seriously turned, but we made it just fine. Then we switched roles. However, it was my core muscles that were in pain - the very muscles one uses by instinct if they start to stumble. One wrong move, and I'd be racked with pain. But we went for it.

My guide used more touch than I had provided, which I needed. It was difficult to trust someone to go forward, but we worked it, getting over rocks, staying away from the ledge, and avoiding low branches. I was taking very small steps, but all in the right direction. I was surprised when the said we had made it - it seemed too short of a walk. But after lifting the blindfold, sure enough, we were back where we started.

Here's what struck me: I looked back at the path I had just navigated. I couldn't believe it! It looked far more perilous than how it felt. I navigated that? How could I do that? I could barely walk an uneven path that day by sight, and I had gotten through a somewhat narrow, variegated path with big rocks and a steep ledge. But because I was not allowed to see and my guide gave me what I needed to go forward, I made it through a path fraught with more dangers than I knew.

And so the lesson about the Christian life: We are mostly blind to all that goes on in God's plan and the heavenly realms. God intentionally prevents us from knowing all that endangers us, as an act of grace. And He guides us - by His voice and by touch - to take very small steps, but all in the right direction. Sometimes, it is difficult to trust someone to go forward. He allows us to navigate situations fraught with more dangers than we realize in order to progress to our destination. When the veil is lifted, we will be able to look back and see exactly what He's taken us through. We'll be surprised when we hear we have made it - it will seem too short of a walk.

For a Feeling

I mentioned in this column last November my fascination of how much time and money we spend on sports for the main purpose of feeling something specific. That's really why we pour so much into sports - so that we will feel something. For most of us, that's our main takeaway from sports. In that article, I also mentioned why I didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing. We give sports so much because we want to feel something specific.

The same thing is generally true about most of life. We work in our jobs to feel something (security, success, worth, significance). We get married because we want to feel something (loved, safe, known). We watch movies, go on vacation, and have hobbies to feel something. People abuse drugs to feel something ... or to feel nothing. We choose our politics because of how we want to feel (and this year, "feel" is part of a prominent campaign slogan). We have oomph in our activities because we so strongly demand to feel something specific.

Our faith activities, no matter how noble we want to be, are often in pursuit of a feeling just as much. Gathering together on a Sunday morning, being in a Bible study, having Quiet Time (or not having Quiet Time), participating in (or arguing about) music, volunteering with the kids, bringing a crib to a family in need, sewing dresses for orphans ... let's face it ... we do these things at least in part in order to feel something in particular. Perhaps we want to feel something noble (obedient, faithful, helpful, closeness to God, purification after confessing sin) or perhaps we want to feel something a little more self-centered (significance, heroism, superiority, self-righteous), but we definitely look forward to this activity producing that feeling.

Feelings are a big motivator in every aspect of our lives, including how we live out our faith. This is true whether we want to admit it or not.

It's true (I most firmly believe), and furthermore, I believe it's unavoidable. It's not even necessarily wrong.

If I'm right that this is unavoidable, rather than deny it, let's embrace it. You can confess it with me, "Much of my motivation to do anything is so that I will feel something in particular." Denying this entraps us in a loop of continually denying what is universally true, and as long as we're in this loop, we have trouble making real progress.

Let's admit that we're moving mountains in order to feel something, stop long enough to evaluate what feelings we're chasing, and then assess which of those feelings are futile to chase. Or even which of those feelings are counterproductive and even harmful to chase. What feelings, then, should I be chasing instead? What do I need to do to chase those feelings? Am I willing for God to be the only truly fulfillment of the feelings He wants me to have?

In the West, we fancy ourselves thinking, rational beings, motivated by what's smart and logical. (That's how we want to feel, anyway.) However, we want to feel! How we spend money proves it. Even "scientific" shows on TV are produced in a way to make the audience feel something. Don't fancy yourself more like Spock than you truly are. Embrace that you're motivated by chasing feelings, and then work on which feelings you want to pursue.