The Ache of Quiet
How do you find purpose in every-day life? was the question burning in our minds. How do you go from a job that has spoon-fed you "purpose" to the every-day job that leaves you groping for definition and identity?
A friend and I sat in the lamplight of our little cabin. We both held our pottery mugs firmly in hand while we passionately recounted the past year.
We'd both come off of ministry work where our purpose in life was clean-cut and defined: love people with everything you had, 24/7. Pretty simple and all-consuming, leaving little space for needing to personally fill in the blanks.
As we talked, we realized we'd been resting under the comfortable shadow of someone else defining our every-day purpose. And we both admitted that we'd been flailing to regain our identity since the ministry work had ended.
We both grew a bit solemn as the idea sunk in.
Is this the temptation our generation was chained to? Jumping from one spoon-fed purpose to the next? One organization, one grand adventure, one more ministry position where the identity was well-defined and all-consuming...without the laborsome work of finding joy and purpose in mundane life?
I can only write this because I'm completely guilty myself. Pressing into quietness--aloneness--is often harder than any sixteen-hour day of ministry work. Why? Because practicing faithfulness in every-day life is usually painful, purifying, raw work. God is working His way into all those crevices of our spirits which we've been able to block off and ignore in the busyness--in the shadow of someone else's definition of purpose for our day...week...life.
The kind of quiet where you confront every wall of your heart and grope around for security. The kind of quiet that feels like you might go mad. The kind of quiet that causes you to question your very existence. But the kind of quiet that can only land you at the foot of His Throne of Grace.
There, now in the shadow of Him alone, you are forced, once again, to find identity only in Christ.
We don't know how to be still. We don't know how to live out an "every-day version" of the purpose God has given us: to love and glorify Him. Maybe you're tempted to think why does it matter if I know how to live this way? Why can't I just keep on going from one thing to the next?
I believe the answer lies in God's heart: He wants our pure, devoted, undistracted satisfaction in Him.
Is it possible to be solely satisfied in Him without first having everything else stripped away? Isn't it in giving up all our earthly identities--no matter how noble, good, or worthy--that we find the True Treasure?
In calling out my own blindness, I hope you are encouraged. There is an overabundance of "opportunities that can't be missed"; when they become comfortable shadows to hide beneath, perhaps the answer is to retreat, be still, and sink into the agonizing quietness of confronting the "every-day version" of glorifying God.
A friend and I sat in the lamplight of our little cabin. We both held our pottery mugs firmly in hand while we passionately recounted the past year.
We'd both come off of ministry work where our purpose in life was clean-cut and defined: love people with everything you had, 24/7. Pretty simple and all-consuming, leaving little space for needing to personally fill in the blanks.
As we talked, we realized we'd been resting under the comfortable shadow of someone else defining our every-day purpose. And we both admitted that we'd been flailing to regain our identity since the ministry work had ended.
We both grew a bit solemn as the idea sunk in.
Is this the temptation our generation was chained to? Jumping from one spoon-fed purpose to the next? One organization, one grand adventure, one more ministry position where the identity was well-defined and all-consuming...without the laborsome work of finding joy and purpose in mundane life?
I can only write this because I'm completely guilty myself. Pressing into quietness--aloneness--is often harder than any sixteen-hour day of ministry work. Why? Because practicing faithfulness in every-day life is usually painful, purifying, raw work. God is working His way into all those crevices of our spirits which we've been able to block off and ignore in the busyness--in the shadow of someone else's definition of purpose for our day...week...life.
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But then in His grace, when the time has come, He shuts off all the opportunities to hide in another's given identity, and He creates quiet.The kind of quiet where you confront every wall of your heart and grope around for security. The kind of quiet that feels like you might go mad. The kind of quiet that causes you to question your very existence. But the kind of quiet that can only land you at the foot of His Throne of Grace.
There, now in the shadow of Him alone, you are forced, once again, to find identity only in Christ.
-----
Going out, pursuing purpose, is a beautiful thing and can be very glorifying to the Lord, of course. But as I've been settling into the quietness once again, I'm beginning to see the line where the glorifying service turns into self-service. It's often easier to fit into someone else's mold for your existence than to do the hard work of remembering the mold God fit you in first. I believe I've teetered on that line many a time, and now it grieves my heart to see others in the same place.We don't know how to be still. We don't know how to live out an "every-day version" of the purpose God has given us: to love and glorify Him. Maybe you're tempted to think why does it matter if I know how to live this way? Why can't I just keep on going from one thing to the next?
I believe the answer lies in God's heart: He wants our pure, devoted, undistracted satisfaction in Him.
Is it possible to be solely satisfied in Him without first having everything else stripped away? Isn't it in giving up all our earthly identities--no matter how noble, good, or worthy--that we find the True Treasure?
In calling out my own blindness, I hope you are encouraged. There is an overabundance of "opportunities that can't be missed"; when they become comfortable shadows to hide beneath, perhaps the answer is to retreat, be still, and sink into the agonizing quietness of confronting the "every-day version" of glorifying God.
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