I’ve got all these opportunities for spiritual nourishment. I’ve got dozens of translations of the Bible online or in a store. I’ve got all these churches, all these small groups. All these bookstores, all these books, cds, radio programs, retreats, conferences.
In this culture of abundance, I have so many opportunities.
And how do I respond to them? More often than I’d like to admit, I come to that opportunity, I say “eh, it’s not quite convenient enough. It’s not quite entertaining enough. I’ve got…other things to do.”
Whatever the reason, I say to those opportunities “no thanks.” I have an attitude towards my God that is way too cavalier, way too wishy-washy. It’s….casual.
Why am I like that? Why are you?
There was a man named David. He had a passionate pursuit for God. An earnestness, a hunger for God that makes me look ridiculous.
Why does he do that I don’t?
It could be that he tasted God…but no, that’s not it. I’ve done the same, and I’m still very casual about the whole thing.
Something I read struck me though. David once wrote, “O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you. My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you….
because I’m seeking you in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”
You and I are never going to pursue something that we don’t prefer. When I look at my pursuit of God, I must back up and look at my preference for God. And often, that preference is lukewarm at best.
Why is that? Maybe it’s because you and I don’t have the conviction that God is the only water available in the desert of our lives. We think he’s one of a number of options. You and I are living in a culture that is always telling us there are other diversions, other worthy pursuits, other goals – all of them equally capable of quenching our soul’s thirst.
And so we go to those options. And we take them up, and we look at them, and we say, “man this looks good. Maybe this will do it.”
David lived with the conviction that everything else was a mirage. You pick it up, you think it’s water, you drink it, and it’s simply sand. He believed he lived in a dry and weary land with no water – there was no other option.
What would happen if I believed the same? I think that all of a sudden, when I decide to live my life with a conviction that I’m walking through a deserted existence – one that is beautiful in so many ways, but when it comes to quenching my soul’s thirst is simply inadequate – then it transforms my relationship with God from something that’s a nicety, something that is convenient on Sundays (or every other Sunday, or at Christmas and Easter) into a necessity that my life is dependent on.
And isn’t that what we long for, in the deepest caverns of our hearts? We desperately want our souls to be filled to the brim with longing, with a desire that no man or army can ever subdue. We want to long after something.
And, if we’re honest with ourselves, I think we’d admit pretty readily that it’s not in shopping. It’s not in our jobs, or in our paycheck, or in that cool project we’re working on. It’s not in our writing, our music, our hobbies. It’s not in our friends, not in our families. Not in girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands or wives.
And the deeper we dig, the more we come to realize that it’s not in ourselves either.
We have a thirst that’s waiting to be quenched – I’ve seen it in everyone I’ve ever met. So few people find that oasis we’re dreaming of. For most of us, we waste our days and weeks and years drinking sand. We’re rich, respected, fat and happy. We have full social calendars and more friendly acquaintances than we can keep track of. We have sofas and iPods and Tivos and cars.
And we’re empty….dry.
Believing in a barren world in a culture hell-bent on maintaining its illusion of abundance. When the curtain is pulled away, you see it so clearly – you curse yourself that you didn’t see it earlier.
But you probably did – the trick is to keep the curtain pulled away. To never confuse the sand for water again.
And then? To pursue the true oasis with everything you have.
It’s scary, thinking about throwing caution to the wind and giving up the sand that seems to comfortable and safe. But if we pride our intellect and cherish our hearts…is sustained, purposeful ignorance really an option?
No. There is no other option.
