Sometimes I listen to particularly enthralling songs and I want to climb inside of them – right down into their music.
Sometimes I look at boats resting on a canvas of sea, and I want to leap aboard and set sail for somewhere that doesn’t exist on this planet.
Sometimes I run along suburban streets in the evening mist – while lamps flicker to life and the wind settles and stirs – and I want to run forever, disappearing into the solemn and sacred quiet of the falling rain and the pale gray horizon.
Sometimes I stand by my window at dawn, watching the tips of the Evergreens catch fire with the ascent of the morning sun, and I want to fly right up to those treetops and drink every ounce of that sunlight down to the last drop, until I am part of it and it is part of me.
Sometimes I look at a photograph, and I want to dive headfirst into it – the feeling, the beauty, the composition.
And sometimes my heart feels as though it might burst with emotions and achings and appetites I can neither articulate nor comprehend.
I am always looking, whether in waking consciousness or in subconscious slumber, for the further up and further in – for love, for beauty, for glory, for vastness, for sea and sky and stars and shores that are ten thousand times the proportions of those on this earth.
God, help me. I was not made for here. Neither were you.
We can have our finest day of triumph and attention and fame and thrill and glory… And yet we lay our heads on our pillows to sleep and find that the very same hunger pangs sit in our gut, perhaps sharper than ever. One leaf of lettuce cannot feed an appetite for steak. Our hunger is for heaven, not earth.
That is why our deepest longings always and eventually seem to pierce clean through the objects on this planet to which we attach them – like an arrow through parchment paper. Our desires devour every temporal treasure at which we aim them, and we are none the fuller for feasting at the table of this world.
Oh, that I could get this Truth through my slow and muddy brain.
I want God. I want His Presence. I want Jesus.
I want Jesus.
I have wounded and crippled and confused and erred too often because I have attached my wants to objects never meant to carry such a weight of desire. Only the shoulders that have carried the Cross of Calvary can carry – and satisfy – these eternal longings etched upon my soul.
Sometimes I am so unbearably hungry, and I scour the rubbish bins for a morsel to eat.
God, help me lift these weary limbs and take the seat you have saved for me at Your lavish table.
Sometimes I forget that You alone are the most marvelous and poignant satisfaction.
Remind me, my God.
“You will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand.” -Psalm 16:11