Meaning
I look at the TV and see many different things I could be doing right now. Activities like skiing, surfing, fishing, amusement parks, chasing criminals, being a criminal, adultery, saving lives, striving for popularity, shopping, building things, remodeling a house, gardening, being abducted by aliens, being an alien…
I saw the evening soap operas playing out their stories of intertwined lives, and the really messed up ways people deal with one another. On the next channel a comedian made jokes about the same kind of relationships. I wondered about the church and what it says is important about how to live life. I wondered about the various activities and how each is weighed in the balance of God. If I garden, but do so to the neglect of others, I will be judged. If I party, but alternately feed the poor, what am I really?
Underneath these ponderings, I wonder what my purpose is, or if I have a purpose. I can choose a variety of paths, but my time is limited. Many things I put off are now unavailable to me, while other paths have opened. Some things are limited by age and ability. Money and time are other limits. Morality and judgment are always with me to limit my desires. A thread of God’s reality weaves through it all, reminding me of His touch and power that have tangibly shaken my body.
I am now 42. I don’t feel really much older than when I was 25 or so, though my circumstances, knowledge, and expectations are much different. Part of me wants to go back and start over with the knowledge I have now. The rest of me realizes this will never be, and tries to see the best in what I have and can be.
I see myself at a potential dead end professionally. There are possibilities and a looming threat of obsolescence. Some prizes only go to the brave who forge a path of their own. I may have to take on this nature, as the alternative is poison to my soul. Perhaps I overstate the situation, but this is how it feels. Either way, will I be meaningful?
I could die tonight and all my stuff will go to another; all my hopes and dreams stop; all my professional goals become instantly meaningless; all that is left is Jesus and me. What will my judgment look like? Will he tell me “Well done!” or something much less? I don’t think he will kick me out, though I have considered that. He said that many who think they should be “in” will be thrown out violently, where they will weep bitterly and grit their teeth at what could have been, but never will be. How utterly sad. But when I compare myself with the persecuted, the faithful missionaries, the evangelists who hazard their lives daily, the kind souls that feed and clothe the poor…I don’t think I add up to much. At the dinner table of the feast, I intend to head to the furthest spot from the head. Jesus said to do that anyhow. I just might belong there anyway. This isn’t a self-effacing groveling; I really don’t see what good I have been to the kingdom, outside of helping a few people. Certainly nothing like my brothers and sisters have done.
In the end, all the stuff that the TV says is important fades to nothing. It is like how the old TVs used to shut off: the sound would stop, and the picture would shrink to a small dot, which lingered for a few seconds and then disappeared. Knowing that doesn’t tend to affect my desires for the stuff of the world, or the ways of the world. But Jesus said the difference between those who bear fruit and those who don’t is understanding what the word of God means and acting on it (Parable of the sower, parable of the house on the rock).
There is more than one candy apple being dangled in front of my eyes. But I have been down that road of imagination before and it is a bitter heartbreaking thing. It isn’t mine to enjoy. I choose the way that God has made for me. I pray that I continue in it. It isn’t flashy or exciting, but it is real and it is good. I could still die tonight, but I want my eternity to be with Jesus. I may not be up near the throne, but at least I’ll be there, and He will know my name.
I saw the evening soap operas playing out their stories of intertwined lives, and the really messed up ways people deal with one another. On the next channel a comedian made jokes about the same kind of relationships. I wondered about the church and what it says is important about how to live life. I wondered about the various activities and how each is weighed in the balance of God. If I garden, but do so to the neglect of others, I will be judged. If I party, but alternately feed the poor, what am I really?
Underneath these ponderings, I wonder what my purpose is, or if I have a purpose. I can choose a variety of paths, but my time is limited. Many things I put off are now unavailable to me, while other paths have opened. Some things are limited by age and ability. Money and time are other limits. Morality and judgment are always with me to limit my desires. A thread of God’s reality weaves through it all, reminding me of His touch and power that have tangibly shaken my body.
I am now 42. I don’t feel really much older than when I was 25 or so, though my circumstances, knowledge, and expectations are much different. Part of me wants to go back and start over with the knowledge I have now. The rest of me realizes this will never be, and tries to see the best in what I have and can be.
I see myself at a potential dead end professionally. There are possibilities and a looming threat of obsolescence. Some prizes only go to the brave who forge a path of their own. I may have to take on this nature, as the alternative is poison to my soul. Perhaps I overstate the situation, but this is how it feels. Either way, will I be meaningful?
I could die tonight and all my stuff will go to another; all my hopes and dreams stop; all my professional goals become instantly meaningless; all that is left is Jesus and me. What will my judgment look like? Will he tell me “Well done!” or something much less? I don’t think he will kick me out, though I have considered that. He said that many who think they should be “in” will be thrown out violently, where they will weep bitterly and grit their teeth at what could have been, but never will be. How utterly sad. But when I compare myself with the persecuted, the faithful missionaries, the evangelists who hazard their lives daily, the kind souls that feed and clothe the poor…I don’t think I add up to much. At the dinner table of the feast, I intend to head to the furthest spot from the head. Jesus said to do that anyhow. I just might belong there anyway. This isn’t a self-effacing groveling; I really don’t see what good I have been to the kingdom, outside of helping a few people. Certainly nothing like my brothers and sisters have done.
In the end, all the stuff that the TV says is important fades to nothing. It is like how the old TVs used to shut off: the sound would stop, and the picture would shrink to a small dot, which lingered for a few seconds and then disappeared. Knowing that doesn’t tend to affect my desires for the stuff of the world, or the ways of the world. But Jesus said the difference between those who bear fruit and those who don’t is understanding what the word of God means and acting on it (Parable of the sower, parable of the house on the rock).
There is more than one candy apple being dangled in front of my eyes. But I have been down that road of imagination before and it is a bitter heartbreaking thing. It isn’t mine to enjoy. I choose the way that God has made for me. I pray that I continue in it. It isn’t flashy or exciting, but it is real and it is good. I could still die tonight, but I want my eternity to be with Jesus. I may not be up near the throne, but at least I’ll be there, and He will know my name.
posted by Jason Woodrow at 10:44 PM
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