Kristina and I have been reading through Oswald Chamber's Utmost for His Highest for much of this year. Late nights, we will flop down on our sofa and leaf through the pages of the book.
On April 29th, Chambers wrote about a topic that I have grappled with quite a bit this year: gracious uncertainty. I have felt that with the changes that have come this year. So many things that I thought would be part of my future dissipated this year. Yet, I have grown to care for--even love?--some friends, situations that I once could have easily lived without. I have given up on dreams that once meant so much to me and have reached out for the new. And now, I have five days of college left before summer break, and all I can think about is how I never would have dreamed last year at this time that I'd be where I am now.
And so the words of the wise Chambers come into play:
"Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life— gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation."
Breathless expectation.
I feel that every time I wake up in the morning, wondering what adventure I will have next. Every time I go downstairs after midnight, run into an old friend at the library, consider the independence I'll have for the first time this summer--all of these bring a wash of breathless expectation and sadness.
My friend Andrew wears a shirt that reads in bright letters: "Change is the only constant." And I agree with this whole-heartedly. Change is the only thing that we can count on this life. Just when we get comfortable, change will throw all seemingly dependable qualities up into the air.
So, I agree with Chambers. Breathless expectation is the way to live fully. Change has been my only constant--save God--and so I cannot count on anything but that. I am waiting, now, with the great expectation that this summer will bring adventures I cannot even fathom at this moment.
2 comments:
"Change has been my only constant--save God--and so I cannot count on anything but that."
I disagree and I think we're denying our humanity if we don't choose vulnerability or, maybe what I mean is, if we don't count on God to guide us through trusting ourselves and our families (and friends, ideas, ambitions etc). There's this practice I read about a few months ago, for photography, that's trusting the decisions you make about adjusting the aperture, pressing the shutter release etc. Of course, as we go, we're able to automatically adjust to what we want and what we know is good. And then we fall, and reassess what we want and what we think is good.
i'm barging in here, but it's late and i found this on alvin's blog--blame him. but i've been thinking of this lately. "change is the only constant." this is true. however, there is something to what alvin says about taking that picture--wanting to hold it and keep it still. i can't decide what's best yet. being fully aware and accepting of change, if you're capable, is comforting and can be helpful...but sometimes, with God, with relationships, with art, i think we might have to decide "i want to hold this; i want to keep this." and hold it as it gets smashed, destructed, and re-made, but hold it no less. i'm still figuring out what this means and how to do it.
of course, with some things--many things--it may be best to let them flow through you and love them for what they are.
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