Saturday, November 12, 2005

Juggling

The bulk of my life is spent juggling. I'm not talking about apples or red balls or anything like that, because my coordination is horrible. I mean my life. I wake up in the morning, and I brush my teeth, otherwise they'll rot and fall out. Then, I jump in the shower, because if I don't, I'll smell bad. Then I have breakfast, because if I don't, I'll starve. Then I go to class, because if I don't, I'll fail. Then I come home and throw some laundry in the washer, because if I don't, I'll have nothing but dirty clothes to wear. I wash my hands. I pay my bills. I take out the trash. Trim my fingernails. Get haircuts. Go to the doctor. Make my bed so I can sleep it again in 24 hours. Clean my room, so I can make it dirty again. Much of my life is spent in such things, actions that simply function to prevent my life from coming apart at the seams. I'm constantly retreating, constantly treading water.

In the midst of this endless maintenance, it's easy for my life to become the sum of my upkeep. If I can just get through each day having taken care of everything on my to-do list, having handled every crisis, and come to the end of the day in one piece, then I'm happy. The irony of this is that when my life becomes solely about putting out one fire after another, and I get good at it, my life truly does fall apart. My dreams shink. My hope dwindles. I die on the inside. My spirit no longer soars; I am the doubting Thomas, who refuses to walk by faith before putting his hand into Jesus' side. I want only what I can see, and I believe only what I can touch. I'm numb.

The drive out to the church that I work at is beautiful, especially at night. It cuts through 15 miles of flat farmland, and there are hardly any lights. So when I drive, I always drive... with all the windows up and the heat on. Radio blasting. Numb. But this is dangerous, because this combination of driving and comfort makes me sleepy. It is at this point where I realize that something has to change, or I will never get home in one piece. So I roll down the window and drive Ace-Ventura style, with my head hanging out the window. This wakes me up. I go from feeling numb to feeling alive.

And so when my life becomes comfortable and predictable, it is the spirit of GOD within me that urges me to roll down my window and stick my head out. It is the spirit of GOD that nudges me to walk away from the endless juggling and into a life of obedient, blind faith. It is the spirit of GOD that draws my gaze from my feet to the stars. And lost in the infinite wonder, I feel like myself. I feel alive.

I'm going to go stick my head out the window. See you soon.
Maybe I've been the problem
Maybe I'm the one to blame
But even when I turn it off and blame myself
The outcome feels the same

I've been thinkin' maybe I've been partly cloudy
Maybe I'm the chance of rain
And maybe I'm overcast and maybe
All my luck's washed down the drain

I've been thinkin' 'bout everyone, everyone you look so lonely
But when I look at the stars,
When I look at the stars,
When I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars, the stars
I feel like myself

Stars looking at our planet,
Watching entropy and pain
And maybe startin' to wonder
How the chaos in our lives could pass as sane

I've been thinkin' 'bout the meaning of resistance
Of a hope beyond our own
And suddenly the infinite and penitent
Began to look like home
(Switchfoot, Stars)

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

wanna play sax at snowball like last year?

Anonymous said...

How true is it that we have to do something different in our lives so we don't sound like broken records? Running the old same old same old. I totally agree with you.