Mother Teresa once said that from the moment a soul has the grace to know God, she must seek.
My soul knows this full well, the seeking. It knows the exhilaration and the joy, it knows the weariness and the pain. It knows the frustration of seeking and feeling like you’re not finding and it knows the rest that comes when you’ve found just exactly what your heart yearns for.
There’s no one feeling that goes along with seeking. It runs the full gamut, as far as I can tell.
I once dreamed that when I was older I’d have this whole seeking thing figured out. I thought that I would just get it. By the time my hair was white and I was getting tightly rolled perms and the lines around my eyes could no longer be tamed with concealer and the veins in my hands were so nearing the surface that they might just pop right out, well, I thought by then I’d know.
I thought I might know God. Like, in a completely sort of way. I thought He would have every ounce of my trust and I would always know that He was only good all the time. I thought my heart would know the fullness of His love and naturally I would be wonderful at sharing that with everyone I meet. I thought that I would sort of just rest and know. Nod and smile. Completely and utterly get it.
I’ve only just now realized that my thought is rubbish.
Because seeking is active, not passive. Seeking is constant, not sometimes. Seeking is what children do when other kids hide and the game is not finished until they’re found.
Friends, I think we keep seeking until He’s found and I don’t think we’ll have found him fully until we’re face to face. This makes seeking a long term deal. A life time, really. A never ending action on our life.
There are days I just so badly want to know. I want to know what He wants from me all the days of my life and I want to know what he wants from me just today. I want to know where I’ll be 10 and 15 and 35 years from now and I want to know if I’ve learned anything along the way. I want to know if I’ll still be messing it all up (I’m sure I will) and I want to know if the seeking is enough because, dear Lord, if it’s not then I’m a bigger mess than even I thought.
Is it normal human nature to want all the answers? I don’t know.
What I do know is that it’s my nature. All. The. Time.
I want to know the plan and to be in on the agenda. I want to know what the days events will hold and when on earth things are going to come together for the big aha moment. I want to know the scoop, the deal, the game plan and it makes me want to scream some days when I just don’t get to.
That some day would be today. But, whatever.
Each turn of the calendar year I seek him for the following days. I ask what He wants from me now that it’s 2015, like it’s any different than any other year. I want him to give me the word that others have to live out and pray through and dream about. I want Brave or Fearless or Courageous. I want Content or Still or Rest. I want Awe or Wonder or Sacred. I want those because they seem so purposeful and strong. I want them because they belong to someone else and I always want what’s not mine.
But when I come before him I’m not given a word and there’s no great revelation, I simply hear the same words that I hear every time I come before Him. He’s telling me the same thing He tells me every day and it’s the same thing He told his people oh so many years ago.
He says, love me.
Love me with all of your heart.
Love me with all of your soul.
Love me with all of your mind.
Just, love me.
That’s all. Nothing more.
It’s not fancy and it’s not tricky and there’s not some sort of secret code to unlock to understand the riddle. It doesn’t require endless doubting of yourself, or wondering if where you are is wrong or if the choice you just made was all backwards and upside down. It doesn’t require grandeur, chandeliers and champagne flutes, revolutions or resolutions, loud shouts from mountain tops. It doesn’t need drama and attention, praises from man, notoriety or nobility.
It needs nothing but a heart with a bent towards Him.
The rest comes from there. Simply. Most often undramatically. It may involve absolutely nothing to write home about. In fact, that’s usually the case.
We don’t need to overthink it. We don’t need to know how it’s all going to end up. We don’t have to really even get it.
We just need to love him. This year, last year, 17 years from now. It never has to change.
And the love? Well, it can be found in a million different places.
But that’s a story for another time.