Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Restless Resting

It's past 3 in the morning, and I'm up. It's not that I'm still up, mind you, as I conked out at somewhere between 8 and 9, but that I woke up about an hour ago to roast up some coffee.


Sitting here and typing, it's quiet outside. It's sort of odd, you know. I can hear the humming of the little machine as it flings those beans around with hot air, churning them in a maelstrom of delicious chemistry. Other than that whirring noise, the world seems quiet; outside, it undoubtedly is. Were I to walk out of the doors of Fuller Hall, I'm sure I'd be hard-pressed to find another soul out and about. Yes, outside those doors, all is quiet. But inside? Well, inside can be quite loud and full of screaming turmoil.

I'm sure that of the residents of Fuller Hall, I'm not the only one awake at this hour. I'm also sure that I'm not the only one who is thinking what I'm thinking -- that this Christian life is way too hard, and that what I'm feeling inside my sin-ridden soul weighs me down far, far too easily. As the hymn Jesus, I Am Resting plays on iTunes, I can't help but feel how little I rest in Jesus.

I told Kane this past Sunday that of all the desires I have in life, of all the different paths I could possibly pursue, of all the ambitions and dreams that urge me on and weigh me down, the one I want most is the one I simply can't have: obedience.

I sometimes think I'd rather be perfect than be forgiven. Stupid, isn't it? It's true. I'm far too proud and full of myself to be able to say otherwise. Still, my failure gets flung in my face often enough that I've come to know a desire for obedience not for the sake of my pride, but for the sake of knowing Him. I think that the Christian life is full of slow, painful learning like this, the kind of learning that drives someone to realize that the only satisfaction really is found in knowing and being known by God. Ryan reminded me recently that Jesus said that His food was to do the will of the One who sent Him. Oh, to feast at that table! What a lavish spread! Still, do I not often find myself there, an honored guest, yet sulking away to eat with the dogs?

I do...I do.

The point of Jesus, I Am Resting is not to drive the believer into even deeper frowns over their lack of obedience; at least, not ultimately. Rather, it is to lift up the one who shies away from mercy, from the One who has obeyed perfectly for the sake of those who obey in imperfect misery. I'll be honest -- my soul squirms with the thought that Jesus should have suffered obediently for my sake. Why? I don't like admitting that I need Him. At least, I don't like admitting that in a way that makes my need of Him utterly, miserably, gloriously obvious.

But...isn't that the point?

posted by Bolo | 3:25 AM
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