Don't Miss Anything
I was realizing this morning, as it was the second day in a row I slept 'till after 10 am, that there is just as much in any place in my life to distract me from anything I want to do. It doesn't have to be a spiritual endeavor either, it could be an ordinary life goal. I'm also realizing that's it's really hot in this house but that's beside the point. At the center of this distraction problem is a story: a life-story. What is it that my life is going to accomplish when it's all said and done and will I be content enough to look back with minimal tears? Well, a story, especially a life-story, is not complete without a dream, and a dream is not complete without a goal. This is where the fairy tale ends because a goal is not a goal without a significant challenge to overcome (unless your goal has disguised itself as mere common sense like "to take a shower more than once a week." Ummmm... Duh.
Anyway, as I consider the challenges of living a goal-oriented life, I consider the benefits as well. Most of which are self-explanatory. For one goal, I wanted to continue to place time in God's word and fellowship with Him as a priority. Can you relate when I say that this particular goal is a breeding ground of distraction and challenge. I made the decision to come home for the summer instead of working at the camp in Minnesota so that i could nurture everything that I've gained this past school year, so that I wouldn't lose it all. Coming here has again confirmed in me that good intentions are not always God intentions. Also, 'intentions" are worth only as much as the action they lead to, and as of yet that isn't very much. Plans are only plans after all, and are not only subject to change but almost inevitably changed. Or perhaps that's just my own. I realize that though I'm home—in a seemingly relaxing environment where God, solitude, and my Bible are all easily accessed—I am not less likely to become distracted. In fact, I am more likely too because I feel safe that I can "find time for it later."
Today, as I was watching TV (7th Heaven, oh my cheesiness) I saw a Sears optical commercial. A woman didn't have the right prescription glasses on and was calling her cat in from the yard so they could go to bed. "Here kitty, kitty. Come on in now and we can snuggle real close tonight," she said as she opened the sliding glass door. "That's it, that's a good kitty," she purred as a raccoon, not her cat, waltzed into the house and proceeded to the bedroom. The commercial's catch phrase was something like "We'll get it right at Sears optical so you won't miss a thing."
This commercial was not only funny, but true... at least in my experience. I've often refused to get "new glasses" when I knew I needed them. I've squinted and strained to see the plainest of things in life; things that have been right in front of my nose the whole time. But because I refuse to sacrifice resources (or the like) to acquire new glasses, I end up sleeping with a raccoon. God must stifle a giggle when I come to Him the next morning glasses askew and the scratches on my body boldly attesting my childish mistake. But praise Him that He loves me enough to pick me up and set me right. I just hope that this time, it's more than a check-up and leave: that it's more than a visit. I want this time to be the end all: an encounter of purest proportions and a captivating surrender to continually draw closer.
Also, the commercial reminded me that most people aren't afraid of dying, they're afraid of missing out. It capitalizes this fact and offers its audience a way to experience life better. God offers us the way to experience life, and life to the fullest. I'm learning to experience it.
Anyway, as I consider the challenges of living a goal-oriented life, I consider the benefits as well. Most of which are self-explanatory. For one goal, I wanted to continue to place time in God's word and fellowship with Him as a priority. Can you relate when I say that this particular goal is a breeding ground of distraction and challenge. I made the decision to come home for the summer instead of working at the camp in Minnesota so that i could nurture everything that I've gained this past school year, so that I wouldn't lose it all. Coming here has again confirmed in me that good intentions are not always God intentions. Also, 'intentions" are worth only as much as the action they lead to, and as of yet that isn't very much. Plans are only plans after all, and are not only subject to change but almost inevitably changed. Or perhaps that's just my own. I realize that though I'm home—in a seemingly relaxing environment where God, solitude, and my Bible are all easily accessed—I am not less likely to become distracted. In fact, I am more likely too because I feel safe that I can "find time for it later."
Today, as I was watching TV (7th Heaven, oh my cheesiness) I saw a Sears optical commercial. A woman didn't have the right prescription glasses on and was calling her cat in from the yard so they could go to bed. "Here kitty, kitty. Come on in now and we can snuggle real close tonight," she said as she opened the sliding glass door. "That's it, that's a good kitty," she purred as a raccoon, not her cat, waltzed into the house and proceeded to the bedroom. The commercial's catch phrase was something like "We'll get it right at Sears optical so you won't miss a thing."
This commercial was not only funny, but true... at least in my experience. I've often refused to get "new glasses" when I knew I needed them. I've squinted and strained to see the plainest of things in life; things that have been right in front of my nose the whole time. But because I refuse to sacrifice resources (or the like) to acquire new glasses, I end up sleeping with a raccoon. God must stifle a giggle when I come to Him the next morning glasses askew and the scratches on my body boldly attesting my childish mistake. But praise Him that He loves me enough to pick me up and set me right. I just hope that this time, it's more than a check-up and leave: that it's more than a visit. I want this time to be the end all: an encounter of purest proportions and a captivating surrender to continually draw closer.
Also, the commercial reminded me that most people aren't afraid of dying, they're afraid of missing out. It capitalizes this fact and offers its audience a way to experience life better. God offers us the way to experience life, and life to the fullest. I'm learning to experience it.
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