Boredom is an easy thing to fall into. The line between
living life and simply living is a thin one that is easily crossed. Often,
crossing over into the land of mere existence begins in assenting to the
patterns and routines that we all must navigate in this life. Over time, we
begin to accept those patterns as inevitable. From there, it is a short descent
into mediocrity. Another word for this mediocrity is shallowness.
Lately I’ve been feeling very shallow. Patterns that I have
endeavored to shape have ended up shaping me. Such revelation hasn’t come like
a thunderbolt but rather in simple, minute observations. For instance, I
haven’t really enjoyed a meal that I’ve eaten in over a month.
I have searched for the source of this discomfort and I have
come to this diagnosis: I am lacking in the presence of God. Now I know
theologically the presence of the Lord always surrounds and dwells in the heart
of the believer but there is also a sense in which we allow the Spirit to work
in our lives through living lives of righteousness and by keeping our senses
trained to notice his whispers and appearances. My times in the word have
lacked the affectation and potency of the past. Like a hike through the desert,
life has left my body alive but thirsty.
As I drove through the fields of southern Ohio recently a
severe storm, with its dark and threatening thunderheads chased me. I couldn’t
resist the temptation to roll down the window and feel the humid air upon my
arms burgeoning with elemental fierceness. The clouds broke unleashing a
torrent of water. Wave after wave broke upon my car as if I were a ship caught
in a nor’easter. In farm land such as this deluges such as this rapidly
overwhelm the ability of the ground to absorb the rain. Flash floods are common
and streams quickly over-run their banks. Trails become waterlogged. Fields
transition into ponds.
There are times in our lives when the vibrancy of life dries
up to a trickle. It happens subtly but its occurrence has dramatic effects. Our
spirits languish and we fail to live the lives of righteousness that we were
created for. More devastatingly, we can find ourselves not even looking for or
expecting the power and presence of the Lord. Rather we grow increasingly
content with lives of shallowness, what Thoreau called “lives of quiet
desperation,” until the word of the Lord is neither experienced nor expected.
We settle for a life of dehydration rather than seeking out the fullness of the
Lord. And like physical dehydration, spiritual dehydration lessens the soul’s
ability to weather the storms of life or even to enjoy the blessing of life at
all.
The cure is simply but not easy. It is approached in
confident uncertainty for we do not know where to look but live in the
assurance that if we seek we will find. This is our course: like the explorers
of old, to live comfortable, predictable lives of slow extinction or to set out
confidently expecting to encounter the presence of the Lord behind every bush
and tree; every stranger and friend. In every word we read we should be
anticipating a Word from on high. Every prayer we pray should bristle with the
energy of an oncoming storm for we know whom we seek is capably and willing to
distribute not only life but lives of abundance.
