The high mission of any art is, by its illusions, to foreshadow a higher universe reality, to crystallize the emotions of time into the thought of eternity.
That might just be one of the truest statements I've read in a while. The concept of everything having a purpose, of dwelling on things that make an impact, has much greater significance in life than I ever considered. At church a few Sundays ago, the pastor gave me a new perspective when he said, "We have a physical body and a spirit in Heaven, and we are agents of change to broker His kingdom here on earth." Suddenly there is an inarguable dichotomy between things that matter most and the things that simply don't, because of their impact in the spiritual realm. On eternity.
The words "reality" and "eternity" are ones I've struggled with ever since things started to matter; first with the idea of them and then the practicality of believing in both. I wasn't sure it was possible at first. Reality were the things all around me, the things I knew to be true because I saw them. Reality was being sure of what I knew and acting on something I believed in. But when I thought about what it meant to live with an eternal perspective, it makes you wonder how you're to know something is true when it isn't there to protest its existence. How do you act confidently on a feeling that could be analyzed and trivialized and discounted?
Mom has always told me I see things in black and white. In many situations I don't see the 18% gray until someone formally presents it and shows me there was no either/or dilemma to begin with. It seems to simplify things, because otherwise I'm afraid I over-think it. It's nice to have clear options to choose from because it feels like I made progress in discovering them.
But I have been learning that there are all sorts of black and white, either/ors that hold my world together. And those ones are okay. The constant struggle between flesh and spirit have become so much more real to me when I let go of enough of myself to finally realize it. I think that's why I wanted to try fasting. To see what it would feel like to allow God to physically sustain me, also. I have discovered that eating is not so much a necessity as it is a hobby. Going each day with a hollow feeling in my stomach doesn't compare to how it feels having a hollowness in my spirit. That is what hurts the most, what I know I can't live with. But food is something I do for fun, because I like picking things apart and enjoying it for what it is. I thought I was doing it wrong at first, that I was missing something important because it wasn't supposed to feel more like a dieting plan than a spiritual act. But when it wasn't something I depended on enough to structure my day around to begin with, it becomes less the food itself and more what it represents. And the distraction isn't a question of how much time I spend eating that should now be transferred to time spent with God. When the distraction of food is taken away all that's left to contrast is what my body wants and what my spirit desires. It's like taking away the insulation and being sure, knowing, that no matter how cold your body is it's still staying warm because your heart is still beating.
The other black and white either/or the Lord has been showing me is self versus surrender. I think I have an image of myself, quite a glorious image actually, and I've been too busy dwelling on it. It's like with oil paint, when it doesn't dry for days and you can go back and modify and alter until hours later it feels right. But in all the obsessive modifications you lose sight of what exactly you were painting to begin with. I've discovered that when I get so caught up in self and ego that I lose sight of who I am supposed to become. There is no more big picture, there is only now. Thoughts in this moment, words in this conversation, actions in this situation. When I focus on making myself feel better and more important, I sacrifice the value of other people. And the only reason I feel the need to do that is for self assurance. If I was able to look directly at myself, not in a mirror but face to face, I don't think I'd like the helpless, unconfident person in front of me. That person would know the phrase "identity in Christ" and still not know what to do with it in a real-world sense.
I think that's because it isn't real-world. It's beyond it. When you're able to give up enough of yourself, it gives the Spirit so much more room. Room to dwell in and room to work in. It really is true, that out of the overflow of his heart a man speaks. One verse that has been inexplicably recurring in my life is John 7.37-38,
If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.
We are to be channels, means through which the Spirit flows and causes other people to trace the stream back to its heavenly source. I used to think the important part was to press in and receive from God, otherwise we would have nothing to give. As important as that is, now I am realizing that if the vessel is dirty or full of rocks it makes it more difficult for the water to flow. And not only that, but the water becomes tainted and a poor representation of how pure it was when it first melted. I don't want God's ability to use me to be limited by what I would do the least damage to. I am learning that sometimes God really does have to operate in spite of us, but wouldn't it be easier for everyone if we just sided ourselves with Him completely?
Now I understand more why we ask the Lord to purify us; what it means to say,
Purify my heart, cleanse me from within
And make me holy
Purify my heart, cleanse me from my sin
Deep within
Refiner's fire, my heart's one desire
Is to be holy, set apart for you, Lord
I choose to be holy
Set apart for You, my Master,
Ready to do your will
Because there is so much of me that needs to move out of the way first. That has become a much more powerful analogy for me. It's like all the little black bits left in the Brita filter to make the water drinkable.
I can't believe how much I have been learning this summer. It's almost overwhelming, though exhilarating at the same time, to discover so much of myself that needs to be changed. It's exactly what Mom wrote to me a few months ago:
God's objective for you is always Romans 8.29, to conform you to His Son's image. So let God do His work in your life, and change you so much so that you will represent Him well–excellently–to other people. Then you would honor Him and glorify Him. And isn't that what our redeemed lives are about?
So having an eternal perspective has now become my reality, and I am learning to make it the very centre of purpose in this life.
