With finally a period of undictated moments, I sat alone in my larger-than-needed house, without many of the discomforts that so many endure, reading. 'Keeping Faith', chapter 3 of the book, The Wounds of God, by Penelope Wilcock; my wife said I would love this book and she is right.
I am swollen with the tears of emotion over the love described in the lead character, the Abbot. So full, in part, I suspect because of the lack of such love, such strength, in me. Or, at the very least, the lack of recognition of it. It could, in fact, be there. But, what seems lacking, is a confidence that it is. Perhaps, that is not a necessary thing to have. Though, without it, I can be plagued at times by the insecurity of it.
Do others, in fact, possess something I simply do not? ...that certainly seems plausible. There are many things others have that I do not. What, then, is the point of the question? Would it not be something more akin to, is the something they have, something I, too, can acquire? If so, what is needed in me, to acquire it? And, is the answer to this question not nearly fully described in this very chapter?
We are all being given the opportunity to acquire something significant. What is it, then, that inhibits our acquisition? We might tend to think it is a matter of the will, or of the discipline needed. And, that may very well be true...Lord knows how weak our feigned attempts are. Is it endurance? Also, perhaps. But, I wonder more at what it is that fuels things like endurance, discipline, or will, which seem like important methods, but not inherent drivers.
Is it not the case that it is our desire which compels through things that inhibit us? What it is that we want, more than anything else, that moves us through or keeps us able to remain for something, even when all else simply seems to impede our ability to persist.
Desire, in fact, is what God uses, arouses even, in us to reveal to us who we really are. This alone is what changes us from being and pursuing a version of ourselves that is far less than we've imagined to be. The only thing, in the end, that can give us the ability to retain our sense of being, what we want and don't want, especially when the severity of circumstances abate or the natural comfort of things cause us to forget, is our truest desire.
