So where will you be in 10 years?
I was thinking about that question the other day and realized, unlike in high school or college when I'd give a simple, concise answer like medical school or married with a family or working in medical missions in Latin America, I've become more unsure of where I'll be in 10 years. Perhaps it's the curve ball that is Israel. But I think that being content in uncertainty is part of maturing. And gleaned wisdom.
Living in the ambiguity.
Recognizing two things:
1. You can never truly say where you'll be or what you'll be doing. And it does not actually matter, contrary to the planned, controlled nature of our character. There is more of the unknown, unpredictable, out-of-our-control (that we discover as our plans are continuously foiled) than we ever expected. So, looking forward, it's impossible to say where we will be, if we will be, in 10 years. It seems foolish, to me at least, to presume anything and thus I am no longer able to verbalize a simple, concise answer to that question. At least the answer the elevator run-in or distant relative at that family reunion wants to hear.
2. When it comes down to it, the only honest answer I can give from my heart is that I want to be closer to the Lord and living boldly, without reserve for Him. To waste my life would be to live apart from that vision. And I've done plenty of life wasting to know how empty and pointless it is even if the immediate gratification seems more rewarding and enticing.
This all led me to the revelation that the question itself is flawed.
The only answer one could ever honestly give is with WHOM. Because the WHO is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. Circumstances continually change, people come and go, life takes a turn to another career or community or continent. But we can be assured that 10 years from now, in life or death, Jesus Christ will BE. And that gives a truth - a reality - to plan for, to declare, to know.
And that's what we strive toward. And that is a maturing of our spirit. And that is glorious and honoring to the Lord God - to be free of the confines of our own plans and the way our culture idolizes drive and certainty, and to want for only One. There is a genuine peace that washes over me upon that realization, it is so wonderfully freeing, yet I still abandon that picture for my 'self'. And it breaks my heart because I know Christ's patience, and I know how deeply He wants me to let go and catch onto Him for good. Yet I keep leaving Him, finding pleasure and wasting time in the busy glitz of my world.
Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.
I just want to be perfect for Him - but not in the mess of works and self-created goodness - that isn't the Gospel of grace in Jesus. Nor is it my relationship with Him (or anyone's for that matter). He alone is the perfect, spotless Lamb that could redeem us unto life after we corrupted it.
But it's that desire to please Him and praise Him and love Him with all that I am, and to be the beautifully adorned Bride by His grace, to delight wholeheartedly without abandon in Him.
When we see our mess, when we see the uncertain path stretch out before us into a blur of colors, it keeps us coming back to Him. Isn't that just what He wants? Our inability and our lovelessness make Him all the more able and lovely. But I also know this life isn't it. The struggle, the corruption, the aching for more, isn't how it's always meant to be. I've felt that tension so deeply, so exhaustingly, lately.
In all this, though, we're meant to wait. Wait for things to be put right in the world.
Wait for Jesus Christ to return.
Wait for our sinful selves to be fully eradicated.
Wait, wait, wait. and it's excruciating. And it's glorious.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:28-30
Come, Thou, long-expected Jesus.
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