For the wicked boasteth of his heart's desire, and blesseth the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth. Psalm 10:3
Someone spoke of the irony of the Americans who spend one day enumerating that for which they are thankful, and the next scrabbling for that what they do not have.
The LORD hates it when we are not content with Him. And His gifts. LORD may I be deeply satisfied with my lot in life, that which You have cast for me, in Your love and kindness.
Yesterday one of those ex-seventh graders showed up on my doorstep, in all six foot four gangliness, wanting advise about the rest of his life, and more specifically what to do during a self-imposed break from his studies to find meaning and purpose.
He leaned in close and looked me in the eye. Mrs. Voelkel, have you found fulfillment and your life’s calling?
And I had to smile, because I had just pulled out my regular suggestion list of Guatemala, South Africa, Dominican Republic, Bolivia, Kenya: pick a country, any country; we all know that I suffer from restless heart sometimes, longing to pack up a very small bag with maybe an expresso pot, my Mac and an extra pair of socks, and take my own advice. This guy knows that for both us the Mexicali trips were defining moments of joy where we both stepped into the very most loose and easy stride.
You’re a secretary, an answer-the-phone and manage mailing lists secretary? Yep.
And yet. When I push back the curtain of murmuring which so inflicts the human race and consider His goodness– – – the list is long and deep. And the beauty of community. I had just finished answering two emails from Steven running health centers in South Sudan, and in one sense, I am there with him. And funny Katya is doing advertising with Olgivy and Mather in the Ukraine. And Dana sent me another one of his stories. And a lovely thank you note from New York City. And skyping with Andrea and Max. And that cute Chinese Physics student is out there chopping wood to earn money for Urbana. And.
I answered, “Yes.” And maybe my life’s calling is just standing on the sideline cheering, and handing out cold cups of water. But what a fulfilling race, with the weight of glory.
“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors... Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.”
“To please God… to be a real ingredient in the divine happiness… to be loved by God, not merely pitied, but delighted in as an artist delights in his work or a father in a son- it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But so it is.”
“And that is enough to raise your thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul, beyond all hope and nearly beyond belief, learns at last that she has pleased Him whom she was created to please. There will be no room for vanity then. She will be free from the miserable illusion that it is her doing. With no taint of what we should now call self-approval she will most innocently rejoice in the thing that God has made her to be, and the moment which heals her old inferiority complex forever will also drown her pride… Perfect humility dispenses with modesty.”
“It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor's glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. ...
“...the sun looks down on nothing half so good as a household laughing together over a meal, or two friends talking over a pint of beer, or a man alone reading a book that interests him..."
- C.S. Lewis: Weight of Glory
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