Lent: Daydreaming (cont.)

I heard from Frank again today.  If you don't know who Frank is, check out this post about him.

In an email, he reminded me of something so perfect -- that our lives are meant for God's renown and not our own. Worshipping God with our lives creates tension and frustration, because as self-centered humans, we "love the shit out of [ourselves]."

His off-color delivery of profound wisdom cracks me up.  But, as always, he's so incisive and direct.  If we're brutally honest with ourselves, most of the choices we make (no matter how seemingly pure and selfless) are tangled up and tainted by us loving the shit out of ourselves.

So I got to thinking about yesterday's post and my tendency to pine.  My heart seems bent toward it -- a pattern I've maintained for years of romanticizing and dwelling on a relationship with someone who isn't part of my life anymore.  And so the question occurred to me: what's in it for me? 

What does my self-serving, self-preserving flesh glean from pining over these "former lovers"?

I think, strangely enough, living in those memories makes me feel loved and noticed.  I remember the way he looked at me, the way it felt to be pursued and cared for. The way it felt to belong to someone.

This is problematic in a couple of ways. First, why has my life become about me feeling loved? If being Christ-like means being others-centered, shouldn't my life (and thought-life) be focused on loving others well rather than garnering love and attention for myself?

But, beneath that, there seems to be a bigger problem: I'm looking to these memories to fill a void.

Deep within us, there's this desperate, nagging need to be fully known and fully loved.  Historically, we have gone to great lengths to satisfy this need on our own, believing we can assuage these longings with food, or money, or sex, or youth, or love.

But God has met those needs already.  He already knows and loves us completely -- deeper than anyone else ever has or ever could.

So, in my daydreams, I'm looking over Jesus' shoulder.  Rather than depending on Jesus' wild and relentless love to satisfy my desperate thirst, I'm trusting other lovers that will never, ever satisfy.

This reminds me of lyrics from Derek Webb's "Wedding Dress":
Cause I am so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over your very flesh and blood.