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| Port San Luis, CA | July 2016 |
The older I get, the more I recognise in myself a tendency towards pessimism. Not the sort of dark, tragi-heroic gloom one associates with the Romantic poets, but a more general tendency to see the shadows as well as the light. To feel the ephemeral nature of life. To hear the minor notes. To doubt my own ability to experience the real, concrete sort of happiness I still aspire to.
(As a side note, it seems a sad commentary on modern culture that I find it embarrassing to admit that I would rather fall in love, marry and have a family than have a successful career as a writer. Of course, I'd rather not have to choose. Also of course, none of the above might happen.)
Perhaps this pessimism is merely a byproduct of that hard teacher, experience, providing a useful antidote to my contradictory, hopeless romantic, my-life-is-a-fairy-tale-and-nothing-bad-can-happen-to-me-or-those-I-love tendencies.
Perhaps, as well, it is necessary to learn to hold my own ideas of how my life should be more loosely, so that God can direct me in the way he wants me to go.
Certainly, the undercurrent of sadness, longing and incompleteness that haunts earthly life points me toward heaven (C. S. Lewis has written beautifully of the way even happiness can awake in us a longing for heaven in Till We Have Faces).
But I think it is important not to let our recognition that "life is but a breath" (Psalm 62:9) keep us from taking delight in the goodness of God's creation (albeit now marred by our sin). Nor should we confuse resignation with a wholehearted commitment to God's will, nor cede the desires God has given us to discouragement or despair.
The psalmist reminds us in Psalm 147:11:
but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,
in those who hope in his steadfast love.
I've probably said this too many times, but I think hope is an underrated Christian virtue, often overshadowed by its siblings, faith and love. The great challenge in this flawed, often heartbreaking world is not to lose heart, but to place our ultimate hope in God's unchanging character and promises.
God has made me the way I am for a reason, and he will use not only the talents, but also the desires that he has given me for his purposes. They may not be fulfilled in the way I would wish (maybe my novels will be published posthumously!), but I also know that, as Psalm 37:4 says:
Delight yourself in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
God may change my desires as I draw closer to him, or choose to fulfil them differently, but I know that, as Jesus said (Matthew 7:7-11), God wants us to ask him for things, which means remaining hopeful, expectant that he will answer our prayers.
Life will still hold many minor notes, yet there is, after all, a haunting beauty in music written in a minor key. Consider, for instance, Smetana's The Moldau in E minor. The minor notes give us a greater appreciation for the resolution at the end. So too, we have a greater appreciation for God's love for us when we face the tragedies of life, knowing that Christ chose to come into this world, not only to experience the pain of the human condition, but also to bear the weight of all of that sin and sorrow on the cross.
And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song, saying,
“Worthy are you to take the scroll
and to open its seals,
for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God
from every tribe and language and people and nation,
and to open its seals,
for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God
from every tribe and language and people and nation,
and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God,
and they shall reign on the earth.”
and they shall reign on the earth.”
[Revelation 5:8-10]
Even so, come Lord Jesus.
