Divine discontent

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."
{C.S. Lewis}

I have heard people describe the oft'-indescribable longing in humanity for communion with its Creator as "a God-shaped hole." Sounds about right to me. After years of exhortation, I've got the head knowledge to support this concept and not go seeking superficial satisfaction to fill that void. But my heart frequently forgets.

There are a couple different illustrations from my own life that come to mind here. One is that I've always wanted to be someone's best friend. I've wanted to be the go-to buddy when a spontaneous road trip is the order of the day or when innermost feelings must be poured out to a sole listener. I have been blessed with many wonderful friendships in my life, but have not found one like this -- at least with staying power. You get to an age when you must resign yourself to never being a bridesmaid, never owning one-half of a "best buddies" necklace, and never getting introduced as someone's best friend (when not preceded by "my sister and..." or "my wife and...").

But I've come to appreciate, as recently as this past month, that this could be one way God keeps me honest. I have a million blessings in my life to be grateful for. Is it really so vital that while on this planet, someone calls me her truest bosom friend?

The other longing that tugs at me often is for the home of my childhood. I find myself wishing there was still a big house where both parents lived, and come Thanksgiving we could all cram in and celebrate. Alas, there is no such place. My father resides on one side of the country and my mother on the other. While its been the better part of six years since they lived under the same roof, my heart still drops every now and then when I remember what it was like to walk into a kitchen and see Dad seated by the griddle and Mom sipping tea at the counter while the rest of us feasted on homemade pancakes.

It's sad, make no mistake about it. But it's also another situation God uses to gently remind me that His Father's house is exponentially better than any home life I've lived out here.

This discontent -- though it keeps us in tension and tied up in knots -- is divine. For us who do not know the suffering and affliction of many around the world, it's a reminder not to get comfortable; not to get so accustomed to blessing that we forget this is a fallen reality...
There is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother, and I am not home yet.

"I know there'll be a moment
I know there'll be a place
Where we will see our Saviour
And fall in His embrace
So let us not grow weary
Or too content to stay
'Cause we are not home yet
We are not home yet"
{Steven Curtis Chapman}