The world has it all backwards. It's not who you are. It's not what surrounds you, shapes you, tests you. It's not what you can drag out from inside of yourself. It's not even who you desire to become.
It's who you are called.
It's all centralized on the one who created you. When a trumpet was made, it wasn't anything but a piece of brass shaped in a funnel with buttons on it until the creator took it up, set lips to it and breathed the life of meaning into it. Purpose and destiny cannot be derived from within ourselves any more than a clay pot can know the purpose it was shaped.
I ask the question, "What's the purpose? What's the drive? Why..."
Looking at fantasy, fiction, writing, life it brings me back to this fundamental question. It quivers at the edge of my brain like a droplet forms on the edge of a cliff before the beginning of a waterfall. Like an illusive itch beneath the surface of brain that needs the perfect though to reveal it.
How intricately we were formed, that I could even try to grapple with grand scheme ideas. This is what sets us apart from the animals and this is what sets us apart to look up into the heavens and face God in our sinfulness to his holiness so only redemption can bridge the gap and return us to a destiny filled purpose.
Why are we so drawn to fantasy? Why does Thor, Spiderman, Narnia, and Lord of the Rings tug at our soul strings so irresistibly? Because deep down inside us is a desire that lies untouched. Like a sleeping dragon, a caged tiger unready to be unleashed yet straining at the bars and snarling for freedom is our yearning. The yearning to do what we were created to do.
We have an enemy who constantly tries to distract us from our goal by all the bells and whistles of the circus but still we know that steel bars await us once the show is over and in the silence of the pre-dawn hour the longing like a wanderlust is stirred in our wild hearts again. A silent breeze steels in through the open windows of our souls and we breathe deeply. Inhaling the wild intoxicating scents of destiny that lies beyond the locked door of our subliminal caged life. Deep down inside we all know that caged tigers are unnatural and we were born to be greater than what we are.
Yet all of this is not derived from ourselves as if we had some innate goodness that only needed to be tapped to find the inner paradise for which we seek. No indeed! It is from an outward source we can find all goodness and truth, love and hope, virtue and destiny. It's not even that this source is limited like a well in a parched desert-land or the soup kitchens of an angular bustling city. There is no privileged. No cut-off point where they say, "One more and no further. That's all there is for today."
It is God who holds this all! This infinite goodness! It is our goal (those of us gifted with delightful revelation and entrance into this marvelous all too wonderful truth) to portray exactly that: This is a great commodity that will not only last but it is the only thing in the entire universe that is not too good to be true.
It's who you are called.
It's all centralized on the one who created you. When a trumpet was made, it wasn't anything but a piece of brass shaped in a funnel with buttons on it until the creator took it up, set lips to it and breathed the life of meaning into it. Purpose and destiny cannot be derived from within ourselves any more than a clay pot can know the purpose it was shaped.
I ask the question, "What's the purpose? What's the drive? Why..."
Looking at fantasy, fiction, writing, life it brings me back to this fundamental question. It quivers at the edge of my brain like a droplet forms on the edge of a cliff before the beginning of a waterfall. Like an illusive itch beneath the surface of brain that needs the perfect though to reveal it.
How intricately we were formed, that I could even try to grapple with grand scheme ideas. This is what sets us apart from the animals and this is what sets us apart to look up into the heavens and face God in our sinfulness to his holiness so only redemption can bridge the gap and return us to a destiny filled purpose.
Why are we so drawn to fantasy? Why does Thor, Spiderman, Narnia, and Lord of the Rings tug at our soul strings so irresistibly? Because deep down inside us is a desire that lies untouched. Like a sleeping dragon, a caged tiger unready to be unleashed yet straining at the bars and snarling for freedom is our yearning. The yearning to do what we were created to do.
We have an enemy who constantly tries to distract us from our goal by all the bells and whistles of the circus but still we know that steel bars await us once the show is over and in the silence of the pre-dawn hour the longing like a wanderlust is stirred in our wild hearts again. A silent breeze steels in through the open windows of our souls and we breathe deeply. Inhaling the wild intoxicating scents of destiny that lies beyond the locked door of our subliminal caged life. Deep down inside we all know that caged tigers are unnatural and we were born to be greater than what we are.
Yet all of this is not derived from ourselves as if we had some innate goodness that only needed to be tapped to find the inner paradise for which we seek. No indeed! It is from an outward source we can find all goodness and truth, love and hope, virtue and destiny. It's not even that this source is limited like a well in a parched desert-land or the soup kitchens of an angular bustling city. There is no privileged. No cut-off point where they say, "One more and no further. That's all there is for today."
It is God who holds this all! This infinite goodness! It is our goal (those of us gifted with delightful revelation and entrance into this marvelous all too wonderful truth) to portray exactly that: This is a great commodity that will not only last but it is the only thing in the entire universe that is not too good to be true.
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