Satisfied with God Alone

Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

I will be satisfied as with the richest of foods,
  with singing lips, my mouth will praise you. (Psalm 63:5)

I have told you this that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. (John 15:11)

One summer a number of years ago, I came home from college to spend time with my family.  I loved to be at "home" with my parents.  I was enjoying a few days without work before the new semester began, I think.  I enjoyed eating there, sleeping there, playing games with my family, and also taking walks next to White Rock Canyon.

Somehow there was peace for me in the vastness of that canyon, especially in the morning.  The smell of the sagebrush and juniper (I've never been allergic to it) and the morning light has always brought a rest for me that I could never find elsewhere.  I was going to miss that place going back to the city for school, so I intended on taking in all of the space and quiet I could from the canyon that morning.

Instead, I found myself restless.  I missed Dawn, who at that time was my girlfriend.  Although I had been disturbed at missing girlfriends before, I had never really had them intrude on this time and place of sanctuary at the canyon's edge.  I had never quite had that sense of dissatisfaction that I had in being apart from her.  She was going to be going to a different university this semester and I was not going to see her when I returned to school.

This dissatisfaction took me by surprise.  I was alarmed by it.  I even wondered if it was a bad sign to have the longing for her ruin what had always been so precious and peaceful to me.  I was not aware of it then, but God spoke to me plainly.  He told me that without her, I could not enjoy the things I used to enjoy.  I think this was the moment I realized I would marry Dawn.  It wasn't so much that I couldn't live without her, but that I knew that my life was for sharing with her and giving to her as long as I was able to do so.

This morning I was drawn back into that moment by realizing that dissatisfaction was the reason for much of my restlessness in life.  I was made to share my life with someone else and give my life to another.  Dawn is part of that ache, but it goes deeper.  I have moments in which I am overcome with such satisfaction.  After a job well done, when I see my children laughing together, when I go to bed and hold Dawn close on a cold night, when I smell the rain in the trees when I go outside in the morning, I have moments of peace and contentedness.  But like that morning, the moments are, at best, just moments and fade quickly in the light of a deeper dissatisfaction.

I find that I am restless.  I go from moment to moment of rest and joy only to find them slipping from my fingers.  The moments not only fade with time, they fade with use.  The law of diminishing returns seems to play out with most experiences.  There is a desire for something new and often something more.   Contrary to my natural expectations and usual experience, though, the way of peace and joy is not primarily made up of what is new and more, but the enjoyment of what is common and less.

The newness and abundance must come from somewhere other than the experiences themselves.  They come from finding that true desire, that place where I can give and share.  Other people provide an example of how such giving and sharing is found in relationship, but there is a profound dissatisfaction at the depth and ability of other people to be a part of this in my life.  I have had to learn that their own incompleteness keeps them from being that place, that person that I need.  I see that incompleteness in myself as well as I live with and love my wife and family.  I cannot be their joy and peace any more than any other person or experience they may have.

I think I am tempted like most people to live with this as a matter of fact and try to get all of the moments I can as I go through life.  This has led me into problems of using people as things to get those moments as well as seeking experiences that are more and more.  Paul talks about this sort of life when he writes

So I say to you and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do in the futility of their thinking.  They are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God by the ignorance that is in them.  Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity with a continual lust for more. (Ephesians 4:17-19)

It seems kind of rough, but I have found myself in this cycle many times.  I have found myself with "futile thinking" seeking after God in the wrong way and in the wrong places.

This morning I was not so much filled with dissatisfaction as with joy in knowing that I do not have to live quite so restlessly.  I can live with God, giving to him and sharing with him.  Such a relationship has enabled all things in my life - even the bad things - to become new and more than they are in themselves.  Joy - a pervading sense of well-being according to Dallas Willard - can come in the morning and follow me throughout my day as I give my days to God and share them with him.  Through this relationship, God shows  me that what I need is not so much more experiences in number or intensity, but more of certain experiences in depth and enjoyment.  Only in remaining with him can I escape the law of diminishing returns, because only he is infinite and eternal in his being.  He has made me eternal so I can enjoy his infinitude.

I see this as the only way to navigate this life because as my body gives out and as I go through more experiences in life, I must either become more and more dissatisfied with life because I cannot get as much out of it, or I must find a way to enjoy less and less more and more deeply.  Only through the Spirit with my spirit can such a life be possible. May God save me from "futile thinking" that seeks to live without him.  I want to start and end my day seeking my satisfaction in him alone and letting the experiences and people in my life color and fill in that contentment.  I pray with Thomas a Kempis:

Grant me, most sweet and loving Jesus, to rest in Thee above every creature, above all health and beauty, above all glory and honour, above all power and dignity, above all knowledge and skilfulness, above all riches and arts, above all joy and exultation, above all fame and praise, above all sweetness and consolation, above all hope and promise, above all merit and desire, above all gifts and rewards which Thou canst give and pour forth, above all joy and jubilation which the mind is able to receive and feel. (The Imitation of Christ, Chapter 21)