a re:dedication

I sat alone in the woods behind the dorms, quietly watching the ants scurry over the rocks. My mind wandered down many avenues, and I found myself (once again) contemplating my life. Let’s be honest: it’s been much better lately. I’ve been doing better with my schoolwork, I have a good summer job lined up, I am lucky to call Courtney Benkert my girlfriend, and I have a brilliant future lying at my feet, waiting to be seized. Yet there is something inside me that doesn’t “sit” right. I heard one of my favorite quotes echoing a sweet refrain through the trees:

“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud-pies in the slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” (C.S. Lewis)

Infinite joy? I once knew what that was. It is the joy one finds of being completely happy in the embrace of God. There was a day when I knew what that was like—but then I came to a Christian college, and that joy faded like the sunset, and I have found myself in a perpetual night that gives no hint of lifting. But sitting in those woods, feeling the warmth of the sun against my face and the gentle breeze rustling my hair, I heard a whisper of a voice, beckoning me forward to something greater, something more magnificent, something extraordinary and significant. That voice tore through me, leaving in its wake a minefield of objections: “I am not good enough! I have too many vices to deal with! I have fallen from the perch of Christian maturity and fear I can never return!” The voice doesn’t take these objections and push them aside, nor does it quiet them, but, rather, it simply continues to call me forward despite these seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Right now I am the kid making mud-pies in the slum, and God is inviting me into a “holiday at the sea” (whatever that entails).

I have done much thinking, much inventory of my life, and I see where changes need to be made, where “spring cleaning” must take place, where regeneration and crucifixion must exist. Some habits must go, and others must be formed. God is calling me to a life of an intimate, dynamic, experiential dance with Him, but this dance requires that I shed off all the extra weight and don the right gear. All of this thinking and praying has led to a rededication, a recommitment, to God and to His ways.

I recommit myself to seeking God’s face, seeking to live a life of pleasing and honoring Him, to serving Him in all His wild and crazy designs, to loving God with all that I am, to engaging in and advancing His kingdom, to following His will for my life.

I recommit myself to loving everyone—no matter who they are or what I might think of them!—with a selfless, serving, sacrificial, humble, and kind Christ-like love.

I recommit myself to honoring, respecting, and cherishing God’s beautiful and majestic creation.

In doing this, I have rededicated myself to following God’s will for my life. But what is God’s will for my life? I believe He has revealed His will for my life in three different aspects: to engage in His kingdom; to be a good friend, husband, and father, and a good human being in a world full of bad human beings; to pursue a life of teaching and preaching about God and His kingdom, all the while inviting others in.

I understand that I am a weak creature. I do not have the power to “flesh out” these recommitments. I am rather skeptical myself. But I believe this is what God is calling me to, and though I do not know, exactly, what He has planned, I’ll trust that He has a “holiday at the sea” waiting. Perhaps the sun will rise and the darkness will be broken after all.