Last night I was talking to a friend, a pretty serious fellow, who was communicating about the choices he makes on the daily. Look back and realize that when I say serious, I mean the other day a group of us played a game called “find something he hasn’t thought about and doesn’t have a 5-point thesis concerning.”
And we didn’t find one.
So mr serious was filling me in on some of the things that are important to him (in a not-too-emotionally-vulnerable way, it was appropriate) and how he feels about protecting those things. The sacrifices he’s willing to make. Even when he doesn’t want to. Even when he REALLY REALLY wants the things he’s NOT choosing (accolades, women, money, ease). He said,
“I’ve battled and bled for those things…”
And while I listened, I thought, “for what am I bleeding?”
Because on the way to the wedding last night, Mac asked me “So how has Austin been treating you?” And I smiled a mega-watt smile and went on and on about school and work and friends and being healthy and the homenovio and how good life feels right now.
And I realize that when life feels so good…. It’s so easy for me to stop fighting. I LOVE being happy. Laughing, enjoying life. Andy once told me that his greatest desire was for things to be peaceful, but mine was for things to be fun.
I think that’s more true than I want it to be.
I’m not a flippant girl. Not really. There are very few subjects I encounter without thinking about them, without diving into different aspects, wondering and maybe researching further details.
But I’m realizing that maybe, (likely) there are things in my life that keep me from encountering more.
From fighting and bleeding for things that matter.
From at least longing for the fight.
Several weeks ago, I was feeling acutely aware of how long it had been since I was able to just love and pour into someone. (At least I THINK I was acutely aware. We’ve been using the word acute in pathology all summer and my brain may have un-learned how to appropriately place it in sentences.) I was in church and I prayed that I would have, somehow, amidst all the schedule issues, the opportunity to listen and counsel and love those around me.
I walked out and was able to speak truth into someone’s life and pray over her in a way that made me feel like I was being who I was created to be. And that time spent praying with me actually saved her from walking in on the man who was robbing her house. I’m serious, as it was, she walked up to her house as he was walking away from it. Those minutes spent in a foyer were planned for, used in God’s plan for our good. That fight for another, that putting aside of my desire for sunshine or lunch on behalf of one I loved, that was valuable. It was real. It was good.
I’m not saying I should stop enoying life. I’m just saying I’m not sure how much I should love it. Because (and I know there are a lot of semantic arguments to be made) I think the more I love life, the more I look forward to it. But the more I enjoy life but love the Lord, the more I’m willing to throw away my life, or at least my plans for it, for him.
And just like that dang-blasted Gospel always does, I see that God proves that throwing life ambitions aside in His name doesn’t mean losing anything. It means realizing what’s worth having. However much that hurts.