Have you ever heard the saying “What one gives birth to —he must sustain”?
While this is especially applies to having children, it applies to almost everything in life. I indeed hate this fact. ‘Why’ you ask? Simple. It’s because I am, at heart, lazy. Not lacking in ambition, just lacking in finishion. Not in the big things necessarily, but most certainly in the minor things. Take a look around my room for example: an unfinished crocheted scarf I began for my best friend last Christmas. A rented violin I swore I would teach myself- a beginners book opened to page 24 of 100 (for four months now). A pile of paints and canvas’ half loved by the window. The sewing machine with cut-outs for an apron left unassembled next the TV in the living room. Eight different books lay next to me in bed everynight- periodically taking their turns having 20-30 pages read from them before I fall asleep, but never quite being finished and allowed a comfy, safe spot back onto the shelf.
The sad, truthful list could go on. I like to tell myself that it’s because I am not good at spending too much time alone in my room long enough to complete said projects. I like to make all kinds of excuses for things. But we all know- that when things are important to us, we make them happen. We make them a priority. We spend time with the people we care about, not by chance, but intentionally. We squeeze and push all other essentials out of the way, and create a time and space for them. Or it. Whatever it is we have given birth to that we trully care about. Belief systems. Jobs. Conversations. Friendships. Decisions to let go of something/someone. Exercise routines. Or the choice to hold on. Whatever it is, we must always come back to it, nurture it, maintain it, painstakingly love it. We must remind ourselves of the why- even when it hurts, even when we want to give in to the opposite. One must be fully convinced, and stick to whatever they began. Lest we become flakes. Lest we begin to not trust ourselves to do what we say we are going to do.
So here goes. I am diving in. I’m going deep. I am giving birth to this blog. I am giving birth to this life. I am going on the World Race. I am giving it all over to Him.
And to the contrary of the empty space on my blog…I am trully quite excited.
It’s possible that I spend way too much time on backcountry.com and go to REI at least once a week looking for gear. It’s possible that I can’t stop reading travel books: “Vagabonding: The Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel” by Rolf Potts. “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” by Annie Dillard. “Travels with Charlie” by Steinbeck. “Where There Is No Doctor: a village healthcare handbook” by David Werner. And maybe I talk about it ALL THE TIME. Maybe I’ve fallen head over heels for the Perspectives class I am taking at church, and that my heart for the gospel and the renown of Jesus has swollen to the point of bursting. Perhaps I finally got up the courage to tell my boss at work, and now it really feels like it’s going to happen. It could be that it’s almost March…and that we leave in 3ish months.
But this is the human condition. To get very excited about things for a time. Even years at a time. But then the cloud of glory rains itself out. And what are you left with? Hopefully, if we are worth our weight in feathers, a sense of commitment. A willingness to sustain. So when the sexyness of going on this race, of exploring exotic places and doing good things, or rebeling against the norm of the American dream wear off… when blogging becomes a chore rather than a cathartic relational tool for ministry…when support raising feels like you are standing on a street corner with a cardboard sign…I will remember this: It is not about me. Not about how I feel. It’s about Him. It’s about Jesus. And getting to point more people towards Him. So all the little steps and chores and doodads between now and leaving for the race, and ultimately, His return, are nothing to fret over. Though they must be done, we need not worry. Because He gave birth to us. And He will sustain us.
Thankfully, we are more than a lame art project in the corner to Jesus.
