So here it is. One day till the marathon and I can’t shake something that’s been on my mind. I write this blog and I have my job and my life and the many wonderful things in it. Yet, it’s all about ME.
Yes, I tithe at church and give money to good causes. I sigh with sadness at heartbreaking stories of difficulty and have real, aching sympathy for those who have the odds against them in life — whether that be a woman who is oppressed in Saudi Arabia, a child soldier in Rwanda or a little girl in an abusive home in Georgia. But what am I doing?
Maybe it’s turning 30 that’s caused my mind to turn to greater things — but in sits with me. I think of Solomon in the Bible, saying, “Everything is meaningless.” I don’t believe that myself, but it’s easy to see how he came to that end. Life is so short. I’m beginning to see it now in a way I never did before. Thirty always seemed like an age far into the distant future — the dreaded age, the age of marriage deadline and life turning decisions. And here it is, not so dramatic or life changing at all.
But I’m feeling like a hypocrite. I’m feeling guilty for complaining about one single thing in my life. With every opportunity and choice and chance at my fingertips, I make excuses. Someone robbed of these years, these choices, these chances should rightly be insulted at my ungratefulness.
Things I never understood before about people — the need they have to do something greater, to drop everything and live out the existence they feel drawn to — I feel that. What action is there to go with it? It remains to be seen. I’ve always felt a deeper meaning, though, a certain passion I can’t put my finger on. I know that I’ve gotta stop all the buzzing in my head and just hear what God’s saying. I know you’ve gotta be quiet to hear it. I know you’ve got to pay attention.
I know that I used to pray that God would let me see people through His eyes. I would listen to this Amy Grant song, “My Father’s Eyes,” and pray that I could see people that way — no matter who they were, murderers and babies alike. God granted me a compassionate heart — and he answered my prayer wholeheartedly.
But, now that I’ve got the vision, I’ve got to start treating those people in a way that is worthy of this beautiful gift. As one song we sing at church says, “God loves people more than anything.” That is true and love, as I learned so long ago from a certain song, “Love is a verb.”
Here’s the song that inspired my prayer: