I love how God uses the most unexpected places, people and events in my life to reveal truth to me. I love how He never wastes a single experience in my life. All things really do work for my good – the good of turning me into the image of His Son. The good of drawing me toward an experience of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.
This is about one of the more unexpected experiences in my life. Honestly I wasted a good most of it. God has been redeeming it; but I wasted it, especially at the time.
I was on a yoga mat in a yoga studio. A few mats away from me sat a girl who had messed so deeply with the spirit world she had begun to see things she did not want to see. She shared with us that it had pretty much scared her to death, so she decided to quit investigating the spiritual side of things so deeply. She was not alone in her quest for meaning.
We were being good future yoga instructors. We were learning chants in a ridiculously long dead language, reportedly perhaps the oldest on earth, at least traditionally claimed by some people. I myself don’t pretend to know what the oldest language on earth could possibly be, whether or not it was spoken 6,000 or 6,000,000 years ago. God alone knows what Adam said.
It was an odd experience. I did my best to play along as best I could; and I will be the first to tell you that I played along way too much. Like I said, at the time I wasted a lot of the experience. Looking back it’s kind odd, but I still think God wanted me there. In spite of the ways, He knew I was going to misuse the experience. In spite of the fire I played with and the lines I crossed.
I thought then that He wanted me to go to yoga school, and I still think so now. God knows I regret many of my choices at that time. (I was in the belly of the whale.) But then, I often regret the ridiculous activities my old nature thinks it is going to find fulfillment in.
But something happened on that yoga mat as I learned about Hinduism, its meditation, yogic tradition and all those wonderful Sanskrit chants. I couldn’t help but deeply admire the dedication of their monks who spent a lifetime in a quest to experience Satchitananda (bliss), even if for as little as ten seconds. The crazy part was, at least from what I retained and remember being taught, they didn’t actually expect more. It was a quest without a promise at the end. The elusive, only probable reward was likely to be devastatingly brief, yet they spent a lifetime seeking to attain it. I couldn’t help but admire their dedication to their spirituality.
There on my yoga I realized I had everything they ever sought, and I almost never bothered to enjoy my access to it. The Fount of Living Waters was my God. He promised if I came to Him, I would never thirst again. I had the peace they spent their lifetime seeking, and I almost never bothered to enjoy it.
It was there on my yoga mat, I was challenged to live a life of simplicity. I saw people spend their entire life foregoing the pleasures of materialism with no assurance there would be a reward.
It was there I realized how little I gave my God. It was there I determined maybe, just maybe I could give Jesus the things they sacrificed on their quest to bliss. Maybe my God, who promises me endless reward, was worthy of my life.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about peace. It was peace they sought. It was peace I had. I thought about the cross I took up when I followed Him. The tears I have cried as I learned to bring my thirst only to Him. And He is faithful and His Word is true. When I bring my thirst to Him, I thirst for nothing more.
When I bring my thirst to anything else, I am sorely disappointed. It hurts, never delivers on its promise, and it always breaks me. Idols never satisfy; but He is God, the only God. When I bring my thirst to Him, I become whole – because He is God.
What kind of dedication do you bring to your god? Is your god an idol or the God? What would you give, so you can have peace?
Comments