longing

[Brief summary of week: I've been an unlikely drummer in jams on jazz standards, Billy Cobham, and Frank Zappa tunes with some killer players, written more poetry, performed poetry, interviewed, applied, heard cello playing that reminded me of how I feel sometimes about our future with God in heaven, and also done the more 'normal' but wonderful things that I tend to take for granted, like cooking.]

“All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.” Psalm 38:9

David writes this feeling the weight of sin and worldly opposition to/misunderstanding of him. Though whatever afflictions I have experienced seem to pale in comparison to those David underwent,  as I drank possibly the most wonderful apple cider my mouth has known this evening in our basement, this verse was the resonance of my heart.

What is it to long? Not to want, or think would be cool, or take interest in, or even be “totally down” with…those words are not enough. My heart is longing. Longing for God; for more; for truer, purer love; for magnificence; for the heart-thumping rivers of life patiently waiting in God’s storehouses for those He loves.

Despite what my fervor for mathematics and logic might cause people to assume, I have known myself to be a romantic at times, making the question at hand something I might address more often than some. (or maybe not, I don’t know. I’m only seeing life to the detail I see it from my perspective from my perspective. Limited data leads to shortsighted conclusions…correct me if I’m wrong…right…moving on…) For whatever reason (I say whatever reason, but really, I believe this is God’s plan for us), each new place of fulfillment leads its brother of desire for the ‘immeasurably more’ (paraphrase of an Ale James quote). It’s there. Immeasurably more, that is. God is immeasurably more.

Living more as the person God has made me to be, in the place he has prepared me to live in for this period of time, has been incredible, without a doubt, like organic Washington apple cider from a new friend. But tonight, my grateful mouth and I are up dreaming about orchards in valleys where the rivers run hot. We are longing.