Wednesday, May 2, 2012


Another day another rumble.  And I don't mean a old-school gang fight like in the musical that I can't think of right now - you know the one the, the one with the Jets and Sharks.

No, another rumble in my chest.  It's not the coffee, it's not the heart-burn, it's something other and something older.

It's the dissatisfaction I have with days that are, "for all intense and purposes" (this phrase always seems like a long and awkward one to me), just right.

Right now I'm sitting next to the fountain in our Campus Crusade for Christ's headquarters, in hot but beautiful Orlando, having just had my coffee, had my bible study, just sent off a few emails and just shared a short presentation.  Now I have lunch to look forward to, an afternoon of researching and writing, swimming with the kids in the afternoon and something new from the store to put on my bike.  Ahhh, life is just about perfect.

But it's not.  This side of heaven (sounds like a line from the TV series "Seventh Heaven" - I hated that show!) nothing's going to be perfect.

So what am I, as a believer in a imperfect world, going to live, say and do about it?  Am I supposed to mope?  Am I supposed to preach?  Am I supposed to simply put my head down and stick to my daily tasks?

No I think there is something deeply good about accepting imperfection.  About a month ago, my brother-in-law and I were on a bike ride that roamed the hills of Lookout Mountain, GA.  The weather was perfect, birds chirping and all that, and I was looking forward to the sound of our tires blending with the sounds of speed, nature, and the smells of our sweat (yes even this) and effort mingling and with the smells of dirt, oak, pine and a slight hint of skunk (if you're outside - there's always a slight hint of skunk, if you breath deeply enough).

Aaron and I were even blessed with absolutely perfect, crisp spring weather.  Everything was geared up for the perfect ride, accept Aaron's gears.

For some inexplicable reason, Aaron's bike decided that that was going to be the day she (yes bikes are people too) was going to really act up.  Every third pedal stroke or so, the chain would slip and shift, making this loud "CLANK!"  Not only did this slow Aaron down, but it was an audible yank out of our perfect world of speed and nature.

Now Aaron did an amazing thing.  He didn't say any naughty words.  I can't say the same for me.

But this ride taught me something about deep, not intellectually deep but emotively deep, about satisfaction wed to the imperfect.  Was I willing to let go?  Was I willing to allow the clanks to remind me of a better place, a world without "CLANK!" to come alive and burn in my chest?

Now this is the Christian walk, or the Christian bike ride, Godly contentment beside Godly dissatisfaction.

I've heard others talk on this, but it's usually in the corporate model of the "go-ra-ra let's change the world" kind of stuff.  What I'm talking about is consistent itch, or dissatisfaction, that makes the Christian yearn for more.  The old CS Lewis stuff of pipes and contemplation.

More of God.  More redemption.  More knowledge and understanding.  More experience.  More time.  More love.  More compassion.  More, more, more.   A more that is a humble "more please", with palms upward, like a child with sticky gums asking for more caramel pie (of course he'd never say "please").

This is what I'd call good greed, good dissatisfaction and perhaps the fuel that should guide us and remind us of where we are, who we are and who we look to.  So here's to being discontentedly content.  And here's to having a good-ish day!