Hey Dad,
You used to ask me, “how does it feel to want?”
It was always after I communicated my desire for something. Like ice cream. Or, going to Universal Studios. You’d laugh, and pop the question. You were probably expressing your inability or unwillingness to make my want happen, alongside your acute nature to ask silly, profound questions.
I’m older now; I can see my graduation of answers over the years.
The first: obvious confusion. Young me was unsure how to navigate the question. I mean, isn’t want already a feeling? Like, how’s it feel to feel mad?
As I got a little older, my answer changed to a simple, “good, I guess.” My uncertainty still reverberating through my response. Looking back, I can see that I didn’t realize you were asking this question to signify your denial of my request. In my mind, wanting something was a good thing. If you want chocolate, then you get to have some chocolate.
I got older again, it was among the last times I heard you ask this question. How does it feel to want? The obvious conclusion: not good. Wanting, without its reward of getting, is a pretty frustrating emotion. Dissatisfying. Disappointing. Left without.
I continued to get older, left the country for missions, came back, started college and began dabbling in self medication. A route of recreation I had looked down on you for taking, for years. How does it feel to want? Here, in this season, I began to notice that I had severe impulse control malfunctions. I wanted what I wanted. And for the first time in my life, the things that I wanted undermined my relationship with the Lord. I felt close with you this season. Of similar curses. Scriptures of appetites and holding fast stood out to me. I heard your mantra whisper in my mind, repetitious demands that I hadn’t previously taken note of: “I am content. I am content. I am content.” I devoured Timothy’s, “God gives me strength to do all things.” And pastors’ wise take on the chapter being of contentment (contrary to its popular use). Denying yourself is of the most basic, primary, initial steps into chasing after Jesus - as he said to anyone that asked to follow him. Sell all your things. Take up your cross. Be born again.
I’ve gotten older still, and my answer has changed. Perhaps it will again in years to come, but for now, here is where I find myself: Wanting is good. But, wanting good things is of the utmost importance. I’ve gotten married. I’ve practiced lent. I’ve fasted. I’ve sabbath’ed. I’ve loved and been loved. God has ruptured the heavens for my blessings in this time. I’ve admired John piper’s, “~the only way, that I have found, to truly get rid of a sin, is to grow a distaste for it.” I’ve prayed and repented of my more self-destructive wants. While maintaining a healthy fear that, if I whined hard enough to God for a king, he would hand me over to a Saul. Or an idol. Or some other thing on the throne that infects my day to day steering through life. But, to want the Lord, or any derivative function, is (in my mind) the most powerful thing a human can feel. For example, the deepest of my heart's aches is for those who are raised, being taught, to value what the Lord hates. The mountains I will move, the stories I will write, the people I will touch in order to restrain this lawlessness is an undeniable, irresistible, potent spiritual want.
All the writer people say that when making a character, and weaving them through a story, their motivations are essential. Their wants. Their flaws or obstacles (the things that get in the way of what they want), is what makes a story. Any story. To want is our most woven biological, environmental, and spiritual mechanic with which we navigate this world. Every one of us is given an inherent set of desires. And we spend the rest of our lives figuring out what to do with them.
The Jesus story is where a nation of people wrestle with God, they pray and repent, they meditate daily on the heart of the Lord, and they’re revealed what it is He wants and align themselves with a holy, supernatural ability. A generation passes. And this people group decide that, the wants of the nations around them are the more satisfying chases. They fall, give into destruction, and God hands them over (as he has done to you in your mantra’s failing). Eventually, after three or even four generations, they repent, and the story takes place with a new generation all over again.
So when I write, instead of making a man heroic or villainous, I instead take account the allegiance of their desires. How does it feel to want? What are they willing to sacrifice to capture it? Would they dethrone God?
Thank you, Dad. For your teachings. You struggled to control what you wanted and in the end, you never were able to conquer them. God forgives you, even now, and notes the deepest manifestations of your heartfelt attempts year in and year out. You will never feel an unrighteous want again.
Beautiful. ❤️