A Life Divided

The journey of Holy Week continues as we rapidly approach the Triduum, my favourite time of the liturgical year. My previous post reflected on being willing to follow God’s will and how God will make us ready. Today’s picks up on a similar theme and started when a friend from high school emailed me the following quote:

”One who is content in what he has, and who accepts that [one] inevitably misses very much in life, is far better off than one who has much more but who worries about all s/he may be missing. For we cannot make the best of what we are if our hearts are always divided between what we are and what we are not.”
-Thomas Merton

This quote brought me to tears instantly, hitting me like a ton of bricks, particularly the second sentence: “We cannot make the best of what we are if our hearts are always divided between what we are and what we are not.” The quote seemed to mirror where I am in life — afraid to commit, to try for things because of the “what ifs?”. I’ve been burned recently and I’m just not sure if I can take that risk. If I commit to one thing, does that close the door on other possibilities and opportunities? I’m here in a self-imposed whirlpool of angst and indecision while each successive day only makes it worse.

Acceptance is the key to the first part of that quote. I’d take it one step further; it’s not enough to simply accept God’s will for our lives, to accept the path God is calling us to, we need to also embrace it. We need to say yes, to take the step forward and embrace the possibility. The second part of the quote, “We cannot make the best of what we are if our hearts are always divided,” seems to tie in well with another Thomas Merton quote that reads, “A life is either all spiritual or not at all. No [hu]man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you life for. You are made in the image of what you desire.”

A life divided is a life not lived out to the fullest. God wants us to flourish. God loves us unconditionally and has plans for us, plans to use our talents to our fullest potential. Our hesitation can prevent that, it can keep us from fully experiencing the love and joy of God — to be surrounded and even overwhelmed by that unconditional love. It scares us because it is beyond the realm of human experience. Can we even conceive of God incarnate embracing us, kneeling down to tenderly wash our feet, taking away all our fears, insecurities and sins, leaving us with a feeling of pure, unadultered love? I can’t. Not easily. The simple thought of it threatens to bring me to tears.

God does not ask us to do the impossible. God only asks us to give ourselves wholly to the possibility of what S/He might have in store for us. It is like a dance. To stand at the edge, listening to the music, feeling that tug, moving slightly to the music, but not quite participating. When God stops in front of us and holds out a hand in invitation, it is up to us to take it, to join in and get swept up in the whirlwind of the dance. We cannot worry about what others will think, of whether we’ll know the steps or not — there is no need to worry. God will lead us in the dance and we only need to follow, to let ourselves be spun around and grasped firmly in a loving, secure embrace before we spin out of control. Dancing is about trust, about letting go, trusting that your partner won’t drop you when they dip you, lift you, or flip you. Trusting that you won’t slip and fall —but if you do, God will be there to pick you up because the dance goes on.

When I was home for joint birthday celebrations two weeks ago (my grandfather’s 90th and my 30th), there were various pre- and post- parties at my parents’ house. During one of them, my cousin decided to change the music to something more danceable. I seized the opportunity and asked him to dance since he’d been the one to switch the music. After a bit of hesitation, he took the opportunity to lead me in a fast whirling, spinning dance to the music of Motown. There were a few near misses since we don’t get a chance to dance together often, but we quickly fell into sync, twirling around the living room like we’d always been doing this — as usual, I was barefoot. We hadn’t rolled up the rug beforehand as is custom in my parents’ house before the dancing begins and I joked I’d have rugburn on the bottoms of my feet from dancing barefoot, but I didn’t care. In the moments of the dance, I didn’t care about anything else —I couldn’t worry about the fact that I didn’t have a job or any of the other concerns weighing on my mind. Everything else disappeared because I needed to be fully present in the dance – to be led and twirled and dipped. At the end of the dance, there was no worry, no fear, no discontent. All that was left was the exhilaration and overwhelming joy of the experience. That is what I want for my life, for my relationship with God — an exhilarating, overwhelming, joyful experience dancing in the whirlwind.

I don’t want a life divided, I don’t want a life half-lived. I take this moment, on the eve of the Triduum, to say yes. Yes to the unknown. Yes to the possibilities. Yes to the mad, crazy, wonderful dance. I suspect that God will lead me to something beyond my imagination. I say yes.

As we approach the holiest days of the years, perhaps a bit of reflection is in order —what is got calling us to? Are we willing to end the division in our hearts and follow God wholeheartedly?