Prompted by being rescued out of depression last September, I had decided to get a tattoo to commemorate the words I felt my Lord had spoken to me on that tear-drenched autumn evening nearly a year ago. And though I plan on writing more about that particular experience, and the recent addition of ink to my body, very soon, this post today is focused on a different, though related, matter.
Walking up to a couple of friends only a moment ago, I was prompted to display my tattoos. Smiling from my heart to my head I proudly and energetically presented my arms. My enthusiasm produced a laugh from my friend, which I gladly returned. And this short moment in my day prompted a thought.
I think that many of us are simply not as used to being excited as we ought. I consider myself in particular as having a rather strange relationship with excitement, rarely feeling it except in the absolute moment of a worthy experience, and then only very briefly. Beyond that I see in many, men likely more than women, a certain reluctance to exhibit joy in a way that’s noticeable. We are so buttoned down, so concerned with looking the part — the part being that of an adult, a figure often presumed to be in some way beyond childlike whimsy and wonder. Yet I think we would benefit a great deal from more wonder in our lives.
When was the last time you went somewhere where you couldn’t hear motor traffic? Somewhere where the only noise was the ringing of myriad bugs and the croaking of unseen frogs around you? When have you last gone out of your way to put your bare feet in the grass, and stand still with your eyes open, and your heart awake? Have you felt the wind on your bare arms recently? Do you recall your last belly laugh? Have you jumped for joy lately, literally jumped? If none of these things can be said of you, I am truly sorry.
I have observed recently the curious fact that though children seem totally unhindered in their appreciation of the beauty of the world, seemingly wired to enjoy it without effort, adults rarely carry such a perspective. And yet our world hasn’t changed in the decades since we gazed upon it with younger eyes. This world is older than we by far, and yet we seem often to labour under the delusion that we have outgrown it. I think that perhaps we have it backwards: that in fact we have grown smaller as we have aged, and at the same time forgotten the grandeur of the world entrusted to us.
I pray that this would not be true of us, now or ever. Let the generation that is inform those who are to come, and teach them to see the world with bright eyes, eyes that seek for wonder in the smallest things, in every corner and cranny, in every crease and wrinkle of aged skin, that in the windows of our souls would be seen abundant life.
In the light shining upon the ground I see the waves of the ocean, and in the sky the smile of my Creator. Lord my Lord, keep my eyes open, and my heart pure, that I might never cease to see the wonder of your world. Let me not forget to laugh for fear of ridicule, but rather fill my mind with love, that I might laugh in the face of fright. Lead me not to shy from the darkness of the unknown, but with boldness to go where shadows are, that I might see the light made greater still.
love,
— Joel