Half a jar of jelly, ranch dressing, and what is THAT?
Sometimes I get so irritated with my own restlessness that I start peppering myself with questions out of frustration.
As if that’s helpful.
As if I’m going to hear anything different from the last time I did it.
What do you want?
What are you looking for?
Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t. More often than not, it’s like standing in front of the open fridge with a raging case of the munchies, only to discover that in spite of all the containers of mystery leftovers and half-empty jars of condiments, there’s nothing in there to eat. Or better put, nothing in there I want.
I live in blessing. And I am grateful for that blessing.
I am also hungry. What I am hungry for can’t be found in any fridge.
I have to keep reminding myself that my hunger isn’t a condemnation of what’s wrong with me. It’s simply a facet of how God made me and the desires He put in me. I am not trying to be hard to please or overly picky. I’m just trying to be a good steward by not settling for what I know isn’t going to scratch the itch and will just lead to more restlessness.
But hunger is a tension, and it’s not easy to live in tension.