a long walk through the desert

i wrote the greater portion of this in september. still it remains true...

the closest i've been to a desert was when my family drove from San Diego to Idaho. as we passed through Nevada, we drove miles and miles on a straight road through the desert. and all i remember of it is the complete nothingness there. no other cars, no gas stations, no mountains. only flat morbidness and the continued pressing idea that if the car broke down, we would have no idea what to do. we would be stuck.

for 5 months i've been walking further and further into the desert - trying to find my way back, but getting lost and sucked further into the desert's lair. getting lost in the little lies and easiness of the world. calling out to God to bring me back from time to time, but ultimately relying on myself to find the way.

If you don’t feel strong desires for the manifestation of the glory of God, it is not because you have drunk deeply and are satisfied. It is because you have nibbled so long at the table of the world. Your soul is stuffed with small things, and there is no room for the great. -John Piper

you choose the most appetizing steak (or seafood, or pasta, or whatever you love) on the menu when you're at a restaurant. and then, before you see your entree - before you can smell it or taste of it, you have bread and a salad and an appetizer set before. you're filled before you can taste the best part, the healthiest part, the part that will really fulfill what you've been slobbering after. i've been satisfied with pretzels and gummy bears when i could have had a feast. i have a muffin top when i could have a six pack.

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Four months after writing this, and I'm still tiptoeing the borders of the desert. trying, waiting. crying out, forgetting. backtracking, hurting.

Make haste, O God, to deliver me!
    O Lord, make haste to help me!
(Ps. 70)