“There’s more!” I heard Him whisper in my ears.
Yes, so much more.
There came a time in my life when I settled. That can be good and bad. In more ways than one, age and life experience have a lot to do with it. I have settled my disagreements with family by agreeing to disagree. I settled into a set of beliefs that cannot be shaken from me. I am settled into a safe and comfortable routine. I settled my theological questions by choosing to trust His Word, no matter what. I settled my inside wars by growing up and letting go. I settled into acceptance that I cannot be perfect, and neither do I need to be.
That’s a good thing.
But there is a settling that is dangerous. And this kind also has a lot to do with age and life experiences. This is the kind that declares that the pain isn’t worth the effort, even if the outcome is wonderful. And this kind declares that I might as well take it easy because there isn’t any thing more exciting or new to discover. This settling comes when I stop fighting, learning, growing, hoping. And at first, it’s a relief–I can be done with the stretching that comes from always pushing forward and being challenged in my thinking, my body, my spirit, my everything. But after a while, it begins to eat at my life. Small bites at first. And they grow into big chunks. Eventually, it kills my enthusiasm. Purpose leaves, a foul mood settles in and I begin to make friends with boredom. And that is not a good thing…
“There is more,” I heard Him whisper to my heart.
“More to discover, more to experience, more to rule over, more to overcome. There are mountains that you have not yet climbed, and the view at the top will be worth every sweaty step on the way up. There are new territories to take, new challenges to be empowered with. There are more causes to fight for, more injustices to rectify, more hands to hold. More books to write and more smiles to give. More joy to experience. More life to live. Open your eyes and look.”
So I opened my eyes and looked. And I saw a brand new page in the book of my life. It wasn’t yet written upon. And He handed me the pencil.
My More. Or not.