Care Instructions for a Life Worth Living - Friday, May 22, 2015
When a new object or stimulus is introduced to our environment, we are intensely aware of it, but the awareness fades over time. So, for instance, when we first begin to wear a new wristwatch, we feel it on our wrist constantly, but after a while we don’t even notice that it’s there.
When people move into a new home, they generally have a list of things they must repair or remodel because the sight of them is intolerable. Five years later, they may still have the same list, but the lack of repair doesn’t bother them anymore.
One of the greatest challenges in life is fighting what might be called spiritual habituation. We simply drift into acceptance of life in spiritual maintenance mode. We rationalize it because we think, “I’m not involved in major scandalous sin. I haven’t done anything to jeopardize getting into heaven. I’m doing okay.” And we forget that Jesus never said, “I have come that you might do okay.” Okay is not okay. We have a kind of spiritual attention deficit disorder that God will have to break through.
When life is on spiritual autopilot, rivers of living water do not flow through it with energy and joy. Instead it looks like this:
I yell at my children.
I worry too much about money or my job.
I get jealous of people more successful or attractive than I.
I use deception to get out of trouble.
I pass judgment on people, often when I am secretly jealous of them.
Spiritual habituation is in some ways more dangerous than spiritual depravity because it can be so subtle, so gradual. Mostly it involves a failure to see. We are drawn to children and saints and poets because they notice things that the rest of us have forgotten to see. “I hold this against you,” Jesus said to the church at Ephesus. “You have forsaken your first love.”
In Genesis 28, God sent Jacob a dream at Bethel. So why doesn’t he send us all dreams every night? Why doesn’t he make every day a rainbow day and send epiphanies twenty-four-seven? Maybe it’s because God wants us to learn to see him in the ordinary rather than be dependent on the extraordinary. Maybe it’s because if God regularly satisfied our demand for special effects it would be like a mother who inadvertently trains her children to pay attention only when she raises her voice. Maybe the reason God lowers his voice is so we will learn to pay attention.
Maybe ordinary days aren’t “ordinary” at all, but part of the required course to develop wonder-filled eyes and praise-fluent tongues.
Perhaps our capacity to pay attention to God — like the capacity to lift weights or speak Spanish — only gets stronger when it gets exercised.
Walk through yesterday in your mind with God, asking where he was present and at work in each scene. Start with the moment when you woke up … what were your first thoughts? Then go on from one scene to the next through your day. What patterns are emerging?
Look and listen to see how God is speaking to you through these daily scenes.