It was a cold evening.
A dear friend and I were standing on the edge of the shoreline in Ventura and began throwing rocks into the ocean. She grabbed a smooth stone and said to me, “Let’s make wishes, and with every wish we will toss a stone into the waves”, as if God himself would envelop our petitions and grant to us every desire of our hearts.
As I stood there on the cold sand with my mind swirling with deep longings for differences in my life, I realized something profoundly unexpected.
I realized that with a handful of things I thought I wanted to wish for and change, it would cost me to sacrifice something beautiful I attained in the now, and something about it didn't feel right.
It didn’t feel right for me to forfeit the beauty in challenges and the beauty in things staying the same.
And then I realized that what I really wanted to wish for, was for things to stay put for a second.
This moment caused me to recognize that there are a few key principals of this world that we live in, one being the fact that things take a long while to change, but in that we have a divine opportunity to show up and hold in front of us the privilege of consistency.
It costs us all of who we are to stay still and embrace repetition.
Life can be challenging, and even more so when we don't see fruit being produced amongst everything we try to change about ourselves and our life in general.
But what I’ve come to realize is that “challenging” has too much of a negative connotation, as if a challenge is only brought upon the weary and the weak and the unable. However, I would love to differ and challenge that very mindset. I would say indeed that many days of mine have been challenging, waiting and working and somewhat-patiently expecting the product of repetition to turn into a switch of environment, but it’s not the unbearable kind of challenging.
“For even the seasons change, how could our human hearts stand to stay in place when the world around us progresses forward in cycles?” I ask myself.
Just as the month on the calendar is changed, it feels as if sometimes life doesn’t get the memo. On and on, the same thing over and over. And the older we get, the harder it becomes.
People move. People change. Home is manifested in new places.
G.K. Chesterton shares a piece of heart that has changed my perspective completely, though, when he says:
“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘do it again!’, and the grown-up does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, 'do it again’ to the sun; and every evening 'do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
As Chesterton explains the magic in monotony, I realize that for me, there is implanted expectations I hold for life. That it has to change when I want it to, and to stay the same when I need it to.
And I came to a point recently that found that my heart doesn't actually desire change, it fears it. Not just minor change, it’s the kind of change that hurts, and I think it’s because I fear losing the beauty in small, constant pieces. Like knowing you will always have somebody when storms abound, or being reminded by loved ones just how truly cherished you are. Or even knowing you have a home to call home. I fear these things being snatched, or better yet, these things fading through those who might not treasure the goodness in it as much as you. Sure, it may be exhausting, but I think it’s healthy.
Yes, I believe fear is healthy.
You find yourself fearing the fading of beauty, because that’s simply what sustains you. You long for the unwavering love of others because that’s how we were made to live. And love is manifested in millions of forms, but it’s always the same. It’s always genuine, it’s always sacrificial, it’s always unconditional, and it’s always constant.
The problem? People will fail you.
Let me say it again: People will fail you.
People in your life won’t have the capacity to stay monotonous.
Why? Because we are humans. We fall short. We stumble. We lack. And that’s where you must realize the even greater brilliance found in the consistency of Jesus’ love and in the creation surrounding us that was so eloquently knit together in uniform patterns. We long for monotony because the very foundations of our beings and basis of our character were formed in light of our creator, so the fear of losing these unwavering elements that make up every day is justifiable. It’s allowed. It's healthy.
And I think we don’t even know those parts of our hearts that were made to thrive in the routine exist until something we have become used to is torn away from us.
So learn to cherish those things. Never hesitate to tell those closest and more distant from you that you love them. Never reconsider asking questions. Never forget the dearly true love of the Father, and don’t forsake the beauty in seeking Him with a hungry heart and a steadfast longing, because that alone holds so much magnificence in consistency.
He doesn’t forget to raise the sun in the light of the morning, so we, in return, shall not forget to partner with him in the splendor of faithfulness. Because monotony doesn’t always lack excitement, in fact, the most lovely things are unwavering, steady and faithful. I want to learn to demonstrate it as he does, and I want to experience its joy completely. I want to learn that you can never show up and be present too much.
