random musings

the picture above is a shot from the comforts of the folding lawn chair on my balcony. during the pleasant time of year, i can see the wonder of nature, hear birds singing day and night, and observe an occasional dog taking a supervised potty break. during the winter months, mother nature’s privacy fence wanes barren and i get a clear view of balconies belonging to my neighbors on the opposite side of the apartment complex. the balcony is home to a folding chair, a footstool, an end table and a deceased rubber plant. and i don’t mean a plastic plant, made in a factory by a laborer in between mid-morning snack and lunch. this is (or was) an original God-piece, made in His factory to be a part of the radial tire-producing plant family. i inherited this plant several years ago along with a desk, a chair and a job description from someone with more insight than me. the rubber plant was not quite the picture of health when we were first introduced, but a little water and some natural sunlight made us agreeable officemates. since then, the rubber plant has made itself at home in several settings, but most recently on the balcony of my little third-floor apartment.

then winter came. the days grew shorter and the nights grew colder. i visit the balcony less frequently. and whether lack of intention or lack of sun and warmth are more to blame, i can’t be sure, but the rubber plant, my one constant companion over the last several topsy-turvy years, died. it was somewhere between the winter solstice and the ice storm late janurary that my failure to take precaution caused the premature demise of my leafed friend. it’s important to me that we all realize that this was not a premeditated act of malice. it had occurred to me one day that i should bring it in for the night, but i didn’t want to get dirt on the carpet before having some friends over that weekend. it had occurred to me as i fed ollie and gingrich that i hadn’t watered the plant in a while. it just happened. it wasn’t intentional that i let the plant die. in fact, it was lack of intention that killed it. call it careless, call it lack-a-daisy (no pun intended), call it typical single guy behavior… it just happened.

i’ve seen in myself the same tendencies in my spiritual walk. everything is fine one day–God speaks and i listen. i speak and He listens. it’s an intimate relationship between my inner self and the Creator of me and of everything else. then one day the demands of my schedule don’t allow time for study and reflection. the next day, i have my prayer time in the car on the way to the office. days go by and i’ve scarcely given Him a second thought. years and relationships later, something is missing, and i realize that i haven’t heard from my Lover in a while. i’m convinced that God never walks away. that the perceived distance is that only, just perceived. but i dull my awareness of His presence by lack of intention. it just happens, call it what you will. i’m learning that i cannot coast spiritually. i’m learning of my need for Him, and just how deep-seated my need is. i keep this dead rubber plant on my balcony as a reminder that gradual lack of intent is deadly.

am i alone here? maybe i’m just seeking solace. but maybe it afflicts Christ followers everywhere. st. john might call it a dark night of the soul. david crowder sings of spiritual lack of ambition, our belligerent condition. justin mcroberts beautifully penned these words below, echoing my habitual lack of intent:

I’d forgotten just how sweet your mercies are Lord
I’d forgotten just how sweet your mercies are Lord
Could you remind me?
You’ve been faithful in my weakness, Father, your love
Overwhelms my soul, I’m learning to need you.

I cry out your name
I am in need of your mercy, Jesus,
Despite my pride and my shame,
I’m learning to need you.

God, keep me satisfied only in your presence. may i not become so accustomed to Your ways that i forget the Author of them.