I knew this day would eventually come. The day when I reconsider why I decided to work in the ministry. The day I reconsider jumping into a profession that provides little marketability outside of a very small niche market. The day when I feel like perhaps I should build a hermitage in rural Missouri and take up mysticism and writing Spanish love poems.
I knew this day would come because I am a normal human being and humanity is perpetually discontented with life on earth.
It seems strange that this discontentedness would strike me during a time when we are preparing to recall our Savior's birth into this earth. The perfect Christ-child came to us and walked beside us. He didn't run away from us, but suffered alongside us, because of us, for us. And I find myself immersed in galactic consumerism, battles over worship service times, disappointment in the people around me, and a desire to escape to the hills and pretend as if I don't exist for a few moments. If human life was good enough for God's Son shouldn't it be good enough for me?
I am not superficially unhappy and I can readily name a seemingly endless list of blessings in my life. Great job, roommate, car, book list... those things don't complete me. Like most people, I crave a more profound sense of contentment, joy, peace. And despite my rash solution to run for the hills, I wonder if the exact opposite approach wouldn't bring greater fulfillment.
No matter how far I travel from the Grand Canyon of void in my heart, it will not cease to exist until I seek to fill it with the water of my baptism, my Savior's love given to me undeserved.