At any time and at any place along the paths on which our journey takes us, we are liable to rest for too long in the comfort of our circumstances or good fortune, or in a self-satisfied warmth generated by our knowledge of having come as far as we have. Equally, if we have been unable to leave behind past discomforts or bad fortune, carrying these forward to discolour our view of the present and preventing all recognition of illumination, hope and joy in the future, we keep alive a mindset of resignation, of futility, and even of bitterness, which, though sensed as being a maintaining of what we believe to be the status quo, is in fact as much a ‘resting’ as is the lack of movement in those who bathe in their comfort and smiles. It is as much a wallowing in self-pity as is the other a wallowing in self-satisfaction.
Whatever may have brought us to this point in our journey, it has provided the backdrop for our present thoughts and feelings but is not itself responsible for our state of inactivity; it is ourselves who have brought us to a halt. However largely individuals may figure in the artwork we have applied to our backdrop, and however squarely we lay the blame, or praise, for aspects of our past and present on their shoulders, their involvement in our decision to stop walking our path is at best only indirect: it is part of an attempt to rationalize our view of our situation. We cannot share the responsibility for failing to move on with anybody else, as we alone have distracted ourselves from our purpose as effectively as through our giving of too much time to thinking around God rather than building our relationship with Him.
We may have a sense of being part of something beyond the boundaries of our own existence and beyond our control but which, at the same time, heightens the awareness of our individuality and integrity within that broader and deeper realm; we are at once attracted by it, and as we direct our attention to it, fascination brings an apparently clear invitation to stay.
It is probable that any of us ‘resting’ on the journey in response to such an attraction, and who hold on to whatever they have learned or discerned, discovered or experienced along the way, will begin to believe that this is where they are meant to be. This applies equally to those with a negative backdrop to their present lives, but to re-focus for the moment on those who dwell in the glow of their spiritual advance, however small the advance may be, depending on the duration and the form the rest takes, this delay is not necessarily a bad thing. We must not be unduly waylaid or distracted when it is our turn to be held back in this way – and our turn will come, perhaps repeatedly – but so long as we do not lose sight of the fact that our journeying must go on, and that we have not actually arrived anywhere, this pause need not be the start of our stopping; it need not be the insignificant end to what should have become a significant lifelong quest.
Recognition can be blurred and enthusiasm dissipated when our trust in the truth of our own spiritual map begins to fade. If we do not truly believe that which deep within ourselves we profess to believe, the light by which we are led begins to dim and we are less able to see the map; and despite both its outline and its detail having been compiled by ourselves - having been made, as it were, in our own image - we are unable to retain the confidence and self-belief derived from our gradual seeking and finding without the reassurance of our map. If we are no longer able to see it we cannot read it; if we cannot read it we derive no reassurance from it, and without the reassurance that had been our reason for maintaining the map, we have no grounds for the continued carrying of it. We have lost sight not only of our map but of our objective and of our destination. We have lost our vision: we are blinded, both in the present and in our memory, with no substantial recall of God’s beckoning and leading in the past: the word and deed, the presence and touch, the thought and the dream; the cloud and fire which guided our earlier steps along the way.
We may have a sense of being part of something beyond the boundaries of our own existence and beyond our control but which, at the same time, heightens the awareness of our individuality and integrity within that broader and deeper realm; we are at once attracted by it, and as we direct our attention to it, fascination brings an apparently clear invitation to stay.
It is probable that any of us ‘resting’ on the journey in response to such an attraction, and who hold on to whatever they have learned or discerned, discovered or experienced along the way, will begin to believe that this is where they are meant to be. This applies equally to those with a negative backdrop to their present lives, but to re-focus for the moment on those who dwell in the glow of their spiritual advance, however small the advance may be, depending on the duration and the form the rest takes, this delay is not necessarily a bad thing. We must not be unduly waylaid or distracted when it is our turn to be held back in this way – and our turn will come, perhaps repeatedly – but so long as we do not lose sight of the fact that our journeying must go on, and that we have not actually arrived anywhere, this pause need not be the start of our stopping; it need not be the insignificant end to what should have become a significant lifelong quest.
Recognition can be blurred and enthusiasm dissipated when our trust in the truth of our own spiritual map begins to fade. If we do not truly believe that which deep within ourselves we profess to believe, the light by which we are led begins to dim and we are less able to see the map; and despite both its outline and its detail having been compiled by ourselves - having been made, as it were, in our own image - we are unable to retain the confidence and self-belief derived from our gradual seeking and finding without the reassurance of our map. If we are no longer able to see it we cannot read it; if we cannot read it we derive no reassurance from it, and without the reassurance that had been our reason for maintaining the map, we have no grounds for the continued carrying of it. We have lost sight not only of our map but of our objective and of our destination. We have lost our vision: we are blinded, both in the present and in our memory, with no substantial recall of God’s beckoning and leading in the past: the word and deed, the presence and touch, the thought and the dream; the cloud and fire which guided our earlier steps along the way.
'The Lord preceded them, by day in a pillar of cloud to show them the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light ...’
(Exodus 13:21)
Our experience of simply ‘being’: of being in existence and of living life, makes it impossible not to have a backdrop to our lives upon which we have painted and drawn the significant and influential points and pointers from it. But it can be difficult not to also create some sort of spiritual map for ourselves. It will not usually be born of a definite decision, but rather from the unobtrusive piecing together of bits and pieces from our lives: good and bad words, deeds and experiences, and their powerful and influential consequences, all bound into a volume that will not readily yield to being torn apart. We cannot completely leave it all behind when we travel but that is no reason to re-arrange it into a map. Our lives have shaped each one of us, and while all that has gone before influences our present, it does not have to be projected into our future. This may be clear enough to many of us with regard to our worldly lives (the backdrop) but is it as clear with all that has happened during our journey towards, into and in faith?
It may be that we have already been shaped according to God’s will, and that much of what now exists within us will indeed be carried forward to our future calling, but we must remain open to whatever God may have waiting for us, and if and when we do stop, we may rest only long enough to catch our prayerful breath before moving on.
The Israelites were led by God from Egypt into the desert; they took their experience of life under Pharaoh with them; it was a part of who they were; and they were led by Moses, not into some immediate state of comfort or delight but into the desert, away from everything other than their unity, their community, and the presence of God.
The Israelites were led by God from Egypt into the desert; they took their experience of life under Pharaoh with them; it was a part of who they were; and they were led by Moses, not into some immediate state of comfort or delight but into the desert, away from everything other than their unity, their community, and the presence of God.
Their destination was the Promised Land, but it would not be reached without years of making their own paths in the desert, and those tracks could not be made until they had the freedom to leave.
‘The Lord says this: Let my people go and worship me.’ (Exodus 8:16)
And they could not follow God’s guiding light without leaving their own footprints in the sand.
