My dog knows when good things are near. He smells them. Sees them. He also knows that it is within the power of the humans in possession of such things to give him what he wants. But even if they don't—as long as those smells linger and there's hope that a stray crumb might fall—my boy stays put, and waits.
The only dog who doesn't beg for table crumbs is a dog who's never received something there by gift or happy accident. Animals are hard wired for desire. And so are we.
We're creatures of longing, made to yearn for that out-of-reach thing; made to ache for what we sense but cannot see. C. S. Lewis called that inconsolable desire by its German name, sehnsucht, and a keen sense of it infused his writing and his life. "If I find in myself a desire which nothing in this world can satisfy," he wrote, "the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world." (It was this quote--and the haunting idea behind it--that inspired my book, The Beautiful Ache, years ago.)
What Lewis discovered (and I have, too) is that in ignorance of the true object of our hard-wired longing—God—we substitute other things. We settle for less because we cannot imagine more, or trouble ourselves to wait or to press on for the promise of that "other world." Especially when our hearts are so stubbornly mired in this one.
We hustle crumbs when God would offer a feast. We substitute food or sex or worldly goods or shallow connections when we know they will not deeply satisfy. (Cannot, in fact satisfy.) Maybe we reckon that such tin-foil pleasures are all that we might have—all that we deserve. In the latter we may be right, but in the former, we could not be more wrong.
God has made us for himself—with the capacity to enjoy him forever. The Fall made us beggars for crumbs that will not—cannot—fully satisfy. But his table is set for us and is groaning with good things. Still...
We are not there yet. This wide place we are traveling through is mean and harsh and most unwelcoming at times—but that is no reason to imagine it is not crammed with hints of the glory that will one day be ours. And while we hope for what we cannot see, there is more than enough room and reason to delight in what our eyes can already comprehend: the daily, fleeting glimpses [crumbs?] of his goodness that are everywhere, always. We are made for just that kind of joy. (The Beautiful Ache, 245)
"You will make known to me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; in Your right hand there are pleasures forever."
(Psalm 16:11, NASB)
I have your book - in fact every one of your books and they are beautifully written and so comforting and inspiring. To know the love of God is the best thing ever - and the only sure place in this crazy world. 🙏🏻🙏🏻
Psalm 16:11 is my favorite verse!