meaning

Floating, falling, or being carried

My spiritual journey, that is to say my life’s journey, has been anything but smooth sailing in a straight line. From what I’ve gathered from the other people I’ve known, spoken with, and traveled with along the way, I am not alone in this. In fact, one of the main themes in the Bible is that the spiritual life is not an easy life. The alternative, however, is much more difficult. 

From Adam and Eve to Abraham, from Moses to David, and even Jesus himself, with all of God’s people and prophets in between, no one had a life without challenges. It could even be said that to be a follower of God is to live a life of sacrifice and suffering. This is also true for those who do not follow God, but the things sacrificed and the reason for suffering are different. This difference, it seems, is really the point. 

God does not ask those who follow him to sacrifice meaninglessly. Nor does he make his people suffer without purpose. He promises us that, as long as we act faithfully, our pain, grief, and confusion will all have been for something. It will all for us, not against us. 

It’s not always easy to see this when we are in the middle of it. No one enjoys suffering, not even Jesus. But with him as our example, as our king, our friend, and our savior, we are given hope. We are told not to worry, not to fear, and to trust that God loves us. In fact, we are told that God is love and that we, like Jesus, are his beloved children. 

Sometimes the spiritual journey feels like floating. Other times, it feels like falling. When we look back, I suspect, it will feel more like we were being carried, and being carried might explain the feelings of floating and falling we experience along the way. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Your hope may be the only hope someone else has

I know that, in spite of her cheerful and enthusiastic demeanor, my daughter suffers from time to time. She has told me that she gets lonely. As an only child, I fear that we have made it difficult for her to relate to other children.

It doesn’t help that she is different. She is different because she is half-Asian and doesn’t look like the other kids. She is different because her mother and I are older than most of the parents of her peers. She is different because she was raised in a multi-generational household with grandparents to guide and teach her, so she has always been ahead of her grade level. She is different because she is creative, she’s a leader, and she is so damn smart, and I’m not just saying that as a doting father. The truth is that she is smarter than both her mother and myself.

I just don’t want to see her lose heart. I don’t want to see her become cynical. We joke about being weird. I can joke about it now because I have found solace in my weirdness, but it wasn’t always funny. It has also been lonely, painful, and confusing. To her, it is just lonely, painful, and confusing.

She doesn’t understand why the other kids don’t want to play with her. She is frustrated and hurt by the fact that some of the kids who are friends with her one-on-one choose to ignore her play on the playground while playing with other kids who exclude her from their games. She calls these kids “half-friends.” At least she knows that, but that knowledge hurts.

This pains and saddens me. I can feel it in my marrow. I have been there. I have been her. It made no sense to me then and it makes no sense to me now. She is full of life, full of joy and enthusiasm, and as sincere and loyal as they come. Why can’t the other kids see that? Why don’t they see how kind, smart, and generous she is? Why is she excluded? It makes no sense. No child should feel alone and unaccepted amongst their peers.

I know life is not fair, but I refuse to accept the unfairness of this. So we talk about it. I try to make it make sense. I try to give her hope. I tell her she is loved and appreciated, and that she will find her place in the world someday.

It may take a while and it may not be easy, but this is all temporary. And sometimes she cries. And sometimes I cry, but I try to stay strong for her because I know, even if she can’t see it now, there is meaning in all of this.

There are lessons in all of this. It makes no sense now. It feels wrong and it feels unfair. But these struggles will become her story someday and her story will help others through their pain, their loneliness, and their confusion. It is so important not to lose hope because your hope may be the only hope someone else has.