"That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me." --Emily Dickinson
The last drop of water hits the floor as I crank the shiny silver handle back to its position of preference; another check mark on the list of things to do today. Finding a non-descript purple bowl and spoon, I dump a half cup of symmetrical square wheat wonderfulness into the bowl to await its death by drowning in skim milk. Grabbing a seat at my desk and sending up a prayer, I open my eyes to the view of a list of homework assignments, a full inbox, and the federalist papers scattered about the grayish speckled desktop.
By now I’m thankful the Chex have already met their demise in the translucent white liquid. Woe be to the one who dismembers that which is still living. Not that cereal is alive, but if it were, it would certainly thank me for the courtesy of drowning it before meeting the impending doom of molars. Sometimes I catch these kinds of thoughts wandering about in my psyche. How strange that I assign stories and values to inanimate objects. Perhaps it’s because I feel I have less time to do the same for that which is living. Though life be surrounded by thousands of people, in some ways, college screams and kicks for solitude as a ragamuffin refusing to bathe does for dirt.
Eh, Stravinsky’s around whenever in need of a temporary diversion from the study. Sometimes I wonder why I’ve chosen to subject myself to this rat race of assignments and classes, these routines of academic toil. Perhaps I’m here for the classic response of those lovers of intellectualism. “I’m learning for learning’s sake.” Perhaps I’m really after acquiring necessary skills for a monetarily gratifying career. Maybe I want to conquer the world, or maybe I believe this is a divine appointment to chase becoming what I should be and do.
Whatever it is, the longer I’m at school, the more I realize how little I understand of myself, the world, my God. The consequence of grasping some facet of knowledge is the contingent realization that there exists more information beyond that which is currently conceived. It’s often a simultaneous experience of exhilaration and discouragement; of joy and confusion. Realization of the limited state of the finite mind could lead to frustration, and to say it has not would be deception on my part.
Regardless, I’m so thankful for this mind, lacking omniscience as it is. To wish more would be to wish for the role of God; an envy of which I want no part. How beautiful then is faith, and how necessary. Reading through the book of Habakkuk, my thoughts resonate much with those of this prophet.
No Cedarville is no being attacked by ruthless Babylonians, yes I do argue with God when his ways seem unfathomable and unjust. I struggle to comprehend his ways and his work. As perplexity intensifies, I find it tempting to do that which many philosophers have tried to do; boil life down to a series of explanations for everything. Not that this is fruitless, as God has given us the capacity for understanding, to neglect making use of it would be a shame.
Even so, it would serve me well to mirror the response of Habakkuk in the midst of his seeking. He learned even then to rest in recognition of God’s sovereign appointment and work through a spirit of worship and confidence. To rest, to attain peace even as those fully processed Chex squares did as they embraced their new life of milk submersion and released their previous joy of plastically wrapped freshness.
Who knows where this life will take me. Perhaps I’ll have a life like Emily Dickinson, who when living published barely a dozen poems, and was dramatically overlooked by those in the elite literature community. Yet today, there is nary one able to live untouched by some bit of her work. Whatever the case may be, I find myself tonight thankful for the hope I am guaranteed that God’s work will be accomplished through my life regardless of my comprehension regarding the means employed.
