I’ve been immersed in conversations of comfort lately – and not the squooshy, feel-good dialogues of the heart (although those have been present), but conversations of the comfortable and uncomfortable, of content and discontent, in our lives and in the everyday.
A tension exists in my own heart: I crave comfort and familiarity, because, I mean, who doesn’t? But at what point does comfort cross the threshold of good, and the safe and predictable become bad for us?
I’m guilty of the latter.
What happens when too much comfort hits a marriage?
Or a job, or even then, one’s finances? [Oh, the comfort a stable, predictable paycheck brings!]
What about the choices we make in the foods we eat, or in how we manage our time, or even in the way we exercise (or don’t exercise, for that matter)?
And at the end of the day, I realize that today I have more questions than answers – and that that’s okay. I recognize the seasons of life, the ebb and flow, and I let grace-grace-grace be sprinkled over my life and those around me so that we’re not constantly bargaining towards behavioral change as a standard of measurement. I give myself permission to not change and stay where I am for a little while, if that’s what’s needed in the here and now.
But I do want to keep my heart in check to what the rest of my body is doing, so that I’m not just going through the drab motions of the everyday, lost to predictability’s gripping vice. I want to be open to whispers, like those this picture created in my depths, that challenge me to think and to question what it might look like to move out of ruts.
What about you? What does this picture stir in your heart?0