This is a brief series on fuzzy hope -- when you want something but you don't know what it is. Today is day one. There might be five or six of these. You can subscribe HERE.
I don't remember when I first heard the question. But I remember when I first answered it.
It was five years ago.
"What do you really want?"
To answer it, I had to pretend. I had to pretend that I was someone else and that another someone else had asked me the question.
The only way I could answer was if I wasn't me.
Because 'me' has always done what other people want. 'Me' has always thought the God's-will-for-my-life idea happened TO you and not THROUGH you with your cooperation. 'Me' always thought doing what you want sounds selfish and unspiritual.
I don't know why I took the question serious. It seems like it evolved over several days or weeks. Maybe it was years. But it was as if someone really was asking and they expected an answer. As if they wanted to know if I was paying attention.
Paying attention to something put inside me by someone else. Something already there. Did I notice, could I recognize it? Or was I too busy with my own agenda?
What? Too busy with my own agenda to recognize what I really wanted? That doesn't make sense.
Well, if you just flat out ask me, sure I know what I want, but there's all kinds of talent and experience and credentialing and talent and time limits and lots more that just make this an unrealistic question . . .
"I didn't ask you what you really wanted IF. I asked you what you really wanted period. Would you just answer the question?"
I didn't hear those words. But it was as if I did. Like someone very important expected me to take it serious and give an answer. And they were waiting.
That's when I pretended. I pretended that it wasn't me and that I could actually answer the question without any limits or qualifications. Just pretend, I thought.
"I'd really like to say things that make a difference. Those messages inside me -- I'd like to speak them and write them down, and leave them behind after I'm gone. And I'd like to have a small place in some rural or mountain area where small groups of people come to hear God and be encouraged."
There, I said it. It was like it had always been inside me but it was invisible until I said it.
And I felt RATS, now it's visible. Now I have to do something about it. But that's a whole different conversation which is what Scary Hope is about.
How would YOU answer that question?
What do you really want? Seriously.
I know, it doesn't seem right -- you're not suppossed to be asked, you're suppossed to be told. You don't just get to pick whatever you want.
But what if what you want IS what you've been told? And the question is asked to make sure you've heard what you've been told?
Maybe you think, "What if it's just me and I'm not really being asked that question?"
But what if it's not just you and you ARE being asked?
How would you answer?
Maybe you say "I really want what I got going on now. What's the big deal? You introspective ones kill me."
If that's you I'm jealous.
Maybe like me, if you give yourself permission, you actually do see something and can define it, but you don't see how in a million years it could happen. Again, that's Scary Hope.
Or maybe you don't have a clue. You want to answer it but can't. And the question feels uncomfortably personal. That's fuzzy hope and the next few days are for you.
Next: Becoming who you already are
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