Uh oh, I have a new sin…

Hey there, Envy. Welcome to the club.

I temporarily relocated to a new “retreat house” on this, Day 61 of The Situation. It’s a beaut.

It’s an order of magnitude different than the last place, which is not to say it’s better. Just different. In the last place, clouds of incense began their household wafting around 5:00 AM most days. My friend and host would start his days with prayer, reading, and a walk - during which he’d pray and read some more. It was very much like a monastery with its routines of reverence.

The new location is more modern; almost spartan. The walls are adorned with colorful works of art, and it - and the whole neighborhood - look like something plucked from the mind of my maternal grandfather, a self-taught designer and architect working back in the late 50s and early 60s. Stylish ranches and ramblers as far as the eye can see.

The comfortable commonalities: deeply charitable and gracious hosts and sprawling icon walls. The grand pianos in each home are a nice touch, too.

I went for a prayer walk this morning, as is my life-sustaining custom. The anchor-point of the walk was a Frank Lloyd Wright home about a mile away. I scrubbed that when I realized the route required a long stretch along a major highway that didn’t have sidewalks or even a median. So, I did an about-face and headed back west through the neighborhood.

Prayer time was difficult today. My jaw kept hitting the pavement with a wet “thwock!” The homes in this neighborhood are simply beautiful. There are some approaching “mansion” status, but most are one-storey retro things that simply say, “classic.” They’re understated, not flashy. Comfortable, not ostentatious, and they preside over perfectly manicured lawns that themselves invite thoughts of lawn parties or big family gatherings. These are homes where good living happens - they’re not just trophy homes.

I was simply appreciating the beauty of these homes until I walked past one end of a private pond. On one side was a simple firepit setup with some deck chairs around it, and a fun, probably dangerous drop into the pond. It looked like the perfect spot for small gatherings of friends and family. I actually gasped.

This was the moment I realized I might developing an envy problem. 

I never wanted to be rich. Or “wealthy” as the rich gurus say. Besides, as John Hiatt sings, “When I was a boy, I thought it just came to you.” I figured - insofar as I consciously figured anything - that if I was basically a good person and showed up on time, everything would just work out. And actually, really early on, I never expected to see 30 years old. I’m far, far from that dark place now, but I honestly didn’t expect to be able to bear the pain that long. So, climbing corporate ladders, building empires, or becoming famous just wasn’t on the radar. 

Two problems with that: One, I mistook my casual despair for the virtue of humility. Two, it made for epically disastrous financial planning. 

Here I am, closer to twice-30 than I am to 30 itself, and I’m just now igniting the drive and ambition that I should have been cultivating and refining decades ago. 

Yeah, it sucks. 

I know. Comparing oneself to others is stupid for a whole variety of reasons. This is especially true when you become aware of what “God’s plan for you” really means. God’s plan for us has far less to do with which school we should go to (if any), what we should become professionally, who we should marry, or maybe even what legacy we leave behind. I think - I believe pretty strongly, actually, based on what I’ve learned on the eastern Christian side of things - that the Plan is more about what we call theosis, or divinization. Not in some New Age mystical sense, but actually being filled with grace, the very life of God. That requires refinement and, yes, suffering; the unmaking of our selves and rebuilding with more divine “stuff” that somehow makes us more ourselves than any self-making could ever accomplish.

And yet…

And yet, damn it, I want to live in one of these houses. I want my wife to be safe and comfortable in a place of beauty where we entertain our friends and families (if only…), mark life’s milestones, or even grieve together. I want to have a gin & tonic in the pool on one of these vulgarly hot Oklahoma evenings. And let’s be honest here - I want my home to be a living museum of my family’s travels through life, with walls of pictures of the kids growing up, the knick-knacks picked up along our travels, and crazy, pretentious “art”work that says more about my nimble wit than anything true, good or beautiful.

We were close. Ish. I’d built a business that, at it’s height, was making enough for all of that and more. With a few tweaks in our souls and our business plan, we might have gotten there. However, as I’ve had more than a few occasions to reflect on lately, if we had achieved these things, we would have been consumed by them. And we would have been immolated by each other’s failings as people.

The good news: we’re not dead. More than that, we’re igniting. The things I’m working on right now cut a straight path through the brambles, and Cibola shines in the distance. We’re healthy and we have time. What’s different? For me, at least, there’s at least an ounce of humility. That - and this is huge for me - there’s discipline and belief that the big vision is real and attainable. But perhaps most importantly, I’m learning to get out of God’s way. The particulars of His plan for my sanctification may preclude most of these worldly desires, and I’ll have to be okay with it. That might be my biggest battle.

Vivere est militare.

---

Like what you’re reading? Want to fight about it? Comment below, look me up on Twitter, or help start a conversation over on the Facebook page. Better yet, tell a friend.