“I lift my eyes up to the hills—where does my help come from?”
Surely not from endlessly digging into a pit
trying to work so hard at something, anything,
but going in the wrong direction.
Digging away at the list of things there is to do,
but even as I throw out heaps going farther down I see—
My hole isn’t getting deeper.
It’s shallow and rough and taking the shape of a cross.
And those things, those things that demand so much time and so much strength
never seem to go away.
I feel the ground shake beneath my feet
and before I can even begin to wonder how much further
I’ll have to go to make it through,
I’m lifted by that cross,
lifted from the pit and set on those green hills that once seemed so distant.
I can’t even stand.
Falling on my knees as I look up into the face that holds
all my pain and anguish.
Your eyes pierce to the inside of my soul—
deeper even than the nails driven into your hands,
And I know.
I was digging my hole, deeper and deeper,
not into the ground, but into my heart.
The shape of the cross on which you hang before my eyes,
asking to be the only one who can fill it.
We’re all chasing at something, digging our own holes. We try to form them into whatever image we like—whatever we think will fulfill us—but like St. Augustine said, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.” It is my hope and my belief that when we let Christ fill those holes in our hearts we will find shalom in everything else. Even the best of intentions can have us focusing on spiritual formation, incarnational ministry, missional living… but unless we seek Christ first, we will miss the whole point and just be digging another of our own holes.
Breanne
