Once upon a time a perfect woman had everything every hungry heart strives to pull from this Pintrest laden landscape of unmet expectations and Facebook-impossible standards. She was in a perfect place, in a perfect relationship, in a perfect body.
Everything was just as it should have been.
A perfect woman.
And yet perfection did not satisfy. What haunts us in the wanting isn’t what we lack. She lacked nothing. It is the unquenchable feeling that there is More.
And there is More. We are made to feel the lack in abundance, to be planted in a paradise of endless trees and beauty and remain dissatisfied till we seek Him out to walk in the cool of that shade. But she didn’t say “a tree is missing from the multitude” instead she wondered “what if there is wisdom in my next bite?” If God had been as generous as he should have been, there would be one more gift. He forgot. He left the best out.
Our preoccupation with wanting More is our capacity for relationship with an infinite God gone sideways. Of course we are wired to want More, know More, see More – because we are wired to know and love One who always is More. He is the divine More. The inexhaustible deeper and deeper still.
Her heart was made to want More.
But her head said “he won’t give it.” and “I’ve got to find it.”
More than the desire to be wise or to taste a fruit that looked delicious, there was in Eve’s inner groaning a desire to ascend the heights and plumb the depths. The very thing that made her an image bearer of God, uniquely capable of loving an infinite More.
It was simply turned sideways by a serpent and emboldened by a cold hearted misjudgement of her perfect More.
She accuses Him, in the midst of perfection, of holding out on her. Instead of plunging her desire for more into the inexhaustible and infinite, she takes an apple into her own hands and tries to exact her needs from a lifeless want.
Surrounded by the warmth of a wholehearted and generous God, I quickly wonder “what if…” What if all these groanings inside me are the way out. I’ve come to see the garden as a gated place instead of protected paradise. What if my chafing is compelling me out of here and into that forgotten greater – the thing God should have given me.
What if, despite the miraculous provision of the life around me – the every good and perfect gift that Father has lavished upon me – there is still something I kinda have to do myself. Something I need to run after, hard after. What if I have to go out and get at least some of the More myself.
This is where discontentment becomes a merciful wake up call, not a camp of shame. When I wake up running, I already know I need Him. When I get that shortness of breath that comes from striving and chasing and trying so hard, I remember – “oh right. I was made to run”, but not like this. I’m tired because I’m running after something instead of running into someone. I’m chasing my More and I’ll never catch up to it.
That’s when I stop.
In the pause, I feel infinite God arms shrink down from cosmos-holding to heart cradling. He wraps giant majesty around me like a sweater that reminds me of love-is-enough.
He is my More. And he has made my heart to hunger for Him in a way that will intrigue me for eternity (I’ll never be bored) yet content right now (he is enough). He is both/and God of infinite More and present perfect contentment.
I live in Eden of loving provision, of More. But despite its many perfections, despite having the More, my heart tempts to chase what is outside the bounds. Knowing this, I let that nagging become my reminder to live loved, to remember and to believe that his love isn’t withholding anything. My hunger is a gift that I can enjoy his More tomorrow as I did today.
My resolution for this new, fresh year? Not to chase a goal until I’m weary but to live loved believing that the More I want is in the every-ascending heights of his heart. Will I be
in the new year? I do not know. I will be loved, and I will have More. When my heart cries out for More I will seek the tree missing from the multitude because He wants to be sought and found.
Where do you see your longings “gone sideways?”