rekindling the flame? - or - roasting perfect marshmallows over glowing embers

Warning: LONG post.

I learned something today, something about the difference between some things, and it's got me thinking about which is more important.

For the past few months, I haven't exactly felt excited -- about anything. I'm trying to mark this as temperance and perhaps even emotional maturity, all the while fearing that the inevitable has finally happened (and at such an early age, too). I've finally become a jaded adult. I'm not young and full of energy, I'm not chomping at the bit to save all humankind from evil and injustice. I'm not even bursting with joy over my new-found freedoms in the land of opportunity. I just live my life every day and try not to screw anything up, which usually isn't a complete success or a complete failure, either. I guess that's normal.

What happened to the just-two-years-ago me? What happened to "Everybody come! Let's make a difference in the world! Let's hold hands and sing the latest Hillsongs album around a campfire!" That person is utterly and completely gone. Checked out. What happened?! I was so excited! Why don't I feel like small animals are jumping around behind my abs anymore? Have I lost my spirituality? In a recent [heretical] sermon I was even warned about the danger of having the Holy Spirit "depart from me." Oh dear! Is that the problem? Did it leak out of my ear?


I think not.

I'm not sure about the Scripturality (neologism there) of what I'm about to say, or even how realistic it is, but I'm going to say it anyway. I think what I have here is a good, solid marriage.

Mind you, I've never been married before, but the vast majority of the people I know have been. I'm going on observation to say that at some point you stop being excited about the marriage act itself and start to just be married. There's an excitement with getting married and all that entails. You have all these new experiences to explore together, not to mention getting used to the strange fact that your one self is now two selves who are in fact supposed to be one new self. People give you stuff. It has to be overwhelming, terrifying, and exciting. But once you get past all that fuzzy stuff, you're still married to each other. You've learned how to live in the house together and people aren't sending gift cards anymore, and the marriage comes down to much simpler things. Things like who's going to wash the dishes, who's going to pick up the kids, when there's going to be time for a conversation, and what to talk about... It's not so much an event anymore, it is a fact. It's a part of your life that requires effort and sacrifice, but it's not something you plan on getting rid of. People talk like that's a bad place to be, and write books about how to fix it. Maybe I'm wrong -- I wouldn't know because I've never been there -- but I can't imagine it's completely horrible if you're there with the one you love.

Like I said, I think that's where I am now. I have this Husband Who is my Maker, and He's not quite as exciting and new as He used to be ten years ago when I met Him. He's every bit as wonderful, but in much less exhilarating ways. I still like Hillsongs and campfires just minutes before curfew, but not as much as 9:00 on a Tuesday night with the book of Psalms and the guitar I can barely play. I still want to talk about Him and hear what He's doing in your life, but I might not cry about it anymore. I still need 25 quiet moments alone with Him over coffee before I can speak to anyone else with a kind voice.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I think perhaps as a culture we place far too much emphasis on the visible level of passion a person displays. We value far too little the depth of character it requires to approach very ordinary or occasionally painful situations with integrity.

And this finally brings me to my question: Which is more important, passion or integrity?

Would you like to be married to someone who was constantly gushing over your beauty and wanted to spend every minute of every day talking about how much you love each other? That sounds exhausting, at least to me. What makes us think our relationship with God should be that way? I don't want to spend the rest of my life "in love" with Jesus; I just want to love Him. I want to display that love in my actions -- doing things I'd rather not do, and admitting I'd rather not do them, but obeying Him because it's right.

News Flash: Obedience is not always a passionate affair. Most of the time it doesn't feel good at all unless He sees fit to give us some kind of immediate reward, which isn't all that often. But He did say that we love Him if we keep His commands, did He not? He didn't ask us for crying (sometimes it happens), or for over-caffeinated late-night jam sessions. That was fun for awhile, but I'm old and have a bedtime, which I am at this moment violating with yawns and stretches. I obey because I love Him, not because it gives me an adrenaline rush (sometimes it does) or makes my heart beat faster. Sometimes we need that passion to get us to make initial decisions, like falling head over heels for someone and getting married. But living with those decisions is a different ballgame. They become facts that we recognize and arrange our lives around, even when we don't feel like it, because at some point we made a passionate decision that has now settled into character. It's like what Dr. B said one time, "By saying yes to one thing, you say no to 1,000 others."

Tonight I realized that I would probably have a lot more friends here if I went to more social events on campus. The problem is that they usually happen during times when I'm at church. Sometimes I don't want to be there, and I KNOW out of 2,000+ students there HAVE to be some single men on this campus, but I usually choose church. It's not that I believe church attendance is the single mark of spiritual commitment, but this is the specific group of believers where I believe God wants me. It's my act of obedience, and although I feel no passion for it, it is satisfying because I'm there with the One I love.

It's nothing to write songs about, but it's real and I'll take it.