I don’t remember a time in my life that I didn’t feel a great sense of intensity. Maybe some people are just born with it or maybe it’s just a matter of perception where every decision is weighed with the gravity of the universe in its balance. I have been careless, yes, but even then it was a matter of energy displacement and not absence. I have been chaos, confused and curious – sometimes all at once – but what I haven’t ever been or felt is bored.
Maybe that’s because my parents taught me that “bored” was a curse word – it wasn’t allowed in my vocabulary. Maybe it’s just a part of my brain that doesn’t compute – boredom is alien to me. I think that in it’s place is the way I may feel disgust or doubt or even horror. But the slate has never felt so unpromising or so unyielding or so complacent so as to feel bored.
Though it’s taken most of my life to turn chaos to courage, I would now recreate the same storms all over again just to be on the waves of today. I’d make the same poor choices, have the same outbursts, re-experience each heartbreak, punch the same walls, relive every nightmare and take every abuse over again. Every single time. That way I could learn again the humility of apology, the power of forgiveness and the miracle of healing.
Because against the weight of every heavy thing I’ve learned to carry is the over abundance of grace, power and mercy that somehow doesn’t just make the burden light, but entirely removes it. It shifts you from the need to be strong to the joy of being light. If I didn’t know the dark side of intensity, I don’t know that I could fully experience it the way I was designed to when everything was made right. I imagine that I would be very bored.
Whatever string is absent in me that I don’t attach to boredom, it’s just the way I was made. Only once I figured out who my Creator was did my own creation start to make real sense or did I carry any peace about it. From an outsider looking in, I perceive that people who are bored are in a tomb of waiting. Some might even call it a waiting game. Waiting for what, I don’t think they even know, but life is hardly a game – if you really believe that, you’re already dead. I’m not waiting, but what I’m actively inviting is this: that the Jesus who saved me would fulfill his final promise and be made revealed to every man, woman and child.
Everyone’s talking about revival, but what about revelation? Someday there will be a generation who is welcome and witness to the greatest unveiling of all time… why not us? How un-boring could that be?