Learning to Live in Tension

As it is commonly known, people crave security. People ache for comfort, stability and control. I, in particular, have felt this ache overtaking my life in recent weeks – so it’s lead me into one of my intensely “profound” thought cycles.

Humans, and I think maybe women more than men, are desperate for security. We seek it sometimes as scavengers – needing to feel that life will turn out our way: I will live until I’m 90, I will have a perfect marriage and three healthy girls, and I will have a house in the suburbs with an income that allows for all of life’s finest comforts.

But the more you think about – you realize that no matter where you live, who you marry, or how healthy you may currently be, security is an illusion. Maybe that’s why people in third world countries often seem so joyful despite their circumstances; because they understand that stability is a lie, and have learned to live with joy in the moment.

As Americans, however, the delusions of security are all around us; the sturdy house in the suburbs, the promises of a happy ending in our movies. We have come to believe in its reality, though even in America it is a mirage in the desert. And maybe that’s why we are so anxious – well I am so anxious anyway, because we refuse to acknowledge life’s uncertainty and cannot teach ourselves to live in peace amongst its tension.

We often look to God to give us security – thinking that in him, we will have the earthly security we need. I think we are wrong again. Nowhere does God promise us earthly security. What God promises is peace in the tension and insecurity of this world, and that what’s best for us in the end will somehow prevail. So often I demand of God: “Give it to me black or white God,” I say “I need a clear cut answer now or otherwise I will flip out.” More often than not – I find myself flipping out, because I feel God leaves things gray.

As I look back on past and current situations that have caused me mountains of anxiety – I ponder on the questions I demanded of God, and the confusion his seemingly misdirected answers left me. And I’m beginning to realize God doesn’t give us answers that necessarily lead us to a solid conclusion. I feel that God looks at our lives as processes, processes that may not lead us to determined endings, but do lead to us knowing him more. Only when we acknowledge life as this way, an insecure, unstable journey, can we really rest. Because it’s there we learn to live in full surrender to God, and in this, we are filled with peace amongst the tension.