This may seem an entirely innocuous question. But I ask it in earnest. What do you want from God? On the level of the trite, we may want more of what we already have, but have it in abundance. We may want less of what we have, only have it in a healthy manner (relationships come to mind).
What is more difficult, for the heart, and for the spiritual life in general is to say: “I want God, and more of Him.” This is the statement of someone who has tasted of the heavenly gift and cannot be satisfied with less. It is rare.
Though it is rare, it is the common confession of the saints.
What do you want? Is there some degree to which you want God? With what degree of desire do you approach the Holy Cup? Do you want God?
Do I want God even though it may kill me?
Do I want God even though the “me” that I am may be swallowed up in something larger?
Do I want God even though it may cause me deep and life-long grief?
There are many of things we may want from God – but it is God Himself our heart desires. And though the cost of that may appear to be everything – as it should be – do we want anything less? Anything less is to dwell outside of the Kingdom.
What do you want from God?
One response, posted on another site, seemed worth adding to the text of this posting:
What struck me most about this is those “negative” things will happen whether we seek God or not. We will have deep and life-long grief in our lives, Christian or non-Christian, weak or strong. Grief will come. The “me that I am” will be swallowed up in something larger, whether it is torment or blessing. We will die, whether we seek God or flee Him.
Christianity does not keep us from suffering. Sometimes we suffer more. But it is certain that Christianity will not keep disease and death at bay. Even with the miraculous recovery, the holy healing that could come, the grave awaits eventually.
No, we cannot escape these things, and so we should not fear asking God for Himself, seeking the Kingdom and His Righteousness. For in this we gain everything, even while we lose the present.
By Christopher Hall at The Other Side of the Pulpit