by Mark Peters
Sometimes I dream of escape. A few weeks ago I received a promotional email from Flight Centre; for less than $500 I could be on my way to Europe. Usually this type of email goes straight to junk mail, but I couldn’t force myself to press ‘delete.’ I began to dream about escape, about adventure, about a change in scenery. I sat there, staring at my computer screen, trying to come up with one rational reason to purchase a ticket. I couldn’t come up with one. So here I am, still west of the Atlantic, still staring at a computer screen.
Usually, when I begin to dream about escape, it’s a sure sign that I’m ripe for a vacation. But I’m not sure that a holiday will do the trick this time. Every so often I become aware of an internal undercurrent, a longing for “more,” for something “deeper,” something substantial. When our life circumstances are challenging, painful, or broken, this longing for “more” is easy to explain. But how does one explain this dissatisfaction or the longing for “more” when things are going well at home, at work, and in life?
C.S. Lewis writes, “The longings which arise in us when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no travel, no learning, can satisfy.” Sometimes the urge to escape is tied to a need for rest. At other times, the urge to escape is little more than an attempt to mask our longings for the “more” and “deeper.”
Senseless internet surfing. Compulsive eating. Endless movie watching. A new relationship. Shopping. A new car, or hobby, or gadget. Addictive substances. All can be subtle, or not-so-subtle, forms of escape. We can fill our time with things or activities that leave little room to feel our longing for the “more”. But it never quite goes away; in the quiet moments, it’s right there with us.
Lewis suggests that there are three possible responses: the response of the fool, the Grinch, and the Christian. The fool misunderstands the longings and puts the blame squarely on the things themselves. A better spouse, a better car, a better holiday would make the longings disappear. The Grinch has given up on finding satisfaction for these deeper longings; such dreams belong to the young, the foolish, the idealistic. The Christian, however, sees things quite differently.
The Christian understands that these deeper longings, the desire for “more,” is both a sign and a witness to the One who has made us. Our longings are echoes of eternity; whispers that point to our Maker. Lewis writes, “Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists.”
When we find within ourselves, a desire that will not be satisfied through natural means, we are left to conclude that our satisfaction must lie beyond the natural. The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that eternity has been set in our hearts: we’ve been made to hunger for that which is beyond us, that which can only be found in the Maker of all desire.
I’m still looking forward to my holiday, but I’m well aware that my longings aren’t going away any time soon. God alone can satisfy, and I’m learning to look to Him instead looking for the next email from Flight Centre.
Grace to you, and Peace,
Mark