In previous notes I have explored the idea of desire and how different propositions of life navigate this inherent aspect of being human. Here is a summary:
Desire is a motivating energy that drives action toward a particular outcome. To desire something is to want it to come about for you.
Desire is related to the part of the person we call the will. The human will is the seat of our desires. The will is the part of the person that energizes action. To will a particular outcome is to consciously direct your energies toward – or sometimes feel directed towards – that outcome.
Some propositions of life see desires in a negative light. To want is in a way fundamentally wrong, selfish, self-centered, and the cause of much of the destruction in the world. These same propositions work towards the elimination of desire in the person.
Other propositions of life see desires as the natural makeup of the human. Our desires are the things we should aim to fulfill. They are the most authentic expression of the self and so denial of desire is a denial of the self. These propositions aim to provide tools to the person for the fulfillment of their desires.
Whether inherently good, inherently evil, or something else, how we think about our desires is foundational to our lives.
My Journey
I’ve had my own journey through a few different propositions and am writing this week to share that journey. Maybe some of it will resonate.
In the Bible there are a few chunks of text that seem to be over-arching, almost summary texts, of the proposition of life that is being presented. They answer the question, “What is life in the Kingdom of God really like?” The portion commonly referred to as the Sermon on the Mount in the book of Matthew is one of them. The 23rd Psalm is another one.
The first line of the 23rd Psalm seems to address the issue of want when it says,
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
I’ve known and carried this line with me for a long time. When I first began to work through what it meant, I always took the first half of the line for granted. I considered myself a follower of The LORD in question, so, no need to dig further. It was the idea of not wanting that caught my attention.
Pursuing a life in the performing arts is filled with potential wants. There is want for the next gig, the next paycheck, the love of the audience, the critic’s favor, and the respect of your fellow performers, for example. You might have heard some performers deal with these wants in various ways by saying, “I’m an artist, I don’t care what the audience thinks,” or “I don’t read what the critics say about my work.”
When I first encountered these wants – and they were intense for me – I went to the 23rd Psalm for guidance. As I read it, I thought it was saying something like, “I should be okay if I don’t get the things I want.” So, I tried to take my failures, my lack of achievement, with some kind of “keep calm and carry on” attitude. I often would not give myself space to fully express the depth of the desire nor the pain of the failure in question. After all, I should be okay even if I don’t get what I want, right?
You can imagine what I looked like after years of this. There was so much that I had glossed over and didn’t really work through, I finally gave in to a different interpretation. If I couldn’t get what I wanted – it wasn’t happening after all – maybe I should eliminate want altogether. I didn’t think there was anything particularly immoral in wanting a successful career or a family for example, but I was at a loss. I was done trying to express any personal wants, thinking that they simply lead to the pain of failure. I didn’t want to want anymore. I found justification in the 23rd Psalm – the older version hits more forcefully saying, “Thou shalt not want.”
Okay, great, I won’t want. Oh, but I did, and had wants. I had preferences, and desires, both in the short and long term. I had cultivated the muscle of specifically discerning and expressing wants in my craft as a choreographer and director. I didn’t understand how a life could work if I didn’t put effort towards the things that were set upon my heart. I hoped for particular outcomes. If I didn’t at least express my personal desires, I would inevitably succumb to the wills of those around me. I learned that, too, through experience, and I didn’t want that.
There was someone I was willing to succumb to – God. And so for a few years I could be found saying, “I only want what God wants.” In every situation, in every aspect of my life, especially the hard ones, I gave up my own will to the attempt to discern God’s in the moment. If pushed I would say something like, “I don’t want anything. I just want what God wants.”
This was okay, and seemed to work for a while. It was like stepping back and resting my wanter for a moment. Life felt a little lighter. I didn’t feel burdened by my own desires or trying to bring them to life. But there was something missing. The engagement of my own will was missing. My will was directed in the right direction, but not specific. This was good, but incomplete. For every opportunity to engage my will, I would say, “I don’t know, let’s see what happens.” I abdicated my responsibility. I needed specificity. After all, it is in the small things, the particulars, that an idea actually takes shape.
My Discovery
The reconciliation came when I learned two things. First, I couldn’t take the first half of Psalm 23 for granted. The relational nature of the proposition is key to the entire thing. Second, that a clearer meaning of the second half of the line in the Psalm had to do with the connection between want and lack.
I should not want, turns into I will not be found wanting, turns into I will not experience want, turns into I will not experience lack. Without lack, I will have no reason to want. How can this happen? It happens in the context of my relationship with The LORD. The context is my life being shepherded by The LORD.
Are there other options? Of course there are. My life could be shepherded by whatever desires I have. My life could be shepherded by the things that I want to get out of this life. Of course, every life is in some ways shepherded by these things.
However, a life shepherded solely by individual desire has the potential to be hurtful because of its self-centered focus. Imagine someone bent on loving you, without any consideration for your person in the matter. Love? Good. No consideration for you? Not good.
In contrast, a life shepherded by another life is fundamentally relational. It says that the relationship is what matters first. Activities and outcomes are secondary to what is happening between the people in the relationship. Given that I am a person who is sensitive to their own desires living in a world that often requires particular activities and outcomes this is a massive paradigm shift. What kind of relationship can set the tone for this shift?
The relationship must be based on an expectation of fulfillment. I am being led by someone for whom my person, my life, and who I become is more important than any single activity or outcome. In being led by such a person I can expect to live a life in which I do not experience lack. The activities and outcomes reconcile themselves to the vision of my life in the eyes of the person shepherding me – not my own.
In this context the trust I have of the shepherd is key. In the context of high trust, it will be easy for me to entrust the desires that I sense active in my will to the shepherd. I entrust the process to a person that I trust – not a set of rules, values, or principles.
Who is this shepherd that I feel so comfortable entrusting my life to? Are they the kind of shepherd that leaves their sheep for wolves? Are they the kind of shepherd that doesn’t know how to care for their sheep? Or are they the kind of shepherd that protects and guides, whose voice is clear to me, and who is good and trustworthy?
Our conception of these things will dramatically alter the shape of our lives. A fulfilling life is not about denying our own desires or achieving them. Rather, it is reconciling them to the process of formation in the context of relationship. It is setting who you become above any particular desire, and the person guiding you above yourself. Whether to want or not to want isn’t actually the question. It is, rather, who can you entrust your wants to?
Share this post