Eden Deferred

As a young lawyer, I learned quickly that I wouldn’t always win when I was in front of a judge. So I learned to think this way: "If you can’t get what you want, figure out what you can get." And that’s good advice for life, too, I think.

In almost sixty years, I never got a wife. That gives me a sense that I've missed out. I've missed the company. Friends are delighting in grandchildren; it's a joy that I don't have.

But I’ve stepped off planes in Central America to feel embraced by the sweet air. I’ve gaped at great art from Madrid to Mexico City.

I can laugh at my own thoughts. I'm happy when I behold a good, new idea.

I have good health. I’m not a champion, but I feel like a champion when I do my laps in the pool. Or I can jog for a fair amount of time, and I can drink the scenery while I sweat from jogging.

I drink hope. I’ve had despair, so I’m grateful for hope.

I have a church that I cherish. It’s small. In the eyes of the world, small is bad, big is good. Small suggests failure, big suggests success. In what seems to be defiance of the laws of space and geometry, people push to squeeze into big. But in my small church, I’m easily accommodated.

Maybe I shouldn’t say small. Intimate is a better word. Personal is a good word, too.

People there are asking the same questions that I ask, and the pastors there help me find my way to God

My life has its troubles. I have my anxious times. I have my weakness, my worries, my angers, my disappointments, my humiliations.

I have my moments when I get blunt with God: God, I need a wife! This has been an issue in my prayers. The other day I complained to God about judges who always favor the government, no matter the law or the facts. That probably refreshed God, because he was probably glad to hear me, for a change, complain about something other than not being married.

A good marriage is a good thing. A partner with like interests and inclinations can make life better. And I’m not a man who is embarrassed by need. Nor is the Bible. From Psalm 19:

     In the deep [God] set a pavilion for the sun;
        It comes forth like a bridegroom out of his chamber;
        It rejoices like a champion to run its course.
        [Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.]

Imagine what happened in the bridegroom’s chamber that gave the bridegroom such energy.

Too true.

It’s also true that not everyone has a lot of money. Not everyone finds joy in a good book. Not everyone makes friends easily. Not everybody has children and grandchildren. Not everyone bursts from the bridegroom’s chamber. All of these can be good things. None are essential.

I have reason for contentment. When I miss contentment, I have reason for hope. It’s not a hope for freedom from longing or from the discontentments and the frustrations of the world. Really, nobody escapes those.

But sometimes, on a clear day, I look up and see the loveliness and largeness and majesty of the clouds. In such a moment, I may have a sense of the high and timeless. I may have a sense that one day I may know a joy that will make trivial all former longings and discontentments and frustrations.

The journey to that joy may go through marriage. A wife is a good thing, and I’m glad for my friends and relations who have partners, and who cultivate their marriages like a new Eden.

But I may not know that Eden. And, it’s a false choice, but if I had to choose between a wife and hope, hope is better. Hope itself is reason to be glad.

I've come to this blog post after a few hours away. I feel I need to add something.

It's true that sometimes the journey to joy goes through marriage. It's also true that sometimes it goes through sorrow. I would like find it by way of marriage. I don't wish to go to it through sorrow. But I might. I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but tomorrow I will.

Some people have known deep sorrow. To them, complaining about not being married would seem shallow. I hope for such people that Jesus welcomes them on the other side of sorrow.

And I regret that I complain when my life doesn't seem happy enough. But I do.

Lord, thank you for the joy that I have had. Thank you for the blessings of my life. I pray that I may live in gratitude and hope. I pray that I may learn to crave that others may have joy, instead of craving for myself the joy I want but don't have. In Jesus's name, Amen.