Sparrows & Lilies - And Inconsolable Longings

"I was eight years old. My father was. . . gone. And I was confused and angry and books were an escape. I remember exactly where I was sitting in the corner of my room when I opened this big volume of poetry right to Shelley’s Mont Blanc. 'The everlasting universe of things flows through the mind and rolls its rapid waves - now dark - now glittering - now reflecting gloom.' And, I don’t know, I just, I remember being overwhelmed with beauty and sadness, all in the same moment," (Carolyn Weber, Surprised by Oxford).

The stab of inconsolable longing. We have all felt it, in different ways, at different times. A moment so fleeting, yet so memorable and soul-marking as to be remembered for the rest of our lives. We can't always put our finger on it, so don't fret if you're thinking, "I've never felt that." I won't attempt to define inconsolable longing, you can look to C. S. Lewis in "Surprised by Joy" for the best, and closest, articulation we have. In layman's terms, inconsolable simply means 'unable to be consoled', that is, comforted. To Carolyn Weber and Lewis it refers to an unsatisfied and unfulfilled longing. What makes it so elusive, though, are those fleeting moments that seem as though it was fulfilled, in the simultaneous union of beauty and sadness, if but for a second. It is that brief interval of time when our souls are overcome by the sudden realization of beauty, peace, hope, and reality that keeps us coming back for more.

As a little girl, I remember going into my bedroom, turning off all the lights save one lamp in the corner, and sitting peacefully under the golden glow of that one lamp, in quiet moments of, what did I call it? I don't even know. Perhaps the name I called it existed only in my imagination, a name I knew and felt and understood but actually had no words for. I sat in the stillness and aloneness and basked in the co-existence of beauty and sadness and everything in between. Now I look back and can only make sense of those moments as being my "stab of inconsolable longing." It probably doesn't sound that exciting to you. It probably isn't. But it did stir the deeper ebbs of thought within my heart. When reality could not have felt more real.

When Carolyn Drake arrives at Oxford, her countenance is determinedly set to pursue knowledge to the very end. We hear her make lofty conclusions, assuming to know the thoughts and intentions of a man's heart, yet always in a purely impersonal manner. Only what can be proven in the physical is true, and so she dismisses all consideration of faith. Neither believing in the existence of God nor outrightly disbelieving in Him, she wanders the halls of Oxford wrestling with the weightiness of life and meaning, stricken by inconsolable longing, a longing she would later discover to be a longing for the infinite. A question posed to her by one of her professors rise above them all, "Can she be properly ravished by the truth?"

Caro struggles to give any acute articulation to these inner feelings, yet cannot deny their reality. Perhaps she sees in the Christians around her something she wants but doesn't have. She wants it, but doesn't know quite what it is, which only adds to the confusion and frustration. She knows she is reaching, but to what, she doesn't know. The things we cannot say, cannot explain, cannot quite grasp, lie in each of us, not only because we can sense it, but because we are human. Creatures made by a Creator God, designed in His image, with "eternity written in our hearts" (Eccl. 3:11). As Kent says to Caro, "Maybe we reach for something because that thing is there."

The very restlessness of our hearts prove there is something more beyond the edges of this earth. The restlessness either leads to redemption and ultimate fulfillment of existential longing, or destruction. Do we live as though we are in Christ and Christ is in us? Does the fire of God burn and glow deep in our souls? Is it a roaring flame or a dying ember? “The highest love of God is not intellectual, it is spiritual” (Tozer), and it is only within our spirit that we may know and see God who is Himself spirit. In this knowing and in this love there is the life that separates believers from unbelievers, for those who possess Jesus are rich and those who possess Jesus possess the joy of heaven. Though the heart of man is deep, mysterious, and complicated, Jesus enters into those depths and overflows our souls.

Yet many a Christian feels, myself included, that this is not an accurate representation of their daily life in Christ. Why is that? Why does it feel so often that we are living “just outside” this magnificent experience? It is not that we are cold or that God is distant. It is a veil in our hearts casting shadows on our sight. The veil is self, it is me, my own flesh, fallen and tainted by sin, and the only way to be rid of it is to tear it out. It is to die at the cross with Jesus; “to say otherwise is to make the cross no cross and death no death at all” (Tozer). To tear away the self-life is what sets us free. Good orthodoxy is not enough, we need orthopraxy to live. The joy of Christ will outweigh all pain and make it all worth it.

The man of faith trusts in God that this world is reality. He is a sincere, honest man. And he trusts in God as Absolute Reality, upon Whom everything else is dependent. The faithful Christian lives in reality, not imagination or fantasy. We become confused when imagination and fantasy are blended with reality, when our senses (and others) would have us believe this physical world is all there is. “The visible becomes the enemy of the invisible; the temporal, of the eternal. . . at the root of the Christian life lies belief in the invisible. The object of the Christian’s faith is unseen reality” (Tozer). The spiritual is not our future reality only, it is our present reality. As we fix our gaze on God, our spiritual senses will blossom to life. He created us to know Him. It is within our hearts.

Matthew 6:25b, "Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?" Do not our stabs of inconsolable longings signify there is more to this life than what meets the eye? Our inconsolable longings point us to the Greatest Reality of all, the One who enters in to those longings, the One who can console those longings, the One who is the epitome of all we long for, the very thing we are longing for Himself. “I began to see how this longing very much characterized just about everything we searched for in life: companionship, achievement, belonging, safety, refuge, peace,” Carolyn explains. She continues, “Augustine’s famous claim then took on a very personal and relevant meaning for me: ’You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.’” This is the "secret signature of each soul" (Lewis), God's own handwriting imprints our hearts with eternal significance, and to those who trust Him, eternal life.

Either you have forgotten the title or you are still wondering, what does this all have to do with sparrows and lilies? Nothing, and everything. "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. . . will God not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious. . . your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." - Matthew 6:25-34

Inconsolable longings point us to God, the One whom we were made for. And when we come face-to-face with that reality, as Caro does, there is only one path to rest: to have faith, o ye of little faith. To trust. And what is the surest cure for the anxious heart? Trust in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. He will give you all that you need, because dear friend, He will give you Himself.

So when your heart is paralyzed by inconsolable longing. When your soul is ravished by the truth. When you are grasping for light in the darkness of this world. When none of it makes sense and you feel like a soul drifting outside of physical reality. When you can't stop the ache, or end the tears, or erase the hurt. When failed expectations collide with reality. When the cares of this world are many, consider the sparrows & lilies. They know who watches over them. They know who created them. Consider your Jesus and “turn your eyes upon Him. Look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.”