One of the most popular books in spirituality at the end of the late 1990s was Holy Longing by Ron Rolheiser, OMI. In it he admits, “It is no easy task to walk this earth and find peace; we are forever restless, dissatisfied, frustrated and aching. Desire is always stronger than satisfaction. This desire lies at the centre of our soul.”
Desire or longing is misunderstood in our society. Or rather, it is not understood except in a romantic context. We tend to desire instant satisfaction: “Thirty minutes or free!” says one commercial. No lines, no waiting, no unsatisfaction—no longing! As if!
For those familiar with the Enneagram, I identify with the 4 energy and longing is no stranger to me. Keenly aware of what’s missing in most situations, I inherently experience longing. Funnily, this makes me a very good editor and, in a way, interior decorator. But it robs me of some of the joy of being in the present moment. It is an art and grace to live with the desire for what deeply counts and can never be filled in this life and, at the same time, be present to the present.
We would rather bury and ignore our longings if they can’t be met instantly or soon. C.S. Lewis says in The Weight of Glory that “our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we feel cut off… is no neurotic fantasy but the truest index of our situation.”
I am reminded of St. Augustine’s famous line in his Confessions: “You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” Even scientists are suspecting that we are hard-wired for God, that is, we are created with a desire for the Transcendent.
We are seekers, all of us. This quality is required of a person who knocks on a monastery door to join. Benedict cautions the monastic leaders to consider “does she truly seek God?” I was led to the monastery partly as a result of a nighttime dream in which, in the midst of a group of friends, dancing, I was approached by Jesus’ mother who brought me to an altar. Frightened but trusting, I said “yes.” I said “yes,” knowing and not knowing at the same time that a relationship with God in Jesus Christ is an answer to all longing.
Of course, this seeking of God and the fullness of life Jesus promised is a life-long adventure. It didn’t end for me at the monastery entrance. We are meant to seek God mostly in “ordinary time” — daily family life, work, health concerns, caring for family members, and meeting with friends. God is found in great moments, too, but most of the time he is found in ordinary ones, if we’re open. For me, seeking God takes many forms. It is sitting in silence at the beginning of the day, watching his creation in nature. It is seeing Christ in the person asking for change or some food. It is in my own feelings and experience. These are the simple and accessible places for seeking God daily.
Jessica Powers, a Carmelite poet of the 20th century in her poem The Kingdom of God, states:
“not toward the stars,
not on the hills of the moon,
not under the lighted leaves,
not on a pillow of breast….
Here is the sacred guest.
There is a Tenant here.
Come home, roamer of earth, to this room
and find a timeless Heart under your own heart beating.”
It is not in our effort alone that we seek and find God. God is seeking us; our own longing and seeking is a response to God’s. As St. John of the Cross says, “God seeks us more than we seek God.” We witness this time and time again in Sacred Scripture: “come to me, all you who labour… how I have longed to gather you… behold I stand at the door and knock.”
God’s nature is love and in love God seeks us out; we are the lost coin, sheep, son or daughter. God is the joyful woman who finds her coin and calls for a celebration, the good shepherd who finds the lost one and carries the sheep on his shoulders, and the loving parent who welcomes us home with open arms.
