A Generalization (page 2)

It's almost as if we are trained to always want more. I'm not saying this because I grew up in an upper-middle class family where I'd spend weeks prior to Christmas going through the Macy's catalogue making my multi-page list and then moving onto the next catalogue.  I already told you, I'm one who's not content with what I have.  I've never been content. And guess what, for years I've heard the story that Christmas was going to be downsized.  That came of course, after I discovered that Santa was not real. 24-years going and it's still the same massive to-do.

Okay, okay.  Tag this selfishness, this whole me making a big long giant list of all toys and whatnots that will attempt satisfying every possible childish need.  But make sure you know the definition first:

Selfish adj. 1 too much concern with one's own welfare or interests and having little or no concern for others; self-centered 2 showing or prompted by self-interest.

I have to say, this definition doesn't fit.  My discontent for my lack of relationship with the Lord is not driven by a selfish desire.  And if it is, then I'm sorry for all you pious-stuck-in-your-way-thinking-and-acting church-going-people, but I will have to then admit this selfishness to be a quality we should all possess.  

I am selfish for the Divine.  I want to find that kingdom of heaven treasure.  I want to then marvel over it.  Then realize this is the greatest discovery ever.  Then gawk at it's sparkliness.  Shininess. Like bubble machines on the sidewalk where you get so distracted from all the norm whilst trying to capture every bubble in its perfectly bubble-shaped form.  I then want to hide it back in the field because, I am of course, selfish.  I don't want anyone to come along and stumble on the same massively awe-striking treasure because, who knows, they might steal it. Then what will I wonder at?  And to make sure no one can come along at any point in the future and take what I found, I will claim that land as mine.  I will proceed to buy that land.  I will make whatever purchase necessary.  I will sell all I own if needs be.  Even my brand new car.  I will put every pay check toward buying that place where that treasure was found.

I am selfish for the Divine in such that way.  Yet I do not act as selfish as I should about Him.  Thus my discontent.

This probably sounds like so strange of a concept for you: being selfish. Going against all we've been taught since our youngin' years.  

Never once have I been told in life that I should be selfish.  In fact, it's quite the opposite.  When we are pre-schoolers and kindergarteners we are taught to share.  If we don't share then we don't get rewarded with recess.  (Such a wonderfully simple, yet amazing bribe to put out there for a little kid: "If you share then you can explore the outside world within these fence gates.")  

Our inability to share at that level results in our failing and then repeating the grade all over again. "We have to share," our teachers tell us.  

If there was something I always hoarded back then when I was three-feet short, it was the blocks.  I loved building castles.  But I was never one to trample those wooden ant fortresses.  And I'd build them as high as I could.  Balancing block on block, accomplishing the most fantastic block-balancing feats Mrs. Lynch - my first grade teacher - had ever seen.  

"Pure genius," I say looking back on those block building years.

Man's greatest structures are built when he has not been made aware of the world he lives in: the beautiful cascading by catharsis; Creation inhabited by fallen grace-given man.  They are the greatest structures because then man lives out his days creating adventures and fairy tales, imagining life in the block castle he built.  The tangible feel of the blocks and the intangible feel of childhood dreams give man hope and memories he will never forget.  The challenge comes years later after disillusion has been tenderized into man and he must then find a way of breathing life back into those dreams.