Me, a single lifetime

What does one do when they come to a point where nothing seems familiar and nothing seems right? Oh, God is there, He does not sleep, but what of the times when He is silent? What of the times when there is discontent with life and the way it is? What of our dreams, our sincere desires, our curiousity and our zest for life? What of these? Are they to be muffled down and left out of sight and remembered only in our prayers that God would realise these dreams of ours one day? Are they a sign that we are not strong enough in faith to be content merely with Christ?

But where is ministry in the colour of leaves? Where is salvation in a mountain breeze? Where is sin in the Northern Lights, or Victoria Falls, or the vast stretches of ocean at night?

We are told that God is Beautiful, and perhaps we believe it, or rationalise to ourselves that we do. But why is there a guilt in pursuing the beauty of His creation, instead of devoting all goals to bringing souls to Him? Why must there be that choice? Why must we give up selfishness and the chasing after of our own desires--desires to see beauty, not to harm, desires which are good, and yet are not the very best. Is this but the complaint of a couch potato who cannot comprehend an Olympic Runner?

The truth is, I don't know what to do with my life. And I'm afraid to sit and moulder and wait for God to poke me in the right way. Restless restless restless as the breeze, with feet so itchy I wonder where the sensation stops and my foot begins.

I want to see the world! I want to be a million different people and things, and live a million different lifetimes.

Why the one, God?