On my desk sits a copy of Matthew Henry’s Commentary on the Whole Bible (Complete and Unabridged I’ll have you know). It’s not there for the reason you might think it is. My computer monitor sits on it, elevated to an agreeable height, so that I don’t spend my days hunched over the glowing screen like an administrative Gollum. The book is serving a purpose, a very useful purpose, but I suspect that it’s not what Mr Henry had in mind when he started his great venture.
A cup is made to hold liquid; a watch is made to tick; a lock is made to be opened. For some of us (Perhaps even most of us?) we are made to eat and drink and sex and die. Those are things that we do, yes, but are they what we were made for?
Perhaps we were made to discover mysteries and wonders, to shoot cars into outer space, to run breathlessly and barefoot through breaking waves, to run faster and climb higher and build taller and dig deeper?
Well, that’s more like it, but even that – wonderful as it all is – is still only part of the puzzle.
What were we made for? You know what I’m going to say, right? I’d be disappointed if, after all this time, you didn’t.
We were made to carve our way through the terrible beauty of existence as children of God, with all the excitement and trepidation of jungle explorers discovering hidden civilisations.
We were made to shine a light into every darkest corner of life, with the words ‘You are not alone’ never far from our lips and life-giving water flowing from our hearts.
We were made to have dreams that soar higher and faster than any rocket we could ever build with our own hands.
We were made to take up every gauntlet that the smiling Father throws down into our path, following the trail of breadcrumbs into something more glorious than we could imagine.
We were made to be read, not to prop up computer monitors.
Have you settled for less than that?
Why?
