In the past few months, I have really resonated with the idea that there is a fullness to time that wraps around the decisions and moments of our lives, swirling purposefully of its own accord. Call it religion, God, fate, providence, the moral arc of the universe, or, perhaps, really fortunate chance; what I cannot get around is that, in my own personal journey, things have come to fruition in ways I know I could not have made happen of my own accord.
For example, for the past four years, I have dreamt of creating a certain kind of school, one that embraces wisdom and virtue as its curricular vision rather than test scores and standards (something I have blogged about in previous posts). It is something that I believe in my heart of hearts is not only possible, but necessary. I have worked with several key people to try and get something off the ground (even going so far as to try and start a nonprofit as a shelter for funding), to no avail. I had all but given up that I could be the one to make it happen, when, into that very space of resignation, the fullness of time took over.
In the past six months, through no real striving of my own, I have had the great honor to come into circles of folk who not only believe in a similar vision of education, but are, themselves, working to see it happen! I have been introduced to groups with the means and resources to make it happen in ways I never could have imagined! I have also come into contact with schools who desire to see such a vision lived out in their curriculum and groups working diligently to see shalom come to schooling for refugees, the marginalized and the vulnerable. A year ago, I was frustrated that this vision had no traction; today, I marvel at the ways in which this vision is taking shape.
What I have gained personally throughout this experience has granted me better vision, perspective, experience and the personal growth necessary to meet the task as it now appears. I have learned, by coming to trust in the fullness of time, patience, grace, humility, forgiveness, and, above all, hope. I have begun to orient my life around a compass of key ideas (intentionality, sacrifice, transparency and transcendence) rather than racing to answer the frenetic pace of the clock (with its deadlines, urgency, impatience and anxiety).
One of my favorite songs is “Home,” by Rich Mullins, primarily for these lines:What I’d have settled for, You’ve blown so far away. What You brought me to I thought I could not reach. I came so close to giving up, But You never did give up on me.
Only in the fullness of time could I have come to the place where I am now. Only in that great, rich sweep of quiet, tedious work below the waterline, could I be standing now at places I once thought impossible to reach.
One of my favorite students sent me this quote from Victor Hugo:
“Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones…. And when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.”
Somewhere, deep in the Mystery, the fullness of time is at work, shouting down across the ages, “Behold, I am making all things new!”
So may you, in the midst of trials, prognoses, frustrations, anxieties, heartache and loss, come to trust, as I have, that in the fullness of time, God is, indeed, ever awake.