(thoughts of graduation, reflecting on the college experience with heavenly (?) discontent)
Two weeks
from the end
that
everyone keeps saying is in sight,
and I'm not
done yet.
Poured
three years into this diploma,
but I've
been thinking that it wasn't what we'd thought--
maybe
college taught us that progress is relative,
or
relatively meaningless,
that if we
could just get a grip
on the fine
art of flying
by the seat
of of our washed-out jeans,
we would
arrive,
that good
enough would be good enough...
but what if
it's not good enough?
What if our
self-satisfaction has dragged us off track?
What if our
lazy mid-week thoughts
are how we
lost the opportunity
to stretch
ourselves,
shake the
dust out of our heads
and make
them better places to live?
Maybe there
is too much giving in
and not
enough living in a moment that could grow us;
maybe we
foretold our future when we said we'd make it,
but I don't
want to "make it,"
cause my
popsicle-stick constructions don't keep anyone safe
and my
dilapidated battlements
do nothing
to patch the cracks in my self-satisfaction.
I'm not
after pats on the back
or awards
on the wall
or excuses
to stop moving,
and in a
culture of accomplishments,
of
measuring my height against imaginary averages,
I don't
want to rise above the average.
I want the
average to rise til I can't reach it.
I want
higher standards,
kingdom
answers to the question of who we're meant to be,
cause
perfect rest in God will leave us restless
when we
seek perfection anywhere else--
and he's
not done
with me.
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