This year I want to read Frederick Buechner. I keep coming across references to him. In Radix magazine, a quote from his book Wishful Thinking: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”
Deep gladness: “I believe God made me for a purpose,” Olympic gold medalist/missionary to China Eric Liddell wrote, “but He also made me fast. When I run I feel His pleasure.”
“When I think of God my heart is so full of joy that the notes leap and dance as they leave my pen.” Franz Josef Haydn.
Deep gladness comes from being who I am, the unique one He designed me to be. His pleasure and my joy. They are meant to merge.
The world’s deep hunger: I look inside myself and see it. The longing. The waiting. One day a Man awakened something in me and I knew it was what I had been waiting for all my life. Everything came together. This was what I had been born for. This was what made me whole.
I keep losing touch with that song, that reality. I lose it in causes, preoccupation with death in all forms, first through nuclear holocaust (because I grew up in Hiroshima), then through earthquake (because I live in California), then through one of a myriad of lesser or more personal dismal outcomes.
I must break free of them all, return to my heart, where He is waiting. Writing is there, I can’t escape it, don’t want to. Poetry, maybe?
“A stirring,” I wrote in my journal yesterday. “I want to read deep, passionate, thought-provoking authors in the new year. I want to read poetry. I want to write poetry. I want to host a by-invitation-only class deconstructing great poems–or at least poems which move me. I want to have a poem published in Radix. I want to read more authors who influenced the Inklings. I want to go deeper aesthetically, spiritually, intellectually. I want a female friend who shares my love for (genuine) poetry.”
Or maybe, lest I be disappointed by too great an ambition, I’ll content myself this coming year with just learning how to pronounce Buechner’s name.