Cushy always make me think of a nicely stuffed chair and ottoman for me to rest. The perfect place for me to make my way through the mundane world. "It's a blood bath out there," we say as we watch the news at 10. We think, "what an awful place to call home," when we see homeless men in the downtown ghettos of our communities. We think, "maybe we should help those unruly kids with pink hair." We make our judgements while look down from our city on a hill. We sit back in our cushy chair and think of all the reasons we shouldn't do something, not even letting that still small voice inside guide us to a place where we can really be used. We've gotten our hands dirty until the camera lens pans the other direction.
I have heard more than one person say, if you are in the very center of God's will, it's not a safe place. That statement stuck to me like a tick sucking the life out of me, while I told myself that God's will is a safe place. It just isn't, it's not safe. There are million of variables and trillions of could've, should've, would'ves. The truth is, if you look in the Bible, everyone was in the middle of strife while on the middle of God's will. All the disciples died really horrible deaths while dong what they were created to do. I'm not saying that everyone must die for their faith in order to be called uncushy. If it's truly not safe then I'm sure it's called uncushy. I think of my sister's in-laws. They are missionaries in Nicaragua. They are right where they need to be, and yet they are so near danger.
I like the way uncushy has felt on me. Yeah I'm not perfect, and that's okay. That feels good to say that. It feels good to know that while saying that, I have a friends that love me despite me. My intentions are ever to move to a place where truth and love intersect. That intersection is the place I want to dig a well and drink the water. The kool-aid is getting old and stale, and it's not even about me.
vaya con Dios -- really