Passion for something more: it is the strong magnet that pulls the human spirit out of the habitual and mundane into the realm of the unsafe and unknown. It is the fuel of valor and discovery. It is for want of passion that the world is dying. It is the murder of this longing for the heights that strips the roots of hope from the seedlings of promise, leaving children passive or frantic, adolescents “leaden eyed” and adults accepting of the status quo of mediocrity.
But somewhere buried in the soul of us all is the deep knowing that there is more—that freedom and joy and peace and forgiveness and grace and mercy are more than platitudes of the pious. Somewhere in our ground of being we know that these, yes, these are the rock-solid foundations of real life—not the fantasies of fiction.
When dissatisfaction with persecution or just pointless routine reaches the lip of our container of tolerance and breaches the limits of our endurance, the longing for raw and pure life breaks the dam, and we are driven out and empowered by the gushing currant to cut a new path.
Thus, we come at some juncture of our circumstances, to become pilgrims, leaving what once imprisoned our souls and held us back, and, at the same time, becoming wise enough to follow the star of better aspirations. We dare to bite off eternity. We are driven by a pioneering of the spirit to follow God himself into the frightening unknown, for, as Aslan said, this One who calls us is not safe, but he is kind.
This is the seeker’s season, the season to trade the lesser things for more. It is the season for turning flat-bed trailers into covered wagons and striking out for a territory yet unclaimed. It is the season for setting sail in spite of possible rough seas for a place where prayers are released, not legislated, and where children can dance in the promise land of creative work and opportunity.
This is the season for studying the heavens and hanging our hopes on a star—not just any star but the star that announces One who came to tear down partitions between the dream and the reality, between here and there, between now and forever, between mortality and eternity.
Will we dare? Will we take the risk of losing the transient to win the lasting? Will we risk dying to be reborn? Will we cut anchors for the open sea, or set off across the desert in pursuit of the new star? Will someone ever read about us in the journals of Pilgrims and Wise Men?