Lately, I have been wrestling with the deep, ontological weight of contentment. I am interrogating the sacred necessity of the pause and the quiet rebellion of living in the moment. For many within the Black Diaspora, we are born into a narrative of perpetual becoming. We are initiated into a culture that demands we treat our current existence as a mere down payment for a future that is forever on the horizon. From our earliest memories, we were taught that our "now" was only valuable if it was preparing us for a "next." We were told to excel in the primary years to secure the secondary honors, to navigate the undergraduate journey to fund the graduate dream, and to perform with a superhuman precision to justify our professional seat.
We have inherited a survivalist theology that views today as a problem to be solved rather than a sanctuary to be inhabited. This constant, frantic chasing of tomorrow is the ultimate thief of joy. It is a psychological exile where we are never permitted to arrive. We find ourselves rendering deliverables and meeting expectations while bypassing the very life God has breathed into our lungs. We reserve our praise for Friday because it signals a temporary reprieve from the grind, yet we fail to realize that not every weekend is a promised land. To put respect on Monday is to acknowledge that God is the I AM, not the "I Will Be."
Thank you for reading. If this excerpt resonated with you, I invite you to join my Substack community. There, I share my thoughts, my heart for God, and regular insights on leadership, technology, accessibility, community service, and causes I'm passionate about. Click the link below to become part of this growing community of friends!
No comments:
Post a Comment