Veiled Compassion

It’s not from me; it uses me.

It’s hard to apply the compassion of my heart to people I’ve never met. What I can do is hold that compassion out there where others can see it. I already know by experience that most folks will recognize it on some level, but what they make of it varies. Precious few will actually have some grasp of its nature and celebrate with me.

I won’t claim to actually understand it.

There’s a huge question hanging in my mind right now. In the past, I knew that talents and skills were just tools to surrender to that compassion. Sure, I found entertainment in learning about computers; it scratched an itch. And I knew that my ability to fix them was a gift God could give to others. So I continued with an enthusiastic exploration of things I could figure out and keep helping folks in little ways.

And I suppose I wasn’t really too shocked when my enthusiasm for all of that died. I didn’t just toss away the knowledge and skills, whatever passes for expertise, but it has become work. I don’t mind doing work, but I certainly don’t mind when some chores take care of themselves. Fixing computers doesn’t bring a sense of peace and contentment. It’s a valuable tool, but realistic or not, I long for a time when, either they didn’t pollute our world so much, or we simply didn’t need them to carry out the gospel mission. I’ll keep using them until that day comes.

What I don’t understand is the bicycle and photography thing. Fun, yes, but there’s more. There’s a powerful moral purpose at work here, an action of compassion, but for once I don’t see how they bless others. At least, I don’t see how the harvest of blessings matches the depth of drive in me. Sure, the chatter about riding and exploring is a good thing, and the pictures of stuff you won’t normally see is entertaining. But for the life of me, I can’t yet see why I felt it was so morally necessary that I ride through West Elm Creek Valley Monday and take just a few pictures. (Actually I took more than I posted, but not all of them were worth sharing.) Sure, I learned something I didn’t know — the second lake is already on the way — but I can’t see how that is such a big deal. My conscious mind still doesn’t see why it was so important, only that it was important. It was like a sacred time in itself and I simply cannot see through that veil.

Curiosity and my sense of wanderlust don’t explain it. Were it merely my personal inclinations, I’d be out riding in far distant areas with more popular scenery. Today I have a divine appointment to ride to another area just a few miles away that I’ve not seen, and again it’s important that I take a few pictures. I’m not documenting anything, or I’d sense a need for far more images. One or two good shots and I know I’m done. But for some reason, the mere act of sharing them on the other blog doesn’t seem the end of the matter.

My theory for now is that I’m doing this in preparation for something that, if I knew what it was too soon, the knowledge would ruin things. Meanwhile, I’m puzzled how something that looks and feels like a retiree’s hobby can have such a powerful moral drive behind it. It’s a mission from God wrapped in a veil. Compassion says I must keep at it.

Yeah, I pray for a better camera, but a larger burden on my heart is the need to hear from God what really matters in all of this. If not some kind of “why” explanation, I would at least need the assurance that comes from obeying, and the assurance that I know I am obeying. Somebody will get a blessing from this, and I need to make sure it’s as lavish as I can make it for the glory of our Creator.