Awake, my sons; put on the armor of righteousness. Shake off the chains with which ye are bound, and come forth out of obscurity, and arise from the dust.
All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.

COMMENTARY

Come forth out of obscurity, and arise from the dust
All are of the dust, and all turn to dust again
Yesterday I mentioned the desire to rise above mediocrity and live the epic life, a life of great purpose. And today’s first verse captures this notion perfectly. But notice how it is at odds with the second verse I shared, which avows the temporary nature of our mortal life.
These two verses highlight the disparity between our body and our spirit. Though we are from the dust, and destined to return to the dust at the conclusion of our lives, we hope to be able to lift ourselves from it, to emanate a spirit that is more eternal than the stuff that surrounds us.
And clearly this hope for a life that transcends the ordinary is not an evil desire. At the heart of it is the recognition that we are children of an immortal God. This desire for greatness is our own immortal soul testifying of itself, rejecting the more transient things, and calling for the eternities that are its birthright.

I’m a romantic. I constantly daydream. I am always caught up in fantasies. I see old allegories and fairy tales being played out in everyday reality. I believe in old adages like “true love conquers all” and “good always triumphs over evil.” I write stories as my way of journaling.

And given the prevalence of story in my life, I’ve always wanted to live a great one. I know that I’m not unique in this. We romantics balk at the label of “puppy love,” and insist our teenage romance is the greatest love story since Romeo and Juliet. We view our petty squabble with our coworker as the heart-wrenching betrayal of Fernand Mondego. We view our purpose in life as world-shaking as Frodo leaving the Shire to destroy the one ring.

We magnify the emotions of each small moment to fill the entire heart. In a word, we exaggerate.

And, if you are like me, you also have another part of you that tries to shake the dreamer back to wakefulness. The part that says “you’re vain and unrealistic! Start living life as it actually is. A lot of it is just going to be plain and mundane and that’s okay.”

I’ve had some time to reflect on these two parts, and in the end I believe the truth lays at the intersection of these two voices.

On the one hand, it is self-deceitful to try and make every humdrum moment into something epic. It’s alright to admit that some days, even many days, are just “ordinary days.” Otherwise we can become obsessed in things that really don’t matter, get an emotional tunnel vision, and pursue mediocrity to the expense of actual greatness.

On the other hand, having accepted that the life the world has given us is not epic, we should pursue another life that truly is. There is no need to surrender our desire for a role in a story that is rich and full and really matters. Only by calling out the elements of our life that are lackluster can we start to replace them with elements that have genuine spark. And as I will explore in the rest of this study, that genuinely epic life is the one that God offers to us. All other narratives are a forgery.