Needs, Desires, and Pain: Keys to Being Fully Alive?

"The fact is, at this point in our journey, we have only three options: (1) to be alive and thirsty, (2) to be dead, or (3) to be addicted. There are no other choices. Most of the world lives in addiction; most of the church has chosen deadness."
~John Eldredge, The Journey of Desire

"Life is a journey of the heart that requires the mind--not the other way around."
~Eldredge, The Journey of Desire


I think I have mentioned before on here that when I first read John Eldredge--I picked up Wild at Heart in college--it struck me as a big youth group cliche. The man as warrior and all that rah rah stuff. I wasn't sure what being the main character of Braveheart had to do with Jesus's Gospel of peace. I should also admit that part of me wants to be dismissive of Eldredge's connections to Focus on the Family, a politically-charged organization often associated with the Christian right. (I'll confess here that most of my perception comes from their reputation--which is probably largely driven by the media--than it is from any sort of personal experience I've had with the organization.)

But that is all the heady part of me speaking. I have read several of his other books since college, the topics spanning from gender and sexuality to the outdoors and interacting with God the Creator. I recently read his The Journey of Desire, and am beginning to see him in a different way. It may be his most important work, and it seems that Eldredge's macro, holistic theme is that of living "fully alive," a state we witness in so few of the people around us (myself definitely included!).

Out of Eldredge's work, the curriculum of Men's Fraternity, some one-on-one work with a mentor, and my current relationship with a woman, I am coming to see that becoming fully alive requires us to be in touch with how we feel, that is to say our needs, our desires, and our pain. And as we become aware of those things within ourselves, we become more aware of them in others, which allows to empathize and press on "further and deeper in" to intimacy. This is not a cheap formula for relating well to people; it is only an invitation to enter in. Our differing needs, desires, and wounds often clash, leading to the inevitable pain that comes with intimacy, which is why withdrawing seems so compelling to us, once again as a protective instinct.

I must confess that I am light years away from living any of this out well in my own life. My instinct is still to withdraw when things get hard relationally, and answering the question How are you? is extremely difficult because if I'm really answer, the answer most of the time is, "I don't know." Mostly, I just identify with the U2 song: "I feel numb / I feel numb / Give me some more."

This numbness is common--it's a response to our pain, of course--but no less devestating to human experience. If we cut off pain, we probably eliminate the possibility for joy, and this life becomes an exercise in endurance, survivial, mere existance, and "getting things done." We replace desire with duty. If I'm honest, I know "duty" much better than I know "desire."

Why not just accept this? Why not just resign ourselves to a life of endurance and duty. The truth is, most people do. But it is my hope that doing this painful work to undo unhealthy patterns will bring life more meaning, joy, and lasting companionship. I would be remiss if I did not also mention the implications of God here. If all there is in this life is drudgery, what does that say about the Creature who made us? But on the other hand, if there really is an "abundant life," (don't read "wealth" here, but rather "wholeness") we are dishonest not to acknowledge the author of that life.