I have a problem with the mundaneness of living, especially of living “for God.” Living for someone else, according to someone else’s standards without the pillar of fire to awe and guide me makes me resentful. Though I am one in many billion, the reading of the Bible has made me believe that my life is supposed to be important and exciting. Living for God is like having Santa Claus and Bam as your father, the most ridiculous and impossible things become possible. Entire people groups in far-off countries who don’t speak English will feel the call of God and decide to repent due to your obedient heeding of the Great Commission. Spiritual visions and prophesying. Lives impacted and forever changed to “good for God!” These are my un-said expectations of living for God.
The other extreme is a white middle-class version of Stepford Wives—health, wealth, and happiness devoted to God. Of course, the other part of the bargain is the happiness—blessings abound, pressed down, heaping full measures—bring on the capitalistic gains! To do good with, of course. No wonder we get angry when God and reality doesn’t fit with our expectations. Why not cut the crap and just live for ourselves?
Well, there is still a literal fear of God that pervades. God I don’t think you want obedience through fear. But you don’t like people that don’t obey either (see what happened to Saul).

Side note: just when I think I get you or what it’s about, it goes beyond me, there’s always that “yea but.” I want to simplify you, typify, clarify, synthesize to what I know. Life is this so I do that and you respond this other way. I admit that that’s a boring way for you and me to be, especially as your Master of the Universe. I don’t know by what measure to see me and I’m ashamed that this should be so important still. It should be how much I love you because you love me. It should be about faith and obedience. There is that in the small details of my life, the prayers that I say. But the huge heart question of WHO I AM, WHY AM I HERE, and AM I LOVED, WILL I DO ANYTHING WORTHWHILE IN THE 80 years I’m here? I try to answer them.

Ecclesiastes tells us how it is. Creation is futile. Only Creator makes it worthwhile and the doings of Creator—who gets forgiven, etc is beyond Creation’s understanding. All we can do is know that this chaos and good and tragedy and boringness has a purpose, has a plan, that we don’t know and that we can’t know. Not the master or creator of our life—life is a precious gift—stewardship—ultimate meaning must come from the Giver of Life. Ugh. I feel like I can’t accept that.

I feel, like this: To lead you to an overwhelming question,
Oh do not ask what is it!...
And indeed there will be time, to prepare a face to meet the other faces—
to make a hundred indecisions, revisions, and decisions.
For I have known them all already, known them all,
Have known the mornings, afternoons, evenings,
I have measured my life in coffee spoons,
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet---and here’s no great matter,
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the Eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker,
and in short I was afraid.

What the eyes see is better than what the soul desires. This too is futility and striving after wind. Whatever exists has already been named and it is known what man is; for he cannot dispute with him who is stronger than he is. For there are many words which increase futility. What then is the advantage to a man?

I don't know. That's a very good question that I am trying to figure out. But then again if it's beyond me, how can i figure it out!? why not just forget all this, find a nice boyfriend, graduate, and make babies? eat drink and be merry for tomorrow i get breast canceruntil I beat the breast cancer only to watch my husband die of a heart attack, raise my three children by myself until succumbing to Alzheimer's Disease at the age of 67. I procreated. I lived. But was it right? Enough? I don't know. gah.