Affections and Wouldings…

There are times in my life when I am seized, ruled and made miserable by a heavy cloak of what can most closely be called boredom, or some variation thereof. It’s this feeling of, What am I going to do? And nothing holds its regular appeal. I can’t muster up a way to even idly entertain myself. I feel useless and stuck, and maybe a bit hopelessly so. When these moments came before I was on the field, I would often turn my mind to finally getting out here, and not feeling this way anymore. But it turns out these overwhelming moments have followed me—they must be part of the human experience. Call it restlessness, or questioning my purpose. I imagine it’s the same feeling that causes men to stray from their wives, or successful business people to one day shrug their shoulders and walk away. It’s a strange thing to infect the Christian life, which is maybe why it surprises me so much, hits me so hard.
Anyway, it’s in these moments your will is tested. No longer can emotion carry you. You’ve got to dig deeper, and every move is consciously made. Jonathan Edwards said it’s the difference between wouldings and affections. Wouldings fail, but affections are the “spring of actions.” You have to have proper affections to live the Christian life day after day—you need proper fear, hope, love, hatred, desire, joy, sorrow, gratitude, compassion and zeal. Edwards wrote, “Everyone of us who has the power of godliness in our heart will be inclined to seek the things of God. And whatever our state, this power will give us strength enough to overcome our weak inclinations so that these holy exercises will prevail over our weaknesses.”
And it’s true. I see it in my life. The Holy Spirit spurs me when I cannot will to move; He constrains me when I long to go too far. Deep in my heart are these affections, and that is the power to overcome even these moments of restless boredom, when the tyranny of time and lack of sovereignty grip so tightly.
Anyway, there is joy in this for me, though that slow and steady type that seems more like resolve. And, too, a twinge of amazement, that even before I was a Christian—and in so many people who still aren’t—God gave me the grace not to be overcome.
(This probably doesn’t make any sense, does it?)