When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, “Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can. Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie, Contract into a span.”
So strength first made a way; Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure. When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay.
“For if I should,” said he, “Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature; So both should losers be.
“Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness; Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast.”
When God first made us, it was as though He stood beside a shining glass, filled with every blessing, and said, “Let us give them all we can. Let all the riches scattered through the world be gathered up and poured into one small human life.”
So He gave strength first. Then beauty came, then wisdom, honour, and delight. Blessing after blessing flowed out, until almost nothing was left.
Then God paused. At the very bottom of the glass, one gift still remained: rest.
And God said, “If I give them this as well, they may fall in love with what I give and forget the One who gave it. They may settle for the beauty of the world instead of seeking the One who made it. And both of us would lose.”
So God let us keep the other gifts, but not without a longing that stays beneath them. Not without a restlessness that success cannot quiet and pleasure cannot soothe.
Let us be strong, yet still ache. Let us be rich, yet still grow tired. Let us taste good things, yet still know they are not enough.
So that if love does not lead us back to God, perhaps our weariness will. Perhaps the ache in us, the holy dissatisfaction we cannot name, will carry us home to His heart.