“the second test,” the cherubim urged. “we must pass the second test.”

“and that is?”

“to Name Sporos. as Meg had to Name you.”

“but Sporos is already Named!”

“not until he has Deepened.”

“i don’t understand.”

“when Sporos Deepens,” Proginoskes told Mr. Jenkins, “it means that he comes of age. it means that he grows up. the temptation for farandola or for man or for star is to stay an immature pleasure-seeker. when we seek our own pleasure as the ultimate good we place ourselves as the center of the universe. a fara or a man or a star has his place in the universe, but nothing created is the center.”

— madeleine l’engle, a wind in the door

— — — — —

i haven’t read this book in some time, but i was thinking today about deepening. in the plot’s context, as far as i remember, when mitochondria (a part of the cell) refuse to Deepen, they die. and eventually the entire being of which they are a part sickens and dies, too.

it hurts to go through circumstances you don’t understand.

why, God? why me? why this? why now? can’t you see how this is ripping my heart out? how this is tearing my reason into little pieces?

it hurts when He starts delving in the cellar of your soul.

“make it deeper! make it wider! expand this house — your mind is too small. your eyes can’t see out the windows anymore. grow!”

there are two things that can happen next. we can, making the ground softer with the water of our tears, pick up a spoon and start digging alongside Him.

or we can ossify and turn to stone so that nothing ever can hurt us again. but it’s hard to dig through bedrock.

if we refuse to deepen, we die.

it is sometimes (often) hard for me to accept that i cannot make someone else deepen.

oh, if only i could say this, or if only i could say that — if only i could speak with the tongues of men and of angels, how clearly they would see! oh, surely they would finally see.

but what would they see?

it’s hard to look your reflection in the mirror in the eyes and realize you are not what another person needs. it is hard to feel new foundations being dug in your own heart and new rooms added onto your soul — to have your mind stretched so amazingly far you’re amazed it doesn’t break — and then realize that you cannot play God in another person’s life and dig and build and stretch them the way you think they need to be dug into and built and stretched and expanded. God is the only One with a right to His place, and His place is at the blazing center, the flaming core of all things. He is the flame — He spoke the stars. He formed you out of dust and knows how much dynamite it will take to blow your bedrock to bits.

He has the power to do it, too.

i don’t.

on the road of being fashioned into who you were made to be, it can hurt to learn who you were not meant to be.

you can stay hurt for the rest of your life. or you can dive down through the pain and deepen.