Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts

Sunday, August 4, 2019

Introspection: Rethinking Destiny

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.
Comments are always welcomed.
If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.


Rethinking Destiny

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30 (NRSV)


If you want, then start to laugh
If you must, then start to cry
Be yourself; don't hide
Just believe in destiny
Don't care what people say
Just follow your own way
Don't give up, and use the chance
To return to innocence

From "Return to Innocence" by Enigma


This year, I've made it a point to read more fiction.  A few months ago, I read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.  In this novel, a young shepherd named Santiago has a recurring dream in which he is told that there is a treasure buried near the pyramids of Egypt.  One day, Santiago stops in a city on his way to sell his sheep's wool, and he meets Melchizedek, the immortal king of Salem, who tells him that finding the treasure mentioned in his dream is his "Personal Legend."  According to the king, your Personal Legend is "what you have always wanted to accomplish."1  "God has prepared a path for everyone to follow," the king tells Santiago.  "You just have to read the omens that he left for you."2


What Coelho calls Personal Legend others might call destiny.  When I use the word destiny, I do not use it in a deterministic sense.  In other words, I am not referring to what will inevitably happen in a person's life.  As a good Methodist, I've never been a big fan of determinism or predestination.  Destiny, as I have come to understand it, is what a person was born to do - that is, if the person has the determination and the courage to do it.

In years past, I stopped believing in such things because I was afraid that God wanted for me something I did not want for myself.  One way I went wrong back then was that I was listening to other people too much and listening within too little.  Though it is true that other people can help us to see things we might not see in ourselves, people sometimes have hidden agendas.  People might want us to fill roles in their lives that were never ours to fill in the first place.  I've learned the hard way that, if we do not have a purpose in life, we will be given one.

Reading The Alchemist has caused me to reconsider the possibility that each of us has destiny, that each of us was born to fulfill a unique purpose in life.

Speaking to a crowd, Jesus once invited all who "are weary and are carrying heavy burdens" to come to Him and to trade their heavy burdens for the yoke He offers, promising, "My yoke is easy, and my burden is light."  In a recent paraphrase of the Bible, The Voice, He says, regarding this yoke, "It might appear heavy at first, but it is perfectly fitted to your curves."3  In other words, the yoke He invites a person to take on is perfectly tailored for the person.  Maybe Jesus is inviting us to lay down the burdens we were never meant to carry and to embrace the purposes that were actually meant for us.

Once, for a sermon illustration, Shane Hipps used a guitar to hit wiffle balls to the people in his congregation, effectively demonstrating that a guitar can serve as an adequate wiffle ball bat.  He then gave the guitar to someone who started playing a song with it, making it obvious that the guitar was meant not for playing wiffle ball but for making music.  Similarly, though there are many things a person could do, maybe there is something specific a person is meant to do.4

It seems to me that, if God did create me for a specific purpose, then I must have been designed with that purpose in mind.  My purpose must be written into my programming in some way.  If this is the case, then my purpose in life is not something other people can tell me.  It is instead something I must look inward to discover.  I imagine that, if I was indeed created for a purpose, then living out my purpose would seem right to me and make me feel alive.

Melchizedek tells Santiago that "everyone, when they are young, knows what their Personal Legend is."  The king goes on to say that most people eventually convince themselves that their Personal Legends are impossible and then choose paths in life that are more practical.  He then points out a baker in the city who, like Santiago, wanted to travel when he was young but played it safe and bought a bakery instead.5

I tried to remember what I wanted to do with my life before I decided in college that it would be a good idea to become a computer programmer.  When I was a child I kept changing my mind about what I wanted to do when I grew up.  I probably came up with a new idea whenever someone with a particular profession came to speak at my school or whenever a particular occupation was featured on a show on PBS.  Had I followed my heart in college, I probably would have majored in either religion or philosophy, neither of which are especially practical fields of study.

A few things stand out in my memory.  I remember that, when I was a little boy, my grandfather built a tiny podium for me.  Apparently I envisioned myself as someone who spoke in front of large crowds - a teacher, a preacher, or maybe a game show host.  I also remember playing school a lot.  Incidentally, when I realized that computer programming is not all it's cracked up to be, I started teaching Sunday School and preaching occasionally at my church.  I think that such things draw me because I love sharing knowledge with people and inviting people to look at things in new ways.  I later learned that my spiritual gifts are knowledge and teaching.

A song by Switchfoot suggests that "the shadow proves the sunshine."  In other words, sometimes a noticeable absence of something is evidence of its existence.6  I'm still wrestling with the idea that there is one particular thing I'm meant to do with my life, but I've reached the conclusion that there are things I was not put on this planet to do.  Perhaps the latter is evidence of the former.  Furthermore, the restlessness I sometimes feel would seem to suggest that, if there is something I'm meant to do, I'm not doing it.  The fact I still feel it at times also suggests that, if I have a destiny, I haven't lost it yet.

I enjoyed reading The Alchemist, and I would recommend it to anyone wrestling with his or her purpose in life or to anyone who simply enjoys a good story.  It challenged me to reconsider the possibility that there is something I was born to do; it reminded me that the journey is at least as important as the destination; and it warned me that pursuing my destiny, if I indeed have one, will mean turning my back on what is safe, comfortable, and predictable.


Notes:
  1. Paulo Coelho.  The Alchemist (25th Anniversary Edition).  2014, Harper One.  p. 23
  2. Coelho, pp. 31-32
  3. Matthew 11:29 (The Voice)
  4. Shane Hipps.  "Wiffle Guitar."  Mars Hill Bible Church, 06/27/2010.
  5. Coelho, pp. 23-25
  6. C.S. Lewis makes such an argument at the beginning of Mere Christianity.
The photograph of the Pyramids of Giza has been released to the public domain.  The photographer is in no way affiliated with this blog.

Sunday, May 26, 2019

Introspection: For a Reason

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.
Comments are always welcomed.
If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.


For a Reason

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away...

Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6 (NRSV)


Somewhere I will find
All the pieces torn apart
You just left behind
In Your mystery
Somewhere I will see
All You've taken from me
All You kept deep inside
In the mystery of You

From "Mystery of You" by RED


A few years ago, I went through a time of loss.  In September of 2015, I realized that the future of the young adult Bible study group I had attended for the last five years was uncertain, and I feared that recent changes at my church, where I was the youngest member by a large margin, would leave me further isolated from my peers.  I decided to leave my church and to devote my energy to the Bible study group, but, by the end of the year, it disbanded.  The community that meant the world to me was gone.  For a number of years, I had been working to become certified as a lay speaker in my denomination, but I figured that, since I had abandoned my church, my preaching "career" was pretty much over.

The church I left, which I attended for most of my life, closed its doors less than two years later.

The church-related losses of late 2015 were not the only losses I experienced in recent years.  There have been a number of situations in my family that have kept me feeling stressed out.  I've had to mourn the loss of a number of family pets.  I've lost faith in people I once admired.  I've become disillusioned with things that once gave me hope.  As time passes, I've been feeling more and more stuck in life.

Recently, I realized that, for far too long, the story I've been telling myself about my life has been a narrative of loss.  The losses I've experienced have indeed been painful, but to focus solely on what I've lost is a failure to properly appreciate what's good in my life.  Even after practicing gratitude for more than a year, I've still found myself saying, "I feel like everything good in my life is being chipped away, bit by bit."  Truth be told, such a statement does not accurately describe my life.

Six months after I left my previous church, I found my way to the church I now attend, and, over time, I've found my place there.  I joined a Sunday school class, which I eventually started leading every few weeks, as I did at my previous church.  The class discusses current events in light of faith, so it has stretched me a bit.  I also joined a church small group that meets weekly during various times of the year, and early last year I started leading it as well.  My friends from this group have been a source of encouragement to me, and I hope that I have been a blessing to them as well.  Because my new church is larger and healthier than my previous church, I have had the privilege to serve in ways that better utilize my spiritual gifts, and I have not had to juggle a bunch of hats I never had any business wearing, as I did in the past.

When I decided to leave my church, I figured I wouldn't be preaching again anytime soon.  Surprisingly, the pastors of the church I left continued to support me, and I ended up with even more preaching opportunities than I had previously.  The pastors of my new church have also been supportive of me, and, two years ago, I finally completed the requirements to be certified as a lay speaker.  Though I don't preach at my new church as often I preached at my previous church, I have had the opportunity to visit numerous churches as a guest speaker.

Recently I've had the opportunity to participate in some short-term studies with some of my friends from the group that disbanded back in 2015.  Also, two years ago, I joined a group that meets up weekly at a downtown coffee shop to discuss life.  In this group, I've met a lot of people and formed a number of new friendships.  In perhaps the most unexpected twist of fate, around the same time, I was invited to join the board that oversees the collegiate ministry I used to attend.  Sitting on the board has given me the opportunity to revisit the weekly gatherings that meant so much to me when I was involved with the ministry previously.

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis suggests that God "always gives back to [people] with His right hand what He has taken away with His left."1  Though I cannot say with absolute certainty what is an act of God and what is not, when I look back over the last few years, something about Lewis's words rings true.  I now realize that I have, in some way, regained a lot of what I lost back in late 2015 and that I have actually gained more than I lost.

A lot of people believe that "everything happens for a reason."  Personally, I cannot say that I am totally on board with such an idea.  Some of the things that happen in this world are so horrific that it is problematic to suggest that they happen in order to bring about some divine purpose.  Furthermore, when we are going through painful times, it is somewhat less than than helpful to hear that our pain is part of some greater purpose, as if we're pawns that have been sacrificed in a divine game of chess.

That said, I think that maybe, after we've come through difficult times, it can be helpful to look back and consider how God might have worked in our lives through them.  Whether or not everything actually happens for a reason, looking for reason can help us to come to terms with the difficulties we faced.


At one point, I briefly entertained the thought that the dissolution of my Bible study group was a consequence of my leaving my church.  I thought that maybe being abandoned by the community I needed was my punishment for abandoning the community that needed me.  Fair is fair, right?

I've since started seeing the bigger picture.  My previous church had a small, aging congregation, and, in many ways, it didn't meet my needs.  Double-dipping with other churches allowed me to say at my church while being in fellowship with other Christians my age.  The prospect of losing that option is what compelled me to move on from my previous church and enabled me to find my way to the church I now attend.  I now see that, if God did indeed take my Bible study group from me, God was not punishing me but rather relocating me.

Though I'm still not willing to say that everything happens for a reason, I'm starting to consider that maybe some things happen for a reason.

Though there is a lot of good in my life, I still feel stuck.  My life is not what I wish it was.  I have a restlessness in my bones and aches in my heart that will not go away.  The possibility that what brought me from where I was in the past to where I am today was not the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" but rather the One who holds the universe together gives me hope that maybe my life is actually heading somewhere.


Notes:
  1. C.S. Lewis.  The Screwtape Letters.  ch. 14
The image featured in this introspection is believed to be public domain.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Perspective: Leaves and Fruits

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.
Comments are always welcomed.
If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.


Leaves and Fruits

From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.

Luke 12:48b (NRSV)


Father, break my heart for what breaks Yours
Give me open hands and open doors
Put Your light in my eyes and let me see
That my own little world is not about me

From "My Own Little World" by Matthew West


One morning, while in Jerusalem, a hungry Jesus spots a fig tree beside the road.  He walks over to the tree and starts looking for some figs to eat, but He finds "nothing at all on it but leaves."  Angrily, Jesus says, "May no fruit ever come from you again!"  The fig tree immediately withers, to the Disciples' astonishment.1

As I've noted previously, Jesus' cursing the fig tree and causing it to wither is a symbolic act.  The fig tree represented the religious institution of the day.  People had been going to the temple spiritually hungry but finding no nourishment, in the same way that Jesus approaches the fig tree physically hungry but finds nothing to eat.2  According to the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus curses the fig tree the day after He barged into the Temple of the Lord, turned over the tables of the merchants and money changers, and proclaimed, "It is written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer'; but you are making it a den of robbers."3

Lately I've been experimenting with a method of reading Scripture called Lectio Divina, which is less cerebral and more meditative and contemplative than typical Bible study.  It is less about reading Scripture and more about letting Scripture read us.  In Lectio Divina, a person reads a short passage of Scripture slowly and prayerfully several times until a particular word or phrase grabs her.  The person then meditates on the particular word or phrase, considering why it might have stuck a chord with her.  The practice ends with a time of prayer and contemplative silence.4  I don't think I've quite gotten the hang of Lectio Divina, but I think my efforts have helped me to read Scripture with more introspection.

When I recently read the story of Jesus' cursing the fig tree, using this method of "divine reading," the phrase that struck me was "nothing... but leaves."  I wondered if Jesus would find any "fruit" if He were to look at my life.  I wondered if there are any "leaves" in my life I have been using to hide any fruitlessness on my part.

Leaves and fruits are both important to plants, but they have very different purposes.  Leaves are the organs in which carbon dioxide, water, and light are used to construct simple sugars in a process known as photosynthesis.5  They are vital to a plant's survival, but they exist only to serve the plant itself.  A fruit, on the other hand, is a structure that contains seeds, the means by which a plant reproduces.  Also, fruits are often edible.6  A plant produces fruit not for its own sake, but for the future of its own species and for the nourishment of other species.

A fruitful life, I suppose, is a life that extends beyond itself in some way - a life that involves more than mere existence.  I think it's worth noting that the word generous shares an etymological root with the word generate.  We create - or bear fruit - so that we may have something to share with others.7

A tree in full leaf is a beautiful sight, but sometimes a closer look is required to determine whether or not it has actually produced anything that isn't meant to serve itself.  Likewise, a person might appear to have a full life at first glance, but a second look could reveal otherwise.  I am reminded of one king who had it all - wealth, power, accomplishments, palaces, vineyards, and more women than he could keep up with - and, when he looked back, he saw that it was all "pointless" and "a chasing after wind."8  A life that does not extend beyond itself ultimately withers into nothingness.

In A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, writer Donald Miller reflects on his experience of turning one of his previous memoirs into a screenplay.  In the midst of the process, he took some time to learn what makes a good story and what makes a good character in a story.  At one point, Miller realized that he had spent far too much of his time dreaming, while others were actually living their lives with actual people.  He realized that he had not been living a meaningful life, as evidenced by the lack of photographs on his mantle and end tables.  He knew that he had to make some changes in his life.9

I think that maybe these things have come to my mind because I fear that I'm living a fruitless life.  I wouldn't say that I'm living a "full" life, by anyone's definition, but I try to keep myself occupied.  That said, I wonder how much actual "fruit" I am really bearing in my life.  So often I feel that I spend most of my time spinning my wheels.  I don't believe that life is meaningless, but I fear that I might not be living a very meaningful life.

How can we tell the difference between the "leaves" and the "fruits" in our lives?  How can we pull back the "leaves" to see if our lives have borne any "fruit"?  I have my doubts that we can answer these questions for ourselves objectively.  We might need to allow ourselves to become vulnerable and ask the people we trust to tell us what kind of "fruit" they see in our lives.  I haven't quite figured out what all of this means for myself, but I have given myself some questions to ponder for a while.  I hope that I have given you, the reader, some questions to ponder as well.


Notes:
  1. Matthew 21:18-20 (NRSV)
  2. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan.  The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus's Final Days in Jerusalem.  2006, HarperOne.  p. 56
  3. Matthew 21:12-13 (NRSV)
  4. Justin LaRosa and James Harnish.  A Disciple's Path Daily Workbook.  2012, Abingdon Press.  pp.46-47
  5. Wikipedia: Leaf
  6. Wikipedia: Fruit
  7. I probably stole this thought from someone, maybe Rob Bell, but I do not have a reference.
  8. Ecclesiastes 2:4-11 (CEB)
  9. Donald Miller.  A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life.  2009, Thomas Nelson.  ch. 13
The photograph of the fig tree was taken by Wikimedia Commons user Miya in Hyogo, Japan and is used under under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.  The photographer is, in no way, affiliated with this blog.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Sermon: Now What? (2017)

Delivered at Trinity United Methodist Church in Fountain Inn, South Carolina on May 28, 2017, Ascension Sunday

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.
Comments are always welcomed.
If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.


Now What?

Audio Version



So when [Jesus and his disciples] had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”  He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took Him out of their sight.  While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them.  They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away.  When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James.  All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

Acts 1:6-14 (NRSV)


Give me a revelation
Show me what to do
'Cause I've been trying to find my way
I haven't got a clue
Tell me, should I stay here?
Or do I need to move?
Give me a revelation
I've got nothing without You

From “Revelation” by Third Day


After I accepted my first job as a professional computer programmer, I started returning to my alma mater every now and then for long walks around campus.  The beautifully cultivated grounds of the university were the perfect place for me to sort through my thoughts.  On one Sunday evening, as I followed the paths around campus, I realized that I was feeling a bit lost – not lost on campus but lost in life.  Within the last few months, I had completed both of the life goals my parents had set for me.  I had graduated from college with a bachelors degree, and I had landed a full-time professional job.  I had accomplished everything for which I had spent my whole life preparing.  My life's work was complete.

My thoughts and my feelings that evening boiled down to a single question:

Now what?



Jesus and His disciples were gathered at the Mount of Olives, not far from Jerusalem.  The Disciples, perhaps still under the impression that Jesus was the political leader who would liberate their people from the Roman occupation, asked if He would soon restore autonomy to Israel.  Jesus told them that such matters were none of their concern and then said, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  He suddenly began to rise from the ground and float into the sky, and then, as the Disciples were watching, He disappeared into the clouds.

For the Disciples, life had been nothing short of an emotional roller coaster ride as of late.  They had been called away from their previous careers as fisherman, tax collectors, and militant political activists to become students of the traveling teacher and healer known as Jesus of Nazareth.  They followed Him on His journeys, listening to Him proclaim the coming of the Kingdom of God, watching Him clash with the religious elite, and pondering His teachings and parables.  They watched with wonder as He healed the sick, befriended outcasts, worked miracles, and brought peace to the disturbed.  They began to think that maybe this Jesus was the Messiah, the long-awaited leader who would finally drive their oppressors out of the land and usher in the prophesied age of peace and prosperity.

Full of anticipation, the Disciples followed Jesus into the capital city of Jerusalem.  They watched Him ride into town on a donkey, like a king during peacetime, to the joyous shouts of the crowds.1  They watched Him throw the merchants out of the temple in protest of the corruption of the religious establishment.2  Then, one fateful night, the Disciples' hopes and dreams were shattered when Jesus surrendered to a violent mob.  Jesus was taken before the temple court and then to the Roman governor who sentenced Him to die by crucifixion.  He was mocked, beaten, and nailed to a cross.  He died in agony, and His body was sealed in a tomb.3

Two days later, the Disciples received reports that several people had seen Jesus alive and well.  Suddenly, Jesus appeared in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.”4  For forty more days, the Disciples continued to learn from Him.5  Their hope was restored.  Jesus had been raised from the dead, and everything could go back to the way it was before those horrific days in Jerusalem.  Not even a brutal execution could stop Jesus.  Surely the defeat of the Romans and the restoration of Israel was at hand!

And then...

all of a sudden...

Jesus was gone.

We have no way of knowing exactly what the Disciples were thinking at that moment, but I cannot help but think that, as they stared up at the clouds into which their Teacher and Messiah had just vanished, one of them asked, “Now what?”

Now what? is a question familiar to all of us, a question we find ourselves asking at various times in our lives.  It is the type of question we ask when what was is no longer what is and while we still aren't quite sure what will be.  It is the type of question we ask when, like the Disciples, we step into a liminal space, a state of transition not unlike the interlude between one act of a play and the next.

The Disciples could not rightfully be called “disciples” any longer, for the teacher they had been shadowing was gone.  They had graduated from discipleship, whether they were ready or not.  No longer were they called to be disciples – people who follow – but rather apostles – people who are sent out on a mission.  Jesus had called them to take His message of hope further and further outward, as if in an ever-widening circle,6 from the city of Jerusalem, to the surrounding region of Judea, to the neighboring region of Samaria, and ultimately throughout the world...

but not yet.

Not long before this, when Jesus and the Disciples were gathered together for a meal, Jesus instructed the Disciples to remain in Jerusalem until a certain promise of God had been fulfilled.  Something had to happen first before the Disciples could set out on their mission.  Jesus told them that they would be “baptized by the Holy Spirit” and that this baptism, whatever it was, would empower them to do what they had been called to do.7  Until that time, they were to stand in the threshold between discipleship and apostleship, waiting.

Like the men formerly known as disciples, we all go through times of transition, waiting, and uncertainty in our lives, times when we ask Now what?

When I accepted my first job after graduation, I left a part of my life behind me and stepped into a liminal space of my own.  I turned the page on the story that had been written for me, and what I found staring back at me was a blank page.  I had met the goals my parents had set for me, so their expectations could no longer be my guide.  I had to start living my own life.  Whatever I wanted out of life, I knew I wouldn't find it in my job, for I worked in the gambling industry, which isn't exactly known for making the world a better place.  So began my search for meaning and purpose in life.


While the Disciples were still staring at the clouds, two men dressed in white – presumably angels – appeared and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?  This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven.”  (Apparently, in their neck of the woods, it's an everyday occurrence to see someone levitating to the sky and disappearing into the clouds.)  When we step into times of waiting, as the Disciples did when Jesus ascended, we might not know what to do with ourselves.  Standing around with our heads in the clouds is not an option, for there is always work to do.

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis notes that we are often tempted to live either in the past through nostalgia or in the future through expectation or anxiety.  The truth of the matter is that the past is frozen in time while the future is ever in flux.  All we really have is the present moment, the only point in time that actually touches Eternity.  That said, we only need to concern ourselves with the duties, trials, and graces of the present, as we commend both the past and the future into God's hands.  We should only concern ourselves with the parts of the future that require our immediate preparation.8

If you find yourself in a time of waiting or in a time of change, I cannot tell you that better days are on the way, nor can I tell you that worse days lie ahead.  What I can tell you with relative certainty is that the next days are coming and that the next days will bring with them work that must be done.9  We spend our first decades of life preparing for the rest of our lives, and we spend much of the rest of our lives preparing for the weeks, days, and hours ahead of us.

The Disciples did not know what lay ahead of them.  What they did know is that what once was twelve was now eleven.  They were down a man, because one of them literally sold Jesus out and then, realizing the disastrous consequences of his actions, gave up on himself.  For the Disciples, the duties of the present moment included the selection of a twelfth.  They discerned that the twelfth must have been a dedicated follower of Jesus from the very beginning of His ministry to the present day.  They narrowed their selection pool down to two candidates and then cast lots, praying that God's will would be done.  The lot fell on a man named Matthias, and he was chosen to become the twelfth apostle.10

In the book Jesus Is Better than You Imagined, writer Jonathan Merritt confesses that, like many people, he is “impatient by nature.”  Though he always considered waiting to be excruciating, over time he came to understand something important about times of waiting.11  He writes,
Periods of waiting are not passive, hands-in-pocket interims.  Rather they are times in life when God is preparing us for a spiritual upgrade.  Maybe that is why [Jesus] has made two millennia of His postmortem disciples wait for Him to return.  Jesus knows that waiting doesn't mean wasting.  It means God is working.12
We might not always know what to do during times of waiting, but we can be confident that God is already at work.

It is worth noting that the Disciples did one other thing while they waited for the promise of God to be fulfilled: they “constantly devot[ed] themselves to prayer.”  Though we often think of prayer as asking God to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves, there is so much more to prayer than simply asking God to do our bidding.  Prayer opens us up to the presence of God and to the creative work God is already doing all around us.13  The Disciples knew that they were called to share Christ's message with the world, but they also knew that their time had not yet come.  They had been instructed by Jesus to remain in Jerusalem and wait until the coming of the Holy Spirit.  Their time of waiting has been called “a significant pause between the mighty acts of God, a pause in which the church's task is to wait and pray.”14

The Disciples didn't always fully understand the things Jesus said, so I would wager a guess that they didn't quite know what to expect in the days ahead.  They needed direction from God, and they needed to be open to what God was doing.

Like the Disciples, I too sought direction from God.  Specifically, I sought a new direction that would guide me to what I would not find in my job.  This search drove me to try new things.  I became more involved in the Church; I tried my hand at preaching and teaching Sunday school; and I discovered the joy of writing.  Amid my search, there were even some times of persistent prayer and waiting.  In my search for meaning, I found meaning in the search itself, and I have found meaning in the work the search has brought into my life.  I lost my first programming job a little less than two years after I accepted it.  Three months later, I started a new job at a local technical college, where I have been working for over seven years.  This job is a better fit for me than the first, but, to this day, I am still searching.

For the Disciples, the intermission between discipleship and apostleship lasted for a mere ten days.  On a feast day called Pentecost, something amazing happened – but that is a story for another day.  Seasons of waiting can last for weeks, months, or even years.  Sometimes the space between what was and what will be seems less like an intermission and more like a desolate wasteland.  Sometimes we ask Now what? when the journey of life has taken us into the proverbial wilderness.  I am referring to that seemingly endless season of spiritual dryness when we feel far from anything familiar and when we are once again trying to figure out who we are and where we belong in the world.

The wilderness experience takes its name from the journey of the ancient Israelites.  For forty years, the people of Israel trudged through the desert, from the day God parted the Red Sea, rescuing them from slavery, to the day God parted the Jordan River, ushering them into the Promised Land.  In the wilderness, the Israelites experienced freedom, and they also faced great difficulty.  In the wilderness, they received instruction from God, and they also contended with God.  In the wilderness, they progressed toward their destination at times, and they also wandered at times.  The wilderness is the place where anything can happen, yet it is also the place where it often seems that nothing is happening.


Lauren Winner, in her memoir Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis, reflects on entering the “middle” of her spiritual life, which she describes as “a vague in-between, after the intensity of conversion and before the calm wisdom of cronehood,” and she ponders the various “middles” of life.  She notes that the word middle is often associated with things that aren't particularly good – middle school and the Middle Ages, for example – but she also notes that not all “middles” in life are necessarily bad.  In chess, the middle game is what brings out a player's strategic thinking and creativity, for it is the part of the game in which anything can happen.  Middlestead is an old word that describes the threshing floor of a barn, the place where the wheat is separated from the chaff.  Winner concludes that, for her, spiritual midlife will be a time of winnowing.15

Last year, my own journey started to feel a bit like a wilderness.  I had left the church I attended for the first thirty-one years of my life, and I came to realize that the church I had started attending afterward was not a good fit for me.  To make matters even more difficult, the Bible study group that had been my community for five years had dissolved, despite my efforts to keep it going.  I had stepped into uncharted territory, and I often felt like I was spinning my wheels.  This feeling did not last forever.  I have found a church where I believe I will grow spiritually, and my service to the Church at large is keeping me busy once again.

The wilderness experience seems dry and desolate, but it can actually be a blessing in disguise.  The wilderness might be the place where we are unknowingly prepared for whatever comes next in our lives.  It might also a place for some much needed winnowing.  We discover who we really are when we're stripped of everything we're not.  Bane or blessing, the wilderness experience is not something we can escape: it is something we must endure.  When the journey through the wilderness became difficult, the ancient Israelites began to think that they were better off as slaves and were tempted to turn back, but the only way out of the wilderness is through it.  As we journey through the wilderness, God is with us every step of the way to lead us and provide for us, in the same way that God was with the Israelites, but we must have faith.

Sometimes we find ourselves in the wilderness after a change in life, but sometimes we end up in the wilderness after a failure of some sort.  Sometimes we ask Now what? when we have screwed up so badly that we feel that there is no point in trying to carry on as if nothing happened.  We stand in the wilderness between our failure and whatever comes next, unsure if we should hope for a rebound or just give up on whatever we had started.  I think that, after Jesus' resurrection, one of the Disciples might have found himself in such a place.

In the Gospel of John, we read that, one night, Peter made an announcement to the other Disciples.  He said, "I'm going fishing."  A number of the others decided to go with him.16  There are numerous theories regarding why Peter decided to go fishing that night.  When I look at this story in light of my own, I cannot help but wonder if maybe Peter was turning in his resignation as a disciple, having decided to return to his past life as a fisherman.  Shortly before Jesus was arrested, Peter declared in his bravado that he was willing to lay down his life for Him.17  Hours later, while Jesus stood trial before the high priest, Peter denied three times that he even knew Him.18  For some reason, Jesus had named him Peter, meaning “rock.”19  Some rock he turned out to be!

After a night spent not catching fish, Peter and the others saw a man on the beach.  He called out to them and told them to try throwing out their net from the right side of the boat.  When they were unable to haul in the massive catch of fish, they immediately knew the man was Jesus.20  In another Gospel, we read that, when Jesus first called Peter to leave behind his boat and his nets to start fishing for people as His disciple, He did so with a miraculous catch of fish.21  When Peter was apparently tempted to give up on his calling, Jesus called him back with the very same miracle.  Three times Peter had denied knowing Jesus; three times Jesus asked Peter, “Do you love me?” and three times Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”22

I originally started preaching because, in my search for meaning in life, I wondered if my calling was in the ministry.  A few years later, I came to the realization that I have a tendency to bail out on people when I feel that they want too much from me.  I figured that there was no point in pursuing a future in the ministry if I wasn't going to minister to people.  Over time, I came to realize that all of us who follow Jesus Christ – both laity and clergy – are called to be ministers to each other and to the world, and, Like Peter, I came to realize that failure is not an excuse to throw in the towel.  At times, we might be tempted to abandon our calling as followers of Christ, but graciously Christ keeps calling us back.

We all go through times of uncertainty when we ask Now what?  When we're stuck the threshold between the past and the future, unsure of what to expect, we must not keep our heads in the clouds, for there is always work to be done in the present.  When we're trudging through our own personal wilderness, all we can do is to keep on trudging.  When we're reeling from failure, we must not throw in the towel.  Wherever we happen to be, we are invited to seek direction from God in prayer and to trust in God to guide us, for God is never far away.

Thanks be to God.


Notes:
  1. Luke 19:29-40
  2. Luke 19:45-46
  3. Luke 22:47-23:56
  4. Luke 24:1-43
  5. Acts 1:3
  6. William Barclay.  The Daily Study Bible Series: The Acts of the Apostles, Revised Edition.  1976, The Westminster Press.  p. 12
  7. Acts 1:4-5
  8. C.S. Lewis.  The Screwtape Letters.  ch. 15
  9. Kent Dobson.  “When: 2.”  Mars Hill Bible Church podcast, 03/16/2014.
  10. Acts 1:15-26
  11. Jonathan Merritt.  Jesus Is Better than You Imagined.  2014, Faith Words.  p. 103
  12. Merritt, p. 108
  13. Rob Bell.  NOOMA Open | 019.  2008, Zondervan/Flannel.
  14. William H. Willimon.  Acts (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching)  1988, John Knox Press.  p. 20
  15. Lauren Winner.  Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis.  2012, Harper One.  pp. 60-62
  16. John 21:3
  17. John 13:37
  18. John 18:12-27
  19. John 1:42
  20. John 21:1-14
  21. Luke 5:1-11
  22. John 21:15-19
The Ascension was painted by David Teniers the Younger in the mid 1600s and is based on a drawing by Leandro Bassano.  The photograph of my feet was taken by me at my alma mater.  The photograph of the desert canyon was taken by Bob Miles of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and has been released into the public domain.

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Introspection: Something Meaningful

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.
Comments are always welcomed.
If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.


Something Meaningful

Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.

James 4:10 (CEB)


I've had just enough of the spotlight when it burns bright
To see how it gets in the blood
And I've tasted my share of the sweet life and the wild ride
And found a little is not quite enough

From "Empty Me" by Chris Sligh


One day, Solomon, not long after he was inaugurated as king of Israel, went to worship at one of the shrines that had been built to God.  That night, God appeared to him in a dream and said, "Ask whatever you wish, and I'll give it to you."  Solomon was a bit self-conscious at that time.  He felt that he was too young and inexperienced to be king, so he asked God to give him the wisdom he would need to lead his people well.  God was impressed that Solomon selflessly asked for wisdom when he could have asked for anything else, so God agreed to give Solomon the wisdom he requested along with the riches and glory he did not request.1

While Solomon ruled the people, he searched for something meaningful in life, so he pursued ambition, pleasure, and wealth.  He oversaw great construction projects, including palaces for himself and a Temple for God; he amassed a great fortune; he had servants, personal choirs, and even a harem.  Though he enjoyed it all for a while, it all left him feeling empty inside.2  He looked back on his life and concluded that everything is "Meaningless! Utterly meaningless!" and "a chasing after the wind."3

A friend of mine once observed that thoughtful people tend to be prone to sadness.  Similarly, I seem to remember reading that philosophers are some of the most depressed people in the world.  I would wager a guess that their depression stems from their habit of picking apart everything that typically makes people happy.  I suspect that Solomon must have experienced some sort of cognitive dissonance, some internal conflict between his desire and his wisdom.  He pursued his every desire, holding nothing back from himself, yet his wisdom haunted him, crying, "Meaningless! Utterly meaningless!" not unlike a raven repeating, "Nevermore."

The very fact that someone laments that life is meaningless hints that there actually is meaning in life.  To borrow some logic from C.S. Lewis, if life really was meaningless, then nobody would know or even care that it was meaningless, because there would be nothing meaningful to which one could compare the meaninglessness.  Nobody laments the meaninglessness of life without having first tasted something meaningful in life.4

Solomon was wrong: some things in life actually are meaningful.



Last year, my friend Scott was diagnosed with cancer, and he fought it bravely to the end.  All the while, he and his wife had a large community of friends and friends of friends supporting them and praying for them.

To be perfectly honest, I hesitated to refer to Scott as my friend when I asked people to pray for him.  My hesitation was a matter of semantics and not fondness.  I didn't dislike him; I just didn't think I knew him well enough to rightly say that he was my friend.  There was a time when we worked at a spiritual retreat together, but, other than that, we hadn't really spent any time together.

As I already noted, Scott had a lot of friends praying for him, and, shortly before he passed away, a large number of us took buses to his house to sing to him.  He and a his wife invited us into their house afterward, and each of us had a chance to talk with him.  When my turn came, he said to me, "Thank you, dear friend."

Any question in my mind regarding whether or not Scott and I were friends was settled.

I received a blessing that day, which seemed unfair at first.  I went with the others to be a blessing to Scott, but he blessed me by calling me a friend.  I seriously doubt he even knew what his words would mean to me: I'm sure he just said what he was feeling at the time.  When we look at the world around us, life seems like a zero-sum game in which many lose so that a few can win.  That day, I was reminded that there is another mode of living in which one can give a gift to someone else and both somehow end up richer for it.



An early Christian hymn tells us that Jesus Christ, who was both one with God and equal to God, divested Himself of the power and glory that comes with divinity, to take on frail human flesh and minister to the humans He created.  He lived His live as a servant, and He always did what was right, even though it meant that He would die a disgraceful death.5  The life of Christ was perhaps the most meaningful life in human history.

Like Solomon, we all go through life seeking personal fulfillment, but so often we find ourselves feeling empty inside.  I live in a country that was founded on the right to pursue one's happiness, yet, for some reason, depression runs rampant like a plague.  Perhaps our problem is that our search for meaning and fulfillment is largely self-centered.  We follow our desires to make us feel happy and fulfilled, yet it is in those moments when we empty ourselves for the sake of others, following the example of Christ, that we truly find meaning in life.  Perhaps fulfillment is found ironically through emptiness.


Notes:
  1. 1 Kings 3:3-14 (CEB)
  2. Ecclesiastes 2:1-11
  3. Ecclesiastes 1:2,14 (NIV)
  4. C.S. Lewis.  Mere Christianity.  Book 2, ch 1
  5. Philippians 2:5-11
The picture of King Solomon is public domain.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Sermon: Now What?

Delivered at Monaghan United Methodist Church in Greenville, South Carolina on June 1, 2014, Ascension Sunday.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.
Comments are always welcomed.


Now What?

So when [Jesus and the Disciples] had come together, they asked Him, "Lord, is this the time when You will restore the kingdom to Israel?"  He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by His own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."  When He had said this, as they were watching, He was lifted up, and a cloud took Him out of their sight.  While He was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them.  They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven."

Acts 1:6-11 (NRSV)


Give me a revelation
Show me what to do
'Cause I've been trying to find my way
I haven't got a clue
Tell me, should I stay here?
Or do I need to move?
Give me a revelation
I've got nothing without You

From "Revelation" by Third Day


After I accepted my first job as a computer programmer, I started returning to my alma mater every now and then to take long walks.  I found the beautifully cultivated grounds of the campus to be the perfect place to sort through my thoughts.  One Sunday evening, as I followed the walking paths around campus, I became aware of a feeling that I was lost – not lost on campus but lost in life.  Within the last few months, I had completed both of the life goals my parents had set for me: I had graduated from college with a bachelors degree and I had landed a full-time professional job.  I had accomplished everything for which I spent my whole life preparing.  My life's work was complete.  My thoughts and feelings that evening could be summarized by one question:

"Now what?"

Jesus and His disciples were gathered at the Mount of Olives, not far from Jerusalem.  The Disciples, still under the impression that Jesus was the great political leader who would defeat the Romans, asked if it was time for Him to restore autonomy to Israel.  Jesus told them that such matters were not their concern and then reminded them that they would soon be empowered by the Holy Spirit to take His message of hope throughout the world.  He suddenly began to rise from the ground and float into the sky, and then, as the Disciples were watching, He disappeared into the clouds.

For the Disciples, the last three years had been nothing short of an emotional roller coaster ride.  They had all been called away from their previous careers as fisherman, tax collectors, and militant political activists to become followers of the traveling teacher and healer known as Jesus of Nazareth.  For three years, they followed Him on His journeys.  They listened to Him proclaim the coming of the Kingdom of God, watched as He butted heads with the religious elite, and pondered His mysterious parables.  They watched with wonder as He healed the sick, befriended outcasts, worked miracles, and brought peace to the disturbed.  They began to think that maybe this Jesus was the Messiah, the long-awaited leader who would finally drive their oppressors out of the land and usher in an age of peace and prosperity.

The Disciples followed Jesus as He rode into the capital city of Jerusalem on a donkey to the joyous shouts of the crowds.  They watched Him throw the merchants out of the temple in protest of the corruption of the religious establishment.  Then, one fateful night, their hopes and dreams were shattered when Jesus surrendered to a violent mob.  Jesus was taken before the temple court and then to the Roman governor who sentenced Him to die by crucifixion.  He was mocked and beaten and then nailed to a cross.  He died in agony, and His body was sealed in a tomb.

Two days later, the Disciples received reports from several people that Jesus was alive and well.  Suddenly, Jesus appeared in their midst and said, "Peace be with you."  For forty more days, the Disciples continued to follow Him and learn from Him.  Their hope was restored.  Jesus was back, so everything could go back to the way it was before those horrific days in Jerusalem.  Not even a brutal execution could stop Jesus.  Surely the defeat of the Romans and the restoration of Israel to its former glory was at hand.

And then... all of a sudden... Jesus was gone.

I cannot help but think that, as the Disciples stared up at the clouds into which their Rabbi and Messiah had just vanished, they asked themselves, "Now what?"

It could be said that the Disciples had stepped into a liminal space.  A liminial space is a threshold, a transitional space not unlike the interlude between one act of a play and the next.  The Disciples could not rightfully be called "disciples" any longer; after all, the teacher they had been following was now gone.  They had graduated from discipleship, whether they were ready or not.  No longer were they called to be disciples – people who follow – but rather apostles – people who are sent out on a mission.  Jesus had called them to take His message of hope throughout Jerusalem into the surrounding regions of Judea and Samaria and ultimately to the very "ends of the earth."

But not yet.

Not long before this, when Jesus and the Disciples were gathered together for a meal, Jesus instructed the Disciples to remain in Jerusalem until a certain promise of God was fulfilled.  Something had to happen first before the Disciples could set out on their mission.  Jesus told them that they would be "baptized by the Holy Spirit" and that this baptism, whatever it was, would empower them to do what they had been called to do.1  Until that time, they were to remain in the figurative doorway between discipleship and apostleship, waiting.

Like the men formerly known as "the Disciples," we all go through liminal spaces in our lives: we all go through times of transition and waiting.  Writer and professor Lauren Winner might refer to such a time as a "middle."  In her memoir Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis, she describes a "middle" as "the space, the years in between that which is no longer what came before and that which is not yet what will come later."  Though middles might feel like wastelands, they can be times of great creativity.  Middles might even be times of "winnowing" when the "wheat" of our lives is separated from the "chaff."2

These are the times in our lives when we find ourselves asking, "Now what?"

When I accepted my first job after graduation, I left a part of my life behind me and stepped into a liminal space – a middle – of my own which, over time, became a search for meaning.  No longer were the expectations of my parents the guiding force in my life.  Now, I had to discover meaning and purpose in life for myself.


While the Disciples were still staring at the clouds into which their Messiah had just disappeared, two men dressed in white – presumably angels – appeared and said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?  This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven."  (Apparently, in their neck of the woods, it's an everyday occurrence to see a person levitating to the sky and disappearing into the clouds.)  When we step into times of transition and waiting, as the Disciples did when Jesus ascended, we might not know what to do with ourselves.  Standing around with our heads in the clouds is not an option, for there is still work that must be done.

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis notes that people are often tempted to live either in the past through nostalgia or in the future through expectation or anxiety.  The truth of the matter is that the past is frozen in time while the future is ever in flux.  All we really have is the present moment, the only point in time that actually touches Eternity.  That said, we need only concern ourselves with the duties, trials, and graces of the present, as we commend both the past and the future into God's hands.  We only need to concern ourselves with the parts of the future that require our immediate preparation.3

Wherever you find yourself at the moment, I cannot tell you that better days are on the way, nor can I tell you that worse days lie ahead.  What I can tell you with relative certainty is that the next days are coming and that the next days will bring with them work that must be done.  I spent my first twenty-three years preparing for the rest of my life; now I spend time preparing for the weeks, days, or hours ahead of me.

The Disciples did not know what lay ahead of them, but they did know one thing: they knew that what once was twelve was now eleven.  They were down a man, because one of them literally sold Jesus out and then, realizing the disastrous consequences of his actions, gave up on himself.  For the Disciples, the duties of the present moment included the selection of a twelfth.  They discerned that the twelfth must have been a dedicated follower of Jesus from the very beginning of His ministry to the present day.  They narrowed their selection pool down to two candidates and then cast lots, praying that God's will would be done.  The lot fell on a man named Matthias, and he was chosen to become the twelfth apostle.4

The Disciples did one other thing while they waited for the promise of God to be fulfilled: they "constantly devot[ed] themselves to prayer."5  So often we think of prayer as asking God to do for us something that we cannot do for ourselves.  There is so much more to prayer than simply asking God to do our bidding "in Jesus' name."  Prayer opens us up to the presence of God and to the creative work that God is already doing in the world all around us.6  The Disciples knew that they were called to share Christ's message with the world, but they also knew that their time to do so had not yet come.  They had been instructed by Jesus to remain in Jerusalem until the coming of the Holy Spirit.  The Disciples didn't always fully understand the things Jesus said, so I would wager a guess that they didn't quite know what to expect in the days ahead.  They needed direction from God: they needed to be open to what God was doing.

Like the Disciples, I too sought direction from God.  Specifically, I sought a new direction that would guide me to the sense of purpose I did not find in my job.  The search drove me to try new things.  I became more involved in the Church.  I discovered the joy of writing.  Were it not for my searching, you would not be reading this.  Amid my search, there were even some times of persistent prayer.  In my search for meaning, I have found meaning in the search itself, and I have found meaning in the day-to-day work the search has brought into my life.

We might find ourselves in a liminal space following a change in circumstances; but we might also enter a liminal space after a personal failure.  Sometimes our question of what lies ahead of us is preceded by an admission of failure or defeat: "I blew it.  Now what?"  We stand in the doorway between downfall and whatever comes next, hoping and praying it includes a rebound of some sort.  We might even be tempted to give up on what we've started.  I think that, after Jesus' resurrection, the disciple Peter found himself in such a place.  While Jesus stood trial before the high priest, a fearful Peter denied that he even knew Jesus, just hours after he, in his bravado, proclaimed that he would die for Jesus.

One night, Peter made an announcement to the other Disciples.  He said, "I'm going fishing."  Nowadays, it's not uncommon for a person to go fishing simply to clear his head, but I wonder if maybe Peter was turning in his resignation as a disciple, having decided to return to his past life as a fisherman.  After a night of not catching fish, Peter and some of the other Disciples saw a man on the beach.  The man told them to try throwing out their net from the right side of the boat.  When they were unable to haul in the massive catch of fish, they immediately knew the man was Jesus.7  In the Bible, we read that, when Jesus first called Peter to leave behind his boat and his nets to "fish for people" as His disciple, He did so with a miraculous catch of fish.8  We also read that, when Peter was apparently tempted to give up on his calling, Jesus called Him back with the same miracle, saying, "Feed my sheep."

A liminal space might last for days, months, or even years.  Come September, it will have been seven years since I accepted my first job as a computer programmer.  Still, I have yet to decide whether to settle into my career as a programmer or to pursue an altogether different path.  The Disciples' liminal space between discipleship and apostleship lasted for a mere ten days.  On a day called Pentecost, something amazing happened that would change their lives forever, but that's a story for another day.

When we find ourselves stuck in the threshold between what was and what will be, unsure of what comes next, we must not keep our heads in the clouds.  Neither should we throw in the towel.  When you find yourself in this place, take a moment to remember the past, but don't forget that there is work to be done in the present.  Seek direction from God in prayer, and trust in God to guide you into the future.

Amen.


Notes:
  1. Acts 1:4-5
  2. Lauren Winner.  Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis.  2012, Harper One.  p. 60-62
  3. C.S. Lewis.  The Screwtape Letters.  ch. 15
  4. Acts 1:15-26
  5. Acts 1:12-14 (NRSV)
  6. Rob Bell.  NOOMA Open | 019.  2008, Zondervan/Flannel.
  7. John 21
  8. Luke 5:1-11
The photograph of my feet was taken by me at my alma mater.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Introspection: The Purposeless Undriven Life

I share these thoughts, hoping they are of help to someone else.


The Purpose(less) (un)Driven Life

Scripture:

So be careful how you live; be mindful of your steps. Don't run around like idiots as the rest of the world does. Instead, walk as the wise! Make the most of every living and breathing moment because these are evil times. So understand and be confident in God's will, and don't live thoughtlessly.

Ephesians 5:15-17 (The Voice)


Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead
Yesterday is a promise that you've broken
Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes
This is your life, and today is all you've got now
Yeah, and today is all you'll ever have
Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes

This is your life: Are you who you want to be?
This is your life: Are you who you want to be?
This is your life: Is it everything you dreamed that it would be
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose?


From "This Is Your Life" by Switchfoot


In the summer of 2007, I had a part-time job at the university from which I had recently graduated, and I was looking for something more permanent. I attended a job fair, and, when I saw the intimidating job requirements for computer-programming jobs at local businesses, I began to feel as though I was ill-equipped for the job market, despite having a bachelor's degree in computer science. Afraid I would be unable to find a job, I decided to take some daytime classes at a local technical college in order to pad my resume.

As soon as I started taking these classes, I was contacted by a small business in my town. After a couple of meetings, I was offered a job as a software engineer. My future boss and my future supervisor then informed me that they would not allow me to work part time while I finished my courses. I had my heart set on finishing these courses, and it was already too late for me to drop the classes and receive a refund. I didn't want to abandon my classes, and I had a bad feeling about the company, but, without any work experience as a programmer, what option did I have but to accept the job offer? Upset and frustrated, I drove to my alma mater to take a walk around campus. I decided to take the job, and, luckily, my instructors allowed me to finish the courses online.

It has been nearly five years since I faced that difficult decision, but many times since then I have found myself returning to the walkways of my alma mater to clear my head, to collect my thoughts, or to simply get some much-needed exercise. The cultivated landscape of the campus juxtaposed to the untamed overgrowth of the surrounding woods evokes a sense of oneness and harmony between humanity and the Creator.


Last week, I visited the campus once again for a customary walk. As I turned a corner and was struck with the vivid green of the trees and the grass, I felt a twinge of sadness within my heart. To be honest, this was not an isolated incident: it is actually somewhat common for me to feel a little sad when I walk around campus. At first, I thought that the sadness resulted from nostalgia, for so often I find myself wishing that I could turn back time to when I was a freshman in college and relive my college experience.

As I took a closer look at my feelings last week, I realized that the sadness I felt was not from nostalgia but rather from regret. I want to turn back the clock, not so I can relive my college years, but so I can redo my college years.

In May of 2009, when I attended the Salkehatchie Summer Service1 young-adult camp for the first time, I had the opportunity to spend an afternoon at the beach. As I walked on the beach, I saw a jellyfish that had washed up with the tide. I was reminded of an illustration I heard from one of my teachers when I was in school. Jellyfish typically don't swim: they simply float with the current. Because of this, they sometimes end up in undesirable situations, stranded on the beach to die, for example. Similarly, people should not float through life aimlessly, else they might suffer a fate similar to a beached jellyfish.

I had come to a personal understanding of that analogy, because I had been floating through life. The truth is that I had no ambitions, no aspirations, no hopes, no dreams, and no plans for my life: I simply did what was expected of me. I was always expected to attend college, so I attended college. I majored in computer science because it would enable me to get a job, as I was expected to do, though I knew, deep down, that I didn't really want a job in that field. I did what was expected of me, not putting any thought into what I truly wanted to do. I floated through college, and, instead of pursuing a life I truly loved, I became another "working class hero."

A few months after I graduated from college, I accepted a job as a computer engineer with a casino vendor. One evening shortly after I accepted this job, I took another walk around my alma mater and found myself feeling somewhat lost. I had done everything that was expected of me: I finished college and found a job. Now what? The recurring aches I experience while walking around campus had begun.

As time went by, my first job as a computer programmer turned out to be a job I really did not want, a job I hated telling people I did, a job I could not take seriously, a job that demanded more from me than I was willing to put into it. It was at this time in my life I realized the error of my ways. By floating through college, I had let a world of opportunities slip through my hands.

Each participant at the work camp I attended was asked to try to find a symbol that represented his or her experience. I chose the stranded jellyfish I had seen and confessed to everyone that I had floated through life and ended up somewhere I did not want to be. I told everyone that we all need to find the divine current in life, the path Christ has prepared for us, and to swim with it with all we have.2

This is why I experience feelings of longing when I take walks at my alma mater. This is why I want to rewind my life and redo my college experience. To be honest, I would actually need to rewind my life a few years beyond that. Not only did not fully engage my college experience, I did not fully engage my high-school experience either. For eleven years, I went to a religious school with strict rules and a "hellfire-and-brimstone" theology. I graduated at the top of my class, but, by the time of my senior year, I had already "checked out" in every other way. I feared hell more than I loved God, and I felt that, if I were to truly be a Christian, I would not enjoy life very much.

Furthermore, during my senior year I failed to prepare for college. I did not take the SAT until March, so it was already too late to apply to the colleges of choice, and I still did not have a driver's license. I ended up taking a year off between high school and college, and, besides being accepted to the only college to which I applied, the only thing I accomplished that year was completing driving lessons.

I wish I could rewind the last fourteen years - the latter half of my life - and do everything over again, knowing what I know now. I wish I had worked out my religious issues so that I could truly make the most of my high-school experience. I wish I had entered college with some sense of direction in life so that I could find a true calling and not just a job.

Jesus once told a story about three people who are each entrusted with a large sum of money. Two of them invest their money aggressively and double the amount they were given, while the third plays it safe and buries his money. When their boss returns, the first two are rewarded, and the third is severely punished.3 In this story, the rich man divvies up his money in amounts ironically called talents, but I believe that this parable is about so much more than how people should invest their money or their abilities. I am convinced that this story is about how people are called to invest their entire lives.4

Some people seek out their passion, that thing that drives them; they grab life by the horns; and they pursue their calling with all the gusto they can muster. These are the people represented by the first two servants who invest their talents boldly. These are the people who truly invest the lives God entrusted to them. Meanwhile, there are other people who simply drift through the currents of the world around them or end up burying themselves in a meaningless rut, letting life pass them by. Like the useless third servant, they bury all of their God-given potential and waste their lives.

I confess that, for much of my life, I have lived like the useless third servant, for I buried myself just like the servant buried his talent. I didn't do the hard work necessary to figure out what drives me, and I didn't seek out the path God was calling me to take in this life. I wasn't bold or adventurous enough to seek out new opportunities or to explore the God-given potential that lay sleeping within me.

Sadly, I will never have the chance to go back into the past to fix the mistakes I made in my life. I will never be able to recover the years I wasted drifting through life. I am still living with the regret of wasting the opportunities I was offered when I was younger. The good news, though, is that I do not have to keep making the same mistakes I made in the past. I am still alive, so it is not too late for me to do something with my life.

I am thankful that God gave me the opportunity to work in the gambling industry, for it taught me the consequences of living without purpose or direction in life. When I was laid off from that job, I sought another programming job, but I put more thought into where I wanted to work. I found a job in higher education, and, though I cannot say I am passionate about my job, I can say that now I take pride in what I do. Also, since I realized the error of my ways, I have unearthed and developed parts of myself that lay dormant, and this blog is proof of that. Thankfully, I have people in my life who believe in me and are pushing me and encouraging me as I explore these new pathways in my life.

In Jesus' story, the rich man invited the two servants who invested boldly to "enter into the joy of [their] master." The rich man sent the lazy third servant "into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."5 I can personally attest to the fact that, when one drifts through life into a dark place where he or she does not want to be, there is indeed a great deal of "weeping and gnashing of teeth." I can also attest to the fact that there is indeed joy in finding meaning and purpose in what one does.

I am convinced that usually the things we leave undone will come back to haunt us more than our missteps.6 To you the reader, I encourage you not to drift through life, but to live with purpose. If you are drifting right now, realize that, like a jellyfish stranded on the beach, you might end up somewhere you do not want to go. Instead, find what drives you and pursue your calling with all you have. If you have missed out on opportunities in the past, realize that regret does not have to be the end of the story, for while you are yet alive it is not too late to turn your life around.


Notes:
1 - http://www.salkehatchie.org/
2 - To read what I said that night, see my introspection "Jellyfish and Currents."
3 - Matthew 25:14-30
4 - For more thoughts on this reading of the Parable of the Talents, see my perspective "A Life, Unearthed."
5 - Matthew 25:23,30 (NRSV)
6 - If you want to see my scriptural basis for this belief, read all of Matthew 25.


The photograph of the landscape was taken by me at Furman University.  The photograph of the jellyfish was taken by Lee R. Berger and is used under the GNU Free Documentation License.


If you have any feedback, thoughts, stories, or even arguments to contribute, please leave comments.