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Part 08

3/9/2009 7:19:16 PM

Journal Entry

Each time God has called me to a certain place or task, I’ve felt good, soul-deep satisfaction.  Each time I’ve been given the leading that God is calling me away from, I become—not exactly restless—but it takes increasing energy to do what I’m currently doing.  It no longer fulfills, it no longer ‘fits.’  That’s where I am now and it’s hard.

On my way to work, I thought of the end of a book I read, where the hero must destroy something evil.  His friend, who is with him, will die in the process.  The friend joyfully tells him to go ahead, saying something like “I’ve been part of a glorious story.”  As I thought of this, I cried.  I think of endings such as these and then I think, “Is that all there is?  To be part of a glorious story?”

Does all our struggle here come to nothing when God creates anew?  Because if it does, I don’t understand the necessity for the struggle.  I know our sinfulness makes it necessary for us and this life to die—that nothing can survive the way it is.  And yet, to be part of a glorious story and then nothing.  What is bothering me about this?

It’s like the movie ‘Deep Impact’ when the crew dies saving the planet.  When people are gone, they’re gone—and not all the nobleness of it makes up for death, for not being together and continuing to share the story.

Maybe what I long for is heaven.  A place where the glorious story doesn’t end.  Where I can feel connected in a way that doesn’t end.  A feast.  That’s a good picture.  Eating and drinking together in the joy of Christ, untarnished by human sinfulness and doubt and endings.

This life is a place of endings, and no matter how much you long for the new beginning that comes after, the endings hurt.  They cost.  You leave a little of yourself behind.  I guess that’s a description of something—some issue—not quite recovered.

I’m tired, constantly tired—a sign of depression.  As I work through things, sometimes I’m tired before I even get to work, and then I face a day of doing what I feel called away from.  This is the hard part.  I’ve been there before.  I’ve been here before.

I know what comes after will be such a blessing and that this is a necessary time of preparation, and there will be pure joy.  Maybe that too is a glimpse of heaven.  There will be such joy for what is that endings won’t matter.  I don’t know.

Does it bother me that we will know Christ?  There’s a tremendous sense of intimacy about that.  Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking about the movie “You’ve Got Mail.”  There will come a time when there’ll be no more mystery.  Is that possible?  And even though this time of not knowing carries its own unfulfillment, will knowing be enough?

I guess if it was anyone less than Jesus, no.  Or maybe, yes.  I don’t know.  The mystery is gone and now the hard work of familiarity ensues.

Maybe this all has to do with endings.  I’m concentrating more on that word than with the word beginning, which goes hand-in-hand.  In order to experience the joy of knowing, you must give up the sense of mystery.  But does that ever fully happen?  I don’t think so.  No one can ever fully know another.  This may be one of those paradoxes.

Journal Entry

I am really wrestling with something, and very depressed.  I got an e-mail from ----(a company that works with and publishes books for churches) that was somewhat discouraging.  My suggestion regarding a book on Kegan and conflict isn’t good, but they would be interested on one regarding communal ties, although someone else is currently doing similar research.

When I read the e-mail, I felt as I did when I found out I couldn’t get into the Ph.D. program without also getting a Master’s first (my Master’s of Divinity didn’t count).  Like a door slammed in my face.  I know the e-mail isn’t entirely negative, but I was left with the sense of a very closed system, and one that’s protecting its own butt.

The e-mail didn’t trigger the depression—I’ve obviously been working through something.  But it did deepen, or highlight, aspects of it.

As before, I’m angry.  I thought I was following God’s leading, and yes, pride crept in here and there.  I guess thinking of working with ---- is something like a Ph.D. program.  It would, in a way, remove me from the trenches, and I don’t think God ever intends to do that.  I learn too much here getting battered and bloodied.

In part, I’m very angry at the world.  I don’t want to have to fit into any system.  I feel like I’m finally finding my voice—free of interpersonal and institutional demands—and I don’t want to have to stuff myself into someone else’s mold.

I realize these are signs of transition, of defending.  I also feel that I have no place in the world, and even if I’m given a job, right now, that in and of itself won’t provide the answer.  Part depression speaking, part knowing no system can name me.

Journal Entry

Am I immersed in Kegan’s theory?  Or identify myself with the journey I’ve taken with this theory?  My reaction to ----‘s email was ‘if you discount this theory, you discount me.’  And then I also think, if I don’t have Kegan, I don’t have anything.  I can’t imagine not having this theory to work on, contemplate, etc.

I’ve been hanging on to this as my lifeline.  I must be willing to give this up also.  No barriers.  No conditions.  I’ve told God I’d give up anything, but the thought of putting this theory/this work aside, is painful, and I realize by my resistance, this has become my idol—that which I seek to identify myself through.  “I’m the Kegan expert.”  Even though I would have denied that and believed it to be true, I now see more clearly.

I’ve been seeking to identify myself through this work and that cannot be.  I’m a child of God and this is simply what I do.  Whether I work as pastor, teacher, mentor, writer, whatever, it’s not me.  I function without reliance on this system of thought, vocation, etc.

I think I needed the reality check of ----‘s email the way I needed the reality check of the Ph.D. thing.  I do not live for this work.  I live for God who gives me work to do.

Neither can I confuse my work with God, and love it for its own sake.  I love it for the sake of God, who leads, empowers, graciously gives me a longing to do his will.  But loving to do the will of God isn’t the same thing as loving the work.  But, boy, can it become blended and the clarity lost.

Journal Entry

Transition, growing, is really about giving up illusions, and when things get tough and I want to hang onto how I see, I need to ask myself: am I willing—do I want—my life to be grounded in illusions?

Construct is taking what is real and putting it together falsely, or incorrectly.

Maybe construct refers to how we take real things (like relationships) and organize them.  To say everything is a construct isn’t the same as saying it’s not real.

Journal Entry

I’m definitely working through something.  I felt yesterday the meaninglessness of life, and as Kegan puts it, the need to transcend the bargain somehow.  It’s really not a process that can be rushed.  I can only help it along by not fighting it—by being aware I’m in the process, thinking about it some—but I can’t hurry it.

I think those times I try to push to see, to grasp the understanding, are those times I obsess and God tells me to lighten up.

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