Waking up Late

I’ve been reading a fun little mystery novel lately that’s been enjoyable, but no more. And then today during my lunch, I ran across a conversation between the “detective” priest and a nun that really resonated with me. Their conversation deals with how each of them came to dedicate their lives to the church as young adults. The nun, in particular, shares her personal journey as a young, devoted nun who eventually left the cloister to live in Seville, still keeping her vows and living her faith and not renouncing her order, but not living the typical nun’s life. As I read her story, something she said really resonated with me because it summed up so perfectly a core element of my personal spiritual journey to where I am now.

She says, “What can a nun do when she realizes, at age forty, that she’s still the same little girl dominated by her father? A child who, out of intense desire not to displease him, not to commit any sin, has committed the even greater sin of not really living her own life. Is it wise, or is it stupid and irresponsible, at eighteen, to renounce worldly love, and with it trust, surrender, sex? What is a woman to do when these feelings come too late?”

In her case, the father was her biological father, but in mine it was God as my Father. Now, of course, I don’t feel He ever “dominated” me, but the rest of what she says is spot on. Out of my intense desire not to displease Him, not to commit any sin, I committed the greater sin of not living my own life, of not daring to make a mistake and need His grace, of not spreading my wings and taking flight into the wonderful mystery of my truest dreams and passions. For so many years I tried so hard to be so good, and I never felt truly satisfied that my standards of “good” (which I also thought were His standards) had been met. Like her, I devoted myself while I was too young to really understand that I was renouncing my life. Not that I think renouncing one’s life for Jesus is a bad thing or a waste. But I think that, in my case at least, the life I renounced was more what I thought He wanted, not what He was actually looking for. And then as time went on and my devotion didn’t produce the wholeness I sought and my deeper passions started to surface, and my idea of what a meaningful life would look like began to really take shape, the reality of what I had found began to truly pale.

Let me put this in more concrete terms in the hope that it will make more sense. When I first dedicated my life, I knew in my heart that God had a special purpose for my life. I knew that I was “called” and created for something special. That part I still believe was from Him, and I don’t doubt that it’s still true. But back then, I was afraid of making a mistake or doing something wrong or exploring all that was around me, so I automatically assumed that the purpose I sensed was a call to full-time ministry, which in my mind, for a number of years, meant marrying a pastor, missionary or evangelist and serving faithfully by his side. As time went on, my understanding of ministry and the possible role I might have in it began to change. I was less focused on what my theoretical husband was called to do, though it wasn’t off my radar, and more aware of what my role might look like. However, I still saw us as working in a “full-time ministry” type of capacity. Wrapped up in all of this, of course, was my rigid sense of right and wrong, black and white. I lived a really good life and was constantly striving to live a better one. I didn’t do all the things good Christians weren’t supposed to do: swear, drink, have sex, smoke, do drugs, watch TV, fraternize with unbelievers, wear revealing clothes, indulge too much in thoughts about worldly pursuits, etc. I studied my Bible and read only Christian books and listened to nothing but praise and worship music. Even most regular Christian music was too frivolous. Only praise and worship would do. I had a calling and a destiny, and the only way to get there was too live an absolutely pure life, completely unsoiled by the filth of the world. How I expected to understand the needs of those I thought I was supposed to minister to, I don’t know. I certainly had no concept of the issues they were dealing with, but I just knew that the only way to be used of God was to be as unworldly as possible.

As I got into my late twenties, I started feeling a longing for adventure. I discovered a deep love of hiking, and as I continued to hike, I found a desire to be adventurous and explore my world. I also found that I really felt a drive to get to know “unbelievers” on a really deep, personal level. I wanted to be a part of their lives, helping them, strengthening them, being a true friend. And while all these new things were springing up in me, I was struggling with my own dissatisfaction and disillusionment, which I’ve shared about in the past. All that seeking and striving and longing and reaching had yielded a tiny fraction of the relationship I had longed to find with God. I was bone dry, empty, and losing hope. I realized I had spent most of my twenties waiting for God to jumpstart my life – the life I was convinced He wanted for me – and I was about to bump into thirty with nothing to show for any of it.

That’s when I started making mistakes and realizing that it was okay. I started feeling the undeniable internal demand to start living before it was too late. And I’m still trying to do that. I haven’t forsaken my God, though a lot of traditional folks would think so. I haven’t forgotten Him, and I haven’t stopped talking to Him. I still don’t want to displease Him, but I’m no longer so dominated by that desire that I don’t live my life. Some people would say that sounds like rebellion, and to them I’m sure it does, but honestly it’s more about being a child, free to grow and learn and make mistakes. Free to make choices and fall down and get up. Free to rethink the choices of youth and scrap the old assumptions that would have bound me in a destiny I’m not meant for. In so many ways I’m back at square one, but this time I get to start the game with the benefit of more knowledge. I still know there’s a meaning and purpose for my life. I still sense, even as I sit hemmed in by the three walls of my cubicle and sort through emails and go to meetings that I’m not meant for this. I’m meant for something more. My life wasn’t initiated with these barriers in mind. But this time, I will listen, and I will explore, and I will try new things, and hopefully I will do all of this without the burden of my old convictions that I know where I’m headed and what I’m supposed to do. And I may take some wrong paths. I may find that this avenue or that seemed right but turned out to be something that wasn’t the perfect fit. But at least I will try those roads before ruling them out, and I will live this life, not wrap it up in a neat little box where it will scream to be let out until I have quietly suffocated it.

Anyhow, didn’t mean to get into it all that much. I really just wanted to share the quote because it really resonated with me. LOL. But I’m long-winded so… Here’s to LIFE!