the problem with burning bushes

I have this friend. Let’s call her “Anne,” just for anonymity’s sake.

Saying this summer was a rough one for Anne would be an understatement. This past year, in fact, has been pretty exhausting and frustrating for Anne. One of the most difficult and enduring obstacles throughout the year was a lack of clarity regarding where her life is going.

Everyone wants to know the direction our lives are going and what our purpose is in this vast, complex world. We do all sorts of funny things to try and figure it out. We read books. We try to interpret sloppy tea dregs at the bottom of mugs. We take online quizzes that promise to reveal our dream jobs. We scribble the pros and cons of our various options on handmade charts. We pester the people who are closest to us with “Well…you know me…what do you think I should do?”

And then we look for signs. That’s right. We look for signs to tell us what to do with our lives. I’m not just referring to religious people. Not just the superstitious or spiritualists either. Regardless of our beliefs, our faith, or our lack thereof, we all look for signs when we’ve lost our way and are desperate to learn who we are or why we’re here.

Underneath it all, I think most of us believe our destinies are caught up in something bigger than just ourselves. Regardless of what certain cantankerous philosophers have argued in the past (and present), I find it hard to accept that humans are intended to be solitary creatures who live out their miserable days, hopelessly disconnected from each other and living out a purposeless term of years. My life was and is not an isolated accident. I don’t exist simply to slog my way through a meaningless, short life until one day, my life spark is snuffed out by an accident, illness, or old age.

The truth is, we’re undeniably connected. Our lives are – for better of for worse – interwoven with all sorts of other peoples’ lives. It follows that our purpose is also not isolated; it fits into something beyond itself as well.

Which brings me back to the sign-seeking. We’d love it if some mighty higher power would take half a second of their time to reach down into our humble, mundane world and make it obnoxiously clear as to which direction we should pursue with our lives.

Hey, that’s not such a crazy idea, right? After all, the Holy Spirit settled into a bush in order to communicate with Moses, spontaneously igniting it (and probably raising Moses’ blood pressure significantly). God also struck Paul blind while he was walking down a road in order to get his attention. Very effective.

We joke about wanting a sign like that in our lives. Minus the blindness, of course. And the weird spontaneously burning vegetation, because that’s a definite fire hazard. In fact…don’t send a sign if it will inconvenience or unnerve us in any way…

Here’s the thing. Would you really want a sign if you actually got one? Would you even listen to it? Chances are, you’d sit there second-guessing if it really happened or if it was all in your head. And what if you don’t get the sign when you ask for it? Will you just use that as an excuse for further inaction and internal debate?

Let’s stop all this talk about signs for a minute. You want to know your life’s purpose? Here you go. I’ll hit the basics (take notes, if you’d like):

1. To be loved – by God and people – and love them all back. While you’re at it, try to love yourself too (not in the narcissistic, putting mirrors all over your house to stare at yourself all day kind of way. More like accepting yourself for who you are and not focusing on “fixing” unimportant things that never actually mattered). Your life’s primary purpose never, ever, ever had anything to do with a job title, certain level of income, being the best-looking, most popular, the list goes on and on. Never.

2. Every other part of your purpose flows out of #1. Look for jobs you love. Live in places you love. Find hobbies you love. I know, you’re not always going to be enamored with your circumstances. When your circumstances are making you want to tear your hair out, focus on Purpose #1, keeping your eyes and ears open for the next step to take.

It’s not like God’s sitting up there in heaven, laughing while He makes your life into an impenetrable maze. If you take a moment (or two, or three..) to reflect on who you really are and what you’re genuinely passionate about, you’ll eventually know what to do when you reach the forks in the road.

Or, you can sit on your bum waiting for the bush in your front yard to spontaneously ignite. Your call.

my top 5: things to fear at seminary

There are all sorts of inspirational sayings and quotes about not letting fear cast a shadow on your life or influence your decisions. Sayings like “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” [FDR]. There are numerous passages in scripture about standing firm against fear of people or things of this world and how God is the only one we should ever fear.

These quotes all sound great, really. Especially when they make it into movies as soundbites you hear while epic music is playing in the background and the hero is saving the day, against all odds.

Funnily enough, when it comes to real life, they don’t hold as much traction. Deep down, we’re all a bunch of scaredy-cats (in one way or another), trying to convince ourselves we have things under control as the world goes spinning by.

We especially feel fear when change is on the horizon. In barely over two months, I’ll be finished with my Americorps position in Jamestown. I’ll spend the rest of the year as a beach bum at my parents’ house in South Carolina. I can honestly say I’m not too afraid of that transition.

However, then I start North Park Seminary in January. New city. New place. New people. The fear associated with those changes are manageable to me. It’s being a student at the Seminary that’s flipping me out a little. After some thought, I’ve identified the top 5 things are making me nervous.

1. Actually being at Seminary

This may sound strange, but bear with me here. Firstly, I’m afraid of getting caught in the bubble that exists at pretty much every college campus or close-knit community. I don’t want my perspective to get so skewed that I stop paying attention to or caring about what’s going on outside of North Park. I definitely don’t want to get so comfortable there that I stop being challenged and lose contact with people who think differently than me.

I’m also nervous about the people at Seminary. I keep thinking they’re going to be wayyy too serious. Working at camp for 4 out of the last 6 summers , plus working with the youth at my church for the last 2 years, has kept me pretty young at heart (a.k.a. immature? That’s a good possibility..). Beyond that, I’ll be one of the younger students at Seminary. I feel like I’ll be laughing inappropriately during class and making jokes about all the wrong things, while my fellow students shake their heads and pray for me to grow up. I’m worried they’re going to try and make every conversation super heavy and deep. I can picture me in the corner, scheming about pranking my next door neighbors or plotting to run away from school on a pirate ship, while the other students are debating various theological doctrines and whatnot. This leads to my next fear, which is…

2. People wondering what on earth I’m doing in Seminary (and how I got in)

Funny thing is, I wouldn’t have guessed I’d end up in Seminary if you’d asked me a few years ago. Plans change. What I want to do with my life hasn’t changed drastically over the last couple of years, but my route to getting there has. I’m OK with that, and I’m OK knowing God’s plan for my life isn’t always going to match up with the ideas I had…but Seminary was kind of a surprise, even for me. If someone who didn’t know me well looked back on what I’ve studied (history, political science, and Spanish at a secular liberal arts school) and what I want to be (namely, that I don’t want to be a pastor at this point), they’d be understandably confused about why I am in Seminary. Some people don’t even think women should be in Seminary.

The reason I’m going back to school and the reason I’m pursuing two Masters Degrees at North Park (Masters of Divinity and Masters of Non-profit Administration) is so I can run a faith-based nonprofit organization one day. There are many other ways to do that beyond the route I’m taking, but I think this dual program between the Business school and Seminary is the best way to prepare me. I’m excited for all that I’ll learn at the Seminary (I get to study Hebrew, Greek, biblical studies courses, church history, and all sorts of things). I just need to keep remembering that despite my youth and the fact I don’t really want to be a pastor – in other words, despite the fact I don’t feel like I am going to fit the mold of a lot of the other students – the things that are different about me are only going to add to the community there.

3. College loans

Finances. Ew.

I am lucky enough to not be under a staggering amount of debt from undergrad, but I still loathe the idea of taking out more loans, even if they’re small ones. Psychologically, it’s painful to go from spending 2+ years (post-graduation from Allegheny) making money to reverting back to taking out college loans.

Technically, this can all be resolved by faking my own death at the end of school. However, that plan seems somewhat complicated and leaves too much room for disaster, so I guess I’ll just have to pay my loans back. Maybe I’ll be done by the time I’m 40 (fingers crossed).

4. Committing to a 4-5 year program

That’s right, you read that correctly. 4-5 YEARS. Do you have any idea how old I’ll be by then?!? 29. 29 years old. 29 times around the sun. 4-5 years is such a long time to be (mostly) in one place, doing (mostly) the same thing. I know I’ll get to leave to do internships, plus I’ll be living in one of the greatest cities in this country, but still…

Commitment is terrifying.

5. Last but not least, Wife-hunters.

If this one doesn’t sound like it’s a legitimate fear, you’ve clearly never met a single Christian guy who is deadset on finding a wife. As fast as possible. Factor in that the guys at Seminary are future pastors (who feel enormous pressure to find a wife before settling down with a congregation), and you should start to feel this fear too. I find it vaguely disturbing that currently my #1 reason I would want to get married soon is so I don’t have to deal with Wife-hunters and their crazy antics. They’re frightening in their single-minded quest to find a Mrs. and start a family.

I’m not anti-marriage or anything, but I don’t think people should get married out of fear that they have to be married by a certain age or life stage. And they definitely shouldn’t be obsessed with finding a spouse. It’ll happen when it happens…there’s no use in wasting the best years of your life scheming various ways to hunt them down and convince them to marry you.


That rounds out my top 5 fears and I think they're pretty legit at this point. It's not like I'm going to let fear stop me from going to North Park - I just think it's better to get my anxiety out into the open so it's not eating at my mind or growing any bigger than it already is. Like any other feeling, fear will fade away. One day, I'm sure I'll look back on this time in my life and not remember why I ever felt any of those fears; they'll probably look ridiculous. That's alright, since there's a little bit of the ridiculous in everything. I just hope I can remember that after I've gone through Seminary.

summertime in jimmytown

It’s a Friday in July.

Fridays are always lovely, but they become even more amazing once summer hits. Sitting inside an office on a sunny Friday afternoon isn’t the word-for-word Webster’s Dictionary definition for purgatory, but I’d argue it’s pretty close. I keep needlessly volunteering myself to run errands for people in my office that need to be done in downtown Jtown, just to get outside for ten minutes. That plan worked twice today, and I kept trying to make up other errands I could do. Volunteering to walk to Mayville yesterday to pick up paperwork we’re waiting for didn’t work out, strangely enough. (Maybe next week?)

I’m always surprised by how great summers are around here. Not saying the weather’s always perfect - this is still western NY after all - but summers can be incredible. The temperature usually tops off around high 70s/low 80s and we actually see the sun most days. This summer’s been beautiful so far.

According to the calendar, it hasn’t been summer for even a month yet. My calculations are kind of, well, we’ll just call them different. As in, it’s summer once it feels like summer. So I’m thinking it’s been summer since the start of June, once the persistent spring rains finally stopped pummeling Chautauqua County every day. Therefore, it’s been summer for a month and a half.

This summer’s definitely been different. And packed. I’ve spent a week in Pittsburgh with kids from my youth group volunteering with the Pittsburgh Project. [You should do it too! This ministry’s fantastic and has brought tremendous change in some neighborhoods in Pittsburgh.] I went to Cleveland to watch the Yankees play on the Fourth. [Pathetic loss to the Indians. At least the fireworks after the game were good.] I’ve done a bunch of the classic summer-on-the-lake things: sailing, kayaking, bonfires, wedding crashing, finding every excuse under the sun to go out for ice cream, the usual.

Oh, and I end up at camp the rest of the time. Surprising, I know.

Somewhere in the midst of all that I’ve managed to sleep a little, but I can’t remember when.

I think we all tell ourselves that summer will be a time when we'll relax, only do the things we absolutely must do, and let life slow down. That's not my reality at all. The truth is, I let all the boring-unfun-mundane-blech things that I never really wanted to do in the first place fade out in the summer, and I fill up all that open time with fun stuff. I've known this for a while, but I'm not very good at turning down an invite to go do something fun, so I've ended up filling every spare second with something this summer.

Until this week. I've actually managed to reign myself in this week and be intentionally anti-social a couple of days. Example: I turned down an invitation to go out to Wing City last night so I could stay home and read. Win! I went on a couple walks with Jesus (that may sound a little odd, but I pray better when I move). I went to bed before midnight.

Now that I'm all rested up and re-centered, I'll probably jump right back into my crazy schedule, but what else is summer for?! I'll sleep again once autumn hits.

where's the off button?

I find myself with an unexpected block of time in which I’m free to simply sit and think. This doesn’t happen all that often, and my mind is uncertainly fumbling around with this agenda-less, purpose-less window of time.

I’ve discovered that I have somewhat taken on my mom’s habit of chronically doing things at all times – I say ‘somewhat’ because I am (thank goodness) still able to at least sit down and enjoy watching a movie in a completely relaxed, reclined position.. whereas my mom inevitably finds some project to work on whenever she sits down to “watch” a movie. Five minutes into a movie, she’s baked 8 dozen cupcakes and sewed a quilt.

Anyways, as I sit here with the freedom to let my mind wander off to do whatever it wants or go wherever it will go, I am distinctly aware of how much my brain has been trained to focus, to produce something, to not just sit in idleness. (Hence…the creation of this blog.) The concept of a blank mind discomforts me. Clearing my head so it has no direction, no pursuit of anything, no aim – even for a little while – seems not only pointless, but almost alien to my nature.

However, it makes me wonder. I question why I function this way. Is this merely how I was created? Is this how I’m supposed to be, always letting my mind roll, move, and turn things over? Or maybe this is a symptom of how my environment’s affected me. Does living in America often do this to a person – the land of productivity, efficiency, innovation, workaholics, the American Dream of single-mindedly reaching for more and more and more…?

Most of my blogs have ended with some attempt at answering questions or probing for a deeper understanding of whatever I’m experiencing. After all, that’s how we’re taught to write – you pick a topic or make an argument, then meld it to fit into the format of an introduction, body paragraphs, and a conclusion. (I’m doing it right this moment.)

Only, this time my ‘conclusion’ doesn’t really have any answers in it. No thrust of an argument, no hypothesis, no sweeping statement of why this is this or that is that. I’m just curious as to why my brain is always twisting and turning, constantly restless, forever reaching toward something or another. Why I can’t naturally grasp or embrace a deep sense of stillness and be OK with a mind that’s not in motion. Even when I pray, there’s no prolonged period of quietness or waiting for something; I’m continually seeking something out.

This isn’t to say I’m never a peace with things – I often am – but I just haven’t learned how to let my mind rest without an agenda, a goal, an inquiry. I have this hunch that there’s extraordinary value in the ability to sit and let things wash over you, instead of eternally chasing our waves of thought back and forth. I’m just not sure how to do it yet.

on letting go

The last year or two of this pseudo-grownup life has taught me plenty of lessons. I haven't been especially well-prepared for any of them, but I have managed to survive them all so far (keep your fingers crossed for me).

Recently, due to a variety of circumstances in (or surrounding) my life, I have been forced to deal with the tragic necessity of letting go. This lesson has included several different forms of letting go - there are many forms of moving on that we may have to face - specifically letting go of an era in my life that is passing, moving on from a role that shaped a big part of my identity for some time now, and witnessing friends who have to let go of important relationships.

Letting go is one of those exercises in life that we all abhor on different levels. It's not just change that frightens us, or simply an aversion to losing something or someone; it's the fear that when we move on from something (especially something we love), we are letting of a thing that is essential. We are afraid we may somehow become less than who we were previously, or that an irreplaceable element of our life has been forfeited forever. We anxiously wonder if we'll ever be able to find something or someone as good as, or better than, what we have left behind. To put it simply, we worry we cannot reach that level of happiness and contentedness we had before. [Sidenote: is contentedness a word? I feel like it should be, if it isn't.]

Honestly, the biggest part of this lesson so far has been that you don't always get the answers you want when you are being compelled to move on. As humans, we're kind of.. limited, to put it kindly.. when it comes to the hard questions we face when we have to let go. Why did they have to die now? Why do we have to move? Why don't they love me anymore? Why can't I work here longer? Why can't I stay in college forever and ever and ever...?

Seriously - who can answer this kind of question? [The staying in college question is the only one that may be answerable.]

There is so much we want to understand that we cannot fully grasp. Underlying all our cries for answers, however, there is one question that supercedes them all, one that touches the root of our real inquiry:

Why am I powerless to stop this?

That's the bitter root of the 'letting go' dilemma. We want so desperately to run the show that is our lives, and we cry foul if it starts to twist towards a different direction. We kick and we scream and we hurt - we hurt so much - because we're powerless to stop our life from changing course. We reach back and grasp for what we had, what's slipping away, and we won't let go until the pain of reaching back has exceeded the pain of moving forward.

Taking a step back and looking at this, I see it's a pretty bleak picture I've just painted. Well, letting go is pretty bleak sometimes. There's no point in sugar-coating it or pretending it's something that it isn't.

There are two big factors, however, that I haven't mentioned yet; two key parts to this letting go struggle. The first one is God, who, if you know me well, you know we're kind of tight. He has answers to questions I haven't even asked yet.. and I ask a lot of questions. He also has the slight advantage of knowing where my life's going, so He doesn't freak out when I have to let go of something in order to move on. The second factor is a gift from God - Time.

That super cliche, over quoted phrase "time heals all things" is sort of spot on. Getting that distance from something or someone you loved, but had to let go of, will eventually dull the terrible pain you felt. Time can give you a kinder perspective on things, and it helps you realize that you will make it through. You will survive this moving on process. Better yet, it helps you see that one day soon - after just a little more time has passed - you will be genuinely happy again.

growing pains

If someone was to read through my blog, they might be left with the impression that i had (for the most part) successfully adjusted to a Grown-up's life.

In a lot of ways, I have definitely acclimated to this different life over the past two years. I don't see any benefit to dwelling in the past, longing for the way things were in college, or even before that. The only healthy option is to move on and keep my eyes wide open for the good parts in the newest chapter of my life - and there are a lot of good things.

This all sounds pretty reasonable so far, right?

Well..I recently hit a snag in this whole 'healthy, forward-moving, well-adjusted' attitude. The catalyst for this setback was last weekend.

For any of you who live around here, you'll know that last weekend was basically a quick taste of summer. The weather was beautiful, Memorial Day's a week away, and Chautauqua County is finally waking up after an eternally long winter and a sloppy, cold spring. I got to spend all sorts of time with my friends, go hiking in the gorge, lay out in the sun, and stay out much too late in Bemus.

And then Monday hit. It felt like I was abruptly clotheslined by the reality that not only was my two-day taste of summer over, but summer as I've know it for the last 23 summers does not apply to my life this year. For the first time, I will be working indoors this summer at an office job. What makes this a particularly bitter pill to swallow is that 4 out of my last 5 summers were spent at Camp Mission Meadows - which I have absolutely loved - and it's harder to let go of than I'd anticipated.

Now, I have to pause for a moment and run down another trail of thought. In order to give a balanced perspective on all this, I need to mention that I'm lucky enough to like my desk job. I've learned a ton over the past 7 months about both my hometown and the challenges faced by the most vulnerable and economically impoverished part of the population. I've discovered more of my own limitations, gifts, and how I want to help make an impact in this broken, crazy world during my rather short stay here.

Unfortunately, keeping a positive perspective (i.e. one in which I focus on the good things about my current situation, as opposed to what I'll miss about camp) has taken quite a blow as summer approaches. For the last few days, my mind's been wrapped around thoughts of Mission Meadows and all the people I will miss there. That place - more accurately, that ministry - has commandeered such a large part of my heart that as June approaches, it's starting to sting as I attempt to reconcile myself to not working there.

No matter how much I like my current job, working at camp blows most jobs out of the water. I love being outside, being active, living around a ton of people who just genuinely want to have a great time, take care of each other, and seek out God through everything. Over the years, I've seen so many people changed, built up, and restored by that ministry - and I know that's not something you can find just anywhere.

In the end, I know I'll be fine (I always am eventually). I'll still get to spend plenty of time at camp on evenings and weekends. Plus, I have a lot of other things to look forward to this summer, like watching the Yankees crush the Indians at Cleveland and spending a week in Pittsburgh. Beyond that, there are even some advantages to not working at camp. I'll have more control over my time and schedule. I won't drive myself to sheer exhaustion by the end of the summer. I can sleep in my own bed, eat what I want to eat; basically, I'll get to take better care of myself this summer.

Honestly, all those benefits I just listed sound rather hollow and substanceless right now, but I've simply got to keep my eyes trained on the positive stuff. Ultimately, everything comes to an end, including working at camp. I can either handle it with grace or get mired down in wistful nostalgia, it's my choice.

Lately, I haven't exactly felt like handling it gracefully...or with any kind of maturity. I hear this crazy voice (everyone hears that once in a while..right?) telling me to run as fast as I can to escape any commitment that's weighing down on me and just do what I want. It tries to tell me that I'm trading in my dreams and ideals for security and some "normal" life. It tells me that if my life isn't filled with adventures all the time, then I'm selling myself short of the life I actually want.

The problem with that crazy voice is that it only speaks up when I'm discontent. I know I'm not basing my decisions on simply what's safe, secure, stable, "normal," or anything resembling that. I'm not steering my life towards dreams of wealth, a 401k, a husband and 2 kids by age 30, the white picket fence/American dream that so many people (still!) think will completely fulfill and satisfy them. Since I'm not chasing all that, I think I sometimes forget that just because some elements of my life seem to fit into that stereotype (namely, having a 9-5 office job), it doesn't mean I'm selling out to the average middle class ideal and abandoning the very different sort of life I want.

That's more than enough thinking for today. I'll end by chalking this whole internal debate up into this: sometimes I'm at peace with where my life's at, sometimes I'm not. There are times I yearn to put some roots down and just be still for awhile, and times I want to break all ties and let the current sweep me away to something new. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way; I think pretty much everyone does. All I can do is accept that I'm a work in progress who has so much to learn and live through, and I'm pretty excited to see how this life turns out.

quarter life crisis time

"Youth is not a period of time. It is a state of mind, a result of the will, a quality of the imagination, a victory of courage over timidity, of the taste for adventure over the love of comfort. A man doesn't grow old because he has lived a certain number of years. A man grows old when he deserts his ideal. The years may wrinkle his skin, but deserting his ideal wrinkles his soul. Preocupations, fears, doubts, and despair are the enemies which slowly bow us toward earth and turn us into dust before death. You will remain young as long as you are open to what is beautiful, good, and great; receptive to the messages of other men and women, of nature and of God. If one day you should become bitter, pessimistic, and gnawed by despair, may God have mercy on your old man's soul."

-General Douglas MacArthur, as cited in The Ragamuffin Gospel [Brennan Manning] p. 186

Lately, a few of my friends in their mid-20s have been experiencing what I refer to as a quarter life crisis. They've finally acknowledged to themselves that they're not exactly happy with their current jobs and/or circumstances, and that life post-college isn't heading in a direction they had dreamed of.

They're approaching a soul-searching crossroads, facing the choice between continuing on their currently uninspired path of comfort/safety/security/predictability/stability or veering off onto a trail of risk/adventure/transition/dream-chasing.

Should a person stick with the familiar, dependable, well-paying job they can tolerate but never love, or should they cut themselves (terrifyingly) loose so they can run after the job or life they've been yearning for?

That's the question at the heart of the quarter life crisis. For most college-educated people in their low and mid 20s, they honestly don't have to make many huge, gut-wrenching choices until they're finally out of school. Although college offers some freedoms, everyone's still integrated into a structure on many levels. The rubber doesn't meet the road until the structure disappears in the rear-view mirror and the vast, incomprehensible world is above, beside and before you.

What do you do? Do you keep seeking structure, stability, predictability, or do you cast all that off in the pursuit of something new and uncharted?

Since my unofficial goal is (and always will be) to be a pirate captain, I'm pretty consistent on how I advise these friends-in-crisis. I honestly don't believe I could be satisfied (long-term) with a job or career that didn't light a spark in me. I'm aware that not every job is going to be the most-perfect-amazing-inspiring-rewarding-fireworks-all-the-time job. It's inevitable that there are times when you just have to suck it up and slog through the murky swamp you're in, but I think you can choose to keep your chin up through it all and keep moving toward the deep, clear river you've been dreaming of your whole life.

I know my way of thinking about all this isn't the only way. Some people genuinely seem just fine working at a job they're not in love with. They find other areas in their life where they can pursue what they want, what makes them happy, what fills them up. That's great, for them. Then there are some people who will never be able to reconcile themselves to settling down and choosing security and stability over what they really want to do, however elusive and impossible that may seem to be. So they face a quarter life crisis - and in the long run, I think that's a good thing.

A crisis reveals what lies within you, what your strengths, fears, insecurities, and priorities are. A crisis shakes you up, spins you around, and knocks off all the insincere surface stuff you hid behind before. When it's over, you may be a little breathless and a bit humbled, but you certainly know yourself more than you ever did before.