Renewal

Perhaps it was the sudden onset of silence in a house so often filled with yelling, audible burping and tumbling limbs. Maybe it was simply exhaustion. But as I blew kisses into the damp air and watched the minivan round the corner, bound for Minnesota, I felt the crushing weight of despair, heavy like an x-ray apron, fold over my chest.

I’m ashamed to admit it, really. Me? What in the world do I have to despair about? My body is not crushed beneath tons of rubble. My throat is not parched for lack of water. I have not witnessed my country crumble. My city does not reek of the stench of rotting flesh. I have not held a dying child.

But I’ll be honest. Though it doesn’t compare with the unimaginable horror happening in Haiti and around the world, and I feel guilty even admitting it, I suffer nonetheless.

I’ve mentioned before, I’m a Triple Type A. But I’ve taken that personality quirk to a whole new level in recent weeks as I write, blog, research, comment, tweet – bent on forging connections, nurturing new relationships; driven to “build an audience” for my writing. Obsessed with doing everything possible to make that happen, and make it happen fast.

And I’ve done this at the expense of everything else in my life. Panty lines etch the rear-end of my pants, flabby bottom drooping from lack of exercise. My kids rattle stories, speaking to my profile as my fingers clatter at the keyboard. My neglected husband watches CNN as I hunch towards the computer screen, hour after hour, night after night. And my house? Let’s just say I walked through a cobweb in the bathroom this morning that would rival any in the Addams’ Family mansion.

So as I leaned heavily against my front door Friday morning, I felt something snap. “This is all wrong,” I thought wearily. “I’m done. This can’t be right. It’s not worth it. This can’t be what God possibly wants from me. It’s too hard. It’s too consuming.”

I trudged through most of my weekend, defeated and bone-weary, and then dragged myself to church yesterday morning. And there I heard God’s word as I never have before.

The reading was from Philippians 1 – the message about strength in suffering. And these are the words I heard:

“Most of the brothers and sisters, having been made confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, dare to speak the word with greater boldness and without fear,” wrote Paul, from the dark depths of his prison cell.

Paul realized that in some ways it was because of his suffering that people found Christ. And in hearing those words, I realized that simply knowing my God-given purpose doesn’t make fulfilling it any easier. Paul tells me that perhaps it’s not supposed to be easy.

That’s sort of a bummer, actually. I much prefer easy.

Here’s what Pastor Greg said about Paul’s lines – and this is the message that rolled to my ears like thunder from above:

“What is your purpose? What is it that you do, that when you do it, you feel, ‘That’s why God made me; that’s why God put me on Earth.’ Even in suffering, stay to your purpose, because God will use it for good. Don’t stop being about your purpose.”

That’s when I began to weep, right there in the middle of church, surrounded by strangers. Besides feeling embarrassed by my quiet snuffling and brimming eyelashes, I also felt badly for the man sitting next to me. I noticed he held a Southwood new member brochure in his hand, and I wondered if he thought perhaps Southwood was filled with weeping, sniveling, Kleenex-less worshippers.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is this: I left church feeling revived, my sense of purpose – to write my story of faith – renewed and reinvigorated. That’s not to say I won’t seek a better way to balance my life in the coming weeks and months. I hardly think God demands that I neglect my loved ones, and my rear-end for that matter, in order to fulfill a single purpose. But my God-given purpose, though it may not be easy, is renewed.

So what’s your God-given purpose? Is it clear to you? And how do you weather periods of trial in trying to fulfill it?

Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word;
I ever with thee, and thou with me, Lord.

from the hymn Be Thou My Vision

* * *

As a fitting sidenote, I'm pleased to say that my story, Canoe Day, which I posted here a couple of months ago, is being featured on BlogNosh Magazine today. Click over to read about the day I found I could pray.