On Vocation, or Why I Love Football

"Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world's deep need." - Frederick Buechner

I happened to be watching football yesterday afternoon, and I thought I would try to describe what it is about football that speaks to my soul.

I know that sounds a bit extreme, but I was lying awake last night, my brain going round and round in circles from one topic to the next. It finally landed on football, and I fell asleep dreaming of perfect passes, epic runs, and beautifully choreographed plays. I could just see Peyton Manning's perfectly executed pass floating into the arms of Demaryius Thomas in the corner of the end zone right over the head of his defender. I could see Dexter McCluster running back a punt for an 89-yard touchdown like he was out for a jog in the park, completely oblivious to the Giants players falling down around him. I could see the offensive line for both the Chiefs and the Broncos working in sync to protect their quarterbacks, letting them focus on the field opening up ahead of them instead of on the linemen trying to take them down.

It's not just football, though.

Can you see it too?

In my mind's eye, I can see the frisbee float through the air right into the arms of the intended receiver, the defender helpless to prevent a goal. I can feel the moment when I see a play about to happen and reach out for an interception just as the passer lets go of the frisbee.

I can hear the band from chapel as the piano notes soar over the rhythmic foundation laid by the congas and guitars, accenting the perfect harmony of the vocalists.

I can hear the words and phrases of Barbara Kingsolver's most recent book, Flight Behavior, as she so perfectly described the sense of isolation and entrapment felt by stay-at-home-moms, the endless worries about money on the minds of the working poor, the dismal state of our planet after years and decades of abuse, and the hopelessness of bridging the gap between scientists and politicians, college grads and blue collar workers, and rural and urban dwellers.

Over and over, I relive those miraculous moments when the universe seems to align for something magical to happen. Whether it is the carefully practiced connection between an NFL quarterback and his receiver, the split second defensive reaction to intercept a frisbee, the unity of a band whose members have only just met making a song come alive, or the precision of a gifted author describing another person's world, I replay them until my mind is at peace.

Those moments are Frederick Buechner's definition of vocation.

I'm really enjoying the work I've been able to do helping authors birth their books. I'm enjoying writing sermon discussion questions, helping small group leaders translate a one-time Sunday morning sermon to a lifetime of change. I hope that I can do these jobs with the same grace and focus as Dexter McCluster when he runs from one end of the field to the other like it's no big thing, barely giving the defense a moment's glance. I hope that I can fulfill my own vocation with as much dedication as a quarterback and receiver practicing the same pass over and over ad nauseam so that at the decisive moment, the completion looks effortless.

More than my own work, though, I give thanks to God for the ongoing invitation to participate in creating a world where magic happens. Where sometimes our work is tedious and difficult, but sometimes it is electric and inspiring. Where our deep gifts occasionally meet the world's deep need.

I did manage to give birth to this kid. That was pretty epic.

A Little Sleep, A Little Slumber

"A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest--and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man." - Proverbs 6:10-11

I am here to tell you that a little sleep is a beautiful thing. I think Solomon may have over-exaggerated the dangerous effects of sleeping. I mean, you can't stay awake all the time!

For what seems like an eternity (maybe like two weeks, really), Amos has been waking up between 4:00 and 4:30 in the morning. That is too early. This morning, he slept all the way until almost 6:00. What a relief to have an extra hour and a half of sleep! I had no idea how tired I was until I suddenly wasn't.

One of the dreaded phrases for new moms is, "Treasure every moment." Let me tell you, this is a marathon, not a sprint. Wildly treasuring every moment will leave you completely exhausted and unable to treasure any moments. If I can treasure one moment a day, I'll call it a win. And today's moment (so far) was waking up to silence instead of crying and gradually realizing that the time on my clock started with the number 5. When I did hear Amos making his little noises, I was eager to go say "good morning" to my baby boy and see his morning smiles.

Ahh...the peace of a sleeping baby.

News From the Home Front

"[Barbara Kingsolver]'s a keen observer of the messiness and unexpected beauty of the quotidian." - Cleveland Plain Dealer, review on Kingsolver's latest book, Flight Behavior


I have been a little delinquent on writing my blog. I can't place the blame entirely on my hubby, but he did have sinus surgery last Friday and was home all week recovering. In theory, having another person around the house should make my life much easier, but not when that person spends most of the day in a drug-induced haze trying to convince me that I should sit on the couch with him and watch tv. Even so, it was really nice having him around all week to talk to. I kind of miss him today (his first full day back at work). Since I'm a little out of practice at blogging, I thought I'd just share a little of what's going on in our lives.

Michael
The good news is that the doctor went ahead and did everything he could to fix Mike's sinuses. They repaired his septum, removed a polyp, and cleaned out all the junk that had accumulated. Mike can already breathe better and the doctor expected him to be fully recovered by Friday!

The next step is repairing the hole in his eardrum, which has apparently been there for a while. I don't know how soon he'll have that done because he is ready to be well. He ran six miles one morning last June, got sick later that day, and has had various infections and illnesses since then.


Amos
Amos can clap now. He's pretty excited about that. When he wants to get someone's attention, he starts clapping his little hands together. If someone else around him claps, he grins from ear to ear.

He has also started rolling over a lot more. He has been on his stomach a few times now when I've gone to get him up from naps. I don't know if he rolls over once and gets stuck or if he just gets tired of playing in his crib and starts to cry.

He is also eating lots of food! He eats a pear and a sweet potato almost everyday. He likes cooked apples a lot, but he does not like broccoli very much. Despite all that he eats, he is very small for his age, which in my opinion makes him even cuter.

Me
I got a paid writing gig! The job is only supplements for two Sunday School lessons through the Nazarene Publishing House, but I'm thrilled to be paid to write. And I'm thrilled to write for something other than my own amusement. I have to admit, I don't think I'm cut out to be a professional blogger. Unlike Barbara Kingsolver, I am not a "keen observer of the messiness and unexpected beauty of the quotidian." To me, it's all just the quotidian, not especially messy or beautiful. Maybe if I keep blogging I'll get better at that, or maybe I'll move on to writing more Sunday School curriculum.

I'm going to the gym regularly. I'm terrible at it. I'm usually the last one done with the workout. (Our gym is all classes; read more about my gym on this post.) I also use the lowest weights. At times I get discouraged, but the people are really nice and encouraging, and at the end of the day, I'm not there to win; I'm there to get stronger and healthier.

That's all the news from Kansas City, where the women are getting stronger, the men are very good looking, and the children are above average (in some respects, but below in others).

Enjoying some prunes and sweet potatoes.

A Baby Story

On occasion people tell me that I should write down stories about Amos so I don't forget them.

Here is one.

On Amos's two-month-old birthday, we took him to the doctor for his first round of shots (not counting the poke he got in the hospital when he was a few hours old). Unfortunately for babies, many of their first month birthdays are celebrated by shots. It's a good thing they don't know about Dairy Queen ice cream cake or they would feel very slighted.

Amos did really well at the doctor and even stopped crying pretty quickly after his shots. By the time we left the doctor's office, he was back to his normal content self.

That evening, we turned on The Biggest Loser. I began nursing Amos, and suddenly, in the midst of Alison's narration of some competition, Amos started screaming. He was definitely in pain. We discovered that his right leg was red and swollen where he had his shot. Every time I laid him down to nurse him, I laid him right on that painful swollen thigh. He did not like that!

We quickly righted him, but realized there was no way to hold him that did not apply some sort of pressure to his leg. Poor guy! His nice, trustworthy parents were suddenly torturing him. He cried and cried. We scrambled to find the instructions from the doctor to see what we should do. We couldn't find anything about nonstop screaming. Finally, we decided that Mike should go to the drugstore to get some children's Tylenol, and I would try my best to soothe Amos.

After hearing his poor pitiful cries for what felt like hours, I finally found a way to hold him that kept the leg elevated but did not apply any pressure. I did not move from that position. I felt my arms starting to cramp, but I didn't dare move until Mike got back with the Tylenol.

As I stood there holding a now quiet baby, I realized that Alison was still talking on the tv. How long had that been on? I looked at the clock and saw the time: 7:15pm. The show started at 7:00pm. Amos had been screaming his head off for all of 10 minutes. At that moment, I had a profound appreciation for parents of colicky babies who cry constantly. How do they survive?

Soon after, Mike arrived home with the Tylenol. We administered the infant dose to Amos, and not too long after he went to sleep. What a relief!

The next day I found on the paper that we were to call the doctor if the baby cried for three hours straight. Three hours!

Amos woke up just fine the next morning, and our calm, content baby had returned. We had survived our first crisis!

From this...

To this.

Problems Worth Solving

The other day I read one of the "trending" articles on Facebook about how awful it is to work in America. The article said that 70 percent of Americans have "checked out" at work and 20 percent actively hate it. People with higher levels of education are statistically more likely to be "actively disengaged." The writer suggested that the Philosophy 101 class where students are taught to ask questions like "What does it all mean?" might be part of the problem.

That stopped me in my tracks. Is there something wrong with education when it causes disengagement at work? Is there something wrong with the workers? Is there something wrong with the companies who employ over-educated, under-utilized employees?

I recently read an article in a copy of The Atlantic that I picked up at a garage sale about what we can learn from Japan's economic bust. The article is about an entire generation of young adults in Japan who embraced the failing economy of the 1990s as an opportunity to look outside the corporate world for employment and fulfillment. As the economy declined, what started out as freedom from long hours in Japanese corporations turned into poverty and long-term unemployment.

The article goes on to speculate on the long-term impact of losing an entire generation of new workers. These are young people not being trained in specific jobs as skilled workers, young people not participating in the national economy, young people not contributing creatively to the future of corporations.

I think this is a big problem. I've written about this before, but it is a very relevant issue in my life. I see a lot of young people who are not part of the mainstream workforce. Not only are they struggling financially, but I believe organizations are missing out on the opportunity for fresh and creative insight, as well as the opportunity to train young people to become competent workers in the future.

The Facebook article, however, turned my thoughts in another direction. Are young people also missing out on the opportunity to solve problems that their education has taught them are not worth solving?

I'm really writing on this topic because my dishwasher is broken. I have a lot of dishes in my sink that need to be washed, but my education suggests that things like washing dishes and clothes, cooking food, and sweeping floors are tasks not worth my time.

I wonder if both young people and corporations are missing out on important opportunities. Corporations may not be hiring young people, but young people may also consider the day-to-day work of corporations tedious and unimportant.

What problems are worth solving?

How to keep a house clean? How to effectively create and maintain documents? How to sell a product? How to create a product worth selling? How to turn labor into money?

The Facebook article represented a viewpoint that I hear constantly. It is one of injustice, of grumbling, of angst and worry over the present and the future. I know that many of my generation are unemployed or underemployed. We struggle with things like access to health care, concern over the world's food supply now and in the future, finding adequate, affordable housing, and providing care for our children.

However, I find the bitterness so common in my generation too easy to embrace. What is much more difficult is putting my education to use solving the problems in front of me. If I wash one dish every 30 seconds, and I have 25 dishes to clean, how long will it take to wash all of the dishes? The answer is: a lot longer than if the dishwasher worked, but less time than if I had no hot water. The answer is also: a lot longer than it would take to wash 5 dishes if that were all I had.

Has my generation too narrowly defined the problems we are willing to solve? Has that made us both unemployed and unemployable?

Here's a problem worth solving...

Bending the Sky

"He bent the sky and came down." - David

Anne Lamott suggested to her students that they write what they would like to come across. David wrote Psalm 18 to the Lord after the Lord "saved him from the hands of all his enemies and from the clutches of Saul." This is exactly what I wanted to come across today, so I will just pass it on:

"In my distress I called on the Lord,
  cried out to my God;
  in His temple He heard my voice;
  my cry to Him reached his ears.
Then the earth rocked and quaked;
  the foundations of the mountains shook,
  rocked by His indignation;
  smoke went up from His nostrils,
  from His mouth came devouring fire;
  live coals blazed forth from Him.
He bent the sky and came down...

"He reached down from on high, He took me;
  He drew me out of the mighty waters;
  He saved me from my fierce enemy,
  from foes too strong for me.

"With You, I can rush a barrier;
  with my God I can scale a wall;
  the way of God is perfect;
  the word of the Lord is pure;
  He is a shield to all who seek refuge in Him."

 - Psalm 18:7-10a, 17-18, 30-31

Last night at our small group, we talked about mundane things like our physical ailments, how to respect our spouses, the difficulties of participating in a large church, and the challenges of having children. Those things seem so insignificant compared to David's dramatic encounter with Saul, and yet they are still foes and they still threaten to overcome us.

It is so easy for us to be overcome by the mundane. For a struggling marriage to build bitterness and resentment that poisons other relationships. For a physical ailment to turn into mental and emotional apathy regarding the world around us. For a needy child to consume all of our time. For church difficulties to discourage us from receiving the gift of grace and joy found in the presence of God.

But when we call out to God, not only does he hear us, but he is willing to bend the sky, to move heaven and earth to save us. Sometimes he brings relief from physical difficulties or external circumstances, but he always brings the assurance that he is with us and that he is for us. He brings his strength to our weakness. He brings his love and peace to our hearts that are so easily turned inward upon themselves.

As we talked about our worries and fears, I think we found peace. We were surprised to hear that others had the same struggles. We were relieved to know we weren't alone. In our coming together asking for help, God bent the sky to come down and dwell in our midst.

Judges, Part 2

"Faith is jumping off the diving board and trusting God to fill the pool with water." - John Wimber (I think...I was unable to verify that)

 Last week's Judges sermon was about Jephthah. He is probably most well-known as the man who accidentally swore that he would sacrifice his own daughter. In a lot of ways, Jephthah seems like a failure as a judge, but his name made it into the "hall of faith" in Hebrews 11, so he must have done something right.

Benvenuto di Giovanni - The Meeting of Jephthah and His Daughter

One of our commitments in my Denver Bible study was that if it's in the Bible there is something of value in the story. If we don't see anything of value in the story, then it's not the Bible that needs to change; it's us.

As I read Jephthah's story, looking for his faith, an amazing picture emerged.

Jephthah was the son of a prostitute. His half-brothers kicked him out of the family because they didn't want to share their inheritance with the son of a prostitute. He joined a group of bandits and outlaws because in Old Testament times, there really weren't a lot of options if you had no land or family.

Eventually the elders of the Gileadites asked Jephthah to lead their army against the Ammonites. Jephthah's band of outlaws must have been pretty well organized if the Gileadites thought he was capable of leading their army.

The Spirit of the Lord came on Jephthah and he was able to move forward against the Ammonites. But on the eve of the big battle, Jephthah promised God that were he victorious, he would sacrifice the first thing that came out of his house to meet him when he returned home.

For we who have the stories of faith, both the ones in the Bible and our own, Jephthah's promise seems foolish because his victory against the Ammonites seems like a foregone conclusion. But Jephthah had no previous experience of God's faithfulness, no experience of God's victory in battle. He fought for everything he had, for food to eat and a place to sleep, for his position of respect in the community. A God who gives freely with no strings attached must have seemed impossible to him. So he offered a sacrifice, just to make sure he had all his bases covered.

Here is where the faith comes in: then he went to battle. At the end of the day, he had to have faith in the mercy of God. He had to jump off the diving board and trust God to fill the pool.

Mike told me that the book of Mark is filled with people who believed. It doesn't say they were perfect, that they never messed up again, or that they weren't afraid. But at the end of the day, they believed. And then they jumped.

Jump!

In my last angry blog, I came to the conclusion that I need to be okay with failing. I need to be okay with jumping and not knowing what the end result will be.

As I have reflected further, I think the church also needs to be okay with me failing. How do you build a church on the shoulders of failures? How do you constantly jump with no idea of the outcome?

I have also been thinking a lot about holiness (per Clemens Sedmak's suggestion), and I think that we sometimes define holiness so narrowly that avoiding failure is easy. If we can make a clear enough list of things to avoid, then all we have to do is avoid them, and we are sinless.

However, if holiness is connected with belief and faith, which is connected with jumping, then suddenly, holiness becomes a lot more risky and a LOT more difficult to claim.

According to NTS's own Dr. Noble, we often start with sin when we define holiness. What if we started with belief? What if the "litmus test" of holiness was answering the question, "how willing are you to jump"? How willing are you to fail?