Confession - Ability, Humility, and Giftedness

I am heading home after a difficult day at work. Nothing bad happened. I actually accomplished a lot. The snow didn't drive me homewards. I wrote a letter of recommendation, talked to someone about a wedding, prepared for and led a church meeting, worked on a jurisdictional event, prayed, and did general office work. Yet, sometimes I wonder what gifts God has given me, and I am never sure if I use them to the best of my ability. I've been struggling with living a much deeper spiritual life - trying to stick to fixed hour prayer, praying an hour a day for my church, and being more intentional about my body and health. For all of that, and it has been fantastic, I still struggle with things. Are they idols I won't let relinquish? Or, is it humility that I want only the best for the people I serve and to whom I attempt to minister?

As I look back on this note, I notice the word "struggle" is overused, but it is the correct word in every place. What is this struggle about? And, how can I stay in it to the end where I, hopefully, will find a new strength and trust in what I can do, find strength in what I actually do, and trust how God uses me in the world?

I sometimes wonder if I'm the only one I know who lives with internal struggles. Don't get me wrong: I'm strong-headed, pretty sure of my intellect, and I have firm beliefs about certain things. I'm not a pushover. But, in those deep places of the soul, there remains an uncertainty about a lot of things in which I believe I should be more grounded. On good days, this manifests as awe. I ask, "How is it that I serve a beautiful congregation that deeply loves God and yearns to serve the world?" I marvel that I've been entrusted with people's stories, their joys, their pain, and their hopes. On other days I doubt.

In a struggle for faithfulness, I hope that I am not doubting God. Yet, in a way, I know that must be what is happening. In doubting my giftedness, am I not also doubting God's ability to use this cracked vessel of a life that is mine? I suppose that this is a confession: "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief." Perhaps someday, maybe even tomorrow (?), I will face the world in awe instead of fear.

"A Blessing of Solitude" - John O'Donohue

With all that is going on in the world, I thought of this poem by John O'Donohue. Found in his book "Anam Cara" in the section "One of the Greatest Sins is the Unlived Life," he writes:

"The shape of each soul is different. There is a secret destiny for each person. When you endeavor to repeat what others have done or force yourself into a preset mold, you betray your individuality. We need to return to the solitude within, to find again the dream that lies at the hearth of the soul. We need to feel the dream with the wonder of a child approaching a threshold of discovery. When we rediscover our childlike nature, we enter into a world of gentle possibility. Consequently, we will find ourselves more frequently at that place, at the place of ease, delight, and celebration. The false burdens fall away. We come into rhythm with ourselves. Our clay shape gradually learns to walk beautifully on this magnificent earth" (124-125).

To help us find that "world of gentle possibility" and to help our clay shapes "walk beautifully on this magnificent earth," he gives us this poem:

A Blessing of Solitude
-John O'Donohue

May you recognize in your life the presence, power, and light of your soul.
May you realize that you are never alone,
that your soul in its brightness and belonging connects you intimately with the rhythm of the universe.
May you have respect for you own individuality and difference.
May you realize that the shape of your soul is unique, that
you have a special destiny here,
that behind the facade of your life there is something
beautiful, good, and eternal happening.
May you learn to see yourself with the same delight, pride,
and expectation with which God sees you in every moment.

mother teresa - the role of doubt

By now most people have read about the crisis of faith that struck the great Mother Teresa for approximately fifty years. It seems that just about the time that she moved to Calcutta to work among the poorest of the poor, she lost her connection with God - at least the kind of connection to which she had grown accumstomed, the kind that is personal and intimate. A new book is out - "Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light" - that opens to the public a series of her private letters containing her darkest moments of doubt and loneliness.

What is the role of doubt in a life of faith? How do crises of faith affect our belief and our sense of wholeness in life?

For more on the subject, take a look at this article in TIME magazine.