Some days you wake up and it's all just too much. At times in this job, life and work seem frighteningly co-terminous, like a Venn diagram where the two circles are so overlapping they're practically one.I know that ministry is demanding, but this isn't the life I voted for.
Today I pulled myself out of bed with little or no energy for living; the tiredness spawning ten negative thoughts before breakfast. I am tired, not physically, but spiritually and emotionally. Tired of the drab grey shawl of responsibility which I wear as though it were my very skin. Tired of walking this lonely road with few companions. Tired of myself and what I seem to be becoming. Tired of carrying the weight of things I haven't managed to get done. Tired of feeling like my life is out of my hands. Tired of looking for a life in the middle of all of this. Today I could weep - and indeed have wept - at how utterly drained I feel.
Rosie, who knows me better than anyone, had the good sense to hear me out in the few moments we got together after breakfast. She is a wonderfully caring and strong person and I'd be lost without her. But this malaise runs deep. And my secret worry is that the problem isn't to do with ministry - it's to do with me, and my inability to order things well enough to follow this vocation and still lead a rich and fulfilling life. I don't think I'm any busier than anyone else in this line of work. Why is it I find it so hard to make room for those things that are life-giving?
I held all of this before God in a few quiet moments in the study this morning. It was good to be still for a while, though it felt like a guilty luxury. And in that stillness an unexpected memory surfaced.
It's the memory of a song I haven't listened to for years; a song called 'King of Birds' by REM. And what I was remembering wasn't just the song itself, but hearing it performed live when I saw them on the Green Tour back in about 1987 or 1988. Back then they were in their ascendency - all brash noise and jangling guitars - but in the middle of this raucous set they toned it right down and played this haunting, minimalist piece with Peter Buck on pedal-steel guitar. It was a truly magical moment - they held us in their hands and we knew it. Though you can find it on Document, nothing will ever compare to hearing it live in that context for the first time, and I doubt it would resonate with you in the same way.
Why that memory, though?
God, I need that surprise: that sudden connection with beauty. I need it to fill the cavernous, empty auditorium that is my soul and shock me into the realisation that something new and glorious and transcendent can happen to me again.
For whatever reason, that song (and one or two others) holds out for me a sonic vision of another world to which I know I belong, and which I'm heartsick for. The world where I am truly me, and you are truly you, and "all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well".
I caught a glimpse of that world today, from this dark place I'm in. And though it's not an answer, for now it's been enough.
Follow the link to see King of Birds performed live by REM.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49AMohGRtow
7 comments:
I know this feeling so well in myself; it sounds the same although I can't speak for how it feels.
I only did youth work for a year, but I know how every moment is filled, how you overcommit and compare yourself to people doing the same work and flagellate yourself for not being good enough... it was nothing like "life in all its fullness" and it wasn't good for me.
Do you have a sabbath? God recommended taking one day off in seven to remember that we're still human and that He's still God. A day off every week sounds impossible, but that's the prescription and it does the soul good to rest.
I'm praying for you honey, I hope you find the joy and peace that Christ has promised.
(For me, it's Snow Patrol that offers a window into Home. I get homesick too.)
"well your my friend
(it's what you told me)
and can you see
(what's inside of me)
many times we've been out drinking
and many times we've shared our thoughts
but did you ever, ever notice
the kind of thoughts I got
well you know I have a love
a love for everyone I know
and you know I have a drive
to live I won't let go
but can you see it's opposition
come arising up sometimes
that its dreadful and position
comes blacking in my mind
and that I see a darkness
and that I see a darkness
and did you know how much i love you
is a hope that somehow you,you
can save me from this darkness"
(will Oldham)
your blog
made me think of this song
and made me feel
like hearing the voice
Of a friend
singing in another cell.
we're not beaten yet brother
we are more
than the failure
and frustrations
that clip our wings,
and we who take the words
of other peoples sad songs
will yet join them
to make a joyful one of our own
and we shall fly.
peace to you
paul
Thanks to you both. It got better.
FBL
fbl - I have a sketch on my wall, from the story people, that says: "some days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling rain and remember it is enough to be taken care of by myself."
Go and be decadent for a change!
Liz, I know what you're saying, but it's hard to just disengage and be decadent when you've three lovely kids under seven (one 10 months). Making time for them and Rosie is hard enough; making any time for myself is even harder.
I know this will pass and it'll get better, but it feels like we're all knackered all the time.
Answers on a postcard, please....
FBL
mmmm - I hear you fbl. Its never enough is it? No matter how much you give, how much you deny yourself, there will always be something more you wish you'd gotten around to. wish I could say it gets better. Surely this isn't what God wants of us - but its hard to see another way. Hang in there, pal.
FBL- I don't really know you but what caught me as I read your post was the little section where you say that you spent some time alone with your thoughts and felt a tinge of guilty luxury. I believe that if you want to give to others, you first have to receive yourself. Even Jesus took the luxury of private prayer. Maybe you could start with scheduling one hour each week, before anything else, just for you, and then work in the next important things from there. But keep that time "sacred"- don't let anything interfere with it. I bet your kids will enjoy spending time with "at rest" dad rather than "strung out ready to burn the house down dad" (if you find yourself near that stage ever?)... I don't have kids so perhaps this sounds unempathetic and idealistic. :)
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