I Never Expected to Struggle with ‘Success’

The first part of this post was written in January:

It’s ridiculous to even type the title, because the truth is there is still a copious amount of stuff in my life that feels like failure.  I mean this.  Please don’t leave comments about how awesome I am or anything outrageous like that.  I’m not fishing.  In fact, it’s quite the opposite.  Let me explain…

Every year I sort through paper trails that were stashed away…   Let me be clear:  There is actually a plastic bin in my house for stuff that I can’t deal with (for whatever reason) at any given moment, and it can get relatively full (read this: it usually overflows) about the time I turn the calendar to January.  I will never forget sitting on the dining room floor with this bin as 2015 came to a close.  Most of the contents should have hit a trash pile upon reception.  I read through rejection after rejection after rejection.  It felt awful.  It was awful.  I actually resolved to be better about throwing things away in the future, and I have been better about this… at least to a certain degree.

Even apart from my improved refuse skills, though, this year was a little bit different…

This year was different, because I had a certain amount of success.  Although the emotions that accompany this realization stand in stark contrast to years full of failure; I am similarly overwhelmed.

I was published in two books.  A third is about to hit the shelves along with another that I edited.  This propelled me into a book launch tour, which allowed me to travel coast to coast—literally.  I was commissioned for my first in print magazine article and presented my first paper at an academic conference.  In July, I secured full time employment in ministry, and more recently I was offered an internship with an eJournal focusing on distance learning programs in theology.  I’ve written an astounding number of blog posts and commentaries and participated in numerous podcast recordings, both on this site and for others.  And although it’s later than I ever expected; it looks like I am finally going to be licensed as a minister in the Church of the Nazarene, which will bring with it valuable work in compassionate ministry, even as I practically live out a vocational call in the UMC.  Yay me… or something… or maybe not…

I’ve been saying yes to everything, in part because it seemed as if there was nothing to which to say yes for such a long time.  Eventually, I’m going to have to say no to something, because I’m getting tired.  As it turns out, there are still only 24 hours in a day.  I think the other side of this, though, is that I continue to grasp for the thing…  I know it’s out there.  I haven’t found it yet.  And that’s OK.

I am content.  I am living into Jim Elliot’s, “Wherever you are, be all there,” even if that currently means I’m everywhere…  I hope I don’t look back on 2017 at some point and declare it the “banner year” or anything like that!  I suppose it’s alright to consider that it may have been a banner year… 

Fast forward to today:      

I had planned to say yes, unreservedly, for just a year.  But the opportunities just kept coming…

Commentaries… and master classes… and more academic papers… more podcasts, less blog posts (because most everything was half written as I rushed to the next thing)… sermons… and curriculum… and conferences… and please, oh please, oh please, a Netflix binge here and there (only considered a success if the fictional characters on the screen are living more scintillating lives than your own, so choose wisely).

I’m a far cry from famous (thank goodness), but I did have this moment at some point during which I realized I could stop worrying about becoming invisible.  I worked hard for that, but there is something incredibly freeing about knowing that I can take a step back and breathe now, if I want to.  That’s good.  Because I want to.   

I ran across this quote the other day, and it resonated deeply:

The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.”

-Ayn Rand

#Unstoppable

L.

#AlsoALittleExhausted

Dead Dreams Walking

Holy Monday…  When we remember that sometimes dead stuff comes back to life…

As I was processing this on my way to work, I was thinking about dead dreams.  You see, I’m getting ready to push a couple of buttons within the next few hours that will both change the trajectory of my path for the next several years and resurrect something I hoped for that I thought was long since dead.  I could feel my eyes smiling.  It’s been awhile.

And then it got better…

As I walked into the church, I was heading down the hall toward my office when I saw my sweet, 90 year old friend, who had a heart attack a few weeks ago, heading my way… looking very well… very whole… heck, her hair and make-up look so much better than mine, today, I am put to shame, and she is headed to the salon and to exercise, this afternoon… 

Like my dreams, she wasn’t actually dead, but sometimes it’s close enough that we feel the full effect, anyway.

The words of John 12:1-11 remind us of Jesus’ visit to his once-dead friend, Lazarus.  They remind us of Mary’s grief that begins well before the crucifixion and manifests itself in greasy hair that smells like a tomb.  They remind us of the grasping at straws that is the unease of people who keep trying to kill and destroy what is eternal, even though it can’t be done.

Repeat: It can’t be done.

L.

Small Steps

AKA, that part when I remembered it might be important to read Scripture for my own formation as opposed to (only) ministry… and some other things…  I also remembered some other things…

For years now, I have woken up and checked my phone… my Facebook notifications… my messages… my email…  I have also clicked over to biblegateway.com and read through the daily office… while drinking coffee… often in bed. 

I love social media.  I love how it has leveled the playing field for people like me who don’t have any desire to fight for a platform but who might have something worthwhile to say from time to time.  I love how it allows me to stay connected with everyone I’ve ever met.  If I’m honest, I also love how it validates my greatest joys and biggest fears.  But I’m not sure I love it so much that I want a cold, hard screen to be the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about before I close my eyes in sleep.

I’m never going to be a proponent of hands free living.  Even in the midst of wondering what a life less directed by social media might look like; I set up new accounts—more of them!  But I am also serious about discerning which blocks of my time should belong to the Internet and which should… not…

Shameless plugs, you can now follow me on Twitter: l_michaels_2018 and on Instagram: lisaannemichaels

So I did some weird stuff…

I ordered a new hard copy Bible, because I want to read the daily office for the sole purpose of reading the daily office, before I ever begin to type whatever insights it brings to me for this blog.  I want to mark it up with all kinds of messy color spurting from pens and highlighters and leaving globs of ink in places I intended and in places I did not.  I want to look back over it all at the end of the year and see what things God speaks into my heart for this time and place.  And because Amazon Prime is getting slower… and because almost every page of Scripture I own is at the office as opposed to in my bedroom (and I’m on vacation)… and because the family Bible—yellowed, seriously turning to dust, and translated KJV was the only option I had at my fingertips, this morning; I hefted it into my arms and ended up with a pretty good memory of my heritage.  I loved this, but I do still hope a mail truck appears soon…

I also pulled out an alarm clock…  you know, one of those contraptions that has a clock and some buttons and forces you to wake up at a specific time without also reminding you of messages that should be answered, calls that must be made, and pictures of midnight snacks three of your on-line friends ate just hours ago.  Because here’s the truth:  I wake up to check the time at often very regular intervals, all night long, and when I do this, I also tend to check in on the virtual world.  But unless you’re in the midst of an emergency, I actually don’t need to know what you’re doing at 3am…  In fact, why are you still up?  The alarm clock is going to solve this issue for me, at least in theory, because it will allow me to turn off my phone when I go to bed and still arrive where I belong the following morning!

These are small steps to healthier rhythms.  And that’s what I have the energy for right now…  small steps…

L.

I Never Knew That

I’m trying pretty hard not to be a church calendar snob.  Honestly, I don’t even know how I got to be this way… how I began to care about the church calendar, at all (about which I knew nothing for the vast majority of my life).  I think, in some ways, it is a classic case of learning something new that resonates deeply and wanting everyone else in the world to have that excitement, as well.  But let’s return to…  I’m not too fond of being a snob (period), and it certainly doesn’t sit well with me to be a snob in the Christian/Church sense.  That just never ends well for anyone!  (But please take note of the fact that my seven year old is really upset about crosses popping up at nativity scenes.)

I did, however, have an exciting moment several weeks back, and I want to share it. 

I was sitting at a table, sharing a meal, and talking about the lectionary (because that’s totally normal, right) when a friend of mine who has been a part of the church community for a lifetime said, “I never knew that God’s people all over the world were studying the same Scriptures, week after week, until you started teaching us about that!” 

We’re talking a matter of days, here, friends!  She had been in church her whole life, and she had never heard anyone talk about the shared study of Scripture, across the board… across geographic and cultural and denominational boundaries… until a few days earlier!  And let’s be real, up until a few years ago, neither had I.

She was excited!  I was excited!  And it’s not because I have some legalistic need to dictate which Scripture should be used at all times by all people.  It’s because this is community!  This sharing of the same words (and the same Word) allows us to connect with people… globally… every single week (and dare I suggest every single day, if we also consume the daily office).

Someone else at the table chimed in…  “Just our denomination, right?”

Um… not quite…

“But not Catholics, right?”

Insert the part where I try not to die, because yes… definitely Catholics…

“Oh…”

Now let’s be clear…  I’m pretty sure the RCL (publically released in 1994, although preceded by others and tracing the history of reading common texts all the way back to the early church) is not synonymous with salvation (sigh of relief for all the people who were born and died before I was in high school), but I do want to underscore the significance of commonality in community, because we live in a culture steeped in individualism, and I think there’s something to the idea that God might actually be saying the same things to all of us. 

This helps to dispel the “us and them” myth.  It brings us together as one people.  It makes us a village as opposed to an island.  Maybe it even fosters compassion for the other, because it’s more difficult to turn away from our brothers and sisters when we’re looking at their faces, and we do that when we’re gathered in the same sacred space—physically present or not.  Maybe that’s (at least part of) why continuity matters…

 
L.

My Feet Have Walked this Path Before

I’m not sure that I’m really a creature of habit (I’m definitely not awesome at routine… still…), but I do like to revisit places I have loved.  The past two days have been pretty good for that.  This has given me time to reflect on the passage of time, itself, which is always a difficult concept around which to wrap my mind.

As an example, two (plus) years is seemingly a long time, but if you put that much space between trips to the same shore or the same prayer labyrinth on the edge of a cliff; when you arrive you might find that they are largely unchanged.  In that sense, maybe two years isn’t a long time, at all.

I, however, am not largely unchanged.

Prayer labyrinths are kind of funny (though not ordinarily humorous).  The one I walked, today, requires you to begin on a straight path that looks as if it could lead directly to the center, but… of course… we all know that’s never the way it goes.  Before you know it, we’re twisting and turning and just as we seem to get a little bit closer to the goal, we’re spinning around again.  If we “stay the course,” we will eventually get to wherever we’re going, but it takes more time than most of us are willing to commit. 

The first time I walked this particular labyrinth, I was completely alone for the vast majority of the walk.  Occasionally, I became aware of a curious presence, but most people simply do not have the patience for this kind of activity (even in the middle of a secluded garden that requires a significant elevator ride to reach it).  Today was different, because others joined in on a fairly regular basis, as I circled… and circled… and circled…  As reverent of an experience as I wished this to be, I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at how hopelessly lost some of them got, traipsing through the middle of the maze, refusing to follow the meticulously laid out path.  The truth is, one misstep can take you right back to the beginning, and although I’m not sure that’s great theology; it made for some interesting reflection.

So, as people got lost and eventually gave up on the path, altogether, just running into the center to snap a selfie (admittedly, I’m guilty of the selfie thing, too, although I did get there honestly), I tried to keep my eyes on the ground. 

Keep your eyes on the ground?  Who gives that kind of advice?  Apparently… today… me…

Two years and two months ago, I lamented…  “It’s soaking wet and I’m freezing and I can’t remember how I got here!”  Today I think I know, but I’m not sure it matters anymore.  What does matter is that I have no desire, whatsoever, to be in the same place in another two years.  I was holding tightly to some stuff the first time I made this walk.  I was holding tightly to some stuff that didn’t come to pass, and maybe to some stuff that shouldn’t have come to pass, and I’ve grieved all of it so deeply that grief became my default.  I had a moment, this weekend, where I realized that in passionately grieving the past and present, I had actually begun to grieve the future, as well, and that’s just ridiculous!  I refuse to do that anymore.  “Each day has enough trouble of its own,” right?  Realism… (see Matt. 6:34).

I recently acquired a new favorite quote:

“She remembered who she was and the game changed.”

 -   Lalah Deliah

Remembering can be very, very good.  Revisiting can be very, very good.  Readjusting can be very, very good. 

New game…  Same goal…  Watch out…  This time, I know what I'm doing...

L.

#StillNotAQuitter

#WarmerFlipFlops