The Quest for Normalcy--and the Pull Towards Greatness

I lean towards greatness
Yet I long for normalcy
Lifelong tension, this.

Over winter break, I wrote a lot of haikus in an attempt to figure out a life sentence upon which to end my vocational spiritual direction process.  Poetry sometimes expresses how we feel without the pressure of explanation.  I think I am in a poetic mood today.

To truly find me
"I must decrease"--lose myself
John the Baptist died.

The Ph.D decision has been weighing heavily on me for the last week.  After the thrill of being accepted, the reality of what life would look like has paraded before my eyes.

Spending hard-earned savings again while not generating more significant income.  Been there, done that--for Yale.  

Moving back home again, where people have moved to life stages of buying homes and starting families, while I have not.  Been there, done that--for my mom's sake when she was sick.  

Becoming a student again, after professional experience.  Been there, done that--and about to do it again.

Maybe it's because I grew up as that Asian homeschooled kid in Arcadia, but I've always longed for a sense of normalcy, to not be the person who stood out.  In my teenage years, this manifested in a lot of stress over what to wear--don't be the trendy one, but don't get a ticket from the fashion police either.  I've always known how to be a people-pleaser, thanks to a decent Emotional Quotient.  And I've always paid attention to what society deems as "successful"--and noticed that it is sometime presented as an idealized "normal."

At the same time, I have been pulled towards extraordinary and unusual people, ideas, and ambitions.  I was thrilled to meet Yo Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman in college, and to see George W. Bush and Arnold Schwarzenegger from a close distance.  I was more into the special experiences I had in college rather than the practical implications of what I majored in.  I have always felt incredibly stifled when I need to stay in the same social group, and I enjoy flitting around a lot more.

I tread the line between "normal" and "crazy" in my mind, between wanting to achieve great things and wanting a simple life.  I'm not saying that these categories are mutually exclusive.  In fact, I think I am more inclined to believe that descriptions are fluid rather than set in stone.  But I still cannot help creating binaries in my head, and perhaps that is the problem.

Why do we think that getting married is a marker of success, versus remaining single?  Why does everyone work to be homeowners, rather than living as Jesus did, "with no place to lay [their] head"?  Why do we want to save up, when we could spend a little more on those in need?

I don't have it all figured out, but I suspect the answers lie somewhere in between a radical mimicking of how Jesus lived on earth--single, poor, criminalized, honored, outcasted, loved, homeless, hosted--and how the realities of life cause us to become.  Maybe I was never meant to be as radical as I've wanted to be in moments--tearing down the strongholds of sexism and homophobia and racism in the Church; nor can I quite fade into a normal timeline--tell me, how many women do you know started a Ph.D at age 32?

But what does it all matter, when all is said and done?  I'd rather know that I lived life well and to the fullest with the cards I was dealt.  Inshallah!

Acknowledging Weakness

I heard a beautiful sermon this morning on Peter's denial of Jesus--and how we often do so in big and small ways on a daily basis.  My Scripture reading for the day included the part when the Israelites must look upon the bronze snake in order to be healed in the wilderness.  There is something in human nature that does not want to look upon suffering (Jesus on the cross, as foreshadowed by the bronze snake) and that is ashamed of the Gospel.  (This is why Paul had to state explicitly in Romans that he is not ashamed by the Gospel.)

My Enneagram (personality) type is afraid of weakness.  I have been learning about this through my vocational spiritual direction, and this past Thursday, I got to be a part of a panel of other Enneagram 8s at a Vineyard church about 40 minutes north of Boston.  It was a relief to hear other people share about their struggle with vulnerability and how they were always in a fighting mode against the world and powers of injustice.  We are powerful people who are aware of power dynamics, and we hold the corner of the Body of Christ that involves boldness and truth-speaking and challenging corrupt authority.  These are all qualities Jesus (and His disciples) embodied in the New Testament.

But we struggle with the part of the Gospel that depends upon a suffering Savior, the Man of sorrows, and the shame of the Cross.  During Lent, I have been trying to strip away my defense mechanisms and to be more honest in a vulnerable (rather than a militant or critical) way.  May I learn from Jesus, the One who had nothing to hide and the One who ushered in the Kingdom of God through the power of God rather than His own strength.  Amen.