Forced Perspective

In Barnes et Noble today I was flipping through a book on poverty (to be added to my Christmas list) and I read about Malawi, about how a particular village would be better equipped to handle the current drought, if the able bodied men and women (meaning those age 20-30) were around to collect rain and channel it to the fields. However, in this village most of the men and women in this particular demographic are gone, dead to AIDS, and so, the village suffers.

I plan to read more of the book, but I know what the story will be, what the story of a large percentage of the world is: preventable suffering gone on too long: undrinkable water, preventable diseases, economic exploitation. It isn't that I'm calloused to these things, in fact, my heart is moved to compassion, investigation, and speaking out.

And yet, my problems seem just as real and as pressing as they did before I picked up the book.

I have been searching for full-time employment, with increasing vigor, for almost two years. When I graduated seminary in May of 2006 I thought it was my ticket to success. By success, I mean the ability to pay back my school loans without stress on the first of every month. Each week I would tell myself that the perfect job was right around the corner. God was preparing something extra-special, a position that would use my gifts, loves, dreams, and skills.

Then I started thinking in terms of months rather than weeks. So God needed a little extra time to mold the position? Who was I to argue? Anyway, I still had a job that would take me through the end of the summer.

During this time I was sending out plenty of resumes. Of course, I was being "discerning." At the seminary they told us not to give into the fear and accept the first position offered to us. If we wanted longevity to mark our careers, then we needed to make sure a church was right for us and we were right for the church. I even turned down a position offered to me because I knew that it wasn't the right fit. Most of the time, I would get a phone interview, or a first interview, or a first and second interview, and then a "thanks, we wish we had TWO positions open!" Or a, "We think you are an amazing candidate, but we are going to hire from within." Or even a, "Your interview gave us a lot to think about and because of some of your questions, we've decided to wait on hiring right now." Thanks. That really helped me.

Emotionally, I've gone up and down. Sometimes I feel confident that God cares about me, the course of my life, and my general happiness and the happiness of those I love. Other times I feel trapped, stagnant, and to quote U2, "stuck in a moment that I can't get out of." I tried to start a website which sustained me for about two months until I realized that I had no money (duh) and had to abandon the idea. I applied for an MFA in Creative Writing, which seemed the perfect program for me, a combination of literature and Christianity: perfect. Yet, I recently learned I was rejected ("not accepted" is the nice way of putting it, but it feels like rejection) from this program, so I have, once again let go of a hope.

Which is all to say, that I cannot force myself to have perspective on my life. I do not wish to think about the country of Malawi and the town ravaged by AIDS. I do not want to dwell on the millions of people without clean water. I do not want to think of all the suffering children who grow up without enough love so that the grow into men and women who hate, who fire guns, who detonate bombs, who torture, who destroy.

I am not proud of this. I wish that I could remain ever mindful of the grace-filled provision all around me, the freedom, the safety, the peace that permeated my daily life. But I don't. I think about how maybe I should have taken that job in New Jersey or wonder if going to seminary was a waste of time. Or if I should make a go of it as a free-lance writer and if that would be financially feasible or would I fail at that and have one more exhausted dream to add to a growing list.

Which is exactly the problem with having problems. They isolate you.

Someone once wrote that the problem with poverty is that poor people are denied the chance to help someone else. The concept being that the tragedy of poverty isn't a lack of stuff its a lack of an opportunity to help another human being. Poor people must be so occupied with the basics of making ends meet that they have little time to give to others, and that there is something essential to our human nature that needs to offer itself in service to others. We cannot be what we are intended to be unless we are permitted to serve others.

And I would say that the same is true for me. Rightly or self-righteously, I bear the weight of looking for a job that will both provide for a family as well as use the gifts that God has given me: reading, writing, speaking, thinking. Now this may not be a kin to food, shelter, clothing, and perhaps I should be grateful for having a job at all.

The thing is, I am grateful for a job and for shelter and all the provision I have, and yet I do not believe that if God has a plan for me, it extends only to clean water. I believe that in my particular case it also includes writing, ministry, teaching, someday being a father, and using those gifts to help other gain access to proper medical care, nutrition, a loving community, and then too also help them find meaningful work themselves.

I cannot force myself to have perspective just as I cannot control the course of my life. All I can do is to play the cards that are dealt to me and some days (months, years) the cards don't fall in your favor. I know that I am not the only person with problems. I know that there are others who suffer more than I do, and when my life crosses with theirs I hope I have the strengths to offer consolation, and if not consolation, at least share some M&M's.