The struggle to name it, however, is rooted in my pursuit of pathways to express this “doing” of unconventional sacred purpose through very conventional means. Now two seminary degrees and three annual conferences later, it is refreshing to both embrace and name the unorthodox thing that I do.
Beyond our stories, our personal and collective awakenings to sacred purpose may be inconvenient and uncomfortable. They may even ruffle some feathers, repudiate some expectations, and disrupt the status quo–resulting in external pressures that might try to coerce us into conforming. However, when we awaken to what’s true internally–although “all hell is breaking loose” externally–we feel at home with ourselves and we yearn to live from that place of blissful authenticity.
After a tumultuous year, the first weekend of the last quarter of 2017, which also ushered in the harvest moon, was providing a sign post. You see, the harvest is much bigger and a lot closer when we approach it with the understanding that it’s never just about us. This past weekend was about connecting with sacred purpose as a family member and a global citizen.
The pursuit of sacred purpose is a process of peeling back the layers that we have subconsciously built up to protect ourselves from the bad, which has also kept out the good. More importantly, it has kept in the goodness of our essence–keeping it hidden, constricted and unexpressed. With layers peeled back, however, we arrive at center–our sweet spot of blissful authenticity.
Like breadcrumbs leading us back home, the sign posts along the way to sacred purpose come in many sizes, shapes, and forms. They appear in the midst of diverse challenges, experiences, and occurrences. And for me, they appeared this week as I participated in Charleston’s Moja Arts Festival for the very first time ever.
No matter how many seasons of disorientation and transition I go through, there seems to consistently be one question at the center of the experience, “Whose life are you living?” The first time this question rose to the surface of my consciousness was at least 17 years ago. I remember being rudely awakened in the middle of the night with a strong sense of anxiety as this plaguing question came to mind. At the time, I was married, living in the District of Columbia, and working in corporate America. From the outside, it appeared as if I was living a pretty normal life, and all that I needed to make it sheer perfection was to have 2.3 kids. That was the societal expectation that I had fallen prey to as the “default” path without ever deeply knowing whether that was the right path for me nor whether it was the right time, even if it was the right path.
Oftentimes, when we are in the unsettled and uncertain state of disorientation, we become highly susceptible to making bad decisions that have the potential to derail and devalue us. A wise mother of the church once told me that I should not make decisions when I’m hungry, angry, lonely, or tired–which cleverly forms the acronym halt. However, being hungry, angry, lonely, tired or any of their close cousins is quite possible during a time of disorientation. As someone who was jokingly but accurately dubbed the Director of Transition several years ago, I know that we must be especially vigilant during times of disorientation. I have also learned to look for and embrace the lessons that life offers in general, but especially during periods of transition.
Disorientation presents an opportunity for us to view things from a different vantage point. It creates space for us to see and acknowledge how oftentimes we invest our time and energy in the very things that hinder us. This gives us a chance to make some critical choices about what we must let go, because what we invest our time and energy in, is where our heart is and where our life follows. Life has taught me that time is the one resource that we all get allotted equally–24 hours in each day, and we make choices not only about how we spend our time, but how we invest our energy. We either choose to use our energy to acknowledge or to avoid, to heal or to harbor, to let go or to languish.
The intention, the motivation, the heart of this Lenten Safari is to arrive at a place of reorientation that allows us to embody the life we were created to live. However, when our orientation is a bit off and we put in an order for reorientation, we must be ready for disorientation, because it will be on the menu. This process of disorientation, which includes the discomfort of change, has to be embraced at the heart level. Change is never easy as “the only people that like change are wet babies” according to a well-known saying. So, during this disorientation process, it is essential to engage at the heart level with clear intentions and an openness to change.
According to Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” It is where we harbor the weeds of bitterness, resentment, jealousy, self-pity, self-centeredness, unforgiveness, anger, pride, arrogance, fear, hatred, and hopelessness–just to name a few. However, the heart also has the capacity to bear the fruits of the Spirit such as “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control .” (Galatians 5:22-23) It is up to us to determine which we will allow to flourish, and we can be assured that God knows the difference, for in answer to the question in Jeremiah about who can know the heart, the response was “I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind, to reward each person according to their conduct, according to what their deeds deserve.” That is why Proverbs 4:23 cautions us, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Guarding the heart and doing regular self-examinations of the heart are essential and ongoing processes, and sometimes it is in the wilderness while God has our full attention, that God wants to do an intensive de-weeding, a spiritual angioplasty, a pruning–if you will, so we can be more authentically who we be.