Daily random ramblings as I approach my 50th birthday next Monday.
The title track of Bonnie Raitt’s magnificent album “Nick of Time” describes her joy in finding the love of her life a bit later in her life than the social norm. Among the lyrics of the song are these:
I see my folks are getting on
And I watch their bodies change
I know they see the same in me
And it makes us both feel strange
No matter how you tell yourself
It's what we all go through
Those lines are pretty hard to take
When they're staring back at you
Oh Oh Oh, scared you'll run out of time
Of such panic are mid-life crises made, I suppose. Fears of unrealized dreams, unfulfilled ambitions, incomplete personal mission projects; fears that it’s now too late to accomplish what in our younger days we thought we would accomplish, that aging’s biological and physiological juggernauts have generated too much momentum to be stopped or even slowed before our names are added to their victim lists.
I don’t think I ever experienced a mid-life crisis. For men, aren’t they most frequent in their 40's (women are probably different; usually are)? I don’t remember a time when I had to have a sporty convertible or when I felt a desire to transplant into a younger generation’s culture to convince myself, if no one else, that there was still tread left on my life’s tires. I don’t look back with regret on the big choices I have made over the years; there isn’t much I would change, were the circumstances to repeat. I spend a lot of time on our treadmill, but that exercise is a natural extension of my life-long attraction to walking, rather than a reflection of a need to look younger than my age.
I’ve had crises, no doubt, but they were situational, not seasonal; once the precipitating incident resolved, so did the crisis. Mid-life crises aren’t as much connected to specific events as they are to generalized needs of the heart and soul; those I haven’t had. Not in family. Not in marriage. Not among friends. But in ministry, in the church, that’s another story.
My seasonal crises have been, oddly and cruelly enough, faith based. Recounted on several occasions in this blog, my struggle with doubts about my call to ministry has been a recurring character in the Coley drama. Often over the years I have asked God whether I was ever actually called to ministry, and if so, why that call had apparently been cancelled without notice. Unknowingly, perhaps I concocted my call out of the anxiety of a graduate studies program at Iowa I chose to give up in the spring of 1982. Or rather, maybe I correctly perceived the original call, but the memo suspending my licence to practice had somehow been lost in the bureaucratic menagerie of heaven’s many responsibilities, leaving me in the church and in the line of fire, no longer indemnified by divine underwriters.
However explained, there have been times when I questioned, not simply whether I was up to a particular task in ministry, but whether I could claim its particular call. That’s a crisis.
As I evaluate my first fifty years, I appreciate my childhood more than ever, I value my time at the University of Iowa immensely, and realize the grace of countless beautiful people with whom I have crossed paths since. But ministry is the unresolved mystery. It’s been an emotional and spiritual roller coaster, at times profoundly grateful for the privilege of serving Jesus; at other times profoundly angry to have been swindled into such a torturous career.
Most troubling, I don’t see the roller coaster stopping before I retire (or quit, or go to prison for spray painting protest graffiti on the walls of every church in the Quad Cities). This chaotic movement from suffering to satisfaction seems to have mastered perpetual motion. I can’t stop it. I can hardly manage it, except to know that I have company – people like the Old Testament prophets, who regularly barked at God for bringing them into revolving unrest.
There is no happy ending to this entry, but neither do I intend a sad one. Today was a good day. I am looking forward to the weekend. Monday will be a fine birthday. I’m in a good mood. It’s just that I know the coaster will begin its next climb to chaos at any moment, and I will almost certainly be on board.
Today’s invitation to leave a comment is about your crises, mid-life or otherwise. I doubt there is much to learn from my present confessional, but your experience might help someone in their struggles. Consider it.
Pray with me:
God of every crisis, author of every life, and Lord of every collision of those two forces, be my spiritual GPS through the maze of life. Help me locate important landmarks. Inspire me to journal valuable experiences. Conect me with people who will accept my fallibility and culpability, as well as people who will raise their hands with mine in praise when life is well lived and much loved. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
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1 comment:
Crisis? What Crisis?
Those lucky enough to be living in their fifth decade (our 50th year began, of course, after our 49th birthday) may remember those words as the title of an record album (vinyl) by the band Supertramp. Don't remember much of the album, except I can see the cover in my mind -- a man sipping a frew-frew drink on a rooftop with the pollution of the city all around him. What I also remember about it was that it reminds us how silly it is to bury our heads in the sand and deny what's going on around us. Have I had a mid-life crisis?
There's a part of me today -- when all is going seemingly well in my life -- that I'd say, "no." All I've had in my life are learning experiences. A "crisis," at least a personal crisis life we're discussing here, not a crisis like the tornado that ripped apart Greensburg, KS, this summer, is really a matter of our own making. SOmetimes in my great magnifying mind, I can make a crisis out of a lost car in a hotel parking lot (I didn't lose it, the valet did and poor did I let them have a piece of my mind, the morons!) If I take a deep breath and say a little prayer, those kinds of crises simply pass. Case closed.
The biggest crisis in my life, of course, was not in mid-life, but before. When I came face to face with a decision that would forever change me, a decision to accept Jesus in my life as my higher power, to ask for his forgiveness and his help and turn my will and my life over to the care of God. Boy, was that the right thing to do.
But it did not solve all of my problems. Because, you see, it's my mind, my self doubt, that keeps interfering, keeps creating the crises in this life God has for me.
A couple of years ago, there was a restructuring at work. A change in job responsibilities. A change I had requested and even designed ... I was ready for a change. Be careful what you ask for right?
So the change was made and I started down this new path. And I panicked. I wondered if I could do it. What if I fail. How long would it take me to find another job. How much savings do I have. How long will my wife put up with me before her patience runs out if I can't find something. Can you tap into your 401K if you're fired for imcompetence. These thoughts dominated me ... I was terrified. Almost petrified.
So I went to a meeting and talked about. I was scared. I was doubting. I was in crisis. Pure and simple.
And one of my buddies in this fellowship looked at me, love in his eyes, and asked a simple question: If you believe in God, and you believe that he has saved you in the past, why do you think he would have brought you all this way to drop you now and let you fail?"
A peace came over me. The crisis passed. And the success has come. (Not enough to satisfy me completely, but the crisis caused by a fear of failure is definitely a thing of the past.)
Listen to God. He has the answers for our crisis. And I am so blessed that I don't have to worry about them today.
Happy birthday, Bill.
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