The need to be challenged

I'm generally a very happy person, so when I wake up with a vague sense of inexplicable sadness, I know something's off. Some wispy, sneaky force has crept into my life, surprising me with its sinking presence. That something is boredom.

As a graduate student, daily life mandates that I don't have time to be bored. I think the last time I was bored might have been freshman year of high school, before AP classes and part time jobs began demanding more and more of my time. Throughout college I made it my habit to fill every spare inch of life with SOMETHING, always preferring industry over rest, falling into stress rather than idleness nine times out of ten. What keeps me driven? My identity is far too rooted in my accomplishments, of course. But it takes far more to overcome an identity issue than just the ability to articulate it.

So this year I've taken some intentional steps to create more space in my life. A regular bedtime routine gets me up at a consistent hour, so I have plenty of time in the morning to pray, eat, and work out. I've blocked out specific times for homework so I'm no longer filling every gap with reading assignments, and now I can actually have a social life. I quit my job, found a more restful one, and picked up a second instrument. I intentionally took one class less than I have room for so that I could get the most out of my internship experience. So far this has been the best semester yet. I am rested, I am focused, I am at peace.......I am becoming bored. And for someone whose concept of self-worth is derived largely from the number of checks on her to-do list, boredom does not feel good.

Ironic, isn't it, that having recently emerged from one of the most difficult seasons of my life, I now crave challenge more than anything. I appreciate the rest in between, but now I'm off the mat and ready for another round.

So what exactly is my problem? Do I need to learn how to rest? Or, having had my rest, do I need to learn to reach farther to challenge myself?

In the boys club I help out with as part of my internship, I saw an amazing thing. Put 13 rowdy elementary and middle-school-aged boys in a gym, and six adult women can have some understandable difficulty keeping them quite and in line. Our primary concern is their safety, and everything we do is geared toward providing an atmosphere of safety which they may or may not experience at home. Then yesterday I saw a truly inspiring thing. One man led the group, and instantly commanded their complete attention with these words: "If you don't work as team in this activity, I promise you, someone will get hurt." 

Challenge accepted. Against all of our maternal instincts, the children were led through activities and drills without the security of cushy floor mats and helmets. And these were indeed risky drills; activities which made us hold our breath and cross our fingers, worse-case-scenarios running through our minds. And you know what? No one got hurt. The boys rose to the occasion because the risk involved was real. As a result, they were a more cohesive group than I've ever seen them, and each and every one of them was lifted up and encouraged by the group in a way six women probably wouldn't have been able to recreate.

If I'm honest with myself, in the absence of an overwhelming class load and work schedule, I have forgotten how and why I need to challenge myself. In my professional development, as I rub shoulders with people who are different than me, in my free time, am I making choices that intentionally put myself in the zone of good and necessary risk?

Am I intentionally reaching out to people? That's a risk, because then they might suck me dry, or worse, not like me. Am I willing to lead my client into that important topic of conversation? That's a risk, because it's going to be uncomfortable! But I'm not going to be helpful if I play it safe.

Cutting down the business on my life has been essential. It's been restful. Most importantly, it has revealed to me the ways I fill up life so I don't have to be challenged. Rest is important, but challenge is equally as vital. There's no real excuse for boredom.

"The Hope of Heartbreak"

I would like to direct your attention to this excellent article, The Hope of Heartache.
I love the way the author describes the deep reality of something we usually belittle or deny. Her authenticity is startling and refreshing.  I appreciate how she is completely unembarrassed by her pain, and rightly assumes that most everyone has or is or will endure this same grief.

I was delightfully surprised by her thoughts because of how often we minimize or laugh off this particular pain. How many times have I myself uttered an encouragement which deflects attention away from the trial...
               "You deserve better...."
              "You'll find someone else.."
              "In a few months you'll feel better," or
              "Maybe you should get a dog."
How often have I tried to belittle or deny my own grief because it seems silly to talk about, though it was the loss of something so precious.  It is simply human nature to smear yellow over deep dark oceans of grief, but this tendency is especially true in regard to heartache, and especially in Christian circles. (Give me one good Christian song about the loss of romantic love. Okay, Reliant K and Jon Foreman come to mind, but certainly nothing you'd hear on K Love.)  We just want to pretend its not as difficult a journey as it really is. But by doing this, when we pretend that Heartache is somehow a "second-rate" grief, we lose the opportunity to experience God's faithfulness, and we deny the value of what God made good.

It is so easy for us to pretend that Heartache is no big deal, especially if my pride is involved. Break-ups are a sucker-punch to pride you didn't know you had. For whatever reason, a break up means admitting you were wrong, and no one wants to be wrong. We may also think that if other people see our pain, we might be written off as desperate, as if pain caused by one area of life means you're automatically weak. This is as illogical as saying I shouldn't cry over my broken arm because the rest of my body is in good shape. For Christians, however, I think the deepest lie is believing that finding my satisfaction in Christ means not having any other desires. Nothing could be further from the truth. Contentment in Singleness (as well as marriage) means sacrifice, and losing a spouse or potential spouse is a loss nonetheless.

We miss out on something very important when we try to minimize this type of grief. For a culture which goes to great lengths in celebrating marriage, why do we then fail to pay homage to the loss of it? If God Himself instilled in us a yearning for intimacy, would we then ascribe this ache to the devil or to human weakness? Could it be that the loss itself is a gift to be treasured, just as the gift which is celebrated?

I have been guilty myself of minimizing grief, of trying to "be strong" in the face of loss. I have "shrugged off" the deep ache as an inconvenience or weakness, pretending to be "over it" much sooner than I should have. But beyond being inauthentic, this only results in minimizing the Good Thing God Himself gave. If this hurt less, that means the relationship would have been less.

The fact that this is painful now means what we had was very good. Such a good thing deserves to be celebrated and deserves to be grieved.

As the author reiterated, Love is worth it. Are you bearing a deep grief because of what was lost? Then you are strong, because you loved much. Sisters, you are NOT pathetic when you ache for someone to hold you. Brothers, you are NOT desperate as you watch and wait for her to enter your life. And as much as you want to savor every wonderful moment with someone you love, so too hold onto each hour of suffering as if you are undergoing something holy. Because you are. And when that sun finally does break out, it shines out all the clearer.

I've finally seen it; it's worth every minute of waiting.

Dating is like backpacking

I was inspired by this post by Samuel Kee: Dating is Like Going into a Haunted House.
True, thought I. Though I have no high-school dating experiences to speak of (praise God I was spared!), as an outside observer it seems like a legitimate comparison.
Then you approach marriageable age, and the scene changes. Suddenly dating is expected, and in fact, appropriate. Though I'm no dating expert, I've taken a couple trips, and this is what I've found.

Dating is like a backpacking trip:

• Its highly idealistic, until about 20 minutes in. Then suddenly you realize that this is a big deal and what did you get yourself into and oh my gosh, we're really here and how did we get here and I can't believe I'm doing this! Elation and excitement and being overwhelmed all at once. You realize that this is not a small decision, but there's no turning back now. 
• Like a Haunted House, it's still risky business, Perhaps more risky now that you're backpacking. You could roll an ankle or break a bone; you could get lost or run out of water; at the very least your feet start hurting after a while when you realize this trip actually involves some work and some sacrifice. 
• Higher risk, more work, requires  more intentional planning. Trips like this--successful ones--don't happen by accident or on a whim. But the element of calculated risk is precisely what makes the journey epic. Which leads me to the next point...
• Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. Cliche but true. You are passing  some absolutely phenomenal views. This doesn't happen in every day life or without sacrificing some comforts here and there. But the view is worth it. Sometimes it really is best not to stress over your destination and to enjoy the view. On the other hand...
• Pace yourself. Injuries happen when you're clamoring down a mountain-face of scree. Don't run because you're bound to trip on something. As each new turn unfolds another stunning landscape, enjoy it. Don't rush through the wonderful. 
• Consult the experts. Your own past experience will only get you so far, and each trail is different, with different discoveries and risks. And for Pete's sake, don't go sneaking off into the woods alone! Your people back home want to know you are safe, so give them a call from time to time and tell them where you are. At the very least they can call in a helicopter if things don't go as planned. And don't forget to check the map from time to time and make sure you're still on the right path. 
• Be conditioned. No one goes from couch potato to Sherpa in one day. Journeys like these take exercise: patience and discipline, the ability to be uncomfortable, good humor, a sense of adventure,  grace, thoughtfulness, communication,  and the humility to admit you smell bad after three or four days. Are you developing the disciplines to be a good hiker? Are your muscles and lungs strong enough to finish the journey? Don't sit around playing XBox while you're waiting for your trip to start. Get out there and get in shape!