Assiduous and the Open Doors

I don’t know what your philosophy is on coming up with a word for the year, but I like them more than resolutions because my self-discipline is poor. For example I just had a glass bottle coke, burger and fries, 5 days into a health and fitness challenge. It was my cheat meal for the 20 seconds of High Intensity exercise I did 3 days ago. Resolutions can be manipulated, given up on, become burdensome. Words or what I historically have believed about them have meaning, are somewhat fixed except for the few that can mean multiple things. Words we learn, and typically, don’t lose them, although I can’t remember the word I picked 3 or 4 years ago. No wait, I just did as I wrote that last sentence. The word was Emprise.

I typically try to land on a word I previously did not know the definition of, which is why this year I discovered the word Assiduous while google searching “extreme patience”. Though that is not the definiton of assiduous.

Assiduous means: showing great care and perseverance, marked by careful unremitting attention or persistent application.

I’m not sure I could pick a word that describes me equally more and less. When I am focussed or desire something enough, I usually show some measure of perseverance and care. But equally as much, when I am uncertain and confused I can let things fall by the wayside.

For example I’m not sure I will finish this blog post. Not because I don’t want to write, rather because I feel internal angst as I write it. I want the uncertain pit in my stomach to go away. I want to have an answer to the question of open doors.

I ran into a minister I interviewed with for a chuch position here in Charleston last week. I withdrew my name from consideration right before Christmas, and shortly after, they decided to make a hire. I debate whether I should have stuck it out and waited for an answer, but if there is one thing I have learned from people as of late, it’s that answers change, and they change quickly. Perhaps, it is a symptom of our world and its current state. Perhaps we are overexposed. Or perhaps we just don’t want to know.

I talked to a friend this past weekend for over 2 hours over the course of 2 days about a seeming indecision he was having. I thought through our conversation we made progress regarding his decision, yet he essentially did nothing about it (one could say he did the opposite).

So much of life or arguably all of it is actually not determined by solely our decisions. However, it does not excuse our decisions. We decide if we will show great care and perseverance. We decide if we will give our unremitting attention and persistent application to something or someone. And we also decide not to, which brings me to thinking about “open doors.”

Open door Painting by Linda Karslake | Saatchi Art

You know how your supposed to knock on a bathroom door or stall just in case someone on the other side didn’t lock it. I hardly ever knock, not because I’m consciously wanting to walk in on someone pooping, but because I always lock the door. There are times when I lock the door and am about to go the bathroom, and then go back and check the nob just in case. I expect an open door until someone locks or closes it. There are also some doors I don’t open, some doors in some instances I never open. Like the door to a strip club, I would never walk through that, a vape shop, 99% likely not to open that door. Any store involving hunting. At this stage of a life, unfortunately, I still have no reason to open a door to a jewelry store.

And then there are some doors, I do knock on because I am unsure. I am not sure it will open or if am welcome or expected. Usually, those doors I am more aware of the uncertainty within myself. I fear some level of consequence if the door does not open or want to avoid some level of sadness. But those doors, the ones with the most risk of being disappointed by, usually have the most potential for joy. So I knock on them, and I hope.

And then I imagine those looking on, watching me approach some doors and the ones I walk through and the ones that are locked and wonder what they might be thinking watching all this. I wonder how often they say, that is the door you should be knocking on or walking through. Or even, that is the door to the room or space you should stay in for a while. Maybe, you should be assiduous in that space, in that place, with that person. And maybe you should rest and work and find rhythm right here in this green pasture, besides those still waters.

And maybe, if we do that, our patience will just might feel like delight.

Catharsis, Neurosis, Jesus

After almost 2 months of not writing, I realize the cognitive dissonance I live in when it comes to writing. I regularly vocalize something like this: “I am usually doing my best spiritually and emotionally when I am writing and reflecting regularly on what I feel like the Lord is speaking to me.” Then I don’t write and end up confused or uncertain of what to do or who to be.

So to get back into it, I’m going to throw out a few definitions:

Catharsis- the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

Neurosis- a relatively mild mental illness, not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress (depression, anxiety, obsessive behavior, hypochondria) but not a radical loss of touch with reality.

Why these words? I feel like humans or maybe just I have a tendency to settle for the first while I make room for the other. I’ll explain but I’d like to offer a story in Scripture.

In 1 Samuel 24, King Saul is taking a leak in a cave near some sheep pens. Actually he had to have been pooping. If the men were far back in the cave and they had time to talk about the plan to kill Saul, I think one is less alert and more comfortable popping squat.

So Saul is pooping in a cave and David creeps up and cuts a piece of Saul’s robe off, and David, because he has a sensitive conscience feels guilty. He then sternly lets all of the men around him know that they should have never entertained the thought of attacking the king. So David lets Saul re-leave, after his (Saul’s) relieving to the readers relief, though David would have to relive this event in a similar way later. See what I did there. We are all impressed, but I digress.

David then calls out of the cave. Saul turns around. David bows to the ground. Then David gives a plea to Saul and tries to prove to Saul that he has no intention of harming him, by showing him mercy in the cave and providing the cloth he cut, as evidence.

Saul responds with recognition and weeps asking David to keep an oath in regards to Saul’s family when David becomes king. An oath is made. Catharsis. The oath is later kept but in a few chapters, Saul is trying to kill David again. Neurosis

David is on the run a while. Saul is hung up on killing David, to preserve his kingship.

***

I have a confession. Sometimes I approach Scripture in search of catharsis and sometimes my prayer or lack of focussed prayer turns into neurosis. Both are not particularly helpful.

I was struck by some of these thoughts while reading Letters to a Young Pastor by Eugene and Eric Peterson. In one particular letter, Eugene critiques Kierkegaard’s biblical interpretation in Fear and Trembling as too neurotic, as Kierkegaard reflects on his broken engagement comparing his own circumstances to God testing Abraham with Isaac at Moriah.

I literally read that last week and had the thought, “Yeah, Kierkegaard feels unwell and mentally off even in his writings which is probably why he never could fit into a pastoral vocation.” Then, the Sunday sermon at church was about Abraham and Isaac, and I began to do the exact same thing with my own circumstances, not giving a second thought to Kierkegaard’s error.

It is amazing that man so radical, who had so much to say and critique in 42 years of living could have so much passion for the Church and disdain for the institution. He who seemingly died from his own exhaustive criticism, could have potentially avoided it all, had he let himself be loved or let himself be given over to a love that would have made him more tender. Instead, neurosis with Jesus.

Catharsis with a little Jesus risks shallowness. Neurosis with a little Jesus might mean depth but risks isolation. There is a middle, a homeostasis, a peace, that allows us to be accessible in our dealing with others while holding the tension of acknowledging present, even consistent suffering whilst remaining hopeful, expectant of good.

By the time David is being hunted down again I think he resists catharsis and returns to his enemies the Philistines for some type of refuge. It’s a strange place to be, going to a town of people who you were once at war with, who you received fame for killing their best warrior only to make your home with them.

Jesus to the cross.

Lose your life to find it.

These actions, behaviors, thoughts occupy the space between catharsis and neurosis and sometimes feel like they are dangerously close to dipping into one of the two. I don’t know how to tell when we have dipped in, I just know who keeps us in the midst.