Arrived

I remember being shocked in college at having just midterms and finals, instead of the quizzes, tests, and projects of high school (that, and using spiral notebooks in place of three-ring binders because there never were any handouts). As time went on, the tests got spaced farther apart, and more expensive: just one test per semester. Then per year. I finally passed the last one this year, and the next one won’t be for ten years.

It’s strange how there are pretty much no more external motivating events in my life. No deadlines, major tests, competitions or performances. No milestones, like getting married or having kids (except having more kids, but we’re not able to imagine that yet). If I ever anticipated a point of arrival, then I’m here. I’ve accomplished my training and established a career, have a family, bought a house, am investing in community and near family. I’ve regained my figure, become financially stable, and when I have free time it really is free time: for once in my life, I don’t have to be studying.

The strange thing is, I’m not automatically happier. Instead of my better self emerging now that my external life has plateaued, my worse self is showing up: my selfishness, my laziness, basically my belief that I can live life on my own effort. I am more consistent about seeking entertainment than about my spiritual life. I’ve read novels, gotten addicted to television shows, but I can’t say I’ve grown much spiritually. The entertainment starts as a way of combating the exhaustion of twelve hours of non-stop childcare followed by non-stop work, then develops into a way of escaping from the weariness and mundaneness of life, then just becomes habit. I’ve always thought that Satan doesn’t need to scare us or shock us; he just needs to distract us.

I go through cycles where I realize I need to be more spiritually consistent, and then I am for a while before my natural self takes over once again. But I think what I lose out on most is the big picture: what we are here for, what matters. A clear picture of the larger mission and purpose, and enough awareness of it to take me through the daily grind with purpose and joy. I get too deadened by the prosaic things that life seems to have boiled down to: counting the hours until their naps, counting down the patients until clinic ends. A constant succession of washing dishes, cleaning spills, changing diapers, wiping drool. My only goals to get enough sleep (which never seems to happen), to read this or watch that.

In a sense, life is purer now. It is more obviously about what it has always been about: the struggle to give up myself, to know Christ, to be him to the people I see every day. My natural inclinations are more obvious. The absence of purpose is more obvious. My struggle with habitual sins, my pride and selfishness are more clear. Before, all that external stuff made it seem like I was going somewhere, like I knew myself and had it together. Now, it’s just me, and the drool-wiping and the twentieth cataract. I either know what I’m about, or it becomes clear very quickly that I don’t. I either live out what I believe, or it becomes clear very quickly that I’m not.