Our Daily Fruit
In particular, Lewis presents a fascinating discussion on the act of choosing gratitude, choosing joy, as a sign of walking in step with the Creator.
Ransom, one of Lewis' characters, reflects on human's desire to taste and taste again things that are good, that bring joy and pleasure. To not just enjoy the gift the first time, but to want it over and over. To want it in place of lesser gifts, lesser pleasures, that are offered. To scheme and cheat and kill to experience it again. And to sulk and stew when the desire is not satisfied.
Ransom reflects:
"This itch to have things over again, as if life were a film that could be unrolled twice or even made to work backwards...was it possibly the root of all evil? No: of course the love of money was called that. But money itself-perhaps one valued it chiefly as a defense against chance, a security for being able to have things over again, a means of unresting the unrolling of the film."
The "Green Woman," the innocent Eve of the pre-fall planet of Perelandra, doesn't understand this human feeling of discontent, disillusion, disappointment. Of wanting something that wasn't given.
She asks, "But how can one wish any of those waves not to reach us which Maleldil (God) is rolling toward us?"
How could we not accept His will and his offerings with joy and trust? It seems obvious in writing, when it's staring at you from the page, from the theology books, but we don't.
Ransom tries and tries to explain to her this sense of thwarted expectations, of wanting what we were not given, of mourning what we cannot have.
After awhile of back and forth discussion, the Green Woman, with the dawn of recognition, paints a simply profound metaphor for rejecting joy.
" 'What you have made me see,' answered the Lady, 'is as plain as the sky, but I never saw it before. Yet is has happened every day. One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one's mind. Then, may it be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. But this I had never noticed before--that the very moment of the finding there is in the mind a kind of thrusting back, or setting aside. The picture of the fruit you have not found is still, for a moment, before you. And if you wished--if it were possible to wish--you could keep it there. You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other.' "
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| Admittedly, it's easier to rejoice in fruit when it's mango and covered in chocolate. |
So often we "send our souls" after what we had expected, even hoped and prayed for, while the real fruit, the real gift, rots before us.
The Green Woman had never known she was choosing this joy. In her Edenic world, she has taken each fruit as it came, each wave as it came, with gratitude and trust because she had known no sour fruit, no death, no pain.
She recounts, astonished,
"I thought I was carried in the will of Him I love, but now I see that I walk with it. I thought that the good things He sent me drew me into them as the waves lift the islands; but now I see that it is I who plunge into them with my own legs and arms, as when going swimming."
Even in our fallen world of sin and betrayal and despair, we can choose to dive in, with abandon. Taking, accepting, rejoicing in the wave. Or we can choose to watch it pass us by.
We can choose to set our soul on the fruit He has given THIS day. Or we can choose to yearn for the fruit we had wanted with bitter wishing as the fruit we were given sours in our mouths.
I've adapted from The Lord's Prayer a new phrase, my new morning prayer:
When I awake to the bright, solemn morning, when peanut butter melts into toast, crunchy along the edges and coffee steams from a white polished cup, when I see the clouds smudged across a volcano sky and my hands open in surrender, I will pray,
"Give us this day our daily fruit. And may we take and eat and rejoice in it."
*Be forewarned this blog may see a proliferation of book reflections because of my newly acquired, two hour/three day a week reading time slot, I mean bus ride, into Guatemala City.
Finding My Way
I've lost that loving feeling. That spark. That passion.
I've lost my joy and giddiness at work. My creativity.
I live on writing, on creating, on explaining. For years I would literally jump and twirl for joy (just ask my coworkers) when writing a new blog post or putting the finishing touches on a grant proposal at work.
I loved explaining the intricacies of transformational development and desertification. I loved thinking up new ways to share my favorite story ever--the story of rural farmers overcoming poverty and transforming their lives. I loved writing the first couple of grant proposals. I loved improving on the next batch of proposals. I loved crafting reports on the funding we received. I loved following up on those reports the next year.
I loved it all the first four or five times around. I burned out some time between thinking up the 5th and 6th best way to explain what we do to the same funder.
I love the work that Plant With Purpose does, but I no longer love the work that I do.
God has other for plans for me, I know. Exciting plans. Only-God plans for only-God dreams.
But for now, I've lost that loving feeling and I still have 25 more days with Plant With Purpose.
I'm desperate for a spark of hope. I know God WILL restore my joy. I know He's up to something crazy stupid good. But I want to see Him now. I hunger, ache, for a sliver of joy to hold me over. To assure me that I won't always feel this burnout. That my brain won't always feel like mush and that God won't just move at some unforeseen point in the future when He clears a way, but that He can and He will move NOW. That He is present NOW. That His joy is for the taking NOW.
On Tuesday I shared a quote from T.S. Eliot's play, The Rock, that really struck a chord with me. I've been mulling over this phrase in particular:
"Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word."
At work, I've lost my words. I can still complete assignments, meet deadlines, operate on auto-pilot. But I've lost the words that flowed so freely, out of love and joy. I wonder, Is this a chance to experience more of The Word?
Can He move? Will He move NOW?
I'm losing hope. Burnout has taught me to identify myself by my own inadequacies. Burnout has forced me to admit that I can't accomplish what I want. Burnout has cornered me into believing that I will never accomplish what I want. That I will never care. Never grow. Never be passionate again. Burnout has pumped poisonous lies into my bloodstream and I'm scared I will never wash clean.
Daniel Taylor wrote, "Freedom is useless if we don't exercise it as characters making choices... We are free to change the stories by which we live. Because we are genuine characters, and not mere puppets, we can choose our defining stories. We can do so because we actively participate in the creation of our stories. We are co-authors as well as characters. Few things are as encouraging as the realization that things can be different and that we can have a role in making them so."
Burnout wants to claim my life, my thoughts, my time, my last 25 days at work. But I believe in change, in growth. I believe I can change; things can look different.
The best analogy I can come up with for my current state is that of a depressed person who has decided to move forward with treatment (medicine and counseling), but who hasn't yet started the treatment yet. I know a break is what I need. A new country, a new job, a new challenge give me hope of healing, but I'm not there yet.
But even now, before the metaphorical drugs kick in, I can take baby steps. I can choose health. I can choose to fight the lies. I can have a role in making things look different. And I can give myself grace when change is slow going.
I am taking an important step. Desperate times call for desperate measures: I'm starting a twelve week program to sober up from my toxic thoughts. More like a twelve-week challenge to foster creative freedom. To bring back that loving feeling.
One of my wonderful coworkers bought me The Artist's Way at Work. I've gone through The Artist's Way before and have been transformed by the weeks of intentional focus on creativity. In creating, I experience God.
Like the writers of The Artist's Way, I am strong believer that "The Great Creator has gifted us with creativity. Our gift back is our use of it."
Even in this time of burnout, I will fight for my creativity. I will choose to start this program now. I will choose to believe that things can look different. That I can experience His joy now.
If you're a creative, or a blocked creative, or a wannabe creative, I highly recommend The Artist's Way-- either for work or the original. There are a ton of really cool exercises to combat our inner critics, to nurture our dreams, and to enjoy the great gifts our Creator has given us and to learn to use them to bring healing and hope to our world.
Exercise by exercise, page by page, and week by week, I will use my words to glorify The Word. I'm excited to share how God moves, and I will pass along useful tips and assignments to help you in your own creative journey.
The Carnival in a Cubicle
Thank you, God, that you will restore my joy.
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| Day 30: "Welcome to the "It's Aly's last day working with Christi" fiesta. |