Monday, June 22, 2020

The Hard Work of Becoming Better

It’s hard work improving. It’s not always easy becoming the person we were created to be.

Maybe I’m no worse than most, but I’m the kind of person who generally prefers to take the easy or fun way when it comes to any obstacle or challenge. I’d rather ride the chair lift with my bike or skis than ‘earn my turns’ through a grueling uphill. I’ll run, but only if I’m dribbling a soccer- or basketball. Give me the fun of rock climbing over the taxing ascent of mountain climbing any day. If I can avoid the hard work and still get the fun, I’ll do that all day, every day.

And that’s true for me emotionally, relationally, and spiritually too—as I constantly push back against the difficulty of development, the inconvenience of improvement.

I was thinking about that part of my personality again last night—as I was dying after mile two of five on a long, arduous climb on my mountain bike. I don’t like to work hard. I have no patience for things not going well or simply. I love it when life is easy and fun. It’s best when everything just works out nicely and neatly.

But, of course, that’s rarely how life goes—and certainly not the way progress and maturity work. Growth is a grind. It takes effort and intentionality, humility and hope, perseverance and patience. And usually (and unfortunately) it takes sacrifice and surrender. If we want to be a better person, spouse, friend, and neighbor, it’s going to take effort. If we want to grow in our faith and follow Jesus more closely, it’s going to be costly and challenging.

But, of course, the hard work is worth it.

Despite the fact that I despise the difficulty and detest the needed dedication, the grueling grind is always worth the effort. You get to that peak, take in the beauty of God’s creation, and then get to soar down the mountain in sheer delight. You agonize over those papers and cram for those exams, but you one-day find yourself walking across that stage to receive your diploma. You suffer through the hard work of breaking that habit, fixing that relationship, or starting that new practice, only to realize that the end result was absolutely worth the work.

And even when the finished product isn’t perfect or great or even good, I almost always find that the arduous journey was still worthwhile—that something profound and transformational happened through the process, not just in the product.

So, even though it’s easier to remain stagnant, not change, and never push ourselves to be better, let’s remain committed to the lifelong process of growth and discipleship—of mastering the art of living and becoming more in-tune with the ways of God’s kingdom. Let’s be willing to do whatever hard things are required of us to grow and mature in faith.

Paul tells the Philippian church that “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice.” That sounds like pretty good advice to me. So, let’s be intentional about focusing on the ways of God and disciplined to do the hard work it will takes to become, even more, the people of God.

Monday, June 8, 2020

An Existential Exhaustion

I’ve been unusually tired lately, and until last night, I couldn’t figure out why. I’ve been going to bed earlier than usual to combat my fatigue, sleeping in a little longer, when I can, to battle against this weariness, and even recently had a week of vacation at our cabin to relax and refresh. Yet I still feel tired and worn-out, constantly dwelling in a state of exhaustion.

And it’s been confusing to process and challenging to verbalize, because it’s not just physical tiredness I’m experiencing—it’s also some sort of spiritual and emotional fatigue. The best way I’ve found to describe what I’m feeling is existential exhaustion—being tired, worn out, and depleted at my core. But I wasn’t able to understand and name why this was happening until last night, through a conversation with Mandy.

I think it’s all connected, for me, to Facebook.

I’m not alone in this, but the last three months of my communal and pastoral life have been spent on social media. I’ve been almost exclusively a phone-based friend and an online pastor. Facebook has been my home—my primary connection to the outside world, including the congregation I serve.

But as you all know, Facebook, now more than ever, is a place of divisiveness and hostility. Everyone has an opinion, no one is agenda-less, and most people hold their opinions with far-too-much certainty. So, when you combine that with the fact that misinformation abounds, from all parts of the political spectrum, it makes for strange and strained relational dynamics. Facebook is a dangerous place to live right now, rife with political, racial, and social landmines that might explode with any false step.

And that’s what I find to be existentially exhausting.

I’ve only just begun to recognize it, but as a human, friend, and pastor, I’m finding it downright draining to navigate the information and misinformation, opinions and reflections, posts and comments of Facebook on a minute-by-minute basis. As someone who seeks to avoid the fray of partisan politics as much as possible, has family and friends on both sides of nearly every issue, and who pastors a church of immense political diversity, I’m finding it incredibly difficult to know how to be faithfully and pastorally present on Facebook.

If someone shares an article or a comment that I agree with, how do I respond? What message am I sending through a ‘like’ or a comment? Is that the message I want to publicly display?

If someone shares or comments in a way I disagree with, how do I proceed? Do I push back? Do I let it go? And then if I do let it go, I find myself mulling over what I *would* have said had I *not* let it go?

And what do I personally share or not share? Or if I share something or comment and someone pushes back against me, do I respond or let it go? And what do I say and how do I best say it?

It’s all very confusing and frustrating. But what I’m just now realizing is that it’s also quite debilitating. It’s stealing my soul, robbing my energy, and distracting me from what’s really important. I find myself thinking about these questions way too much, and it’s taking a toll on my body, mind, and soul—not to mention my ability to be present and attentive to God, my family, my friends, and the world.

So, I’m stepping away from Facebook for a little while, to give myself space to rest, heal, and focus on what’s really important. I need a social media detox. I’m deleting the Facebook app from my phone and will only use it for my job, including live streaming our worship gatherings. Any Facebook posts you see will have been automatically linked from Instagram, which is a fun resource for connecting with friends and not an exhausting platform for debating and arguing issues. I have no idea how long this Facebook Fast will last, but I’m excited to see how my body, mind, and soul might heal from this existential exhaustion.

[Note: if you want to reach me, please do so via phone/text (406-581-0749), email (jasonbowker1@gmail.com), or Facebook Messenger]