There is a certain ease in attaching ourselves to what we do. More than that, perhaps even an anxiousness to do something, anything, particularly by way of our vocation, that gives us a sense of self. A sense of (here’s that buzz word again) identity. Not only have we found ourselves in our vocation, but we expect to find it in others too. If we want to get to know someone we ask “What do you do?” Actually I remember that form of a question starting in college. “What’s your major?” In other words, I know nothing about you now, but what you hope to do when we no longer walk this same campus will help me understand who you are today. Although let’s go back even further than that. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Notice, not simply “do”: what will you work towards, or what will bide your time, or keep you active, or support your family, or speak to your interests. No. Instead, “What do you want to BE…” Choose carefully little one, because what you choose will define the very essence of who you are. At least, that’s what we’re suggesting, isn’t it? And perhaps even what we have come to believe.
If indeed that is the case, and what you do in your day to day that expends your energy and supports yourself or your family is intimately connected with the very essence of who you are, then what happens when what you do is no longer needed?
Only a few months ago a conversation with fellow leaders in my place of work – a church – had me keenly aware of what I may have already expected; the way in which I was leading was no longer wanted. Granted I was given an opportunity to change my approach, but the roots planted in the course of 15 years in ministry had grown too deep and embedded themselves too profoundly into my soul. In many ways my leadership was an extension of myself, and remains to be, even without the grasp of an organized entity. Yet I was posed with an internal question that I had to answer: “Have you, Jennifer, been defined by the task you were given now that it is gone?”
Allow me to dig into some ancient text with you for just a moment, as I find this to be so profound. A man by the name of Paul wrote a letter to the Hebrew people, those of Jewish heritage who diligently practiced the law of their faith with cleansing rituals and animal offerings. The priests had standards even above and beyond in acting as an acceptable agent between God and his people. So what kind of humble-check can you imagine they felt when Paul reminds them of the words of Jesus: “‘You [God] have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt sacrifices and sin offerings’. . . He [Jesus] does away with the first in order to establish the second.” (referenced out of the letter to the Hebrews) Here is this Jesus who in essence is saying “Even though all those offerings and rituals you performed under the law, albeit established by God himself, were fine for their appointed time, God doesn’t need them anymore.”
Are you catching this? These people built their whole lives, perhaps even their identity, on the customs their Jewish heritage established and out of a deep faith for God, yet they were being asked to turn form all of that under this new grace of Jesus, for it was no longer necessary. You may have well as taken that “it” and substituted the word “you”. You are no longer necessary.
Now surely, and as is spoken to the Jewish people again and again, there was no devaluing going on here. But there was a change in occupation, and if the actions had rooted themselves deeply enough to define the person, then Jesus’ words would surely not be well received – perhaps a reason he was so hated by religious leaders. He threatened not only the position they enjoyed the accolades of, but he threatened their identity.
I believe Jesus intended for himself to be the reason – ones source of identity – and everything done inside of that would be subject to change since the reason is not the work itself. Yet pride often breaks through the surface and we parade our efforts with little regard – or at least a lost regard – for the truth that the way we get somewhere is actually not the point. The way is just a means, and you are found in so much more than the grind.
EXPOSITION: Let’s internalize that initial question. What happens when the work to which you have dedicated yourself is no longer needed in the way it had so far been? When you lose your job, or your children leave the home, or there’s been a shift in management. How much have you let that childhood question resonate, where the goal of what you do somehow found its way to the hierarchy of defining who you are?
RISE: Now let’s see if one can feasibly put themselves fully into their work, not only in invested time or out of duty, but out of passion and purpose, without the work deceiving its possessor to think that you are lesser without it.
Scene I: List a few ways that you can use your passions and skill sets in a role outside of the one you currently possess. No need to quit your job! Simply use this as an opportunity to remember that you need not be defined by the parameters of your current role, even a role you are passionate about.
Scene II: Consider a different way to approach your current role. Maybe someone has suggested you do things differently, or you came across an ideology contrary to your own. For when a time comes that your approach is not given the precedence it may once have, your not having identified yourself too intricately with your work or your way will allow you to move forward in wisdom and not as a response to a wounded sense of self.
DENOUEMENT: “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”