This year has been hard. Winter blues hit me hard in January. I felt like I was just trying to keep my head above water with the sea of life moving quickly around me. I’m once again thankful for the Church calendar which prompted me to have a spiritual reset.
I’ve been doing a devotional this Lenten season (40 Days of Decrease: A Different Kind of Hunger. A Different Kind of Fast. by Alicia Britt Chole). I’m grateful for the book because it has gently prompted me to examine and put to words a lot of what I’ve been feeling over the last few months.
One of the daily devotionals focused on Jesus’ prayer in the garden “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.” The related reflection question was “What cup would you rather not drink?” My thoughts below are an answer to that question.
“I don’t want to be a theologian.” I’ve said this phrase more times than I can count over the years. When I’ve said this in the past, I’ve meant that I don’t want to be expected to be an academic expert on theological topics. I don’t really care that much about Greek words. I don’t find much interest in reading academic articles. When I was coming to terms with my sexuality in college and shortly after, I spent a lot of time studying theology. I read so many books. I spent a lot of time reading different perspectives on specific phrases and what ancient writers were trying to communicate. I learned about church tradition on marriage. I spent hours listening to podcasts so I could hear as many different perspectives as I could so that I could get to the truth.
But, all that time studying didn’t stop the nightmares. It did not stop me waking up in the middle of the night in cold sweat after a dream about burning in hell.
It was Jesus who ultimately answered my real questions and quieted my fears. I had a profound experience that has shaped my life up and until now. After that experience, I focused more on the Gospels and falling more in love with Jesus. And that choice saved me.
But now years later, when I say “I don’t want to be a theologian”, I have to be honest with myself. I mean something different. I don’t want to lead. I don’t want to be looked to for an answer or asked to provide evidence. I don’t want to be seen as exemplary. It’s no longer about the Greek words. It’s about not wanting to stand out. It’s about a preference to not be seen.
I want a quiet life. I want a small house with a partner who loves me. I want a job that’s meaningful but doesn’t require too much of me. I desire to love Jesus. I desire to be known by Him but in the quiet of my own journal.
And in many ways, I know that this isn't a wrong impulse. Paul calls believers “to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life” (1 Thessalonians 4:11 NIV). God desires me to live at peace. God wants me to have the community I crave and wants me to love and be loved. But again, I have to be honest with myself.
I know that I’m really just afraid. It’s not really about a quiet life. I’m afraid that if people look to me as an example that they will be disappointed. I’m afraid that if I truly lead with the gifts I have I will lose myself somehow in the process. I’m afraid to take the risk that doing more requires. It’s a false humility. It’s a fear of trying and failing. I worry for my own soul. I worry that I don’t have enough faith to stay close to God in the spotlight. So, I say “I don’t want to be a theologian” rather than lean into what Jesus might be calling me to do.
“What cup would I rather not drink?” I know that Jesus isn’t calling me to be an academic. He doesn’t need me to be back reading articles about Greek words. But, He is calling me to do more. And I’ve been silencing that call. I keep asking Jesus for another way and He keeps pointing to one that requires leadership. Why? Doesn’t he see how insufficient I am? Too proud. Too insecure. Too sinful.
Like the last character in the Parable of the Talents (Mathew 25:14-30), I’m burying the gift that God has given me. Over the last year, I’ve been asked to step into leadership roles more and more. I keep having people in my life asking me to share more of myself. Are these signs from God? Is God desiring me to grow into who He created me to be? Why do I keep ending up in situations where I am called upon? If I am too afraid to drink the cup of leadership, will I be able to see miracles? Am I willing to reject the will of the One I love?
I don’t really know the answer to these questions. I need more time to pray but I resolve to be faithful to whatever answer I hear. Why? Because I can’t allow my statement of “I don’t want to be a theologian” to turn into “I don’t want to be a disciple of Christ.”
Thank you for reading my reflections. I covet your prayers as I continue to seek God’s will in my own life. My prayer for you is that my thoughts will help you to answer the question for yourself “What cup would I rather not drink?”
My sister is such a beautiful writer and thinker. Can’t wait for more