"So you graduated with a degree in Film Production, but instead you chose to go into ministry and be a missionary," she inquired.
I tilted my head at her, unsure. "I'm not sure what you mean by ministry or missionary but I suppose that's one way of looking at it, though those are not the words I would use to describe what I do or my life."
It was a strange moment in the conversation. I was watching someone from the outside looking into my life and trying to put it into conventional boxes that made sense to her. After a few questions, she told me confidently that I was doing ministry. I think her confidence in labeling my life was more for her than for me.
She stared at me, inquisitive. "You're an example of living into your passions. I talk with so many students who are majoring in one thing because of the money or because their parents tell them too but you're a living example of what it looks like to live into your passions."
I didn't tell her that I wanted to kill myself 3.5 years ago and that's why I decided to "live into my passions." That probably wouldn't have done well for the conversation.
We ended our conversation with her saying she would love if I came and spoke on a panel to her class of 80+ students. I stated that if it fit into my schedule, I would absolutely be open to doing that. As I walked out of her office, I felt like I was in another dimension.
What just happened? How the hell did I get to a point where I was being asked to speak in front of classes as if I have something to share and give? What is going on?
In many ways I haven't processed my story since Mission Year. The last 3.5 years of my life have been a daily walk of trust that God would lead me without a larger vocational blueprint after I dropped film. Directionless, I prayed daily after my time in the psych ward "Use me," less as a pious desire and more as a logical and cynical statement because I wanted to kill myself and didn't want my life so God (whoever that was) could have it because I was stuck on this earth anyway even though it was hell. (This was the state of my mind.)
It's not that I hated life it's just that I couldn't see how things could get better (socially, interpersonally, everything) and when you don't see how things will get better hopelessness makes sense and numbness is a by-product of a logical thought pattern. And no "Hallmark goody goody" hope phrase can get you out of that space. You're pretty much done for.
My experience with depression has been the pivotal point in my life. It is a journey that in many ways I have had to walk through by myself (though many have walked with me in ways that they were able.) It has been a deeply spiritual journey, one that has formed me in ways I have yet to put into words. In that space I had to muster up the resilience of my soul to seek the joy, beauty, and gratitude when my mind would tell me that these don't exist (and has really good arguments for saying so). It was the point when I had to choose to believe that even though I didn't feel the beauty of the flower that the beauty was still there. My feeling one way or another did not determine the truth that was--the flower was beautiful.
This has been the anchor for my soul prone to deep pain, depression, and anguish. Even if I do not feel the beauty of the flower this does not negate that the beauty isn't there. Truth is apart from my feelings and logic. Yes, life is painful and difficult, full of stress. In fact, I would argue that logically there is no reason to be alive (Ecclesiastes is my favorite book of the Bible.) The world is one massive shit-hole (pardon my language). The anchor that keeps me grounded is Truth, which means something different for me than it may mean for you.
Grounded in Truth, I see the healing is in the midst of pain, the resurrection in the midst of death, the reconciliation in the midst of separation--the beauty is in the cracks of the pain spaces.
It is in this paradox that I have chosen to live, because I have found it to be home.
So when you say, professor, that I'm "living into my passions," I'm not quite sure I agree with you. You see, 3.5 years ago in college I decided to live into and lean into the pain--of myself, of my neighbors, of the world, of my Christ.
And that choice has made all the difference.
(I'm not sure that's exactly the message you want your students to hear.)
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