I have always considered myself a late bloomer. I didn’t discover my musical ability until my early twenties. I couldn’t choose a major to save my life in college, and I didn’t start writing until my late thirties. I have always been one of many passions, unable to choose which path to follow. The lingering pressure of needing to find a career got mixed up with following the desires of my heart. So I became a wondered, a dabbler, a jack of all trades. I became proficient in circling the plane but was never great at choosing, let alone landing it on a particular runway. So it feels like a small miracle when I actually finish the things I start.
Like my monthly book club book.
This past weekend, I finished two things simultaneously: The largest fundraiser of the year I coordinator for my job at a local non-profit (hence why you are getting this essay on a Monday) and Beth Moore’s memoir “All My Noted Up Life”. These two events stirred up memories of a young girl trying to find her way, shifting through all her passions to find the ONE that will make her happy (and also pay the bills). But she never found it. I never found it. Until I did, but not till much later, and not in any way I thought.
I coordinated the hell out of this past weekend’s event because, at some point in my journey, I wanted to be a wedding coordinator. So I did that for a time only to discover it was a fleeting passion that left me with both the frustration of returning to the drawing board and a whole set of skills I didn’t know what to do with. It feels good to know those skills haven’t been wasted on a passionate whim.
Once the event was over, I drove my packed car of teacups back to the rental place to return them. On the way I finished Beth Moore’s book “All My Knotted Up Life”. There are not many books that make me cry but this one did. When I was in one of my darkest seasons during my early twenties, I did an independent study of her “Breaking Free” devotional. Each morning I would wake up early to give myself enough time to walk to my school’s tiny chapel and do a chapter. It was exactly what my wounded soul needed. I have always loved her. My heart broke for her as the South Baptist Convention, the denomination she gave her life to for over 40 years, crucified her over speaking out against their crimes of hiding sexual abuse and their Christian Nationalism.
I don’t read many memoirs but hers is a story worth reading. It reminded me of a passion of mine that has resurfaced over and over again. This passion I assumed was fleeting like many of them but in actuality, it kept getting buried.
I love the Bible, and God, and the Church (the Universal Church of Jesus).
This passion has resurfaced in a myriad of ways from being a worship leader, to attending Bible College then subsequently would get buried under the pressure to find a career that would actually pay the bills. Because until Beth Moore, I wasn’t willing to stuff my passion into a tiny box that only allowed me to minister to women. Nor did it feel right to make myself be “less” so that the men in the room would know, that I knew my place. But unfortunately, that didn’t leave me with many options. I must say, I am thankful for the ministry of Beth Moore and her faithfulness to her passion, regardless of it only being to women. It brought healing to my soul all those years ago.
Perhaps it has been pride all these years that has buried my passion to teach. Maybe it was the other shiny but fleeting passions distracting me away from it. Regardless, this one has staying power and there’s something to that.
Currently and ironically, I am teaching Bible to a small group of women who are in our long-term recovery program at the non-profit I work for. It’s just an hour a week but I look forward to it every Wednesday. This past week, one of the gals came to me afterward and told me she begged one of the other staff to take her kids for an hour so she could be present because this was her favorite class of the semester. My heart melted. I love watching people grow in their desire to learn about the Bible and God. It literally makes me giddy! Reading Moore’s memoir reminded me of this, even as I was sitting in my car, sweaty and tired from the work of a completely different passion. Not a competing one. Just different. Not a passion for life but one that pays the bills.
It has taken me over twenty years to realize I was never going to find my dream job that enabled me to pursue all my passions. Unlike Beth Moore who built a career out of her passion, I was never going to do that, nor did I want to. I have never been drawn to women’s ministry and yet, here I am, swallowing my pride, teaching women and coordinating fundraising events. But much like Moore, our lives are all knotted up, held together by the loving hands of God.
We may think our life is a tangled-up mess, with wasted stands left usable but it’s not. God is an expert weaver of all that is frayed, braiding colors together we thought would clash. The passions and desires that have left us confused and frustrated may have simply been the short strands but there are always, always the longer threads. They might get lost in the mix at times, and we may lose sight of their purpose but they are the ones pulling in, tying up, and weaving together all our knotted up lives.
Photo by Stephane Gagnon on Unsplash
Amen ❤️