The Pain of Spiritual Evolution

Deep inside our yearning hearts we desire personal significance. We are hoping and praying that we can make a difference, that we have value, and that we can instill value in others. The flippantly coined “missional” conversation becomes complex, dirty, and seemingly hopeless when we are faced with the realities of living in it. All of a sudden, the clean and polished product that we attempt to create for ourselves over casual cups of coffee – with all of our note writing and head nodding and all of our good intentions – becomes a hot mess of discomfort, uncertainty, and anxious panic. We ask ourselves, “Is this what it feels like to completely give up control?” This – all of what “this” is – is not a disciplined breakdown, but it is, in essence, the artful process of becoming that which we have sought after – a life that many Christians sing of endlessly in worship without a context of suffering – a life of faithful living and dying.

The year I turned thirty was the year all of my ambitions and hopes came to a halt – a crash, really. Through my twenties, I developed a deep love for the church, aspiring to bridge the gap in communicating the gospel to this generation of teenager. This hope grew in my undergraduate studies; this hope became strengthened but partnered with a healthy, critical caution through seminary, and it grew local roots. I did not have an “aha!” moment that propelled me out of this context; I experienced an emerging transformation that led not up to a breaking point but to a place of becoming.

There is a great difference when one wants to give up. Life gets complex, difficult. Circumstances change. Evolving is different than changing scenery.

We arrive in the position to decide whether or not we want to settle. “Is this really what I want to be doing for the rest of my life?”… “Is this what I was meant for?”… I do not mean this in a romantic way in the slightest. The reality is that many of us make decisions based on money or location but still have a missing part of ourselves that we seem to always be chasing. This is where I found myself. Everything was going pretty well for me, so why was I unsettled?

Puberty. No one likes it. It is awkward, scary. It is a time of transition, of change, of becoming adults. I felt as if my life and my ministry were changing. I was not losing hope in what I was doing; I was growing into a more mature version of myself with a scope much wider than what I had previously given myself (or God for that matter) credit for. This was my act of becoming. An act that came with difficult decisions, an uprooting that would lead me to become rooted again, a severance to be reconnected, a trade of comfort for discomfort and uncertainty – a death that has begun to lay the groundwork for new life.