RECENTLY, a dear friend of mine
prayed that there might be a rich deposit made by God in me to mark my turning
50. It was a prayer that coalesced with God’s own voice which I’ve been hearing
for some time. And it just may be you, too, have been hearing Him speak this
thing, all-be-it unconsciously.
God has been showing me two
different things over the past few years — my gift and my shadow. That gift He
has given me is a compensation for what I’ve been through. But the shadow is
the dark, human, sinful side of that gift that protrudes when I take my eyes off
Jesus.
My gift is this: God gave me a passion and equipped me for joining others on
their journey — “to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to mourn with those who
mourn,” as Romans 12:15 puts it. I know my gift is to be used to unlock or
facilitate victories of connection, where the Divine Presence is felt in human experience,
where there is the discovery of deeper truths, where encounters of
contemplative and transformational spirituality take place. And reconciliation is usually the purpose for
which people come to be served by me. It’s a ministry that is seamless and
involves me just being me.
My shadow is this: my flesh (my ego) gives me a similar passion, but the passion,
when it’s directed awry, is skewed back toward myself; where my shadow
protrudes into my life I need to be loved, accepted, understood, appreciated,
praised, respected. I look outward to leaders and peers for these things,
instead of upward to God and inward for reflection. I don’t typically seek
these things from those I serve, but validation is sought from those whose influence
(I perceive) is typically greater than mine. God certainly knows I need these
victories of connection. But I can go about them the wrong way, looking to
humans to do what only God can do.
That’s the difference between the
gift and the shadow; the gift prevails effortlessly, because God is in it and
being used by God as gift is always a
pleasure. It doesn’t seem like work at all. But just like humans would be
cursed to labour at and after the Fall, the shadow toils relentlessly to get
what it can never have. The shadow enters futility, but the Divine embodies the
gift.
The first fifty years has been
about receiving the nucleus of the message. The next portion is about
acquisition, more and more; piquing the awareness of the shadow’s protrusion as
it becomes the mastery of poise. But I will never fully be there.
I thank God for the awareness of,
and increasing mastery over, the shadow that will always be there. I thank God
because I need God.
Thank God for your gift, and be
open to your shadow.
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