"He also said to them, "Amen, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the kingdom of God has come in power." After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain apart by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no fuller on earth could bleach them. Then Elijah appeared to them along with Moses, and they were conversing with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, "Rabbi, it is good that we are here! Let us make three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He hardly knew what to say, they were so terrified. Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them; then from the cloud came a voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him." Suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone but Jesus alone with them." - Mark 9:1-9
So February 15th marked my last day at Shell, which was a moment in the making for a long time.
Over the last few weeks prior to my departured, I'd received many accolades, referring to my courage and generosity, but to be quite honest, over the last few months, I've felt broken, uncertain, and scared.
I was introduced to St. John of the Cross over a year ago at a talk about Mother Teresa. Although I think I had heard this before the talk, my interest was piqued by the "dark night" that she had experienced throughout her ministry. Although my calling to leave Shell and go into AmeriCorps isn't quite as on par as starting the Missionaries of Charity, I feel that I'm in some sort of accord with what she had experienced.
My uncertainties with my leap of faith haven't really been founded on whether or not I would like my work -- I feel that I will and that it is where my talents and my passion lies. My uncertainty is founded on making this leap of faith and having no insurance of a safety net to catch me if I don't have the wings to fly. I've made some wonderful connections and friendships over these last 2 1/2 years in New Orleans, but I feel that this leap will be a true test of the strength of those friendships. I'm not sure if I want to test them, for fear of what the results might be, for fear of finding out who passes and who fails.
When I started this blog and was thinking about designing it, I immediately was drawn to a photo I had taken on Mount Tabor of the Church of the Transfiguration, which is now the background photo. During the week that I'd left Shell, I'd been praying and reflecting on the Marcan version of the Transfiguration narrative over the past week, in an attempt to make sense of how to relate these events to the current context of my life at this point.
Prior to the Transfiguration narrative, Jesus told the disciples of his fate, that this person that they believe to be their Messiah would be crucified on a cross. Given the understanding that they would have had of the Messiah and what it ought to be in terms of being the new deliverer this ought to have been a painful pill to swallow. And then, of course, six days later, Jesus takes them up the mountain and transfigures before them, revealing his divinity and confirming that he is the Son of God.
The part that resonated most in my reflection was not the fact that Peter wanted to build the tabernacles or tents, which is the part that is focused on most often (in my experience) during homilies and written reflections, but on how fleeting the experience was. I have paralleled this with my own recent experiences of feeling empty and alone and how the glimpses of hope and community that I see, many times in unexpected situations, are few and far between.
I've also been using this thinking to prepare for the future. As a results- and task-oriented person, I know that it will take time for relationships to build and for the fruits of my labor to mature. I'm preparing myself for resistance and frustration and regret over my decision. I hold fast to this Scripture to prepare myself for the obstacles that lie ahead.
Over the last few weeks prior to my departured, I'd received many accolades, referring to my courage and generosity, but to be quite honest, over the last few months, I've felt broken, uncertain, and scared.
I was introduced to St. John of the Cross over a year ago at a talk about Mother Teresa. Although I think I had heard this before the talk, my interest was piqued by the "dark night" that she had experienced throughout her ministry. Although my calling to leave Shell and go into AmeriCorps isn't quite as on par as starting the Missionaries of Charity, I feel that I'm in some sort of accord with what she had experienced.
My uncertainties with my leap of faith haven't really been founded on whether or not I would like my work -- I feel that I will and that it is where my talents and my passion lies. My uncertainty is founded on making this leap of faith and having no insurance of a safety net to catch me if I don't have the wings to fly. I've made some wonderful connections and friendships over these last 2 1/2 years in New Orleans, but I feel that this leap will be a true test of the strength of those friendships. I'm not sure if I want to test them, for fear of what the results might be, for fear of finding out who passes and who fails.
When I started this blog and was thinking about designing it, I immediately was drawn to a photo I had taken on Mount Tabor of the Church of the Transfiguration, which is now the background photo. During the week that I'd left Shell, I'd been praying and reflecting on the Marcan version of the Transfiguration narrative over the past week, in an attempt to make sense of how to relate these events to the current context of my life at this point.
Prior to the Transfiguration narrative, Jesus told the disciples of his fate, that this person that they believe to be their Messiah would be crucified on a cross. Given the understanding that they would have had of the Messiah and what it ought to be in terms of being the new deliverer this ought to have been a painful pill to swallow. And then, of course, six days later, Jesus takes them up the mountain and transfigures before them, revealing his divinity and confirming that he is the Son of God.
The part that resonated most in my reflection was not the fact that Peter wanted to build the tabernacles or tents, which is the part that is focused on most often (in my experience) during homilies and written reflections, but on how fleeting the experience was. I have paralleled this with my own recent experiences of feeling empty and alone and how the glimpses of hope and community that I see, many times in unexpected situations, are few and far between.
I've also been using this thinking to prepare for the future. As a results- and task-oriented person, I know that it will take time for relationships to build and for the fruits of my labor to mature. I'm preparing myself for resistance and frustration and regret over my decision. I hold fast to this Scripture to prepare myself for the obstacles that lie ahead.
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