I saw this meme lurking around the High Calling Blog collection (a fun network of people that I recommend you check out if you haven’t already) but thought, what odd job have I done? I skipped it. Then Brandon tagged me, and I can’t very well go ignoring good tags now, can I? Which means I’m doing a meme and combining it with some unformed thoughts rattling around in my head about my job now. First the rules (because you can’t have a game without rules–I tried once, and while it was fun for me, no one else wanted to play again):

1. Write about the Strangest Job I Ever Had and tell what I learned from it.

2. Link to other “Lessons from Odd Jobs” posts.

3. Tag my post “Lessons from Odd Jobs”.

4. Tag other bloggers, in or out of the HC network. (I tag Michelle, Tanya, and Pam because they’re three good story-tellers.)

5. Link back to the Lessons from Odd Jobs page and and email this month’s host at “Marcus AT highcallingblogs DOT com”.

As I said, I’ve never had an odd job. I’ve been a janitor, a worship administrator, a women’s ministry intern, a pharmaceutical tech, a music librarian, a medical receptionist, and a musician. I’ve babysat, edited, taught flute and piano lessons, played odd gigs at odd places, composed, and entered mass amounts of data. I’ve learned that author’s are touchy, the floor of a man’s bathroom is always sticky, and certain pills smell good.

But the strangest job I’ve ever had: a writer.

Who else gets away with hearing voices in their heads? Who else can zone out of conversations while creating alternate realities and have a legitimate excuse?

This brings me to the tweaking part of the meme. The wilderness part. You guys were with me as I wrote about becoming me, the imaginative theologian who loves the arts. It’s who I am. I have visions of the Church being a patron of the arts, of incarnating Christ through art, of being a beacon of creativity. I have a desire to help shepherd and guide artists and lead them in spiritual formation. Something (or Someone, I should say) pushes me to do more with my writing, to work harder, to be excellence (by the way, there’s a good article, The Habit of Excellence, up at The High Calling this week), to embody the sufferings and the hope of resurrection.

I’m an artist.

Or am I?

I’m a mediocre musician and a rookie writer. Am I an artist?

I’m in a place of stripping and purging. I prayed for insignificance that God would strip away my pride.

And He’s answering it.

I read last night in Dark Night of the Soulthat in the purging process, there’s a time when the soul feels rejected by God.

I’m in that process. Some of it, I suspect, is God telling me, No, that’s not what I have for you when I take on jobs impetuously. Some of it is an answer to that prayer for insignificance. Some of it, I don’t understand.

I feel alone. I feel useless. I’ve been in this wilderness for four years. God reveals things now and again, like oases. A couple years ago, I started writing. I thought, now we’re getting somewhere!

Only I’m not anywhere.

It’s not that I don’t love my job and my life. I teach flute and piano. I spend most of the day writing. And I’m heading up a new group blog for bible.org (more on that later). I love my job(s).

But I wonder if God loves them. If He loves them, why doesn’t He use them? If He loves them, why doesn’t He give me that bit of encouragement when I ask for it?

So the oddest part of my odd job: watching everything be stripped away.

I can’t help but think of the part in the Maundy Thursday service when the priests stripped the altar. Christ’s presence gone (metaphorically speaking).

I can’t help but think of Mary meeting Christ in the garden, of the travelers meeting Christ on the road to Emmaus, of the disciples meeting Christ in the locked room.

I warned you that these thoughts are unformed, swimming around without a dock. Next week, I’m going to the symposium, Transforming Culture: A Vision for the Church and the Arts. I’m looking forward to refreshment. I’m looking forward to just being who I am, an imaginative theologian, and perhaps, an artist.

My soul belongs to God, I know
I made that bargain long ago
He gave me hope when hope was gone
He gave me strength to journey on

Who am I?
I’m 24601!