Discernment (It's a long and personal one)

I think it’s been a little less than a month since the last time I wrote. This is not for lack of  thoughts or happenings. In fact, the exact opposite, lack of time. 

I’m writing today because I got hit hard in spiritual direction over the weekend. I’ve been struggling for basically the past year (and, actually, most of my life) to figure out God’s call. For me, that’s lodged somewhere between medicine and ministry. I feel called to medicine for a couple days and then flip to ministry for a few and then back. I wrestled with the two for several months around this time last year and then was given the wise advice to simply rest with the decision in God’s presence. It was hard at first, but eventually it got easier. I still had occasional panic attacks about what I was doing with my life, but they became much less frequent (short blips of time rather than a continuous state). I had entered this year in JVC as a “year of jubilee” (credit to my previous spiritual director), ready to feel out the ministry side of myself that I had never experienced professionally. But things never really work out as you planned. I told Fr. Steve, my current spiritual director, earlier this year that one of the things I’ve struggled with was this vocational decision. That came to a pinnacle this weekend. 

I was telling Fr. Steve about a recent request I made at Ward. I asked the administration if I could not teach next semester and instead devote all my time to campus ministry, really building up their currently lackluster program. I was telling Fr. Steve that I would really like to do campus ministry full time, but that I recognized my primary purpose this year was to serve the needs of Bishop Ward, which might mean continuing to teach. He said that was a great example of what the Jesuits call Principle and Foundation (see the Spiritual Exercises). From what I understand, this is the exercise that asks us to acknowledge our gifts and talents and preferences/attachments, while also taking into account our primary purpose in life-- glorifying God. Ignatius calls for indifference in these matters. I told Fr. Steve, I’m great at indifference. I can pull myself completely out of my emotions and preferences no problem; objectively evaluate any situation with ease. Fr. Steve informed me that’s not what indifference means. It’s a balancing of two real, true purposes. It’s feeling our attachments and preferences and yet being willing to sacrifice those for a higher purpose. Damn. 

So when he asked me where else in my life I can apply this, eventually I named my vocational struggle. After externally processing for awhile, I realized that I don’t attach myself to any vocational ideas because I’m afraid of having to give them up. I’d rather just not be attached and have someone tell me what the right choice is. Then there isn’t any pain. 

Well, it’s been a couple years, and I have yet to hear any clear, crisp instructions from God. Which probably means it’s about time to open up my heart, even if that means letting it bleed. 

I spent a good hour and a half doing that tonight. I think I can safely say that, at least tonight, I do not want to be a doctor. (This is a big admission. Please appreciate.) I’ve had more than a few people here tell me that they can see a spark in me when I’m talking about ministry. I have to admit they’re right. I am passionate about theology. My faith is my home. I get so excited thinking about ways to minister to people, specifically young adults. I can even notice how animated I become in discussions about ministry. It’s something I’m wholly devoted to. 

Medicine has always been an interest of mine. This dates back to high school, when I was planning my life at 16. I had decided that since I was good at science and math and evidently had a social inclination (I did not like my shelving job at the library), medicine was my perfect career. I held that decision throughout college because it fit. I was always asking questions in biology and chemistry about how something worked or applying the knowledge to the human body. I shadowed what felt like innumerable physicians and always liked being a part of that culture. I loved the questions I got to ask in biomedical ethics research. I was fascinated by the health care system. I love being the person people turn to with medical problems. I love being able to deduce a problem based on my knowledge and devise a solution. However, I have a really hard time articulating my desire to be in medicine. I always thought it was because it was a feeling/calling simply not easily communicated, but I’m starting to wonder if that’s really the case. 

I’ve pondered for several months now the role pride plays in my desire for medicine. I’m not a quitter and I don’t like saying no to things. I came into college pre-med and slowly watched our numbers dwindle as each year passed. Even if it had occurred to me to consider something besides medicine, I’m not sure I would have easily switched focuses. It would’ve felt like giving up. Even now, some part of me cringes at having to “eat my words” and inform everyone in my life of my change in plans. It’s especially hard to think about telling all my pre-med friends, those currently in medical school and those applying, because it’s like surrendering your membership to an exclusive club. Equally hard is thinking about telling my parents, who I think take pride in having a potential doctor in the family. Some part of me feels that choosing not to pursue medicine is like saying to everyone, “Sorry, I lied. I’m not going to become a doctor because I can’t handle it. It’s too much for me.” Almost anyone in my life could tell you that this notion is crazy and not one person would judge me for changing plans. Some, in fact, might breathe a sigh of relief and think finally. But it’s how I feel. 

I think part of this complex is the view society has of doctors and ministers. Doctors are admired, even revered. They are hailed as intelligent and organized individuals; leaders in the community. Ministers are valued and trusted in some circles, and in others they’re completely discredited. Some people greatly benefit from the work ministers do, and others receive no benefit, or worse, feel attacked. I’m smart and capable. I really think I could do either job and be pretty good at it. The question is a matter of happiness and fulfillment. It’s hard for me to say I’d be happier at a job that society gives almost zero value to. However, when I think about the people I consider the the wisest and smartest, at least half of them are consecrated religious or theologically trained. It’s just frustrating for me to think that in the future my input might be discounted due to my background/career. 

Fr. Steve mentioned that sometimes finding attachment means mourning an option. Consider this my mourning of medicine. We’ll see if my mind changes tomorrow.