The "Passion" Question

Recently I’ve heard the question, “What gets you out of bed in the morning?” The answer is supposed to be your (my) passion.

I’m having an awful time trying to answer that question. There are smart answers:

·      My bladder

·      The alarm

·      Hunger and having a roof over my head

I don’t know what my passion is that gets me out of bed. And it worries me.

I like my job, a lot, well, most of it. But that’s not a passion. I value that I am able to help student and my colleagues. I know my husband, son, and other close family would be deeply affected by losing me, if I were not around. I love Jesus and want His kingdom to spread, and I love His people.

But passion?

I don’t think there’s anything I really get passionate about. I’m too tired.

My pastor is a wonderful preacher in many ways, but mostly because he is honest. He doesn’t give us five walking points as a challenge we can’t keep for the week. He points to Jesus and the gospel. He doesn’t tell us how some other Christian is our example. Today he quoted Count Von Zinzendorf, “Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten.” As odd as it sounds, that was really comforting to me.

Why? Because as an academic and writer, the driving force is to produce knowledge, texts, and/or a legacy/reputation that lives on, and we have no control over that. Yet we keep doing it—such futility. It’s ok if it’s just something you do for your job, but when it becomes a deep-felt need, that’s a different matter.  And for me it had/has become so.

I’m not writing now, out of fatigue and lack of focus, although the desire is still there. I know what a novel takes out of me. I also know how little it means to everyone else any more that I just published my seventh. My eighth promises to be a good story, but it will also take hundreds of hours to complete. Do I have a passion for that?

Our life group lesson was on Ecclesiastes, a book that requires more than 30 minutes to understand. This is the long and short of it: “We are human, whether fabulously rich or dirt poor. We all will die and be forgotten, except for a choice few.  Solomon is famous but only because he happened to be born a prince and prayed for wisdom; otherwise no one would know of him now, only a few archaeologists and historians. Live with integrity, enjoy what you can in moderation, and fear God and obey His revelation.”

My feeble attempts at literary success will not keep me remembered—unless something really weird happens and/or I get a lot better at it (or get a better publicist).