When Service Ends: An Invitation to Rest in God

Editor’s Note:  If you have been waiting for more writing from Heather McColl Morgan, we have good news.  She’s back on Excellent or Praiseworthy!

Excellent or Praiseworthy is posted on Monday and Thursday nights.

“Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in You.  I said to the Lord, ‘You are my Lord; I have no good besides You.” — Psalm 16:1,2

You might be a military veteran (still) transitioning to civilian life if:

1. It irks you when others speak from their ignorance of people, politics and places you have served in the military, or demonstrate no curiosity for stories about your time in uniform;
2. People in line at the grocery store, post office, or in traffic easily get on your nerves when they seem to lose “the big picture” of what’s most important in a day;
3. It seems like everyone around you moves waaay too slowly;
4. You measure the success of your day by how much you got done, who noticed, and feedback they gave;
5. People tell you that you are too driven, too decisive, go too hard and fast, or put too much into your job, and you just can’t see why they aren’t doing the same.

It’s been nearly six years since I left active duty, and all of these observations are still true of me. If you spent time in uniform, chances are they are true of you, as well. It’s easy to dismiss people around you as lazy or ignorant, yet,, sometimes they have a point. My colleagues, friends and mentors can affirm that, like the wandering people of Israel, I have a kind of “Pharaoh in my bones” which can still drive me to chronically over-function.  More importantly, I see God using these people and my civilian rhythms of life to restore my soul after nearly seven years of active duty.

As Christians, we believe our minds, souls, and bodies were created for God-ordained rhythms of work, rest, and worship. Military duty necessarily pulls us away from these rhythms. Even as I am thankful, proud, and grounded because of my military experience, the intensity of that experience has a shadow side which takes a toll on many veterans.

When I transitioned out of active Army service through Troops to Teachers, I found opportunities to move into alignment with my newfound value of a Sabbath of rest and worship. But, in some ways, I quickly returned to old habits. I began to transfer the same sense of urgent mission I had when supporting commanders and leading soldiers to the business of educating adolescent learners. Fellow teachers marveled at my enthusiasm, but also expressed concern I might burn out if I sustained that pace. I did eventually learn three important steps to a healthy change: to leave my work at work, to incorporate silence and stillness into my morning prayers before the school day, and to encourage my spiritual journey with helpful resources.  For me, the resources included Emotionally Healthy Spirituality Day by Day by Peter Scazzero, the Seedbed Psalter, and The Daily Examen.

These steps were timely, because the nature of many public schools is to experience major changes every few years, as the pendulum swings between instructional fads. My fourth and final year of full-time teaching I was greatly tempted to bow down to the latest educational ideas; I am learning to recognize idolatry wherever people begin to serve the very tools made to serve humanity It was truth in Psalm 16 that alerted me to the early signs of burnout in myself:

“Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in You.
I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord;
I have no good besides You.”
As for the saints who are in the earth,
They are the majestic ones in whom is all my delight.
The sorrows of those who have bartered for another god will be multiplied;
I shall not pour out their drink offerings of blood,
Nor will I take their names upon my lips.
The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup;
You support my lot.
The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me.”

Only in personal study did I begin to acknowledge my limits as a gift and not a frustration.  But the siren song of intense service pulled me in, often causing me to lose sight of the Giver of all inspirations and good impulses. I also did a kind of violence, in these impatient moments, to the image of God in others around me, wishing to change them and make them more like my ideal.

I began to take the idea seriously that it might be time for a sabbatical, even if it wasn’t in the strict, biblical sense of every seven years. I knew I owed it to my dear students, colleagues, coaches and mentors, but ultimately to my family and myself, to face my workaholism that still crept into everything.

Last year, staying home full time, and filling odd roles like tutoring and farm help to keep afloat, I began to tentatively engage with the following prayer:

THE WELCOMING PRAYER
BY FATHER THOMAS KEATING

“Welcome, welcome, welcome.
I welcome everything that comes to me today
because I know it’s for my healing.I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons,
situations, and conditions.
I let go of my desire for power and control.
I let go of my desire for affection, esteem,
approval and pleasure.
I let go of my desire for survival and security.
I let go of my desire to change any situation,
condition, person or myself.
I open to the love and presence of God and
God’s action within. Amen.”

If I’m honest, my military training subconsciously drilled into me that respect, security, and control are within my grasp, and were to be preserved at all costs. Every mission required shaping operations to set conditions for a successful outcome.  And taking responsibility for the outcome, whether good or bad, is the mark of mature leadership. There is no room for victim ideology in this model, rather, one might say, the warrior “takes up his cross” daily. Many of us carry this mentality into civilian life, trading one uniform, brotherhood, and service culture for another, and people tell us how noble and capable we are for doing so. But if we allow it to creep into our practical theology, it can become an idol. I begin to believe the same three lies that tested Jesus in the desert: I am what I do, I am what I have, I am what others say about me. I notice, in myself, that I do not any longer abide in the truth that I am who Christ says I am: Beloved, Chosen, Radiant.

I found praying and singing through the Psalms a helpful spiritual discipline, and I discovered that there is no psalm where we are alone in our experiences.  Many others have gone before us, and foremost among them is Christ the Suffering Servant. Walking with Him as we serve and work, we do not suffer alone, or in vain.  Part of David’s survival strategy as a man after God’s own heart was to lay his heart bare before the Lord, especially the envy, bitterness, vengefulness, anguish, and shame he felt as a result of the pressures of his position.

Last summer ended the first sabbatical of my adult working life, and I will turn the page on nearly 11 years of public service in uniform and the classroom. I’ve begun teaching online,  piecing together a portion of the income lost from my taking a year to stay home with our kids. It has been important to allow God to restore the balance within our souls, and our home. Since I have enjoyed the chance of a lifetime to learn masculine ways of being human in the Army, it has been good to integrate that with the feminine part of me that nurtures: you don’t use all the same tactics with an incompetent toddler that you might use with an incompetent adult, for example! Like other veterans, I’m learning that even though my time and energy are finite, my true worth is infinite:

I can finally agree with the writer of Psalm 103 in its entirety (which was a theme passage for me while deployed in Afghanistan years ago):

“Psalm 103 (NASB)
Praise for the Lord’s Mercies.
A Psalm of David.

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And all that is within me, bless His holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And forget none of His benefits;
Who pardons all your iniquities,
Who heals all your diseases;
Who redeems your life from the pit,
Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion;
Who satisfies your years with good things,
So that you’re youth is renewed like the eagle.

The Lord performs righteous deeds
And judgments for all who are oppressed.
He made known His ways to Moses,
His acts to the sons of Israel.
The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.
He will not always strive with us,
Nor will He keep His anger forever.
He has not dealt with us according to our sins,
Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
So great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him.
As far as the east is from the west,
So far has He removed our transgressions from us.
Just as a father has compassion on his children,
So the Lord has compassion on those who [d]fear Him.
For He Himself knows our frame;
He is mindful that we are but dust.

As for man, his days are like grass;
As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
When the wind has passed over it, it is no more,
And its place acknowledges it no longer.
But the lovingkindness of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him,
And His righteousness to children’s children,
To those who keep His covenant
And remember His precepts to do them.

The Lord has established His throne in the heavens,
And His sovereignty rules over all.
Bless the Lord, you His angels,
Mighty in strength, who perform His word,
Obeying the voice of His word!
Bless the Lord, all you His hosts,
You who serve Him, doing His will.
Bless the Lord, all you works of His,
In all places of His dominion;
Bless the Lord, O my soul!”