The story for a new season
One of my spiritual directees, a retired executive, described his plans for the next phase of life. As he spoke, a question rose in me almost unbidden: Whose story is this?
The plans were reasonable, even generous. Yet as I listened, I recognized a familiar temptation – the desire to be noticed, admired, consulted, and needed. I recognized it because that voice lives in me.
Bishop Robert Barron often contrasts the theo narrative with the ego narrative. I find the contrast useful, sometimes painful, and often simplify the two with that question: Whose story is this – God’s or the ego’s?
Two years ago, God began to rewrite my story. I left the Catholic Conference Center after eight years of doing work I loved. To go all-in with that ministry, I had already let go of other “loves” – networking events, tennis, church activities, and the steady rhythm of civic involvement. So when I sensed that God was asking me to leave the retreat center, my first reaction was not peace but protest. Lord, I’ve already surrendered so much. Now this too?
For months afterward, I wrestled with competing stories. The ego’s story urged me to stay visible, productive, indispensable. It even disguised itself as ministry. Beneath the surface, however, it was a hamster wheel that left little room for prayerful listening.
God’s story was quieter. It invited me toward solitude, simplicity, and what I can only call littleness. The turning point came slowly, not in a dramatic moment, but in a growing awareness that the quieter voice was the one drawing me toward freedom rather than pressure.
During that season, a line from Isaiah became a companion: “I will lead the blind on their journey; by paths unknown I will guide them.” (42:16) I felt blind. The path ahead was anything but clear. But I also heard the Lord’s promise: “I will make crooked ways straight.”
Looking back now, I can see that God was not taking me away from service. God was freeing me from the illusion that my worth depended on how useful, busy, or appreciated I appeared to be.
I suspect many of us face the same temptation. Retirement, a career change, an empty nest, caring for aging parents, or even a new opportunity can all be read through two different lenses: What do I do now? or Who is God inviting me to be?
If you’re standing at a crossroads, perhaps the deeper question isn’t what comes next, but who God is forming you to become. That’s often where we begin to find God in a new season.
