In the book The Big Leap, there is a concept called the Level of Genius. It’s actually one of four levels and the first two don’t matter as much for our purposes here. The third is Excellence and the fourth is Genius. And they can mess me up sometimes.
The level of Excellence is all the stuff you’re good at. You might be really good at it. I was an excellent administrative clerk back in the day. The lawyers loved me because I got things done for them. I got a steady paycheck and had health insurance that was really awesome. When I said I was going into full time ministry, my mom asked why I couldn’t stay where I was and do ministry on the weekends. That’s the problem with the gap between Excellence and Genius. Often, no one wants us to make that leap.
My Genius, I thought, was in speaking and inspiring folks. It might be in teaching and counseling too. I made the leap and did just fine. Unlike most, I didn’t have to take a pay cut and I have health insurance (not as great, but still health insurance). I love my work. It’s grown me. I’ve had to face fears, make big public mistakes and grow from them and let Spirit carry me when I had no idea what I was doing or even why I was doing it.
I have recently discovered another issue I have with the Level of Genius. Over time, it becomes more specific. At least, that’s my theory. I’ve discovered that there are aspects of ministry I’m good at, but aren’t as challenging as they used to be. I find other areas of ministry that are about an inch beyond my comfort zone and I’ve had to face the idea that perhaps my Level of Genius is out there on my growing edge. I know rationally that I’ve survived growth before. I know in my heart that I’ll always be carried by Spirit to a space beyond where I could go on my own steam. I’m not quite ready to make another Big Leap, but it’s coming up. I can see the cliff from here.
So if you see me muttering to myself, adjusting my cape and looking a little green around the gills, you know what’s up. Catch you on the other side!
There’s a painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel that shows God and Adam reaching out to almost touch each other. I’ve seen it a billion times, just like everyone else, but I’ve never really seen it before. The painting was brought to my attention and I used it in a talk this week – and then heard even greater perception from my friends and teachers in the congregation.
If you look at this painting, you’ll notice a few things about God. First of all, I can’t help but notice he looks a lot like Zeus. But that’s just me, right? Secondly, because I vegged out and watched HBO’s Westworld, I have learned that there’s meaning in the cloak God wears. That red cloak is shaped like a human brain. The God of my understanding is a being that expresses itself through me to the degree that I allow the Good/God to be expressed. I can limit it but can’t actually make it go away. Another thing to look at is that there’s a whole bunch of people inside that cloak with God.
So if the God of my understanding exists in my mind, who are the rest of those folks? Someone pointed out that they could be thought of as the “committee” that often exists in the back of our minds. Those voices of disapproval and doubt that pipe up just as we are about to step into our greatness are those folks sitting around God in the painting. I was relieved to hear my self say, “I fired my committee. That’s my cheering section.” I didn’t think about it, just said it. I’m so glad that the things I instinctively think and say these days are positive. Believe me, when the committee was running things, it wouldn’t have been a good thing.
Who are the folks who live in the mind of God, your mind, with you? Are they cheering or naysaying?
Today we broke down the Christmas tree and put everything back for another year. It took an hour and a half, much less time that it took to decorate. There’s no creativity in taking decorations down, unless you count fitting the tree back in the box. It’s a little sad and a bit of relief at the same time. It’s a relief because the holidays are such a busy time of year and I tend to be intensely conscious of the Christ in that time. And that’s why it’s sad, too.
As I put away all the decorations, the temptation is to go back to business as usual. All those lovely ideas about peace on earth and the light overcoming the darkness get tucked between the pages of my schedule book. The same meetings that crowded my schedule in 2017 crowd it in 2018. For some reason, this is season for transitions, so there are a lot of folks passing, some folks making major changes in jobs or homes, and of course, lots of people wanting help raising their consciousness. This is when gyms are the busiest, whether they are physical or spiritual gyms.
This is when I remember one of my favorite Christmas poems, by Howard Thurman.