Learning and Doing

I've worked hard this week, at work, on the book, planning for next year's EfM groups. Even though this week was a "short" week job-wise (Memorial Day holiday), the office still had to be visited, even on the holiday, and then regular hours once again. Hours free from the office have been filled with typing on the book and fighting with formatting (always the worst part of the job) , and then the normal things of life -- feeding and taking care of cats, feeding and taking care of me (including naps now and again), and, in whatever time is left, cleaning the house and doing the laundry. Holiday last Monday or no, it's been a pretty normal week.

Yesterday I finished typing the draft of the Jean's book. Now for the rounds of polishing, correcting, adding to, deleting from and rearranging. I've been doing a lot of typing this week, both on the book and at work, so my right hand is giving signs of stress and strain, so I decided I needed to take today off and do some goofing off -- that is, once I clean the cat boxes, mow the floor, finish washing the dishes and the laundry and a few other little chores like wading through the basket next to my desk that is the receptacle for papers, brochures, ads, pay stubs, and God knows what-all else.

It isn't the chores that are so onerous, it's the getting started on it that takes a lot of oomph, oomph that at present I haven't got. I just look at what needs doing and feel overwhelmed. Oh, sure, I know the drill: break it down into small, manageable pieces, get it done and then goof off, take a nap or do whatever it is you really want to do. Got it. I really do. Getting it is the easy part. It's the actual getting going that's the hard work.

This week the church marked the celebration of the Ascension, the event of Jesus' ascension to heaven. I wonder what the disciples were thinking at the time. "Dang, he's gone again!"

Once before they had suffered this loss of the leader and teacher to whom they looked for guidance in what they were to do next, what they needed to learn next, even where they needed to go next. They had been in this place before, mourning the loss of someone dear and important to them and feeling acutely the absence of the man who was the symbolic rudder to their boat, who kept them on course and out of trouble. They didn't have long to feel rudderless the first time; barely had they gotten past the initial shock of his death when he was once again among them -- and yet not in the same way he had been before. Some of it was different, but he was still among them at times, just like he had been in life. He still gave direction and stimulus to their lives and activities and so they could continue to follow and do what was asked, demanded of them.

Then came the Ascension. Jesus went away again, this time in triumph rather than the shame of the cross. Still, he went away from them, beyond their sight and leaving them to put into practice the things that they had been taught to do, say and be.

"Dang, he's gone again!"

"Now what do we do?"

I imagine for them, the knowing what to do was in place -- they'd been practicing for quite a while now. They had their memorized lessons in place and now it was time for them to do something, sort of like getting past their final exam.

Having been a student, it's easy for me to remember the "Oh, dang!" reality of final exams and the idea of going into a situation that will determine my grade in the class or program barehanded, alone, with nothing but a pen and what I carried in my brain to get me through it. But if I don't go into the testing room, the examination chamber or the assembly of examiners, I don't have to do anything but study, rehearse—and probably do some praying. Sooner or later, though, I have to face the examiners, the test papers and the blue booklets of blank pages and I have to do something about and with them.

But there's a test beyond that exam. What am I going to do with what I've learned and upon which I've just been tested? Like student teaching, I've had a period of study and work under the guidance of teachers and then been evaluated by them. Jesus taught and the disciples learned and did their practical exams and now came the big test beyond their final exam. They either had to go out into the world and put into practice what they'd been taught or they could cower behind closed doors, lost in a flurry of indecision and uncertainty. They knew what they had to do, it was just a matter of getting up the gumption to actually do it.

While mowing the floors and sorting through papers doesn't compare with going out into the world to teach, preach, comfort and heal, it is still the next thing I have to do. The disciples had to go out the door, I have to pick up a tool or a task and physically do it.

"Dang it, he's gone again." But no, he's still here, just not in the same way. The disciples had to learn that, so in essence the end of their apprenticeship under Jesus was the beginning of their post-grad learning, the guidance from an invisible hand and inaudible voice . I have to face that too, in my daily life. It's time to do the next right thing. It's time to go out the door and begin to practice what I've learned. And, just like the disciples, I'll find that I haven't learned all the lessons yet, I just have some distance-learning ahead of me.

"Dang, he's gone again -- but he's still calling the shots!" That's the message Ascension has for me this year. "Not get out there and win one for the Big Guy!"