Contemplating Contentment

What does it take to be content? At peace, without question or insecurity or longing. How can I be content?

Since I arrived at Mount Angel, my prayers sound something like this:

• Lord, I'm here. What do you want me to do?
• Lord, I don't know where you want me to go, but I'll follow you. Just lead me.
• Lord, I need direction.
• Lord, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be a priest, but I want to find out. Help me seek your will.
• Lord, give me some answers.

Does that sound like contentment? For months I have talked about seminary with people -- with family, with co-workers, with teens and acquaintances, with Vocations Directors, with Catholics, Christians, and people of all religious and non-religious followings. Almost unfailingly, I mention that an important aspect of my time at seminary is continued discernment. I felt repetitive in saying, "I'm not sure where this will lead me, but it's one of those things if I never do, I will always wonder. And this way I won't have to wonder. God will help me know if I'm supposed to be a priest."

While this statement expresses some long-held feelings, it also hides within my ongoing need to claim control of a small piece of my identity. A perceptive person might have noticed the way I explained discernment wasn't to give God control but to have God tell me how to use the control I possessed of my own life. The way I said it, God is almost a bystander giving me directions while I'm on my way to a destination. Sure, Lord, thanks for the tip, but I think I'm on my way already. My prayers lately are well meaning but very narrow and disrespectful to the process of letting go.

It's not realistic to think I am going to discern my vocation in two-and-a-half weeks. This work of the soul demands time. I can't imagine myself getting engaged after dating a woman for that amount of time. Why would I expect to figure out if the Church should be my bride?

Slow down. Be still. Enter the classroom of silence. Contemplate. Pray. Rest.

I have months and years to make decisions. Now is not the time. Instead, I need to breathe deeply the psalms and canticles of the Liturgy of the Hours, singing praise with my fellow brothers that we would be called to this special place. Instead, I need to be receiving the Eucharist in grateful communion with the beautiful family I have here, in Boise, and in Bothell. Instead, I need to be playing soccer and basketball with other men seeking balance and wholeness. Instead, I need to embrace the fraternal nature of this work by building friendships based on shared faith in something larger than our small hilltop world. Instead, I need to be content with where I am, who I am, and what I will be.

What does it take to be content? I'm still not sure, but I think it starts with ceasing control. Letting go. Letting it be. Though I miss many things from my previous life, one thing I have in abundance here is time -- seven years to continue the quest for contentment. That should be enough to settle my nerves and find some resolution.

My prayer tonight is simple but (like many things) not easy: Help me praise you, Lord. Allow me to sit and listen. Teach me to be docile. Let me practice carefree timelessness with you. I am yours.