Ode to Frustration

In preparing to give a vocations talk for high-schoolers, I began to reflect upon my own vocation journey thus far. Emotions run high as you attempt discerning your path through life, and these emotions can be some of the best guidance God has to offer. Oftentimes, that is exactly how God speaks with you on a regular basis; that is, unless you have a proven track record of bullheadedness (like me) and require more direct speech…

Of all the emotions I have felt thus far, two outshine all the others for both their practical usefulness and their ensuing grace. Unfortunately, only one is often regarded as useful or “grace”-ful. The first seems to be the byproduct that we desire from the second, and to even desire the second does not make much sense. For the record, I do not think that anyone should desire the second emotion. But, in recognizing its purpose and place, I hope that when it does arise (and trust me it will) that you might be thankful for such a concrete nudge from God to change direction

The two emotions are peace and frustration.

Peace:

I’ll admit that not much needs to be said about this feeling. It’s how I felt the moment after a priest conveyed choosing a vocation as answering one question: “what do you want to put at the center of your day?” In the nanosecond it took me to answer “celebrating the Mass and the Church,” God flooded me with peaceful reassurance. You feel it after finally understanding why people enjoy reading Steinbeck or stopped caring because you are convinced there is no redeeming quality to his work. Probably a better example (or at least one less bitter towards Steinbeck) is how you feel when you can curl up on the couch with your sweetheart and just “be.” Not watching tv or talking or even napping, but just being with each other. Letting each other’s presence be the proof that you love each other.

The best example I can give is having that same relationship mentioned above with your sweetheart, but with God. Just being with God. Not saying the Lord’s prayer, a Hail Mary, or even offering praise to Him, but just resting with God. That comfortability to just rest in Him produces the most pure sense of peace possible on Earth. It’s also the feeling that accompanies knowing that your will is acting alongside God’s Will. In other words, you’re following the path He wants for you, and you’re aware of that.

That knowledge can bring about a sustained feeling of peace, but doubting your path or not recognizing it can bring about different emotions, including our second emotion.

Frustration:

Like I wrote above, it’s beyond me as to why anyone would desire to be frustrated. Please don’t confuse this with any sort of feeling of “brokenness”, such as anxiety, fear, or apprehension. Those emotions can help you realize that you have no real control over your future; that, if left up to you, your life would be an utter wreak.

If you feel those, then GREAT!! You’re recognizing that you have something that God wants you to offer up. Pray to know what that is, and then offer it up!

But frustration is not like those; frustration isn’t fear or apprehension. Rather, it’s the feeling that you’re actually on the right path, but lacking the first emotion we discussed: peace. Think of it this way:

If what you’re feeling comes after having some knowledge that you’re on the right path, then you’re feeling frustrated.

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on the other hand,

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If what you’re feeling comes (or coincides) with a lack of life direction or after a change you made hoping for peace, then you’re probably not feeling frustration, but fear, apprehension, or generally “lost”.

Frustration should always come after times of peace, because being frustrated requires having a goal that was either “not achieved…or prematurely interrupted.” (Definition from Google). Without thinking that your path should be taking you towards peace, then you’re not being interrupted from your goal; you were just floundering around, hoping for peace.

Anyway, now that you’re (hopefully!) thoroughly convinced that frustration must follow after feeling peace, it’s time to talk about why frustration is a good thing. That follows in part II of this post.

Four-Letter Words

Growing up as a cradle Catholic is, in my experience, less than advantageous in the Bible Belt. Not only does not questioning your faith lead to assuming that what you've always heard is true, but when you do run into some one who has a different view, you often sound like a total idiot trying to argue your case. Lucky for me, my high school friends often asked questions that many Catholics do not encounter until college. However, living with a liberal Baptist for a few years has raised questions that, honestly, I never even considered normal people think about. That said, I could never say the Welch men are normal.

Recently, my liberal Baptist brought up his view on morality, especially in regards to using vulgarity and drinking to the point of being drunk. Though we both agreed that "drunk" was a pretty arbitrary word and decided that gluttony was the real sin, he was not totally convinced with my boundaries for vulgarity. This is, I think, because of some moral relativity on my part. Its pretty common to change one's vocabulary based upon who one is interacting with, but is it right?

First of all, is it right for a guy to use different language with "the boys" and when ladies are present? Without hesitation: yes. Please note, this does not mean that a guy can't use a dirty word in front of a lady. But men should, at all times, uphold the dignity and respect of any woman that he is around, even if that means being ultra sensitive of how he uses his language.

This leads to the second question: should any language be avoided simply because of the word? Now, this question belongs to the realm of philosophy of language, of which I know absolutely nothing about. This is where I start getting morally relative. On the Backporch, I argued the position that even if society deems some words improper, it does not necessarily hold that they are immoral. Although I stand by this, it may be that some words imply actions or ideas which actually are immoral. For example, both "bugger" and the F-bomb indicate some sexual action which I deem immoral. Although I give one friend grief for saying "bugger" (mainly because no American should wish to be British-our food is so much better), I am not anywhere near as shocked as if she stubbed her toe and yelled "F@&%!" Why? The only answer is that society, and by association me, consider "F" more offensive than buggery. It seems, then, that vulgar words do not, by virtue of conveying an immorality, become equally vulgar.

I guess I'm not the only moral relativist in this country...like that was even a consideration! However, anyone morally aware should be conscious of his or her words just as he or she is conscious of actions. A weak assertion, I know, but plenty of time remains to expand on my moral relativity and how to change it.