Yesterday, I wrote of my vocational transition, the ways in which I'm trading down--local vocational relevance for an increasing irrelevance. As an attorney, I cultivated the appearance of importance. I was a partner in the largest firm in the state. I worked on the right cases (sometimes), learned the right angles (a few acute and obtuse ones, too). I owned nice suits and power ties. Then, I quit.
Now, I've adopted a new vocational persona--the pensive writer (let's call a thing a thing) whose local vocational relevance is waning. I peck words on a keyboard in the local coffee shop, and The Suits I've known for so many years waive and nod from the counter without stopping by my table. (Except Dale Brown--a gentleman and scholar if ever there were one.) I'm not the person to know around the community anymore. I'm just a guy. Plain and simple.
But is it that plain and simple? I want you to believe it's all so romantic, so take-up-my-crossy. But I can't run from the truth: I ain't no saint.
In the downward slide of local vocational relevance, I'm learning how easy it is to transfer my need for relevance and competency to the new vocation. Now, relevance isn't measured by suits, or the amount of money in my account, or the size of my nest egg. Now, it's measured in page-views, or book sales, or new subscribers, or social media shares. (That was a most embarrassing sentence to write.) It's measured in the CLANG!-CLANG!-CLANG!-look-at-my-opinions-and-say-MMMMMMMMMMM-HMM (with all those M-s).
Relevance is the dog you adopted from the animal shelter, the one who will not ever leave you be.
My confession today is simple: my need for vocational competency and relevance did not die the day I left the law office, the day I'd have you believe I left everything behind to follow the divine path. (Doesn't that sound so spiritual?) Perhaps leaving my previous career was a bullet to the leg but not to the head. And though I apologize for the metaphorical crassness, did Paul not say we had to murder our lesser selves to be set free? (Romans 6:7)
Like so many, I'm still looking for freedom in my vocation, and by freedom, I mean a way to be myself, free of expectation, the hounding need for competency, the need for relevance that's as persistent as a hangover. I'm looking for a way to become more by becoming less. I haven't found it yet, but I'm starting with the right question, I think:
[tweetherder]What is the aim of my vocation?[/tweetherder]
Keep asking the question with me. Keep digging, digging, digging. Keep noticing how much of your vocation is driven by the need for relevance, competency, and validation. Keep noticing the lesser bodies that need killing.
As I work through this short series on vocation, please feel free to invite others along. I know I'm not alone in my questions on this topic, and I'd love to hear how you and your people are processing your own vocational questions.
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