Half the Man I Want to Be

While doing background research about The Great Gatsby in preparation for teaching it to my AP students, I came across this quote from the author, F. Scott Fitzgerald: "The history of my life is the history of the struggle between an overwhelming urge to write and a combination of circumstances bent on keeping me from it."

Here is one of the great American authors, who wrote what many consider to be the "Great American Novel," commenting that despite how good at writing he was, despite how much he wanted to produce mountains of eloquent prose, he found himself struggling to actually get it done.

John Steinbeck, another of the best authors America has had to offer, had something similar to say while struggling to write the book he called his masterpiece, East of Eden: "My brain acts like a bad child, willful and sneering. And oh! the tricks I can use to justify it so that in the end it becomes downright virtuous."

In the midst of writing the book he had been planning for a lifetime, the one he wanted to put all his time and energy into, he found himself creating excuses not to work on it. 

I found myself wondering that if these titans of literature who produced several great texts that changed the face of American literature and have affected thousands of readers struggled to merely do exactly what they passionately wanted to do, then how am I to avoid this fate?

But theirs are not merely the words of a couple of masters of their craft. No, their words are ancient, two thousand years ancient, preceded by the Apostle Paul, who wrote in his letter to the Romans about his own struggles: "For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. . . For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out." And it is here that I find the struggle of my life.

I know exactly who and what I want to be. I know what I want to do. But the struggle to actually be it and do it weighs heavily on me. This month I've written about my desire to remain steadfast in the face of trials and to choose carefully my words in all situations. In one foolish moment of anger this week, I failed at both. I want to be in shape, in control, and in the Bible. I want to be well read and well respected. I want to say no to food after 9 pm, yes to writing and reading. I want to serve and love my wife unconditionally and be patient and loving at all times to my kids. But I am not this. At least not all the time. I snap critically when I could hug, I give in weakly to fatigue and to hunger and to boredom, and I convince myself that whatever it is I need to get done, I'll get to the next day.

Not every day. No, on a lot of days, I am what I want to be. Instead of that being an encouragement, however, it's easy to be further frustrated, as it highlights that I can indeed be it and do it when I decide to.

I write this tonight not because it is my struggle, or Fitzgerald and Steinbeck's struggle, or even Paul's struggle. I write it because I believe it is the human struggle. I believe it's probably yours as well. And more than anything, I want you to know you're not alone.

So what do we do? I'm not sure. Accept mediocrity? Not hardly. Punish ourselves mercilessly? Probably not.

No, the only answer I can come up with, is to abide in the vine: "I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. . . If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. . . These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full." (John 15)
T
hat sounds much more effective than trying harder tomorrow. That strategy hasn't worked in centuries.