Still Looking

The summer of 2011 was unbearable hot in San Antonio, Texas. Even though I tried desperately to venture into the outside world only before dawn or after dusk, moments arose when I boldly confronted the overwhelming heat. In those brisk walks from my car to the hospital where I was working the “real feel” temperature often crept over 110°. Scorching temperatures provided an adequate backdrop for the noble quest afoot. For eleven weeks I worked as a hospital chaplain.

Clinical Pastoral Education or C.P.E. remains a dreaded requirement of all Episcopal seminarians in which they serve in some chaplaincy setting. At first glance one might think C.P.E. could hardly count as a daunting task; however, walking boldly into a stranger’s room to offer prayers, counsel, or just a listening ear took every ounce of courage that I could muster. Even more intimidating than the encounters with people suffering from chronic pain, cancer diagnoses, recovery from surgery, or a host of other ailments were the moments when I had to sit in front of a group of peers and my supervisor to talk about all the ways that I had botched the visit. A Baptist minister named Steve served as that supervisor, and—as hard as it is for me to say—by the end of the summer he helped me to realize that I had been going about the program entirely wrong.

Steve used a method that reminds me of a karate master who so adeptly employs defensive moves that eventually his opponent tires out, lets his guard down, and provides an opening for the crucial blow to be landed. After almost every statement from one of the C.P.E. interns Steve would say, “I’m curious about that.” Then I was forced to confront the validity of my statement. Was I just saying what I was saying or did I mean it? Was it some greater Truth from God or was it some automatic response that served as a defense mechanism? Was it church speak or the reality of God? In our final one-on-one evaluation Steve provided some of the hardest and most fruitful words I have ever heard.

As we talked about my time as a C.P.E. student, Steve expressed some praise before pointing out an obvious statement that still serves as a North Star on my life journey. He said, “Seth, you are like a great adventurer who has been on this monumental quest. This entire summer you have been seeking validation, praise, and approval from others—like it was the Holy Grail. What you have found throughout this summer is that God already buried the treasure right where you are. You have everything you search for already here within you.” I remember crying when I heard Steve say these things because no one had ever been so honest with me. While I am not positive, I am confident that the person who approached Jesus in today’s Gospel lesson may have felt very similarly.

This story of the young man coming to discover how to be good sounds so familiar to us. I often overlook details when I engage a story that I have heard so many times, but as I read these words this morning I found myself caught on a detail. The young man had been doing what I had been doing when I was trying to be a good hospital chaplain. He was doing his very best to earn his way into eternal life by following every letter of the law. Those of us who have made our spiritual life a sort of to-do list we must check off may know this feeling all too well—that even when we finish everything we still find ourselves lacking. Primarily this is because we are seeking the wrong thing and in the wrong place.

Whether it is this young man, me, or even you, we all at some time or another have made life in Christ a chore and not a relationship. The crucial moment when I had to confront the truth that Steve told me and I believe the crucial moment for this young man was discovering that it was not about getting something done or following a certain set of guidelines, but rather letting go of all else, so that we may wholeheartedly follow Jesus. When we release all possessions, all expectations, all control, and everything else, then we discover a treasure far greater than anything material on this earth.

The treasure that we seek is buried not on some far off island, nor beneath an “X”, nor can it be purchased from a website or catalog. Relationship with Jesus—fullness of life—the greatest treasure of all human history lies hidden right here within ourselves. Questing to find it does not require us to follow a litany of rules, but rather a relinquishing of all that may keep us from truly seeking. We all are still looking for a deepening of that relationship with Jesus, but as we do may we look for that treasure within ourselves.