One of the people I most admire in the world is having a hard time writing a cover letter. A reason he holds such a high place in my estimation is exactly this -he is genuinely humble. This often turns on him however, because it can manifest as his not knowing his worth, not being comfortable with it, and not believing it even when presented of evidence of its truth.
A cover letter for a specific job or goal has to be very clear about why you are the right person, with overt statements of skill and experience, aptitude and alignment. These letters might not ever be read, but they are required to exist. Much like a formal thesis, the liner notes on an album sleeve, or the bio attached to the end of an essay, cover letters are among the many ways we must describe who we are and what we have done or made to others. They are also among the many that might not ever be read even by the users.
And sometimes this feels impossible to do, to write such a thing. Huge and annoyingly short in equal measure. Encompassing and incomplete by necessity.
While my friend’s humility is authentic, and palpable in his presence, I am honestly blown away by all he has done, and can do. He can pick up virtually any stringed instrument and noodle away on it. He can sing -solo or with a group or as a song leader. He is a truly gifted preacher, and an excellent teacher. He is so damn smart, and perceives patterns and connections that others dismiss, but that he catalogues, examines, and critiques. He is a caring and attentive father and spouse. He is a good friend to many people, including me. His writings have been published, his blogs followed, his Tweets tweeted and his stories shared around the world.
But he cannot write a cover letter. And I get it.
My friend has also been very open about the obstacles along his journey. He talks about his therapy sessions, and his mental health struggles, about his self-doubt and his second-guessing. Knowing that he wrestles with many of the same things we all do makes it more accessible to be broken, and thus healing is possible in places where it had not been before that acceptance is present -I’ve been thinking a lot about this paradox.
I know that open vulnerability and transparency may generate trust, because deep down we all know that we are broken in some way. That kind of connection can be generative, although it isn’t always. When it is generative, a shared brokenness or cracking, a common struggle become about mutual liberation and healing as much as anything personal. Both are changed, and indeed entire communities can be transformed as well by this kind of mutual work.
But one can just look at the swift and severe reaction to the ideas of teaching a non-whitewashed, non-Manifest Destiny based American History to see that many communities are not ready for this kind of generative change, mutual accountability, or restorative justice.
And my friend has paid many and dear prices for his openness about not being ‘perfect’ in the eyes of institutional gatekeepers.
As much as we like to talk about embracing the whole person, and not putting politicians or preachers or celebrities on pedestals, we absolutely do this regardless. We require an impossible purity from our leaders, our pastors and preachers, our elected officials. We demand a clarity at all times that no one can achieve, and it often feels as if we both require this odd constrained behavior while voraciously awaiting its breach.
Thus any of us who want to be real and evolving humans, and yet feel called to lead or guide in some way, have to figure out how to negotiate this liminal space of strength and weakness, skill and humility.
I rarely have to write a cover letter, as I tend to create or fall into the paid work that I do. But I do pen an awful lot of ‘ask letters’ that require I succinctly explain the purpose of the resources needed and request that the recipient support the work in some specific way. The most recent iteration of programs and platforms, projects and collaborations, is founded upon leveraging me as a brand itself, Rev Jess Abell. It’s based on the idea that I can build a platform outside of traditional institutional structures from which much of my ministry and work can flow.
It’s been harrowing, but that feeling is lessening.
Rev Jess Abell is the first time I’ve overtly stepped into what much of my longterm support community assures me has been mine for some time, a public role as a person of faith. And initially, the shift was very difficult to navigate. I felt unmoored and remade.
But now it all feels much more like my first pair of trifocals, and simply required a new way of seeing. I remember the stumbles when I walked around Oakland with that new pair of glasses on. I nearly ran into traffic and did hit a sidewalk trashcan or two. I overstepped for stairs that were really not so big, and almost cracked my head on a glass door.
But I figured it out. I shifted my view.
We can see our struggles of identity and definition as a war between self-worth and arrogance, or between an overrun ego and a healthy locus of control. We can even be fueled by the adversity and energized by the fight. But I find this exhausting.
What works for me is to continually seek my deeper ground, my connection with God and with others, that which feeds my entanglement with the Divine. I know who I am, and what God has put before me. I can navigate ALL that space between the binaries, and rather than see the span there as a battlefield, it can be a garden, wild and full of unexpected fruit.
I will ask my friend to let me take a stab at writing his cover letters. Those who have served as mirrors for me have been crucial in this shift, in this acceptance of self and purpose, identity and worth.