When I moved to San Francisco a little over two years ago, I had likely used the word “pivot” only a handful of times in my entire life—perhaps in middle-school physics or gym class—but since moving to San Francisco, it has become a common part of my vocabulary. It is a word I, and many others in the San Francisco/Silicon Valley culture, use to describe a variety of phenomena. Pivot could be a shift in business strategy, a product reinvention, or an organizational restructure. The necessity of the pivot is assumed in millennial culture, which is also the dominant culture of San Francisco/Silicon Valley. Change is an assumed reality. Organizational and corporate structures are designed for agility.
While “pivot” is not commonly used to describe a life reset, or breakthrough, this word that is so common here gives many clues for navigating the psycho-spiritual terrain of the millennial. A pivot occurs when a limitation gives birth to a potential creative possibility that would never have been considered otherwise. It is in discerning these dynamics that you can best help millennials cultivate rich and dynamic relationships with God. To most spiritual directors, something similar to this concept of the pivot is nothing new; however, the limitations and potential of this specific generation may be unfamiliar. Let’s take a moment to get to know these wonderful image bearers we speak of by considering the soil from which they grew.
According to most sociologists, the term “millennial” is used to describe people born anywhere from the early 1980s to the early 2000s. Most millennials were in school on April 20, 1999, the day of the Columbine massacre. Many schools all over the country went on lockdown for fear of copycat crimes. The lockdown drill is now standard in K–12 schools and has been throughout the childhood of most millennials. For most millennials such precautions were common, thus normalizing the underlying anxieties propelling the action. On September 11, 2001, many were en route to school, or had just arrived, when the World Trade Center was hit. When Osama Bin Laden was confirmed dead, millennials were reported to have rushed to the street to celebrate the death of whom many considered to be their archnemesis.Kate Zernike, “9/11 Inspires Student Patriotism and Celebration,” New York Times, May 3, 2011, https://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/04/us/04youth.html?_r=0 (accessed 3 March 2023). Most millennials were entering the workforce, or thinking about it, when the Great Recession of 2008 hit. For lack of work, many returned home. The less fortunate didn’t have a home to return to, as many well-established adults, the millennial parent generation, lost houses, cars, and their amassed savings.
In the midst of this fairly consistent disorientation, there were some constants. Millennials were, and continue to be, the most consistently and aggressively marketed-to generation in the history of the world. They are natives to a world where their desires are not only quantifiedDaniel Newman, “CRM Retargeting? The Next Wave of Big Data Utilization for Marketing,“ Forbes, June 3, 2015, https://www.forbes.com/sites/danielnewman/2015/06/03/crm-retargeting-the-next-wave-of-big-data-utilization-for-marketing/?sh=1fa4bbe85908 (accessed 3 March 2023). but shaped by the governing algorithms of the Internet. In case you didn’t know, every click you make is being quantified, analyzed, and adjusted for, with every iteration of digital product. This makes these digital natives not only a lucrative demographic but an invaluable set of technological early adopters who are shaping the very direction of innovation.
Millennials were formed in the age of speed. Having used AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) starting in childhood, most wouldn’t have the slightest clue why one might need to take a typing class; the thrill of back-and-forth communication with friends led to nimble fingers. While AIM likely still exists, the “A” has lost its status. IM, texting, Twitter, Facetime, Skype, and Google Hangouts are now old kids on the block while emerging technologies like Periscope (a real-time video sharing application) are adding a new understanding of “instant,” something those who grew up in the age of the microwave never could have imagined. Most prefer gathering information from real-time news feeds like Twitter or Reddit rather than reading an entire magazine or newspaper. They prefer text, the fastest, most friction-free, way of getting information across. They operate under the assumption that the person they want to reach does not have time for a phone call. If you want a phone call, it’s best to plan it by text. The millennial’s sensitivity to time is something the ancients could never have fathomed. We’ve all heard the cliché “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” but we now live in an age where world-changing, “disruptive” technologies can emerge seemingly overnight.
Disruption” is another keyword in the millennial cultural lexicon. Millennials have come from a world where dramatic and life-changing things can happen quite quickly, for better or for worse. This can lead to the vice of impatience but also the virtue of adaptability. Silicon Valley culture is fueled by the drive to disrupt established industries, ideally to make them more efficient, more fair, more prosperous, more green, and almost always, less centralized (sort of).
So are millennials optimistic? I think this is only partially true. Their hope is in their ability to innovate their way out of whatever may come. They have a deep belief that all that is established not only can, but must be, improved on, if it is going to survive the next cultural iteration of globalization and pluralism. In a world filled with disruption that at times comes in the form of terrorism, the felt need for something ordered and controllable becomes primary, and this generation thinks they can actually pull it off. Towers can crumble, but networks encoded in digits, built on highways of light, feel safer.
Now, you can imagine the devastation that comes at the possibility that even these structures of safety and control could prove insufficient. The deep, existential questions usually asked by those middle-aged empty nesters approaching retirement are being asked by some millennials who finished college at the height of the economic downturn of 2008. She who does not navigate well through the perils of structure and chaos hits a point of paralysis that some have called the quarter-life crisis. Here is where she must pivot.
We see the importance of the pivot in the basic formation process: orientation, disorientation, reorientation. The children of Israel pivoted when they overcame their orientation to slavery in order to embrace their new life in the promised land. This pivot process is more specifically understood for millennials when seen through the lens of desire. The millennial transforms as they move through freedom to desire, freedom from desire, and freedom for desire. Freedom to desire is something all of us should have had the ability to develop and practice in our formative years. The first place it appears is when the toddler, on hitting his terrible twos, assertively says, “no,” to another helping of lima beans, and develops in adolescence when the middle schooler insists on wearing neon-colored shoelaces one day but by the time of eighth-grade graduation wears only cowboy boots. Freedom to desire is exercising the ability to try on different potential ways of being and seeing how they fit. Freedom from desire comes as we surrender the willful need to assert and begin to settle into a developed sense of self.
Freedom for desire comes as that solid, secure self begins to act in love and gratitude as a participant in God’s love conspiracy otherwise described as God’s orchestration of life circumstances toward his ultimate and loving end. In this we are both objects and participants. Millennials are not confident that they indeed reside in this love conspiracy. They are more convinced that they must navigate the maze of the ironclad structures of “the path to success,” laden with the intensive messaging of self-fulfillment at any cost. This maze comes complete with Minotaurs, some of which can fall from the sky without warning.
Millennials did they best they could. Many of us outside the millennial generation likely bring to mind our high-school elective schedule and recall semesters of pottery, theater, speech and debate, and yearbook with fondness and a light-hearted disposition that comes from engaging any hobby. We may have gone through a “punk stage” or a “jock stage,” “hippy stage,” or “prep stage.” The millennial, on the other hand, may remember agonizing whether to switch from speech and debate to newspaper for fear that it would make them look unfocused. Children who started playing soccer at ten (well actually, it was probably five) may never have considered the possibility of playing basketball. Change of any kind by their initiation was perceived as a risk with consequences for the rest of their lives. How could a millennial expect to get into a decent college if they hadn’t been the varsity captain of their local soccer team? An achievement at this level required time and dedication, those skills developed and earned since kindergarten. And in the face of potential consequences of this magnitude, most chose (if they had a choice) to play it safe.
An elective in its definition is something we ought to have the freedom to choose based on nothing more than the value that it gives to each of us personally in our enjoyment of the activity or the value of the learning or the camaraderie of the team. But for the millennial, these became just another means to the “grand end.” And what is that grand end? Many are still trying to figure that out while being completely unaware of what they actually enjoy. It’s difficult to become aware of one’s preferences, joys, and desires when the essentials take up so much space. In contemplative life, we are aware that busyness leads to mindlessness and stunts the capacity for real joy. Real joy is replaced with the saccharine sweets of pop pleasure. In a life filled with busy “essentials,” millennials sink into the abundance of these empty offerings.
Subject to this kind of complex desire formation, freedom from desire is tricky. Many have described millennials as impulsive and overconfident, others as intensely needy of handholding, instruction, and excessive encouragement. I don’t think it is either/or. Certainly millennials, no different than any other generation, ought not be shamed for their underdeveloped parts. For the millennial, freedom from desire is a grief process. Many will have to grieve the way they didn’t have a chance to really explore their deep loves and will have to accept that this exploration must now take place within the hard boundaries of adulthood. Many will need to be taught how to do this and shown compassion for the reality of their loss. While all humans struggle with this dynamic, millennials do so with intensity. Their desires were controlled, limited, manipulated, coddled, and fanned to a far greater degree than previous generations. Their desert is a confusing one, and with the stunting of their natural capacities to accurately assess limitations or live into freedom, many live their lives feeling overly trapped or licensed—both extremes leading to a sense of isolation and meaninglessness.
It is not uncommon for me to hear of millennials with well-paying, coveted jobs leaving them after a few years in favor of a “gap year” of trying to figure out who they are. For many, this is actually a good decision. For some, the hard-knock reality of bills and student loans will be exactly what they need to temper their overindulgent inclinations. The stage of disorientation is never enjoyable. Like the Israelites, they will inevitably long for Egypt. We who minister to them must provide them the manna of grace, compassion, guidance, and hope, while helping them surrender to the limitations of adulthood.
The spiritual disciplines that undergird this kind of transformation are similarly paradoxical. Because of their need for both guidance and freedom, millennials need a type of spiritual direction that will give them the space to process three things: Perceived limitations versus actual limitations, perceived freedoms versus actual freedoms, and finally, practical ways to playfully engage within that space. This is the stuff pivots are made of.
Imagine Amanda, the twenty-six-year-old Google employee. She graduated from UCLA three years ago with $75,000 in debt. In six months after graduating, her loan payments started—clearly a limitation. Her internship stipend was meager $800 a month, which only narrowly covered her monthly loan payment, so she moved back in with her parents. With a passion for microfinance and third-world development, her internship turned into a full-time job, but the modest nonprofit left her burnt out and barely scraping by. She started looking for alternative employment and, within a year and a half, landed an amazing job at Google. Opportunities seem to be opening up for her. However, after a few years of company perks and a good income, Amanda wonders what happened to her college passion for business in the developing world. She wonders whether she failed. Wasn’t she supposed to change the world? She wonders whether she made the wrong decision somewhere way back when. What is she to do now? The questions she asks are at once vague, grandiose, and disparate. What’s wrong with me? Should I move to Africa? Who are my real friends? Maybe I should start my own nonprofit? Maybe I just need to move? She has the illusion that an external shift can manage the internal dystopia of her soul.
For Amanda, at this current moment, the spiritual discipline is to look at her life and consider what are the actual limitations that keep her exactly where she is. From what we know of her, we know that she has debt to pay. She may have strong connections to friends and loved ones that keep her rooted to a particular place. We know there was something about generative finance that is appealing to her. Becoming aware of these things could require journaling, meeting with pastors, spiritual directors, career coaches, financial advisers, or if none of these are available, a group of friends with some common sense and empathic hearts. She is going to need to reach out, make some requests, and show some vulnerability by sharing the truth of her life.
Those supporting Amanda would also be wise to know that to everything there is a season. This era could be the season of work perks and financial security for Amanda. How could we help Amanda receive that fully as a gift from God? Perhaps give her space to thank him? She will need to do this, lest the discontent drown her. She needs opportunities to express both discontent and gratitude to God and to others, to see a full view of her life situation. Her current season of stability could change someday. The salary and freebies would begin to pale against a vision of some other, very different invitation. If or when that happens, she would need the courage to cast aside everything that hinders (Hebrews 12:1), again, with freedom to express the full range of emotions that come with major pivots—fear, excitement, sadness, and hope.
When I have met with millennials in this kind of situation, I’ve found myself often helping them to also identify very basic and seemingly inconsequential desires. They may know that they have “a passion for micro-finance” but don’t know how to spend an unstructured day with nothing to do. They don’t know how to do this because they don’t know what they want (especially when they have no money to buy anything). Most millennials will want some marching orders, but the truly discerning shepherd will know how to offer just enough structure to help them bring their experience into the presence of God. This requires time to actually sink into the heart. This can start by guided pauses for deep breaths, then further clarified by directing them to be aware of subtleties of mind, emotions, and especially body.
Our staff at Reality San Francisco, the church in which I work, is made up of mostly millennials. A part of our staff rhythm of life is to do something joyful and completely inconsequential every day. When one of our team members asked for clarification of what that could look like, the writer of that particular discipline replied that he had completed this discipline when he “pet a horse.” This has become one of my favorite answers to any spiritual question, ever. It’s so simple, so whimsical, yet profound. What if joy can be found in something so simple even while the rest of the world is so complex? Giving time and space to these discoveries won’t come naturally at first. This may well lead them to a type of excruciating obedience. They will have to lean into and fill the vast open space that is currently their desert that, when irrigated, plowed, and planted, will become their promised land.
Sowing with faith that God will indeed make a harvest is the beginning of freedom for desire. Every life has its limitations. Limitations confront our willful desire to be like God. For this reason, we, not just millennials, tend to respond to limitations with sophisticated resistance. No one really wants to pivot. We like our ways, tried and true, even when we hate the consequences that abound. The invitation from God is actually an invitation to abide. Abiding sometimes requires active engagement, and sometimes, active submission. Millennials prefer the first, but need both to break through to experiencing the real life of love they so desire.
Love requires desire. You have to actually want and will the good of another. You also have to have a “you” that wills. Without heart-connected desire, there is only robotic, mechanistic, passionless, stoic action. Amanda’s life will resettle when she allows God to love her through her limits, to submit to the hug of God’s sovereignty and her own commitments. It is here that she must choose to love God, self, and others wholeheartedly. And through this narrow space comes new life, creativity, hope, and freedom.
I’ve often said, since moving to San Francisco, that San Franciscans are just like everybody else, but more. If you’ve met someone from San Francisco or Silicon Valley, you probably know what I mean. It’s rare to meet a person who isn’t intensely passionate about something. People who live on the same block are experiencing the height of achievement and a personal rock bottom. They exist all in the same space. The CEO dwells a breath away from the homeless guy on the sidewalk. A startup making news headlines today is moving into the space formerly occupied by the most recent flop of yesterday. Close quarters means few private yards, but community gardens abound. There are breathtaking views from nearly every hilltop, but your legs might fall off trying to get there.
This is much like millennial souls. They are a collision of inner caricatures longing to be real and united in a communal whole. This is not much different from the rest of us. We all have these parts of ourselves. Previous generations had them too, but not often showing up in such rare form. Their pivots happened with a bit more subtlety. Millennials don’t do anything with subtlety. Everything is potentially life-changing. Journeying with a millennial may be challenging, at times, but when we embrace the color with which they experience life, and offer disciplines that maximize the beauty of their intensity and bring order to their impulsivities, their experience may be a needed inspiration for us. Their quarter-life breakthrough may well invite us into our own pivot, inviting us into a life of greater vibrancy and true joy.
Julie Barrios is a spiritual director and the director of spiritual formation at Reality San Francisco, a city of millennials if there ever was one. Her oversight of the lay pastoral care ministry has given her a passion for integrating the best of clinical methods into the church. As expected from an Ignatian-leaning director, Julie loves multidisciplinary aspects of pastoral practice, most recently working with tech developers on creating formative experiences using technology while understanding its realistic limits and holding as many meetings as possible at the botanical gardens. You can follow Julie on Twitter at @juliebarrios.