Time was short and the assignment was challenging. Not challenging like a Super Bowl or a mob riot or an assault on Everest, but challenging in the bad way. It was dull. After all, what do you do with a convention of stamp collectors? Staged under the fluorescent light and generica of the local convention center, a couple dozen middle-aged men hunched over tables staring at sheets of tiny stamps. Maybe I could wait for a "decisive moment." It might be a while.

Someone was on to me. After all, at the time I was a good 10 years younger than almost anyone in the room, armed with cameras and lenses instead of stamps and a magnifying glass. Soon a man attached himself to me and decided it was his mission to explain in detail — trust me here, every detail — the fascination of collecting stamps.

Turns out that the phrase "mind-numbing boredom" is actually a misnomer. The mind becoming numb would have been a good thing. Instead it became more aware. Aware that my feet hurt. Aware of the slight aroma of tobacco from the man as he drew closer to explain his details. Aware of my own heart beating. Aware that I could make everything better if I just had the courage to hurl myself through the plate-glass window on the other side of the room. Distinctly aware of each second of time that seemed to pause, taunting, before moving to the next. Aware that anyone who denies the reality of eternal life has obviously never talked to this man.

After an eternity — my watch lied and told me it had been about 15 minutes — the man finally paused from his talking about stamps.

"This photography, I bet that’s kind of fun," he said.

"Absolutely," I said. "It’s great!"

"Do you get to shoot assignments like this very often?"

"Sure, occasionally . . ."

"Yeah," he interrupted, as if to announce a discovery. "But I bet you have to shoot some really dull stuff too."

I don’t recall my reply, but since it didn’t involve laughing in the man’s face, it was more successful than the pictures I got from the assignment, which were kind of boring.

Every photographer must face the problem of boredom on the job: not just a single assignment, but times when almost everything you shoot seems like something you’ve shot many times before. As a former colleague, Tom Kasser, once observed, the ideal career for a photojournalist might be to be an active shooter for 25 years. But instead, too often we get one year 25 times over.

"Believe it or not," says Ted Jackson of the New Orleans Times Picayune, "even Mardi Gras after 16 years can get boring. Year after year, it’s the same old carnival, and covering it can become as routine as a city council meeting."

If Marti Gras can get boring, what chance does stamp collecting have?

of remembering Who we’re really working for.

Since this is such a universal issue, I’ve sought the advice of a number of CIP photographers. Here are some of their thoughts:

 

Patrick Murphy Racey" Freelance

Because I’m a freelancer, each job I do is really important. If I screw up, I may lose a client. So I have to keep on my toes.

I owe my God good work because I need to be a good steward of the gifts He’s bestowed on me.

Staying fresh is simply survival for a freelancer, and it happens naturally if we follow Him.

 

Jim Mendenhall
Pittsburgh Press

One thing I tried to do was go for broke right off the bat. If I tried just to cover myself, then I might get a passable picture. But if I pushed the limits, then I would hopefully sense when I had gone too far and back off a notch and still get something better than just covering my bases.

 

Davis Barber
Freelance

I generally find relief and amusement by realizing how fortunate I am to not be doing what the subject is doing.

 

Anacleto Rapping
Los Angeles Times

I have been in newspapers for 22 years, and one of the ways I keep it fresh is to teach others about what I do. It helps me to remember why I do what I do.

On the spiritual and emotional side, the key is to stay close to God and remember that I am doing this for Him. Mediocrity or a halfhearted work ethic is not the witness I want associated with me and with my Lord. My life may be the only Bible a person will ever read, so I need to walk the talk first.

 

Bob Bangham
International Mission Board

I try to think about the people I am photographing. It may be no big deal for me, but it’s often one of the biggest moments of their lives. When I think about it from that perspective, I want to work hard and give them the best job I am capable of doing.

 

Gaylon Wampler
Freelance

I just got back from a shoot in Korea to photograph the largest church in the world on Easter. During my week in Korea, there were a couple of days built in to photograph general Korean street scenes. I walked through the streets of Seoul and saw nothing new. I stopped, set my equipment down and just prayed and praised God for my opportunity to work for Him. I remembered something I heard John White once say: "Lord, what do you want me to see today?"

I felt a new sense of excitement, and I was totally renewed with the Holy Spirit. Everywhere I turned there were new things to shoot and explore with my camera.

The daily grind is no grind at all in Jesus’ name!

 

Ted Jackson
New Orleans Times Picayune

I find that I struggle with wanting every assignment to become a"Mission From God", and feeling somewhat misplaced and wasted when the dull ones come along. But I have to remember that while photojournalism is a powerful medium of Christian communication, Jesus Christ spent 30 years of his life as a carpenter. I can and should be about my Father’s business wherever I am and whatever I’m doing.

I find that I struggle with wanting every assignment to become a "Mission From God," and feeling somewhat misplaced and wasted when the dull ones come along. But I have to remember that while photojournalism is a powerful medium of Christian communication, Jesus Christ spent 30 years of His life as a carpenter. I can and should be about my Father’s business wherever I am and whatever I’m doing.

 

To these, let me add another: never stop being an amateur photographer.

My oldest child recently graduated from high school. As a graduation gift, I spent weeks compiling a collection of still photographs and video clips from Carissa’s life — from the moment of birth to her graduation ceremony the night before — all condensed down to a CD-ROM: A Life So Far. In compiling these images, I realized that during my 10 years as a newspaper photo editor, I had almost never shot pictures at home. But since then, much of the pure joy of photography has returned to me: chasing the image, catching the moment, preserving something that will never again return.

How can this be boring?