Tag Archives: God

I Won’t Forgive

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I don’t think I normally have a lot of trouble forgiving people and moving on with life. I know people make mistakes and I make mistakes and you just have to deal with it and let go. Lately though, something that happened years ago has kept coming to the forefront of my mind. Every time I think about it, I think I will never forgive that person, I will never love them, I will never let go. I know bitterness destroys people. I know refusing to forgive hurts me more than it will ever hurt the other person because it will eat away at me without them ever knowing. Still I felt what this person did was unforgivable and I also felt very strongly that forgiving meant letting what they did be okay. It meant letting them off the hook and acting like nothing ever happened. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t pretend everything was okay and just go on with life like nothing ever happened.

Then earlier this week I read a blog post by Don Miller that got me thinking. Miller talked about playing the victim and using unforgiveness to control and hurt people. Miller’s words made me realize I was telling myself that if I just keep this anger hot and fresh inside of me then that person will never be able to get close enough to hurt me again. If I keep this wound open then I will always remember why this person is unforgivable and so deserving of my anger. Miller’s post bothered me but it didn’t bother me enough to make me change anything; it just got me thinking in the right direction.

Then today I was reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis and the chapter I opened up to was called “Forgiveness.” Great. The chapter after that was called “The Great Sin” (referring to pride). Fantastic. And finally the next chapter was called “Charity” (referring to love of course). Super. There I was snuggled up on the couch with a big mug of hot tea ready for an afternoon of encouraging words from one of my favorite authors–that is not what I got. What I got was a heart and soul on fire with conviction. What a got were hard answers to the hard questions I have been asking God (How can I forgive this person? Followed by I will not forgive this person. How can I love this person? Followed by I will not love this person). I have noticed lately when I ask God a question that I think doesn’t have an answer, he answers me anyway whether I like or not.

In the chapter about forgiveness, Lewis says the following: “‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.’ There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms. It is made perfectly clear that if we do not forgive we shall not be forgiven (Mere Christianity, p.116). These words shook me up a little bit. It bothered me to think that if I can’t get past this anger inside of me then God is by no means obligated to forgive my sins either.

Lewis goes on to say: “We might try to understand exactly what loving your neighbour as yourself means. I have to love him as I love myself. Well, how exactly do I love myself? Now that I come to think of it, I have not exactly got a feeling of fondness or affection for myself, and I do not even always enjoy my own society. So apparently ‘Love your neighbour’ does not mean ‘feel fond of him’ or ‘find him attractive’. …So loving my enemies does not apparently mean thinking them nice either. That is an enormous relief. For a good many people imagine that forgiving your enemies means making out that they are really not such bad fellows after all, when it is quite plain that they are. Go a step further. In my most clear-sighted moments not only do I not think myself a nice man, but I know that I am a very nasty one. I can look at some of the things I have done with horror and loathing. So apparently I am allowed to loathe and hate some of the things my enemies do. … For a long time I used to think this was a silly, straw-splitting distinction: how could you hate what a man did and not hate the man? But years later it occurred to me that there was one man to whom I had been doing this all my life–namely myself. However much I might dislike my own cowardice or conceit or greed, I went on loving myself. … In fact the very reason why I hated the things was that I loved the man. Just because I loved myself, I was sorry to find that I was the sort of man who did those things. Consequently, Christianity does not want us to reduce by one atom the hatred we feel for cruelty and treachery. We ought to hate them. Not one word of what we have said need be unsaid. But it does want us to hate them in the same way in which we hate things in ourselves: being sorry that the man should have done such things, and hoping, if it possible, that somehow, sometime, somewhere he can be cured and made human again. …Now a step further. Does loving your enemy mean not punishing him? No, for loving myself does not mean that I ought not to subject myself to punishment–even to death. If you had committed a murder, the right Christian thing to do would be to give yourself up to the police and be hanged. We may kill if necessary, but we must not hate and enjoy hating. We may punish if necessary, but we must not enjoy it. In other words, something inside us, the feeling of resentment, the feeling that wants to get one’s own back, must be simply killed. I do not mean that anyone can decide this moment that he will never feel it any more. That is not how things happen. I mean that every time it bobs its head up, day after day, year after year, all our lives long, we must hit it on the head. It is hard work, but the attempt is not impossible. … That is what is meant in the Bible by loving him: wishing his good, not feeling fond of him nor saying he is nice when he is not” (Mere Christianity, pp. 116-118 & 120, italics mine).

As I said before, my big hang-up with forgiving this particular person was the idea of pretending what they did was okay and acting like I’m just going to forget about it. What they did will never be okay, and unfortunately, I’ll never be able to forget about it either. But Lewis made me realize forgetting and pretending everything is perfectly fine is not what God is asking me to do; that is not forgiveness. When I realized forgiveness is wanting good for the other person, well, that is still hard to do, but it doesn’t feel like a lie–it doesn’t feel impossible. When I was telling God I wouldn’t forgive this person, I kept telling him I wanted to but it just wasn’t possible. I told God he would have to forgive this person for me because I couldn’t do it or he would just have to forgive me for my own unforgiveness–I genuinely felt there was no other answer, no other way to solve the problem. I realize now there is a way but it required I first understand what forgiveness really is and what I must do to offer this forgiveness. I am so relieved to know that this anger, even though it will rear its head again, does not have to hang over and control me forever.

I am so thankful God not only forgives me but patiently teaches me how to offer that same forgiveness to others in the darkest hour.

The Chasm Within

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When Darren and I bought our home, we bought it knowing (or hoping at least) that we would only live here for three years. Two of those three years have come and gone in a blink and now we are trying to determine where to go next. We would love to buy land in the country and build a house or maybe remodel an old farmhouse in need of some love. Darren spends the evenings perusing real estate websites looking for land and houses and then we spend the weekends driving around looking at what he’s found.

Since we’ve always planned on moving out of this house, I’ve never really put my roots down. I’ve been too busy counting the days until we move on to the next thing and then, I tell myself, I’ll really relax and settle in.

I say all this about buying houses and moving and always looking for the next best thing because I’ve started noticing a pattern in my life. I’m not just always ready to move into a better house on a prettier hillside, I’m always looking for something bigger and better in every part of my life. As soon as I get one thing that I thought I just had to have and knew would make me happy, there are five more things on the list of stuff I must have. I must have that outfit, that bag, that car, that job, that friend, that attention, that haircut, that vacation, and on and on it goes. It’s like I’m using all my life energy to dump water into a bucket riddled with holes; I fill and fill and fill and yet the bucket is always empty and I’m always thirsty for more.

I see too that way leads onto way, that is, when I finally get the bigger nicer house I wanted I must now fill it with bigger nicer possessions because the old stuff just won’t do. When I get a new dress, well I need new boots and a scarf and a bag to go with it because I just don’t have anything to wear otherwise. The more I get the more I want. Nothing satisfies. Nothing fulfills. I know this is true because I basically got everything I thought I could ever want for Christmas last year–and yet I already have a whole new list of stuff I want for Christmas this year–stuff I hadn’t even thought of needing until I got all that other stuff that now needs this and that to make it perfect. My heart is a greedy little monster and I will never give so much that it says, “Enough, there is nothing more I want. I am satisfied and content.” No, my heart will always say “give me more, give me now.”

C.S. Lewis said, “If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” There is a reason why all this stuff, however coveted, can never fully satisfy me; there is within me a void only God can fill.

There is nothing wrong with having nice things but nothing (not even everything) can ever fill me up and leave me happy–Hollywood is proof enough of that.

Someday Darren and I are going to find the right house or the right piece of land–but it isn’t going to make me happy. If I’m not happy right now today with God himself then I’ll never be happy tomorrow with God plus the perfect house. There is no room for God plus whatever–there is only room for God because God is the only “thing” that can fill the void within. I can be happy today or I can grasp for tomorrow–and tomorrow will come as empty and void as today.

The Day Is Not Your Own

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Yesterday was not exactly an ideal day for me. Nothing really bad happened but nothing went quite right either. By the end of the day I was tired and frustrated and a complete savage to be around. I was griping and grumbling to myself and thought “this is just not my day.” That’s when I felt a prick in my conscience like a splinter being removed from my soul and the thought occurred to me “no, it’s not your day; this is the day the Lord made and you’re supposed to rejoice and be glad in it.” Ouch. The verse I’m referring to (Ps. 118:24) does not say “if your day is going well then be sure to rejoice.” No, it just says rejoice and be glad–no matter what. This is God’s day; he made it—it’s his. So no matter what happens today, God help me to rejoice and be glad in your day.

“I think we all sin by needlessly disobeying the apostolic injunction to “rejoice” as much as by anything else” C.S. Lewis

“This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24, ESV)

What Do I Do Now?

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“There is a Power, whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,—

The desert and illimitable air

Lone wandering, but not lost.”
I first studied the poetry of William Cullen Bryant in a college literature course. I didn’t care much for poetry in college because I thought it was hard to read and understand. But even in college I loved this one stanza from Bryant’s poem To A Waterfowl; I especially love the last line of the stanza– “Lone wondering, but not lost.” That is how I sometimes feel–like I’m wondering alone through life lost and confused. It’s good to be reminded that even when I am lonely, I am not truly alone and even when I feel lost, “There is a Power, whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast.” Life can certainly feel like a pathless coast. What am I doing? What am I supposed to be doing? What do I do next? What does God want–what is his “will”?
Knowing the will of God is something you hear a lot about but many of the answers you receive are vague and confusing. Some people think God’s will (or plan for your life) is mystical and rooted in some kind of feeling that God is leading you to one thing or the other. Others think God’s will is very precise and concrete and that there are very specific and definite things you should be doing.  Personally, I believe God’s will is very practical and is very  step by step and day by day. I don’t believe I can tell you exactly what God’s will is for me for the rest of my life but I do believe I know what it is for today. For today God’s will is the practical things before me–going to work and doing my best, taking care of our home, being financially responsible so we are able to move forward with our goals and plans, being faithful and obedient to the truth, and so on. I don’t believe God is trying to trick me or hide his plans from me. I believe that as I walk in daily obedience God will daily make my path straight and will show  me what I should be doing little by little.
Today is not the hard part for me–tomorrow is. Tomorrow is hard because I don’t like waiting and I want to know what’s next. Tomorrow is hard because Darren and I are thinking through some big decisions that will change all of our tomorrows and it’s not easy not knowing exactly what is best and which path we should take.  One decision could affect all of the others and may possibly change the course we’re on forever–that’s scary and it’s a big responsibility. When I’m struggling with knowing what to do next and worried about making a mistake, the last stanza of Bryant’s poem comforts me:
“He, who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must trace alone,
Will lead my steps aright” (Italics mine).
Sometimes decisions are hard to make and it’s not easy knowing what to do next, but in these moments I believe God simply wants me  to look to him and trust that he “Will lead my steps alright.” I need to pray, obey, do the best that I know how to every day one step at a time–and trust that God will take care of the rest.
Here’s the complete poem that I have been referring to:
To A Waterfowl

Whither, ‘midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
          Thy solitary way?
Vainly the fowler’s eye
Might mark thy distant flight, to do thee wrong,
As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.
Seek’st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chaféd ocean side?
There is a Power, whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,—
The desert and illimitable air
Lone wandering, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fanned,
At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere;
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.
And soon that toil shall end,
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
Soon, o’er thy sheltered nest.
Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form, yet, on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.
He, who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must trace alone,
Will lead my steps aright.”

The Importance of Being Important

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Lord, I’ll do whatever you want (as long as it’s important).

When I was in high school I really thought I would end up going on the mission field. I thought I would move overseas and take the world by storm. I often prayed and told the Lord that I would go anywhere and do anything (except stay in America and help in a boring local church). I wanted to do big things for God. But that was just the problem–I only wanted to do big things. I wanted to do important, life-changing work…not just sit in the pew of a local church and help with the nursery or children’s church or other unexciting, “unimportant” stuff like that.

It’s kind of ironic, but it was much harder for me to be willing to stay in America and live a quiet comfortable life just working and doing normal things than it ever was to surrender to foreign missions and all the dangers and inconveniences that missions entail. Looking back, I see that my desire to do big things for God wasn’t even about God–it was about me. It was about me feeling important and me getting attention and fulfillment. The test was not whether I was willing to give my life to missions; it was whether I was willing to give my life to the quiet, unnoticed work before me. Will I be willing to work a normal job and take care of our home? Will I be satisfied and content if my life’s work is making dinner and doing behind the scenes work at a small local church? If I’m not satisfied with the small, unnoticed tasks before me, then I’m not doing any task for the right reason. If my motivation is to get attention or to feel important, then I’m not really serving God even if I am noticed.

The same is true with my writing. I often think that if my writing doesn’t get attention then it’s worthless. But is that really what it’s about? WordPress has this handy little stat bar that lets you see when someone visits your site or clicks on something you wrote. This bar is a great help in gaging what topics interest people and such but I can get obsessed with the silly little thing. After I’ve published something, I’m bad about coming back to the computer every few minutes to see if my stats have gone up and to see if anyone is commenting on or liking what I’ve written. I get carried away with the numbers–the attention and the sense of importance. If I’m writing what’s on my heart with the intention of glorifying God and encouraging others, then stats shouldn’t matter one bit. If something I write encourages just one person and no one else even looks at it then I should be satisfied to know that God has accomplished what he intended and it doesn’t matter how popular I do or don’t get in the process.

The truth is, no matter what the stats look like on a little bar, I will never really know the impact of my life or my writing–and it doesn’t matter. My job is simply to be faithful in doing what’s before me. The impact of what I do is fully in the hands of God. If God wants to use me, he can–but he certainly doesn’t have to. Truth be told, God doesn’t need our help in accomplishing his work. It is a gift to us that God ever chooses to use us. So if God gives me a small, seemingly unimportant task, I should do it happily, faithfully, and with a sense of honor. Who am I to complain about importance when it really should be such a humbling honor that God ever chooses to include me in his creative work?

Legalism and the Law of God

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le•gal•ism  (lē’gǝl•iz’ǝm) n.

1. Strict conformity to law; especially, the stressing of the letter and forms of the law rather than the spirit of justice. 2. Theol. The doctrine of salvation by works or strict adherence to a religious code rather than by grace.

le•gal•i•ty (li•gal’ ǝ•te) n. pl.

1. The condition or quality of being legal; lawfulness.  2. Adherence to law. (As defined by Funk & Wagnalls Standard College Dictionary)

   There is difference between legalism and the law of God. Obeying the law of God does not make you a legalist. Believing that obeying the law of God will justify or save you, that is legalism. Even though obedience to the law can’t save us, God still requires our obedience.

   I have been a legalist before and it was a miserable time in my life–I’m so thankful God saved me from that and showed me that I can not and should not try to save myself. After coming out of legalism though, I went through a time when I wanted to cast off all rules and restrictions and use “grace” as an excuse for whatever I wanted. I am finally starting to find myself in the middle–realizing what a joy and gift the law of God really is. I am starting to see that even though the law is powerless in saving my soul, it is still very powerful in directing my life and helping me be all that God desires.

   Like the rules parents set for a home and children, so God sets rules for us–not to bind us up but to set us free. We are free when we obey the laws of God because they are meant always to protect and guide us into a better relationship with God and man. God’s laws are practical, intentional, and always for our good. Obedience to God’s laws puts us on a straight path and helps guard our hearts and lives from unnecessary heartache and trouble. I’m not saying obedience means a life filled only with happiness and ease–sometimes sanctifying heartache is very much a part of that straight path towards God.

  All I’m saying is this–don’t despise the laws of God, don’t run from his rules in search of freedom–freedom is found in obedience. David often spoke in the Psalms about how much he loved and delighted in the law of God because he recognized that the law was meant for his good. The times when David chose to disobey the laws of God were also the times when his heart was broken and his life began to crumble. Trust always that God has your best in mind and his laws are meant as a loving guide towards freedom and happiness.

“This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.” Joshua 1:8 (ESV, italics mine).

The Potter and the Clay

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“Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Isaiah 64:8

When I was in college I decided to take a pottery class. I thought pottery would be easy and who wouldn’t want to get college credit for playing in the mud? Well, pottery ended up being one of the hardest, most time-consuming classes I ever took–and one of the most enjoyable too. In molding pottery with my own hands, I came to better understand the heart of God when he refers to himself as the potter and we as the clay.

Molding pottery is an intimate, messy labor of love. The part I love the most about pottery is the way the artist’s fingerprints end up on every part of their creation. As the soft clay spins between my hands on the wheel, my every movement changes the shape of what I create. My fingerprints weave in and out along the surface of the clay and what I am creating becomes as unique as the pattern of my fingerprints.

God is the potter molding our lives in his hands. His fingerprints write a unique story on our hearts as we are molded and shaped by his creative plan. He is as intimately involved in the shaping of our lives as the potter is in the shaping of the messy clay.

Clay is delicate and fragile. All it takes to destroy a work of art is one wrong move when the clay is spinning on the wheel or an accidental drop and the whole thing is shattered. After all the time and labor that goes into making a piece of pottery, the artist is quite protective of his work and is extremely proud of the beauty that has been formed from a simple lump of mud. God labors in his creation–and he carefully protects that which he has created. Why would he so labor only to shatter what he has made? He doesn’t–he protects and takes pride in his creation–in what he has formed from the dust of the earth.

When you are making pottery, you start with a lumpy ball of clay full of flaws and imperfections. To even begin forming anything of value, you first have to work the clay into a balanced circle on the wheel that is free of bumps and air bubbles. To do this, you knead the clay with both hands by pressing it hard against the wheel and slowly working the outside walls in until the whole thing is balanced and centered. Like the clay, we too start out as lumpy mounds of imperfection. But God gathers us up in his hands and begins his creative work. To work the flaws out of us, he must push, pressure, and pull us into usable pieces of clay–this is a messy, exhausting labor of love but it is essential if we are to ever become useful in the potter’s hands.

Once the clay is balanced you open it up in the middle and begin pulling it up from the sides into the shape you want. Once it is pushed and pulled into shape, you carefully remove it from the wheel and let it dry to the “leather-hard” stage. At this stage you put the clay back on the wheel upside-down and trim away excess, rough edges, and give the piece more shape and character. Like the clay, after working on us for a time, God often gives us times of rest and refreshment so we don’t grow overwhelmed–but his work is not done. There is still much trimming to do and this sometimes means putting us on our heads and turning our world upside-down to trim away the excess and rough spots so that he may ultimately add more beauty and character to our muddy lives.

Once the piece is trimmed you are ready for the first firing which hardens the clay and prepares the surface for glazing.  Again, like clay in the potter’s hands, God puts us through “fires” of testing to make us stronger. Even though it seems like the fire is destructive, it is actually the only way a piece of pottery can reach its full potential and be prepared for what makes it really beautiful–the glaze. Out of the fire comes a beautiful piece of pottery well worth all the mess and labor.

“I waited patiently for the LORD; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.” Psalm 40:1-3 (italics mine)

Note: None of these pictures portray me making pottery or anything that I have made. All credit for both the pictures and the pottery go to the individual artists.

Other Scripture regarding the potter and the clay: Isaiah 45:9,  Jon 10:8-9 and 33:6 and Romans 9:20-21.

Knocking On The Wrong Door

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       Eighteen months ago I quit my job and had no idea what I was supposed to do with my life. The smart one (my husband) had also left his job but had at least already lined something else up–he was taking a risk but he had a job and his brains to back him up. Not me, I was scanning the internet and newspaper in a panicked flurry trying to figure out how to get myself out of the mess of joblessness I had created. All along I was praying that God would open doors and lead me into just the right job–and I prayed, and hunted, and prayed, and hunted…on and on it went.

       Then it occurred to me–maybe I was pounding on all the wrong doors and asking for all the wrong things. Maybe the reason I couldn’t find a full-time job was because I wasn’t supposed to have one. After all, the reason Darren and I decided to quit our jobs in the first place was because Darren was working 70+ hours a week and I was working an odd schedule so there were days when the only times we saw each other were when we got up in the morning and when we went to the bed at night. I would sit in the apartment all day by myself only to leave for work when Darren was getting home. It got to the point where we decided what we were doing just wasn’t working anymore and it was time for a change. The change we had in mind was both of us working normal Monday to Friday 8 to 5 jobs not me being jobless. Darren upheld his end of the deal while I grew frustrated and discouraged.

       But then I had that thought–that maybe the reason I wasn’t getting anywhere was because I was going in the wrong direction and God just wasn’t going to open the wrong door for me. Maybe God had a different door for me to walk through and if I would just stop trying to break down the door I wanted He would open the right door for me without the struggle. Even with this thought percolating in my brain, I knew I couldn’t just tell Daren, “Guess what? I’m not looking for a job after all so have fun working yourself to death while I chillax.” When Darren took his new job it was with the understanding that we would both be working and that would lessen the risk of him starting over with fewer hours and a pay cut. Oh, and did I mention we had just bought a house? Oh ya, ya we did. I had no idea what to do.

       Then Darren surprised me–he came home one day and told me he really loved the way life was without both of us working. He loved working normal hours and his new job was working out beautifully. He loved coming home to me and actually getting to spend time together. He loved having the weekends to go places and do things together and maybe another hectic full-time job wasn’t the best thing for me (or us) right now. His words were the answer I needed. Knowing that he was loving life as much as I was, that he wasn’t worried about money, and that he wouldn’t be disappointed in me if I decided to stop working–it was a huge relief and the push I needed to make up my mind and settle on staying home.

       Once I stopped trying to break down the wrong door with a sledge-hammer the right doors opened up. I enjoyed staying home and spending time with Darren and eventually a position opened up for me at the same company where Darren works. So I found my job after all and we still get to enjoy a peaceful life together (I mean we work together and come home together!) and everything worked out when I was finally willing to let go of my plan and open my heart to God’s plan.

       If you’re pounding and pounding and the door is locked tight maybe you’re pounding on the wrong door. Maybe God has closed that door tight because he has a different door open and waiting for you if you’ll just walk through it.

The Edges of His Ways

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All the thunder and lightning and unpredictability of bad weather terrify me but the thunder and lightning are just the edges of the storm–the real story is above the clouds. I love flying above storms. The way the lightning billows through the clouds and seemingly sets the sky aflame is majestic. I’m not afraid of storms when I see them from above–when I see the whole picture. We only get to see the edges of God’s ways not the whole picture. Sometimes life terrifies me–I don’t know what’s going to happen next or what I’m supposed to do. If I could see the whole picture I might not be so be afraid–but I can’t. I must learn to believe that beyond my sight, the story has already been written and a plan is working its way out.  I must believe that the edges of God’s ways are enough for now and someday I will see the whole story from above–and it will be a majestic story of sovereign grace and love.

“Rock of my heart and my Fortress Tower,

Dear are Thy thoughts to me,

Like the unfolding of leaf or flower

Opening Silently.

And on the edges of these Thy ways,

Standing in awe as heretofore,

Thee do I worship,

Thee do I praise,

And adore.

Rock of my heart, and my Fortress Tower,

Dear is Thy love to me,

Search I the world for a word of power, Find it at Calvary—

O deeps of love that rise and flow

Round about me and all things mine,

Love of all loves, in Thee I know

Love Divine.”

-Poem by Amy Carmichael (italics mine)

Rest and Reflection

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I’m a very goal-oriented person. I’m a planner and a list-maker. I generally have a good idea of where I want to be in the next five years and what steps I need to take to arrive on time. In the areas where I am not as driven and organized, leave it to my husband to fill in the gaps. So you take two driven people who know what they want and you end up with constant motion and planning. We don’t slow down. Sometimes this is great–it’s great when you reach a goal and when you’re happy with where you are in life. But anything, however good, can be a problem if it’s taken too far. With constant motion, comes fatigue and burn out. Sometimes all the planning and counting, working and moving–all the good intentions to accomplish your best can destroy the beauty of where you already are and what you already have.

Sometimes, the most important thing you can do is to be still and be quiet.

Even though it’s hard for me to sit still, I’m learning that not always doing something is a very important part of everything I do. I’m learning to make time for down time and learning not to worry about what people will think even if they find out I purposely sleep in until like freaking lunch time one day a week. No alarm clock. No making a list of all the things I have to do that day. Just sleep until I wake up rested. And guess what? I usually get more done on those days anyway because I am rested.

I still sometimes feel guilty–even when I’m sitting here tapping out my thoughts, I feel like I should be doing something else, something more productive than babbling on the internet. But charting your thoughts and stirring thoughts in others isn’t such a waste of time, is it? And here I am again, justifying my lack of motion as if every moment of stillness need be weighed and accounted for. If you must find justification for every moment of stillness, just ask God, he will back you up.

When God was tired, he didn’t just take a nap, he took a retreat–forty days alone in the wilderness for prayer, rest, and reflection. He didn’t just suggest the Sabbath as a good idea but actually made it one of the Ten Commandments–he only chose ten and rest was one of them.

After spending the first couple years of our marriage working full-time and never seeing each other because of schedule differences, my husband and I both quit our jobs and started over. We had to take a pay cut which meant cutting other things out too and it was scary at first, but you know what? It worked out and we made it and I’ve never been happier. Getting to slow down and spend time with my husband was worth the chance we took. Now, as we plan (of course, we have to have a plan!) for the future, our goals are not so centered on advancing our careers or making heaps of money as they are on building a quiet, peaceful life together. We want to live in the country on a big farm where we can raise a family and build a slow, meaningful life together. We want to take our time and enjoy our days and get our rest–even if that means taking a pay cut or doing without a thing or two here and there–we learned early, the hard way, that a paycheck can never pay for time together.

As I was mulling over all these ideas, I came across this blog post that was Freshly Pressed here on WordPress. The author beautifully summed up my own thoughts before I could do it myself; I hope you will read her words.