Living a Rhythmed Life: The Challenges I Face

Hi, friends. 

So, we’re on the back end of the rhythmed life series. We spent a full three weeks looking at the concept of a rhythmed life from various angles, with last week allowing us to flesh out what this could mean for us individually. (To see a comprehensive list of the posts in this series, click here.) 

This week, I’d like to sew up the series by sharing some final thoughts and perspectives. I’ll share some stories from my own life about living this way, and we’ll look later this week at how the rhythmed life affects our online lives. 

If you have any remaining questions about this subject, feel free to chime in and ask in the comments. I’d love to make sure your questions get answered before the series ends. 

Today, though, I’d like to talk about challenges. 

What hurdles crop up when living this way? 

The one I face most has to do with my availability to other people.

Even though, as I shared earlier in the series, being with people in this approach to life means being more fully present when I’m with them, the rhythmed life — at least in the rhythm I’m meant to sustain — means being present to less people, and often being present in different ways than I would have been before I began living this way.

It means saying no to coffee dates and dinner invites and social parties sometimes. It means only being available in certain timeframes, which may not end up working for other people’s schedules. It means, for me, having to schedule phone dates with people I love rather than leaving things open-ended and spontaneous.

It means missing out on connection sometimes. It means other people might not understand why I said no. Living a rhythmed life means accepting these realities and limitations, and this can be hard. 

There’s also the challenge of how life just happens sometimes.

People get sick. We can’t get to sleep. Plans fall through. Our work goes through a busy season. The car breaks down.

As I shared earlier in the series, this isn’t about rigidity. There’s always room for grace and the unexpected here. This is about rhythm and intention, not schedules and rules. 

About once a month, for example, I have a work commitment that keeps me in the office all day for three days straight — sometimes into the late hours for each of those days. On those days, my morning routine and my evening routine must flex to accommodate. 

And that is totally okay. We let life be what it needs to be, and then we shift back to usual rhythm when we can.

Lastly, I face the challenge of comparison.

I just can’t do as much as other people can. I have a very low tolerance for stimulation and noise. I lose energy quickly in large groups. I need to take things slow. I need a lot of silence. 

It can be easy to judge myself for these limits. It can be tempting to goad myself to do more. 

But the reality is, I’m made the way I am in order to do the things I’m meant to do. The life I’m called to lead and the work I’m invited to offer needs slowness and great cadences of silence. I can’t do what I do without those things, and so my personal make-up become a proper fit for my life. 

Rather than compare, I have to remember who I am and the life that’s mine to live.

What challenges do you face — or anticipate facing — in living a rhythmed life? 

Living a Rhythmed Life: Getting to Say Yes

Hi there!

Yesterday we talked about having to say no, and today we get to talk about the fun part: getting to say yes! (This is my favorite part.)

And so, to orient us to this part of the process, I’ve created another little video for you that you can watch here:

If you can’t see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click here.

As I mention in the video, it’s taken us quite a long time to get to this point of actually planning out what a rhythmed life might look like for us individually. There’s so much to consider before we can even get to that point. 

But hopefully now, with the foundation we’ve laid over the last three weeks, you have a great sense of what matters most to you and what elements ought to stay or go in your life (and why), so that you’re able to begin plotting out the rhythm points of your life.

To download the chart/visual aid mentioned in the video, click here: 

Getting to Say Yes

Next week, I’m planning to do some wrap-up thoughts on this series — sharing some things I’ve learned, some challenges I encounter with living this way, and devoting some time to what it can look like to live a rhythmed life online. 

Do you have any remaining questions about living a rhythmed life?

Living a Rhythmed Life: Having to Say No

Today we’re turning a corner in this rhythmed life series that allows the reality of a rhythmed life to show up in our daily world. 

We’re going to talk about having to say no. 

Ouch! So hard. (At least, it is for me.) 

And yet, as I share in the video below, saying no helps us be able to say yes to what really matters. 

If you can’t see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click here.

As I mentioned in the above video, I’ve gotten some practice at saying no of late. It started back in 2009, with my original decision-making tree of discernment that I shared with you early on in this series, and in the 3 years that have elapsed since that time, I’ve continued to learn how to better flex that “no” muscle. 

I’m not fond of flexing that “no” muscle at all, but I’ve learned something important about this: 

The more intentionally I live my life, the easier it is to say no. 

Because I’ve created a rhythm for my life that’s based on my values, my way of being, my sense of calling, and the realities of finite time and personal limits, it’s become easier and easier to tell when something does or does not fit into the life that Kirk and I share together and that I feel called to live.

Do you want some examples? Here are things that have gotten my “no” recently: 

• Maintaining three separate blogs
• Offering spiritual direction by phone
• Making plans on Sundays
• Being the coordinator of a spiritual formation blog
• Freelance projects that aren’t purely editorial
• Grocery shopping on the weekends
• Making appointments before 1PM
• Creating a new online course

Some of these have to do with my sense of calling. Some of them have to do with values Kirk and I have for our home life together. Some have to do with the reality of my limits. Others are purely practical and made in the interest of my sanity (hello, crazy shopping world on Saturday afternoons!).

Where do you have to say no right now?

Living a Rhythmed Life: When Your Life Is Not Your Own

So, I’d love to hear from the mamas and the papas on this one. 

Living a rhythmed life is such an intentional approach to life. As we’ve seen so far, it starts with learning our natural rhythm, looking at what is, and then considering the finite resource of time and the limits of our own selves. 

And then it’s about making some decisions. (We’ll be speaking to that next week.)

But what if you’re a parent, and you don’t have the luxury of so much intentional structure in your life?

What if you don’t know whether your young one will sleep through the night so you’re rested and ready for what tomorrow holds, or when she might need her next feeding, or if they’ll have a meltdown day (or if you’ll have a meltdown of your own)? 

What if you’re running to soccer practice, dropping off at piano lessons, picking up from school, and helping out with homework? Not to mention making dinners, packing lunches, and getting everyone woken, dressed, fed, and out the door?

From what I hear from my friends who are parents (speaking as someone who is not one), life can feel like a a sprint and/or a marathon every single day. 

Where does a rhythmed life fit into all that? Where do limits and natural rhythms and finite resources of time go?

And does a rhythmed life even matter if you’re a parent? Is it just a luxury for those who aren’t?

These are such good and legitimate questions. And I’m stepping onto what I know is holy ground here to even address them — especially since I am not a parent.

But as someone who majors in the subject of formation and how it shows up in our real lives, and as someone who has thought about (and lived) a rhythmed life for some time now, I will offer some perspectives for consideration.

(And then I’d love for the mamas and papas among us to chime in with their thoughts.) 

I’ll say first of all that you can, of course, choose or not choose to live a rhythmed life. 

This series isn’t meant to be prescriptive. It’s meant to be descriptive. We’re exploring the advantages of a rhythmed life in response to life’s often overwhelming realities and helping you consider what that might look like in your own individual life.

The second thing I’ll do is ask a question: 

What might it be like to model a rhythmed life for your children? 

What if they learned from you the reality of limits? 

What if they learned from you the value of yes and no? 

What if they learned from you that being tossed about by whims of culture and expectations and even peronal compulsions doesn’t have to be their unqualified fate? 

What if they learned from you how to live intentionally? 

What if they learned from you how to tune into their own natural rhythm and how to honor the natural rhythms of others?

I ask these questions quite honestly. What do you mamas and papas out there think?

PS: Have you signed up for the Cup of Sunday Quiet yet? The inaugural version goes out Sunday! Would love to have you join me in this special invitation. xo

Living a Rhythmed Life: How It Cares for Others, Too

There are a couple of ways that I’ve found living a rhythmed life actually increases my care for others.

First, it makes me “really there.” Living a rhythmed life means fully committing to the ways I spend my time. It means saying yes to some things and no to others.

Which means that when I do say yes to someone or something, I’m really saying yes — no concerns about what else I ought to be doing at that time. I’m giving those in front of me my full attention and presence. I give them the best of me when we’re together.

Second, it models reality. There’s a subtle but pervasive pressure around us to do all things and never say no. We live in a time where limits are spurned and confrontation is feared. But as we’ve already learned, those pressures don’t live within reality. Limits are real. Time is finite, and we are finite too. 

When we live within the reality of ourselves and the reality of time, we model the truth of that reality for others. This, in turn, accords them an opportunity to live in reality for themselves, too.

It can be rather counter-cultural, really, all in the name of truth and love.

How might you better care for others by living a rhythmed life?

Living a Rhythmed Life: How It's a Practice in Self-Care

Hi there, friends. 

Today’s post in the “living a rhythmed life” series is a bit of an extension of yesterday’s post about the reality of limits in our lives.

Sometimes we want — and try — to do more than we really can. We try to stretch time. We try to stretch energy. We try to stretch ourselves so that we can do everything we either want to do or feel that we have to do. 

That is a degradation of self.

When we push and push and push, trying to do it all, we’re ignoring the reality of our minds and bodies and spirits. We’re making “the thing out there” more important than the reality of the actual embodied and spirited selves “in here,” closer to home. 

We just can’t do it all. 

And so tuning in to who we are, how we’re made and wired, and what we’re meant to do — and honoring that truth with the way we live our lives — is a continual practice in self-care. Honoring the self you really are. Not pushing beyond your limits, but living within what’s real and true. 

What is it like for you to regard the rhythmed life as a means of self-care in this way?

Living a Rhythmed Life: Our Selves Are Finite, Too

Yesterday we began to think about the finite nature of time — that there are only so many hours in a day, and what we do with them impacts what we’re actually able to get done. 

The same is true for ourselves. 

Our bodies and minds and hearts and spirits have limits. 

Some of this has to do with the natural rhythm embedded in us that we discussed at the beginning of this series — how we are actually made in our true state of being cannot do things outside that rhythm very well. We can try, and perhaps succeed for a time, but eventually we will wear out.

In other words, how we are uniquely made to function impacts what we can and can’t do. 

And then there is the pure physicality of our limits. 

Our minds function optimally for a certain period of time each day before slowing down and then needing rest. And the same goes for our bodies. We need rest, down time, recuperation, and sleep to recalibrate and recharge our embodied batteries.

Our bodies themselves make a difference in what we can do, too. Because we have bones and muscles that connect in certain ways, we cannot do whatever we want with the bodies we live in. We are limited by their structure and connections. And then there’s the actual shape of our bodies — if we are tiny, we cannot lift gargantuan things; if our metabolism is fast or slow, that impacts our stamina and pace of life; if our muscles and bones are strong and firm, we can move around and do things with relative ease; if they aren’t, we have to take greater care.

Living a rhythmed life means paying attention to these realities of our finite selves. 

What can the reality of your finite self teach you about helpful or unhelpful rhythms and commitments in your life right now?

Living a Rhythmed Life: Our Time Is Finite

Hello there!

We’re diving back into the series on living a rhythmed life this week, and now we’re going to look at some aspects related to time: how much time there is, how we’re spending it (really), and what the implications of that might be.

So, I’ve created another video for you. :-)

If you can’t see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click here.

Also, as I mention in the video, I’ve got a handy-dandy chart/visual aid that you can download called the Time Catcher, which you’re free to use this week as we continue our discussion.

Click to download the Time Catcher 

xo,

Christianne 

Living a Rhythmed Life: What It Is

Limbs reaching up toward heaven. 

It creates freedom. 

It creates space. 

It makes your “yes” and “no” more clear.

And:

It relieves anxiety and worry.

It lets you settle in. 

It increases presence.

What’s more: 

It removes the ineffectual and unnecessary.

It creates a sense of purpose.

It generates life.

It invites joy.

Is there anything you would add to this list?

Living a Rhythmed Life: What It Isn't

It isn’t about rigidity.

It isn’t about conformity.

It isn’t about ignoring reality.

It isn’t about losing yourself.

Also: 

It doesn’t look the same for each person.

It doesn’t remain the same always.

It doesn’t suffocate you.

It doesn’t snatch away your life.

What’s more: 

There isn’t one right way.

It doesn’t require having your life figured out.

It doesn’t make your life perfect, with no spots or mess in it ever.

What about this list surprises you or reveals something about your assumptions?

Living a Rhythmed Life: What's Going On in Your World?

Hey there!

In yesterday’s post in this series, we did an interior pulse check of sorts to learn our most natural rhythm — the rhythm of life that is most native to us. This provides a great starting point as we begin to explore the different facets and realities of life and how we might best live intentionally within them. 

Today, we’re taking the very next step: looking at what’s here. 

And I have another video for you, recorded this morning:

(If you can’t see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click here.) 

If you happened to watch the video from yesterday’s post all the way through, you’ll remember that I mentioned an exercise involving a tree drawing that I created to discern my way through an overwhelming season of my life. Today, in the above video, I’m sharing more about that tree exercise with you and am inviting you to draw your own!

As I mention in the above video, this is just a starting point.

We’re not going to try and figure out our lives all at once in drawing these trees right now. Instead, I’m inviting you to take an afternoon or a couple days or even a week to draw your tree and just be with the reality of what your life really looks like right now. 

And so try, if you can, not to judge your tree and all that it contains. You may feel it has too much on it. Or that the branches and little twigs and smaller branches you chose to include are silly. Or that perhaps your tree is not full enough.

Try, to the best you are able, to set aside those judgments.

This is not the day for making decisions about your tree. This is the day for simply seeing and being with what is. 

What is it like for you to do this tree exercise?

Living a Rhythmed Life: A New Series

Kirk’s desk.

When we celebrated a year of being faithful in this space a couple weeks ago with an open call for topic requests, one reader requested some meditations on cultivating the spiritual disciplines in our lives. Specifically, Terri said: 

“I’d love it if you covered more on the journey of cultivating spiritual disciplines. It seems as though writing this blog has become something of a spiritual discipline for you and I’d love to hear more about the obstacles you encountered and what was required of you to push through those obstacles.”

I’ve been musing on this request since receiving it, and that musing has formulated itself into a new series I’m going to offer here about living a rhythmed life. 

So much of learning to write faithfully in this space has been due to cultivating a rhythmed life. Rhythms have always been a part of my life in some way, but it’s only been in the last couple years that I’ve realized how much I truly need rhythms in order to thrive. And so — especially in this last year — I’ve become much more intentional about the way I live and spend my time.

And now I’ve realized that I have quite a bit to say about all this. :-)

The way this series is shaping up on the pages of my brainstorms about it, we will cover more ground than just my experience of growing into a life of greater faithfulness through the experience of writing posts for you in this space, though it will definitely include reflections on that experience. We will cover things like:

• The rhythms of our online lives
• The rhythms of our households
• How a rhythmed life cultivates self-care and love for others
• Exploring our personal rhythms
• Obstacles to the rhythmed life

Some parts of this series will delve into the spiritual realities of living a rhythmed life. Other parts of it will be more practical, more tactile, more down and dirty in the nitty-gritty dailiness of our lives. But I often find God in those nitty-gritty spaces, too. 

Will you join us in this new series? 

What questions, challenges, or even frustrations do you have about this idea of living a rhythmed life?

You Don't Have to Fix Yourself

I’ve been sharing with you this week about my personal health struggles (see here and here), and it’s been a bit of a surprising turn in the conversation for me. I didn’t really expect to lay out in the open with such gritty detail how much I’m personally growing as a wee babe in this area. (I usually leave extended revelations and stories about my own journey for my personal blog, rather than here.)

So I’ve been a bit perplexed before Jesus this morning about that, wondering if I shared too much or why he may have wanted me to share that much personal detail with you. 

And what I heard him saying to me this morning about all this is that he wants you to receive this truth: 

You don’t have to fix yourself. 

I’ve mentioned the principle of indirection here in these last few days. It’s something I’ve written about in the past a few times, as well. In a nutshell, I want to communicate that this the idea that says we can’t change ourselves by sheer will power or conditioning.

Only God can change the very fibers of our being.

This gets at the root of character. For instance, I cannot actually make myself into a patient person. I cannot make myself into a humble person. I cannot make myself into a generous person. I cannot make myself into a loving person. And right now, I cannot make myself into a person who cares about the way I treat my body. 

I cannot change my character. I may be able to direct my behavior, but behavior is different than character, than our nature, than our fundamental being.

And here is the beautiful news:

Jesus wants to make us into new people. 

He doesn’t want us to be people who just behave a certain way. He wants to make us into people who actually are patient, forgiving, grace-filled, generous, loving, respectful, and so on.

And that is work only Jesus can do. In fact, that is the work Jesus is all about doing.

And so this morning, as I sat with a bit of a vulnerability hangover at having shared such detailed pictures with you about my own growing edges in the area of physical healthiness right now, I had this image of coming to Jesus on the shoreline of that beach with a broken toy in my hands. 

In my own hands, the toy was a plastic, broken thing, sharp and useless and cracked into several broken pieces.

But when I handed the toy to Jesus, it became a soft, stuffed doll ripped down the back side, stuffing hanging out, an arm torn nearly right off.

I saw Jesus take that busted-up doll into his own two hands with such loving care and slowly start making it new. Stitch by stitch, with methodical, slow intentionality and mastery, he pushed the stuffing back into place and began closing up the backside with even, perfect rows of stitches. I saw the stitches begin to close up the ragged uselessness of the doll. 

He was making it new.

Jesus closes up our brokenness. He puts everything back in its place. He stitches us back together.

Our part is to let him do it — to bring him our brokenness, to put it into his hands, to stay beside him, watching him do the repair work, letting him put everything where he wants it to go.

We watch and wait with him, and we let him perform the operation. Our part is being with him, handing ourselves over, and complying with his movement. This is the heart of indirection.

How might he want to repair areas of brokenness in your own life right now?

Indirection as a Daily Choice

So, yesterday was a success. I consumed healthy food at regular intervals and showed up and worked hard at the YMCA kickboxing class. (The class made me so incredibly aware of the unconditioned state of my body!)

But this morning I face a new day. 

That reality has the potential to sideline me.

And that’s because yesterday was hard. It took focus and continued commitment to accept the choices I had made for the day. I was tempted to stop by 7-11 for a Slurpee on my way home yesterday, for instance. Several times, I looked at my bag of carrots and was ungrateful for them. I was sorely tempted to skip out on the kickboxing class because Kirk and I were enjoying a very real and meaningful conversation on the couch before I needed to get ready and head out for the class. 

When I see how much mindfulness and energy and commitment it took for me to be faithful to those decisions yesterday, I can get sidelined when I look ahead to the future and see day after day after day, stretching out to seeming infinity, of more days just like that. More days of decisions and commitments. More days of giving up my own preferred appetite for junk food, easy fixes, comfort, and a sedentary life. 

But here’s the thing about indirection. 

It isn’t about will power. It isn’t about gritting our teeth and bearing it. It isn’t about muscling through. And it isn’t about mastery, either.

It’s about small choices made each day in the mindfulness of God’s greater work within us.

And so this means, first of all, that I’m not in this process alone. God is here, and he’s working new realities in me that are so much greater than the small choices I make along the way to participate with his work. (I’m so thankful he’s the one doing the bigger, harder part of the job!)

It also means that this is not about how much I can do — how hard I can work at this to make myself better. That is not the point. The point is my acknowledgment of what God wants to do. He is about the work of forming in me a greater respect and care for my embodied existence — a respect and care that I don’t currently possess.

My part is mere participation, accomplished through small choices that acknowledge my acceptance of what he is doing.

And so today, I will not seek to overwhelm myself in this process. I will not look at the string of days ahead of me. I will not look at the one lone day behind me. I will not take on the task of being perfect or strong or full of power I do not possess.

I will identify small choices I can make today that cooperate with God’s active, greater work in me. 

In what way might the principle of indirection come alongside you in your own life right now?

Caring for the Body Through Indirection

Over on my personal blog this year, I’ve been sharing pieces of my journey toward learning how to care for my body. This is an area of life in which I feel quite inept. I don’t have many resources to pull from or habits built up in my lifestyle to know how to care for my body in an intentional, good-ward direction. 

But as I shared this morning in that space, last night Jesus told me in no uncertain terms that he cares about my body. This led to an exchange in which I could see that the nutrients I put into my body and the ways I strengthen my muscles and bones matter to him. 

However, I’m a complete novice at this.

There was a short-lived time in my life, about nine years ago (nine!), when I was exercising regularly and in the best shape I’d ever known in my life. But then I moved and couldn’t quite find a rhythm of exercise in my new surroundings, and the habit languished and died. 

I have never recovered that ground since.

It’s been interesting, in the aftermath of that conversation with Jesus last night, how pronounced his statement continues to be today. As I’ve sat in the quiet with him this morning, seeking to hear what he wants to say in this space today, all I keep hearing him say, over and over again, is that same line: “I care about your body, Christianne.” 

No matter how I’ve tried to focus in prayer to discern his words for you today, I just keep seeing and hearing him say that exact same line: “I care about your body, Christianne. I care about your body, Christianne.”

When I first heard him speaking it again this morning, I stopped what I was doing and wrote the post over on my personal blog about it. Then I came back to prayer. But again, he was still speaking the same line. So I started asking myself, “What could it look like to care for my body today?”

I decided that I could bring carrots and almonds and a bottle of water to the place I’m going to work this afternoon. I also realized that I could bring some leftover pad thai that I have in the refrigerator and heat it up in the microwave there, so that I’m sure to eat a real meal today. (The last several times I’ve gone to work there, I didn’t eat beforehand and didn’t bring anything with me to eat, leading to no food in my body all day long.)

When I still heard Jesus speaking that same line to me after all that, I checked out the YMCA classes being offered this evening and discovered a kickboxing class. (Kickboxing just happens to be the form of exercise I discovered that I love those nine years ago.)

So, yes. I can do those things today. Make a couple snacks, bring some leftovers, and attend a new class tonight.

It reminded me of the principle of indirection. And when Jesus — even still, after all those thoughts and decisions and steps had been taken by me this morning — kept speaking that line as I leaned in to hear his words for you this morning, I realized that perhaps it is this principle of indirection related to the body that he wants to speak to you, too.

Basically, this is the idea that we cannot transform ourselves. I cannot make myself into someone who cares for my body. I cannot make myself into a healthy person. That isn’t currently in my makeup. Only God can transform my character and overall makeup into one of healthiness.

But I can do small acts within my power to cooperate with him. These small acts — bringing a couple snacks, attending a new class, for instance — are my way of cooperating with God’s intention to form me today.

We do what is within our power to do, so that God can do in us what is not within our power to do. 

How might the principle of indirection be helpful to you today in the places God is seeking to form you?

Preparing the Disciples for What Comes Next

This is a continuation of daily posts through Holy Week.

—

After Jesus engaged in a truth-telling series of teaching with the religious leaders in Jerusalem, he spent time with his disciples. 

And what he did was prepare them for life after life on earth with Jesus. 

If you have a red-letter Bible and look at Matthew 24-25, you will see solid red letters all the way through. All of these red letters — the very words of Christ — are the words Jesus spoke to his disciples about what to expect about the end of time and how to live in the meantime, while waiting for it to come to pass. 

He’s teaching them how to live after he’s left them.

He begins by answering their question about the end of days, telling them how they will know those days are near. He prepares them for the inevitability of false prophets who will call themselves the savior in his stead. He tells them life will be hard. 

And he asks them, in all of this, to be faithful and trustworthy: 

“Who then is a faithful and wise servant, whom his master made ruler over his household, to give them food in due season? Blessed is that servant whom his master, when he comes, will find so doing. Assuredly, I say to you that he will make him ruler over all his goods.”

— Matthew 24:45-47

This teaching to be faithful continues through chapter 25.

He tells the parable of the ten virgins — five wise and five foolish — who awaited the coming of their groom. What made five of them wise? Being prepared with enough oil to light their lamps through the night, no matter how long they were made to wait for the groom’s arrival. 

He tells the parable of the talents — a master who goes away for a long spell but leaves his servants with some resources with which to be creative and useful and fruitful while he’s gone. Those who were blessed upon his return were those who did just that: used what the master had given them to some good and fruitful end.

He talks about a division of sheep and goats — those who enter into glory (sheep) and those who don’t (goats). What marks the difference? Those who choose to love and care for others on earth, no matter their circumstance.

In all this, Jesus is teaching his disciples — and all of us who follow him — how to live until the end of time. 

Be faithful. Be useful for good with what you have and who you are. Be full of love and care and kindness and mercy. Until he returns to set all things right.

How Does God Reveal Himself to You?

I’m back at home after a lovely, grace-filled week away at Captiva Island. There are so many gifts last week offered me, and I am still so thankful and amazed that it happened.

I’m also very thankful to be home. (I am such a homebody!)

Being home means re-commencing my morning routine at my desk. Being home means enjoying the rhythm and sounds and energy of our life inside this house. Being home means being in touch with the reality of normality. Being home means being back at the church we both have grown to love so much. 

And speaking of church, I got to wondering last night while enjoying the contemplative eucharist service we attend on Sunday evenings …

How does God reveal himself to you? 

He reveals himself to me in so many different ways. 

• There are the pages of scripture, and especially the Gospel accounts that teach me about the Jesus I’ve grown to love so much. 
• There is the love and acceptance and grace and truth given to me by those in my life who care about me. 
• There is the way I learn about God through my girl kitty, Diva. 
• There is the meditative experience of taking photographs, which I’ve begun to realize is a form of prayer for me. 
• There is the sun dancing on water and the wind moving through trees. 
• There is the beauty of sacred chant music and candles and written prayers, which we experience each week at the contemplative eucharist service. 
• There are the words written by others that break open and speak to my heart when I discover them. 

And on and on and on. 

And yet I was thinking last night that the way God speaks and reveals himself to me is only a portion of the ways he can choose to reveal himself to all humanity. 

The way he reveals himself to me can be different than the way he reveals himself to you.

For instance, God reveals himself to Kirk through the sighting of bald eagles flying high in the sky. A friend recently told me that she’s discovered a connection to God while swimming the breaststroke in a recreational pool, alone with God under the water, swimming toward the cross marker at the other end of the pool. One of my closest friends recently shared that being a mom to her newborn girl is teaching her so much about the incarnation of Christ. 

I just love that God can reveal himself to each of us in so many different, unique ways.

So, what about you? How does God choose to reveal himself to you? 

"Blissfully Unaware": A Valuable Spiritual Practice

When I wake up in the morning and choose to say yes to Lady Wisdom’s invitation to start my day, then checking my phone for e-mail is not the first thing I do. Getting up to date on Facebook’s news feed is not the second thing I do. Reading my Twitter timeline is not the third thing I do. Scrolling through my Instagram feed is not the fourth thing I do. 

When I say yes to wisdom’s invitation in the morning, I check my phone for the time, and that is it.

Then I stretch out and feel the softness of the pillow against my face. I revel in the coziness of the flannel sheets and heavy blankets keeping me warm. If Kirk is still in bed beside me, I turn to him and enjoy a few moments of conversation and connection. 

Then I make a french press pot of coffee and take the piping hot tumbler to my desk. I open my worn blue Message version of the Bible to the psalms, then flip to the other sections of the Scriptures that I’m steadily making my way through at the moment. I give Diva attention as she sits and begs for affection at my feet or jumps onto my lap or stands beside my Bible on the desk. I look out the window at the day unfolding before me — the wind waving through the moss hanging from the trees, the color of the sky, the squirrels running around on our driveway and our lawn.

On those days I say yes to wisdom’s invitation, I’m present to the morning, to the quiet, to my own heart, and to God in ways decidedly different than the mornings I launch straight into the clamor of technology. 

These are the days I feel centered. I feel rooted. I feel focused on the most important things. 

But when I connect to technology first, the day — and even my body — have a completely different feel.

I shake my leg at my desk and impulsively grab my phone to check for updates every few minutes. It’s hard for me to get quiet inside. Pulling my Bible in front of me and settling into its pages doesn’t hold much appeal. 

The day garners a frenetic energy, and I lose momentum on the most important things. I have a hard time being present to Kirk, much less anyone else. I feel lost and confused and unsure which way is up or which direction I should go next. 

It’s hard to remember sometimes, in those few seconds after waking, that ignorance really is bliss when it comes to starting my day. But hopefully, as I continue to notice the decidedly different feel the two different starts to my day offer me, I will choose more and more to be blissfully unaware from the start. 

Can you relate to this at all?

Our Burden Really Is Light

Normally I have no idea what I’m going to write here in this space until I sit down and spend time in the quiet with Jesus each morning. But I’ve known since yesterday that I was going to write this post today, when I was in the process of writing that our role is simply to say yes. 

What I want to share with you is something that totally changed everything for me when it comes to understanding what we do and what God does in our process of formation. 

Yesterday, I wrote that our role is simply to notice God’s activity in our lives and then to say yes to it. Our role is to say yes and to embrace his work. I wrote that God does the hard work — all we do is choose to participate. 

But what does our participation look like? What does it mean to say yes? 

Enter the principle of indirection. This is something I first discovered about three years ago, and it completely blew my mind. 

The principle basically says this: 

We do what we can do (something within our power to do) in order to provide an opportunity for God to do in us what we cannot do for ourselves (something outside the scope of our power). 

Usually this means choosing something tangible to practice intentionally and regularly for a season — something it is not difficult for us to exert our will to do — and doing it with the trust and intention for God to do the hard work of changing our character in the places he wants it changed. 

That’s what I mean about him doing what we cannot do. We cannot change ourselves; only he can. But we can participate by acknowledging that we’re aware he wants to work in us and by choosing something small to practice as an acceptance of that work.

This is the idea that backs up Jesus’ words that he came to heal the sick, for the sick cannot heal themselves.

It’s the idea that backs up what Paul promises about how God, who began a good work in us, will be faithful to complete it. It’s the idea that backs up what is told to us about Jesus washing us and then presenting us clean and perfect and pristine before the throne of God in the end.

It’s the idea that backs up all those passages I quoted from Romans 3-5 yesterday about God’s role and our role in the life we share with him.

Our burden really is light because our participation — our saying yes — simply means choosing to do something that is safely within our power to do, trusting that God will supernaturally use it to change our very nature. 

This is not onerous work. It is not meant to be. But it is meant to be intentional. And it is meant to be done with the trust that God is the one who changes us.

Hat tip: I actually wrote about the principle of indirection here about three years ago, when I first learned about it and was starting to have my mind blown by the concept. If you’d like to hear some specific examples of what the principle of indirection can look like in an ordinary life (my own), check out the original article that shares the way I began to practice it from the beginning. 

What simple, faithful choice might you adopt to enter into the acceptance of the work God is about in you right now?

Oriented Toward Encounter, No Matter the Circumstance

“I remember a time when I used to be much godlier. It was sometime in junior high and my room was clean. It must have been beautiful weather outside because the lighting was very nice in my room where I was reading my Bible every day and feeling really good. It was quite clear to me that my sanctification was progressing very well. …

But God took me out of that life and threw me into the rock tumbler. Here, it is not so easy to feel godly. … Here, there is very little time for quiet reflection. … The opportunities for growth and refinement abound here — but you have to be willing. You have to open your heart to the tumble.”

— from Loving the Little Years, pp. 13-14

I’ve connected with a few friends recently who are in the soul-sanctifying work of motherhood every day.

One of them shared with me that no station in life has presented her with the reality of her sinfulness so much as motherhood. Another shared that life is an absolute sprint from the moment she wakes until the minute she falls asleep. Still another shared a glimpse into the tension between loving one’s child and one’s God — putting their needs and desires above her own — and the reality of emotions and desires and hormones and personal needs. 

I heard that nothing has so fulfilled these women as being a mother — I saw the joy in their faces and heard it in their voices — even though they have found it to be the most demanding and humbling work they have ever done.

I also heard these friends share that intentionally connecting to God in this place is difficult.

How is stopping to orient one’s self and connect to one’s inner heart and an intangible God possible in the middle of a full-out sprint that involves Fruit Loops, spit-up, sibling rivalry, and getting everyone cleaned, dressed, fed, brushed, strapped in, scooting around town, and eventually sleeping safely in their beds every night?

There is bewilderment in this place. What does connecting to God look like here?

I am sure these friends of mine could answer that question much better than me. I am not a mother, and they are. They are the ones presented with the question each and every day who are finding their way through to the answer the best way they know how.

But I share these stories and ask these questions to draw our attention to this: God is here. 

Ours is a God who met a childless woman each and every year she came to the temple and did not fail to hear her prayer (Hannah). Ours is a God who met a king in the midst of his sin and called him to repent (David). Ours is a God who wrestled with a man so strongheaded that he bulled his way into every reality he wanted to create for himself (Jacob).

Ours is a Jesus who knew exactly how to speak to an adulteress, a blind man, a remorseful fisherman, a traitor, a thief, a mother weeping over her son, a government official, a leper, a pair of sisters, a man throwing Christians in jail, a prostitute, a man sneaking off to talk with him in the dead of night, and the list goes on and on.

If the Scriptures teach us anything, it is that ours is a God who knows how to connect and relate and speak directly to us, no matter the situation or circumstance in which he encounters us.

As the quote at the top of this post declares, finding God in the rough and tumble (the author speaks to motherhood, but I would expand this sentiment to include any and every station we might live out) simply asks of us an orientation toward encounter.

Openness. Awareness. Receptivity. 

Are you open to God meeting you exactly where you are? What might encounter with God look like for you today, right here and right now, in the midst of your exact circumstances?