Talk is Cheap, Grace Isn't

There's an old cliche: put your money where your mouth is. We can all talk, and talk is cheap (there's another, for you). The value of what we say is exemplified in a few phrases, which came from where I'm sure there are many more. The things we stand for will be challenged, and there will be times when we lose our focus. It is completely human and it happens to everyone. The key is what we do when we realize we've gone off track.

The last time she saw me, a cousin of mine who reads much of my writing said, "You're always trying to define yourself." She said it like it was a bad thing, but it's something that, in being hyper-self-aware, I know and am on good terms with. I am someone who likes to know myself, which is a challenge as we are ever-changing beings. So I am constantly trying to define myself. I would almost go so far as to say I fear finding myself at a place where I do not know myself well. It's not necessarily that I pride myself on it, but that I think it's important.

For as much as I aim to know myself and be self-aware, I too am prone to the occasional one step back. I did that recently. As I've talked about before, I went through a partying stage after returning from YWAM (of all things). I call it a stage because there aren't many stupid things I've done that I really care about, but this - this was a stretch of being really stupid. Basically I drank a lot. Thankfully (believe me) I survived said stage relatively unscathed, save for the fact that you can't un-have experiences. I'd realized after a patchy night of celebrating a party-friend's birthday, it wasn't even close to smart and definitely not worthwhile. Ever since, I haven't disappointed myself.

Finally this fall, in spite of out of character isolation in reaction to stress, I felt like I was moving forward, almost exponentially. I was re-entering a heart-understanding of where God has me and what He wants me to do. This amid heights of anxiety and...then I cut loose, a little too hard. Nothing detrimental further than disappointing myself in a way I've been very done with. I don't often wear guilt, but I never want my talk to be cheap; I mean to mean what I say. So I brought it to God, this isn't who I am anymore, how did I do it again? He kindly reminded me of something that He had kindly told me several years ago when I was similarly at a loss on account of my weakness:

You can fail a thousand times, and still...

It wasn't to say there's a limit, but the opposite! That my imperfection isn't a hindrance to His grace; there is no hindrance to His grace.

So I have been lounging in something; not quite guilt, but...a tension. There is this tension of recognizing my imperfection but moving away from it to the best of my ability. There's no promise I won't fail again; that I won't eat my words and swallow my convictions, but because of Grace I can aspire to move forward.

Many people have a misconception about the biblical meaning of "repent". It doesn't just mean to feel sorry, but to turn around and go in the other direction. It's so tricky that Grace allows us to turn around and change that which we would not otherwise have the opportunity, let alone the will to change.

Thoughts on Doing What You Live For

Have you ever asked yourself: what do I live for? Not some morbid question of why am I alive, or even asking The Point - just: what do I live for? What gets your gears turning? What can you pour into yet walk away filled-up? What do you dream about? What do you long to grow in? What fascinates you?

So often we sell ourselves short thinking we don't deserve to do what we love. Whether it's because we deem it irresponsible, or because there's something seemingly more important to do...or several things more important to do. I myself am guilty of this; I sit down for a Writing Day - as I've affectionately and cleverly dubbed them - and do everything but.

See, for a lovely season, I would take my only untouchable hours of the week (my Saturday morning and afternoon) to just write. Whether it be blogging or journaling, or - in rare shining moments - working on a story. It's my introvert activity; when I don't want to be social but I want to be active, I go to write. I'm an ideas person, but not in the entrepreneurial way. Concepts. I'm also a verbal processor. I like stories. I love written communication; it's this complex tool, yet sort of like a Rubik's cube but with multiple solutions. In recent months, this sacred Saturday morning tradition has fallen by the wayside.

I get there, and it seems there are plenty of better things to do...yet when I wrangle myself into doing it, it's exactly what I need. I've had a few conversations here and there about writing. I've had some with folks who are doing what they love and have a passion for, about the leap it takes to prioritize it. These conversations have been encouraging and for lack of a better word, convicting. They help subdue the commit-aphob in me that says I should probably try to learn how to be [a million times] more responsible before I aim to be more creative or invest time and money into learning more about relationships. These conversations silence the voice of insecurity that doesn't even want to try because I'm still learning.

The thing is that when I write, when I problem-solve in relationships, or when I photograph - whatever it may be, if it's life-giving the responsibility falls in line. When I give myself time to do the things I love, I find I have more space and less anxiety when it comes to doing the things I have to do that I have less or no excitement for. And when I'm in the habit of doing these things I love, I'm consistently better at them.

I have spent the last few months bartering my time for low-stress activities, and yet have been neglecting some of the things I really love. In that, I have concluded there is no easier way to come to a stand-still in growth and progress toward your goals than to put the things you love on the back-burner. There's a trendy phrase that my generation and millennials love and I detest, but in spite of my distaste for it, it makes a good point: "If not now, when? If not me, who?" I tend to think of it as inspirational fluff, but a part of me admits here that therein lies a truth. At some point, if we truly want to achieve the things we aspire to, we have to grasp the courage to begin. And beginning requires even the tiniest action...followed by another, and exponentially more. The remaining pieces will fall in line.

[Spoken like a true optimistic idealist.]

The Impeccable Insight of Mom

I can't possibly be the only one who's mom has impeccable insight into their life, right? I could be stubborn as all get out, and here she comes at me with this stone cold truth, smack to the face. I'll begin to argue, but my brain snags the train of thought - wait, this is MOM, she might have a point here; after all, she does know a thing or two about me...

Moms have that strange knack for cutting through the crap, and telling you exactly what you needed someone to break down for you. Mine did that for me this week. "You need to decide what's actually important, and let the other things go." It felt like a zing at first. Then I went with it for a few hours. Oh, my attitude affects my circumstance? Nahhh...

Here she whips out this simple yet powerful wisdom, like a hunter would pull an arrow from the quiver; at just the precise moment. It pierces: let the other things go.

I began to think all those little things made up something big, and I just needed to be told different. Take a step back, take a breath, take it in. Sometimes I mix up taking stock and analyzing. I'm big into analyzing. However, the tendency toward picking things apart and answering the "Why?" can get in the way of knowing where things stand, whereas broadening the frame of view might allow the reality to jump out.

For instance as a photographer, I could nitpick so many things (and I'm sure better ones do), but I often decide upon my subject of focus, frame my shot, open my other eye, adjust the frame, and shoot. Decide, frame, see the rest, re-frame, shoot. The little things tend to just work.

I think often our blind spots -- or maybe rather, the places and things we choose not to see, require others to open our eyes to.

Hope Amid Darkness

Walking through or into darkness, it is often hard to find hope. Moving through turmoil and turbulence doesn't seem to lend aid. You find yourself hungry for the change, but despairing that it might not come. Where in this darkness are you likely to find light? Where in the turbulence is the steadiness?

Though it seems melodramatic to say, as this is hardly comparable to other much darker difficult places I have known, I have found it difficult lately to have hope; to be joyful. This state isn't typically noticeable to those who don't know me all that well. While I've grown more blunt as life has taken the edge off my timidity (I'm sure some would read this and think, "What timidity?"), most people say that I'm always happy.

Case in point, in a very normal occurrence for me, last weekend two strangers remarked at it. One man I met interrupted the flow of conversation to indignantly inquire as to what I was "giggling" at. Of course, not only was I largely unaware I was even doing it, but hadn't a clue as to its inspiration. Not in a crazy, get-her-help sort of way, but it's just something I do all the time - not to mention get called out for regularly. I suppose it's peculiar to not withhold ones outbursts. The other instance was with a French man I met (less surprising that he should take note of my abnormal happiness, as the French tend to be more reserved in their expressions). After hours of conversation, most of which had been translated triangularly due to my out of practice ear, he told our friend he noticed that I smile all the time. I remember explaining this to others when I was in Paris with a cheerful shrug, "Je suis heureuse! [I'm happy!]".

I have been so out of sorts that I have been retreating to be alone as much as I can stand, being a rather undeniable extrovert. Subconsciously yet consciously avoiding that, when in the company of people, they want to talk about things. Further irony is that I'm a verbal processor... This is all exactly what I do when I shut down: isolate and muse. Though it may sound strictly negative, (and maybe someday I'll decide that it is,) I know I'm doing it and yet I'm fairly certain it's just what I need.

There are a few gems of activities where I can distract myself. Thankfully, sleep is still one of them. Running. Volleyball. Prayer. That's the big one. Currently, the idea of sitting down with the Bible is exhausting. Worship has felt a little dry. I felt like I couldn't lead people when I barely have the capacity to ponder my own circumstances, so I put down my small group. But prayer...it's this bizarre space where I'm focusing my energy and my communication with God on others, yet I feel alive and whole. That is my zone right there.

It simultaneously scares and excites me, because I do worry that I'll say the wrong thing, but it's also so great when somehow I say exactly the right thing and I can see the person before me being encouraged. I leave those interactions with more fuel than I came into them with. God showed up, and met someone where they were at, getting at me in the process! It is the only beautiful battle, one where freedom is truly bestowed; that is a sacred space. There, there is joy and there is hope amid whatever darkness.

That is not specific to just me, which I think may be the best part.