A Rule of Life

coffee cup notebook pen
Photo by Free Photos.cc on Pexels.com

For some time, I’ve been feeling a need for a shift. 2020 has an increase of activity in store for my husband and me and I’ve been stressing about how to make everything fit. I know God’s capacity will make up the difference for the capacity I lack, but I can sabotage myself by living in a default of unhealthy rhythms. So this year I’m cultivating a rule of life—daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly rhythms of spiritual disciplines.

Because I’m entering a new normal of increased activity, a lot of these rhythms are practices of being with God over doing for God.

This isn’t something I’m entering legalistically. None of this is set in stone and I’ll periodically adjust it as my life rhythms change and as my soul and spirit needs. But for this season, here’s my rule of life:

Daily

Morning hour of solitude and quiet:

  • A time to quiet my heart, soul, and mind so God’s voice can become clearer and louder.
  • No to anything that pulls my focus away from God.
  • Yes to getting ready for work, tuning my heart to God’s through prayer, Scripture, writing, driving to work, music, and planning for the day.
  • Inspired by Jess Connolly, I ask God this question: God, what have You ordered for me today?

Wash off the day:

  • When I get home and don’t plan on going out for the rest of the day, put on some relaxing music or a fun podcast, wash my face or take a long shower, and put on pajamas. This is a moment to transition from a mindset of activity to rest.

Evening 15 minutes of quiet:

  • No to devices.
  • Yes to free thinking, journaling, and prayer.

Weekly

Sabbath: (Thursday evening to Friday evening)

  • No to striving.
  • Yes to rest, play, and worship.

Weekly Quit:

  • At the end of each week, I write in my journal something I’m going to quit. It’s a practice of repentance, turning away from something that pulls me away from God, who I’m called to be, and who I’m called to love, so I can choose something better.
  • “This week I’m quitting ___________ so I can ___________.” (Some real examples of my weekly quit: “This week I’m quitting relying on my own abilities so I can rely on God’s power and rest in His capacity.” “This week I’m quitting checking email and social media before 10 a.m. so I can cultivate a rhythm of morning quiet.”)

iPhone / social media break:

  • I’m ashamed of my addiction to my phone and social media. At the same time, these things are important tools for my work and ministry. So I need this weekly break to keep my phone and social media in their place.

Monthly

One fun thing: This is one of my goals for the year because taking time to have fun is hard for me.

  • No to anything that involves striving or productivity.
  • Yes to…well…something fun.
  • This is worship!

Yearly

Family vacation

  • “change of pace + change of PLACE = change of PERSPECTIVE” ~Mark Batterson

Monastery retreat

So how about you? What are some of the rhythms you’re cultivating this year? I’d love to hear them!

My Goals (and Un-Goals) for 2020

The approaching of a new year means new beginnings and new goals. I have the amazing ability of getting stuck in a rut and judging myself harshly for it, so January 1 is like my grace and hope filled reset button.

I didn’t complete every single goal I set out to accomplish in 2019. But I did complete a good number of them. And for the ones I didn’t complete, I’m definitely much farther along from a year ago. I’d rather set a goal and have progress than not set a goal and not move forward! To help me make progress this past year, I tried out Powersheets from Cultivate What Matters. It’s a tool that helps you articulate and track your goals. I loved it so much I’m using them again this year.

My Goals for 2020

1. Cultivate a prophetic ear + a rule of life.

This is what everything else in my life will flow from.

(If you’re wondering what a rule of life is, it’s simply a plan for spiritual disciplines within daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly rhythms. If you want to know more about a rule of life, you can learn more about it in Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, by Peter Scazzero and Sacred Rhythms, by Ruth Haley Barton.)

2. Love my people and the people in my circle of influence well.

This means meals, coffee dates, hospitality, and life in the mundane.

3. Save, spend, and give money meaningfully.

Track my spending and create a budget!

Buy no more than 10 clothing/shoe/jewelry items…the whole year.

4. Send my book proposal to a literary agent (or 20).

This means I have to finish writing my book proposal!

5. One fun thing every month.

What is fun? Nothing that involves striving or productivity, and not something I do every/most weeks.

This is a goal I’m bringing back from last year because it was so life giving and I want to keep growing in this area. (And the fact that I have to make fun a goal in order to do it lets me know I still have a lot of growing to do!)

7. Project Dream Room: make our home library beautiful.

This is another goal I’m bringing back from last year. I made some baby steps, but our home library still looks like a disaster.

8. Love my body.

Take care of it. Nourish it. Make it strong. Be grateful for it.

*****

Un-Goals

It’s a great practice to have positive goals where we want to accomplish things or make changes in our lives, but we can’t do that if we’re just adding more and more things to our to-do lists. There comes a point where we can’t add anymore. We have to say “no” to things so we can say “yes” to the things that matter most.

So here are a couple of my Un-Goals for 2020:

1. Read less books and read slower. (My Goodreads goal: 5 books) Don’t read out of obligation or self-imposed pressure. Don’t let books clutter my mind.

2. No buying any bags or pouches. I’m obsessed with bags and bags I can put in bags! I have enough. So unless someone breaks in our house and steals every bag and pouch I own, I’m not buying another one for at least a year.

*****

When I get to the end of 2020, I don’t want to be full of guilt and regret. I want to know I lived the abundant life God ordered for me.

So let’s do this! Let’s enter this new year (and decade!) with expectation, intention, and a whole lot of grace!

Advent

pexels-photo-1487009

Advent is a time of expectation and hope, but the beauty of this season gets overshadowed by busyness, rush, and consumerism. Art has a way of quieting the noise and helping us be attentive to the profound things of life.

May this piece of poetry open for you a small space when the noise of your life gets a little softer and the whisper of God gets a little louder.

 

Listen

 

I groan

—a prayer too deep for words—

as I fight to hope and believe

I will hear Your voice again.

 

The Lord hears

—the Word becomes flesh—

four hundred years of silence

broken by a Baby’s first cry.

 

What the World Sees

close up photography of a woman
Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

I think too often, we miss it. We miss what it means to be a Christian in a world desperate for light and hope. We miss opportunities to live out Jesus’ words. We miss chances to speak life.

A friend of mine said, “Remember that the world will know we are Christians by our love. Currently, it seems that the world knows us more and more by our dogmatic stances on social issues.” How tragic these words are. I wish I could say they’re a lie, but it only takes a few minutes on social media to see they’re true. I’m not saying we shouldn’t stand for truth, but when the Church is known as a place where people will be met with judgement and condemnation, and when people feel that love can only be found outside of the Church, then something has gone horribly wrong.

What if we cared about people more than issues? What if we loved people with the audacious love Jesus showed in the Gospels? What if when the world saw us, they saw something remarkable, something beautiful, something they want to have and be a part of?

The world needs to see something different in us:

  • Less fear; more hope rooted in trust in a sovereign and good God.
  • Less anger; more love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
  • Less self-righteousness; more humility.
  • Less of us using the Bible primarily as a tool for making a point or developing an argument; more of us being grounded in truth, reading the whole of scripture with the intention of getting to know our Savior and share His love.
  • More of us believing God is who He says He is and can do what He says He can do.
  • Less of us focusing on the circumstances we can see right now; more of us fixing our eyes on the eternal Kingdom of God.
  • More of us seeing people the way God sees them, each person made in the image of God and a life for whom Jesus died and resurrected.
  • More of us living in the recognition of the extravagant grace that is daily given to us and, in turn, extending extravagant grace to others.
  • More of us seeking first the Kingdom of God and being motivated by the desire to please Him in all we do.
  • More of us making our voices heard in Heaven before making our voices heard on social media or in conversation with others.
  • More of us making room for the Holy Spirit to move in and through us and to interrupt our day with beautiful and wonderfully messy opportunities.

This is the kind of Church that will change the world, the kind of Kingdom God is wanting us to be a part of, the kind of culture He wants us to start living in the here and now. We can do this! Who’s on board?

In-Between Spaces

In March of this year, I went on a monastery retreat. I’m the kind of person who’s good at getting stuff done, but I struggle to be still. And there’s something about getting away from the daily grind, noise, and cellphone reception that revives my soul. I never leave the monastery the same as I arrive. And when I’m in the solitude and silence, I can hear God’s voice better.

The last time I had been to the monastery was October 2017. I left with a resolution to obey something God had been speaking to me for a while: write a book. I left excited, scared, and armed with a list of next steps that included finding a coach.

I didn’t know what I was doing. How do I write a book? How do I go about getting a book published? Who do I know who might possibly know someone who can kind of answer one of my gazillion questions? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

But I took a step of faith: I bought a notebook and started writing. Then I took another step of faith: I told a few friends and asked them to pray for me. And then when I felt like backing out, I took another step of faith: I bought a Giving Key personalized with the word, “Write,” so I could have a constant reminder of this thing I felt God calling me to do.

I took step after step after step.

And in the midst of all of these steps, there was a LOT of writer’s block and discouragement. I could write details about my book’s target audience, posts for my blog and social media that had nothing to do with my book, and other random stuff…but every time I sat down to work on my book proposal, nothing. It’s like the faucet of book proposal words had been shut off and the handles for me to turn it back on had disappeared.

Going into 2019, I took yet another step of faith: I joined a Go Team, an intensive coaching experience with Go + Tell Gals. I was hesitant to do it because I was nervous about the money and time it would require, but something inside me told me I needed to do it. I prayed and prayed, but the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. But what if I spend all this money and time and it ends up being a waste? That’s the thing about taking steps of faith: you have to take the step before you can see what’s on the other side of it.

Each Go Team session felt like a transformative experience—scrubbing my soul, clarifying my vision, awakening inspiration. A few months into it, after an intense day of back-to-back coaching sessions, I felt something I hadn’t felt in almost a year: words bubbling up inside of me. I opened up Google Docs and my book proposal began to have less blank space and more substance. A couple days later, I went on my monastery retreat. And while I was there, I mapped out my chapter-by-chapter synopsis and wrote two whole chapters. Of course, everything I wrote was rough and in need of a lot of work, but it was huge breakthrough. And sometimes, that’s all we need. Not perfection, just breakthrough.

When we think of breakthrough, we tend to think of the flashy moments with all the big feelings. But breakthrough is made up of all the stuff that happens in the in-between spaces, the spaces where it seems like nothing is happening.

Praying even when God seems silent.

Daily choosing to obey God in the way He’s ordered for that day.

Consistently taking the next step even when it seems inconsequentially small or unfeasibly large.

Constantly surrendering our egos and desire for control and trusting the capacity of God.

Regularly doing the disciplines of writing and research (or whatever it is this calling requires) even when they bring out our insecurities and we feel like what we’re doing is trash.

This is the stuff, right here. The stuff people don’t see. The stuff that’s hard. You may not be able to see it now, but this in-between space, yeah, this is where the great stuff is being forged.

img_0796
October 2017 – when I decided to obey God’s call to write a book
img_5612
March 2019 – in the middle of obeying the call to write a book

More to See

acs_0464-1

“I know how to tell the difference between a slur and a tie!” my young piano student declared, moments after learning what ties are for the first time.

Skeptically, I asked, “You do? How?”

“A slur is always higher than a tie,” pointing to his music. (For those who care, his piece had slurs in the treble clef and ties in the bass clef.)

“Well, it’s like that here,”—I tried to be gentle—”but sometimes a tie is higher.”

“Ok! Well,” he continued confidently, “a slur is always longer than a tie.”

I pulled out a music book sitting beside me, again showing him he had more to learn about slurs and ties.

He wanted so much to keep trying to prove he knew what he didn’t actually know. But if I had let him keep going, the time would’ve run out on his 30-minute lesson before he could learn the difference between a slur and a tie.

“I’ve seen a lot more slurs than you,” I said, “and I’ve seen a lot more ties than you. So let me show you how you can tell the difference between the two.”

How often do we think we’ve figured out faith and God after we’ve learned or experienced some things? Our minds naturally try to sort new information into categories and patterns, but when we reduce things to patterns or formulas, we miss out on the infinite more. We stop seeking, studying, experiencing, pushing forward, digging deeper. We get satisfied—proud even—with our small picture of God. We think we’re wise and mature when really we’re just stuck in an existence void of awe and wonder.

We often live out our faith on auto-pilot and neglect to leave space for the years to pour into us more learning and experience, for the wisdom of others to refine us, and for God Himself to reveal to us a bigger picture of who He is and what He can do.

Sometimes the way God works is like simple arithmetic. Sometimes the way He works is like the Fibonacci sequence, opening us up to a world of wonder. And sometimes His ways are too abstract or messy or wild for us to reduce to a formula any human can fully comprehend or imagine.

All the while, God is daily beckoning us to sit with Him and humbly listen. “I’ve seen more than you, and there’s still more for you to see. Let me show you.”

When the Dream Dies

img_5488-1
Me, circa 2005

To my bright-eyed, 21 year-old self:

People tell you that you’re talented and anointed. “You’re gonna change the world,” they say. (You’re never going to stop believing that!) Your life is overflowing with possibility.

But before your 25th birthday, you’ll pour your heart and energy into a beautiful, God-sized dream and that dream will fail.

And it will feel like death.

When the dream dies, you’ll question if you really did hear the voice of God calling you to this dream or if you just imagined it. You’ll wonder about the myriad of things you could have done differently. You’ll worry your life is over. You’ll fear you’re too broken to try anything worthwhile again.

But as your mind spins with a myriad of questions and emotions, please let yourself mourn. Grieve this death. Feel the pain—God can’t comfort the hurts you refuse to feel. Allow yourself to feel this, even if that means you find yourself kneeling on your cold, bathroom floor crying in agony. Your agony is not too big for God. It is safe in His presence. You are safe in His presence.

When the dream dies, you will learn that your tears don’t make you weak. You’ll learn that you are strong and God is stronger.

One dead dream does not mean the death of all dreams. There will be beautiful things waiting for you on the other side of this.

When the dream dies, your life won’t be ending. It will be a new beginning.

Over time, He will resurrect you from the ashes. You will hope again. You will be courageous again. And you will dream again.

 

Not Called to Be the Best

book page near black laptop
Photo by Vitaly Vlasov on Pexels.com

Warning: If learning about someone’s insecurities makes them less credible to you, then stop reading and feel free to unfollow me. But if you’re all too familiar with struggling to figure out how you can honor God when you’re not the best, not good enough, and your mind is drowning in insecurity…this is for you.

Following the whisper of God isn’t easy.

“Write,” He said to me.

There are days when I feel inspired to write and words come gushing out as my fingers race to catch them before they disappear. But more often than not, writing feels like squeezing droplets of stuff that’s barely intelligible from my brain.

I’m not the best writer. Most days, I don’t even believe I’m a good writer. And my goodness, are there any other writers out there who write as slow and inefficiently as me?!? (I mean, I know there are, but when I’m alone with my computer, it feels like I’m the only one.)

And this is where following God’s whisper gets tough.

I want to give God my best, but when my best doesn’t feel good enough, I exclaim, “God, why did You choose me for this? I can’t do this!”

And what I really mean is

I’m not the best at this.

This is too hard for me.

You picked the wrong person.

I tried. Can I quit now?

And God whispers to my frustrated soul,

“Walk in obedience.

Abide in My presence.

Rest in My capacity.

This is going to be beautiful.”

God hasn’t called me to be the best or to a life of endless productivity and efficiency. He has called me to obedience, abiding, and rest.

And I must daily die to

my perfectionism and competitiveness,

my obsession with productivity and efficiency,

and my ego and insecurities,

so I can follow Jesus

into a life of wild abundance,

wonder and beauty,

and the pursuit of God-sized, Kingdom dreams.

 


 

Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.'” (Matthew 16:24, ESV)

What is God whispering to you in this season of your life?

What do you need to die to today so you can follow God’s whisper?