This post I wrote popped up in my “On This Day” memories from four years ago. It was the beginning of my learning to be still with God, which was simultaneously peaceful, hopeful, and unsettling (in the worldly ways) and scary. But He has been SO faithful! We have gone through some stuff since then, both good and bad. Great! And terrible. But He has never once left my side, through any of the “even ifs”. Today I wanted to share this, to help someone else.
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Morning by morning, in my quiet time, I’m becoming more aware of my own rhythms. Physical. Mental. Emotional. Spiritual. Some people are born with this self-awareness. I’m pretty sure I was born hustling, so I’ve never taken the time to figure out these patterns to tell you the truth.
God has called me strongly in this season to be still. To take time to sit in his presence and allow my heart to be transformed. For so long I’ve been avoiding it, if I’m honest. My heart said things like “I’m busy doing the other things you’ve asked me to do.” “Ain’t nobody got time just to sit!” “I’ll give you five minutes and then I’ve got to get to work.”
But five minutes won’t cut it. Not when your soul needs as much work as mine.
That would be like me taking the pork chops I am cooking for dinner out of the oven after five minutes because “we need to eat NOW.” It doesn’t work that way. The meat needs longer to transform into something safe to consume.
And I’m coming to realize I need longer than five minutes to “bake” in God’s word before I’m ready to nourish anyone around me either. Otherwise my best intentions come up short, at best, and disastrous at worst.
Just because I understand this about myself now, that doesn’t make it always easy to sit. To yield my own ambitions for the day and be still.
And since I’m very new to this thing, I find my anxiousness comes in spurts. I’ll be relaxed for a few days, and then back-from-vacation-and-NEED-to-hustle mode sets back in.
The last few days I’ve been very relaxed. I sit with God for a few hours in the morning, reading, meditating, writing. I work until 3, and then I turn it off. Give my focus to my family. And it’s been filling me up.
This morning though, as I was reading, the old voice of worry tried to interrupt.
“You know, this isn’t very productive.”
“Are you sure you’re being still? It looks a bit like lazy.”
“What if you heard wrong?”
What if. That’s the big question, isn’t it?
The crippling question?
The one that keeps us from taking leaps.
The one that encourages us to hide in safe places. Where there’s “no risk” (but really there IS a risk, in the form of no reward)…
You guys if I actually wrote down all the thoughts and worries that pop into my head, on paper, I’d probably laugh at my own ridiculousness.
And this morning the conversation with the little demon on my shoulder sounded a lot like this…(a creepy twisted version of “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie”—one of the books I used to love to read to my kids.)
“If you don’t get busy soon, you’re going to end up not hitting your goals this month.
If you don’t hit your goals this month, next month you won’t be able to pay your bills.
If you get behind on your bills, it’s going to snowball and you aren’t going to have a house soon. (Remember, you don’t own it, so the bank is there. Breathing down your neck.)
If you don’t have a house…”
And at this point, I realized what was happening and flicked the stupid little red-guy off my shoulder and away from my ear.
At this point I exercised something I learned last year. One good thing I picked up after pregnancy loss number 5.
One thing that battles the what-if monster like no other:
“Even if.”
EVEN IF.
And I said to myself. So what if we lose the house (first of all it’s ridiculous that I’m even thinking this. We aren’t even late on our bills!) But EVEN IF the worst happens- we will be ok.
We could get an apartment. We could live in a camper. Quite honestly I’d LOVE to live in a camper. We’ve thought of it before. Maybe it’s a secret longing for simplicity in me. Maybe it’s wanderlust and the romantic idea of traveling the world and having flexibility to pick up and go wherever we want to go on a whim. When our kids graduate, we’d love to live in a camper. So what am I so worried about? EVEN if I fail, we will be f.i.n.e.
And this newly started conversation with the angel on my other shoulder got my imagination and memory spinning in a positive way.
This week, spending more time with my husband…more REAL, quality, not-just-sitting-beside-him-and-engrossed-in-my-phone-while-he-watches-tv time…I’ve found myself feeling that old, nostalgic, 19-year-old, newly-married L.O.V.E. for him. The silly, sweet, want to cuddle…the YOU, not my work, are my escape love.
And pondering on this, I realized, thirteen years ago we stood in front of a church and said “we are in this thing called life TOGETHER, no matter what” (EVEN IF).
From there my mind connected this to my relationship with Christ. You see, I’ve always looked at Christ in the father-sense. Skipping over the parts about Christ being the bridegroom because frankly that just felt weird. You can’t be romantic with God.
But thirteen years into marriage (16 together), I understand now that romance and the physical part of marriage is just a small part of what it means to be a devoted couple. The biggest part is trust.
The biggest part is knowing that this person is there with you no matter what. Even if.
So as I sit here anxious because God has asked me to stop hustling in this season, and I’ve mistaken my hustle for what has helped me succeed at my work, God reminds me of what I already know. It’s been his blessing, not any special talent of mine, all along. His provision, not my proving.
And as I sit here and am reminded that God is my other groom, I breathe a little more slowly. My heart stops racing and returns to my default-normal, not my learned-rush. And I know that even if the worst DOES happen, I will not be lost forever. God is there. He comforts. He holds. He soothes. He redeems. He brings beauty from the ashes.
And when I ask him “What if I slow down and my income drops substantially and we can no longer afford our home or food?”
He reminds me how he cares for the birds. And the flowers. In such intricate detail. And if he cares for them how much more does he care for me?
He reminds me that BOTH of my grooms made a promise to me. One on our wedding day. And one- before I was even born. And the promise was this: “From this day forward, no matter what, you never have to go it alone”
And when I look at it like that, the even-it’s have no power over me. 💜
From Full 