rest Archives - Gina Brenna Butz

Rest for the Sake of Others

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 13, 2019
Post category:faith growth rest

This spring I began a program of spiritual formation through The Transforming Center. “Formed to the image of Christ for the sake of others” is the phrase guiding this process.

It’s that last phrase, “for the sake of others” that keeps running through my mind.

Who we are and what we do is not in isolation. There is power in how we live to impact those around us.

Take rest, for example. I have always been someone with a high capacity for activity. I’m ambitious. I often bite off more than I can chew.

For the longest time, I was unaware of the impact that pace had on me, to the point of outright denial. It’s like the popular meme I’ve seen lately, something like this:

Me: Why do I keep getting tension headaches?

My body: because you’re doing too much.

Me: And why are my shoulders so tight?

My body: Because you’re doing too much.

Me: I wish I knew why I got these stomach aches.

My body: Please for the love of God, slow down.

Me: I guess we’ll never know . . .

Only in my case, it wasn’t just my body telling me. It was my doctor, my dentist, my chiropractor, my friends, my family.

I used to think I could just tweak some things-plan a little better, delegate more, stay in front of the ball.

But after a while, I realized I was being unkind to myself.

So I started slowing down. Leaving more margin. Talking to the little monsters in me that drive me to perform. Giving them permission to stop. Breathing more deeply. It’s been good.

Yet, at the end of the day, I’m still tempted to push through busy days. One more task checked off. A little more productivity to get me ahead. The resistance to rest is never far off.

For the Sake of Others

Except now, when this phrase keeps resonating in my head, “for the sake of others.” And I realize that while I might be able to power through, I have to ask what it does to those around me.

Am I the person I want to be for them when I am strained to my limits?

What does it communicate to them about how they ought to live?

Does this pace form me to the image of Christ?

I never want others to look at me and think, “I can’t keep up.” I want to live my life at a restful pace and to invite others to it as well. May they never feel under the pile by the pace I set.

One morning recently, I woke up early because my body is physically incapable of sleeping past 6 am at the latest. My first thought was, “Hey, church starts later today. I could work for an hour.” And then in my Facebook memories, I found this quote from my friend Ken Cochrum:

“I feel it when I am not hurried to finish a conversation, a workout, a chapter in the book I’m reading, a phone call, a project I’m working on, or a meal. Hurry in me creates apathy and thinness. Ease creates spaces for authenticity, genuine concern, acute awareness, and ultimately LOVE. Remember, ‘Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day. You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.’” (including a quote from Dallas Willard)

Me resting doesn’t just affect me; it changes who I am with others. It makes me someone who walks better with others, it creates space for relationships with them and ultimately leads to love.

This is true of whatever way God desires to form us into the image of Christ.

[ictt-tweet-inline]We are the hands and feet of Jesus to each other, in how we live, work, parent, play, and minister.[/ictt-tweet-inline] How we order our lives not only shapes us, it shapes who we are with others, and in turn, who they become.

I don’t know about you, but this feels like a call to stewardship. We do not live in isolation, therefore we do not grow in isolation. For the sake of others, may we invite God to do more in us.

Related posts:

Choosing Slow

Learning to Walk (at an Unhurried Pace)

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

Choosing Slow

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 25, 2018
Post category:grace peace rest

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know I like efficiency. (It’s the hallmark trait of an Enneagram 3).

The faster I work, the more I get done. If I get more done, I’m more likely to be seen, recognized, successful, valuable. Or so the logic goes.

And so, I move quickly.

I drive, as I like to say, like I’m trying to lose someone. Not super fast, but fast enough.

Despite never taking a typing class, I type quickly (and with terrible form I imagine, but it gets the job done).

Each week, I speed through my housework like a Tasmanian Devil.

I dare you to keep up with me at the airport. Or anywhere, for that matter. I’m short, but I’m fast.

Grocery shopping. Packing my bags. You name it-I guarantee I am mentally calculating how to get it done as fast as possible.

It’s like I’m playing a game of “whoever does more wins.” Faster feels better. It feels like winning.

I don’t do slow.

Or at least, I historically haven’t. God started me on a journey in the spring of reclaiming space in my life. Turns out it’s more than just doing less. It’s doing less at a slower pace. Living an unhurried life.

I’m learning that having less in my schedule doesn’t necessarily mean my soul is taking life at a slow pace.

As Mark Buchanan says in The Rest of God, we are meant to sabbath, “not just a day, but as an orientation, a way of seeing and knowing.” Slow is not just about time, but it’s an attitude, a way of living.

So lately, I have to ask myself, “What’s wrong with slow, Gina?” What do I gain by all this hurry?

Maybe the better question is: What do I lose?

When I make it my aim to drive as quickly as possible, my body stays in a state of tension. Slow drivers irritate me, my patience wears thin. Other people become nothing more than obstacles. My focus is on my pace, more than anything else around me, including those with me.

When I type quickly, I feel myself ramping up. The, “more is better” lie whispers in my ear.

A day of housework at top speed leaves me exhausted, depleting me of reserves I could have spent elsewhere.

When I race through airports and stores and down the sidewalk, I miss life along the way. I miss the people around me.

And all for a few extra minutes, one more task completed, another email sent.

All this speed makes my soul feel left behind. There’s no space, no rest. Getting more done, getting there sooner, doesn’t guarantee more life, more love, more anything. I’m left impatient, exhausted, and irritated.

For the sake of my soul, I’m choosing slow.

So I’m choosing to drive slower than I could. When someone in front of me is taking their time, I often change my speed to match theirs. There’s a long stretch out to our neighborhood where the speed limit is 55. Recently I found myself barely driving 50 down it. (I used to hate people like me).

I’m slowing my typing too. It’s hard to do-fast habits are hard to break. But there’s a release of tension when I intentionally do slow (bonus: I mistype things less too).

Recently, I flew to Little Rock, Arkansas. When the people in front of me walked like they had all day to get to the gate, I was tempted to swerve around them. Instead, I took a breath and kept walking with them. It was good.

As I make these choices, something unwinds in my soul. Breathing comes easier. I remember I’m not as important as I think I am. I find peace I didn’t know was there.

Now I’m looking for other places where I could do slow. When I feel the temptation to speed, I ask myself what I hope to gain from it. And what I could gain from an unhurried pace instead: patience, gentleness, grace, rest.

Where do you need to be slow?

Related posts:

Learning to Walk (at an Unhurried Pace)

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

To Be Truly Still

Come Be With Me

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 27, 2018
Post category:faith rest

“Come be with me.”

I probably said that a dozen times during the week when our son was home from college.

It was good to have his presence here again. His words and laughter filled the empty spaces. More food was eaten. I did his laundry. Cut his hair.

We ate out as a family, but other than that, it was an average week. I felt we should do something epic, like a beach day (but our kids hate the beach, and my husband traveled).

But that’s ok. We didn’t need to do anything special together. I just wanted him to be with me.

I wanted to be in his presence, hear his stories, sift through his fears, learn what he’s learned.

So, like a creepy person, I followed him around the house.

When he watched TV, I sat with him. While he tinkered with his computer, I sat on his bed and read a book. Whenever I noticed him unoccupied, I called him over, “Come be with me.”

Each time I did, I couldn’t help but think that this is how God views us.

How He Sees Us

As I go about my day, often weighed down by tasks or worries, God patiently waits.

When I slow down enough to be with Him, the temptation is to make that time productive. Purposeful. I’m a soldier, reporting for duty, ready for my orders.

But He just wants to be with me.

I come with agendas. My prayer list, or the Bible study I’m doing.

But He just wants to be with me.

Or I convince myself it’s not that important to Him if I come or not. It should be epic, right? Meaningful time. Spiritual progress. Mountains moved. I should make it worth His while.

Yet God says, “Just come. Be with me.”

Yes, feel free to bring the needful tasks of your day. He will speak to them. But so much more He simply wants our presence. He wants to listen to our stories, sift through our fears, hear what we’re learning.

It’s unfathomable to me that God might miss us while we’re off trying to save the world, but He does. He watches us in our busy days and whispers, “Come be with me.”

Cease your doing. I just want to enjoy you. I love to spend time with you. I’m glad you’re here.

Whether we come in our filthy rags or we come in all our glory, minds quieted and at rest, or cluttered with the tasks of the day, He wants us to come.

I want to cultivate this awareness in my life-wherever I am, He is there. He is waiting. Waiting to sing over me, to listen, to laugh, to simply be alongside me.

“Your God is present among you,
a strong Warrior there to save you.
Happy to have you back, he’ll calm you with his love
and delight you with his songs.”

Zephaniah 3:17, The Message

Related posts:

Learning to Walk (at an Unhurried Pace)

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

Get Quiet Enough to Listen

Learning to Walk (at an Unhurried Pace)

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 1, 2018
Post category:grace rest

I shopped at Costco recently, and I realized, “I’m casually browsing.”

I don’t remember the last time I casually browsed anywhere. Most of my shopping expeditions are like ninja missions, “You have eight minutes. GO!”

This is one of the by-products of reclaiming my life.

It began a few months ago when I made the decision to step out of one of my roles at work. It was a tough choice, but one made from a place of humility: I was simply doing too much.

I felt called to slow my life to a walking pace.

In the months since it feels like my soul suddenly has space to breathe. You know that feeling after a big meal when you go switch into your elastic waistband pants? That feeling.

I’m finding margin in my life again. It feels good, for the most part. But it’s not without its challenges.

See, I’m used to running through life. So this invitation to walk, while inviting, is foreign. Walking is easier, and more sustainable, but I am not very good at it.

I know how to run. During my brief stint as an actual runner, I remember the challenge of faster, farther. No matter how hard a run was, the minute I finished my first thought was, “I bet tomorrow I could improve.”

It’s addictive, that kind of living.

Faster. Farther. More. Better. Longer. Squeezing every ounce of life out of every day, pushing the edges of our capacity, filling the margins until there’s no white space. After a while, we don’t know what it looks like not to run.

So in this process of learning to slow down, I’m finding I need to wrestle with two parts of me: my body, and my mind.

My body simply isn’t accustomed to breathing space. Just because your body slows down it doesn’t mean your heart rate does. In other words, just because you make space on the outside doesn’t mean your heart and soul know how to be still on the inside.

In this slower pace, I’m aware of how amped up my body can get. What used to feel like energy I realize now was anxiety, my body gearing up for a fight. I’m relearning how to breathe regularly, to notice when my body tenses involuntarily. Yoga helps.

And then there’s the mental battle. I find myself thinking, “But I could do more. Look! Open space in my schedule. I should fill it.”

It’s all fueled by deeper voices.

Some of those voices say, “See? I knew you couldn’t hack it. You’re just average.” Others say, “But people need you.” And still others, “They’ll be so disappointed.” And the worst for me, “Lazy bum.” The voices whisper that running is better. Faster. Farther. More.

The voices are wrong.

I recently read Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist, which in many ways gave me the courage to move this direction. In it, she says, “I’m going to find a new way of living that allows for rest, as much as I need, not just enough to get me through without tears, but enough to feel alive and whole, grounded and gracious.”

This is what I hope walking through life will do for me-I will feel wholly alive, grounded and gracious.

I want to walk at a pace that allows me to keep time with the slowest person in my life. Lingering with, resting alongside, listening to, and seeing others. I have a suspicion that the more I do, the more grace I will give the person inside me who needs to be slow, weak, needy.

Walking helps me love.

It’s hard to love well when we’re running through life. I might wave as I pass you by, but I can’t be fully present. My hope is that as I rest, so can you. As I live in the space God has given me, not striving ahead or pushing the edges, I hope my life gives freedom to others to do the same.

I’m not there yet. Living an unhurried life is a battle in this world. But I’m encouraged by the ways I already feel more available and present for the people and passions that hold my heart.

So feel free to ask me how my walking is going, or pull me aside when you see my pace start to pick up too much. It’s a journey. I’d love for you to join me.

Related posts:

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

5 Things to Do When Life Is Good

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 8, 2018
Post category:expectations gratitude rest transition

Five Things to Do When Life Is Good — Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash

Recently, my husband and I tried to arrange a night out with some good friends. He suggested staying in, and I replied, “Oh, you know how he is-he’ll want to go out instead.” And it hit me: I love that I know this person. He’s someone I did not know prior to life in Orlando. I love that God has given us not just new, but dear, dear friends.

Life feels good right now. Our cups are full. That’s more precious after the rough transition we had to Orlando. We have history here, good history. It is a season of joy, a time to revel in the rich harvest of this place God has given us.

So the natural question becomes: how can we make the most of this?

Because life doesn’t stay put for long. God keeps leading us to new seasons, and some of them are tough. Here’s what God has been encouraging me to do in this time:

5 things to do when life is good

Rest

Transition takes a toll. Chances are, it took some climbing to get to this spot. God gives us times when our souls can rest. Take a deep breath and look around. Get to know this new landscape God created. Don’t spend energy looking back at what you left, and don’t waste it trying to prepare for what might be ahead. Just be all here.
Give thanks

The practice of gratitude is so essential to navigating transition well. When it’s over, it’s tempting to forget where all this goodness comes from. Thank God for bringing you to this place and for every little blessing that you see. Celebrate the heck out of it! The other day I made a list of things I’m grateful for, and I felt God’s absolute pleasure in giving them to me. It’s His joy to bring us to wide open spaces. Realize that fact and respond.
Remember others

It wasn’t long ago that we were the new people, the ones without community or roots. Those people are all around us, hungry for connection. We could be the one to meet their needs. Remember what it felt like to not be in this place, and ask God to lead you to grab others by the hand and walk well with them. We can give them the strength we feel right now.
Bear witness

When you’re in the storm of transition, it’s hard to remember that there are places of abundance, solid ground to stand on. Scripture says a good word from a distant land brings hope. We can be that good word to others. Sometimes we’re discouraged from sharing about being in places of blessing when others are struggling. But bearing witness is about giving credit to God, and reminding all of us of His goodness.
Let it fuel the future

Life changes constantly, and what carries us through is remembering that God is our anchor. Like I said in my New Year’s post, we look back so we can look forward. Like the Israelites passing over the Jordan, mark this place so that in the future storms that come, you remember His faithfulness. You will expect Him to bring you back to places like this.

When life is good, and our cups are full, we let them overflow.

Overflow with gratitude to the Giver of all good things. Spill the joy you feel into the lives of those around you. Satisfy the thirsty souls who are struggling. Fill your own soul for the journeys to come.

Are you in transition right now? Here’s a podcast I did on transitioning well, including a summary of 10 practices that help us navigate transition wholeheartedly.

What to Do When Gratitude Is Hard

Plan to Stay

Having Hope in a New Season

How to Have the Perfect Christmas

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 7, 2017
Post category:Christmas grace peace rest

One year, I almost ordered 300 Christmas cards from, “The Carter family.”

We are not the Carter family.

Every year, I chase this elusive idea of a perfect Christmas.

In my scenario, all gifts (and I mean all) are purchased by December 15th at the very latest.

One day of baking suffices for all the places and people who require me to give them creatively arranged sugar.

No child ever asks me to help them get a gift for a classmate/outreach/teacher by tomorrow.

All the cards and gifts for friends are doled out early on, leaving plenty of time to simply enjoy the holidays, drink chai latte, and let Alexa play me Christmas carols all day.

I want beautiful family memories, traditions we all love and embrace.

I long for harmonious relationships, the Norman Rockwell family gathered around the fireplace. There is unity, love, and warmth.

But sometimes you almost order cards with someone else’s name on them.

Sometimes you try to make a gingerbread house and it nearly drives you insane.

There are more cookies to make, more gifts to buy, things are out of stock, there are too many parties, and the tree falls over of its own accord (I’m looking at you, tree of 2014).

There’s the awkwardness of unreciprocated gifts and cards, stilted conversations with family members, tiptoeing around the topics we know ruffle feathers.

There is a new empty space at the table.

There are missed flights, disappointed expectations, stressful coordination of schedules and outright painful interactions.

You start to wonder if you could just not participate in Christmas this year.

But there’s still a perfect Christmas to be found.

After all, the first Christmas was an imperfect one, but it still ended well.

I’m sure the Christmas story was not what Mary had planned.

She didn’t want to be an unwed mother, traveling during her last month of pregnancy, forced to give birth in the stench of animals, far from her family.

Joseph never wanted the stigma of his fiancé being pregnant.

He didn’t ask for the hassle of traveling to his hometown.

He wouldn’t have chosen to become a refugee in Egypt to protect his son.

But this is how God orchestrated sending his son to us. And in the end, it was all good, because we got Jesus.

The perfect Christmas is one where we find Jesus.

We do not owe the world a beautifully decorated house or a slew of Christmas gifts.

We can send them a picture that claims we are someone else, and they will still know who we are.

The tree can be lopsided. We can skip parties.

Say no to the strained relationships because they make it too hard to focus on enjoying Jesus.

Go ahead and risk what others will think if you don’t participate in sending Christmas cards or go to another party because your soul needs time to breathe instead.

Step away from the bustle and let him speak to you.

The perfect Christmas is one where we are lost in the wonder of what He has done, and our souls feel their worth.

It’s a Christmas where we search hard for Jesus, and when we find Him, we cling to Him like nothing else matters. Then, in a weary world, we can rejoice.

Let’s chase that with more energy than we chase the outward appearance of it.

So let your Christmas be imperfect to make room for Him.

Leave off one more gift to enjoy His presence.

It’s ok if the ornaments break because He’s still coming.

Step away from what is trying and rest in His peace.

Let yourself soak in the reality that you are loved more than life.

Look for Him, and you will find the perfect Christmas.

Finding Balance in the Seasons

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 2, 2017
Post category:peace rest

Years ago, I had a delightful life coach and mentor by the name of Dayle. She encouraged me to make a personal development plan for that season of my life. Being a planner by nature, I was excited to show her what I thought was a well-balanced plan. She took one look at it and said, “Gina, I’m exhausted just looking at this.”

“But I don’t know what I could cut out. All these things are important,” I insisted.

Dayle affirmed that yes, everything on my plan was important. But then, she suggested that maybe not all of them were equally important at this moment. That began a journey of understanding what it looks like to find balance, not in our days, but in the seasons of our lives.

To read the rest of the story, join me at Redbud Writer’s Guild!

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 23, 2017
Post category:anxiety dependence on God faith grace prayer rest

In the quiet of a dimly lit room, standing unsteadily on a foam mat, wondering if everyone behind me was judging my form (they weren’t), I tried to focus. Arms up, down to prayer, bend over. Lift halfway, down again, now back up and reach . . . and oh yeah, don’t forget to breathe.

It seems like the lamest command one human could give another, “Don’t forget to breathe.” We breathe on average 17,000+ times per day involuntarily. I have done it for over 40 years. That’s, . . . (I don’t do math) a lot of breathing. I should be practiced by now.

And yet.

Every time our sweet yoga guide said it, I realized I was not breathing. So focused on the action I forgot to inhale and exhale.

When I did breathe, my body relaxed. I sank deeper, and became more aware of everything I was doing. The places that were tight, needing more attention, spoke to me.

Our instructor pointed out that the Jewish name for God-Yahweh-was meant to be breathed. It’s the only consonants in the Hebrew alphabet not articulated with the lips and tongue. So as you breathe in and out, you can say the name of Yahweh. That is what we practiced. Yah-weh. Yah-weh.

A way of breathing that reminds us who is with us and what He offers. It calls us to slow down, lean in, be aware that the very breath of God is in us.

So, in the moments when life feels a little rushed, too overwhelming, too hard, I’ve been trying to practice this.

We must remember to breathe.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when that guy in front of you is driving 40 in a 55 and there’s no possibility of passing . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in patience, peace and the knowledge that we will get there eventually. Then we breathe out grace toward those who slow us down when we want to be fast.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when we ask our children to do something and we can see the objections forming in their heads before they’re even words . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in time to speak to the heart. Then we breathe out words that love and invite.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when one more person presents one more need for us to meet . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the space we need to question if this yes is for us or not. Then we breathe out an honest, humble answer that offers the best for everyone.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when our best-laid plans fall to pieces . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the grace we need. Then we breathe out a good laugh at the idea that we were ever in control in the first place.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when anxiety grips our hearts and warns us to step away from the brave paths God’s calling us to take . . . Yah-weh . . .We breathe in his peace, his promise that He’s the one who brought us this far and He won’t let go now. Then we breathe out the determination that says we will keep walking this way because He is with us.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when the pressure to be all things to everyone threatens to weigh us down . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in our humanity and let ourselves off the hook. Then we breathe out the tension as we remember that we are not the Saviors of the world.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . at the end of the day when we realize we’ve made it . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the joy and the blessings. Then we breathe out gratitude and worship to the One who gives it all to us. He is always with us, closer than our own breath.

Practice this Yah-weh breath with me. It slows us down, makes us conscious of the areas in our lives that need our attention, and brings a consciousness of His presence in our lives.

Don’t forget to breathe today, friends.

Related posts:

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

Lean In

Stand at the Crossroads

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 16, 2017
Post category:rest transition truth

It would never have been in my plans to make an international move pregnant, but that is exactly what I did in the fall of ‘99. When I was thrown into the newness of being a first time mama six months later, I was still wrestling to grasp a language as different from English as possible, learning how to lead a ministry alongside my husband, and finding my place in a new culture.

I was swimming in transition.

My love for our host country, coupled with a deep need for external validation, drove me through the spring to squeeze life out of every hour: studying the language while our son napped, taking him with me to meet students, our team passing him around as we met and planned. I once nursed him with one arm while wiping a poop explosion off the wall with baby wipes so I could finish in time to meet a student for discipleship.

I wanted to do it all. Six months later, I was overwhelmed.

To read the rest of the story, and how God used this verse from Jeremiah to minister to me, go to my guest post at (in)courage here: Stand at the Crossroads

Climbing 2017 One Step at a Time

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 5, 2017
Post category:faith grace rest

Two days into the New Year, and I whined to my husband, “I have too much to DO!”

“Like what?” he reasonably asked.

“I don’t know. EVERYTHING,” I told him (let me have this dramatic moment, mister). I have big plans this year, and those big plans are looming.

It didn’t help that I spent most of the last week and a half sick and fairly inactive. New Year’s Eve I was in bed by 9 pm (oh, who am I kidding? I’m always in bed by 9 pm, even on New Year’s Eve. A night owl I am not). After all that laying around, I came into 2017 like a racehorse fresh out of the box, like Pac Man ready to gobble down all the pac-dots and level up.

In all that down time, I was able to reflect on last year and dream big for this one. I filled that new planner with goals I want to accomplish and habits I hope to keep and books to read and ponies to ask for. I even added an extra page to capture the other roles and responsibilities I know God’s put on my plate for this year (I’ll send my planner 2.0 version to subscribers soon!). I immediately found myself wanting to chase down every goal, check every box, fulfill every hope that sprang to mind as I thought about this new year. And I wanted to do it before the end of the week.

It’s good and right to look ahead and hope for bigger and better, to plan for change and set our hearts in new directions. We want to lift our eyes from the path we’re on to see the next mountain we could climb. The problem is: mountain climbing is hard. Where to even begin?

Some of us look at that mountain and think, “What was I thinking? I can’t mountain climb,” and we give up. Others, like yours truly, think, “Well, if I run, I’ll get to the top faster.” Moron. You can’t run up a mountain.

It’s no secret I’m not the best at pacing myself. This may be why so many resolutions fall by the wayside: we who are so accustomed to instant results struggle to see the mountain and know how to conquer it a little at a time. We don’t know how to do the long journey. We have seen what could be, and we want it now. We see how hard the journey will be, and we doubt our ability to endure. It’s easier to decide not to climb.

The Chinese have a saying, “千里之行，始於足下.” (Qiān lĭ zhī xíng, shĭ yú zú xià for those of you who are familiar with Mandarin, or who just want to have a slighter better chance of reading it) We know it as, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

It’s important to lift our eyes, to dream of what could be. We must keep it in mind, as we live with the reality that today, maybe I only inch toward it. Tomorrow, maybe I leap. Tomorrow, maybe I check a box, or I accomplish something big. Then the next day, maybe I rest, or I go back and do the same step again. We keep our eyes on the top while we take the next step.

This morning as I walked, I prayed about this. I was reminded that I want to hold goals and dreams and hopes that are God-honoring, that are from Him. I want to do what He has called me to do, nothing more, nothing less. So if these are the mountains He has given me to climb, He can help me climb them, one step at at time. He can guide my pace, give me grace for the days when not much happens, and strength for the days I need to push through.

So I ask Him, “What step should I take today?” Do that, and it is enough. Remember: we don’t just have all year. We have our lives to keep moving in the direction He’s leading. The journey continues each day, one step at a time.

For the Sake of Others

I don’t do slow.

For the sake of my soul, I’m choosing slow.

How He Sees Us

This is one of the by-products of reclaiming my life.

It’s addictive, that kind of living.

The voices are wrong.

5 things to do when life is good

Rest

Give thanks

Remember others

Bear witness

Let it fuel the future

Every year, I chase this elusive idea of a perfect Christmas.

But there’s still a perfect Christmas to be found.

The perfect Christmas is one where we find Jesus.

So let your Christmas be imperfect to make room for Him.

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We must remember to breathe.

Don’t forget . . .

Don’t forget . . .

Don’t forget . . .

Don’t forget . . .

Don’t forget . . .

Don’t forget . . .

Don’t forget . . .

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