rest Archives - Page 2 of 3 - Gina Brenna Butz

To Truly Be Still

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 29, 2016
Post category:peace rest

Learning to Be Truly Still — Photo by Anton Darius | @theSollers on Unsplash

It’s completely quiet in my house right now. For the first time in nearly 20 years, I have a week alone.

My husband took our two kids to Vermont this week to ski, and I opted to stay home, work, and take care of the dog. To me, skiing is an expensive exercise in trying not to kill yourself in cold weather.

Truth be told, my heart jumped at the possibility of time alone. I love it. My soul can breathe again. Or it could, if I would just be still.

I’ve realized, through the past few years, that there is a big difference between being alone and being quiet.

There might not be anyone around, but I can still keep my soul from settling into any sort of stillness. I write, work, clean, (just kidding, I probably don’t clean), walk the dog, watch TV, read. I do a million activities with my alone time, but the real challenge for me is to actually be still.

What Happens When We’re Still

Still enough to feel my own soul. To experience the emptiness, sadness, or anxiety I use all that activity to avoid. Still enough to reflect on my life and make more purposeful decisions. To maybe do less but do it with more meaning. Still enough to hear His voice. To let Him minister to me in all those emotions. Still enough to let Him guide my activities.

I know why I struggle to be still. It scares me. I’m afraid if I stop producing I stop having value. I like feeling I’ve made the most of every day. And yes, it is important to use every moment wisely. But what if the greatest wisdom for us in a given moment is to simply be?

When I do slow down, and allow myself the freedom to do nothing more than exist, my soul can rest. It can loosen its grip on the lie that I have to do anything to warrant praise.

In stillness, I am reminded that all my activity is no substitute for the bread of life He offers me. It cannot feed my soul like stillness can.

So yesterday was a “just be” day. I slept in. Lingered in the Word. When unexpected tears I couldn’t explain other than, “I think I just needed release” came, I let them fall.

I pushed aside the “should do” and “ought to” of my never ending to do list and determined to just enjoy a non-productive day. Took deep breaths. Napped. I pursued stillness.

Be Still and Know

Be still and know. I feel like this has been the theme of so many of my posts these last few months, but it’s a hard lesson to learn in a culture that does its best to push and push us beyond our limits, that doesn’t invite us to slow down. So I will keep saying it, to myself and others.

Consider this your invitation.

When was the last time you gave yourself permission to be still? What messages rise to the surface when you try to practice stillness? Is it the same “productivity=value” lie I am inclined to believe? Does guilt about setting aside responsibility raise? Do you fear that your carefully crafted world will fall apart in your absence? Whatever might try to hold you back, don’t forfeit the peace, joy, strength and rest God longs to give you in the midst of a busy life.

Cease Striving

Let Go and Let Him Hold You

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 22, 2016
Post category:peace rest

These last few months have been tough. I’ve ventured in to new areas that make me uncomfortable and scared and bone-weary, resulting in a lot of anxiety, and at times, depression. Being the get ‘er done girl that I am, my gut reaction to seasons like this is, “Ok, so what do I need to DO, God?” I can’t just let go.

Give me the formula to get back to awesome. Show me what scriptures to dwell on, what truth to grasp, what prayers to pray. Show me my error and I’ll fix it. Tell me what to think and do and I’ll do it. I will make it happen.

But maybe instead of doing, we’re supposed to stop trying to save ourselves and just let go.

I was reminded last night of a poem I read years ago, back when I first started to realize what a winding road faith can be. I read it like God is speaking to me.

First Lesson
by Philip Booth

Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you.
Spread your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls.
A dead-man’s float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea.
Daughter, believe me,
when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

Have you spent much time floating on water? Picture yourself like this child, trusting her father to hold her as she’s learning to swim, when she’s scared and tired. There’s something so freeing and relaxing about it if we can let go of trying to keep ourselves afloat and just let the water hold us. The father reminds his daughter to look to that which is bigger than her. It’s the definition of “Be still and know.”

Know that He is there.

Nothing is wasted. Every tear is caught, and every sigh is heard.

He knows what He’s doing with us.

The way out of our wilderness is clear to Him, and He will lead us in His timing and His ways.

The places that seem the most stagnant are often the places where He is preparing us for something we cannot see.

His love will hold us, when we let go.

Related posts:

I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I D0)

Get Quiet Enough to Listen

The Battle Belongs to Him

Grace for the Less Than Ideal Days

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 15, 2016
Post category:expectations grace rest

Some days, you end up eating dinner with a My Little Pony fork. And that’s ok.

It’s the time of year when a lot of activities start up again and with them, adjustment of schedules and coordination of details. It’s “who’s driving whom,” and “when will we eat,” and “oh right, we have a dog-did anyone feed the dog today?” (answer: probably not. That could explain why she’s staring at me so hard).

Strategic is one of my Strengths Finder top 5, so I tackle life like I’m playing a game of Tetris. Sometimes, I’m just not fast enough to make the pieces fit right.

Like Wednesday. It started out well, but when I got home at 4:30 and realized all that needed to occur before taking the kids to youth group by 7, I thought, “not gonna happen.”

My ideal scenario

Here’s my ideal scenario: dinner planned and ready by 6. Husband at home eating with us, at the table, with real plates and silverware, and engaging conversation. Dog walked, sheets out of the dryer and back on our bed. The dishwasher already clean and unloaded. Homework done and checked.

Instead, we ate dinner in the car out of plastic bowls on the way to youth group, so our car smelled like onions the rest of the night. My husband walked in the door, changed, helped with two pre-calc questions, and walked back out the door. The neighbor walked the dog. The sheets stayed in the dryer. There was still homework to be done. The last half hour before leaving I bordered on Tasmanian Devil mode. Which brings me to the My Little Pony fork-it was the only one left.

We all have pictures of our ideal life. We know how we want our relationships to be, how we want to conduct ourselves, run our homes, succeed at work and parenting and ministry and whatever fills our space.

But some days reality doesn’t match our ideals. For those days, there’s grace.

It’s tempting to stress when my ideals crumble to pieces. But as Anne Lamott says, “Perfectionism will keep you insane your whole life.”

So it’s life-giving to remember that especially when our lives take a different shape, there’s grace. We need lower expectations. Remember to breathe and laugh and know that it will work itself out eventually. We need to pick up the My Little Pony fork and call it good.

Related posts:

Let’s Be the Grace Givers

We Need to Stop Hitting Ourselves

When You’re Starting the Week Weary

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 22, 2016
Post category:faith grace rest

When You're Starting Out the Week Weary — Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

A friend of mine texted last night to see if I had any time this week to get together.

Everything in me wanted to say yes, but the reality was that looking at my schedule this week was already making me tired.

No margin. No white space. Mostly self-imposed, but it all feels necessary (“feel” being the operative word there).

Anybody else staring down a week of “I’m not sure when I’ll sit down” or “so much for cleaning the house?” (I say that like I actually would have cleaned the house if I had time. Ha).

Maybe it’s not that your schedule is too full, but that the activities that fill it ask so much of you. You’re trying to balance home and work and relationships and goals, and it’s enough to wear down the soul.

I opened my email this morning and saw this great post about walking away the Monday blues. What encouraged me most from it was this version of Matthew 11:28-30 from The Message:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Come to Me. Get away with Me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with Me and work with me-watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with Me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

I want those unforced rhythms of grace. Too often I try too hard, doing too much, one more task, one more activity squeezed in until there’s no space left. No grace. But if it’s heavy or ill-fitting, maybe it’s not what He’s called me to do.

Whether it’s a quiet walk or 10 minutes of silence (maybe in the bathroom cause that’s the only place you can get away) or just a moment when we stop and take some deep breaths-He’s calling us to come and remember that He can show us how to walk freely and lightly in the midst of busy.

He knows how to stare down a busy week-a week full of ministry and demands and conflict-and do it with a rested heart. He can teach us how to do it too.

Get away with Him. Get His perspective, His strength, His peace, His power. Keep company with Him this week.

Related posts:

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 7, 2016
Post category:expectations peace rest

5 days in to my sabbatical and I was zen, y’all. I was so relaxed and peaceful that one night I actually chose to cook. It’s a magical place if Gina feels enough emotional margin to invest time in something she both dislikes and is average at.

My zen-like state remained throughout the next week, and I felt like I could have tackled anything.

And then I got tackled.

First, it was the teenage boy realizing the ACT was going to be harder than he thought, resulting in two days of major angst (there’s no angst like teen angst). Then it was the attempt to pack for every contingency of a month long trip for our kids, with the accompanying anxiety of “Oh my word, we’re sending our kids to the other side of the world for a month!” Add in a few extra teenagers and a giant dog for the last days leading up to departure, and friends, my zen was GONE.

I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed with myself (well, I could, but it would be a bald faced lie). Two weeks of connecting with God and my own heart, and all I found dissipated within a few days? Sabbaticals are a wonderful, beautiful gift, but surely there’s a way to maintain the kind of peace I touched in that time beyond them, right?

The fact is, we can’t always take the time away from our schedules to be restored. And when we do, we want to be able to carry that spirit into our regular life. It is both a time and an attitude. So how do we keep the attitude?

The next two weeks, as I settled back into my time of rest, I asked God to show me what it would take for me to keep a sabbath heart regardless of the circumstances. Here’s what I walked away with:

Respect your humanity

I’m not very good at respecting my own limits, as I’ve made clear before. But to have a sabbath heart, I have to recognize my own humanity. I can add task upon task, attempting to accomplish as much as possible, and pretty soon I’m overwhelmed. I’m learning to take moments to step away and just be, even if it’s for 5 minutes. The tasks will be there when I return, but the time away reminds me that I’m not a machine. I’m human, and humans are limited and needy. Owning that keeps me at a better pace.

Set good boundaries

It’s not just ourselves pushing the pace, but often the needs and demands from the people around us. It was a strange feeling to field requests for help during my sabbatical – everything in me wanted to say “yes” to them, but the buffer of sabbatical gave me a nice pass to say “no” (and I appreciate that everyone respected that). Without the excuse of something like sabbatical, it is easy to respond to needs without considering whether we have the resources to respond well. So I’m trying to stop for a moment before committing myself – not because I don’t care, but because I want to be able to care more in the long haul.

Do what truly feeds you

It’s easy to want to get away from our responsibilities for a time, so we take easy routes like Facebook, television, getting lost on the internet. But there is a difference between escape and restoration. This sabbatical reminded me what truly feeds my soul, and it’s activities like worship, silence, scripture. Nothing wrong with those other things in moderation, but when I need a break and my time is limited, I know I’m better off grabbing something in that window that’s really nourishing.

Keep a short emotional account with yourself

You know the scene in The Incredibles, where Mr. Incredible is being shot by big black balls? They stick to him and slowly expand. At first, he ignores them and tries to keep running, but eventually they engulf him. This is how I tend to deal with emotion. Feelings take time to process, and they won’t go away on their own. Having a sabbath heart requires me to keep a short emotional account with myself so I don’t end up carrying anxiety, anger, or other emotions that can pull me down. I’m learning to stop and bring my emotions to God more quickly so that I can exchange them for peace.

Stay close to the well

A few years ago I wrote a post for my friend Judy’s blog about staying close to the well. I reflected on how God has an abundance to offer me, but I’m not always inclined to go for what I need. Our souls are like gardens that need tending, and in times of trial and stress, we dry out more quickly. It’s easy to keep pressing on, thinking, “I’ll rest someday” which is ridiculous when you think about it – like living a few steps from a well and dying of thirst. Yes, it takes time to go to the well, but it has what we need. When I’m busier, sometimes I literally have to write in my schedule time with God or it will get sucked up by more pressing issues.

So these are the lessons I’m trying remember and practice as I’m back in the real world. I can’t say I wouldn’t have loved living in that sabbath place all the time, but hopefully until the next time this will help me keep a restful attitude.

Get Quiet Enough to Listen

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 19, 2015
Post category:dependence on God faith peace rest

Years ago, a speaker named Dave shared a story that stuck with me. He and his friend, Pete, worked for a logging company, the details of which are fuzzy to me, but it involved getting logs into a stream. On occasion, for fun, they rode the logs down the stream for a bit. One beautiful lazy day, they lingered on the logs a bit too long and realized they were in rough waters. So rough, in fact, they weren’t confident they could get to shore. Dave asked Pete what he was going to do. Pete, having been a swimmer in college, decided to try for shore. Dave saw that, even with his skill, it was a struggle. He thought, “What am I going to do? I can’t swim that well!” Meanwhile, the water became faster and more turbulent.

Pete ran along shore, encouraging Dave to try to swim. Seeing the danger ahead, Dave made a break for it and paddled as hard as he could for shore. Despite swimming frantically, he got nowhere. Pete ran alongside, shouting at him, though the words were lost in the sounds of frenetic splashing and raging water.

Finally, Dave decided to give up. He could see the rapids ahead. He was a goner. Why fight it? So he went limp. At that moment, he finally heard Pete’s voice. Pete was shouting, “Stand up, Dave! Stand up!”

So Dave stood up and walked to shore.

Whenever I recall this story, I see myself. I see how I frantically try to work to get life in order, to get to solid ground, when all the while it is right there underneath me, if I would only rest in it. God, for some reason, chooses to speak to us in what Elijah experienced as the “gentle whisper.” We can’t hear it when we are scrambling on our own.

This past month, everywhere I look I am reminded that I am someone who tries to overcome the uncertainties of life by grabbing them by the horns and wrestling them to the ground with all my strength. I fight to keep control over situations that are so beyond me, (the spiritual lives of our children, for example) as though if I just try harder I can conquer them. The result is a tense, overworked, overwhelmed soul who fails at being God.

It’s time I went limp.

Anne Lamott says it well, “It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend keeping things running right is not what keeps things running right.”

God calls us to resign as God, because we are not good at it. He calls us to let go of our frantic ways and trust. Trust that He is our solid rock, our peace, our salvation, our guide. He will keep things running right. We just need to get quiet enough to hear Him.

“In quietness and trust is your strength.” Isaiah 30:15

Learning to Respect My Limits

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 9, 2015
Post category:dependence on God identity rest

Learning to Respect My Limits

Limits. I hate them. I push them. I want to believe I am a superwoman who has no limits. And then every once in awhile (more frequently in recent years) God pulls me aside and reminds me that I do in fact have limits, and that they are good. I should respect them.

I sat down to write about this recently, and realized I already had about a year ago, on my friend Dayle’s blog (see what I mean about God reminding me over and over?). So here is what He continues to teach me:

Our dog Scout begins her daily exercise like her tail’s on fire. We’ve resorted to biking her – walking is just not her pace. Still, she runs so fast out of the gate that she can pull us. I watch her and think, “That can’t be comfortable. She’s choking herself.” Yet many times, toward the end of the ride, I am the one having to urge her along. I can only bike so slowly before falling over, after all. If only she had paced herself.

I’m just like her though. I am not a respecter of my own limits. Physical, mental, emotional – I push them all. I have a lot of passion and ambition, and those are good things, except when they lead me to strain at the leash and pull in directions God isn’t leading me. And the natural consequence? I run out of steam.

If only Scout knew that I know how far we are going every day. Then she might trust my pace. If we’re taking the short route, it’s fine for her to run faster, but we’re usually taking the long back road and it’s not for sprinting.

If only I would trust that God knows where He’s taking me. He knows how far we’re going. He knows the limits He has given me and wants me to live within them. He knows that if only I kept His pace the journey would be so much more pleasant for both of us. If only I would take the time each day to listen to what He has for me, and agree that it is good, and it is enough, and that the tasks that won’t get done will be the path for another day.

Galatians 5:25 says, “Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” I need Him to show me step by step, moment by moment where the boundaries are for me, and I need to walk humbly and obediently in them, trusting that the good shepherd knows me and knows my way.

What about you. Are you keeping pace with Him?

The Soul Needs Comfy Pants

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 18, 2015
Post category:grace peace rest word of the year

I’m sitting in front of a fire at a ski resort in Vermont, wearing a giant scarf, an oversized sweater, two pairs of socks, and my favorite Lucky Brand jeans. They’re my go to pants, the ones I’d wear every day if it were socially acceptable.

It’s these or my yoga pants that I look to for days when I just want to be comfortable. We all need comfy pants – the ones we slip on when we just want to relax, let it all hang out, be ourselves.

Our souls need comfy pants.

Last week I spent time working with a group of five other coaches, all of us involved in a week-long intensive leadership coaching program. It was emotional work, rewarding but draining. The best part of it for me was being with people who know the real me and welcome it. In short, my soul was comfortable.

Sometimes it’s people like that, or like our new small group with three other couples. There, we all show up with our doubts and questions and struggles and we wrestle together about issues of faith, and everyone’s ok with whatever is brought. Or it’s the friends who sit down with me and look me in the eye and ask, “How are you?” and really mean it, and my soul breathes a deep sigh.

Or it’s the long walk in the woods with my dog, or the book of quotes I have that remind me who I truly am, or the new playlist on my phone filled with songs that restore me. These are places where my soul finds comfort.

In a world that so often raises the bar too high, then judges us for failing it, we need comfy pants for our souls. We need to be able to relax, breathe, let down our barriers, settle into who we really are and be received. We need a place to curl up by a fire away from the bitter cold. We need comfort.

Where does your soul find comfort?

The Soul Needs Space

The Soul Needs Space

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 22, 2015
Post category:rest

Our Souls Need Space — Photo by Elaine Casap on Unsplash

I knew a girl in high school with a fish tank shaped like a giant bubble gum machine. It had the added feature of bubbles which rose from the bottom. She was not in the habit of cleaning the tank, so over time, the water grew murkier and murkier.

As it did, her fish started to do an amazing trick – it could do flips! This entertained her until the water became so dark she couldn’t see him, so she unplugged the tank in order to clean it. When she did, the fish floated to the surface.

He hadn’t been doing tricks – his dead body had been hitting air bubbles.

Sometimes my soul feels like that fish.

In my quest to keep my soul well, I am aware of the days when it has no space. I surround my soul in activity and noise. I do too much. When I finally take a moment to rest, I gravitate toward a screen – Facebook, TV, something to occupy me. Sometimes I do the screens while I’m doing other things (multi-tasking at its ~~best!~~ worst!). For a time, it’s ok. I can keep swimming. But if I live too often like that, the constant movement drowns my soul.

Our souls need space.

Space in the form of silence, solitude, rest. An expanse in which to breathe and stretch and feel.

I know why I avoid it. Sometimes I don’t want to hear what my soul is saying. It feels empty. I find dissatisfaction, loneliness, confusion, or grief. But the soul needs to be seen. How can I show my soul to others if I can’t even see it myself? The water is just too murky.

I have some habits I am trying to hold to in my soul keeping endeavor. Less television. Shutting down the computer. Quiet walks with no phone, no music, just me and the pup. Sitting when I could be doing. It’s hard to not move toward the distractions, to just sit in the space, but I’m finding it’s good.

Wide-open space. It’s what my soul needs.

Does your soul have space?

Gentle Whisper

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 13, 2014
Post category:rest

Last week I was on the internet going a little crazy following rabbit trails on some new writing websites I found. They were giving me ideas about how to improve my writing and expand my audience, and after awhile I realized that I had gone beyond, “Hmm . . . helpful input” to, “How do I get to be as amazing as these people?” and that, my friends, is when all wise people should close the computer and walk away.

So I did. I went up into my room, sat in my corner chair, and just took a deep breath. I sat there until my heart was rested again and I could get God’s perspective on the balance between wisely making the most of the opportunities He gives me, and trusting that what I have and who I am is where He wants me to be right now.

It reminded me of Elijah, who sought God on a mountain. He waited and listened for God.

First a powerful wind came. Then, an earthquake, and finally a fire passed by.

God wasn’t in those. God was in the gentle whisper.

We have to step away from the noise from time to time to simply be in His presence, and listen to His voice telling us what’s true.

He comes most often in silence.

I wrote a poem about this, back in my angst-filled, poetry writing days (I miss the poetry writing, but not the angst). Here it is, enjoy:

My Bit of Heaven

Not in the powerful wind,
nor the earthquake, nor the fire,
He came in the gentle whisper.

I Kings 19:11-13

My soul longs for solitude,
like a desert thirsts for water
And somewhere out there,
the solitude is calling me.

In search of it I find
Black cutout trees against an orange sky.
Snow lays unbroken, pure, white
as the peace it pours over me.

A single leaf is hurried
Scattering across the white in
reckless ignorance to the stillness it is in,
Too much like me.

I breathe in the silence
and realize I’m home.
His gift to me is a bit of heaven
filling my heart, loved poured in by the Spirit.

I only find it in the gentle whisper.

What Happens When We’re Still

Be Still and Know

First Lesson by Philip Booth

My ideal scenario

Respect your humanity

Set good boundaries

Do what truly feeds you

Keep a short emotional account with yourself

Stay close to the well

Our souls need space.

First Lesson
by Philip Booth