Blog - Page 3 of 35 - Gina Brenna Butz

Vulnerability on Display

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 5, 2019
Post category:courage identity

A common response I get after a public speaking engagement is, “I so appreciate your vulnerability when you speak.”

I don’t want to contradict them at the moment, so I don’t, but the truth is, I’m generally not vulnerable when I speak.

I’m transparent.

There’s a big difference.

For a long time, I thought I was being vulnerable by sharing personal stories, particularly stories of things I’ve struggled with, in front of others.

But I generally share in the past tense. Like, “here’s something I used to struggle with” or “let me tell you about a time I failed and how God used it.”

That’s not vulnerability. It’s transparency.

Vulnerability vs Transparency

Here’s the difference:

As my friend Iris puts it well, transparency is putting your junk in a window on display for others to see. Yes, it might be awkward, but you get to choose what they see and what they don’t.

You can choose that which has healed over, or is healing over. You can choose that which no longer evokes shame (if it ever did). What others see is completely within your control.

Vulnerability is inviting people into the back room to see what’s still tender. Back there lie the things that do trigger shame. The wounds that are still open. That which you may fear bringing into the light. Sometimes things you don’t even realize are there.

Transparency is letting people see the scars. Vulnerability is letting people close enough that they might touch the wounds. Share on X

Being transparent is good-we need people to see how we are growing, how we have grown. It invites them to do the same. When God brings us through something difficult and we share it with others, it ministers to them.

Not everyone has earned the right to come into the back room to see what is deepest in us. We aren’t meant to show all that to the world. So no, I’m not particularly vulnerable when I speak, by intention. Vulnerability is meant for safe spaces and safe people.

Choosing Vulnerability and Transparency

But that doesn’t mean we get a pass on sharing vulnerably with others. We’re all called to go beyond transparency with some people, or at least someone. We need God’s wisdom and guidance (and a good bit of courage) to know who our safe people are. And when we figure out who they are, we need to bravely invite them into those back room places.

Chances are, some of the stories that we are transparent about now were once things that felt very vulnerable. Because we shared them with safe people first, they can be brought to a place where we share them with others. Healing has happened. The more we choose vulnerability, the more we are able to be transparent about the wounds that have healed.

There’s a place for transparency. And there’s a place for vulnerability. Not everyone has earned the right to see all of us, but everyone needs to see some of it.

The Illusion of Having It All Together

Living our Calling

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 21, 2019
Post category:Uncategorized

I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me, “Oh I could never . . .” fill in the blank, usually with “live overseas” or “be in full-time ministry” or “homeschool my kids” or some other lifestyle choice we’ve made along the way.

It’s hard to know how to respond to statements like that. I used to think, “Sure you could!” But now I think, “You know what? You could, but you’re not supposed to do this. And that’s okay.”

See, I can do what I do only because this is what I’m called to do. You might be called to do something else. (Probably you are because if God called us all to the same thing, well, that would be highly inefficient).

We each have our own calling. And God gives us what we need for what we are called to do.

The Uniqueness of Our Calling

I didn’t decide to move overseas or be in full-time ministry or homeschool my kids because I thought I’d be awesome at these things and they seemed manageable and fun. (and honestly, those are usually grids I would use!) No, I had great reservations about all of them. But it was obvious to me when I chose to enter each of those situations that it was what God wanted for me. It was what He was leading me to do.

As Christians, we often espouse the view that to truly follow God, we must all live a certain way. It’s easy to feel pressure to conform to the choices we see others around us making. We judge others when they don’t make the same choices we do. We question others, we doubt ourselves.

All of that negates calling. Recently, a friend of mine was sharing about her decision to have a larger family. It wasn’t one she took lightly. It was what she felt God asked of her.

She receives more than her share of, “Oh I could never . . .” statements with regard to the number of children she has. But the truth she keeps returning to is that she knows it is how she and her husband were led. It is what God had for them.

The Broadness of God’s Calling

Calling can be a nebulous word. What do we mean by that? I used to believe that God’s calling on my life was some target I had to hit; miss it and you’re outside His will. All bets for a good life are off then.

But I believe now that God’s will is broader than that. I fully believe God designs us with specific gifts and passions meant to be used for His glory (Ephesian 2:10). That call is unique to us.

Therefore calling combats comparison. When we are sure that the choices we make are what God has for us personally, it silences the voices that say, “But other people are doing this” or “I should live like that person.”

Bring What You Have

Calling invites stewardship. Those gifts and passions He gave you? Other people don’t have them. So if you don’t show up with them, we all miss out. We all need to offer who we are and what we can do.

In Psalm 16:5-6 it reads, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Surely I have a delightful inheritance.” God assigns us our calling. Confidence in our calling brings security. It provides boundaries that say, “This is for you, and that is not. And that is good.”

What is your calling today? Who is He calling you to be? What is He calling you to do? Ask Him to show you what He has for you, listen for His leading and walk confidently in it.

Moana and the Power of Grit

Why I Don’t Teach Sunday School

Owning Our Dignity

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 7, 2019
Post category:identity

Speaking with my friend and spiritual director, Judy, I mentioned that I sometimes downplay my competency in front of others. My fear is that if people see me living at my full and generally high capacity, they’ll think I’m, well, a little “extra.”

“Gina, your competency is a gift. Your 3ness is a gift.”

For those of you wondering why she called me a number, she was referring to the fact that I identify as an Enneagram type 3, otherwise known as The Performer or The Achiever.

(Side note: If you want to be my instant friend, talk to me about the Enneagram. Unless, of course, you start with something like, “I think the Enneagram is a crock!” in which case I will probably always side-eye you).

In my desire to be self-aware (in which the Enneagram has been incredibly helpful) I have been more conscious of the negative side of being wired the way I am than the positive. I recognize my inclination toward image management, competitiveness, and workaholism. I’ve become conscious of when I’m “turning it on” to impress others.

Whenever we engage in a journey of self-awareness and begin to see the darker side of our strengths, it can be discouraging. It’s sobering to see how we fail to love and live well. It often leads to contempt and disappointment with ourselves.

But what Judy said to me jolted me back to the reality that we are much more than our depravity. We also carry dignity. God has given us strengths that bring Him glory when we use them.

We are meant to live that to the fullest.

Owning Our Dignity

So there’s a capacity in me, in my competency, that is a gift from God. On my own, I may use that capacity to cultivate a successful image for my own glory. But when I allow Him to fill me and use me, that capacity can accomplish a lot for His kingdom. Holding back on that is holding back on what He made me for.

The same goes for each of us. There’s something in each of us that is God-given and good. When refined by His Spirit, it is a gift to the world.

You don’t need to know your number on the Enneagram to know that you are created in His image. And you don’t need to identify some type to recognize the gifts He has given you. On your own, yes, you might use them for your own purposes. But how might He take them and use them for good?

As kids, we sang, “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.” Part of that light is the imago dei we bear. It’s His Spirit living in us as He promised. Our gifts and strengths shine a light, pointing the way to God.

So let’s own our dignity as well as our depravity. The latter leads us to repentance and redemption. The former glorifies God.

Related posts:

Redefining Success

Leaving Our Kingdoms Behind

Why I Love the Enneagram

Struggling with Silence

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 24, 2019
Post category:Uncategorized

I still remember the door shutting behind our two kids as they walked out the door for the first day of their senior and sophomore years of high school. With the new-found freedom of being able to drive themselves, it was the first time I didn’t have to accompany them.

The sudden silence overwhelmed me.

Rather than feeling my own freedom, I felt empty. Tempted to fill the space with activity, instead, I felt compelled to sit and acknowledge it for a moment. I turned it over, questioning where it came from and why. What did it say about my soul?

It wasn’t a comfortable moment.

It was another tug at my soul from God, a whisper from a place of quietness I have always been loath to enter. Productivity, input, engagement-this is where I feel at home.

God Calling Me to Silence

Since then, through various means, including books like You Are What You Love and Liturgy of the Ordinary, God keeps calling me to order my life so that the lonely places are not something to avoid, but something to practice. God keeps calling me to order my life so that the lonely places are not something to avoid, but something to practice. Share on X

I have the best intentions. I believe what people say about the importance of silence, making space for my soul to speak, and space for the Spirit to respond.

So I began carving out that space: ten minutes of silence to start my time with God in the morning. Then fifteen. Even sometimes twenty. Turning off the radio during a drive. Choosing not to pull up a podcast on a long walk with my dog.

I love what I find there, I do.

Creating space for silence lets my soul breathe. All the anxiety that hides in corners of my soul, weighing it down, comes crawling out into the open. There’s relief in offering it to Someone far more capable than I. Thoughts crystallize. I become conscious of what holds my heart. My soul gets quiet enough to listen to God.

My Struggle with Silence

But just as quickly, I let the noise creep back in. It’s easier. I fill a boring moment with a new TV show episode, and suddenly I’m hooked. Someone mentions a new podcast and I pick it up. It’s more fun to cook with something occupying my mind. Soon enough, distractions take over once again.

It’s tempting to be discouraged, to give up.

Perhaps I am simply too hard-wired for activity, I think.

It helps to remember that there is a war for my soul, and the enemy loves using noise and distraction in the fight. This isn’t merely a matter of discipline, but of the kingdom, for which I am ill-equipped to fight on my own. I need God’s help.

So I keep listening for His whispers, calling me back. I know He holds no contempt for me when I finally turn down the sounds of my life and get quiet again. He is patient. He is waiting.

Making Peace with Silence

Places of solitude and silence can overwhelm. But maybe they’re supposed to. In those places, we touch our humanity. We feel how small and helpless we really are to control our space. But we also touch His divinity. We’re invited into His presence.

Sometimes, the silence feels like nothing. My thoughts are scrambled, and it hardly feels worth it. But I believe it is. I trust that something is settling in me-a deeper capacity to be conscious of His presence in a way that seeps into every moment of my life. Hopefully, it’s creating a solid place in me where my false self gets stripped away and I am just His. I have faith that it is.

So I will keep struggling to make peace with silence. As uncomfortable as it may be, as much as I don’t enjoy the flood of thoughts that come knocking when I get quiet, I know there is life there.

And I know that God is on our side in this. He longs to meet us in what feels like empty space, so He can fill us with Himself.

To Truly Be Still

Learning to Walk (at an Unhurried Pace)

His Perfect Timing

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 10, 2019
Post category:transition

God's Perfect Timing — photo by Ales Krivec

When I learned I was pregnant with our son, it did not feel like the most opportune time to have a child.

We were at the first weekend of our training to live cross-culturally. That fall, we were going to move overseas and lead a team of missionaries. I had language learning and cultural adjustment and leadership to do. A baby did not fit into the plan.

But the thought occurred to me one day, “What if this kid needs to come into the world at this time instead of when I had planned? And because of that, someday, he’s going to be in just the right place at just the right time to do something God wants him to do?”

Fast forward 19 years, and I look at my son, who in high school ran for president of his student government with the kid who ended up being just 3 months older than him, the one he grew up with. I think of the people our son knows, whom he has impacted, and I know this: God’s timing is perfect.

This concern about timing doesn’t just crop up in my circumstances. It permeates deeper, to the core of my walk with Him.

Recently, I spoke with a group of women I gather with regularly for some good old deep-end-of-the-ocean soul-baring. When we share, it’s inevitable one of us sighs with the realization, “I thought I’d learned this already.”

You know what I’m talking about. It’s that realization, “hey, this lesson seems familiar.” I thought I was past this. But no, here we are again. Or maybe worse: how am I just now figuring this out?

It’s tempting to get down on ourselves, to wonder why it’s taken us so long to learn something, or to realize what we thought we’d learned didn’t sink in deep enough. But I am learning this: we’re right on time.

“You’re right on time.”

It’s a phrase a friend of mine uses to encourage me when I wonder why I’m just now getting this or learning some lesson all over again.

This phrase invites grace. It invites us to trust in God’s patience, His wisdom, His ways, rather than our own. If God had wanted me here sooner, He would have brought me here sooner.

He says it to remind me that God knows the path of growth he has for me, and his timing is impeccable.

This is when God chose to bring me to this lesson. Or back to this lesson. Again. He doesn’t condemn. He doesn’t wonder why we didn’t get it sooner. There is a time for everything.

God’s timing is not ours.

Because who knows that you haven’t come to this moment for such a time as this? Who knows that you didn’t learn this lesson now for a specific reason?

Who says there’s a timeline we have to follow? If we really believe God numbers our days and knows the plans he has for us, we have to trust that we are where we are because it’s the timing he has for us.

Whether it’s our circumstances or our growth, God knows what He’s doing with us. From our minutes to our years, He is at work.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”

This Is Assigned

On Waiting Well

Called to Do Today (And Just Today)

God Owes Us Nothing

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 26, 2019
Post category:dependence on God

This summer, I almost threw a Tim Keller book out the window of our car.

That’s not normally how I respond to Keller-we’re generally on the same page. But his book, Walking with God Through Pain and Suffering, kicked me with a simple conviction, “God owes you nothing.”

Earlier this spring, God had me in a wilderness of ill health. I learned a lot there, so much so that when my symptoms went away for a brief time, I was a little disappointed. I didn’t want to lose the intimacy I had with God.

But then, the symptoms came back. And left. And came back.

I have to say, I didn’t respond well.

While I had come to a point where I could even thank God for the wilderness initially, being led back in again struck a nerve in me. I couldn’t find my way back to the contentedness I had claimed. I went from, “I have stilled and quieted my soul” to “forget this, I’m out.”

What We Think God Owes Us

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe God could use this in my life. I just couldn’t see the point of it anymore. I wasn’t hearing His voice speak comfort or encouragement to me like before. Or maybe I just grew weary of trying to listen for it.

In essence, I held my hand up to God in an act of defiance: I do not want this suffering.

And to be honest? My resistance rested on a simple idea: I don’t think this is a good thing for me. Follow that thread and you’ll see it’s based on a lie that I know what is best for me, and this ain’t it.

We might be OK with suffering for a time, but when it wears on our souls, it’s easy to believe: God owes me better than this.We might be OK with suffering for a time, but when it wears on our souls, it's easy to believe: God owes me better than this. Share on X

We are so quick to claim, “All things work for the good of those who love Him” but we have such a narrow, shallow view of what that good entails.

And it leads us to think that He owes us. If He claims to always do good for us, then we think good should include our health. And while we’re at it, our jobs, our marriages, our kids, our general happiness. Doesn’t suffering mean God is lying down on the job of giving me a good life?

But what Keller pointed out in his book is that God has already done more than enough. The breath in our lungs is because God breathed it. Life itself is an unmerited gift, in whatever form.

And so much more than that: He gave everything by giving us Jesus-the ultimate gift we did not deserve or earn and can never repay. Do we really have the right to ask anything of Him?

Why not us?

Recently there was an incredible interview between Anderson Cooper and Stephen Colbert, the latter being a man of some measure of faith. Anderson Cooper referenced a comment Stephen had made, “All punishment is a gift from God.”

Through tears, and perhaps some doubt, Anderson asked, “Do you really believe that?”

Stephen’s response essentially was ‘yes.’ He said that “all life is a gift we don’t deserve.” And suffering is part of that life. It’s all a gift from God.

They went on together to agree that while it’s tempting to ask, “Why me?” maybe the better question is, “Why not me?”

I confess I was humbled by their words. They keep turning over in my heart.

Why should I be exempt? Why should you? Is there a reason God owes us more than the next person? Do we deserve a “better” life because we follow Him?

He has already given us life. The fact that we breathe air every day is an undeserved gift of grace.

But more than that, He has given us salvation. He has given us His Spirit. We did not earn or deserve that in any way. It is grace upon grace.

He owes us nothing, yet He is always giving us what we need, if we let go of our idea of what that looks like.

So instead of holding my hand up in defiance, I ask Him to help me hold it out to receive.

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

What to Do When It’s Hard

How “At Least . . .” Keeps Us From Reality

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 22, 2019
Post category:emotions relationships Uncategorized

A few weeks ago, I lamented a reality in my life. I would tell you what this reality was, but I honestly don’t remember. All I know is that my husband didn’t respond the way I hoped.

His response was, “Well, at least (this other thing) isn’t happening to you.” (Again, what was the other thing? I don’t know. But it didn’t help me).

And we both laughed.

Because we know by now that, as Brené Brown says, “At least . . . ” is rarely the beginning of an empathetic response. It’s a way to minimize or distract ourselves (or others) from the reality of what we’re facing.

Over the next few days, we both experienced more challenges that led us, either jokingly or absent-mindedly, to respond to one another with, “Well, at least . . .”

Each time, we caught ourselves. We saw how easy it is to evade our own or someone else’s pain by this kind of comparison.

Call it “putting things in perspective” or “choosing not to complain,” but really what we’re doing is dismissing our hearts, refusing to acknowledge reality.

In some ways, it’s a decent strategy. At times, it has protected us from being engulfed by sorrow. But if we know God, then we know there’s an opportunity here.

The opportunity is to invite Him to meet us in what is true. A prayer I learned recently from Ruth Haley Barton’s readings is, “Lord, humble me in the presence of reality.”

In other words, help me sit in this situation. Help me not to excuse or dismiss or pretend that things are better than they are.

Because I believe that You are greater than this. You can redeem. You can heal. This is not beyond you, therefore I can face it.

When we sit with God in our own reality, we increase our capacity to sit with others in theirs.

And when we refrain from our “at least . . .” responses with them, we leave space for them to do this same practice with God for themselves. Otherwise, our actions not only keep us from having to feel their pain, they actually keep them from meeting God in it.

So may we catch ourselves when we are tempted to compare suffering. If our sentences begin with “at least” may we pause.

Instead, let’s meet God in reality.

When Weeping Is Prayer

The Challenge to Rejoice and Weep with Others

What Is Anger’s Real Name?

Learning to Relinquish Control

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 8, 2019
Post category:dependence on God

During the 48 hours at our spiritual retreat this June, we were meant to disconnect completely from technology. But I was headed out to walk one morning, and I wanted to check the weather.

No matter that I’d checked it prior to arriving. What if it changed? What if the afternoon rain suddenly came in the morning? I didn’t want to be caught off guard.

In other words, I didn’t want to be out of control.

The Subtle Ways We Control

There was a time, not long ago, when I wouldn’t have been able to check the weather before going outside. What would I have done then? Maybe get caught in the rain. Maybe have been underdressed. Or overdressed.

But now all that’s over. That little weather app on my phone gives me a small measure of control over my life I didn’t have before. I can avoid looking foolish or being uncomfortable. Thanks, weather app!

Throughout those 48 hours of retreat, I saw more and more how control plays out in subtle ways in my life.

When I couldn’t look up a quote or person someone mentioned, I hated that I couldn’t control my ignorance.

If a book title I’d like to buy came up, I couldn’t exercise the agency to buy it on my time.

When our group was invited to sit in silence after sharing, I couldn’t manage their image of me by responding in an empathetic way.

That I like to control life is not a surprise to me. Remember the Little Miss books? I used to joke that mine would be called “Little Miss Control Freak.”

Starting to Let Go of Control

But God’s been working on me. Slowly prying my fingers off areas of my life, inviting me to relinquish my grip and let Him be God. Reminding me that I don’t really control what I think I do. As Anne Lamott says,

“It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what’s keeping things running right.” Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

So waking up to this still pervasive itch to control was a bit disappointing. Haven’t I grown out of this by now? But as I’ve said before, we’re all recovering from something.

And this: this felt a bit like God just found my secret stash of control in a back cupboard.

But in true God fashion, He opened that cupboard on the retreat with kindness and compassion, gentleness and patience. He opened it because He wants me to be free. That’s always why He shows us our sin. His kindness leads to repentance.

The desire to control is often what fuels anxious thoughts. Perhaps something in us realizes that as much as we would like to be the ones in charge, we know we aren’t. The distance between desire and reality is bound to cause fear.

The Freedom in Surrender

That is unless we surrender. Raise the white flag. Admit that despite our best efforts, we are not enough.

Surrender means a willingness to be caught in moments of foolishness. Ignorance. Discomfort.

But it also means freedom.

We’re freed from being the rulers of our little kingdoms, which, as I’ve said before, we’re terrible at. There’s something in surrender that allows us to breathe again and relinquish the burden of holding things together. We’re free to trust in the God who is capable.

And I’m finding that’s the key to surrender: resting in the fact that while I am wildly out of control of the world, God is not. We can rest in His wisdom, His power, and His love. In other words: God knows what is best for us, He can do what is best for us, and He always wants what is best for us.

The more we sit in those truths, the more our fingers relax. Our grip opens and whatever we hold so tightly to-our reputations, our security, our agency over life-can be released into His care. If we can’t believe in His ability to care for us, we will never open our hands.

The word “surrender” has become a breath prayer, one I say on my exhale when I sit in silence and all the cares of the world come flooding at me. When the temptation is to grab each one and do what I in my small power can do, He reminds me to keep my hands open, palms up, to both give and receive.

What We Don’t Have to Carry

I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I Do)

The Fight Belongs to Him

Are You Childlike?

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 25, 2019
Post category:dependence on God identity

I am not, by nature, childlike.

Responsible. Trustworthy. Mature. Those were the words more often spoken over me as a child. Even as a child, I was not very childlike.

“Childlike” used to equate with “childish,” in my mind. In other words, foolish, flighty, immature. Aren’t we supposed to grow up and be done with childish things?

Childish, yes. But childlike, never.

What Are Children Like?

Lately, I’ve taken to volunteering in the nursery through pre-school rooms at church. Aside from the occasional hilarious soundbite (one kid, when I commented on his excellent coloring skills, replied, “Thanks. I’ve been coloring for about a year now”), they help me remember what children are like.

Kids are full of wonder. Delight. Joy. Boundless energy. Everything is new and therefore interesting. They are poor in spirit, dependent, needy. And those needs pour out freely, sometimes overwhelmingly. They cry and laugh without editing. Certainly, they trust.

But maybe most baffling to me is how time slows with children. And how one simple act-swinging in a swing or throwing a ball-they can repeat again and again. It reminds me of this quote from Chesterton:

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.

“But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon.

“It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
– G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

So what does it look like for us, as adults, to be childlike?

What It’s Like to Be Childlike

Maybe it starts with wonder. May God give us eyes to see the glory all around us-the blessings He gives us in every small moment. That kind of wonder leads to grateful hearts who recognize the goodness of our Father.

To be childlike is to be poor in spirit, accepting of our poverty, and willing to live from it. That is to say, we are honest about and unashamed of our weakness and need. That leads us to live each moment in dependence on God and others.

Children know they don’t have it all together. They know they’re still learning. That knowledge doesn’t lead to condemnation but to openness. To be childlike, we live teachable. No matter how far we’ve come, we believe there’s more to learn, and are open to how we might learn it.

And woven through all that there is grace. Because kids don’t beat themselves up for their humble position, and neither should we. Instead, may it leads us to trust others to carry us when we reach the end of ourselves. And may kindness and compassion mark how we respond to our souls.

The Childlikeness of God

Being childlike is, in some way, to be like our Father, because He too is full of wonder, delight, joy. His creation invites us to play and discover. Jesus humbled himself in the greatest way in order for us to have life. He chose poverty for our sakes. Moreover, He lived grace, kindness, and compassion. Growing old in our souls moves us away from His heart.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

The kingdom belongs to those who embrace their position as children before God. Those who humbly acknowledge their need and let it lead them to trust and dependence. Those who live loved by the Father. At His feet may we be filled with wonder and awe.

How to Avoid Being Poor in Spirit

Open the Door to Others

Ask God for the Pony

Packing Our Fragile Lives

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 11, 2019
Post category:Uncategorized

I’m no stranger to packing up and moving homes, so you’d think I would be pretty good at it by now.

Unfortunately, I have a strong streak of impatience and a high commitment to efficiency, so I tend to pack carelessly. This is particularly true in the kitchen because so much is fragile and requires extra work.

I remember packing a box of glasses once to give away. I debated the merits of squeezing them all into one box over padding them well enough that they wouldn’t break in transit (especially because I couldn’t find another box and was too lazy to keep looking. Also, I value efficiency over accuracy).

This is how we can fill our schedules.

When I look at my calendar and see wide open spaces, my instinct is to fill them.

It’s like Pac-Man, trying to level up by gobbling empty slots.

The problem is when I add something new, I don’t always think about the padding it needs to not bump up against other activities.

Here’s an example: Someone asked me once to take on a role that on paper is a 3-hour activity once a month. I thought, “That’s totally doable!” (this is generally my reaction to any prospect).

When I talked it over with a wise friend, though, he pointed out that it wasn’t just 3 hours. Taking on that time meant 6-8 new relationships with people I want to invest in knowing well.

It meant praying for them, probably meeting individually, social activities together, being available to them. When I thought about the amount of space it would really take in my box, I knew it wasn’t going to fit.

It’s not just about the activities we do, but all the bubble wrap time that will go into making that activity succeed. It includes all the prayer, preparation, thinking, and meeting that might surround it.

Most importantly, we have to consider the relational and emotional energy expended on top of the actual time invested. I don’t know about you, but I don’t often have an excess of that kind of energy laying around.

I’ve experienced the side effects of over packing. Things break.

I break.

Bubble Wrapping Our Lives

So I’m trying these days to bubble wrap my activities. Leave space around them to actually think about them.

Space to be fully present in what I choose, to let them bleed a bit outside the lines of the time I allotted for them.

It’s not easy. My ego gets in the way, wanting to prove myself through the busyness of my calendar.

My heart gets in the way too-I want to help. I love saying yes. But if it’s going to cause me to overwork, it’s not my best yes. It’s not the best yes for anyone.

So we need helping packing. Sometimes we need to run it by a friend, as I mentioned earlier, someone with no skin in the game, who can call us out when our hearts and egos run faster than our souls.

And of course, we need God. He knows how fragile we are; He knows He made us from dust. His wisdom will guide us if we’re willing to listen as we pack.

Learning to Respect My Limits

Choosing Slow

Finding Balance in the Seasons

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