Monthly Archives: May 2014

For when your heart breaks

I tossed my cell phone on the bed and watched it bounce to the floor of my bedroom. It hadn’t rung or beeped or buzzed in hours, and I was frustrated with watching it.

I was 20 and the guy I had been dating hadn’t called me in a few days. I had been pacing the room and analyzing our last conversation with my roommates. I had waited and waited and finally, I vowed to let him go and move on. Then one Sunday afternoon, I tagged along with my roommate to the bookstore, and my phone buzzed and blinked.

My heart stopped, and I showed the message to my roommate.

Read the rest over at HeartSupport.

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Keeping Sunday a Sabbath

I love a sweet Sunday afternoon nap. I love the warm sheets in a cool room and the rumble of a storm echoing at my window. It’s wonderfully lazy and beautifully quiet.

But sometimes, Sunday is chaotic. Sometimes I have to run to the grocery store for a dessert to bring to the church potluck. Sometimes I get emails from my boss. Sometimes the garage door sticks. Sometimes we run out of dog food. Sometimes, it’s not a sleepy or lazy afternoon at all. Some weeks, my Sundays aren’t Sabbaths. They’re stressful.

Those Sundays don’t look like what I think a Sabbath should look like— one that’s restful, peaceful and quiet. You’ve heard it before— that we’re overloaded in a fast-paced world running on caffeine fumes and we need to slow down, but I don’t want to just slow down. I want to stop, to breathe, to rest.

Slowing down isn’t enough. I have to remind myself to not just slow down on Sunday. I need to stop. I need to remember the Sabbath because I’ve forgotten about it, and so here at my dirty kitchen table, with a wet dog at my feet and laundry to do and a book to write and a full week ahead, I’m resting in him, “for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from his own work,” Hebrews Chapter 4 says.

I’ve made Sundays about my recovery, my reward, my relief for the week, and I’ve still been so tired. I have still been so exhausted. I’ve still been so frustrated, and so I’m exchanging my idea of Sunday and entering God’s rest. I’m not hiding in God’s rest or fighting for God’s rest. I’m entering it.

Joyfully. Hopelessly. Wearily.

Sabbath quiets my soul, which has spent most of the week crying out for perfection. I will never be the wife or writer or woman I think I should be, and God’s rest reminds me that my very best is fulfilled in Christ. I can rest. I can stop and breathe and know that his grace is perfect.

I’m remembering the glory and grace of the Sabbath again. I’m picking up at the place where I forgot it, and even if my Sundays don’t look like the traditional Sabbaths all the time, even when it’s chaotic, my prayer is that I rest in God’s peace through it all.

Because I worry a lot that I’m not hustling enough in my writing and so I dream up amazing plans and set deadlines and goals. I have the best ideas and plans for my week and the greatest motivation to power through the days ahead, but Sunday, I’m giving it up.

I’m giving it up and entering God’s rest. I’ve long used Sunday as a day to thumb through my to-do lists and schedule my calendar, but I’ve forgotten the greatness and holiness of the day.

I’m remembering it again.

I’m keeping the Sabbath by giving up my plans. I’m resting in the promise that my week will be so much more than I could have imagined and so much sweeter than I had planned.

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NOTE: I’m linking up at The High Calling today.

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Why I quit chasing a reckless lover

I quit my job today.

I’m a freelance writer, so the correct thing to say is I quit one of my jobs, but it was my biggest contract, and today, I let it go.

I didn’t want to at first because the money was good, but mostly, I didn’t want to because I’d have to face a tough reality that I’m not the great journalist or editor I thought I’d be by now. In fact, I’m not even close, and I knew that if I let that job go, I’d be cutting ties with my dream career even more.

Read the rest over at HeartSupport.

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