Encouragement grounded in Scripture
Rooted in truth. Anchored in Christ.
New reflections weekly.
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Give yourself permission
I’m a helper. An empath. A person who moves in compassion, and this only becomes more apparent in times of crisis.
I also like naps. Netflix. But I don’t like feeling helpless. I don’t know how to respond when the world says to stop moving . When before it’s all I’ve ever known to do. Move. Act. Respond.
As I’m standing in my kitchen, making phone calls. Some that go unanswered, leaving me wondering how to move. How to act. How to respond. I glance over at the Bible I have placed on my kitchen counter. Glaring at me in bold print are these words: Permission to Rest.
That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases. Mark 1:32-34
I can relate. Now, I am not Jesus. I am not driving out demons. But I have moved, acted and responded at the drop of a hat. Moving to crisis after crisis. Acting on behalf of those who couldn’t for themselves. Responding to needs, even when I had my own.
Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Mark 1:35
He gave himself permission to just stop. To rest. To not move. To not act. To not respond. to simply be in his Father’s presence.
And today…it’s OK if I do the same.
While I may feel helpless. My heart may be telling me I should do something. Maybe what I really need to do is just give myself permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to move in living room dance parties, and nature walks with the people who love me.
Permission to be silly. To perform acts of love, in small doses. A little at a time, but maybe just not right now. Not right away.
Permission to respond…but later. And know that if I don’t, well it’s OK.
Today, I give myself permission.
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Grocery lines to phone lines
“I’m going to head out now, so I can get there when they open and get on home.”
I mention this on my way out the door, to my husband, already in “telecommute” mode of this first day of our self-quarantine. Me? I was on a mission. Bleach. Birthday cards. Stamps. Come into contact with as few people as possible.
But that is hard to do when a city of people is scrambling for essentials, and non-essentials. When all are in a panic, and you think everyone around you is going downright crazy.
“Darn, I have no reason to fight you today. You don’t have water or toilet paper,” said the voice behind me.
There were 5 of us all gathered around the 2 registers that were open. Trying as much as we could to practice the “social distancing” rule of staying within 6 feet away from each other. Maybe even trying as much as we could to check out on the world around us, and then go on about our day.
A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength. Proverbs 17:22
Usually, when on a mission; cheerful I am not. I want to get in and get out. Get my stamps, or whatever, and go on about my business. I certainly don’t have time to joke about toilet paper.
But these are different times. And checking out really isn’t what God is asking us to do. He doesn’t want us to keep moving along as if others don’t exist, when they are either standing in front of us, or living around us.
He doesn’t want us to fight over toilet paper; though it makes for great grocery store line humor. Or scurrying into the Starbucks to-go station to get your latte, without even a glance at the one who fixed it.
We have forgotten the value of people and presence for far too long. Sure-being cautious is wise. I don’t recommend finding reasons to stand in grocery store lines, just to strike up conversations, and spread cheer with strangers.
I do recommend taking the time to stop, and to simply be present with someone.
Whether it is the family you are stuck in the house with. The pharmacist filling your script on the end of the phone. Or FaceTime with a far-flung friend. These are the times to make time for conversations that move from grocery lines to phone lines.
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New mercies every day
I have always been intrigued by the owl. You know, if spirit animals were a thing I believed in, then maybe the owl would be mine. Believed to be watchful, have sensitive hearing, and to be a symbol of wisdom in some cultures, these characteristics seemed to match my own watchful, discerning movements.
As a child, I was also the one who woke in the night, hiding flashlights under my covers so I could finish the last few chapters of the book I was reading. Staying up late into the night to put the finishing touches on that school project. And now, as an adult, laying…non-stop thoughts spinning around and around in my head.
Yet, I remember another story my mom used to always tell me: “We would wake up to you, just cooing and talking to yourself. You were always the first one up and ready in the morning.”
Talking. Ready for the day. Waking everyone with my voice.
The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. Lamentations 3:22-23
These days I am not always ready when the alarm rings at 4:45am. I have not always been the one who has risen before everyone else in the house begins to stir. But as time has moved along, I find myself once again up and ready, babbling and cooing in the wee hours of the morning while all is still. While I revel over his still and quiet mercies of a brand new morning, and a still small voice that can be heard in the mess.
This journey is about new mercies. It is about the mercies and graces given in the midst of the unexpected. The small treasures we hold onto and cherish when life and everything we hold dear seems to be slipping away.
And through these next unexpected weeks, I will be sharing those new mercies daily. Join me. They are there. Just waiting for us to witness, embrace, and enjoy. Even in the chaos. Even in the uncertainty. New mercies. Every day.
Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Psalm 143:8
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I quit…and it’s not what you think, I bet.
I’m quitting social media. Yep. Every single bit of it. For an indefinite amount of time.
And here’s why:
It’s a time sucker.
While I’m standing over the stove cooking dinner, I’m scrolling. While I’m waiting in traffic, I’m scrolling. While I’m waiting in the doctors office, I’m scrolling. While I’m folding laundry, I’m checking my notifications. And on the way to clean the bathroom…yep-scrolling. I bet I could get much more done if I wasn’t always scrolling.
It’s a family time sucker.
Right before I wrote this, I felt deeply convicted to actually sit downstairs with my husband and spend time with him. Talk. After a long day. I did. But I wasn’t engaged. What was I doing? Oh yes, scrolling. Checking Facebook. Instagram.
During family game nights while waiting for my turn I found myself picking up my phone, feeling convicted because I don’t do this with the littles at work, why do I feel it’s OK here?
It’s a hope sucker. I like to think sometimes that the little bit of love and kindness I sprinkle makes a difference in the midst of all that seems so dark, but kindness doesn’t go viral too often. And with the one or two uplifting posts sprinkled throughout, there are twenty more news stories of gloom and doom. While I don’t want to live under a rock, I don’t want to place my hope in anything but the Solid Rock. And He isn’t found on Facebook. He is found in the Book!
It’s sucking the life out of our generation of kids. Their childhood. Their innocence. Their desire to just go ride a bike! The exposure to people, subjects, and things beyond their tender years is astounding. I hear it daily. And I no longer want to be a part of it.
I want more time. To read. To actually clean my house and complete it. Heck, maybe I’ll finally write a book. Learn to knit. Start running again.
More time talking to my family. Laughing with my family. Playing with my family not on my phone. More time spending it with friends. Maybe invite some people over since my house will now be clean, and I won’t be scrolling during game nights!
I want to have intentional conversations. Intentional friendships. Not those that only exist because we are social media “friends.” Not conversations that include instant messages and never-ending pings on my phone. Reach me the old-fashioned way. A call or note will do.
I want to start looking for hope in the things around me, because I NEED to know it still exists here. The small, simple, joyful moments. That they are still possible. Even if they are not documented all on Facebook or with some Insta filter. I am going to seek hope from The One where hope can always be found.
And though my act of “rebellion” and “defiance” is not gonna get rid of sites like Snapchat (though I wish it would just disappear) or TikTok (poof, go away already) decide to shut down…maybe someone reading this somewhere will decide to be an example for their own kid. For someone else’s. Or decide not to hand over their cell phone with that oh-so-easy access to the World Wide Web playground.
Maybe. Just maybe. But even if not….I quit.
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Let them remember you
“These kids are not going to remember us. So just do your job, go home, and forget about what goes on here. Because when they leave, they will forget about you.”
A conversation. Said after a hopeless week. After taking home way too much junk from kids who aren’t “mine,” but some days certainly feel like it.
But…is it really me I need them to remember? Or is it Him?
If it is me, then I am not showing love, I am merely manipulating people. Acting in selfish ways to get some type of reward or applause. From people. I want people to appreciate me.
And I thought about this as I walked into a gymnasium full of people. Feeling super uncomfortable. See, I may be a preacher, and stand in front of people and speak, but the social scene is not my area of comfort. I am either too loud, or look for the emptiest corner, closet to the nearest exit.
I sat there, on the emptiest set of bleachers I could find, by the back exit, saying to myself, “No one will know I am here, and so no one will know if I leave.”
But God cared.
Let me explain. Because being there wasn’t about me. In that empty corner. On that empty stretch of bleachers sat a light. A light some don’t always see. In the gym, or outside of it.
I wasn’t here for them to see me. I was here for them to see light.
I am not getting up and doing what I do each day for me, I am doing it so others see light.
I don’t need them to remember me. To remember my name or anything I have done. I want them to see one light. Hear one voice. Know one presence when in my space.
I want them to remember one name: Jesus.
About Me
I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic. All focused on Him.
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