The Glory of Simple

“Do few things, but do them well. Simple joys are Holy.”
-St Francis of Assisi

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I’m beginning to see the glory of simple. The beauty of small gestures and whispered encouragement. The behind-the-scenes instead of center stage. To love without a microphone, to love without recognition. To do the simple acts of each season without looking to the next.

I become too emerged in the spotlight. I look over to see if I am being noticed, if I can become seen. I glance across to the girl who has an adoring audience and I become angry and jealous. I want applause and compliments, and published works. I want more than I have, more than I am called to right now.

Do trees or vines or plants produce fruit every season? No. There is a time for production, a time for harvest, and a time for rest. I will not always be producing the amount of fruit I believe I need to be.

What will happen if I begin to listen to the Lord and say,
“What you have given is enough?” What If I can believe in daily bread instead of planning to stock my food pantry for month?

This season I am in is about being faithful in the simple things he is asking of me right now. He is asking me to write what I see and am inspired by and not worry about who will or will not read it. He is asking me to continue showing hospitality to anyone who enters my home and to love my husband. Nothing more, nothing less. However, my over achieving tendencies continue to burst into overdrive.
“God, I can do more. I can always do more! See me?”

I need to learn how to rest in simple acts of holiness, embrace the season of behind-the-scenes love, obey what I have been given, and love God through these things instead of striving to achieve recognition.

I continue to feel the Lord say, “Look at me. Just at me. Don’t look anywhere else.” This is what I imagine Jesus saying to Peter as he began to walk on water in Matthew. He begins by looking only at Jesus, but as soon as he looks away he falls. Every time I look away from Jesus, I start to see the people around me and compare what they are doing to what I am doing. That is when I fall. Although I fall, He always picks me up.
“Oh you of little faith! Don’t you trust the love I have for you?”

When I look away I feel the overwhelming tidal wave of earning, striving and making my own way, but when I look at him, oh when I look at him, I remember. I remember who He is. I remember his voice, the way he takes care of me, and the way he calls me worthy, important, enough.

Simple joys are holy. I want to embrace the simple and embrace the holy. To do only what he is asking of me right now in this season, and not worry about what’s coming or what was. I want to find joy in the life of daily bread desiring to be full on this day alone.

No more striving, comparing or coveting someone else’s season. This season is mine, I am His and nothing can replace the things he is giving me right now.

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I’m going to stop telling myself “I’m enough”.

“After this Jesus went away to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. And a large crowd was following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick.  Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples. Now the Passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand.  Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?”  He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do.  Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread would not be enough for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number.  Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!”
John 6:1-14

 

I’m constantly preaching to myself, and making sure I believe that I truly am enough. I am enough for my husband and for the ministry I’m in. I’m enough for my friends and for my family. Who I am is enough.

I’m starting to question that.  I’m wondering if allowing myself to believe who I am enough is not causing me more stress and anxiety.

If I am enough than I could do all the things I’m supposed to do.  I could fulfill all of my husband’s wants and needs. He would never need to do anything else because I am enough.
If I am enough my family would understand my love for them and know that I am always there for them even when I’m far away, because I am enough.
If I am enough than I would always know that my body is beautiful and I would never believe lies about myself, because I am enough.
If I am enough than I would always feel competent at my job and know that I’m making an impact because I am enough.

All of those things leave me dry because I’m trying so hard to be “enough.” I’m trying to live up to expectations that are unrealistic.

When Jesus feeds the five thousand they have five loaves of bread and two fish.  What does he do? He says “give me what you have”.  After everyone eats, all five thousand of them, they have leftovers.  They have more than enough, they are overflowing.

I am starting to realize that I was never meant to be enough.  Jesus is asking me to give him what I have and he will do the rest.  He is the one that is enough, not me. I can be the person Jesus has called me to be, but, it will never be able to fill the people around me because that is not my job.  My husband is supposed to fill himself by going to the Lord, my family is supposed to rely on the knowledge of Christ to get them through the day, my friends are supposed to trust the heavenly power of Jesus to bring them to redemption.  I am not the savior of the world, Jesus is.  I can work my hardest at my job, but at the end of the day I am not the one who carries the ministry, Jesus is.

I think it’s time for me to let go of being enough, maybe it’s time for you to let it go, too.  I’m ready to trust Jesus again, I’m ready to have twelve baskets full of leftovers from my fives loaves of bread.  I’m ready for Jesus to take the small amount of hope and joy and love that I have in me and multiply it to extend to thousands of people.  I think it’s okay if we let go, I think it’s okay if we disappoint people and say no sometimes, because we don’t have to fill everyone all the time.  We can just be and know that Jesus truly has fulfilled every desire inside of us. It is exhausting trying to always enough.

“Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
John 14:6

I can let go of being enough, and know that I’m not and that is okay.

Unrealistic expectations

 

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Sometimes I have moments, moments that are raw, ugly, and scream-filled.  I cry and yell out to the Father and my heart swims in frustration and confusion.  Attacks come from all angles, and my heart is overwhelmed with all the things I should be doing or haven’t done yet. My one desire is to be looked at by someone and somehow they know I love Jesus.  I want my love for Christ to be so evident that is seeps from my pores.  I want the radiance of Christ to be my shield.  I want my actions to be above reproach and I want my conduct to represent the Father.  
But I never seem to get there, I always seem to fall short, to look more like the world than Christ, and in moments like these it frustrates me to the point of yelling, screaming, and crying to the Lord.  Begging him to make me look like Him because I hate this world and what it turns people into, I hate all its flashy lights and it’s materialism that I so easily get so sucked into.  

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I want to be a good friend, someone who is intentional and caring and allows each person grace to be fully themselves, but somehow I fall short of that as well.  I don’t make the calls I should, or I sleep instead of Skype.  I move along in my life sometimes forgetting the people whom I love in states far away.  I never write the letters I intend to and most calls go unreturned.  My heart is for them, but my actions do not represent that.  
I want to be a good mentor but time is never on my side and neither is my heart.  How can I teach when I myself am still learning all too much for me to comprehend.  
I want to be a good sister and daughter but my selfishness moves me further and further away from their hearts and I end up hurting them instead of serving them.  

All of these things I cannot do adequately, and I always feel less than good enough because I’m always falling short, always falling short of the expectations I have put on myself, and there it is, the issue.  I have placed expectations on myself that are unrealistic and detrimental to my whole being.  If I were living according to grace I would not feel overwhelmed or less than enough because It would be Christ in me, not myself.  

I cried out to the lord to give me grace;
“You already have it, beloved.”

ah, yes, of course I do.  It has always been mine but I have been so blinded by my own expectations of how perfect I should be I couldn’t see the grace staring at me from across the room, held by the prince of the peace I have been lacking.  

Today I let go of my own unrealistic expectations of myself and the anxiety that has crept into my veins causing each moment to resemble walking on egg shells.
I want to be like Christ, and that is not a request he will deny. I am not perfect, but He is. (Matthew 6:33)

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