Surrendering to Stillness

Summer, at the unbusiest of times, renders me stagnant.

To put it simply, I don’t like the season of stagnant.

Upon learning more about my personality this year– introverted extrovert, Enneagram type 2, ENFJ, prefers uncomfortable conversation over meaningless small talk, a passionate leader, unwilling to settle for second-best, spontaneous when appropriate, only competitive in the things that matter to me, and so on– I discovered I rather despise the act of sitting still. It is an art I have yet to master and fear I never will.

Part of my drive to succeed is fueled by the unsettling hum in my ear of Do this, Do that, Don’t nap when there’s so much day to be had. My mind has difficulty surrendering to rest. In fact, just a few days ago I stayed awake for twenty-four hours and barely slept a wink on my ten-hour flight back from Rome.

I’ve never been able to rest adequately with ease during the daylight hours. I find some excuse to stay awake, like work or going to the gym, or my pillow feels like a rock beneath my head, or there’s too much noise outside. Cop- outs and justifications galore.

I can’t seem to get it across to my mind that rest is entirely as vital as productivity.

We cannot succeed if we do not first surrender to stillness.

My hands desperately reach for anything– anything at all— to fill my long summer days with. Books. Movies. Music and podcasts. Designing my webpage. Working. Working out. Trips to the mountains or to Nashville or the beach. Whatever it takes to keep me distracted and entertained until August, where I then get to transition to leading and discipling a hall full of freshmen girls and attempting to convince them I have my life “together”, whatever that means.

All when in actuality, I’m avoiding the messy middle of my life.

I knew going into this summer that the Lord would stretch me to fit the res-life shoes He has awaiting me this year at Lee. Each time I try and convince Him He’s got the wrong girl, I am instantly met with blessed assurance that no, He has not made a mistake. He chose correctly.

But…why? Why me?

I feel so broken most of the time, the war against the Enemy continuing in my mind. Anxiety threatens to beat down my door and consume me once again, and my fear barricades the bolts. I cannot force myself to be still because if I surrender to this particular unhurried season of life, I worry I won’t be able to lift myself out from the weight of Satan’s horrendous labels and lies.

I feel as though I cannot win. How do I accomplish something fantastic when there’s physically not much I can do?

I think part of the reason I struggle to grasp stillness is for the aforementioned reason: Stillness requires nothing of me but to wait and rest. There is no need for talent, no need for connections, and no need for competition. There’s no scale to judge my stillness from anyone else’s, yet there are an infinite number of things I can learn and gain from keeping my mouth closed and my eyes above.

I keep getting this wrong, filling in the gaps of my story with things I imagine God would want to do and saving Him the trouble of doing it. But I tend to learn the hard way that my great God prevents the very things I wish to happen from happening for my own protection– not to withhold “good” from me.

I picture Him sitting beside me, watching as I fret about the future and plotting the fastest course to win what I want, all while slowly shaking His head. Daughter, you’re missing the point. You’re constantly looking for change when I have you in a season of consistency. Be here now, or you’ll miss so much of my blessing.

Even with this knowledge, I continue to face the stagnant, the stillness, the silence.

However, my mindset on my season begins to shift. I am awakened to the reality that perhaps the stillness is exactly where the Lord is leading me to live.

I recently read the book The Ministry of Ordinary Places by Shannan Martin. She writes, “Rather than spend my days scanning the digital horizon for a dopamine hit of false comfort, I want to keep my ear tuned to the groanings of my place. I want to stand ready, as Christ’s ambassador in my neighborhood, wearing grace, flesh, and skinny jeans. I want to belong, just as I am, and I want to get better at loving people for every good and puzzling thing they are.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Jogging for JOY.

Today, I am joyful.

Yesterday was one of those giggly, whimsical, free-spirited, simply marvelous kind of days.

I don’t think anybody has as many of those days as one might wish.

Lately I’ve been running.

If you knew me, you’d ask, Who are you and what have you done with Hannah?!

Perhaps it was the incessant weight of laziness dragging me down after Christmas had come and gone with yet still a week to go before school started back, or perhaps it was all the delectable things one tends to eat around the holidays. I don’t really know what fueled my health-fire, but whatever it was, I am grateful. I have exercised almost every day this week, four of which included running in my neighborhood in the COLD. 

But we’ll see how long this dedication lasts (I hope it’s permanent, of course!).

ANYWAY. Back to my giggly, whimsical, free-spirited, simply marvelous day (trust me–the running is not completely off-subject!). School has begun to feel like a bore, this year especially (early senioritis is my guess ;)), so goofing off in yearbook class and eating lunch with my best friends added the right amount of spunk to my day.

But the thing that really brightened my entire weekend was the ah-mazing news of my very first publication. (YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!)

About a month ago, I submitted a short story I wrote for my English class to an online magazine (just a local one–the Knoxville Public Library’s online magazine for teenagers).

Yesterday, during my yearbook class, I received an email informing me that my story had been selected to be featured in this month’s issue of the online magazine.

YOU CAN ONLY IMAGINE MY ENTHRALLMENT AT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just when I was getting worried that I wouldn’t get accepted, that I would get turned down, that I wasn’t good enough, I hear a whisper (or, in this case, a SHOUT), telling me that indeed, I am. At least, I’ve got a fair shot in this world.

And so do you.

God is so good. All the time. Even when you think He isn’t listening, when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, when everything seems so hopeless, God is still good.
He uses our beautiful talents when we are expecting it the least.

And I am so grateful for this.

So, to celebrate this victory, I went jogging.

Jogging for joy.

Joy that, on the times that I am feeling the most discouraged, God will use me.

And what a wonderful feeling it is to be useful!!

 

A Doer Who Acts

I sit here this morning at my desk, mourning.

What do I have to mourn, you ask? Christmas with my family and friends was gorgeous. I am beyond blessed. So why am I shedding a few tears?

Because Lady Sybil Branson is dead. 

Yes, that’s right–I am a Downton Abbey addict. I rejoiced when Mrs. Hughes found out the lump on her chest was not cancer, and I grieved when Mr. Bates was taken to prison. Sometimes I feel as though I am living through the early 1900s with the Crawleys myself.

And though I am re-watching all the episodes before season six premieres (I’ve got to prepare myself, right?) and I have seen Sybil’s death played out before, I cannot stop myself from lamenting with her husband, poor Tom, and Cora, a grieved mother. I ache when they ache, and I cannot bear to see any of the family in such terrible pain.

Because, when I think about it, I couldn’t bear to see my family in such terrible pain.

Tragedies like Sybil’s occur every minute of every day, though we may not realize it. Starvation, disease, freak accidents, old age, and deaths by childbirth run rampant across our big, beautiful world. And we, as humans, do the best we can to ignore the impending sense of doom surrounding us.

We become numb to pain.

And to quote Augustus Waters from The Fault in Our Stars, “Pain demands to be felt.”

No, I am not referring to the pain you may feel when a family member passes or a good friend moves away; I am referring to the pain all around us. Suffocating us. The children dying from malnourishment and the women suffering under the hand of sex trafficking.

PAIN IS EVERYWHERE. We simply choose what kind of pain we want to feel.

It is our duty as inhabitants of this Earth, and as Christians, to be aware of what is going on in our world today. Right now. To do what we can to help. To pray for our brothers and sisters ministering in China. To love the person you really don’t want to. To spread a little kindness by slipping the homeless man on the street a couple dollars.

This life is short. We never know how much time we have left to make a difference. So I encourage you to make the most of yours. Attune your heart and your ears to hear the plan God has for you, and do. It’s never too late.

James 1:22 & 25 say, But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves…But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing. 

 don’t ever forget that you’re a citizen of this world, and there are things you can do to lift the human spirit. 

// aaron sorkin 

A Purpose-Driven Life

I am human.

Humans are messy, flawed, arrogant, ungrateful, and at times, unlovable beings.

Yet, we are all here, on this big blue planet, for a reason.

A purpose. 

Yep. I’m still searching (and quite relentlessly, I might add) for mine.

And every time I feel like I’m getting closer to The Great Calling, I feel God pulling me in a slightly different direction. Or, at least, that is my fear of what’s to come.

You see, I have this grand plan for how I would like to see my life play out:

1. I would like very much to graduate with a 4.0 and get into an amazing college with a fabulous English department (my personal favorites thus far: Emory University and New York University).
2. Study journalism and creative writing, and earn my degree in one of the two (or both, if you can do that, which I’m not sure you can, but oh well).
3. Publish my first (of many) novel(s)–this is flexible and can fit anywhere on my list of aspirations.
4. Get a job as a magazine or newspaper journalist.
5. Get married and start a family.
6. Live happily ever after 🙂

Sounds pretty wonderful, huh?

I know it does for me!

I have always been told that “Your plan is not always God’s plan!” and “God’s plan is ten times better than anything you could ever imagine!”

But I can’t stop myself from thinking (selfishly), “But what about what I want?”

I have a tight grip on the wants and desires of my heart. I wish I didn’t, but as we’ve already established, I am only human. 

If your feelings are similar to mine, friend, I encourage you to cut yourself a little slack!

What? But I’m not living like God wants me to! I’m thinking only of myself. 

Yes, yes, of course. We are all human AND sinners. Everyone messes up. Everyone makes mistakes. But most of all, everyone cares about his or her future and thinks about his or herself quite often.

Is this a sin?

Wanting a better life for yourself? Thinking of ways you can achieve this so-called better life?

No, I don’t think so. But where it becomes a sin is when we grow obsessed with our plans instead of asking God what He has in store for us.

I am guilty of this, as you can probably tell from my life plans listed above. Is it wrong for me to want this amazing life for myself? Absolutely not!

But I want Jesus to be my crux, my substance, my still point. I want my life to scream F U L F I L L E D. I want to, in all simplicity, live for Christ.

And that starts with me letting go of all my selfish ambitions and wants and plans. Now, that is not to say Jesus won’t give me anything I desire–He might. But if He does, it will be on His terms, and not mine.

Living a purpose-driven life is what each and every one of us is meant to do. What’s holding you back?

I am sure that God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. 

c.s. lewis