Discipline

The Superbowl is on and I'm not watching. Not intentionally. I was just caught up in trying to get it done--so to speak. While it embarrasses me to say so, I'm a remarkably undisciplined person. Life is full of great ideas, goals, and projects--inevitably, I begin several, attempt to meet impossible standards, and eventually move "it" to the back burner. For the past several months, the goal has been to finish. Just finish. Before moving on to something else. Focusing on the task at hand. Giving it my full attention--or as close to full as possible. Over all of this--I want to be aware of what's important, what requires my attention and what just sucks me in. I want to bear down on my gifts.

We've been talking about "calling" at church. One of the things I love about my 30's is perspective. In some ways, calling can be elusive--but sometimes it's just whatever sticks. Words have stuck to me. I teach about them, I write with them, I think about them, I explain them. But, what I lack is discipline. And here's what I'm wondering, if living in our calling requires us to recognize that our worth is found only in Christ, then we must immerse ourselves in that reality. Such an immersion requires a discipline of remembrance, constant referral to truth, whole faith.

Psalm 93, 96; 34 [morning/evening]
Genesis 24:50-67
2 Timothy 2:14-21
Mark 10:13-22

Blogging

What I'm about to write will plainly reveal the amount of confidence I have in this blog...but, here goes: I'm not sure how much I enjoy this process. There's the pressure to actually do it. The journal-esque quality that I don't want it to have. The way it affects my reading--"ok, so what here among the four options [Psalms, Old Testament, Gospel, New Testament] will spark my interest enough, merge neatly enough with my day, allow me just enough insight to throw something down on the screen." And to be honest, I haven't enjoyed those feelings and thoughts. After all--it ties everything here into a ridiculously small package...just that which would fit inside my head. My head...that's it right there. I don't want to end there--ever.

I don't want my own understanding of the world to be just my own. It's boring. Sometimes very skewed. I don't want to interpret events through a lens I can't let go of. Because the truth of the matter is that I'm not completely satisfied with my understanding or interpretations. And the older I get, the more I don't want to be at the center of anything--attention or action or thought.

Psalm 72/Psalm 119:73-96 [morning/evening]
Genesis 22:1-18
Hebrews 11:23-31
John 6:52-59

Fullness

This morning, Luke and I sorted through a closet shelf full of miscellaneous items I've been throwing there since his birth. I'm amazed by how soon we can reminisce. He's just two and a half, but he almost seemed to remember the favorite infant toy I pull from a box. Tiny hats, socks, and memories from showers fascinated him--but he seems more interested in the story behind it: "Mommy, what's this?" "Who gave this to me?" "What's this for?"

But the weather today feels like a March afternoon and we left his room in its disastrous state in favor of a walk. In fact, we stayed outside until oneish--he played in the mud with his dump trucks and a shovel and I sat in the sun and read about bread-baking. The house...well, the house is in various states of disarray. But my experiment today--of throwing my agenda to the side and listening to God? I think it's working.

Here's the thing--yesterday, in church, we talked about calling. Our pastor said that we're called to impact others' lives through Christ "for the common good." And truly his words hit the exact spot I've been bearing down on for several months now: Where exactly am I supposed to throw my impact? Logic isn't exactly my forte, however, it seems that wherever my impact is going to be, I'm going to have to be there too. In other words, my impact is going to occur wherever I am; whatever I do has some impact. We all know from direct experience that our impact can be negative; this is sin. But when our life is rooted in Christ's--this is when our impact directly adds to "the common good."

There's so much to say about this, and it's a train of thought I don't want to jump from. I know these things about myself: Right now, I'm called to be a wife and a mother...in my world, this means I want to build my home with grace, skill, and love. I keenly feel a call to use words to connect others to Christ--in varied forms and settings. And that's it. I'm not called to be skinny or a published writer--even though I judge myself by whether I've accomplished those things or not. (And I haven't.) But "size 6" and "Randomhouse" have nothing to do with my calling.

I sat and thought about Psalm 25 for a long time this morning...

"Show me your ways, Lord,
teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long."
(vs. 4-5)

Psalm 25/9, 15 [morning/evening]
Genesis 8:6-22
Hebrews 4:14--5:6
John 2:23--3:15

Pen and Ink

Psalm 20, 21/23, 27 [morning/evening]
1 Kings 17:17-24
John 4:46-54
3 John 1-15

[Note: Read the passages from 1 Kings and John together...beautiful symmetry]

3 John 13-14 reads, "I have much more to say to you, but I don't want to write it with pen and ink. For I hope to see you soon, and then we will talk face to face."

I'm terrible about getting together with friends. I have a suspicion that many of my friends think I can be a little bit of a flake. And while this sometimes happens to married people, I've always been like this. Given the opportunity to stay at home with a book or a project or meet up with a friend for coffee, I'll most likely choose the book every time. I'm a homebody. A little bit of a loner.

But this week, I've scheduled (see how warm and fuzzy my language is?) two get togethers with friends. A dear girlfriend is arriving in just a few minutes for a long-talked about coffee, and I'm finally following through with a six month old invitation tomorrow. But I don't feel like an anti-social person on any normal day. There's facebook, email, the sometimes hundreds of people I see every week, phone calls, casual encounters with family or friends at church. But there's something about the way John ends his third and final letter that makes me pause.

There are some things that can only be understood face to face. Pen and ink have their limitations.