When You Know the Answer

I immediately knew the answer. But if I spoke it aloud, I’d be breaking the rules.

As he handed me the listening stick, the gentleman to my right had asked me this question:

“What’s your next step?”

He had no specific context in mind. So I wanted to tell him my first thought, which was what I had scheduled for the next 3 months about a specific situation. I’m a planner. I love to think ahead, make a list, map out my calendar.

I enjoy knowing well in advance what my next step is.

But the instruction given to us in this Small Group Deep Listening experience was to NOT give our first answer.

We were told to pause, to think a little deeper before answering.

In the second answer, our instructor suggested we might find a more thoughtful, accurate response.

Wait for It . . .

That’s hard to do. Once we have an answer, we typically want to stop thinking. We’re done.

Why hold back if we have a ready-made answer on the tip of our tongue?

Because maybe our first response isn’t always the best one.

I wonder if Jesus had something like this in mind on the day he told his listeners on a mountain to stop being so anxious about what’s for lunch (Matthew 6:31).

He said anybody can waste time worrying about only that (Matthew 6:32).

Maybe Jesus was inviting them to listen deeper, too.

What did they really need? Aside from physical nourishment (which is important, by the way), what was underneath their anxiety about food? Had they been days without food? Did they have food insecurity? Or maybe they were just gluttonous for the next meal (my hand is raised)?

What’s the Real Need?

I often think I know what I need. But often I’m wrong.

I want to ask myself more often, What do I need right now?

Then pause.

And dig a little deeper. What do I really need right now?

Maybe I still won’t know. But maybe I will. And in the clearer awareness, my priorities might change. My strategy to get my need met may change. My ability to meet someone else’s need might change, too.

Awareness increases connection, to ourselves, to others, and to God.

The Second Answer May Be Better

Feeling the listening stick in my hand, I held back my first answer to What’s your next step?

I closed my eyes and thought a little more. My second answer was indeed quite different than the first one had been.

In the pause, my answer became the pause itself. I told my group that my next step is no step. I am meant to stay on this step a little longer. To not move yet. To rest a little longer. To linger in the present.

When it’s time for the next step, I’ll be made aware of it. But for now, my deepest need is to pause from planning next steps.

I’m glad I listened for the second answer.

It feels like the better answer to me.

Our memory verse this week for our Matthew 6 challenge is Matthew 6:32:

“For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.”

Share your thoughts in the comments.

It is 30 minutes before lights out on Saturday night. I’m lying in bed, casually reading the poetry book with the green cover that was loaned to me a few weeks ago. Maybe it will lull me to sleep.

There was no struggle tonight whether to read books or watch TV at bedtime. My once-the-non-reader husband is now deep into his own book beside me. I guess lying beside a wife with a book in her hand for 30 years can do that to a person.

But I’m suddenly wide awake! The words in my book have reached fingers out for my neck and hold me by the throat. What is this book doing to me?

• Some books I read, but I don’t retain.
• Some books I enjoy, but I’m not touched.
• Some books I think through, but I don’t share.

And that’s okay.

As with life, not every book is meant to be a thriller or a life-changer. We don’t need to be emotionally shocked around every corner in our daily life. We aren’t meant to remember every sandwich we’ve ever eaten for lunch. And honestly, most moments in an average day just aren’t worth talking about with another person.

But overall, our lives are meant to be experienced with purpose and priority.

And pauses.

I sit straight up and interrupt Jeff. You’ve got to hear this, I tell him. This is happening to me right now!

I read the words aloud to him from Marla Taviano on page 281 in jaded:

“be right back”

my favorite books are the
ones I have to put down to

google a question or look
up a vocabulary word or

write furiously on my laptop
or in a notebook because the

thoughts/ideas the author’s
words have unleashed won’t

stop coming/flowing and I
not-so-secretly hope you have

to put this book down a time
or two to create something

You’re getting your wish, Marla. I’m doing this in the moment, pausing the book to create something as a result of it.

Would I have gotten this much enjoyment if we’d chosen to just watch another episode of Parks and Recreation tonight (our latest series after recently finishing The Office)?

Even though the words in this book, jaded, were likely written at least two years ago, the flat symbols on paper are still alive today. The Word lives. It breathes and connects and moves alongside us, inside us, as we allow Love to recreate us more in its image.

I close the book. I open my laptop. I type in a few thoughts sparked by the words. I don’t know where they’ll take me, but we’re engaged now.

This is how I want to read books, i.e., how I want to experience life.

• Slow down for the good parts.
• Pause for the aha tingles.
• Capture the awe to share and connect.

I fold up my laptop and tuck it under my nightstand.

But I pick up the book again. I turn to the next page. And slowly resume reading.

Do books do this to you, too? How do you slow down and experience life more fully? Share in the comments.

Read more:

• What Your Reading List Says About You
  I like seeing what books other people choose to read. It says something about them.
• How These 5 Books Changed Me
  Some books won’t let us go. Here are five books that changed me.
• Do You Feel Guilty When You Read?
  When is your favorite time to read? Do you ever feel guilty about it?
• 7 Books to Make You a Better Person
  Here are 7 books to help you become a better human being, if you practice the good ideas in them.

I didn’t see this year coming, did you?

What have you learned from 2020?

• About life
• About your relationships
• About yourself
• About God

Below are 20 lessons I learned from lingering in 2020.

It started when God gave me my word for 2020: Linger. I had no idea that by nudging me to “do less” he was going to challenge me more.

20 Lessons from 2020

1. If we only live for the moment, we won’t live very long.

2. Love has a speed. It’s slow.

The pandemic forced most of us to slow down a notch in 2020. We were forced to confront our hurry sickness by sitting with ourselves. And with each other.

John Mark Comer says this in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry:

“Hurry kills relationships. Love takes time; hurry doesn’t have it. It kills joy, gratitude, appreciation; people in a rush don’t have time to enter the goodness of the moment.”

[Read more:  Will You Return to Hurrying?]

3. It’s better to be proactive than reactive.

4. There are more things we can’t understand than things we can.

5. I don’t like being called names. You don’t either.

The divisive political climate was particularly ugly this year. Rumors and slanders swirled around like a tornado.

But slinging mud helped no one. Name calling made things worse. Remembering we’re all God’s children—we’re all in this together—makes things better.

[Read more:  Stop the Name Calling]

6. Staying home more is as good as I thought it could be, but also much harder.

7. When we don’t stand up for each other, we all fall down.

8. In hard things, be sad. It’s okay to cry it out.

I cried in 2020. A lot. About racial injustice. Spiking covid cases and deaths. Frustrating political tensions.

But crying was okay. It was healthy. Tears clean up our emotional buildup. They’re here to help us. Let them work for you.

[Read more:  I Need My Tears]

9. Not everybody who survives a pandemic realizes they just survived a pandemic.

10. We give up too easily and don’t let go quickly enough.

11. To stay close, linger in conversation. Even if it’s only digital.

It’s easier to avoid the people we disagree with. But should we?

Maybe sometimes. But if we want to carry our relationships into 2021, we have to start talking to each other again, not just about each other.

[Read more:  How Can We Stay Close If We Don’t Communicate?]

12. Learn more about yourself. It helps you be less annoying.

I lingered in the Enneagram this year. I wrote a series in February, The Enneagram for Spiritual Growth (see the index here). I learned a lot of things, including this: If we’ll uncover our shadow sides, we’ll know where to shine the light.

[Read more:  Is Your Social Style Annoying? 9 Ways We Manipulate Each Other]

13. Many Americans value individual freedom more than group sacrifices. But others give away everything they have to help a stranger. (And you can’t tell who is which by church attendance.)

14. We’re smarter when we work together.

15. We don’t need to know everything to know enough.

We don’t have to know everything about a virus, about a policy, about an issue before we can do better. Because of what we do know: God is always with us. 

[Read more: How Much Do We Need to Know?]

16. We are more connected to each other than we realize.

17. To take a step back from resentment, take a knee down.

I’m still working on this one. It’s been hard to not resent those who are spreading the virus by their carelessness.

But I don’t want to end the year with bitterness. Life may not be fair. But I want to love anyway.

[Read more:  It’s Not Fair! When You Resent Those Ruining It for the Rest of Us]

18. We can look at the same things but not see things the same.

19. Traditions can change yet still be traditions.

20. Linger in the present, but stay hopeful about the future.

What did you learn from 2020? Share in the comments.

Is Everything Really “Fine”?

Our elderly friend had brought a chair outside. She was sitting in it when we walked up. We could tell something was wrong.

We asked her if she was okay. She blew off the question with, “Everything is fine.”

But I recognized the ploy. I sometimes use it myself.

We may try to hide behind our words, but our eyes often give us away. Her eyes were speaking.

We asked if there was anything we could pray about for her. She was silent.

So we became silent too. 

What’s the Rush?

It’s hard to linger in silence.

• We don’t like uncertainty.
  We want answers.
• We don’t like pain (ours or others).
  We want relief.
• We don’t like problems.
  We want them fixed.

Answers and relief and solutions are good. They are healing. They are our goals.

But sometimes, in our rush to fix things, to get to the answer, to hurry to a resolution, we shortchange a relationship.

With our friend, we waited through the silence. And the silence was uncomfortable.

I don’t like long pauses in conversations with those I don’t know well. My mind starts grasping for something to say, anything to talk about.

But this time, we stayed with the pause.

And out of the silence arose a mumbled answer, “I just don’t like living here.” The dam broke. Our friend cried. She told us more. And more. We listened. We prayed.

We connected.

Rising from the Silence

Isn’t this how God often works with us? God doesn’t always rush in to tidy up our lives as soon we’re in a mess.

Instead, he gives us room to hash it out. He allows us to spin in circles if needed. He makes space for us to experiment with new ideas and toss around options. Yet all the while he sticks by us, allowing us to experience his presence.

God’s help isn’t always noisy. Sometimes it’s quiet.

I was thankful for the Spirit’s nudge to honor the initial silence with our friend. To listen a little longer. To linger in the pause. Even though it felt unnatural.

In the end, the silence brought fuller understanding, not less.

Instead of rushing to get an answer, I want to be willing to linger longer in the pause.

A better way may arise from the silence.

Is it hard for you, too, to linger in the pause? Share in the comments.

A New One Word 2021 Group

Lately I’ve been lingering in my memories. “Linger” is the word I chose for 2020. Little did we realize how much lingering we each would do in our own spaces in 2020!

I’ve also been thinking ahead about my One Word for 2021. So I’m creating a One Word community for 2021.

Sign up for the One Word 2021 group here.

It will be a low-key group where we can:

• Share about our One Words once a month
• Listen to others share about their One Words
• Help each other stay accountable to practice our individual word throughout the year

On the 21st day of each month I’ll offer my blog as home for you to share your own progress (or lack thereof) via comments or your own blog posts or Instagram posts. I’m also setting up a Facebook group for those interested in more interactions throughout each month.

More information about the One Word 2021 community is on my blog here. 

5 Snapshots of Lingering in Time

Here are 5 pictures from last month, reflecting on time—past, present, and future.

1. THE PAST – PART 1

My husband Jeff has a gift for connecting with the older generation, listening to them talk about their past, about the toys they grew up with, the lives they lived. One such toy is Cushman scooters. Jeff’s hobby is buying old Cushmans, working on them awhile, then selling them to those who want them. This is a unique one, a 1961-ish Cushman Golfster.

2. THE PAST – PART 2

Our granddaughters were with us on November 13 this year, the birthday and death anniversary of our precious middle daughter Kali 27 years ago. Our granddaughter got to wish Aunt Kali a “Happy Birthday” and leave flowers on her grave.

3. THE PRESENT 

Living in 2020 has brought many firsts. This was our first all-outdoors Thanksgiving. Thankfully it was a semi-warm, totally sunny day at my in-laws’ house. But who knows?—this could be the beginning of a brand new tradition (except I hope we’ll not have to keep a 6-foot distance again).

4. THE FUTURE

I love watching my youngest daughter Jenna and Trey grow into their marriage. They have a bright future together. They are both avid photographers, so Trey rowed Jenna to the pelicans who were also visiting my in-laws on Thanksgiving Day so she could get closer photos of them. 

5. TIME COMBINED

Our oldest granddaughter always asks to see the rockets when she comes to our house. This trip we took her to the Space and Rocket Center near us to walk among the rockets. My father spent his career building rockets and the Space Shuttle for NASA so I love that she is interested in them. Jeff also builds rockets for his job, so I feel past, present, and future all combined in this photo.  

Did you choose One Word for 2020? Do you have one yet for 2021? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Should We Always Avoid Confrontation?

Are we retreating deeper into our separate corners instead of staying in common, open spaces? 

(But I’m not talking about social-distancing! Please social distance. I’m talking about communication-distancing.)

Are we losing communication with people who don’t think like us?

I find myself sometimes shutting out the opposition altogether. If someone frustrates me on Facebook or constantly believes the “wrong” thing on Twitter, I mute them or temporarily snooze them for 30 days (I highly recommend this feature on FB). 

And maybe that’s okay. It’s just social media, after all. I need to protect my mental and spiritual health, as well as my relationships. Sometimes stepping away from the chaos is the right thing to do.

But should I avoid all confrontation in real life, too?

Don’t Stay Too Far Apart

When we rub against each other in person (not literally of course; this is 2020), our opinions can provoke harsh thoughts from others, or worse, harsh words.

But should we shut it all down? Stop talking about things if we disagree?

If we can’t talk to each other, hash it out, even get noisy about it when we’re too exasperated for anything else (Lord, forgive us), what’s left?

How can we come back together if we stay so far apart?

I like staying in my bubble. It’s comfortable there. No conflict. No disagreements. No ugly-stirrings-inside-me that I have to calm down.

But my bubble is small. And the world is large.

If we’re to love the world, we have to puncture our bubbles and go into the world.

• Red and blue. Together.
• Black and white. Together.
• Christian and Muslim and Atheist and Hindu and Jewish. Together.

And if we’re to tell the world about the love of God, we have to be the love of God.

Let’s not run away from the people we disagree with.

Let’s keep each other’s best interests at heart. Learn to talk to each other again, trust each other again, and love each other again.

It’s what we’re made to do. It’s who we are. It’s who I want to be.

*   ~  *  ~  *  ~  *

Still in the Same Family

In Eugene Peterson’s short devotional, A Month of Sundays, he talks about the two brothers in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Peterson points out that when the older son talks to his father, he refers to his younger brother as “This son of yours,” instead of “this brother of mine.”

• The older brother “would not associate with anyone who had behaved so badly.” (Is this me?)
• “He would not be tainted by any kinship with a prodigal. (Is this me?)
• “The prodigal was his father’s son but not his brother’s brother.” (Is this me?)

“But when he denied brotherhood, he also forfeited sonship.”

Please don’t let this be me. I don’t want to forfeit my sonship because I deny my brotherhood.

Remember we are still members of the same family. We still have the same Father.

We are still brothers and sisters. Let’s not give up on each other.

Let’s linger together a little longer.

Are you struggling, too, with people on the “other side”? Share how you’re coping.

Article by David Brooks:

• Nine Nonobvious Ways to Have Deeper Conversations:
  The art of making connection even in a time of dislocation

My thanks to Net Galley + WaterBrook
& Multnomah for A Month of Sundays

When the Temptation Comes

It happened again last night.

I woke up around 11:45 pm. I only slept for 90 minutes and I’m already awake? Not good. Sigh.

I know the best thing to do. Relax, meditate on memorized scripture, pray. 

But sometimes I lack the self-discipline for that.

An immediate temptation instead?

Put in my earbuds, find a non-engaging podcast to listen to on my phone, and let it derail my brain into nothingness. It can take awhile to work. And sometimes the podcast topic is too interesting after all, and it keeps me awake. Or if I forget to set the sleep timer to turn the podcast off, it wakes me back up later.

Sometimes I suspect the whole process of trying to get back to sleep can actually keep me awake.

But listening to podcasts is just so tempting. And so easy. I don’t like waiting for sleep to come on its own good time.

Wait 5 More Minutes

It’s hard to wait for things we want. We’re accustomed to instant gratification. Amazon has spoiled us with “buy now.” Google gives us prompt answers to our queries. Apple music lets me hear my favorite song immediately.

It’s uncomfortable to sit in uncertainty. The in-between makes us antsy. We’d rather forge ahead with the quick thing than wait patiently for the right thing.

So when I’m tempted to jump in too quickly, I trick myself with this: Just wait 5 more minutes.

• Instead of sending off the angry email in the heat of the moment, wait 5 minutes.
• Instead of getting the 3rd slice of pizza because I’m still hungry, wait 5 minutes.
• And instead of immediately reaching for the podcast when I can’t sleep, just give it at least 5 minutes. Relax my muscles, recite scripture in my head, and watch my breathing.

God can do a lot when we give him 5 minutes. When we turn off the urgency. When we release our grip on getting relief now.

Our emotions might shift. We might find something better to do in the delay. We might discover a better solution. We might find we can hold off even longer. The problem may even resolve on its own.

And if it doesn’t? Well, maybe we need another 5 minutes. Or maybe this time we just give in to the podcast to lull us back to sleep.

Either way, we don’t always need willpower to get through hour after hour.

Maybe we just need willpower for 5 more minutes.

Sometimes in the 5 minute delay, I actually fall asleep.

And stay asleep.

For much longer than 5 minutes.

Featured Post—Do This for 5 Minutes

Donna Bucher suggests a 5-minute bedtime ritual to clear our minds. Try using a night journal to unload your thoughts and quiet your mind before sleep.

“Writing down your thoughts at bedtime brings an end to the day. It draws a line between today and tomorrow. It gives you a new, fresh day upon waking and keeps today from spilling over into tomorrow.”

Read all of Donna’s post here, then share your own blog posts at the linkup below. 

Using a Night Journal For a Quiet Mind at Bedtime

Thanks for sharing, Donna! Here’s a button for your blog.

1. Share 1 or 2 of your most recent CHRISTIAN LIVING posts. (No DIY, crafts, recipes, or inappropriate articles.) All links are randomly sorted.

2. Comment on 1 or 2 other links. Grace & Truth linkup encourages community.   

3. Every host features one entry from the previous week. To be featured, include this button or link back here on your post (mandatory to be featured, but not to participate).

We encourage you to follow our hosts on their blogs or social media.

MAREE DEE – Embracing the Unexpected
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

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Now Let’s Link Up!

Do you have any hacks to help you move past temptations? (And if you have any tips for getting a full night’s sleep, please share!) Share your thoughts in the comments.

Linger to Listen

Linger.

It’s been my One Word theme for 2020, even before Covid-19 twisted it into a theme for all of us.

And for the month of August? I concentrated on lingering to listen, specifically, listen to pain. My own and others. 2020 has been an appropriate year for that, too.

Last week, one of my best friends was in pain. I wasn’t able to be with her in person. That hurt. But as much as possible, I still tried to linger with her in her pain by listening to her words.

It’s what I’m about to embark upon with Jesus in September through November. Specifically, I’ll be lingering in his words that ended the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 7.

Linger in Jesus’s Words

A few times a year, I take on a Bible memory challenge with Do Not Depart. We’re starting again September 6, taking 1 to 2 verses at a time.

To linger.

We’ll be lingering in the red letters. The words of Jesus 2000 year ago. I look forward to it.

I know some of the words will sting. They’ll be painful.

“You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye” (verse 5)

Other words will be full of hope.

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find” (verse 7)

And yet other words will be an encouragement to love others better.

“So whatever you wish others would do to you, do also to them” (verse 12)

With the slow pace, I’ll get to linger with Jesus in each word, in each circumstance of my life, in each relationship I encounter.

Linger for Spiritual Exercise

Whether in pain or in silence or through experience, lingering is a spiritual exercise that has benefited me more than I could have predicted. It keeps me from moving ahead too fast. It forces me to be little more patient, to wait a little longer on God.

Because part of me wants to move on. To be finished with 2020. I want to return to normalcy. I want to be able to sit with my friends when they’re sick and listen to their pains and linger in their joys in person.

But I know God still has us in 2020 for good reasons. So I need to linger here with him, with his words, in his presence.

If memorizing scripture is something you’d like to try or return to, we welcome anyone to join us in this challenge to memorize Matthew 7:1-14.

Get all the details here. And if you’re on Facebook, you can also join our private #HideHisWord facebook group here for extra accountability (but not required).

You’ll receive lots of resources to print and encouragement along the way when you sign up.

And if consistency is an issue with you (it was our #1 reported hindrance in our unofficial Facebook poll), read here for 5 ways to be more consistent in memorizing scripture.

Lingering isn’t always comfortable. But lingering helps you notice things you wouldn’t notice otherwise. It affords opportunities to immerse yourself in deeper ways, in deeper places.

I can think of no better place to linger than in the truths of Jesus.

How are you doing with lingering in 2020? Share your thoughts in the comments.

When We’re Incompatible

I’ve said ugly things about her. I occasionally look at parts of her with disgust. I think of ways she needs to change.

I’m taking her to the beach next week (abiding by all the proper coronavirus precautions, of course!). She’ll put on a swimsuit and out we’ll go, walking together into public spaces.

I’ll try not to be embarrassed by her.

Because she’s done and continues to do so much for me.

I’m talking about my body.

Wasted Time

She’s been with me since birth. And even though I feel she fails me at times, she’s been my constant companion, taking me into the world to do things I enjoy and hug people I love and eat food I treasure.

She’s been good to me, even when I talk bad about her.

Here’s how Jen Hatmaker puts it in Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire:

“If I had every second back that I’ve spent thinking about my weight and age, my belly and my crow’s feet, I could have cured cancer with all the extra time.”

Do you struggle with this, too?

I try to do better about it. To accept my shape. My numbers on the scale. My inches on the tape measure.

The ugly self-talk is wasted time. It’s poisonous. It’s disrespectful.

Honor Her Instead

This is a battle I’ll continue fighting to win. Because when I think of all the beautiful ways my body has served me—just as she is, including a few extra quarantine pounds—I am grateful.

Again from Jen:

“She walks and cooks and lifts and hugs and types and drives and cleans and holds babies and rests and laughs and does everything in her power to live another meaningful, connected day on this earth. She sure does love me and my life and family. Maybe it is time to stop hating her and just love her back.”

So when I walk her onto the beach next week (keeping 6-foot distance from others), I want her to revel in the sand between her toes, the sun on her skin, and the waves in her ears.

She deserves it. I honor her for housing me and God. Just as he made her.

Just as she is. Just as I am.

This topic was from Chapter 3, “I Am Strong in My Body” in Jen Hatmaker’s new book, Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire. All the chapters are worth reading about who we are, what we need, and how we connect.

How do you keep a healthy body image? Please share in the comments.

Thanks to Net Galley + Nelson Books
for the review copy of this book

I don’t like to cry in public. Maybe a single a tear or two is comfortable. But I don’t like to have a full-on breakdown in a crowd.

It feels so out-of-control.

But when I’m home? And especially if I’m home alone? I let the tears fall as they please.

Tears are cathartic. They cleanse our souls and heal our hearts and reboot our emotions once our eyes empty them out.

Tears aren’t just for women though. Or for children. Seeing a grown man cry is powerfully moving, although more rare.

This below is written by a man, a tender man, a super-intelligent man. If you listen to The Liturgist podcast or Ask Science Mike, you already know Mike McHargue and what an extraordinary human being he is.

Mike says in his book, You’re a Miracle (and a Pain in the A**),

“One week, when she asked me what stopped me from crying, I paused for a moment, and then told her the truth: ‘I’m afraid that if I start, I will never stop.’

I think that’s how lots of people feel about their feelings. We’re afraid that if we get sad, angry, or afraid, those feelings will overwhelm us, and we’ll shatter.

But that’s not how feelings work. Our feelings aren’t here to break us. They’re here to help us—even heal us.

Our feelings can be powerful, especially when we repress them for years or decades. But when we let our feelings happen in response to events in our lives, they don’t crash over us like a tsunami. No, they wash over us like the kind of warm, gentle waves I played in as a kid on Florida’s Gulf Coast beaches. Feelings are meant to have a wave action. They naturally progress, crest, and recede.”

2020 steamrolled onto our planet with a furor, packing quite a punch of strong emotions. I’ve cried a lot the past few months. About continuing racial inequalities. About spiking covid cases. About once-again frustrating political tensions leading up to an election.

It’s not over yet. 

I need my tears. God gives them to me on purpose, for my good. I’ll use them. 

How about you?

Have you had lots of emotions in 2020, too? Do you cry easily? Or hardly ever? Share in the comments. 

My thanks to Net Galley
for the review copy of I’m a Miracle