as I near yet another hectic end to a full-to-the-brim semester, I’ve been reflecting a good deal on what’s got me feeling so down. I think it’s capitalism again.
seriously. it may sound lighthearted, but as I approach the end of my seminary journey and have been turning toward the future, I realize that yet again, I’ve been putting too much of my identity into what I do rather than who I am. I find myself focusing on all the things I need to accomplish or consumables I need to get and forgetting to pay attention to what really matters and what’s going to last: the memories I make with those I love and those who love me.
so, as I often do when looking for answers to existential problems, I’ve been traveling down memory lane again and remembering the most important lessons I’ve already learned. nearly five years ago, before seminary, before Virginia and before Seattle, before I got married, I wrote this caption on an instagram post:
I don’t have a resolution list this year.
.
I was in the car talking with God and asking how I could stop feeling distant and stuck in my head. His response was this: “you need to believe the truth about yourself when people say it to you.”
.
I don’t have a resolution list this year. I’m focusing on wholeheartedness. One thing at a time, one step at a time. All in its proper space in the process. I want to believe and accept the truth people say about me.
friends, these words have been haunting me in the kindest, gentlest way recently. This holy lesson that I once learned has slipped from my memory in recent times. I haven’t been believing the truth people say about me. instead of trusting the “I love you” of friends and family, I’ve been trying to accomplish more and more in hopes that I will earn their “true” affection somehow.
yet love was already waiting with outstretched arms the whole time.
and instead of resting in the fact that I have enough and I am enough, I still feel a hole inside and try to fill it with either things to accomplish or things to buy (so that I can accomplish more, of course).
yet I have enough. I am enough. just as I am, today, right now.
this instagram caption has been exactly what I’ve needed to hear in this season. I’ve particularly needed to remember the word “wholeheartedness.”
wholeheartedness: the art of living an undivided life. a choice to not settle for fear, but instead to be at peace. a heart that is spacious, open, and willing to try.
in my last blog post, I shared about Rowena Tsai’s video on slow productivity and I came back to it again in this season, but instead of jumping straight to possible actions, this time I’m just asking questions and taking productivity completely out of the picture. what do I value most? what are my life dreams? who do I want to be?
and the answer to all those questions can be summed up by saying, “I want to be wholehearted.”
one thing at a time, one step at a time. all in its proper space in the process. I want to believe the and accept truth people say about me.
I want to be wholehearted, showing up as my full self each day. that doesn’t mean I have to give 100% to everything all the time, far from it; it means that I show up presently as I am, unafraid about the status of my belovedness.
as I near finals week, the upcoming holiday season, and a very busy January, I’m reminding myself today that the things I do are not what make me beloved. I’m beloved because I’m made in the image of God, and that image is a glorious reflection of all that I was made to be—a body, a mind, a soul, a heart; woven together by hope and stardust.
this song “chances” by needtobreathe has been one of my favorites in this season.
and so I am beginning to dream again about my belovedness, and I want to invite you to join me on this journey. I challenge you to make this simple, daring, scary choice: to take one thing at a time, one step at a time. to believe and accept the truth that people say about you. and to be wrapped once more in belovedness, by God and by those around you.
sending love to you all over this great wide world, wherever you may be.
—m.