Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet
~Thich Nhat Hanh~
(quote creds: Reanna Abbey)
Pain.
Suffering.
It’s the universal thing every nation and language understands. It’s as easy to translate as a smile, a laugh. It’s one of the first concepts we understand after entering the world, and yet, simultaneously, one of the greatest questions we face throughout our lives. It binds us together; it tears us apart. It’s innately a part of us to feel it, to cause it, to live it. The part that astounds me is we are still in shock when are required to step into it, to live in it, to walk through it. How we try desperately to avoid it, even if it means transferring it onto someone else.
The amount of times I try daily to push it away, weather it be a sin, a struggle, or a part of life I don’t feel prepared to face; my first reaction is distraction. But just because it feels good and brings relief for a fleeting moment, doesn’t mean it’s good for me. Distraction comes too easily for me, for us. As I talked with a dear friend of mine this week, she told me she liked to go for a walk in between classes and work, but she’s never able to let her mind take a walk. The fact that we feel guilty and unproductive by taking a walk speaks volumes in my life to the fact I push away thoughts and problems I need to deal with by being “productive”.
The Lord never called us to be productive.
Matthew 28:19 doesn’t say,
“go therefore and be productive and get a lot of work done and get no sleep.”
God commands ( He doesn’t ask),
“Go, therefore and make disciples of the nations, baptizing them in the Holy Spirit.”
We are called to relationship and discipleship with others. Not to be the quickest to make it through college, to be the best financially, to work more hours then the other person, to look the best or to get the better job. We are called to intentionality and intimacy, the kind that Christ gives and longs to receive every day. Yet, how can I possibly expect God to speak in a way that I can hear Him when I’m drowning Him out with all my “productivity”?
I do not believe that the Lord causes pain, nor for a second do I believe He enjoys watching us bear it. But I do know that God has purposed and uses all things for His glory and our good. I can say this because I have and continue to walk through it in my daily life. My pain is not the same as yours. I don’t know what you walk through. My heartache is different from yours. I don’t know what’s breaking your heart right now. My insecurities and doubts are not the same as yours. I don’t know what your daily struggles look like. And you don’t have to know or understand all of mine. But I do know what is the same.
Our God.
And while we all experience pain at different levels, for different lengths of time and for different reasons, we all walk through it, and He’s always in it. And I can see how this physical pain has halted my “productivity”, how it’s tripped up my plans. And for so long I fight it, I fight through the pain, the exhaustion and the heartache. There’s a time to fight, and there’s a time to rest. There’s an expectation I think I placed in my mind at the age of eight of what my life as a Christian would like, what Christ looked like.
And I’m here to tell you, He’s not what I expected.
I never expected the adventure He would take me on. I couldn’t expect the community He would surround me with when I couldn’t need it more. I didn’t expect the opportunities He would paint for me to see Him at work in the world around me. I never expected to fall in love with the small prison town of Canon City and its people. I didn’t expect the love for youth He would put on my heart. And I didn’t expect to discover how incredibly weak I am and how astounding His strength is amid it.
The pain I walk through today is different then it was four years ago and yet it’s the same. It’s the same in that some of the obstacles are duplicates of past models. It’s distinct because I’m changed. And I can honestly say I wouldn’t trade the pain (physical, mental or emotional), because it’s shaped me into who I am today. Right now, God is calling me to rest, and my urge to resist and feel guilty and shameful for not showing up to life in every way that others seem to, fights back. It’s forced me to slow down, now more than ever, to not be distracted because I can’t be. And it feels unproductive, it feels unaccomplished.
But you know what I’ve gotten in return from being less productive?
I can love a little harder. I’m a little more grateful for the small things. I’m a little more understanding. I’m a little more empathetic. I understand the value of friendship a little better. I care a little less about what others think. I’m a little more real. I understand a little more of what Christ looks like. And I’m learning (still) that my life isn’t defined by the leaps and bounds, or by a standard of perfection I’ve placed before me.
It’s in the little moments, the repetitive, tiny choices we decide day in and day out. It’s in the little moments, and how a little bit of grace with yourself opens the floodgates of allowing God’s grace to work itself out. And I’m learning it’s Okay to rest. It’s Okay to have grace. It’s Okay to be quiet. It’s Okay even if it doesn’t seem impressive, or productive to the world.
No guilt.
No shame.
Just Him.
There’s freedom in the silence, redemption in the pain, and an abundant amount of joy on the journey. So, when people ask how I’m doing, I say I’m okay. And when they ask how when there’s so much pain, I can say, because I know it’s not my body, it’s not my time, it’s His. And somehow, even though I don’t understand, and it doesn’t ever feel good, because It’s all His,
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