ChangeCourse

Yesterday I posted that I’d be diving this month into what I say vs. how I live, what I believe vs. how I move through the world. I intended to take an un-bossy look at personal integrity for the next 31 days in order to get at deeper Truth that sometimes passes us by. And I thought it could probably be good. Hoped so, at least.

As September filled with back to school and monumental life shifts and another big project requiring my attention, yesterday was the first I’d devoted to this 31 Days series. (Nothing new for me, as last year’s 31 Days of Right Here was very much written “in real time.”)

I sprinkled prayers, spent hours working on a graphic to represent the theme, began to write blog posts and struggled with an inner wrestling. Part of me wanted to do it, but too much of it felt off

Too much me, and not enough God?

It was not unlike the wrestling that kept me up most of Friday night after my first speaking presentation at a women’s retreat where I was the weekend’s presenter. The one that eventually led me to rewrite my second talk and lay down the final one, going a completely different direction than what I’d planned because God told me I could trust him, that his way was ultimately best.

Yesterday afternoon, I spoke to my sister on the phone in the middle of my wrestling match, and she brought the truth, which she does in a clear and loving manner in my life over and over again.

She reminded me of things I said I would be pursuing this year, told me how easily I could just keep getting distracted by one good thing after another, when I might be asked to something different.

After our conversation, I looked back at my journal entry from the morning, a prayer to God, that basically spelled out exactly what she’d said over the phone. It became clear after talking to Michael, too:

This is not the season for me to participate in 31 Days.

If I tell my girls and other women that our plans must be held in cupped hands, that my personal pride and desire to be thought of well is not the most important consideration, that when we lay down our own broken versions of something good-enough, something Better is given room to grow — well, then I’ve got to live it.

It may be that the next 31 days, I’m to walk the ins and outs of this topic with God and not force its shape into the continual telling. I really don’t know.

This month, I will dive into the waters of some long-neglected things. I will pursue paths that feel scary and ripe for rejection. I will be ready to take my plans and surrender them, even if I don’t know why.

I plan to write, but we’ll see what happens.

Thank you for the grace to work out life imperfectly as I go. You never ask me to paint a finished, polished picture, and certainly God does not. He knows my innermost being — strengths and weakness, filled up and needy, whole and broken — and is the One who has made and is making all things new.

I learn to live this resurrection life when I trust God’s leading, and follow. That’s the life I ultimately desire, even if it makes me squirm uncomfortable.

This morning, I read Romans 8 from The Message version:

“This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike ‘What’s next, Papa?’ God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children.”

Yes, Papa. What’s next?

_____________________

FOMS (Fear of Missing Something) is a thing, ya know, so I’ve got some of that, and though I really want to join in with all my 31 Day sisters and brothers, I will be joining in a different way. Reading your beauty, giving you my love. Go, 31 Day’ers, go! I’ll try to provide a roundup of some of my favorite 31 Day series here on the blog soon. In the meantime, if you’re itching to follow along on the journey, head to the 31 Day website and click on one of the many links in a subject area/theme that interests you (some have already piqued my attention big time!) and read along. Love you, friends.

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