rewriting Sundays.

I can’t stand editing. There’s a whole part of writing dedicated to how I didn’t get it right the first time. Just the worst. I don’t think I’m unique in that dislike among writers, but it’s an unfortunate sentiment when editing is so crucial to good writing.

The biggest lesson I had to learn when I started a Master’s in Creative Writing, was that my first drafts wouldn’t be the finished product. It was defeating to me that I couldn’t say well what I wanted on the first go and, spoiler alert: no good writer ever has. Anne Lamott’s encouragement about subpar first attempts has set me free from the paralyzing need to get it right on the first cut.

I know my master's grew me as a writer (you'd hope, right?), but even more so as a person.

How do I embrace/reject/apply feedback? How do I adjust what I had in mind originally for the sake of creating a better story? How do I let go that the first draft will be the final one?

Editing the story is a struggle. Rewriting is uncomfortable, crucial work for a story to unfold with greater clarity in theme and strength in character. Editing is holy sanctification.

Change has been abundant in my life lately, but especially for my Sundays.

This summer was the first time I went to church as an adult without a role. Since high school, I’ve been leading, teaching, singing, directing something on Sundays.

When I left what I thought would be my career-long Call just over five years ago, there was a contrast in size and setting of worship, but I didn’t go longer than a couple weeks before I jumped in at the WHEREhouse Church. I didn’t have time to miss leading. (I probably also didn’t have time rest and heal, but that’s another blog post..or 10).

In May, the WHEREhouse, our sweet family church, closed.
My summer was consumed with a move, research and thesis work, and a youth gathering.
Just as I was looking forward to post-thesis free time to spend with them, some of my best friends took a new Call in Texas.

As the new school year kicked back in, it's hit me that I’ve not taken time in the running to jump stop and get my footing amidst the dizzying change. To hold up what was and what is like the "find what's different" pictures. The "then and now" of Sundays seem like starkly different pictures.

When I left my last Call, I no longer had to wake up at ungodly hours to be at church. For weeks, I woke up startled I overslept. The WHEREhouse met in the afternoon, so I don’t have that problem. ;-) But the rhythm I’ve known is broken. It’s different. It will never be that community in that place at that time again. It's good to just name and know that no church, no Sunday, will ever be that.

The same is true for evolving friend group(s) over the past few years where I've got to cheer several to new cities, jobs, and marriages, while experiencing really painful goodbyes of sweet seasons I knew were over and never coming back.

When the WHEREhouse closed, two dear friends gave me unsolicited encouragement that the next role I needed to serve in the church was “backrow pew sitter.” I am grateful for friends who boldly love me like that; wisely seeing what I need in disorientating change and giving me permission to stop to get my bearings. It’s foreign and risky to not have a role when that’s been the only identity I’ve known for almost two decades.

While I acknowledge there is a list of losses to grieve on this Sunday—and you should know that I haven’t made it through many Sunday services since May without tears...these edits are painful and overwhelming at times—I find myself asking the question that has drawn me through a myriad of relational and vocational changes:

God, what are you making room for?

And then I plead with Him to help me not miss it, to miss hope, as I loathe this season of editing and new changes in the story line I became accustomed to.

A pastor friend stopped by my office a few weeks ago to ask how I was doing, as he dropped his shoulders in commiseration of our wonderful friends moving out of state. I thanked him for thinking of me.

“Ya know,” I said, “the Lord and I have had a lot of chats lately about how it seems like everything is changing. But the more I’ve prayed and thought about it, I think this is just the way life is now. Just lots of changes and we have to ask for help in coping with it.”

He nodded and chuckled in understanding. It’s probably true.

Perpetual change. Recurring loss. Endless editing.

I smile thinking of our theme of the year at Concordia that just so happens to be, “In Christ, A New Creation,” from 2 Corinthians 5:17 which says, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”

What a gift to have this reminder all year long – a reflection of Isaiah 43:19: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

I can struggle at this pivot, thinking the old way was just fine, thank-you-very-much, and I had found something that resembled control in that old order that I feel like I've lost.

It’s easy for me to cling to familiar stagnation or even dysfunction over the unknown and potentially painful new growth, health, and opportunity.

So on a day like today, instead of wishing for what isn’t, I ask God to help me wonder instead.

I wonder what God has in mind for what’s ahead--trusting His editing is a good and kind idea--and giving thanks for what I see Him doing now.
I see His provision in the present and it helps me trust that He hasn’t forgotten me.
Like this new home I was hesitant to consider (having a roommate in my 30s was not in the first draft, but a holy edit, no doubt).
Like the friend who invited me to an understated church that I probably wouldn’t have attended otherwise which has become an unexpected safe haven for pew-sitting, to simply rest in receiving communion and great teaching.

After the way-earlier-than-I-would-choose worship service today, my friend asked, “so what are you going to do with the rest of your Sunday?”
I shrugged smiling. “I don’t know! Maybe read a book…for fun?”

This Sunday of no obligation has had room for laundry and football and baseball and reading and now even some space for writing.

God has made room. Jesus is the best there is at holy, redemptive, editing. Though letting go and being open to edits can be painful, He is writing and rewriting more and more glimpses of Eden into our stories with every draft. With every reading of His Word. Every taste of the bread and wine. Every word confessed and absolved. He is editing Eden into our stories.

God has made room. He’s doing something new and it’s unnerving to not know how to fill the space. Or, better yet, to be content in resting and working faithfully right where I am, while waiting to see what He wants to add as I seek His Kingdom.

Editing can be grueling. Slow. Disorienting. Painful. Ever battling the temptation to just give up.
But in the edits, I am slowly learning acceptance, contentment, and even gratitude--singing to myself "Oh, Thou who changest not abide with me"--as He is rewriting Sundays.

writing on the hard days: beautiful things in his time.

Creativity is an overflowing of life for me.  And when I “don’t feel like it,” it’s difficult to create, to design, to write.  I love writing.  More and more all the time it seems.  But on hard days, it’s a struggle to get there.

I don’t want to remember the junk and frankly, I think people have enough of that to read and deal with in life. 

***

Last week, God showed me something amazing.  It’s like He was letting me in on a backstage tour of some of His recent top-notch work.

I had coffee with a friend who was visiting from out of town.  It’d been awhile since I’d seen her and I was thrilled to meet her new little baby girl.  As I held this sweet angel in my arms, I looked up at her mama and reminded her where we were a year prior.  Just months before, we were pleading with the Lord to bless her family with another child.  Our eyes filled with tears just thinking about what God did in a year!  Beautiful things in His time.

Later that day, a dear friend called me to let me know she was engaged!  I knew it was coming and was so happy to celebrate with her.  She’s a long-time friend whom I’ve had the wonderful privilege of walking with through the ups and downs, the uncertainties and unknowns of life.  And we, too, had a moment of remembering the transformation of the past year and what God had done in her story in such a short time.

God delights in redeeming stories; in working things out in ways we could never ask for or even imagine.  (Eph. 3:20-21)  I loved how He let me watch that happen and made sure I noticed His mighty work of the past year, twice in one day.

***

After some days of not writing, I presented my struggle to the Lord in a conversation of prayer.

He said this: “I want you to write on the hard days.”

“Really?!  Why?” I reply.  “I don’t want to remember this or stay in this place.  I don’t want people to think this is who I am.  I just want things to be different.”

“That’s just the point.”  I imagined Him saying it with a smile.

“I want you to write on the hard days.  Remember the struggle and ache.  Remember all of the things you’ve laid before me in the midst of your hurt.  Remember that I'm there, reminding you of My love and promises; that my faithfulness is unwavering through difficulty.  Remember just where you are today, so when I’ve redeemed this day in your life and further unfolded your story, you will be able to look back with the deepest sense of awe and gratitude about what I’ve done.  You’ll be able to look back and be amazed at how I made everything beautiful in its time.  Just as I’m promising you, today, that I will.  Write about your hard days, so you can see just how I unveil my redemption in ways unexpected and in a time unknown.  Write today, so that a year from now, you will be able to see my beautifully creative work reshaping and guiding your story.  You’ll see how I’ve been working behind the scenes.  The more you trust Me, the more you will be different.  You won’t be in this same place when you look back.  This is your before picture, so you can more fully praise Me for what you see after.”

I know that sin runs too deep for hard days not to exist and that the resurrection of Christ is way too big for better days not to come.  So today, trusting that God’s living and active promises are bigger than what I see and feel in this moment, I write.

new (original) song: I wait.

Well, it's not Bethany Dillon's EP, but creativity begets creativity and I was way overdue for some creative outlet.  A very rough first recording of my newest creation...

I Wait

guarded.

I've settled in at my favorite coffee shop on two different occasions to write this post.  I have started writing probably more than 10 times.  Chai latte at my hand and Derek Webb's Feeback in my ears.  It's the perfect combination of no lyrics and upbeat driving rhythms--perfect for keeping this girl engaged and on task, but not distracted with another set of words in my head.  Regardless of my seemingly ideal conditions for writing, half of my attempts failed because I had ideas that fell flat once I began typing.  They began falling so flat, in fact, that I gave up and decided to try it again another day.  So here I am.  Round 2 with another cup of Chai and Mr. Webb serenading me once again.  Round 2 has provided the second half of failed attempts due to interruptions from Facebook chat.  Seriously.  Every time I turned on the first track to Feedback and pulled up the blank window, I'd hear that intrusive ding.  Yeah, yeah, I know.   Turn it off, right?  That's what I did after time number 5.  I'm a slow learner.  My nights aren't usually so eventful, I promise you.  So here I am.  Uninterrupted and without distraction...except, of course, by my delicious warm beverage on this snowy night...trying to write.  All that to say, this preamble to my entry only affirms what I'm about to write.

We are flooded.  Flailing, drowning even, in the amount of audio, visual, technological, emotional, and every other kind of -al stimuli you can think of.  We are flooded.  I have been trying to do a lot of creative planning and thinking for work since I've returned from Nicaragua and it has been grueling.  I LOVE doing this kind of work, mind you.  It's just been such a struggle to focus on the task at hand and stick with it.  Going from a place where I didn't have my phone or computer for 2 weeks and the only things I had to read were my Bible and an extra book for fun.  I didn't have a hundred tasks at hand that needed to be juggled, but just a few things each day that had to be done and would be.  My mind was a million miles from anything here.  It was attentive to the time and space that I inhabited and I felt simple.  A good simple.  No worries to muck up my mind.  I wasn't overthinking anything.  We ate 3 times a day, played with kids, rode in a truck, played some games.  As we were making our final descent back into MSP, I lamented to my friend about getting my phone back once we landed and once again being plugged in.  I went on about how nice it was to talk to people in person have that simplicity that Nica had to offer us.  He simply said, "you don't have to leave it there."

He was right.  So I come back struggling for simplicity and realize that I'm the one allowing complexity.  Yes, there are some complexities we have in order to function within our society.  It's the way it works.  However, me feeling invaded by the complexity of culture, technology, and social stimuli is because I've allowed them to do just that.

Proverbs 4 says: "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."

Maybe I'm taking this too far, but I think we (mostly speaking to me) need to be aware of and proactive about the things we're exposing our hearts to.  When my computer screen has taken the place of my Bible as the first thing that greets me in the morning and the thing that tucks me in at night, my heart isn't guarded.  When I allow and partake in talking about others in a way that's not uplifting, I'm not guarding my heart.  When I allow myself to go on another shopping spree for new clothes because I'm bored or think it'll make me look and feel better, I'm not guarding my heart.  What's the hole in your fence?  Where do you need a shield?  I need lots of them at the moment.

It's funny, I am a notorious wall builder when it comes to most things.  I'm one who likes to keep people at an arms' length.  I have walls that atomic bombs could only dent.  However, something about the world can become so appealing and before I know it, I'm overcome.  It's too late to simply "unplug" or tell the world to back off.  I'm sinking.

That's so like us, right?  Trying hard to hold it together and show the world that we're strong and really, the world sees that we're full of it and drowning.  But Jesus.  He's close at hand.  Scripture calls God our refuge, our fortress (Ps. 46), our light, our salvation, our stronghold (Ps. 27), our rescue, One who is Mighty to Save (Zeph. 3).


When we haven't guarded in our own hearts, when we haven't turned our ears only to what God is saying to us, when we haven't been attuned to where God is guiding us next, when we are perishing in the noise that surrounds us in our earthly wait, HE becomes our guard.

"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

Thank you, Jesus, for doing things we can't do in ways we can't understand.  Forgive us for handing our hearts over to this world.  Fill us with Your truth.  Wrap us in Your promises.  Guard us as we wait on earth.  Guard us as we wait for You.  Amen.