A Christmas Message for the Weary Plate-Spinners

I grumbled not so under my breath as I scraped wilted bits of lettuce and bread crumbs from my freshly cleaned countertops. In theory, it’s the season of goodwill and giving. In my heart, not so much. Such is the life of a mother come holiday season. Even during a pandemic, the calendar somehow swells with busy-ness. New tasks materialize as soon as old ones are ticked off. And people still require dinner, even though it’s December.

By nature, I am a helper. I am empathetic and relational, but I don’t need to be needed, which may sound like a contradiction. I’m simply saying that if there are needs I can meet, I will. If someone in my midst is anxious, if there’s a problem I can fix or relief I can offer, I will gladly and instinctively do it. I will gladly and instinctively do it until I suddenly hit a wall from all the glad and instinctive doing of things.

In the last couple of weeks, I have repeatedly run up against the wall.

If you run a home, if you have a job, if you have a partner and / or children, each day can feel like being CEO of a Needs Factory. The holidays mean overtime but with no extra pay. Which means that on a December Tuesday, you may forget to pick up your youngest from school (hypothetically speaking, of course), a task you do every day without fail. You may forget the child because your brain is at capacity from All The Needs And Details Of Your Life And Everyone Else’s.

Unlike a real CEO, you cannot simply quit and walk away with a severance package. You have to keep showing up—remembering the appointments, fixing the meals, planning ahead, wiping the counters, spinning all the plates.

Sometimes we may technically keep the plates from breaking. But in the process, we break the hearts of those around us. As we survey the carnage of our loveless service, our own hearts break too.

On a crisp Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago, with our camping chairs perched atop dewy earth for outdoor church, it hit me that I wake up each morning as if on a throne, a sovereign who wants to rule over my own life and the lives of others. A VIP who wants to be served in ways that matter to me instead of serving in unseen, mundane ways. Enough with the daily tasks! Enough with the muck and mayhem of making a life!

As God opened my eyes to the condition of my heart, I was able to climb down from my throne and make amends with the people I live with before we ate Sunday lunch. Though I had met their physical needs during the week, I’d stomped on their hearts with my words and short temper in the process.

It is Christmas, the time of year Christians celebrate the unfathomable reality that a king left his throne to live among a needy people. A servant king who traded his royal robes for swaddling clothes. A humble king who folded himself into a mother’s womb and quietly entered the world to love us and to meet our ultimate needs. .

Christmas invites us to remember that the God of the universe came to unfold himself within us, to make us his home. By the power of his love and leading, we can let go and unfold ourselves into the lives of others, making a softer home in this world for those around us. He is the true gift that somehow keeps on giving through us.

From one weary soul living in a weary world to another, I want to remind you that visibility does not equal significance. Every counter you wipe, every dish you rinse, every word of consolation you offer, every meal you prepare, every ribbon you curl, every prayer you offer on behalf of another—it all matters.

We can continually serve and love because we were first served and loved by a king who stooped low and came to live among us, a fussy and desperate people whose needs never end.

As you unfold yourself into the daily lives of those you around you this Christmas week, may Christ himself bring you peace and perseverance.

He loves you.

And He loves through you.

Merry Christmas, friends.

“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” 2 Corinthians 8:9

When You’re Carrying Something That No One Can See: Christmas Hope for Weary Souls

…because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ~ Matthew 1:20b

It was the second Sunday of Advent and these words leapt from the passage and lodged in my spirit.

I could not shake them.

As my children squirmed in their church seats and rifled through my bag for gum and pens, God whispered his attribute to my walled-off heart:

I am a God who conceives unthinkable things.

Within the virgin womb of an ordinary Jewish girl, the most divine alchemy swirled with light and life infused by the Holy Spirit.

It’s December. I am worn out and wrung out. God whispers truth about himself and about me:

Marian, I am a God who conceives things. This is not simply who I was at a single point in history. It is who I am and will always be. It is what I do within those who I have called for divine purposes. But you must yield to it.

I thought more closely about the order of things in Mary’s life, scribbling notes and arrows on my worship folder.

The Holy Spirit — > conception — > surrender — > carrying that which no one can see — > labor / pain — > new life — > death — > redemption

I whisper back:

God, what have you conceived in me that I have not yet surrendered to? In what ways must I yield?

And I know what it is. I know what I carry that no one can see.

I long to carry something different and God says no.

This is what I have conceived in you. Will you carry it? Will you labor under this burden and choose to receive it as a blessing? Will you trust that there is life and death and redemption on the other side?

As I write this post, my lip quivers. I do not want to say yes.

In his book, Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning says this about people, pain, and purpose:

Anyone God uses significantly is always deeply wounded…On the last day, Jesus will look us over not for medals, diplomas, or honors, but for scars.

My view of humanity is limited; I can’t possibly match up each person that God has significantly used with a corresponding deep woundedness. But I know there is truth to what Manning says.

I know that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. I know that pain humbles us and that wounds make us real.

I’m not looking to be a person of great significance in the kingdom of God. The older I get, the more uncomfortable I am with attention. But I long to be a meaningful part of God’s work here on earth. I don’t want my story, my labor, or my scars to be wasted.

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Mary didn’t have to say yes.

We’re not robots. God entrusts us with choices even within the mystery of sovereign will. He invited her to be part of his work and she said yes.

And aren’t we glad that she, like Jesus, yielded to her Father’s will instead of surrendering to her own rightful agenda?

Her yes gave birth to the light and life of the world. This is why we sing songs of rejoicing at Christmas.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.

We don’t rejoice because all is right with the world —

We don’t rejoice because life has gone as we’d hoped —

We don’t rejoice because we have a robust college fund for our kids —

We don’t rejoice because we have a marriage that’s easy —

We don’t rejoice because we have jobs that are well-paying and secure —

We rejoice because we are a weary and wounded people but we are not abandoned in this state.

Perhaps you’re carrying a hard and heavy thing you never asked to conceive, much less labor under.

But what if we see our heavy thing as a privilege instead of a weight?

What if we choose trusting instead of fighting?

What if we choose the mindset of freedom instead of bondage — freedom to die to our expectations and even our desires because we trust in a greater purpose?

Mary died to reputation, to convention, to logic, to self, to a comfortable path. She was forced to flee while pregnant and birthed her baby in a crude and humble dwelling. Her newborn child slept in a feeding trough for animals. Who would choose that?

No one.

But with a posture of humility and trust, she yielded to a divine purpose she couldn’t actually see. As she received the unthinkable realities of her own life, she simultaneously received the glorious hope that waited on the other side.

I am the Lord’s servant…may your word to me be fulfilled.

Death always precedes redemption.

Right now I’m wrestling with a sort of death, clenching tightly to fear, to desire, to doubt, and to my own logical solutions instead of placing my big self aside and submitting to the will of the Father.

If you’re in the same place, may the story of Christ comfort us and lead us as we wait for a miracle. May we receive our own lives with trust and hope this Christmas.

That which is conceived in you, though it feels unwelcome, may actually be destined for fullness of life.

You may also enjoy:

Why Compassion is the Answer to a Messy Christmas

Why You Really Are Prepared for Christmas, Even if You’re Not

The Key to Finding Peace and Purpose Right Where You Are (and a wearable reminder to receive your right-now life, even as you wait with hope)

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New here? I’m all about helping you recapture the possibility of your right-now life.

If that sounds like something you need, sign up in the box below to receive fresh hope and possibility delivered to your inbox.

The Key to Finding Peace and Purpose Right Where You Are

Is your right-now season one of struggle or overwhelm?

Are you in a place of upheaval or interruption?

Has God given you challenging or complicated people to love and serve?

Is your right-now work a far cry from your hoped-for work?

Always, you have a choice. Receive? Or refuse? Clench your fists? Or open your hands?

God meets you here, at the intersection of the right-now and the hoped-for. He has gifts for you unwrap, no matter how barren or chaotic things feel.

The gift of acceptance, which gives way to peace.
The gift of surrender, which gives way to trust.
The gift of laughter, which gives way to not taking yourself so seriously.
The gift of patience, which gives way to perseverance.
The gift of his presence, which gives way to joy and gratitude in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

But first, you have to receive. You have to relax your grip, give up your (illusion of) control, and let go of your agenda.

Receive your own life.

This is the key to living in the tension between your actual life and your hoped-for life.

Every choice to receive is a two-fold opportunity:

To reject your limited view of how life should go.

AND

To receive the grace and unexpected gifts that comes with surrender, trust, and hope.

I’ve lived through heartbreaking seasons where the unknowns stacked so high, I couldn’t see to take the next step. And I’ve lived through regular ol’ frustrating days of circumstances and people that conspired against my perfectly acceptable agenda.

Whether your current season feels broken in an extreme way or messy in a normal way, I’m learning (still) that “receiving your own life” is the key to finding peace and purpose right where you are.

I’m also learning that the broken stories we receive can one day shine with the beauty of redemption. (But that’s a message for another time.)

I’m offering a little something to wear as a reminder to receive.

I’m so happy to offer these hand-stamped key necklaces with the word “Receive.” A sweet reminder for you or for someone you love who’s in a season or situation of struggle, of waiting, of hopeful expectation. It could also be for someone struggling to receive a time of rest or respite. Pain isn’t the only thing we learn to receive. When life has brought long seasons of struggle, receiving blessing can feel counterintuitive, even wrong. In the same way we learn to receive the unwanted gifts, we must also learn to receive God’s heart of abundance for us.

Here are the details:

You can order by clicking this link.
Brass + hand-stamped + 14” drop / 2” key
Comes with a “Receive” printable so you can give the necklace as a gift without someone saying, “What a weird word to put on a necklace!”

Limited supply. Shop will be open through Monday, December 10th or until they’re sold.
$20 shipped

Thanks for embracing this message with and supporting this little holiday pop-up shop! Feel free to leave any questions in the comments section.

Get your receive necklace here.

Choosing Your Absence from Something You Love: 5 Things I’m Learning

Five posts into writing a blog series I loved in early 2018, “The Sacred Art of Receiving Your Right-Now Life,” I found myself drowning in a sea of very normal roles and responsibilities. I’ve been living out the message of that series in real time instead of writing it down and hitting the “publish” button like I’d planned.

There was nothing crisis-like or dramatic about any of it, only that all the things conspired against my writing all at the same time. Or at least that’s how it felt.

Married with three children
I have a job, but it’s not full time.
And because it’s not full-time, a year ago I also took on a couple of freelance jobs that became triple the work of what I expected. (Lesson learned.)
My kids were doing all of their kid things. Two of them are teenagers, which means there’s no end to the shenanigans (and maternal angst.)
From February until the end of school, I lived in constant stress. Then summer and working from home with kids. Bless it.
After nearly 20 years of teaching Economics to college students, my husband began a brand new career last August. We’re grateful and excited; it’s such a good fit for him. But it’s meant long hours, working on Saturdays, and yours truly filling in the gaps. It won’t always be like this, but building a business requires a great deal of heart and hustle (and uncertainty.)
Also? Our girl graduates from high school in less than 8 weeks, and this year has stretched each of us in ways we couldn’t have known ahead of time.

Guys, I’m tired.

But do you see what I mean? These are normal things, good things. Every role and responsibility I have means that I’ve been entrusted with gifts and people and opportunities to nurture and steward. But good things still come with hardship.

Which brings me to the first thing I’m learning during a season of living my stories instead of writing them down:

1. Too many good things at the same time are still too many things.

Sometimes we can’t help it. Sometimes we really are at the mercy of season and circumstance. But sometimes we let too many things in during a season that’s already sagging under the weight of all the good things.

Like a generous host throwing a grand party, we leave the door open and the lovely guests keep filing in, champagne glasses held high in celebration. Next thing you know, the floor has collapsed under the weight of this fine party. Here’s the part where I chuckle because this exact thing literally happened last year in the town where I live. It’s fine. No one was seriously injured. It’s a metaphor that works, is what I’m saying.

2. Life right now is much more about managing my energy than managing my time.

I’ve only fully realized this over the last several months and guys, it’s a game-changer. Busy as I am, I have actual time on my hands. We all do if we’re brutally honest. What I don’t have leftover is energy. And the things I really miss (like regular writing) require a mental and emotional energy that’s currently taken up by other required roles and responsibilities.

Once I realized this, I was able to let go of some of the guilt and striving, and replace it with grace and acceptance. I’m still sad about it. But all of my brain power and emotional reserves are currently spoken for. (See #4 if you want to know where it’s going.)

3. Structure is my friend.

A lot of us struggle with doing tasks that we don’t feel like doing. We procrastinate, distract ourselves, and make excuses. I have a friend who’s currently writing a book. As in, she’s under contract to write a book. One morning she texted me, “Haven’t gotten one word down on paper this morning but my hair and make-up look exceptionally good.” I laughed so hard because THIS IS WHAT WE DO.

And some of us struggle more than others. (Ahem, it’s me.) Add to this equation that I work mostly from home, which means it’s easy for work tasks and mom / wife / home / life tasks to bleed together into an existence where I always feel “on” and never “off.” My brain is in a constant state of whiplash from switching back and forth between vastly different roles and tasks.

“Enough,” I said to myself in January. “You are a grown-up and you can do this differently.”

Now I try to have three days a week when I work full-time and two days a week that are for my other “job,” the one where I plan the meals, get the groceries, run the errands, fill out the paperwork, email the teachers and coaches, decipher FAFSA forms, do the laundry, (take a nap,) etc.

We’re all different but my brain works better when it has a long runway in the same direction. I’m more efficient with the work I do for my job when my brain gets in that zone and can just stay there for hours. The same is true for domestic life. It only makes sense to structure life in accordance with how my brain works. It’s required all sorts of rearranging and it will never be a perfect system, but it’s given me a renewed sense of hope that I can get through this season with a measure of wholeness and stability.

I can’t stress enough that this doesn’t always work perfectly. The last few weeks my rhythms have been off and I’ve had to accept it. But each week I begin again and ask for grace. Always, I try to hold it loosely.

(If you’d like to learn more about this, I highly recommend this podcast episode by Emily P. Freeman: Design a Rhythm of Work — Theme Days!)

4. If you’re living in a pivotal life season, even one that’s not a crisis, it will take up more space in your head and heart than you realize.

No one can tell you what it’s like during the last year before your child becomes, in theory, an adult.

And just like that, the tears start flowing. (I was doing fine until now.)

I recently told a friend that I feel a low-grade sadness all the time. I miss this girl of mine already and she hasn’t even gone anywhere yet.

I think it’s because of this. When you hold that baby in your arms, 18 years feels like a very long time. It’s overwhelming, how long 18 years seems when you’re on the front end. But here we are. Though I hope and pray that our relationship will be always be close, that I’ll always be a trusted voice in her life, I know that most of the formative work is done. It is sobering beyond words, partly because I see all that I did wrong, all that I omitted, all that I didn’t know and now I do.

It’s also this. Senior year means we’re all living in the tension between a child still being under our roof and soon not being under our roof. Giving as much freedom as possible within boundaries is messy. It looks different for every child and it may exhaust you like nobody’s business.

Back in October, I drew up a “Senior Syllabus,” something we could all refer to throughout the twists and turns of this year. Sure, it’s been somewhat helpful but the truth is, there’s no real guidebook for this. We’re all simply making our way one day at a time. I pray a lot and I process it with a couple of trusted people in my life. I probably need to have a good cry or ten but I’m afraid that if I give myself permission to do that, I won’t crawl out of the corner for days.

5. Sometimes you have to choose your absence from the thing you love most.

Because there are people you love more.

For me, that thing has been my own writing. Again, it’s not that I don’t have leftover time. Monday I spent six hours of my day writing and editing content for my job. By 8 pm, I had no mental energy left, even though I didn’t go to bed for another two and a half hours. Sure, I could have come downstairs to my desk for personal writing time, but with what brain-power? (See point #2.)

Five-ish years ago I read a little book called Crazy Busy by Kevin DeYoung. He said many wise and timely things but here’s the phrase that’s stayed with me.

We must choose our absence, our inability, and our ignorance – and choose wisely. The sooner we embrace this finitude, the sooner we can be free.

In the last year, I’ve said no to speaking engagements that would have brought much personal joy and fulfillment. I said no to teaching a periodic class, even though I miss teaching and would have loved it. I turned down additional freelance work even though the money was good.

And I’ve said no to regular writing and publishing my own words, for now, because it requires energy and intention I need to save for other things. Yes, it’s life-giving and makes me feel most like myself. And yes, this joy has a way of spilling over into my everyday life. But I tend to run after this joy, this work of my heart, with too much gusto, leaving my people in the wake. Though I desperately want to learn how to curb my own ambition and enthusiasm, I’m not there yet. And this high-stakes season is simply too precious and fragile to risk.

Even though I have so much to share with you.

I’ve been storing up posts and ideas in very organized and professional ways–scattered Word docs on my computer, iPhone notes, even an entire book I’ve outlined in a spiral notebook. I started it two years ago and I keep scribbling in it. I also want to write about teenagers–about daughters and about sons. I want to write about acceptance, doubt, everyday faith, and how the life of Christ has everything to teach us about receiving our right-now lives, even as we wait with hope.

If you’re in a similar season of working, of waiting, of wondering if “your time” will ever come around, know that you’re in good company. And that company isn’t just me. It’s Jesus.

One of the things I’ve learned from studying his life is that God’s timing for our work is perfect, and that Christ himself is with us as we labor–whether it’s scrubbing the dishes (what I’m doing after I finish this,) helping with an overwhelming research paper on Macroeconomics and The Great Recession (what I’m doing after I finish the dishes #LordBeNear,) or being diligent in the work you’ve been paid to do (what I’m doing after I finish those other two things.)

As I labor in everyday ways, I invite Jesus, the one who filled the nets of his weary working friends with fish, helped them cook it up for breakfast, and then offered them a feast on the beach. This is his heart for us. He meets us as we struggle with discouragement, fatigue, and lack. He cares about all of our work, and delights to show up alongside us with compassion, grace, and sometimes a feast. (John 21:1-14)

Whatever season you’re in, I pray you will experience Christ’s presence with you, and know his heart of abundance for you.

Thanks for being here. (And for reading all the words. I sure know how to make up for lost time.)

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I do post on Instagram pretty regularly @marianvischer. It’s a little bit of personal life (think college visits + laughable school projects + how I redid my kitchen backsplash with stickers,) a little bit of writing, a little bit of everyday beauty. In the last year I’ve enjoyed writing a couple of series there.

10 Things to Tell You Series last September, hosted by Laura Tremaine. Here’s a link to the first post in that series.

12-Day Series with Hopewriters in January. Here’s a link to the first post in that series.

When I do publish here, or if you’d like to stay in the loop with news I only share with subscribers, sign up in the email box and you’ll be the first to know all the things. : )

The subscribe box is below this post or on the right if you’re reading on a computer. If you’re reading on a phone, scroll way down to the “Yes, Please” box underneath my photo.

5 Real Ways to Practice Self-Care in Your Crazy, Right-Now Life {that cost zero dollars}

What does it look like to receive your right-now life just as it is and not how you want it to be?

What does it look like to receive this season of work you wish you didn’t have to do? What does it look like to receive this season of parenting? Of marriage? Of income? Of keeping so many plates spinning, you’re positively dizzy?

That’s been the purpose of this series — to encourage your soul in the midst of your right-now season and to provide you with practical tips to make the “receiving” a little bit easier.

We’ve talked about feeding your soul — why it matters and how to do it. And we’ve talked about why self-care matters, especially if you want to live a life defined by love.

Today, we’re getting super practical about everyday self-care and I’m reporting to you directly from the trenches. I’ve taken on too much work in the middle of a family season that also’s a bit too much. I feel stretched in every way and have had to accept that I’ll be a little bonkers until the end of the school year.

When life looks like this, we can proceed with fists clenched or we can proceed with palms open, receiving this season for what it is and opening our hearts to the ways God wants to love us, provide for us, and gently teach us.

One of the ways He provides is through opening my eyes to “everyday self-care.” I’m not talking about massages and pedicures. I’m talking about daily rhythms and practices that help us to care for ourselves so that we can receive our right-now season of life (craziness and all) and better love those around us.

Here are 5 real-life ways you too can practice everyday self-care:

1. Do normal things slowly and with care.

During the holidays I listened to this podcast on self-care from The Lazy Genius. She talked about slowing down when you wash your face at night. And so I did.

You guys, do you realize that you don’t have to hurry when you wash your face? You can take the time to massage the cleanser into your skin, to slowly rinse your face with care, to gently pat your moisturizer onto your face. It turns a daily chore into a loving ritual. I feel like it helps to calm my brain and my body before bedtime.

I now do the same thing when I wash my hair, massaging my scalp with my fingertips in the same way my sweet hairdresser does. Why have we not being treating ourselves to these daily luxuries?

If you had a friend who was struggling in some way, who needed your help to wash her face or hair, how would you care for her? Gently and with tenderness. Care for yourself in the kind way you would care for a friend. (I’ll say this a lot.)

Whether it’s a long shower at the end of the day, a warm bath instead of scrolling through Facebook, or washing your dishes slowly in a sudsy sink of hot water, the possibility of daily luxury is all around you. Treat yourself.

2. Kick hurry to the curb.

A couple of months ago I went to the grocery store mid-morning. It was a rare day of not having a super pressing agenda, so I gifted myself a latte from the in-store Starbucks and took my time through the aisles. Over and over, I said to myself: “Slow down. There is no need to rush.”

After I checked out and loaded my groceries into the car, I felt strangely relaxed and peaceful. Slowing down and sipping coffee had somehow turned a regular chore into a treat. I considered how I’m constantly in a hurry, even when I don’t have to be.

I realize we don’t always have that luxury. You may have small children who accompany you everywhere or you’re squeezing in a grocery run before school pick-up. But when you’re doing a regular chore and you don’t have to hurry, be kind to yourself and value slowness over productivity. When I slow my pace and my mind, it’s as if anxiety runs out of gas and stalls, leaving me with a rare sense of calm.

As I’ve considered the life of Christ, I’ve noticed that he was never in a rush. We tend to assume this was a cultural state of mind, yet there are so many stories in Scripture of those around him hurrying and scurrying, frantic and panicked about all sorts of things. But Jesus never responded with hurry or stress, which tells me that’s not his intention for us either.

He is a God of peace and he calls us to be people of peace — in our inner lives and in the world around us. How can we be instruments of peace if we remain in a state of hurry and stress?

When a season of life is extra crazy, when we are struggling to receive it because we just want to get to the other side, hurry may be our default but it’s not our friend. Stressful seasons are the most important times to weave rhythms of slowness into our days.

3. Live within your means.

I don’t mean in a financial sense, though that totally applies. I’m referring to your energy level, your mental and emotional state, your relationships, your calendar, your commitments, your current season.

In my next post, I’ll tell you about an entire year of rest I had to take about 6 years ago. The reasons are long are complicated but a big part of the equation was my refusal, for years on end, to honor my own limitations. I was spinning my wheels in good, but misplaced directions.

I wasn’t the only one who paid for it. For a long season of recovery, I had little to give anyone. When we don’t honor our God-given limitations, we will eventually fall apart, making it impossible to live a life defined by love.

{For more on this topic of honoring our limitations, see my last post: The Secret to Practicing Self-Care in Your Crazy, Right-Now Life.}

If your right-now life feels bananas, if you’re living beyond your means but you can’t take anything off your plate {it happens}, choose not to add anything else to it. Finish what you must and then resolve to move forward with intention. In the words of St. Benedict, “Always we begin again.”

4. Work with what you have, right where you are.

There is a holy hush that comes over my mind and soul when I quit wrestling and simply receive what is mine with gratitude. This applies to everything from my home and possessions, to the opportunities I have…and don’t have.

This series I’m writing, while precious to me, has unfolded far more slowly than I planned. I have had to honor my limitations in the form of time and energy, which means I write in the smallest slivers of my full schedule and publish less often. I worry that I’m losing momentum and my writing skills, that people won’t keep reading, that the deep longings I have to encourage others as I write from my own heart will go unmet and unblessed. When I look around and see writers passing me by, it’s easy to lose heart, to panic, to throw in the towel.

This verse comforts me:

Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:5-6 (NIV)

Living a “limitless” life is not the goal. Notice that the psalmist is thanking God for boundary lines. Our good Father knows what we truly need and what we don’t. He alone is our portion and our provider. We can trust him with the limitations he’s placed in our lives, knowing that they provide protection or perhaps just a necessary pause.

We waste precious mental and emotional energy comparing our lives to others. We cannot simultaneously reach for what is not ours and receive what is ours. We can only do one or the other.

5. Feed yourself.

I’m talking about spiritual food and actual food. When our lives are especially crazy, we tend to neglect the most basic necessities, like nourishment.

As I said in an earlier post of this series, we can get a little crazy when we don’t eat. We lose all perspective. We despair. We cry. We don’t think or feel or act as we should. We act like young children with low blood sugar.

When I began to see Scripture as my food, it changed everything. It helped me prioritize time with God in his word, not merely as a spiritual discipline but as the daily sustenance I desperately needed.

The same is true for the actual food we eat. I love this illustration from Anne Lamott on teaching others to feed themselves in the same way they’d feed their beloved pastor if invited over for lunch or dinner:

They wouldn’t say, ‘Here Pastor, let’s eat standing up in the kitchen. This tube of barbecue Pringles is all for you. I have my own,’ and then stand there gobbling from their own tubular container.
No, they’d get out pretty dishes, and arrange wonderful foods on the plates, and set one plate before Veronica at the table, a plate filled with love, pride and connection. That’s what we have longed for, our whole lives, and get to create. From, A Few Quick Thoughts on That Diet You Are About to Fail

A couple of weeks ago my energy level was so low, I felt chronically sleepy and overwhelmed. How in the world was I going to do all the work set before me when all I wanted to do was nap? I couldn’t abandon my responsibilities or stop being a wife or leave my children as orphans. And even though I knew this commitment level would only be for a season, I still had to get through it.

As a last resort, I switched up my eating for this season I’m in, prioritizing my own nourishment. The details don’t matter because we’re all different in the ways we need to eat, but I will say this. As Anne Lamott advises, feed yourself with the care and intention you would employ if you were having your pastor or dear friend over for a meal.

The way you nourish yourself matters. Within a few days of making the changes I knew I needed to make, enough energy has returned for me to (hopefully) meet the daily demands of my current season. It’s impossible to receive your own life if you’re not feeding yourself in the most basic ways.

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And on that note, let’s take a break and enjoy a snack. : )

Because I have more real-life tips for practicing self-care in your crazy, right-now life, there will be a Part 2 of this segment on everyday self-care. In the meantime, what practices would you like to begin implementing in your own life?

I’ll leave you with my favorite quote on self-care:

I have become clear about at least one thing: self-care is never a selfish act–it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give it the care it requires, we do so not only for ourselves but for the many others whose lives we touch. ~ Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

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If this series sounds like something you need, all you have to do is subscribe to this online space. (You can do that in the box below this post.) If you’re already subscribed, yay! You’ll automatically receive it. The series is totally free.

Simply come and receive.

Whenever the latest installment of the series is published, you’ll be the first to know and you won’t miss a post.

The Secret to Practicing Self-Care in Your Crazy, Right-Now Life

Do you ever feel like certain seasons are defined by weariness?

the mental and physical weariness of your own everyday life
the emotional weariness of living in a cruel and tragic world
the personal grief and private trials of your own small life

We’re only two months into a new year but I write from a place of utter weariness. It’s been a long year already.

I lost my friend to cancer almost three weeks ago.

She was my own age – a wife, a mom to 3 kids, a beloved Kindergarten teacher. We lived next door for 10 years, raising our kids on communal popsicles and sharing so much of life together.

I’ve been working on this post in fits and starts for two weeks, writing from a place of grief and all of its accompanying friends – fatigue, confusion, and weepiness that comes out of nowhere. I wish I was a child who could be sent to time out. For like, 4 weeks.

There are still mouths to feed and work to do and decisions to make, and this is a good thing. But I go through these everyday motions with a heaviness I can’t shake off.

It’s not an unfamiliar place. Just over three years ago, I lost another dear friend to cancer – a wife and mom in her 40s, a devoted college professor, the most loyal friend.

Loss has a way of refining our truest priorities, doesn’t it?

A year and a half ago, my grandmother’s death reoriented me in ways I didn’t know I needed. The words I read at her funeral began my journey of receiving my right-now season of life even though it meant letting go of a hoped-for dream, of learning to see limitations as gifts instead of liabilities.

But this is a lesson I am slow to learn.

There’s nothing like losing two women your very own age to force you to examine what you want your own life to be about, especially when they’ve loved you and others generously.

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I had a difficult conversation with my husband recently. It didn’t start out as a speak-the-hard-truth sort of talk; it really just began as an apology. But we can’t always predict where our words will lead and this particular exchange landed me in a painful place. I’d been operating from a know-it-all place of entitlement and expectation. I could see exactly what the issues were and guess what? I wasn’t the problem.

Except that I was, in fact, a very big part of the problem.

This is marriage. Nothing happens in a vacuum; we’re both wrong and also right. But in this case, grace showed up and allowed me to receive the hard truth, to hold it up to the light and discern a thing or two.

Here’s the paraphrased version:

We loved each other almost immediately. Back then, I knew how to live fully and freely in the moment, to laugh long and hard and easy. I was audacious and optimistic and brimming with love. But that person doesn’t come around much anymore. It’s sad and frustrating to be with someone you don’t much recognize, to miss the person you fell in love with.

He reminded me that I know all too well what that’s like. And I do. For a long season, I didn’t recognize him either. By grace, God brought him back, but I know what it’s like to miss someone even though you both still live under the same roof.

Then he said something that I can’t stop thinking about:

I don’t care if you never put another meal on the table. What matters to me and to the kids is the person you are when you’re with us. And we’re all walking on eggshells around here.

Happy times.

The drama of our life together is one for the books. We are a marriage of redemption, partially because we’ve given God so much material to work with. At first, I resisted the truth he spoke because I wanted to blame him for my own stressy demeanor that has apparently had everyone treading so lightly.

But he spoke those painful words in love and I knew he was right. The truth is, I’ve missed myself too.

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I know what you may be thinking: What does any of this have to do with rest and self-care?

I’ll tell you what. I have not been living within my means.

What’s the secret to practicing self-care in the midst of your crazy, right-now life?

Learning to recognize and receive your own limitations.

When I don’t live within my means, I don’t live a life defined by love. I live a life defined by stress, anxiety, worry, and control. I am not kind or patient with those I love most.

Simply put, I’ve increasingly stretched myself too thin. I’ve said yes when I should have said no. I’ve been so busy tending to the immediate and the urgent that I’ve neglected the important. I’ve chosen agenda over relationship. I’ve tried to be my own savior and other people’s too. I’ve let fear have its way with me. I’ve brewed extra coffee instead of taking a nap.

I’ve learned these lessons before and I should know better. I’ve read Essentialism for crying out loud. But living beyond our means doesn’t happen all at once.

Step by step, I’ve slowly crept into the rolling fog of overwhelm until I could no longer see clearly. I’ve been blind to my own sin and lack of love, blaming others for my woes — spouse, kids, circumstances I didn’t deserve.

Which brings me back to the beginning of this post. What do I want my life to be about?

Love.

I want to live a life defined by love.

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Jesus said that the second greatest commandment (after loving God with all that you are) is loving your neighbor as yourself. We tend to zero in on the “neighbor” part of that verse, while ignoring an implicit truth.

To know how to love others, we need to know how to love ourselves.

This is the trickiest of truths to unpack, partially because our culture paints “loving yourself” into some sort of Real Housewives caricature of personal indulgence. That’s not the sort of loving yourself I’m talking about. That’s just narcissism.

The great thing about the Christian faith is that we have a God who became a real man and lived among us. His life is actually written down for us, which means we can learn from him and through him.

Here is the perfect example of someone who loved God with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength AND loved his neighbor as himself. Jesus, even though He was God and could have lived beyond his human capacity, chose not to. Which means He lived within his means. He honored his own limitations.

He slept when He was tired.

He retreated from crowds when He was overwhelmed and needed to rest, regroup, and pray.

He took naps, even when a literal storm raged around him and everyone was freaking out. When He woke up, He calmly took care of business and did not waste precious energy coming unhinged.

He dined leisurely with friends and family.

He made wine flow abundantly so that his loved ones could prolong their celebration.

He did not hurry.

He did not heal everyone who needed healing.

He did not take advantage of every great opportunity that came his way, even though those closest to him said he should.

He learned a trade and worked, making beautiful and useful things with his hands.

He knew that the Scriptures were his food and his life.

Jesus was not a workaholic. He honored the God-given rhythms of work and rest.

Even though we know that God’s power sustained him through temptation and suffering, I can’t help but wonder if the fruit of these disciplines helped nourish him during the times when he did have to live beyond his means.

When He was being tempted in the desert for 40 days.

When crowds were pressing in on Him.

When He kept teaching for hours on end and had to feed thousands of hungry people.

When the religious establishment harassed him endlessly.

In the days leading up to his death.

As he suffered and eventually died for a world that did not see who He was.

Like him, we face situations or seasons when we’re forced to live in crisis mode, when there are no healthy rhythms because we’re just trying to survive or help others survive. Jesus lived in the same broken world we live in — he was called upon to step in to crises, to go without sleep, to do God’s work when he was exhausted.

But he didn’t live this way all the time.

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What might it look like to seek the greatest good of those around you in the same way that you naturally, instinctively, seek the greatest good for yourself?

Honoring your limitations and honoring their limitations
Receiving compassion and grace for yourself, giving compassion and grace to those around you
Receiving rest for yourself and providing rest to others
Caring for your own body and caring for the bodies of those you love — with food, with tenderness, with intention

I am not my own end game. When I learn how to care for myself in this Jesus way, I also learn how to care for others in this Jesus way.

Living loved helps me live love.

I continue to learn the hard way that if I don’t honor my human limitations and care for myself accordingly, I can’t love others well. Or sometimes at all.

Even if there weren’t others to care for or live in relationship with, knowing that the Creator of the universe loves you and delights in you regardless of what you accomplish — that’s who God created us to be. Learning to live loved is enough.

But people do need you. They need the unique brand of love and work and giftedness that only you can offer the world.

They don’t need a bootstrapped version of you that will burn out.
Or a dutiful but resentful version of you (my personal favorite)
Or an apathetic, checked-out version of you
Or a you that is so focused on everyone else that you are falling apart on the inside / bitter / coping in all the wrong ways

By learning what it looks like to love ourselves in the midst of our right-now lives, we can begin to live lives defined by love.

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I’ve tried all sorts of things in the name of self-care — exercise, eating well, taking supplements or medicine, getting a break. I still do these things to varying degrees. But I’m here to tell you, after years of trial and error, that honoring my limitations makes more of a difference than anything else.

Learning to rest, to let go of what I can, to ration my energy, to always count the cost of stress — these are the most loving things I can do for myself and the people I love.

In what areas do you need to rest, scale back, or let go?

What may feel selfish at first could actually breathe more life into yourself, your work, your home, and the world you influence.

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The next post in this series, coming to you sooner rather than later, will get super practical. I’ve learned there are little changes we can make in our everyday lives that yield big exhales (to us and to our people.)

If you find yourself in any of the following statements, the next post in the series is for you:

I can’t spend money on spa days or shopping weekends. How can I practice self-care? (Me either.)
My life has zero margin.
I have little kids. What is this “rest” you speak of?
I literally don’t know where to start. I’ve always been focused on the needs of those around me. To think of my own feelings, desires, or needs is a foreign concept.
I probably focus too much on myself and not enough on those around me. How can I find a healtier way to care for myself?
I’m so busy fulfilling my many responsibilities. Self-care will have to wait.
I am a Real Housewife and this post offends me. How DARE you?

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Simply come and receive.

Whenever the latest installment of the series is published, you’ll be the first to know and you won’t miss a post.

When Your Right-Now Life Needs a Realistic Way to Study Scripture

If you’re here for the first time, welcome! We’re in the early stages of a new series, The Sacred Art of Receiving Your Right-Now Life. It’s all about living your ordinary life with extraordinary purpose.

Here’s what I’m learning. I can provide soulful encouragement and how-to tips all day long. But if we don’t begin with one of our most basic needs — being fed and nourished on a soul level — we’ll lose perspective and momentum quickly, no matter how good our intentions and ideas are.

There is one thing that helps me receive my own life, undesirable days and all, more than anything else. It’s the truth and sustenance of God’s Word.

I invite you to read the previous post — The One Word that Forever Changed How I Approach Scripture — so that you can have the full context for this post.

Here’s the main point: I began to desire God’s Word when I realized it was my food.

Without it, I ricochet through my days much like a hungry child with low blood sugar. My life is easily defined by my frustration, circumstances, and selfishness. With it, I’m more grounded and centered. I have a perspective that’s so much bigger than myself and my own little kingdom. I walk in a spirit of truth instead of a spirit of crazy.

With the foundation that God’s Word is our food, it’s time for us to learn how to eat. There are countless approaches to studying Scripture, but my goal here is to share lessons from my own journey and to help you find practical ways to be nourished in your right-now life.

One thing to remember. Any food is better than no food.

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A Tale of…a Lot of Group Bible Studies

I did my first real group Bible study when I was in graduate school. I was a young mom with a new baby. I was also just coming out of an intensely dark season of my life spiritually. I had gone from belief to not knowing what I believed to definitely not believing in anything to shakily embracing my Christian faith again. That’s a story in itself but not the point of this post.

I was starving. Our new church advertised a Bible study and they had childcare.

Armed with All The Colored Pencils, my notebook and my Bible, I devoured each week’s Precepts inductive lesson even though it often meant cramming the night before (because grad school + a baby that didn’t sleep.)

I probably loved Precepts because of its timing in my life and not because it’s a tailor-made approach for me. Which just goes to show, it’s really not about the method. It’s about the intersection of your right-now life and what you have access to.

When my young family moved to the town we live in now, I got involved with the weekly small group studies at my church. We did everything from book studies to Books of the Bible studies to Beth Moore studies. They had childcare for my little ones (praise) and it also provided relationship and community for me as a young mom in a new place.

The most meaningful study for me during those years was Beth Moore’s Believing God. No surprise, it was all about the timing. Again, I had survived a dark and painful season (of a totally different nature) and I was struggling to believe in God’s goodness and faithfulness. That study and Beth’s teaching was a lifeline to me.

As my kids got older and their schooling demands meant I could no longer spend a morning in Bible study, I floundered. I can’t even remember what my “quiet time” looked like in those years but it was a time when life felt more defined by my circumstances and what I “should” be doing than by who God is and what’s He’s already done for me. Spiritually speaking, I probably lived in a chronic state of low blood sugar and it showed up in every area of my life.

About five years ago, a friend from college told me about Bible Study Fellowship (BSF.) I was 100% not interested. I’d heard of BSF and it sounded, um…not for me. Too structured, too old-school. But there was something about it I couldn’t shake and I was finally in a season that offered time and energy.

Long story short, I traveled to an hour-away Bible study for two years with a friend of mine. We then had the privilege of helping begin a BSF satellite group in our own town.

This is my first year in five years not being involved in BSF and I miss it terribly. While there is no one way for every person, Bible Study Fellowship fed me richly and deeply with the Word of God like nothing else ever has.

When I studied the Life of Moses, God was bringing me out of an impossible place and into a promised land.

When I studied John, I was living in the tension between my right-now work and my hoped-for work. Week after week, Jesus’ words and life spoke into that tension in a way that literally changed me, that helped me accept God’s perfect timing. The Gospel of John taught me to receive my right-now life in all of its unnoticed abundance and in all of the ways it fell short of what I longed for.

Do you know what my own journey with Bible studies tells me?

It’s not about finding the one perfect way to be in Scripture.

It’s about letting the richness of God’s word into your daily life — no matter the season — and being desperate for Him to meet you right where you are.

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Enough backstory. Tell me what to do!

Group Bible Studies

A group Bible study might be for you if:

You struggle with intrinsic motivation and need the accountability of a group.
You like to process what you’re learning with others.
You need to receive what you’re learning in a variety of formats — studying on your own during the week, processing with a small group, and perhaps having teaching on the topic from a leader that ties it all together.
You have small children and have access to a Bible study that provides childcare.
You need to get out of the house.

A group Bible study might not be for you if:

Your time is scarce.
You get super annoyed when you process things in small groups with a variety of personalities.
You don’t have convenient access to one.
You have a schedule that means your involvement will be hit or miss.

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Studying God’s Word on Your Own

(fail…and then find something that works)

This current year of my life — with where we are as a family, with my job and some extra work — doesn’t allow for a group study. I got the big idea that I would go through the book of John again on my own because it meant so much to me and I longed to dig deeper.

I was not consistent. Like, at all. But I did get really good at drinking coffee and jumping right into work and shuffling papers around.

One of the reason group studies have often worked well for me is because there’s accountability. When someone expects something of me, I do it. And if someone doesn’t? I can be hit or miss. I meet outer expectations. I tend to resist inner expectations.

BSF worked for me because I had homework due every week and I have never been the gal who shows up without my homework done.

After spending last semester snacking my way through devotionals and being hit or miss with John, I knew I needed a new approach. But still, there was the issue of time. I don’t have a morning or an evening to go to a study or even to join an online group.

The first week of January, I met with a friend and she introduced me to what I’m doing right now. I call it “Bible Study Devotional Journaling.” I literally just made up that title as I typed it. : )

Here’s the thing. No one is holding me accountable. But after a summer + semester of being spiritually “hangry,” I have craved my time with God each day because I know how badly I need it.

Like any discipline (a word I don’t love), the fruit of the habit becomes its own reward. This is what continues to motivate me day after day, not the habit itself.

Yes, your personality matters and we’ll talk about that more in a minute. But once you begin eating real food every day, once it becomes the sustenance that keeps you grounded and centered in the truth of who God is, you don’t want to go back to nibbling crumbs every other day and wondering why you feel spiritually anemic and unsteady.

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“Bible Study Devotional Journaling” how-to:

(Guys, please help me find another name for this.)

Step 1: Choose a devotional that goes through a book of the Bible.

I’m using Tim Keller’s The Songs of Jesus: A Year of Daily Devotions in the Psalms.

Step 2: Grab a simple composition book and a good pen. You’re ready to go!

Step 3: Read the Scripture passage.

Don’t read the notes from the author. Don’t read the prayer. Just focus on the Scripture. Read through it once or twice.

Step 4: Start writing.

I try to write down 20-30 things, going verse by verse. Here are the types of things I write:

Who does God say He is?
What attributes of God do I see? (Faithful, good, patient, just, merciful, etc.)
What is He promising?
How I resonate with particular verses of the passage.
A one-sentence prayer in response to a verse.
A truth statement.
A personal application in response to a verse.

Step 5: Read the commentary or devotional.

There’s a reason you read this last. It’s important to let God speak to you when it’s just you and the Scripture itself. I love commentaries. I love looking up the original Greek or Hebrew for a certain word. But that’s not where I begin. The Word itself and the Holy Spirit are enough. After I’ve done my own verse by verse examination and study, I love seeing what the author of the study or devotional has to say about it. This can offer extra insight.

Step 6: Read back over the verses, what you’ve journaled, and maybe the commentary / devotional. Write a short statement.

Add some more things that you didn’t notice the first time and then read over all that you’ve journaled. Is there an overarching principle or truth statement you want to carry with you for the day? This forces me to synthesize what I’ve read and apply it in a more concise way.

Step 7: Pray

Sometimes I write out my prayer. Sometimes I write out and pray the author’s prayer. Sometimes I just sit in my chair and pray, not writing out anything.

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Choose a simple all-inclusive Bible study…and maybe a friend.

If my current method doesn’t sound like a fit, if you need something more structured (and with less writing), consider a Bible study that has a passage and directed questions for you to answer. I did this study for the Book of Galatians and it’s a great approach. Everything you need, including the Scripture, right in one book.

If you can’t do a group study but you don’t feel like you’ll stick with something on your own, what about asking a friend to meet with you once a week or every other week? This is a great compromise because you still have accountability but it’s not A Big Weekly Thing You Attend.

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The Word on the Go

Now that we carry computers around in our pockets, we can carry Scripture with us wherever we go. you on your journey.

Read Scripture App

You guys. This is the coolest.

It’s a free app that provides videos and context along the way. There are reading plans and reminders you can set to spur you along. It’s for everyone from kids and teenagers to people like you and me. Seriously, if you don’t know where to start, download the app and begin with this.

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Your Personality Matters

God’s Word is for all of us. But there’s no one best way to study the Bible.

Know who you are. Chances are, you don’t need a personality test to tell you what you already know. You know whether you’re disciplined or not. You know if you’re sort of ADD or not. You know how you learn best. You know if you need to study with others or if your time is richer on your own. You know what you have time for in this season and what you don’t.

I know that reading through the Bible in a year is highly recommended and a great spiritual discipline. But you guys, every time I’ve tried I get so bored. I lose interest. I dawdle and procrastinate. I just can’t.

I’m sustained by God’s Word when I dig deep into smaller passages at a time. I love to take an entire year and study one book. This feeds me so richly, but I know it’s not for everyone.

I have artistic friends who have journaling Bibles with wide margins. They draw beautiful images as they study and it makes God’s Word come alive to them.

I’ve been in small discussion groups that literally were such a struggle for me, it got in the way of studying Scripture. I know, I’m a horrible person, but it’s true.

Take what you know about yourself and apply it. Don’t feel guilty. Walk in freedom and experiment! Just find a way to eat that’s nourishing, sustaining, and doable for you.

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Hearing the Word

Sometimes we place so much emphasis on personal Bible study, forgetting that for centuries, most Christians couldn’t have a “quiet time” as we think of it today for one very big reason: they were illiterate.

Priests rolled open the scrolls and people simply listened. They read the Word and congregants believed them. Preachers proclaimed the Gospel and this spoken word found its way into the desperate hearts of men, women, and children.

Whether it’s sitting in church regularly and hearing the faithful preaching of God’s Word or listening to sermons on your iPhone as you drive to work — hearing the Word matters. It matters a lot actually. If you’re beating yourself up because your personal quiet time isn’t as robust as it “should” be, know that there are many ways God feeds his people.

Sometimes I’ll play the audio version of Scripture on the Bible Gateway app on my phone as I drive or clean the kitchen. And if you want something super cool (that your kids will dig), check out Streetlights — the actual Word of God being spoken (with an urban, street vibe) in your home or car, via your earbuds. The spoken Word is a powerful thing and it will not return empty. That’s God’s promise, not mine.

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A Few Final Thoughts: On simplicity, new habits, and real enemies

You may be tempted to run out and buy a pretty new Bible study, Moleskin journal, and fancy pen to start your new Bible routine.

But here’s the thing. New and fresh will only get you so far.

When I needed a different approach this year, I grabbed The Songs of Jesus devotional I already had and an old composition book from ye olde pile of castoff notebooks.

I spent zero dollars. But every day, I feel like I eat a 5-course meal.

A friend told me this and it’s too good not to share:

The way to become like Jesus is by spending time with Jesus. We can call it spiritual discipline but it’s really just time with him.

The more I feed on God’s Word as my daily sustenance, the more I desire this time with Jesus, the Word who became flesh and came to dwell among us.

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Some of you have asked what to do when God seems distant, when his Word seems to leave you no different than when you arrived, when it feels like duty instead of desire. I’m familiar with all of these places. And as much as I’d love to talk about it here, I’ve already written too many words for one post. These are topics I’d love to write about in the future because they’re part of my story.

Here’s what I will say right now:

Come hungry, asking to be filled.
Come seeking and honest, asking to be met in personal ways. Just this morning, my passage in the Psalms began with this question: “Why, Lord, do you stand far off?” It is good and okay to go to him with our gut-honest questions, feelings, and perceptions. He welcomes us just as we are.
Come often. Habits and disciplines can feel awkward and contrived at the beginning. Keep coming to the table hungry and see what happens.

One final word. There is a real enemy who wants to keep you from the sustaining truth you need to receive every day, the truth that enables you to receive your right-now life with hope for the future, with trust in God’s timing, and with the certainty that God is at work even the most mundane or painful seasons of your life.

In Ephesians 6, the passage about putting on the whole armor of God, there is but one offensive weapon mentioned in the entire list. Guess what it is?

“The sword of the Spirit,” the Word of God.

Know that when you are fed, you are able to fight.

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If you have ideas you’d like to share with others, practical ways that you’ve been nourished by God’s Word, share them in the comments! I’m only one person. Let’s learn from one another.

If you have questions you’d like to see me address, I welcome them. You can leave them in the comments section or email me directly.

Simply come and receive.

Whenever the latest installment of the series is published, you’ll be the first to know and you won’t miss a post.

Post 1: How to Live Your Ordinary Life with Extraordinary Purpose

Post 2: The One Word that Forever Changed How I Approach the Bible

Other Resources:

“He leads me beside streams of toilet waters.” (a real-life tale of how Scripture shows up in the mayhem of your right-now life)

The Best Online Bible Studies for Women by Kayse Pratt

The One Word that Forever Changed How I Approach the Bible

One Halloween about eight years ago, I was at Disneyworld, the happiest place on earth, with the unhappiest Minnie Mouse on earth. She was 8 years old, with a painted black button nose, full Minnie costume, sequin ears, and red glitter shoes. I don’t remember the details of the tragedy but it had something to do with real Minnie leaving the party before mini Minnie got a chance to see her.

It was a moment, let me tell you.

Mini Minnie was inconsolable. It didn’t matter that we were at Disneyworld, that she was the world’s most adorable mini Minnie, that we had all sorts of excitement planned for the rest of the evening.

It was the most epic and magical of meltdowns. And the emotional unraveling seemed to know no bounds.

At some point, we realized that mad mini Minnie might be hungry. I don’t remember what we fed her — a $7 Disney muffin, a Lunchable, I honestly have no idea. But within minutes, sanity was restored. It was shocking, a real-life Jeckyl / Hyde sort of moment. Mini Minnie stopped crying tears of rage and began speaking rational words. We could actually reason with her again. To a certain extent, she rallied.

All it took was a snack.

I’m sad to say, she comes by it honestly. While on our honeymoon at the beach, my husband recalls his hysterical new bride stopping in the middle of the bike path, dismounting the bike, and sobbing / sweating / claiming she was going to die.

One Sprite from a nearby vending machine and she was back in business.

The point is, we can get a little crazy when we don’t eat (or drink.) We lose all perspective. We despair. We cry. We don’t think or feel or act as we should.

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Last week I began a new series here: The Sacred Art of Receiving Your Right-Now Life.

Daily, I live in the tension between my right-now life / roles / responsibilities, and my hoped-for life / work / dreams. Like the rest of you, I’m knee-deep in the dailyness of dinner, the relentlessness of laundry, helping with 4th grade math that’s too hard for me, raising kids in a crazy world, living in community, and working an actual job.

I have a beautiful life. Every day, I count the gifts. Living in the frustrating tension between the right-now and the hoped-for doesn’t mean I’m not grateful; it simply means that I wrestle. Peace and acceptance can be a challenge for me because Longing and Envy are always nipping at my heels.

I’m writing this series because I want to know what it looks like in our real, messy, daily lives to receive the life of Christ, broken for us, and then to “receive our own lives” with humility and trust, living broken and poured out as He did.

I’m learning that these complicated questions find their answers in the simple places and ordinary tasks of our daily work and regular lives.

But.

That doesn’t mean it’s all happy-clappy-dishwashing and dinner-prepping and kid-raising. We’re going to get to these topics in our series but the reality is, we can’t even begin to talk about feeding and nourishing others until we first have been fed.

We have to eat.

What’s the one word that forever changed how I approach God’s word?

Food.

You may be familiar with the story of Jesus in the desert for 40 days with Satan.

After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to him and said, ‘If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.’
Jesus answered, ‘It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

Jesus, the Son of God, fought against the temptations of power, pride, greed, influence, and acclaim with the Word of God.

He even fought physical fatigue and hunger and loneliness with the Word of God.

How much more must this be true for us?

God’s Word was Christ’s hope, his consolation, his power, his perspective, his sustenance.

It’s taken me years to learn that it’s all of these things for me too.

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If you’ve grown up in Christian culture, you’ve probably heard “being in God’s Word” presented as a number of different things:

— spiritual discipline

— something you should desperately desire if you’re a devoted Christian

— where you find answers for life’s questions

— the story of God’s people

— the story of God’s love for the world

And all of this is true. But for me, I began to love and pursue and desire God’s Word when I realized it was my food.

Without it, I ricochet through my days much like mad mini Minnie with low blood sugar. My life is easily defined by my frustration, devastation, bewilderment, anger, and selfishness.

With it, I’m more grounded and centered. I have a perspective that’s so much bigger than myself and my own little kingdom. I walk in a spirit of truth instead of a spirit of crazy.

I realize this is the least theologian-ish post ever on the Word of God, like I see the Bible as some sort of therapeutic, self-help tool.

Actually, the Word of God is God. It’s “alive and active,” the Living Word.

Crazy, right? I can tell you from experience, we can’t control the ways it may work in our lives. We use words like “quiet time” or “daily devotions” and that makes it sound so tidy and polite. In reality, the word of God is sharper than a two edged sword.

The hope, revelation, conviction, identity, power, and perspective it can unleash in our right-now lives is untamable.

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It’s been a hard week around here — a week of grief, stress, and overwhelm. There have been many circumstances, tasks, and emotions just this week that I have not wanted to receive. I’m depleted in every way.

The only thing that has kept me putting one foot in front of the other is the food I’ve eaten each morning, not out of duty but out of sheer desperation.

“Lord, I’m opening your word this morning. You know that I’m starving and desperate. Please feed me.”

And He has.

I realize that this post may raise more questions than answers.

How do you spend time in Scripture?

It’s hard to understand. How is it so meaningful to you?

I’m super busy / unmotivated / apathetic / cynical / ________. Any suggestions for me?

Yes! Let’s talk about all of these things. The next post in the series will get super practical. We’ll talk about everything from how your personality may influence your approach to studying the Bible, to real-life solutions when you’re busy, and even some helpful tools.

But here’s the thing: I can help inspire you to receive your current season of work, to find joy in feeding your family, or to find right-now ways to use some of the gifts that don’t feel like they have a place. These are the struggles of our regular lives and I long to encourage you in all of these areas.

But you’ll still get hungry, lose all perspective, and make it about your own little kingdom without God’s Word influencing and empowering your daily rhythms and pursuits. Ask me how I know. : )

I can only begin to receive my own life — heartache, limitations, frustration and all — when I begin to receive his Word as my truest and most beneficial sustenance.

///

I can’t wait for us to get practical about all this. If you have questions you’d like to see me address, I’d love that! You can leave them in the comments section or email me directly.

Simply come and receive.

Whenever the latest installment of the series is published, you’ll be the first to know and you won’t miss a post.

Post 1: How to Live Your Ordinary Life with Extraordinary Purpose

How to Live Your Ordinary Life with Extraordinary Purpose {a new series}

I landed in January 2018 like an amateur acrobat shot out of a cannon who then had to run a relay race.

It has not been a slow, graceful, or intentional transition into a new year.

It’s complicated to explain, but there was no time for reflection or resolutions, no quiet space for examination, no soulful opportunity to solidify my place and purpose in a new year.

Instead, I found myself in the middle of frenzy — a busy family schedule, a house in chaos, a full work queue, and a flurry of unexpected responsibilities that fell squarely in my lap. If I was the sort of person who thrives on being needed, I would be living in my sweet spot.

But, for better or for worse, I am the opposite of that person.

Instead of living broken and poured out in these early weeks of a new year, I’ve lived bitterly and dried up, each new request or need feeling like nails on the chalkboard of my soul.

“Really, Marian? Nails on the chalkboard of your soul?” I know, I know. It’s so dramatic, like something ripped from the pages of an angsty, adolescent diary.

And I fully admit it. I am dramatic.

I feel things deeply, my senses are always in overdrive. I am a perceiver, an observer, and the possessor of a rich and volatile “inner life.”

Being wired this way has its perks if you can live your life as an artist. Inspired. In solitude. With zero ordinary responsibilities and bills that someone else is paying.

But for me, my “rich inner life” mostly feels inconvenient. I have boundless creative energy but my right-now life rudely sprawls itself out across the limited hours of my day like a clueless, overbearing house guest.

When I lose all perspective — due to fatigue, overwhelm, spiritual detachment, or having zero creative outlet — my right-now roles and responsibilities can feel like Cousin Eddie, exhausting and uninvited.

///

I’ve done my best to soldier on through crazy town January, surfing the waves of productivity like a pro, and bulldozing all of the domestic tasks like the responsible domestic engineer that I am.

Until I came unhinged last week. It had probably been months in the making.

It started on Thursday, got a bit better on Friday…and then crash-landed in an embarrassing blaze of glory. I coped in less than mature ways and spoke regrettable words about my life. I cried and went to bed without dinner.

Thankfully, Grace is a hound.

Prayer and insight from a friend —

Conversation I didn’t feel like having my husband —

Words I didn’t want to hear but knew I needed to receive —

An entire day devoted to cleaning the house (unexpectedly therapeutic) —

A Sunday morning when I didn’t feel like church but went away —

Communion —

Take, eat, this is my body which is being broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.

The truth of the Word, the ~~wine~~ grape juice from the cup, the sorrowful tears from my own eyes — they swirled into a divine alchemy that rose like smoke into one of the clearest visions I’ve ever had.

I don’t mean “vision” as in I actually saw something. By vision, I mean clarity — words that wove into a message and a message that immediately told me what it wanted to be. It all crystallized so quickly, I could barely write fast enough.

What does it look like in our real, messy, daily lives to receive the life of Christ, broken for us, and then to “receive our own lives” with humility and trust, living broken and poured out as He did?

I’m learning that these complicated questions find their answers in the simple places and ordinary tasks of our daily work and regular lives.

///

For months, I’ve been wrestling and brainstorming with a message, a series I’ve desperately wanted to offer. It’s outlined and partially fleshed out, just waiting to be finished and packaged and delivered in some way.

I’ve prayed over it and sought counsel. I had a plan and then I was forced to swallow the hard truth. Try as I might, it just couldn’t be born into my right-now life. I’ve felt great sadness and frustration, but I knew the work required wasn’t compatible with the time and energy I currently have.

I was given something else instead. It’s a similar message but simpler to offer and I’m so excited to share it with you.

I’ve designed it to speak to your soul and then extend practically into your real life.

This series is for you if:

You need soulful encouragement + real-life tips for living your ordinary life with extraordinary purpose.
Your soul feels empty and you need realistic ways to receive spiritual food.
You’re bogged down in the mundane work of your daily life: the dailyness of dinner, feeling like a taxi driver, changing diapers and folding onesies.
You know that the “work of your hands” matters but is there a way not to hate it so much?
You want to feed your family actual food but it has to be easy and why does dinner have the nerve to come around every day?
You have gifts you long to use but your right-now life doesn’t have the space for it.
You want to gratefully receive your right-now life, challenges and imperfections and all, instead of resenting it.

We’re going to talk about realistic ways to be nourished by Scripture, feeding your family because you love them (but with the least amount of work), the sacredness of your daily work in the home, rest and self-care, relationship and community, and creative ways to use your gifts in your right-now life.

Did I mention that I’m excited? : )

Even if no one shows up, this is a series I need for my own self, right now. This means I’m not writing as a wise sage speaking from a learned and lofty place, but as a working mom of 3 kids, a wife, a keeper of home, a hopeless creative, and a writer carrying projects that can’t yet be born. I write as a woman who longs to be present and purposeful in my right-now life, even as I wait with hope for the fruition of my own creative work.

If this sounds like something you need, all you have to do is subscribe to this online space. (You can do that in the box below this post.) If you’re already subscribed, yay! You’ll automatically receive it. The series is totally free.

Simply come and receive.

Whenever the latest installment of the series is published, you’ll be the first to know and you won’t miss a post.

In the meantime, you may enjoy these:

When Your Right-Now Work Feels Extra Ordinary but Not Extraordinary

Learning to Love the Work of Our Hands this Year by Kimberly Coyle for Grace Table

How to Pursue Your Hoped-for Work in the Midst of Your Right-Now Life {a series)

How a 92-year-old Woman Taught Me the Value of My Right-Now Work

See you soon!

When Your Right-Now Work Feels Extra Ordinary But Not Extraordinary {and something I made for you}

The day began in the pre-dawn hours with black coffee. It’s a telltale sign I’m extra serious about the day.

By 7:30 I had cooked four hot breakfasts, packed two lunches, and made an unplanned trip to the middle school. I’d walked the dog and made a grocery list, even though I was just there yesterday. And probably the day before.

A friend asked me why I don’t just buy cereal. “It’ll change your life,” she said.

It’s true. Cereal is from the Lord and I promise you that we eat plenty of it because many of our mornings are just sheer survival. I’m often stumbling through the early moments of a new day in ways that feel less like June Cleaver and more like a hangover.

But when the stars align, when I’m up early and have the capacity to do All The Things, I try to nourish these people of mine before we all go our separate ways, hopeful that the warm food in their bellies feeds their souls and not just their bodies.

It sounds idyllic but let’s be honest — it’s work. And it leaves the kitchen a disaster. I don’t feel naturally inclined toward any of it and yet I find myself, again and again, serving up oatmeal and stacking up laundry like it’s a normal thing. Because it totally is.

This is my right-now life.

My younger self found herself lost in thoughts about doing big, brave things in the world.

My right-now self finds herself lost in thoughts about work-life balance, ordering takeout, and being able to lie down.

I think hard about better ways to get everything done, wondering how I can best approach work life, family life, writing life, community life. I shift and re-shift these blocks of time around in my mind, working it like a puzzle that will forever have a missing piece or three.

On black coffee mornings, I wonder how I got here.

My small life in this big world feels both humble and humbling.

College degrees and four years of graduate school provided not a single course that taught the skills I clumsily employ for the majority of my waking hours.

I am both overqualified and woefully unprepared.

This humble, ordinary life of mine is my greatest earthly treasure. Yet on a daily basis, I often consider the work required in maintaining this treasure as “beneath me.” I work tirelessly to make all the puzzle pieces fit into a vignette that is awe-inspiring. But the truth is, my everyday landscape looks mostly like unmatched socks, an embarrassingly full inbox, and making dinner again.

///

I know I’m not alone when I often long for more than dishes and lunches and permission forms.

In a culture that confuses significance with visibility, our daily lives and ordinary work convince us that we’re coming up short.

In her book, Liturgy of the Ordinary, author Tish Harrison Warren says this:

We tend to want a Christian life with the dull bits cut out.
Yet God made us to spend our days in rest, work, and play, taking care of our bodies, our families, our neighborhoods, our homes. What if all these boring parts matter to God? What if days passed in ways that feel small and insignificant to us are weighty with meaning and part of the abundant life that God has for us?

I find myself praying for God’s strength and presence as I swipe the peanut butter and scramble the eggs because the honest truth is this: I’d rather do something more significant.

Yet these are the daily rhythms that knead truth and humility into my forgetful, prideful soul. The dailyness that comprises my existence can either rob me of life or give me more of it. Fighting for the latter is always worth it.

This fight to find my life in the ordinary places always begins with humility, with smallness.

Time and tasks spent in the daily service of my own household has become the holy ground of spiritual formation and transformation, namely my own. As I die to my own grand notions of significance, I begin to find life. It has not gotten easier, only more normal.

This hard-fought, daily relent feels much like repentance. First the resistance, then the surrender, and finally — the life and the freedom.

///

Coram Deo is a Latin phrase that Christians have used for centuries. It literally means before the face of God.

To live coram Deo is to live all of life in the presence of God, under the authority of God, and to the glory of God.

Presence. This is Emmanuel, God with us. A God who washed feet and cooked fish and fed people. He is with us as we do the same, not as a distant ruler but as a kind, here-and-now companion, keeping company with us at the sink, in the classroom, and during the dark nights of the soul.

Authority. Yet this humble baby was also a sovereign King. A King who rules our individual lives with love and defends us against our enemies. This sovereign, loving King uses our everyday, right-now lives as instruments of redemption. It makes no sense to me but it has been the theme of my own life.

Glory. The smallest task on earth is bursting with glory potential, from the selling of goods and services, to the wiping of bottoms. When I’m struggling with insignificance, when I’m bemoaning mundane work, it’s usually because there’s a glory I’m not getting for myself.

Life coram Deo means to live a life that is small in the best ways. This maker of Heaven and Earth is not helped along by our pride, entitlement, and ambition.

And it means to live a life that is big in the best ways. This Creator God is with us and for us.

Perhaps this is the big, brave life I wanted all along. Who knew that I would find it among the breakfast dishes?

///

On an everyday December morning, in the hustle and bustle of a chaotic kitchen, I am good to be reminded of life coram Deo.

Ours is an integrated life. It means that all of our work is sacred because it is done in the presence of Christ Himself. All ground is holy ground. All work is pregnant with the potential for our own transformation and for the feeding of bodies and souls.

Scripture says we “have this treasure in jars of clay.” I smile as I consider that God uses a common household item, an everyday clay jar — the ancient world’s Tupperware — as a vessel for treasure. This verse goes on to tell us why: “to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” {2 Corinthians 4:7}

Our clay selves, prone to cracking and breaking, have been chosen to carry the light and life of Christ into every nook and cranny of our lives. This is the light and life that allows us to suffer with grace, to surrender with trust, and to serve when it’s not part of our “skill set” or resume.

When we die to the glory-seeking agendas for our own lives, we make space to receive His life that moves in us and through us.

May we be humbled to realize that the light which shines from the face of God somehow shines within us too, lighting our path to the bedside, the boardroom, the kitchen.

The smallest work is heavy with significance when it’s weighted with the God of the universe.

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As you may have guessed, my own journey with this phrase has inspired a wearable offering for you.

Just as I wear “courage” on the days I need a tangible reminder that there is strength while I wait, I wear “coram Deo” on the days when the tasks of my right-now life feel extra heavy.

Here are the details:

Each coram Deo necklace is $17 each and that includes shipping.

Hand-stamped with love : )
Aged-brass look
Added tassel. The tassels come in assorted colors so the actual color you receive will be a surprise. (Since I don’t have an endless supply of any one color.) They’re all lovely and can go with anything!

Gold cord with at least a 16-inch (plus) drop
The cord makes it light and casual, simple to wear with anything and to layer with other necklaces.
I will ship within 1 business day of purchase.

These make such meaningful gifts and, well, it’s the season for that. I include a little note that references coram Deo and what it means. Order as many as you like (until they run out) and the shipping is still free.

I’m set up a bit differently this time and now have my very own Etsy shop. These necklaces will be on sale through Saturday (December 16th) or until I sell out. Last time, I sold all the courage necklaces in a little over 24 hours, so you may want to act sooner rather than later.

Click here to get yours.

Feel free to leave any questions in the comment section or email me at marianvischer @ gmail dot com.

Thanks so much for your kind support of this little corner of the internet. Happy shopping and gifting!

—> coram Deo neckalces

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If this post resonated with you, you may also enjoy:

How to Wear Courage in Your Right-Now Life

How to Pursue Your Hoped-For Work in the Midst of Your Right-Now Life {a series}

How to Waste Your Life and Call It Beautiful

How a 92-Year-Old Woman Taught Me the Real Value of My Right-Now Work

New here?

I’m all about helping you recapture the possibility of your right-now life. Each post provides courage, companionship, and resources for life lived real.

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