Overwhelm, Burnout & Obedience

Current status: My eye has been twitching for three days.

I’m a writer who doesn’t sugar coat it. Blogging without vulnerability doesn’t feel comfortable for me, which ironically would make others feel incredibly uncomfortable. If I’m going to write from my perspective for the benefit of others, I need to be real.

Remember when I wrote about yoga a few times? I love yoga. I love feeling strong. But guess what! I haven’t been doing yoga regularly for about a month and a half. Somewhere between my last post about it and now, life has catapulted forward, and I am exhausted by 8 PM.

Yesterday, I told Evan that I just needed another person. I was 100% overwhelmed. How am I supposed to write for my blog, write for a magazine, copy write, lead small groups and do all the things while also making dinner, cleaning my house, grocery shopping? He promptly reminded me, “I’m another person,” and I remembered I’m just one person. I don’t have to do everything.

I told my women yesterday:  It’s empowering to tell each other it’s okay to be a mess. It’ll be fine. Give yourself a minute. Be a mess, and let it be, and then move forward. God called us good, God redeemed us from our sin, God gives us second chances. My eye has been twitching for three days because I am just tired. My hands have been busy for a long time, and it’s catching up to me. I feel like I’m a mess. I feel like I need a few days to just sleep and watch The Office without interruption.

I’ve been praying diligently through this season. I read in a book earlier this summer how too many yes’s can lead to a burnout. And I am fearful of it. I have been looking around waiting for someone to pull me aside and say, Hey girl, cool it for a minute. You have too many things, because I’m scared that this season is wrong. That I’m not fit for this. I’m also scared that someone is going to finally call me out and say, Hey, nope. You are not qualified. We’re not sure how you got here, but this is not your place. I am fearful that I will be found out for not being the woman people actually think I am.

So, in my praying, I’m just confronting it. I am overwhelmed because I feel under-qualified, so Lord, do a work in me. You tell me that I am called, given a purpose, and I am an essential part of the Church. You tell me that You see me for what I really am, and You think I am fit for this. You affirm me by placing Your Son’s blood on my mistakes. You give me grace.

Here are my fears, Lord, and I need You to remind me of truth.

I’m reading in Joshua right now, and I never thought I would say I loved the book, but man, I love it. Reading how Joshua’s obedience to God results in victory makes me feel powerful. It says in 11:15, As the Lord commanded his servant Moses, so Moses commanded Joshua, and Joshua did it; he left nothing undone of all that the Lord commanded Moses. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to follow up a man like Moses. God did so much through the man that led to Isreal’s freedom from Egypt. In Joshua’s obedience, God defeated thirty-one kings that tried to win against Isreal. Every day when I read more and more, the thought continually returns to me: What will God do in my obedience?

My obedience right now looks like saying yes to a lot of things I would’ve said no to in the past. Going from a time in my life where I did not do much of anything, to one where my husband and I have to sit and plan out our weeks feels hard. The fear of failing threatens to swallow me up. But I am not alone. I am just one person. I can do what I can do, and I can ask others to do for me what I cannot do for myself or others.

In my obedience, God can work. There isn’t a chance of being found out when it comes to You, Lord. You already know me. You already know that You make me able. May I do only as you command, obey when You ask, and live with palms that are open. Keep teaching me. May I rest hard to work hard, and may I be forced to say no when I need to say no. Let me leave nothing undone of all that You command me.

Brave Because He Is Mighty

In August, I knew we were on the brink of chaos. It was a weird feeling; we had been in a season of buckling down to survive for the past two years, but the assurance that God was going to bring us a season of flourishing was overwhelming. We didn’t know a thing, we just knew it was coming. It was like riding a roller coaster and slowly going over the first hill. We’re currently gliding around the tracks at speed that feel out of this world.

Where in the world do I start?

A few months ago, my friend Sara told me about an idea she had. She wanted to start The Perk Blog. She’s been in charge of The Perk, the coffee shop ministry at Central, and I knew the minute she said it that it was much more than just a blog. Fast forward to right now, and The Perk Blog has morphed into something incredible. Encounter Magazine is something God-sized, and definitely something He created. We’re a team of Content Directors, Encounter Editor, Graphic Designer, Web Developer, Contributing Writers. Tomorrow we launch Encounter Magazine, and it makes me want to get to my knees. It’s one of those things that I am so grateful for, in every single way. From my wonderful friend who stepped out in bravery to the writers I get to work with each week to bring rich content to the magazine, it’s unreal. Pinching myself often, because I didn’t realize God would bring together so many people that challenge me in the best ways.

Also a few months ago, God gave me a vision for a ministry that catered to women across my city. We started Rally last week, and it was more than I dreamed. We meet every Monday night in a living room, and it has been thick with goodness. Not of our doing. All because of what He has done.

Evan is working constantly, and I’ve been working as an occasionally copywriter, which has been more fun that I thought it could be. (Ha!) Getting to work and dream with my best friend doesn’t even feel real. Sometimes I wonder, Is this allowed? And then I remember we’re adults, so yep, we can do things like this.

When I started this blog some time ago, I didn’t envision me being anything more than a mom who happened to be a writer. But now, God with His funny ways, has me doing things I didn’t know I could do. I didn’t know I was allowed to be anything more than the woman I was. There was nothing wrong with her. She was good, wholly loved, important. But I started saying things to God like, Do immeasurably more in me than I can dream up. I don’t know the end result, I just want to do what You want to do. Show me ways to serve. Give me opportunities. Make me brave because You are mighty in me. Heads up: prayers like those lead to blog posts like these.

You are valuable right where you’re standing. I thought, for a long time, that my value was found in my work. Or whatever I wrote. Or even in the future when I had time to be a valuable asset to the world. Easy for me to say, right? When God has things in my life that seem to bear fruit, when I seem busy, when I have things to do and places to be. But my value is not in me. It isn’t in my busyness. It sure as heck is not in whatever work I am doing. My value is in Him. I have to believe Him. The minute I started to believe what He’s been saying about me since day one, the minute I prayed prayers that shed my desire to seek my own fame, He made it rain. I’m continually getting on my knees thanking Him. There’s too much here to think I did any of it. He does. We just get front row seats to watch Him.

 

The Follow-Up

A couple of days ago I said this to my husband:  “She is a tough act to follow.” She, being an author I look up to in a multitude of ways, who also just gave a powerhouse of a teaching about things I am also passionate about. I was about to write a post for this blog, and I was seriously considering how much better someone else would be at doing this job.

Hi, I’m Janelle. If you thought by the appearances of my family photos or the way I write sometimes that I have all the things organized and figured out, you are terribly wrong about that. Actually, like super duper wrong, in that, I feel like I’m consistently winging it. I am actually really good at winging it. Not always by choice, but I’m learning to roll with all the things when all the things get out of control. This is also known as life. (Or maybe just my life.)

Next week I’m starting something huge and also kind of small. These days leading up to Rally are tripping me up. There’s a lot of what if’s, doubts, questions, unknowns about all of it, that I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel busier than normal, and I also feel incredible irritated that I have to wait a whole 7 days for a vision God cast out to come to life.

The real trouble in this, though, is that I am not so sure that God picked the right girl for the job (aka, me). That’s where the voiced, “She is a tough act to follow” plays in. Why me? I am not enough for this assignment. I just wrote that statement down in my journal. I needed to get it out of my head, because the words are playing tricks on me.

Just this morning I started reading in Joshua. I don’t remember the last time I read the book, and now seemed like a good enough time. I’m trying to spend more time in the Old Testament, since I seem to have favored the New Testament in the past.

You know what’s in the first chapter? I just read it again, and it made me weepy because God is not one to ever make mistakes. It says:

Be strong and courageous.
Be strong and very courageous.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid.
What you have commanded us we will do, and wherever you send us we will go.
Only be strong and courageous!

I had my friend make a sign for me that has Joshua 1:9 on it. It hangs over the bed of my youngest, and I want to pray it over their lives every day. And this morning, the Lord just broke me. I am one chapter in the book of Joshua, and I feel like God is writing words on a page, for the first time, just for me. Joshua, the man that had to follow up after Moses (who literally led the Isrealites out of Egypt), was reminded by God to be strong and courageous four times. Four times. And me, I’m over here like, Joshua! How are you doing this?! Moses just died, and now you’re in command. This is your time. And you didn’t hesitate. Joshua, you just listened. You just obeyed. You were just as God commanded: strong and very courageous. And your people followed you.

Guys, I’m gonna be real, I can’t wait to get to heaven and have full access to God. In this moment in my life when I’m not sure if crap will hit the fan or if I will be at peace, I imagine Him sitting at a desk like a dad does. I see Him sitting, resting His chin on His hand and looking at me with the smile of a Daddy who is anticipating His daughter figuring it out. The kindness in His eyes makes me believe beyond doubt that I can do it. Like a Daddy waiting for His daughter to answer a question she already knows the answer to.

And the answer is like a whisper, and it makes me laugh. It’s a swarm of peace. He said, When have I ever failed?

I am really excited about Rally, but I’m actually more full of anticipation for the work that God is going to do. It’s true, I don’t want to wait until next week for this to come to life, but I’m reminded that God already had this work going. It isn’t just starting. It’s been in His workings far before I was here to notice it. And for whatever reason, I’m the girl He’s picked to do a job that seems bigger than my 5’4″ frame can handle. It’s God-sized.

Join us for Rally!

Motherhood: Requirements for Holiness

I used to have an internal dialogue that would make my head ache and my heart hurt. I would look at my life and say to myself, Well, this is good enough. Not ideal. I’m just a mom. But I’ll be better for Jesus when I have the time, when I can be the version of me I had hoped for in years past, when I actually have quiet time with God.

I would arrive at God’s feet often broken. I felt that way. I felt like a mom who just couldn’t get priorities right or a woman who just could not find herself. I was trudging my way to the Lord for my own benefit. I wanted to feel better. I wasn’t fully interested in getting on my knees because I was in front of a holy King.

As a teenager, I would spend hours in my bedroom journaling, praying, and reading the Bible. I was too wise for my age, and I knew I wanted Jesus like water, so I took that literally. I chose Him like I chose to drink water. I thought of myself as holy because I was doing all the things that looked holy.

Motherhood changed my faith. I couldn’t devote hours to Jesus because I was devoting hours to my people. I didn’t even know if I would be able to return to the Cross like I did when I was 18. I felt useless for the Kingdom, even though I was proudly proclaiming my Kingdom work in my children. I was actually clawing for any grasps of the holiness I thought I needed to be part of His work.

If you’re a mom of little kids: solidarity, sister. Our children are the greatest gifts, but our life is forever changed because of their existence. Changed for the better; it just takes time to find out what that means exactly. It took me a while. I thought the holiness of motherhood was found in all that I was capable of doing, and in turn, the development of my children. It took me years to redeem the holiness of motherhood from the twisted idea I had.

The holiness of motherhood is that I am a messed up woman who is need of a Savior, and I get to take care of the most forgiving children on this planet. The sanctification in motherhood is that my children don’t need me to be anything but their mother. They just need me to show up.

When I started to wake up every day and throw off the “should’s” in my life, I became a better mom. When I started waking up and putting on the simplicity of the gospel, I became a better woman.

I arrive in prayer and want to get to my knees because I realize that my Father has sought me out. He has chosen me. He just wants me to show up. To stick my nose in the Bible for however long, to talk to Him about my day, and He wants me just to be His girl. Because that’s what I am. I am not a lousy mom. I am not a lost woman, seeking to find who she is. The only requirement for the foundation of my faith and my womanhood is this: I belong to Christ, and I believe it.

And who can touch the King’s daughter? No one. She is holy and blameless in His sight, because He gave up everything to have her.

Rally: Real Talk

Yesterday was a leap of faith. Today, I just want to talk real talk.

All day yesterday, I felt like I had consumed five cups of coffee. Releasing Rally into the world felt too dang uncomfortable for my liking. We’ve been praying about it for weeks. I already know what God will do if we’re obedient, so it feels like it’s already there. It feels like we’ve already established precedence, but really, it’s still something that God is working to bring to life. This has become a theme in my life recently:  God is sending out visions for what He wants to happen, and believing in them before they’ve been released into the world is so scary. It truly is walking into a fog, not totally certain of the next steps, but knowing this is the right path.

This initially started, for me, on a random day. I saw it in my head: a huge group of women gathered in the name of Jesus, and I knew all of them. It was profound to me. For months, I’ve connected with more women than I have in years, and I’ve realized that what connects them all is me and Jesus. My first thought was, I don’t want to be popular. I’ve never been popular, well known, or a friend to everyone. That was my selfish thought. My next thought was, We are all connected by Jesus. We all have a Savior. That’s what should bring us together. Not because I know anyone, but because He knows all of us.

So I prayed. And mind you, this came at a time that could not have been orchestrated by anyone other than God. I’m part of a 13-week Bible study with dozens of other women, and we’re learning about experiencing God, being obedient, and knowing His will. The second week in, I sat next to my friend Jenna, and God clearly said, She’s your partner in this. Tell her about what I’m going to do. So I told her, and she was on board, without hesitation. It was clear: every week I was having conversations with women about their longing for connection and the clear gap there seemed to be in their involvement in the church.

Every week, I go back to one sentence from our Bible study that is changing me: Don’t just do something. Stand there. That hasn’t been me. When things feel uncomfortable, I bolt. When I have to wait for God to give me an answer, I most often make my own conclusion and go with that. If I’m about to do something that requires faith and a God-sized vision, I try to rationalize with my own knowledge and wisdom. In the end, I’m left wondering why God never came through. I realized it’s because most times, I’m just trying to do something. Not just stand here. His work gets thwarted by my busy-ness.

In the little things, God has been challenging my obedience. I felt led to connect with a friend one night, and so I called her, only to find out she wasn’t home or available to hang out. Our family had to wait nearly two weeks for my husband to get paid, which doesn’t happen as frequently as it used to, and I had to wait. I had to stand here instead of making the next move on buying things on Amazon I “needed”. I hid Rally from the world until I knew God’s direction. He has been faithful in leading us, and when He does, it truly feels like walking on water.

I wish I could tell everyone what God’s going to do, but I’m excited that even I don’t know. I know it’s good. I know He is going to do what I cannot. The word immeasurable keeps coming to mind, and I think it’s because He doesn’t want the numbers or the success of anything to be what I base His goodness and faithfulness upon. He is immeasurably good, and He will be faithful in bringing fruit.

Rally begins Monday, November 7th, and even if you won’t be there, can I rally you to pray over this? Pray over Jenna & I? I never want to just do when I should be still. I want to walk in unmistakable obedience, and I want you to join us.

Rally

A few years ago, I remember arriving at church and sitting down in our row. We sit in the same spot every week. Familiarity is comfortable, and we often sit by the same people every week. But that week, there was a new couple that sat a few seats away from me. I remember the woman was young, probably my age, and I didn’t recognize them. It wasn’t unusual to see someone new, there’s new people every week. But as quickly as I recognized that I didn’t know them, I realized that God wanted me to bridge that gap. Four or five chairs separated us. But really, it was about more than just reaching across chairs to connect; it was reaching across my fear of connecting. I wondered who that woman was, if she was new. I wondered if she felt like me at all, connected and yet so incredibly disconnected from those around me.

I never said hi. We never really looked at each other for the hour we sat so close. I can’t remember her face now. I had a chance to fellowship. I had a chance to bridge a gap, to connect, to be friends with a woman I didn’t know, and I refused. I chose to sit in my seat, my comfortable, familiar place in the church. I convinced myself to be okay with it, but you know what? I think of her sometimes. I’m not okay with the glaring reality that I missed an opportunity to walk alongside another woman, if only for a few minutes, because the safety of my own world was where I wanted to be.

The power of Christ compels me. I wake up at 6:45 AM so that I can find my direction from God that day, because I don’t want to miss the chances He’s going to give me. I’ve messed up before, but I don’t want to put up blinders. It’s like He’s turning on neon signs when I think of that woman I never spoke to, and the signs say things like, Love your neighbors. Love them. Talk to them. Be a friend. Go. GO! Where I thought I would only be a introverted person, God has transformed. He compels me to change. He asks me to be bolder where I’m scared, and I’m waking up at 6:45 each day so that I can draw on His bravery. I’m brave because He was brave. Bold because He was bold. Sure because He directs me.

When the Lord rains down truth on me, I can’t help but shake my head. It happens when I listen to worship music, or when I’m writing and words feel like hammers and nails, building something that feels out of this world. A little over a month ago, He rained down a truth and vision that I longed to run from, but as I sought out His vision and His will, He easily and adequately placed each step before me. A path that seemed too dreamy to be real, He made it.

Next month, my friend and I are starting something. No, actually, the Lord is starting something. The chances I never took are catalysts for this moment.

We’re rallying women.

As I write this, I want to turn back and hide this a little. It feels so big and so not in my control, because God is making a way. Yesterday morning He told me, “I will lead you,” as I waited for the next step. This is it. The next step is sharing with all the women I know how God is working.

I’m looking back at the women following after me, and I don’t want to leave them in the dust because I have children, or because I’m just enough older that we don’t have much in common. I don’t want to ignore women behind, women who have gone before, or women who are sitting just a few chairs away from me, waiting to feel connected. I’m looking at these women, and just as surely as God has spoken in neon signs before, He is adamantly saying, Go. Make disciples. Rally these women.

Here’s what this looks like:

I want you to get connected. I want you to know your value in the church, and I want you to know your value on this earth. I don’t have all the answers, but I know a God who does, and I am always a work in progress. This is me stepping out in obedience, and as much as I am shaking my head while He rains down glory, I am also afraid of failing, looking silly, being told I’m too young to rally anyone. But if that’s all I have to risk–my dignity–I’ll do it, for His glory.

I don’t care if you go to my church, go to a church across town, or never go to church. I’m rallying you to come find freedom in Jesus’ name with other women who want the same.

Rally is happening November 7 in Fort Wayne, IN. I am so ready to join together as women and fellowship, shift mountains, have real talk, and be sisters together.

If you’d like more information, connect with us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/rallyministry/
Or email me! Comment here! Send me a text! I’ll be seeking you out, too, so don’t be afraid of bridging a gap. I’m right here with you, sister.

Let’s Rally.

My List of Fears, Risks & Difficulties

If someone asks me to gamble or to take a risk, I will say no. I would be a boring contestant on Jeopardy. I would never risk more than I needed to on a Daily Double. Poker stresses me out.

I have a growing list in my head that I add to subconsciously. It’s all the things I think are too scary, too risky, or too hard. The list includes, but is not limited to:

  1. Making a cheesecake.
  2. Writing a novel.
  3. Being a leader. In just about every situation. (My first thought always, Someone else should definitely do this, not me.)
  4. Drawing.
  5. Running.

Some of these things are small. They won’t matter in a few years maybe. To you, they don’t seem like soul-shifting issues. To me, they do. They’re more than what you think.

I’ve never made a cheesecake with a springform pan. Silly, right? What does it matter, really? It’s just a cheesecake. But I’ve always wanted to make a perfect one. One without cracks, one that tastes perfect, one that I can share with people I love. But I don’t have a springform pan. I can’t justify buying one, because it’s just not in my budget. So I don’t make cheesecake. From the outside, it only seems like I’m scared to make cheesecake. Really, it’s me resenting that money doesn’t grow on trees, and that I can’t make the cheesecake I really want to make.

I went to college to study journalism. I lasted for days, and I didn’t like college. But I remember the day like it was yesterday, when I read a note from my third grade teacher who told me she couldn’t wait to read my book one day. I knew I was a writer, but I never went to school for it. I never got a degree, and I never considered myself a professional writer until I decided I was one. The idea of writing a novel feels like a mountain that will never move. I’m scared to even think of writing a novel. Maybe I never will. Sometimes, I convince myself that my lack of education is a reason to never dream bigger.

I like to be a follower. I can be a great follower. Rules are my jam, and I will always do things the way that has already been established. This one, the fear of being a leader, is actually one that I have overcome in the past year. Often, I would ignore that twinge in my stomach that was all God, saying, You can be the leader. You can step up. I never wanted to. I wanted someone else to do the job that I was called up to do. I didn’t want to follow a way that no one else had travelled. But, I’m quickly realizing that God has a specific way for me, and that might mean doing and living in a way that is different from others.

My son asked me to draw a bat for him last week, and I kid you not, my initial response was, “Absolutely not.” My brother is an artist. I am not an artist. I feel like my hands do not do what they are supposed to do. But, for the sake of love, I drew my son the ugliest bat I’ve ever seen. Drawing makes me feel self-conscious because it feels unnatural to me. I never liked it much in school. But in the middle of drawing the bat for my son, I actually started to like it. It wasn’t good, by any means, but even in my discomfort, I found myself trying. Trying something new makes me squirmy. I would rather do something that feels like something I should be doing, not something that makes me squirm in discomfort.

I used to be a runner. Never a fast runner, but I ran to stay in shape. Now, I feel the need to pee immediately after I start running, I feel like I need to wrap myself in a compression bandage to keep any jiggle to a minimum, and I feel winded immediately. A friend and I tried to be running buddies a year ago, and we gave up quickly. The fellowship was more important. The thing is, I want to be the runner I used to be. I resent my body for birthing three kids instead of being the body it used to be, and I don’t like that. I shouldn’t resent that I did something so incredible. Trying to be a runner, to me, feels like trying to be the woman I was, not the woman I am now.

So, hey guys. This is me. I used to be a play-it-safe kind of girl. But the Lord…you know what He’s doing in me? He’s loudly and deeply reminding me that He is not a play-it-safe kind of God. He wants to me follow a path He has, not a line that I’ve drawn on my own.

I look at my list of risks and fears, and they feel like mountains. Or they feel like walls. I want to believe I was created for purpose, yet I also want to believe that God can do anything. This should do a shifting in me: If God can do anything, then nothing that seems too risky is actually risky. Nothing that seems too mountainous is actually too big. Nothing that feels too difficult, confining, or restricting should be.

You know what God said of me when I was created? Good. You know what He said of me when I woke up this morning? Good. You know what He says of me when I am scared? My girl, you are good.

Really, it’s me resenting that money doesn’t grow on trees, and that I can’t make the cheesecake I really want to make. Sometimes, I convince myself that my lack of education is a reason to never dream bigger. But, I’m quickly realizing that God has a specific way for me, and that might mean doing and living in a way that is different from others. I would rather do something that feels like something I should be doing, not something that makes me squirm in discomfort. Trying to be a runner, to me, feels like trying to be the woman I was, not the woman I am now.

Money is not my Savior.
Education is not my Creator.
God knows a way that will lead me straight to Him.
I will do the impossible because I have a God who makes all things possible.
The woman I am now is the best version of me yet. Why? Because I took a breath this morning. And the woman I am now is changed every moment the Gospel rains down on my soul.