Immersion

If you are Southern born and raised like me, you know a little about immersion. I’m talking hot summer days and swimming pools. The feel of water washing over you the first time you go completely under is incredible. You can almost physically feel the cares of the day washing away.

But to get that feeling, you have to give up being dry. You have to not care about your hair. You might end up dealing with a little pain, because everyone knows being in the water can intensify a sunburn. You might experience water in your nose, or ears, or eyes. But for me, the carefree moments in the water have always been worth it.

I’ve been thinking lately about immersion in life. It would be nice to be qualified to talk about this, but my only qualifications, like with so many topics I broach here, probably come from failures.

Immersion is not something that is taught at Teacher’s Prep. At least, it wasn’t years ago when I attended. I wish it had been. But no one tells teachers that part of their job is giving themselves completely to the congregation. No one warns them what it takes to blend in to a new way of doing things and a new youth group.

It’s easy to try to hold a little part of yourself back, to wait for people to reach out to you, first. That’s my nature, anyhow. But immersion means learning how to give. It's such a beautiful thing to watch those who appear to effortlessly become part of a place.

One of the definitions of immersion is “deep mental involvement.” I love immersing myself in a new subject. There have been plenty of them over the years: personality types, camels, ancient architecture, female pilots from the 1910’s-1940’s, medieval life, learning and behavioral disabilities—the list could go on.

But immersion into a congregation is usually a little harder. There have been times when I’ve moved to a new place and consciously held back from the vulnerability of giving myself completely, days I’ve tried to keep a clear line in my mind between me and “them.” Instead of blending, I hold myself apart, keenly aware of the different that is me.

Deep involvement in a place requires more than just mental positioning. It requires heart involvement. It requires getting to know people in a way that allows you to cry with them and laugh with them. It requires letting them know you in the same way. It requires forming connections in the moments of time in which you exist, letting yourself be completely present.

Immersion means becoming part of a type of harmony in which your existence could go completely unnoticed—it doesn’t really matter whether you are there or not. The spaces you leave are easily filled in, and the spaces you fill are filled smoothly if done correctly, with hardly a ripple caused at all.

But here’s the thing: It isn’t just teachers that need to practice immersion. Most people will get a chance to practice it at some point in their lives. The young bride, moving to a new congregation. The youth girl, submitting to the fact that her youth group isn’t as fun as she wishes or starting her first job. The woman who struggles with holding herself apart from the congregation because she feels different. The career girl who suddenly finds herself married with a family, and is trying to accept the un-glamorous reality of being a homemaker. The wife supporting her husband’s position on the schoolboard or trying to figure out what a youth leader’s job actually is. The missionary’s wife, trying to learn a whole new culture.

Sometimes we fail to give ourselves fully because this isn’t what we wanted or imagined it would be. Sometimes we might feel a little rebellious about where we are, grudging to embrace this part of life we didn’t want. In one congregation, I felt bitter because I didn’t even want to be there. But what I have discovered is that if I can submit to God’s plan and Delight myself in the Lord…he will give me the desires of my heart (Psalm 37:4). There was joy waiting for me when I finally reached a place of acceptance. I cried many tears when the time came for me to leave.

It’s so important that I keep my purpose in the forefront of my mind. And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men (Colossians 3:23). It’s easy to start focusing on what I want out of a situation and feel burdened down by the perceived expectation of having to work to please those around me.

But it’s not my work at all. It is God’s work. And I can safely trust Him to take charge. I can leave the details completely in His hands. I am a servant, not a manager.

To let go of my own pride and ideas and allow myself to become part of whatever state I find myself in and therewith to be content (Philippians 4:11), is rarely easy. But as the Psalmist writes, Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence there is fullness of joy; at thy right hand are pleasures forevermore (Psalm 16:11).

So this is to you, and to me, too. A reminder that immersion is a place of blessing, not regret. That submission is a heart-set, not a natural reaction. That letting God take charge means letting go.

And most of all, a reminder that although the plunge might feel terrifying, you will also discover a joy you’d maybe forgotten existed.

Wishing each one a week of fulfillment!

Versions

I’ve been thinking about how we change as we go through life. What would it be like if we could put all the versions of ourselves together in a room? The 5^th grader, becoming aware of how big life really is, the insecure sixteen-year-old headed to the first youth deal, the person you’ve become as the true weight of life settles on your shoulders.

Following is an excerpt from something I once wrote titled Dear Girl I Used to Know:

 

I don’t know exactly when you disappeared, that girl that made up songs while driving on the Mississippi River levee. The one who hauled a scarecrow along to an organized youth deal… How long has it been since I’ve seen you, the girl who crawled on her belly through the grass to sneak up and fix window clings on car windows? Who sang off key on purpose and at top volume with her friends late at night? The girl who has a sordid history with dummies and toilets in Tennessee.

 

There are days I miss you—the way you laughed so readily, the way you truly believed that all the world was at your fingertips. How you were innocent enough that you were not afraid…of big dreams, of the future…

 

There are days I think of you and smile wistfully. I know I’ve outgrown you—some friendships are like that—but I wouldn’t mind squeezing into a vehicle with you and laughing until my sides ache once in a while.

 

The girl in this letter has long since been replaced. I wonder how many versions of me are left? Is it fair to compare the past versions of me to who I am now?

Too many times I look back and cringe at the younger me. The current me is mortified and impatient with what she sees. The current me wonders how in the world my parents put up with raucous sleepovers and string confetti and girls making up songs at midnight after eating chocolate cake. How did my boss have patience for the things my young coworkers and I put him through? (There was far too liberal a hand when it came to fixing certain stickers to people’s backs and tying tags on apron strings.)

If I think about it long enough, I start wondering how God had patience with me. I did so many things that I shouldn’t have. I stumbled about and made mistakes and had to ask for forgiveness again and again.

Paul speaks in Philippians about forgetting the things of the past. If only it was that easy!

I want to think that things are “one and done.” Somehow I get stuck on the idea that since I was saved at a young age, I ought to have lived a fairly perfect life since then. I ought to be making all the right decisions and know just how to present myself by now. But the truth is, I don’t. I still mess up. I still make mistakes. And let me tell you, my mistakes look pretty big when I compare them (which of course, I shouldn’t) to the tiny mistakes of others. They talk about little things like feeling selfish or being impatient. My sins look much bigger. 

In 2 Peter 1:2, we read that “Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord,” (Go ahead and read verses 3 and 4, too.) This verse gives me a tiny glimpse of hope. Maybe I wasn’t meant to have everything figured out. Maybe if I make choices to continue to know God and His Word and His will for me, there’s hope that I can grow.

And then there’s Philippians 1:6: “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” This verse helps to bring things into focus. God has begun a work in me. It is not finished. I need to trust His timing.

When I realize I am a project and not even supposed to be perfection like I so often mistakenly believe, things look a little more doable. I am able to give the younger versions of me more room, more grace for the mistakes and poor choices and the bad attitudes. I am able to hold more gently who I once was, and regard that person as beloved of God, not disdained. He has spent so much effort trying to refine me, I must actually mean a lot to Him.

I have a terrible tendency to spend so much time dwelling in the past and worrying about the future that I forget to be present in the moment where I am.

Understanding that I am a work in progress and being OK with the disastrous past and trusting an unknown future into the hands of God, gives me the space to be in the now. I don’t know the “day of Jesus Christ” until which I will be continuing to be sanctified. All I know is that God’s timing will be impeccable. He will not expect me to be a finished vessel months before that day comes. Relaxing into God’s timing for my growth means I can relax into a place of peace and joy. It means doing what I know in the moment and leaving the rest up to Him. It means continuing to find new versions of myself as He continues His good work.

And those other versions of me? The ones from 10 years ago, or 5, or even a year ago? If I could hang out with them, they would remind me of how far I’ve already come. They would probably tell me the progress is greater than I realize. That girl from 18 years ago? She would tell me to breathe easy and laugh freely. It might even be good advice.

And so I say the same to you. Don’t let things from your past dictate your future. Those old things that you’ve already been forgiven for can be rendered helpless to steal the joy of today. Lay your future into the hands of the One who knows how to do the work—it is a good work, remember—that your life needs. Trust that He will perform that work when, where, and how it will be most beneficial for you.

I really think what I’m trying to say here is to trust God. Trust His compassion and understanding for where you’ve come from. Trust His grace for where you are. Trust His love and desire to give you good things in the future.

Trust the process. Change is scary, but there cannot be growth without change. And there’s no one you would rather have working on your vessel than God.

 

Epidemic

 The World Health Organization has declared loneliness a global issue. Referred to as an epidemic, the weightiness of being lonely has an equally devastating effect on one’s physical health as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. The impact on mental health is also catastrophic. Incredibly, it seems that professionals have estimated about one in every three people is struggling.

On the other hand, we live in an era of continual human contact. Rarely do we go a single morning without receiving a message on one of our many apps. We can listen to recordings of songs, sermons, books, and lectures without a break if we wish.

In fact, many people have a deep dread of sitting with themselves in silence and facing their own fears and beliefs. Many of us stay busy constantly rushing from one activity to another. But something is missing.

I’m not so sure that what we’re facing in our Christian communities isn’t less of a loneliness issue and more of a connection issue. The problem is not as related to how many people we see as it is to how many real connections we make. It’s less about our proximity to humanity and more about learning how to be vulnerable with those we do encounter.

Obviously, we aren’t expected to bare our souls to each person we meet. The truth is, while we are meant to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), none of us have the capacity to bear every burden of every person we come in contact with. Nor are we expected to place our troubles into the hands of someone we have not formed a trusting relationship with.

But it’s too easy to live in our own small orbit without being open to anyone. And the more we digest of the world around us, the harder it often becomes.

Many of us live with comparison (2 Corinthians 10:12) every time we attend a social event. We see how the sister across the room is so much more socially adept than I am. We recognize the gifts of the woman who comes bearing delicious food and bustles around the kitchen. We notice the perfectly fitted dresses and carefully coordinated outfits. We see the well-behaved children and the pleasant smiles and instead of recognizing that these are the gifts and graces of a generous God, we begin to ruminate on our perceived lack.

These thoughts quickly lead us into believing we are different and alone. Almost without realizing it, we start to cover up our insecurities however we can. There are many ways of doing so, but all lead back to us withdrawing our true selves and making sure no one discovers the inadequacies of which we are far too aware.

The more we draw back, the more terrifying the idea of vulnerability becomes. And somehow, we start placing blame on other people.

"They should be the ones reaching out."

"Why aren’t I ever invited along?"

"If someone else was facing the same situation as I am, plenty of people would have offered help."

And so it is that we withdraw even further. Not only that, our vision starts to become clouded with self-pity and bitterness. No longer do we merely sit with sadness and disappointment, we find ourselves becoming judgmental as well. It is easy to forget that I have a part to play. Does anyone even know you are going through a trial? Do they know you could use help? While we are to be saints on earth, we are only human. We are not able to “just know” what is going on in someone else’s life if they haven’t shared with us. While the Holy Spirit can and does move in us to reach out to others, it is part of the beautiful plan of God’s Family that we be open and allow others to help us.

It's so easy to try to be independent. There are many things we can do by ourselves. Some are even capable of carrying great weights completely alone, but this is not a safe path to travel. Much like you should never go spelunking, free diving, or wilderness hiking alone, neither should we try to live our lives without the companionship of others.

Many times we excuse ourselves from vulnerability because, we say, we don’t want to burden someone else with our troubles. That may be a valid concern at times, but so often it is completely unfounded. I want you to remember the time someone was vulnerable with you. That moment when they trusted you with the true things of their heart. Were you upset at the extra weight you were given?

No, of course not.

Rather, when someone entrusts their true self, battered, bruised, scarred, and broken into my hands, I count it the greatest privilege. It is an honor to have that trust bestowed on me, and I know I don’t deserve it. I feel unworthy of their confidence. I am sure you feel the same.

Know that you and I are not the only ones who feel that way. There are many sincere and solid people of faith in your community who would be equally blessed in the knowledge that you were able to be open with them.

What do you get out of openness?

A lot, actually.

Letting someone else help bear our burdens relieves our own minds of some of the weight. We have more capacity to face the responsibilities we have. We have more support—whether physical or the simple support of prayer. And with our willingness to be vulnerable, we open our hearts to true shared connection with someone else, doing just a little bit to combat loneliness, whether our own or someone else’s.

Above all, it is God’s plan that we are a connected people. I don’t think it’s taking 2 Corinthians 12:9 too much out of context to add my own thoughts. The verse says, “…My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness…” I always understood those words to mean that God Himself would step in with His strength to fill in my gaps, and I do believe it means that many times. However, I’ve recently begun to see how this verse applies to a vibrant brotherhood where the strength and beauty of God’s Spirit becomes evident as we come together to lift one another up.

Humbly holding the weakness of my sister up before the Lord, whether that be physical, spiritual, or emotional, also has the effect of making me more aware of my own needs and weaknesses, my own insufficiencies and dependence on those around me. As we become aware of our neediness, it is then we move closer to one another and closer to God, making a strong, united body.

My own light and wisdom is not enough to walk the path all the way Home. I need my Church family to help me. It’s my desire to grow in vulnerability in a way that will honor the perfect plan of the God whose name is Love.

 

 

6-7

Recently, Dictionary.com announced its word of the year. To quote, the word is chosen by reflecting on “social trends and global events that defined that year.” Some past examples are as follows: demure (2024), hallucinate (2023), woman (2022), allyship (2021) and pandemic (2020).

The word of the year for 2025? 6-7.

6-7 is a slang term that has evolved from a secular song released a year ago in December. It quickly made its way into the world of basketball, and from there it was short work for it to start appearing everywhere. Well, everywhere, perhaps, except my vocabulary. I remember reading references to the trend months ago, talking about teachers in the public school system being frustrated by the seemingly random use of the word.

But what does 6-7 mean?

Dictionary.com says this: “Perhaps the most defining feature of 6-7 is that it’s impossible to define…It’s meaningless, ubiquitous, and nonsensical.” The word can take on whatever connotation the user wishes—including annoying responses (“How are you?” “6-7.”), as a dismissive answer, an interjection, or when indecisive, somewhat like a verbal shrug.

What does choosing a word that doesn’t even really have a meaning say about the global position of humanity? I cringe to imagine.

Here we are, clutching at a word that you can’t even grasp because there is no substance. And that is a very good illustration of where many people are finding themselves.

We’ve worked so long and hard to get rid of all fences, lines, rules, and boundaries. We say we want freedom from societal expectation, from other people’s opinions, from whatever binds and restricts what we want to do.

But it isn’t making anyone happy.

We were created by a God we cannot comprehend. It was His delight to give us free will. However, our very souls know He is greater than we are. Because the soul recognizes a supreme God, there is unease and insecurity when we step away from submission to His laws. We are like boats without anchors, kites without strings, footballs bouncing across a field. There is no order, no safety, no stability.

1 Corinthians 14:40 says “Let all things be done decently and in order.”  Our God is a God of order. Sometimes, it is true, we get caught up in our ideas of order and forget they are different from God’s. While we often focus on the small physical things (exactly what shoes are acceptable, how a hostess ought to receive her guests, maybe even which drawer in the kitchen towels belong in), God is much more interested in the heart and our submission to Him.

Interestingly enough, true submission to God also requires that we submit to the order of His Church. Although my feelings may sometimes be aroused when I see how things are carried out or decisions are made, it is vital I have an innate understanding that my safety and security is in abiding within this structure.

Our anchors must be steadfast in Him. Our respect and trust for and in our Heavenly Father will be a grounding power that will give us always a safe place to land, even amid the confusion around us. “For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33). There are many who are nearly drowning in confusion. It is easy to find ourselves in a similar state. The Evil One wants us to question the Church and its guidelines and the inconsistencies we see. He wants us to take note of the way the governments around us seem to be spinning out of control. He likes us to feel bad for calling evil things sin, as he would much rather we give allowance to both our own flesh and the flesh of others by taking a live-and-let-live stance.

I don’t want to be a 6-7 Christian, wandering in aimless confusion. I want to embrace the guidelines of the Church and the encouragements of my fellows. I want to have open and honest discussions about the things I don’t understand, but still appreciate that my own desires are subject to a Higher Power. I want to be willing to recognize that in the view of God, my own ideas are nonsensical. My will is only at rest when submitted to His.

The funny thing is, when we have guidelines we feel so much more confident. I won’t question my use of the word “captivate,” for example, because there is a prescribed way to use it. Contrarily, the word 6-7 which allows for so much freedom makes me uneasy. When is it socially acceptable to use? Exactly what does it mean if someone says it to me? What is an appropriate response?

 And so I commit myself to clinging to something solid—the God of Love. I commit to finding joy in the boundaries He provides. I commit to abiding in the peace that only comes from Him.

And I hope that you will join me.

Building Fences

It is not my intention to make anyone feel badly about sharing their struggles with someone else. We all need help bearing burdens at times. Neither am I trying to give room for selfishness. These are my own opinions based on observations, and I understand you may not have had the same struggle. You are welcome to disagree.

A community I once lived in contained a compound of houses. Everyone who resided on the yard was related in some way. One day, however, a major change came about at the compound. A fence was built down the center. It was a large fence, a high, solid wall that one could not see through. There was nothing cozy or comforting about the wall. I heard through the grapevine that the wall was built because of a quarrel that seemed unresolvable. 

It was a conversation about this fence that brought a thought to me one day. Perhaps, if the residents of the compound had built a cute little picket fence years ago—you know, the kind roses climb on in pictures, the kind neighbors lean against and chat, where you can drop scraps to the dog in the yard next door—perhaps they wouldn’t have had to build a proverbial wall today.

Generally, we think of fences and walls as ill-advised additions to one’s life, yet haven’t we all seen them become necessary at one time or another? If there are no fences to keep cattle in or dangerous creatures out, we will end up with a problem. If there is no fence to mark the border between two yards, disputes can pop up about how to care for the lawn or what should be built or planted where. It’s important to know the borders and understand the boundaries.

It's also important in our daily lives.

If we go through life without setting any boundaries*, we are leaving ourselves open to become bitter and resentful people. Don’t believe me? Think about it just a minute. Let’s look at an example—something that could really happen.

Imagine you have a friend who is going through a difficulty. Now this friend really does have a bad situation going on, and because you are a true friend, you hear about the issue a lot. Mostly, she talks on and on about her problems, bad-mouths people who don’t see things from her point of view, and complains about how life isn’t fair. This is all OK, you can handle it for your friend, you think. After all, what are friends for anyhow? You’re sure thankful for the friends who have listened to you in times of distress, right?

And so you listen.

But somehow, your friend never quite manages to get things out of her system. She starts calling every day to talk to you about the same old stories. The first time the phone call takes an hour and a half, you sigh a little and go back to your work. But the next day, she calls again. It’s all the same things you’ve heard what seems like a million times. Again she talks for an hour and a half. After that, the phone calls become regular. Every day she calls, and every day, because you don’t want to feel like a bad friend, you listen.

Maybe you feel guilty the first time you sigh. Maybe you make excuses for yourself when you groan out loud as her name pops up on the caller ID. You are tired today, you don’t have the time or energy to listen to her for this long every day. But you keep answering. You grit your teeth and try to use your sweet phone voice. You’re glad she can’t see you glancing at the clock. But one day she calls and you just really can’t take it any more. Your own life is looming large. You have problems that aren’t going away. Your time-schedule is not working out, and does nobody care about your problems?

This time you might actually snap at her. Maybe you tell her, none too graciously, that you can’t talk today. Maybe you give her a frustrated sermon about actually listening to your advice for once. Maybe you just don’t answer the phone. But you feel like a terrible person afterwards. 

Whatever happened there? That surge of anger and frustration surely didn’t come from nowhere, did it? You are ashamed. You’ve failed at being a good friend. You feel sorry for yourself. It’s not like you should be expected to carry everyone else’s burdens, too, after all. And it isn’t much of a leap until you begin to feel resentment and bitterness creep into your heart.

And you should carry your friends’ burdens. You shouldn’t be feeling angry and frustrated. You’re right about that. But the problem did not start today. The problem started the first few times your friend called. The first time you realized that these phone calls were taking up too much of your time and emotional energy. Some good clear communication and fence building would have been in place way back there.

A fence built on a day when you don’t feel frustrated doesn’t turn into a wall. A fence built when you are thinking clearly and calmly is made of white pickets and rose bushes and a darling little gate that sometimes gets left open. A fence built on a good day is one that is not offensive or confusing. It’s a fence built of love that can have the ability to strengthen your ties to others rather than destroy them.

Your fence with your friend could have been simply letting her know you don’t feel like you can spend more than fifteen minutes on the phone. The fence could have been saying, “You know, I prefer to talk in person. Could you write down your struggles and just come over for coffee once a week?” Your fence might be harder to build—“I’m so sorry, I love you and I’ll pray for you, and if there is something I can do to help you out physically I would be glad to do that, but I’m feeling emotionally exhausted right now, and there might be someone else who could be a better listener.”

Those who build picket fences seldom have to build walls. As long as you respect your own fences, you won’t find yourself suddenly and inexplicably blowing up at someone else. You won’t be distraught at the callousness you suddenly find within yourself, your complete inability to care anymore. You won’t find yourself so burdened and drained by the problems of others that you can’t even focus on your own family, feelings, or relationship with God.

Relationships are very important to me, and I cannot express enough how crucial it is to be a listener. In Philippians 2:4 we are commanded Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. That doesn’t seem very compatible with building fences, does it? But I think it is. Because a few verses later, we are reminded to Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. 

Our own salvation is the first of our concerns. And like the cheerful flight attendants who remind us to put on our own oxygen masks before helping our by-sitter, we need to leave ourselves emotional space to work out our own spiritual life. We cannot do this when we are constantly overwhelmed by others.

Occasionally, it is this giving of ourselves to others that makes us feel needed, worthy, and validated. We forget that our validation comes from God and Him alone. We don’t need to work ourselves ragged trying to save the world in order to feel good about ourselves. Neither is it a healthy way of winning approval from those around us. This, too, is a fence that must be built, the ability to say no on occasion, and then not feel guilty about it. Oh, yes, I’m right there with you. I often am pathetically delighted by my diet of guilt. Somehow, I think feeling guilty will validate me.

But God does not want us to walk about laden with guilt for the times we’ve said no. Even Jesus built fences while He was on earth. Remember how he went by himself to the mountains? How He went apart from His disciples to pray? He gave and gave of Himself while in the flesh, but He knew when to build a fence and spend time with His Father so He would be able to continue giving.

This is true for each one of us, too. While reaching out is simply an extension of the person who has been saved at Calvary and rejoices in the resurrection at Gethsemane, we are all too human. We have not been built with the endless ability to give. 

And so today I want to encourage each one of you (along with myself) not to close up your bowels of compassion, but to use your God-given empathy carefully, to build a fence if you need one before things spiral out of control and you find yourself building a wall. We serve a God who will smile on one who opens the gate and communes with the neighbor, but our God is not a God of walls.

*Read the book Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend

Enthusiasm

 "Enthusiasm is a form of social courage." -Gretchen Rubin

I was in seventh or eighth grade when we did a writing exercise where we had a set amount of time to write on any topic we liked. I chose Nefertiti. Maybe you don’t know who that is. No one else in my class, including the teacher, did either. But I’d read an article about the beautiful Egyptian queen and I was intrigued and enthused, not only with the person, but with the work of art attached to her name. I wanted to share my discovery with everyone else.

Seeing the blank faces around me as my little writing was read aloud in front of the class, I immediately became embarrassed about my choice of topic. I discovered, in that moment, that perhaps it was better if I kept my niche interests out of sight. It took years before I became brave enough to share my random enthusiasms with others again.

That’s not the last time being enthused about something caused me embarrassment, and you’ve probably had a similar experience. Maybe you’ve just read a book and fallen in love with the story, but when you bring it up, someone has a negative comment about plot holes or character traits. Maybe you have a favorite song and the message speaks to you, but someone else groans and criticizes the way it’s written. Maybe people tease you about the way your eyes light up over your favorite coffee drink or store or recipe. They might have suggestions for something better or reasons why your choice isn’t top tier.

A few years ago, I listened to the book, The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin. One sentence caught my attention and has given me food for thought on and off ever since. “Enthusiasm,” Rubin writes, “is a form of social courage.” She goes on to explain that skepticism is often viewed as being more intelligent than pure and humble enthusiasm. Thus, when we are enthused about something and someone else starts pointing out faults, we immediately assume we are not as smart as they are and start questioning our own taste. For many people this can lead to hiding their true opinions. It can also make them afraid to show enthusiasm until they know if those around them are enthused as well.

But the reality of life is that we all love people who are enthused. I have the greatest respect for my friends who get excited and spearhead amazing projects. I love the sparkle of a person who is enthused about the sunset or a tiny flower or the subtle taste of a delicate flavor. I don’t mean that one needs to be loud and flamboyant about what they like, just that they aren’t afraid to show they really enjoy something.

Since reading this quote, I’ve thought about how I can support my enthused friends. It can be hard to feel like you’re the only one excited about something. Perhaps they’re planning end-of-year games for the school’s play day or decorating for a bridal shower or trying to get a group around to play games some Saturday evening and it seems like others are willing to plod along, but no one else is sharing the joy. I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve been one of the plodding ones. I can’t manufacture enthusiasm to match what my friend has, so what should I do?

I’ve decided the place to start is by showing interest. If I want my friends to retain their sparkle, I need to let them know I see and value the energy they are exerting. I can find questions to ask and ways to volunteer. And suddenly, as I get involved, I start noticing little sparks of enthusiasm welling up in me, too.

This isn’t a new principle. We see it play out in any scenario. Dry Sunday School discussions and singing at nursing homes with the youth are a couple of common examples. Yet when someone is willing to be enthused, to let positivity lead instead of negativity and skepticism, the result is a more enjoyable experience for the whole group.

I started wondering how this would impact my Christian life. What if I let my passion for God and my enthusiasm about being in His service show a little more? What if I turned conversations toward what He has done for me instead of falling back on something a little less personal? It takes vulnerability to be enthused about something that rests so near our hearts, but imagine the pay-off: a vibrant, enthused, alive group of believers who encourage and support each other. A group who are not afraid to make sacrifices or start new outreaches. A group whose sparkle lights up the world.

We are to be a people who Rejoice evermore (1 Thessalonians 5:16). And whatsoever ye do, we are told, do it heartily, as to the Lord (Colossians 3:23). Then, in 2 Corinthians, we read: Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver.

These are not traits of people who are afraid to be enthused. If enthusiasm really is social courage, Christians will possess it. Sure, you won’t feel enthused every minute of every day, but it will be there in the joy you feel when you make a soul-connection in deep conversation. It will be in the wonder in your heart as you listen to the minister preach the message you prayed for. It will be in the peace you treasure as you start your day with God.

Enthusiasm, like love, will grow and expand and give. It takes being willing to be humble. It might take looking dumb when you ask a simple question in Sunday School. It may make you feel funny to compliment your spiritual sister on how you see God moving in her life.

I can’t make you be enthused. That’s impossible. You can breathe a sigh of relief, because I don’t plan to try.

Do you remember the song that says, “Enthusiasm! Come on let’s be enthused?” I have only taught one or two students who actually liked that song, and that was because one of them, at least, got vivid images of a beaver on a hamster-wheel world when we sang, “It’s the eager beavers that make the world go ‘round.” I think the general distaste is because you can’t force kids to be enthused just by telling them to be so. Neither can you force adults.

But I can commit to being enthused myself. I can commit to vulnerability and humility and not fearing what those around me might think. I can commit to fostering a passion in my Christian life. And I can commit to being courageous and enthused in Christ.

I’ve so much enjoyed contemplating enthusiasm for the last few years. You might say I’ve been enthused about it. Maybe you’ll have ideas to share with me, too, because I’m not sure I’m done thinking about it yet. Maybe you’ll tell me I’m wrong about something or that I’ve overlooked an important facet of the situation. Whatever the case, just know I’d be enthused to hear your thoughts.

Have a marvelous weekend!

I Noticed You

I noticed you.

The youth girl that quietly went out of your way to stand beside the girl who was standing alone.

The mother whose child was crying because he was tired, and you were so patient with him.

The youth boy who went about unobtrusively picking up chairs and running the vacuum in the fellowship hall.

The school board member who always had time to talk and answer questions and never made the teachers feel like a burden when they needed something fixed.

The upper-grader who let the younger student catch him at recess.

The single girl who reaches out to others with an open heart and delicious food.

The grandma who listens to the chatter of those around her without murmuring a word to make them feel judged, even though she probably knows all the answers.

The person who wrote their name down to help with Bible School, even though it was out of their comfort zone.

The woman who has helped plan a hundred baby showers and bridal showers, and signs up to help with one more.

I noticed you.

And what I noticed about you was God.

Or maybe I should say the grace of God.

Those are small things. I know you believe they are. But it takes a special dedication to serve God in those small ways that don’t get a lot of recognition. It’s those little every day choices that show where your heart is set. And I just wanted to let you know someone noticed—even if it was just me.

But it’s not just me. It’s our Heavenly Father, too.

I wish I could tell you how many people I’ve heard say they don’t have any talents. I’m not going to go into why I don’t believe that because I’d probably end up writing a book, but it’s the very same people that I see doing so many little things for God, and as all talents are a gift of God, I think we could agree that they are indeed talented.

Maybe you struggle with feeling used. I’ve heard some of you say that, too. That you are always left with the dirty work behind the scenes, getting scant thanks for all the times you’ve volunteered to lead the prayer or been recognized for all baseboards you’ve cleaned or the toys you picked up off the schoolyard after the potluck.

But I want to tell you that I think it is just such acts that God is looking for. Your ability and willingness mean so much to Him. You can read about it in Matthew 25, where the man who had one talent hid it in the ground. You can see how he was blind to his own potential—to the reaches of his own gift, just like you sometimes are.

And don’t forget the words written in Luke 16:10a: “He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much.” I don’t know who needs to hear this, but don’t weary of well-doing. Don’t lose your smile because you start listening to the lies of the Evil One telling you that you are unimportant and without a purpose. He would like nothing better than for you to believe this. Because, with that belief, you’ll start to give up. You’ll start thinking your choices don’t matter. You’ll stop living the life of open-hearted giving and start turning inward, start becoming resentful towards God who loves you and created you to fill such a special place for Him.

1 Thessalonians 5:11 says “Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and edify one another, even as also ye do.” A number of other translations use the word encourage rather than comfort. This is something I would like to do better in. I want to encourage all of you to stay true in the little things. Choices are rarely insignificant, even if they seem so.

So tomorrow, when you choose to put down your phone and read a story to your four-year-old, take courage that your choice means something. Someone notices.

When you take a moment to pray for a blessing on one of your brothers or sisters, it means something. That’s being faithful—and to say it is “in the least” is our human judgement, not God’s.

When you are stuck in the kitchen doing the dishes again, that’s faithfulness.

And when you take the time to encourage those you see around you, thank them for all the ways they serve, that’s faithfulness, too.

It’s never been the grand gestures and glorious gifts God has looked for. It’s always been the small things that come from a sincere heart. It isn’t the big things that will win us a place in Paradise, but the little things that will lead us all the way Home.