Go Gently.

On Friday the 13th of November, Sam finished the second of his Biblical languages classes. This summer he powered through Greek and in the fall he championed Hebrew. He studied intensely, and we intensely supported him. Our family traveled to Tennessee and then to Michigan for Thanksgiving. We came home to St. Louis on the 28th, and on the 30th, Sam began his first full-term here at the seminary. Basically this means a lot of reading and a lot of writing, and a new transition to a new schedule for our family. It hasn't been easy.

Our post-travel week last week had me in a tizzy. The kids were slightly out of sorts, and I was working hard to re-establish our normal patterns of eating and sleeping and disciplining. Sam's new class load was already overwhelming, to him and to me. And then there was Advent and Christmas to be thinking about. You know, the season of joy, of expectation, of reflection? But this was not the season I was experiencing. I was anxious, overwhelmed, tired, and busy. I was thinking of gifts - the ones to be bought and the ones to be received. I was thinking of traveling to North Dakota and making a mental list of everything I needed to pack and a second mental list of the things that we absolutely couldn't forget. I hopped on Amazon and accomplished the last of our shopping, talked to people about gift ideas for my children and my husband, and I started packing a box of the things we absolutely could not forget to take to North Dakota. I survived the week. But that's about it: I survived. I didn't enjoy. I didn't reflect. I didn't surrender. But suddenly, I remembered.

I remembered a line from my devotional: "Go gently through this day, keeping your eyes on me." I read that line on October 26th, and it has been lingering in the back of my heart ever since. "Go gently." This phrase is so simple, so ordinary, and so profound. It is also in complete contradiction to how I was living. I wasn't going gently. I was trudging. There is nothing gentle about trudging.

We live in a world that champions the notion of business. Busy is a sort of status symbol, a marker as to the success of your day. If it wasn't a busy day, it couldn't be productive or meaningful, right? If your life isn't busy, you must be doing it wrong, right? This sort of thinking leaves us frazzled and exhausted, because trudging is exhausting and time-consuming and leaves little time for peace and reflection. Especially this time of year when our calendars are covered in plans to party and bake and create and attend.

"I am not sure I know how to go gently," I humbly admitted to a God who already knew. "What would that even look like?" I wearily asked. Here is what He said, "To go gently is to invite me into every moment." Going gently involves constant conversation with Jesus. These conversations appear simple, almost unnecessary but are in fact the most necessary of all. I ask Him what is next. Sometimes the answer seems almost silly. "Well, dear child, laundry. Laundry is what is next." Other times, He tells me to rest, sitting in a chair reflecting on Him or snuggled up with my kids on the couch watching a movie while a mountain of dirty dishes sits on the counter. He also tells me when to deal with the mountain of dishes.

The verse from Isaiah 9 comes to mind. "For unto us a child is born, to us a Son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

I smile to myself. I should have learned this lesson long ago. I smile again, knowing I will learn this lesson again at some point.

He knows what we need exactly when we need it. He knows when we need quiet and when we need loud. He knows when we need to be near friends and when we need to be alone. Because He knows us. He created us. He came to this world for us. He left His Spirit with us. He desires our hearts, our lives, our days, and our moments. He reigns, and when Jesus is reigning over our moments, there is balance, order, peace. Even in a world plagued with violence and tragedy, a world where tension and arguments run rampant, He is here. And He is saying, "Go gently, dear child. I am here. I am reigning. I bring peace to your weary heart and to this broken world. I bring joy to your days and clarity to your moments. Go gently with me."

A Case of the Weevils

We drove to St. Louis on a Tuesday. We moved into our apartment on a Wednesday. We frantically worked to get as settled as possible before Sam started a Greek Intensive course on Monday. We did fairly well. We even visited the zoo that Saturday. Sam’s parents came to visit. The kids and I traveled to North Dakota for several weeks to visit my family. My mom stayed with us for a week after that. The dust began to settle and our apartment started to feel like home. I grocery shopped and meal planned and worked to make a life here for my people. Things felt slightly strange but each moment brought a new sort of normal to our world. The boxes were unpacked and pictures were hung and I felt relaxed.

While my children napped one day, I worked to bring a little more order to our kitchen. As I was doing this, I spotted a tiny bug crawling across our kitchen floor. I took care of the bug and moved on. Until I found more and more. I kept thinking I had defeated them, but they kept coming back. After finally discovering what they were – a weevil, a type of bug that breeds and lives in rice and flour – I came up with a plan of action. My strategy involved lots of vinegar, bay leaves, and freezing our rice and flour. “There,” I thought, “we did it”.

But we hadn’t. There were more. And I cried. Goodness, did I cry. Wasn’t it just days before that I finally felt like the ground beneath my feet was solid for the first time in months? Hadn’t I just finished figuring out my kitchen?  And now here I stood, at a complete loss, tired from scrubbing and spraying, my nerves shot, my anxiety levels high as the contents of our pantry lay scattered around our home.

I finally admitted defeat and threw out almost our entire pantry. (Read about weevils if you dare and you will understand the necessity of this step.) I had fought to avoid this step; because you see, when your husband quits his job and you move several states away so he can attend school, money can be a major source of stress. And throwing out over $100 in food hurt, and to be completely honest, it terrified me.

I was frustrated, tired, and a little angry with God. I feel silly even writing this now, because to be angry over bugs seems a bit ridiculous. But I was. I was angry. My anger ebbed and flowed while I anxiously waited to see if we had really, truly, once and for all, taken care of the bugs. As I waited, I would hear: “Do not be anxious.” “Right, I’ll work on that”, I would think quite sarcastically. “Sure, I just won’t be anxious about these bugs or money or food or how my home feels turned upside down... again.”

We beat the bugs. We moved on with life. And my anger dissipated. I slowly refilled our pantry and tried very hard to not be anxious about money or food. And then one day while my children napped, there was a knock on our door. I looked down and there sat a box from Omaha Steaks, a box filled with meat. And then came that small voice: “Do not be anxious.” Tears welled in my eyes as the words of Matthew 6 flooded my heart:

“Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

This generous gift was in every way undeserved. This person didn’t know about our bugs. But God knew. And isn’t it just like our God to replace rice and flour with steak and burgers?

I pray this post finds you in a place of peace; but if not, I pray that you will hear His voice – “Do not be anxious” – for He knows every need.

The Thing About Following Jesus

This morning as we strolled through Target, the four items we needed already in our cart, Emmylou said, "Mama, I am ready to get Dolly back from Colt's house now." Tears welled in my eyes. My first thought: "Pull it together, Kelsey. You gave that dog away in January." But she wasn't just some dog, she was our dog, Emmylou's best friend and my constant companion. 

As we stood in the checkout line, I desperately looked around for something that would make me feel better. Coke... No. Chocolate... Maybe. A new magazine to mindlessly page through... And then somewhere in my head or heart or wherever those words come from, I heard, "Come, follow me." In a moment, I was transported to another place. The place? The Sea of Galilee. Jesus is walking beside the sea and he calls out to two brothers.

"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him. Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John. They were in a boat with their father Zebedee, preparing their nets. Jesus called them, and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. (Matthew 4:19-22) 

Our family spent the better part of a year preparing to move to St. Louis, MO, so Sam could attend Concordia Seminary and pursue a Masters of Divinity with the purpose of ordination and full-time pastoral ministry. That year consisted of excitement and grief, fear and lots of physical preparation. But those four fishermen? They left at once, immediately. They left their nets, the very things that defined who they were. They left their families - at once. Because the thing about following Jesus is that it requires sacrifice and sometimes it's hard and sometimes it is even harder because you don't know the final destination. 

I wonder. Did the disciples have questions? "Um, sir, uh, Jesus, where exactly are we going? Do you have a long-term plan here?" I imagine Jesus calmly handled their anxiety. He wasn't afraid of their questions or fears and He isn't afraid of mine.

Because the other thing about following Jesus? There is hope and there is purpose for He is good. There may not always be concrete answers, but those days when all I feel is the sacrifice of it all. On those days when obedience only feels hard - He is there. And He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us. (Ephesians 3:20)