Day Eighteen: The Slog

Folks, we’ve officially reached the slog portion of Lent. Is that blasphemous for me to say? Maybe. But it’s the honest truth. I am grasping at straws right now to keep the motivation going. Hence this tardy submission…

It’s so interesting how ebbing and flowing our interest can be. Not three days ago, I was cranking out devotionals like my life depended on it, yet today, I could hardly find the motivation to begin writing.

It makes you wonder, why do we stay the course?

For one thing, it’s peer pressure. I’ve told people that I’m publishing a daily blog post for Lent, and I’d rather power through than be made to feel a failure.

Then there’s the (albeit sometimes faint) glimmer of reason as to why you began this journey in the first place. Hoping to hone my author skills and grow in exploring faith through narrative, this precedent has centered me when I feel wayward, pointing me toward a higher purpose than just checking it off my to-do list.

Finally, and most importantly, I think we hold tight to commitments because the Bible tells us to do so. In 2 Timothy 1:6-7, Paul speaks of such dedication: “6 For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. 7 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.”

We are made of stronger stuff than our own fleeting distractions or doubts. In “remembering to fan into flame the gift of God,” our determination points toward a larger, worthier picture. Suddenly, writing a daily passage…or volunteering for that service project…or calling your friend back…or even just pausing to pray for that person causing you grief…it gets us out of the slog and back to power, love, and self-discipline.

Food for thought: What’s a task that you feel is weighing you down? How can your change your outlook?

Day Seventeen: The Good Stuff

I’m just coming off a whirlwind weekend, having performed in a musical after a mere ten rehearsals. When I was initially asked to fill this role after changes in the cast members’ availability, I didn’t hesitate in saying, “Yes.” Not because I was so eager to sing on my own in front of an audience (frankly, that terrified me). But because I knew I’d be surrounded by friends who would cover any mistakes or slip-ups, without judgement or animosity. I knew these people were good.

Good to fail, good to be vulnerable, good to just be myself. And what do you know, it was everything I dreamt of and more. Did I embarrass myself at times? Absolutely. Was I ever fearful of not being accepted or forgiven? Not once.

Which makes me wonder: do I make people feel good? And I’m not just talking about within the realm of community theater…

Do I make people feel good when they’re grieving? When they’ve had their hearts broken? When they’ve lost hope? Am I a soft place to land when pain and suffering and shame are at large?

1 Corinthians 10:24 says, “No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.” 

How often do I directly reject this by choosing my own good—or rather, my own comfort, my own gluttony, my own ignorance—over others?

Thankfully, I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty incredible goodness-givers. I only pray that the next time I’m faced with choosing feeling good or doing good, I’ll go for the latter. And let Jesus take care of the rest.

Food for thought: When was the last time someone did something really good for you?

Day Sixteen: To Thine Own Self Be True

Hamlet is my favorite Shakespearean play (maybe my favorite story ever, actually). A tragedy, it does not end happily; in fact, most characters are killed after miserably making poor decisions that lead to their demise. Why then, does my Disney-Princess-Shirley-Temple-American-Girl-doll personality love Hamlet so much?

Because it is a mirror to what I consider one of my greatest flaws: overthinking.

My mother likes to say that my brain never shuts off, and it’s the truth. I am constantly playing out scenarios in my head—nothing of any significance, just thinking—pondering, really. Most of the time, it’s fun to be in my own imagination, but unfortunately, anxiety will strike and I will exhaust myself trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do.

…which is precisely the thing that causes Hamlet’s downfall…

In these throngs of despair, I like to turn to my dear pal Polonius, the king’s advisor in Hamlet. Bestowing advice to his son, Laertes, Polonius tells him the simple, yet poignant phrase: “To thine own self be true.” Modern translation: trust yourself.

My father has repeated this wisdom time and time again, which was a favorite of his great aunt (my namesake). But it’s more than just going with your gut; “to thine own self be true” is an offering to God’s grand vision. We are not merely accepting that our own wits will serve us well: as Christians, we relinquish our need for control in order to serve God.

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'”

Why overthink when we can rest in the promise of hope? Our future is prosperous if we follow Christ, so we may as well press pause on overthinking and be true to ourselves…and our savior.

Food for thought: What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

Day Fifteen: Two Years

I saw a funny tweet a few months ago that read, “I’m technically 26, but only 24 in Covid years.” Last night, I lived it firsthand when I went out with a large group of friends, many of whom I’ve only started to recently get to know. During a conversation with one of these newer faces, I was asked my age. I promptly replied, “27,” only to correct that actually, I’m 28…and turning 29 quite soon…

Can y’all believe it’s been two years since the world halted? My phone’s “On This Day” prompted a video posted by our senior pastor in 2020, filmed in an empty, dark sanctuary. My eyes swelled up as he spoke of how much he misses seeing the faces of people who shape this community, how we are facing such strife in being apart. But then he said something that has stuck with me these past two years and frankly saw me through the pandemic:

It’s just a building.

How many times did we realize that what we thought was crucial to our way of living was really just a luxury? Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined spending Easter worshipping at home or participating in a Christmas Eve service on a soccer field. But we did it…how?

Because Christianity is so much more than the building.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, “…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

In pausing to reflect on the ways in which God has moved through such dark times, I am filled with a sense of pride and, most importantly, gratitude.

Who could’ve predicted in 2019 what was to transpire? Who knows what any future moment holds? Whatever life throws at us, i pray to take a stance of gratitude, honoring the ways in which God has already bestowed so many blessings…no matter the circumstance.

Food for thought: What has been your biggest takeaway during the pandemic?

Day Fourteen: Legacy

I come from a very long line of extraordinary people. Both sides of my family contain some pretty legendary folk (a Mayflower descendent, soldiers in both the Revolutionary War and Texas Revolution, Sir Francis Drake, the Republic of Texas chaplain, etc.), and my (white) privilege of knowing my ancestors is something I do not take lightly.

On St. Patrick’s Day, my Dad always brings up my great great great great grandfather Richard Reily, who came to Texas in the 1840s to flee the potato famine. Fighting in the Mexican-American war and establishing a business and a family, Richard contributed to the DNA of go-getters that paved the way for posterity.

It’s an immense honor to think of the great things these women and men before me did, but I would not be sincere if I wasn’t slightly intimated by this precedent.

I have to ask, “What will be my contribution to this lineage?”

At my core, I think the thing I desire most is greatness. Not just being “good” or being “noteworthy” even…but great. When I (Lord willing) look back on my life, I wonder of what I’ll be proudest. Will it be something I did? Something I said? The way I interacted with my fellow humans? Or the ideas that turned into actions?

In Matthew 11:28-29, Jesus says, “28 ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’”

If I choose to follow Christ, then I need not be concerned about areas in which I will be glorified; no, no, my instructions are simple: take up the yoke of Jesus, and learn from him.

No mention of perfection, no command of notoriety. Just trust and humility. By pointing ourselves toward Jesus, we retire the notion that our worth is defined by our prowess. Does God celebrate with us when we succeed? Absolutely. But when life makes us weary and burdened, we have a savoir who gives us rest.

Greater than greatness, I am proudest to come from a long line of faithful servants. I leave you today with an excerpt from a devotional my Dad wrote a few years ago. He and my Mom…talk about a legacy:

“…Then I think about my extended family. Some of the people who have had the greatest impact on my life are my ancestors, including many I never knew. Some had the courage and faith to leave homes and family to come to frontier Texas or booming Houston, to make new lives as circuit-riding preachers, merchants, ranchers, or construction contractors. Others were teachers or salesmen or homemakers. Many struggled through wars and droughts and “hard times.” All made sacrifices to ensure that their children and grandchildren and great-great-great-grandchildren had better lives and grew up in homes of faith.…

…Thinking of this “great cloud of witnesses” humbles me, but also challenges me to do my part, to “pass it forward.” I try to honor the lives and sacrifices of those who have influenced me by doing the same for others, by finding ways to serve, to teach, to encourage, and to share God’s love every day. I’ve also come to realize that lives are transformed one touch at a time, and we may never know the difference made by even the smallest acts of kindness.“

Food for thought: Who is your greatest role model?

Day Thirteen: PB & H

It’s 10:45 p.m., and I’ve yet to write anything for today. Having gotten home late the last few nights (I’m in a community theater production), I open up the pantry and proceed to do what I’ve done now three evenings in a row: make a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

Taking my one slice of bread (I just want a half), I scoop out the peanut butter—smooth, of course—and spread it across the first piece. My mom walks by and uses the same spoon to snag a bite of peanut butter from the jar… She says, “I’m not even hungry, I just couldn’t resist.”

Finishing up my snack, I document my PB & H journey on social media, like a good millennial. Soon enough, my friend texts me to inform that he, also, has decided to whip up a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I receive a message from another friend in the show saying she wishes she hadn’t just eaten her own late dinner and missed out on this treat. I get word that the PB & H trend has reached mutual friends across the internet (and nation, I might add). We’re all living out our childhood fantasies of eating what we want, when we want.

Why does a simple topic like a peanut butter sandwich bring forth so much camaraderie? For one thing, it’s simple. Just three ingredients: bread, peanut butter, and a sweet sauce of your choosing (I grew up with honey). Secondly, it brings forth nostalgia, eliciting childhood memories and fond recollections of a simpler time…

Uncomplicated and unifying. The world is such a mess now, I think we’re all craving a sense of serendipity among the chaos.

Romans 12:16 says, “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.”

What’s more humble than a peanut butter sandwich? Life is rarely so straightforward, which makes cherishing the small stuff vital. Some issues are unavoidably messy, but we should all strive to keep our humility about us…and when in doubt, make a PB & H.

Food for thought: What brings you comfort? How do you bring comfort to others?

Day Twelve: It’s about the Twirling

In honoring the birthday of this post’s inspiration, today we revisit one of my Daily Habits published earlier this year. Keep twirling, friends.

Five o’clock p.m. is approximately my favorite time of every weekday. Not because my work has ended, no no no, I am far too much of an evening owl to quit then. I do, however, pause whatever business I am executing, grab my keys, and head downstairs with my best friend (who also happens to be my colleague). Poking our heads into the childcare wing, we are exuberantly greeted by my two favorite people in the entire world—her children. From there, I switch into Peak Rachel Mode TM wherein my imagination takes the wheel and I abandon all inhibitions. For a brief stint, I forget that I have two neglected projects with rapidly approaching deadlines. I forget that I need to call my dentist to reschedule an appointment for a double-booked afternoon. I even forget (once outside, of course) that we are nearly two years into a global pandemic.

No, for those fifteen minutes, my sole purpose is to bake imaginary vanilla cookies with rainbow sprinkles using couch pillows in the church’s Gathering Room. From there, I must avoid the lava by carefully walking along the balance beam, aka the brick pavers outside the Main Entrance. Lastly, I go pick out the best rocks, flowers, and other treasures to take home…or at least as far as the backseat cupholder.

The pièce de résistance, though, is the final act of our daily routine: twirling. Racing to the parking garage, I scoop each kid up, hold them sideways at a VERY precise angle (one we have agreed upon after MANY simulations), and begin my countdown:

“Ah-one, ah-two, THREE!!!”

Away I spin, gripping tight to their torsos as I watch the stationary cars blur into one, colorful cloud. Clocking some pretty impressive g-forces, I balance on the balls of my feet and brace my core so that we do not topple to the ground, shaking my head as I regain regular vision and catch my breath. Naturally, they insist on repeating the maneuver several more times, aspiring that each round be “the fastest we have ever done.”

We take twirling very seriously, our little band of buddies, to the point where my friend’s daughter and I run through a pre-pirouette checklist:

1.  Do I have pockets (to store our nature finds)?

2.  Do I have good shoes (for optimal spinning)?

3.  Do I have a flowy skirt (because why bother otherwise)?

One afternoon, my inspector was reviewing the uniform requirements when I realized my skirt had sewn-in FAKE pockets! One would think all hope was lost as I painstakingly apologized for this oversight.

Looking me squarely in the eyes, this *five-year-old wrapped her arms around my legs and reassured me with the simple, yet oh-so profound solution to my woes:

“Rachel, it’s not about the outfit. It’s about the twirling.”

Pockets are great, but they are not necessary for cultivating a true friendship, even so full of adventures.

Dreams are wonderful, but they do not have come true in our timing to keep hope alive.

God is almighty but is not so distant that we should worry with uncertainty about God’s love for us.

Genesis 15:5-6 says:

“5 Then he took him outside and said, ‘Look at the sky. Count the stars. Can you do it? Count your descendants! You’re going to have a big family, Abram!’

6 And he believed! Believed God! God declared him ‘Set-Right-with-God.’”

God blessed Abram and Sarai. He blessed their children, and their children’s children, and their children’s children’s children. God sent God’s only son, Jesus Christ, to live and die for us so that all who believe may be Set-Right-with-God. May we never forget his gifts are as many as the stars in the sky. May we never lose sight of the twirling.

*edited to reflect the subject’s present age

Day Eleven: Spring Forward

The beginning of Daylight Saving Time has not been a smooth period for me. In the roughly 46 hours since its start, I’ve had two terrible nights of sleep and out-of-whack days to match. As I told my mom this morning: “I feel like I’m jet lagged without having been somewhere neat.”

“It’s just one hour,” I keep telling myself. But this hour is on the heels of a very demanding schedule, busy week at work, and overall tumultuous time in society (and my own psyche). I feel silly for being so affected by 60 minutes, but like most things in life, this is a mere surface-level reflection of greater depths below.

Why “Spring Forward” anyhow? What difference does a change in season make?

Ecclesiastes 3 says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens…”

We know when transitions are coming: the Bible tells us, the weather tells us, clearly our alarm clock tells us! So why do most changes of season feel…rough?

Because even though I am excited for Spring…there are things I know I’ll miss about Winter. Warm fires, crisp air, cozy sweaters…I am sad to say goodbye.

But then I take a walk like the one this afternoon. And I feel the bright sunshine on my shoulders and hear a robin chirping. I pass by flowers just beginning to bloom…and then I remember that Easter comes with Spring.

Suddenly, that hour I’ve lost doesn’t seem like such a big deal. I’m thankful for Winter, but I know now it’s time for Spring.

Food for thought: What does Spring mean to you?

Day Ten: Trust Your Insticts

I’m going to be completely honest: there are some entries I write of which I am beyond proud…and others, not so much. Listen, if every item was considered “the best,” then none would be, correct?

It’s not that I don’t feel satisfied with every product I put out, but some I favor more than others. And what’s just mind-boggling to me is when those devotionals about which I’m more indifferent resonant the most with people.

To be specific, yesterday’s post was one I felt rather unsure about when I initially submitted it. Composed rather on a whim, I didn’t feel it had been given enough consideration, but hey, I had a deadline, so to my keyboard I went. And what do you know, the feedback was fantastic! All the time, I’m thinking, “But I’ve spent A LOT more time crafting other reflections…why this?”

Proverbs 3:5 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” So, am I supposed to just go with the flow and see where the wind takes me? Clearly I’ve been rewarded for (sort of) “winging it.”

…Not exactly…

After all, the frequently quoted James 2:26 says, “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”

So where does that leave us?

Balance, dear readers.

The ability to adapt and training to transform are marvelous, celebrated traits…but they do not manifest overnight. No, we must put in the hard work, the commandeering commitment, to give ourselves the freedom to lead from our instincts.

Like an Olympian whose muscle memory kicks in on the grand stage after a lifetime of practice, our dedication to learning and striving and growing equips us with the necessary tools to not withhold our talents or refrain from plunging into the unknown.

Speaking from the heart then becomes the standard itself, transcending earthly criteria for a Christ-led focus. We need only try our hardest…and trust our instincts.

Food for thought: Where can I release control? Where do I need to focus more attention?

Day Nine: It’s just fish.

(Disclaimer: I’m double-dipping with the Daily Habit, which published this devotional of mine this morning. Happy Friday, y’all.)

One of my very favorite past times is cheering on marathoners. Yes, God granted me the gift of volume and enthusiasm, two traits that come very much in hand when encouraging strangers along the route. There is an energy to the crowds that is unmatched; collectively, we provide no purpose other than to motivate the athletes whizzing past us to keep doing just that. And as a runner (yes, I have done ONE half-marathon…), the support is vital to maintaining one’s stamina while pursuing such a hefty goal.

But when the race ends, I walk away, silly sign and noisemaker in hand, back to reality. I get in my car, buckle my seatbelt, and head onto the streets of the city, where people speed up around traffic to wedge their way in. Then I walk into work where people brief me on deadlines for projects that I know will be draining and demanding. Finally, I head home to people who rely on me to be present and fulfill my responsibilities, even when somedays all I want to do is check out.

“Surely Jesus felt that way when he hopped in his boat,” I wonder… But that’s not our Jesus. He didn’t tire of people.

Matthew 14 tells the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000: “13 When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. 14 When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.”

For starters, he wanted to help everyone. Verse 14, right out of the gate, says, “…he had compassion on them and healed their sick.” Matthew makes a point to emphasize Jesus’ mission: helping people.

If Jesus served these exhaustive crowds, perhaps I also can try harder to tolerate my unruly fellow Houstonians on the road…and my ambitious colleagues at the office…and my all-consuming family at home.

Oof, but tolerance is not exactly hitting the mark. What’s missing in this equation is compassion. By leading with compassion, situations and people who I find irritating suddenly turn into an opportunity for my faith to really show up. The driver distracted by their phone at a red light suddenly gives me a moment to practice forgiveness and empathy.

And I can bask in gratitude that I get to work on a team that relentlessly serves our community. Through the lens of Christ’s example, I recognize what a blessing it is to be surrounded by people invested in my well-being and create an environment of unconditional love.

…Wait a minute, am I supposed to love everyone?! But surely, I do not have the emotional capacity for that, right?!

Well, Jesus didn’t just select those he deemed most in need of service (or in my case, the marathoners); no, he still went back to give his all for people, even those less-than-worthy. In fact, verse 21 even says, “The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

So why did Jesus spend what was left of the little energy—physically and mentally—he had?

Because it’s just fish.

Fish = having an ounce of patience with the person who wants to merge into your lane. Or humoring one more conversation with a coworker about an important task. Or embracing the differences that make up the beautiful mosaic of your family.

Loving people isn’t a chore. We live like Christ when we tap into his powerful love. Jesus readily gives his love to anyone and everyone. Love and loaves and fish. Surely, we can do the same.

Food for thought: When has someone gone above and beyond to show you love?