Cease Striving

"I walk to the meadow and see all the flowers, better dressed than any girl on her wedding day. So why do I worry? Why do I freak out? God knows what I need.
He knows what I need."
-Jon Foreman, "Your Love is Strong"


"Cease striving and know that I am God."
-Psalm 46:10, The Bible


When I was a little girl, my sister and I shared a bedroom and a bunk bed.  I would sing to her at night sometimes, and if I was on the bottom bunk, I would kick the bottom of her mattress, just to be silly and to annoy her.  We were both being formed, growing up in that room with the three windows, the stuffed animal shelves, and the bunk bed.

On the wall near our door was a poster with the feet of a ballerina on point, wearing silky pink point shoes.  I thought it would be wonderful to be a ballerina, so beautiful and graceful, or a figure skater, like Kristi Yamaguchi.

On that ballerina poster was a quote, and I have always been a sucker for inspiring quotes.  I read the words like a devoted student, over and over to my little girl heart: "Strive to be the best you can be."

And I did.

I was a straight A student.  In high school, I was not just in band, not just choir, not just theater, but German club, too--ja wohl!  I was really active in my church's youth group until the last couple years of high school, and I took to heart the message that my mission in life was to go out and save the world for Jesus.  I really cared about throwing my heart and my effort into this mission, like some sort of love soldier.

The problem was, somewhere along the way, I started to feel...well, nothing.  I started to feel nothing.  I stopped feeling, and entered burnout at the ripe old age of 17.  I was so tired, but I felt like I needed to keep proving that I was good enough, that I could be the good Christian, the perfect friend, never happy, always smiling, always giving, never thinking about my own needs.

And Elizabeth, the real human being, got buried deeper and deeper inside my layers of perfectionism.

These days, I am starting to realize like never before that God loves me.  He doesn't just love everyone else, and He doesn't think my needs are illegitimate because they are different from other people's.  He was the one that came up with the idea for me in the first place, and He is the one who will not only "see me through"--enable me to survive--but He will love me through.  He wants me to thrive, whether that be in a desert or beside a waterfall.

He will never leave me.  He will make my pain worth something beautiful, he will speak to me with joys so specifically made for me that they bear a unique fingerprint, marked by the Maker for one daughter in particular.  And He will tell a story with my life.  A good story.  A story about Himself.  In other words, a subplot in the grand epic of all time.

This good news is for you, too.

And not only is He heart-wrenchingly specific in His love for me and for you, but He is sovereign.  He's the boss.  This is where it can get hard, to say that God is in control of everything, even the bad things, and I could take us in that direction if I chose.  But, stay with me, just for the sake of this one blog post, because I want to say that I am starting to realize the comfort of knowing that God is sovereign.

Everything, absolutely everything good, evil, confusing, splendid, calm, loud, inexorable is under Him.  If I don't understand what I think I need to understand, or if I see someone I'm attached to going through something hard or going in a direction that hurts them, I am not required to freak out.

In fact, I am told to do the opposite!  What a God.  Philippians 4:6-7 says:

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

The verse right before this (verse 5) describes what I experience when I remember that God is in control:

"Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near."

When I know that the Lord is near, I become gentle.  I don't have to fight anymore.  I don't have to try and pick up a heavy weight that my muscles are too weak to handle.  I don't have to break my back trying to save my friends or make the grade or impress people.

That's a message I need to hear as much as you do.  Because I'm not always calm, and I feel alone sometimes, and I forget that God loves me and is the boss, and I act out in my frustration.  And I bet you do, too.

And on top of all of it, all of my failures and freak outs, and on top of all of yours, God is still both loving and strong.  (Psalm 62:11)



The Lord is near.  Ahh...