I’m riding in the back of an Uber through lower Manhattan. The Sunday morning sun is blazing already and its light touches everything – tops of cars zipping by, people moving along the grid as one unit, buildings reaching for the sky like fingers. Every surface shimmers white hot.
While the world warms, the questions of my mind are stuck in place, immovable, frozen with fear. They are questions like, how did this THING become a giant in my life? why has Anxiety loomed over the recent days and weeks, like one of those ice statues guarding the White Witch’s castle? Because I can see it for what it is, even if I am powerless against it.
And then, like the warm light of the sun coming through the car window, the voice of the Lord comes to my heart: You of little faith, why are you so afraid?
All it takes is a question, from the One who is Light (and in Him there is no darkness at all). The root is electrified for what it is and I can see all the way down. I can see it clearly; anxiety over my circumstance is merely a symptom of the deeper thing, the chilly grip of Fear clutching my heart. It is here, at the root, that Jesus’ question illuminates the truth —I am afraid because I lack faith, the kind of faith that will slay the ominous, lying tongue of an Ice Giant.
I read a lot of books. To my husband’s credit, he endures the endless stacks of books sitting around our house; books that I’m currently reading, have aspirations to read or have already read and can’t part ways with just yet. I can *almost* relate to the late fashion photographer, Peter Lindbergh, when he said (God rest his soul),
I have a very big apartment in Paris but you can’t really move around there anymore; piles of books everywhere. I don’t want any more books. I have too many books; sometimes I have to buy another copy of a book that I know I have somewhere in my house or office because I can’t find it.
Like I said, almost. A Paris apartment stuffed with books?? Be still, my nerdy heart!
If you’re like me, you probably read a variety of things (classical fiction, biography, theology, and leadership- or tech-oriented nonfiction are my choices of late). Among other topics, I like to read about work and vocation. Not necessarily about business strategy or practices (although I will click on an article link re: those topics), but what I really LOVE to read about is the more significant journey one may take toward the work/career/vocation of our unique giftings and experience.
Social psychologists say that the average Westerner will spend a third of their life at work (approx 90k hours). And that doesn’t even count the work of domestic life or creative pursuits! Work matters, and the ideas we have about the meaning of work matters, too.
Today I’m sharing six books that I’ve read recently about work and why you might want to check them out (…of the library, which will make you a better person than my Amazon-addicted self).
In my humble opinion, summer is the most challenging season to dress for work —especially if you (1.) work in a professional setting and (2.) live in a warm climate like I do. The humidity and high temps of the South are unforgiving and I, along with many of my friends, have to get a little creative with our summer style for work. What about you? Do you live in Austin and work in finance? Work in government in our nation’s swampy capitol? You’re probably feeling this too…
Yes, it is miserably hot some days and yes, we have a bit more physical maintenance to deal with (at least in the hair removal department, but I’ll leave it at that)…but we still want to look and feel good when we go to work. Also travel is picking up for most organizations, so there’s another scenario where we need to feel put together and not look like a sloppy mess.
For the good of the order, I’ve culled a few summer looks for work that will hopefully get your gears going. Sometimes all we need is a little inspiration, right?
My youngest son came to me this morning, asking as he does every morning, to fasten the velcro closures on the back of his Spiderman costume (he wears this thing like it’s his job). Only this time, he looked me in the eye and asked, “Are you tired of doing this? “
What a funny question for a four-year-old to ask! I was surprised that he had the emotional capacity to shift perspectives in that moment and question how I felt about doing this thing that I do almost every day. And, of course, I answered (sincerely), “No! I love doing this.”
Because it’s true. I love that he loves this costume and wants to wear it every day. I love that his imagination switches on as soon as he’s suited up. I love his patience as I fasten all three little fuzzy circles together.
I love him; therefore, when he comes to me in need, I want to meet him there every time.
Is it obvious where I am going with this? I can’t help but hear the echo of my own questioning heart in my son’s question.
God, are you tired of me coming to you? Are you annoyed at my inexhaustible need for you? Are you done healing my broken places? Bored with hearing the same old prayers and petitions?
In his slim commentary, Reflections on the Psalms, C.S. Lewis characterizes King David’s passionate worship in Psalm 27 with words like “gusto,” “rowdiness,” and a particular “Hebraic delight” expressed (for example) in verse 4,
One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple.
Here is David coming to the very center of his desire, to what he longs for above all else…all while his enemies are pressing in on him and the refrain of war echos in his ear. It is in this terrifying moment that David writes of his eagerness to cross the threshold and enter into the courts of Yahweh. For David the Israelite, to experience God was to be in the Temple, on God’s holy and divinely-established ground.
But glancing back at Ps. 27:4 (above), we might naturally ask questions like, Who is this Lord? And why does David get so excited in his worship?
The book sat on a side table in my bedroom, the one over by the corner fireplace, for six months.
The oil portrait of its central character stared at me from the cover with those stoic, challenging eyes (like only Russians can), seemingly asking the question again, “Are you ready now? Is today the day?”
And then, a couple of days before Christmas, I was able to answer, “Yes, today is the day.” Finally, after months of looking the other way, I picked up Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina and began reading.
those eyes…
Why had I resisted this book for so long? I bought it after reading (and hearing) multiple recommendations from trusted literary sources, but it just plain intimidated me. I wanted to read it, but I was scared that I wouldn’t “get it.” I was afraid that Tolstoy would make me feel stupid.
I don’t know about you, but the first half of this year flew by in a flurry of work and family life. Almost without notice, months had passed before I realized that my personal writing was taking a serious back seat to everything else going on. Even before the holidays, I sensed my internal/creative/mental gears shifting.
It wasn’t planned, mind you, but once that calendar clicked over to 2021, something in my brain said,
“Nope. Not ready yet.”
And I was like, Okay, brain. Let’s switch gears for a while.
I decided to listen to that instinct and take a step back from my regular blogging and newsletter writing (and social media interaction) and allow myself to focus on other areas of productivity. Like the final classes of my undergrad degree, which have been amazing but, you know, demanding of my time and energy…
as well as my actual job (the one where I get paid) of professional development consulting…
and my perpetual role (the one where I get headaches and sweet hugs) of mothering.
While the conversation about the gender pay gap is nuanced (for instance, women tend to work less traditional hours and choose more flexible careers), I’m all for tearing down any stigma that may still exist around the phrase “working” mother. The truth is, every mama works! I’ve already ranted about how Big Media loves to offer the (obnoxiously) narrowly defined glam version of the “working mom” here, while the rest of us are living a very different (and down-to-earth) reality– somewhere between the carpool line and our Gmail inbox.
So for now, I’ll just add “Mother” to my LinkedIn profile and invite you to connect with me there (if you so desire). Whether we are changing diapers or fielding client requests, we all want to know that our daily work has meaning.
Inadvertently, I chose to take the first quarter of the year to re-direct my internal resources to other, less public areas of my life because I am finite and I’m learning to acknowledge my limitedness (I think this is called humility…?) But the time off gave me a fresh perspective on something so subjective that it’s sometimes difficult for me to make clear assessments on, that is, about my work as a writer.
A quick digression: The twentieth-century German Catholic philosopher Josef Pieper wrote a famous essay in 1948 about the idea of “leisure” –that it was not the simple absence of work, but the attitude and perspective to be able to contemplate things outside of their immediate utility.
We see the lack of true leisure (ironically) in the uber-wealthy who “live a life of leisure” and are still extremely unfulfilled. Precisely because they have not given their life over to something bigger and more meaningful than their own comfort, they are unable to experience authentic times of leisure.
We see the highest form of this when Jesus would pull away from his time with the disciples and public ministry to go and be alone with the Father. Jesus was resting, praying, being filled up, listening, contemplating, and abiding in the love of God. How much more do we need the time and space to gain a more full, rightly aligned, and eternal perspective of our lives?
Pieper wrote,
“Leisure is the condition of considering things in a celebrating spirit…Leisure lives on affirmation. It is not the same as the absence of activity…It is rather like the stillness in the conversation of lovers, which is fed by their oneness…
And as it is written in the Scriptures, God saw, when ‘He rested from all the works that He had made’ that everything was good, very good (Gen. 1:31), just so the leisure of man includes within itself a celebratory, approving, lingering gaze of the inner eye on the reality of creation.” (Pieper, “Leisure,” 33)
I haven’t yet experienced a dramatic “a-ha moment” from my time of pausing/stepping back from writing on the internet…but I am enjoying writing this post to you immensely. I mean, I really missed you guys! And for now, that feeling of joy is more than enough.
And -funny timing- right smack in the middle of this quiet time, an article of mine was published in Be Still magazine. What a fun surprise to see that in my mailbox! If you haven’t yet picked up an issue, you can do so here.
Here is what I’m learning: I am human, and therefore a limited creation (by design). He is God, and without limit. If we believe that God is our loving and generous Creator, and if He made us to be limited in our resources, then let us honor the reality of our nature (and place our trust in His infinite one.) Our ultimate freedom and daily joy will be birthed from the acknowledgement of this foundational truth.
Let’s listen to the whisper of the Spirit and take those moments of leisure to step back and fully appreciate who God is, who we are, and the wonder of all that He is doing in our lives. In this sense, leisure is a very real part of living coram Deo, and I’m here for it…what about you?
p.s. I recently came across some writing of Jonathan Rogers (one of my favorite authors and a fellow Tennessean) and interestingly, he also referenced Pieper’s thoughts on leisure. Must be something in the water. You can read his letter here.
There’s more that rises in the morning Than the sun And more that shines in the night Than just the moon It’s more than just this fire here That keeps me warm In a shelter that is larger Than this room
And there’s a loyalty that’s deeper Than mere sentiments And a music higher than the songs That I can sing The stuff of Earth competes For the allegiance I owe only to the Giver Of all good things
So if I stand let me stand on the promise That you will pull me through And if I can’t let me fall on the grace That first brought me to You And if I sing let me sing for the joy That has born in me these songs And if I weep let it be as a man Who is longing for his home
There’s more that dances on the prairies Than the wind More that pulses in the ocean Than the tide There’s a love that is fiercer Than the love between friends More gentle than a mother’s When her baby’s at her side
And there’s a loyalty that’s deeper Than mere sentiments And a music higher than the songs That I can sing The stuff of Earth competes For the allegiance I owe only to the Giver Of all good things
So if I stand let me stand on the promise That you will pull me through And if I can’t let me fall on the grace That first brought me to You And if I sing let me sing for the joy That has born in me these songs And if I weep let it be as a man Who is longing for his home
And if I stand let me stand on the promise That you will pull me through And if I can’t let me fall on the grace That first brought me to You And if I sing let me sing for the joy That has born in me these songs And if I weep let it be as a man Who is longing for his home
And if I weep let it be as a man Who is longing for his home
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