The Steadfast Heart

One of my favorite videos on the internet is by Trey Kennedy called “Do Less, God Bless“. I fall over laughing every time he references people going to the unnecessary extremes in life that need to do a whole lot less. It’s side-stitching funny to me and “do less” has become a strong phrase in my vocabulary any time I catch people taking things to the extreme.

The irony is that I’m the one that needs to do less. I’m not sure what the main cause of me going into panic mode this week has been, but I feel frantic from a million little things. Not in an anxious way, but more in a desperate-to-control-what-I-can’t kind of way. My feelings are deafening to me and my mouth has yet to figure out what my brain already knows: no amount of talking about what I can’t change is going to solve that very thing.

And yet, here I am. A close family friend who is a licensed therapist told me when I was a middle schooler that I take on feelings three to five times more intensely than the average person. While it was a shocking statement to me, it’s served me well over the years to understand that I at times can be in my own stratosphere of pain, disappointment, frustration, excitement, confusion and every feeling in between. And while it at times it can be comforting to have an explanation for the depth of my emotions, it’s isolating all in the same breath.

But I’m grateful for words. I’m grateful for a second chance at sorting through the magnitude of my feelings that seem to take up rent in my chest while I think out loud on paper. The funny thing about emotions for me is that they always seem to be urgent and don’t stay silent for very long, not usually anyway. To remain quiet for me is to deny authenticity, but to vocalize myself is to be at risk of my heart not landing with safe people who can help steward the weight.

Do you ever get done reflecting on your day, only to conclude that you just weren’t that impressive? I’m forever indebted to the people that take the time to listen to me every time the pendulum swings to the other extreme, but for days especially like today where I just seemed to spew how I felt about people or how situations made me feel threatened and panicked…I would love to do a whole lot less. My massive need to verbally process how things feel can turn into a persuasive speech in a matter of seconds and change the trajectory of how others view the people or situations I feel so fiercely about. I’m very aware of how I need to be slow to speak and quicker to steady my heart so I can actively listen.

So tonight, after a long week of wrestling with the change I consistently resist, my prayer is to get to a posture of doing less, of controlling less, amidst the impossible of feeling less. One of my recurring, subconscious thoughts is that people who have the ability to suppress their feelings are strong, and I am not. I wonder if some people suppress what they feel to avoid exposure to pain and disappointment. I’m just not that good.

I’m pausing on that thought to redirect to the question: What if strength is actually the ability to feel your feelings, but ultimately surrender them to the One who is stronger?

My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.

2 Corinthians 12:9, New Living Translation

One of the fights of my life will always be between controlling my circumstances so that I can recorrect inadequate feelings I desperately try to avoid — and — surrendering control by sitting in the rubble to purposely, longingly sit closer to the feet of Jesus.

My final question for heaven tonight as I watch the sun set is, “If God designed me to hold so much passion and so many sensitivities, what beautiful picture did he have in mind for me in the way that I steward them?” C.S. Lewis used to say that, “Pain is God’s megaphone.” In my life, I want to be so near to him that he only needs to whisper to me.

May we lead lives that hear the loving whispers of Jesus
as His grace perfects our weaknesses
and fortifies our character.

Take care & take heart,
Natalie