What it Costs

You’ll never lose by
digging deep, staying true, not giving up,
building character in the crucible of challenge, breathing in, hanging on, & becoming
more weighty below the surface
than you are impressive above it.
Louie Giglio

Have you ever thought about how you want to be remembered? What do you want your friends or your kids to think about when they think about you? It’s a giant question I’ve been asking myself lately.

It’s been a tough year. I’m not sure anyone could have planned for 2020 like this and it’s caused us all to wrestle with uncomfortable what-if questions. What if this doesn’t get improve? What if I get sick and don’t see improvement? What if this goes on for months and months? What if more of what I looked forward to this summer or this fall gets cancelled? The hardest part of this season is that every variable is unknown and we’re not in control.

And man, does it feel like Groundhog Day. I’ve lost count, but it certainly feels like I’ve lived the same day over dozens and dozens of times. We have one of those giant desk calendars I like to put on our fridge because of how big the squares are for each day of the week. I started the year thinking this would be great for fitting our schedules into, until we got to April and now May, and the days are still left blank. The size of each empty space seems to taunt me every time I wander for a snack (which, if we’re being honest is at 30-minute intervals at this point in quarantine).

Compelled to experience a different start to my day this past week, I went for a walk at 6:30 in the morning. 27 degrees is one way to really wake up, in case you’re wondering. But as I walked, I kept coming back to the question I didn’t want to answer. How do I want to be remembered? I’m not promised anything in this life and as painful as it is to reflect on my own mortality, it’s a true reality I’ll face someday. The sun began creeping up as I walked in silence to the sound of my own footsteps and empty thoughts. I couldn’t think of anything. Not one thing.

Until this idea came. “I want to be remembered for being patient.” I literally laughed out loud. What? That’s what came out of my heartfelt search for what mattered to me? I couldn’t think of a word that describes me less than the adjective patient. But as I kept walking and the sun continued to rise, it occurred to me that if this is really true, I am a long way off from modeling the life I want to be remembered for.

If I were to carry a spirit of patience, a domino effect of other attributes would follow. A patient person stands close to humility. With a patient heart, over and over you see compassion, too. When patience is present, so is peace. I’m not sure how often people around me experience these characteristics being lived out of my every day interaction with them. In fact, as of lately, I know this hasn’t been true of me most of the time. Most of the time, I’m more concerned about what practicing patience will cost me.

Patience requires self-control, endurance, and equanimity which are three things that have always felt unachievable to me. Controlling my emotions and tempering my attitude has so often seemed like I was giving up my authentic self-expression. Pressing on in light of feeling misrepresented, misunderstood, or minimized by not trying to correct someone’s opinion of me is my biggest relational struggle.

When I’m not self-aware of this, I interrupt conversations to push my own opinion through before other ideas can override mine. I live life in absolute haste. I compete with the clock to get things done exactly the way I want things done. And worst of all, I don’t slow down enough to love on my people the way they need to be loved: intentionally and unhurried.

For me, living a life of patience, of gentleness — it costs me. It costs me to surrender my selfish plans. It requires me to take ownership of being wrong. I have to come to terms with the reality that feeling misunderstood doesn’t mean I’m not seen. If anything, I’m being given another opportunity to be refined.

Even now as I continue to wrestle with my pride, I realize I’ve been focused on the wrong side of the sacrifice. Jesus, in all of his patience and perfection, counted the cost for me. He added up my selfish, habitual behavior, my resistance, my conceit. He carried the weight of my unkept promises to try harder when all he wanted was the realness and rawness of my heart. Jesus knew every bit of what my vacillation would cost him. And yet, he allowed my flaws to hold him to the cross, to take his last breath. The price he paid for me took his very life.

But — in all his sovereignty, my mess wasn’t greater than his love for me. I’m not bigger than his mercy and I’m not above grace. So when I struggle with not wanting to suffer in my small, self-centered world, I have this hope: I have what it takes to be patient because Jesus is ever-patient with me. I have been extended the gentleness and endurance it requires to love beyond conditions. By spending my years trying to live out of this kind of steadfast perseverance, I hope what people ultimately remember when they think of me is this one thing:

Loving people so intentionally is worth the cost of surrending ourselves over to Jesus. He turns our feelings of hiddenness into the ultimate hiding place where we can truly know his peace and be his peace to those we are called to love.

Take care & take heart,