Do Less

Natalie Price

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

What Hagar Knew

Natalie Price

In 3 weeks, I’ll be moving to a new place with new beginnings. I’ll start over in finding all of my familiar places like walking paths and coffee shops. I’ll figure out the traffic patterns around our new neighborhood and find the best time of day to go grocery shopping again.

And while I think about those kinds of changes, it doesn’t take up nearly as much of my time than one other thought. When I leave this town weeks from now, I’m not sure that many people will realize I’m gone. And that is what quiets me the most.

I have a tendency to reflect on the past more often than I would care to admit to you, and from my reflections I craft my reasoning for my present decisions. Like how in the last 6 months, I’ve withdrawn from people in this community after a long period of initiating with moms from church and women my age I’ve met around town. I’ve been told by multiple people that it just wasn’t a good season for them to get together in the midst of raising kids and my texting conversations that sound like, “When are you free? I have Thursday morning available.” abruptly end after sharing my calendar. It’s hard not to believe that a year of stillness in my relationships won’t roll over for me into the next place. I’m not sure if my efforts weren’t enough or if I wasn’t exciting enough or deep enough or shallow enough…or if it was all simply out of my control the last 3 years.

I found myself diving deeper into what I could control, which was my work and my contributions to a company. In some ways, it has served as a life line for me. In other ways, it has brought equanimity to me. And then there have been the times where it’s felt like having a virtual job limits and prohibits my growth simply by not being proximate.

So that’s what has been weighing me in the last 6 weeks since finding out we’d be moving. It caused me to pause when I think about the life I’ve lived over the last 3 years and the low impact it feels like I’ve made in this town and I fear to repeat it again. There’s also a small part of me that wrestles with the idea of moving for my husband’s job with no clear direction on what’s to come for me.

I’ll keep my job, but will things continue to shift the less I’m able to visit the store? Will I be able to help people become the best versions of themselves as people and as leaders from an hour away? Will there be young moms like me who would want to get to know me or would want me to get to know them? Will our new church welcome us or have a community? Will Hunter’s new basketball community accept our family for who we are or what my husband can do for their sons?

As I was driving home on country roads Sunday night reflecting on our season in this town and thinking over what’s yet to come in the next place, I asked God if I’m ever going to feel like I’m home. And if shooting stars can work like thoughts, this is what came to my mind from the Lord:

“Natalie, I want you to know what Hagar knew. That I am the God that sees you. I not only see you, but I hear and know your heartbreak.”

What I know about Hagar was that she was told over and over that her life didn’t count in so many ways to a point where even when the real voices stopped, her inner critic would pick up where they left off. She felt used and forgotten. She was mocked and resented by people who also seemed to be following God. Can you imagine that kind of confusion on who to trust? She was forced to flee into the unknown, pregnant and alone and I can’t imagine the agony of feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, just to survive.

So while I don’t have anything worked out for what’s to come that’s concrete, this I know. He saw me in this town and he will see me in and through the next one. He has seen my work and will find me at my same desk weeks from now. He not only made sure Hagar knew she was seen by him, but he provided for her needs in the chapters of her life that followed.

He sees me. And he sees you. He sees every meal you made alone in the kitchen, every time you’ve pushed a lawn mower across the yard, and every instance you went out of your way to make someone else stand a little taller.

You’re not hidden and what you do does count when it feels like no one cares to watch, and you matter when it feels like you don’t. He wants you to know what Hagar knew. And I pray that you sense him whispering that to you like the hundreds of times I’ve needed him to whisper that to me.

May you be confident of what Hagar knew: that you belong to the God who sees you. And to the God who has chosen you for the person you are and who has a purpose for your life if you’re willing to let him know you from the inside out.

Take care & take heart,

Natalie

The Advocate

Natalie Price

Every Monday night growing up, my dad would take me out to Panera for dinner. We had this routine where he would wait on our food and I would get water for us in those tiny, clear plastic cups. I would carefully select the freshest lemon slice for my dad’s cup and fill both halfway with ice before finding a table. Being able to find an empty booth at 5:30pm always felt special, but beyond than that, I had the undivided attention of my dad.

Have you ever met someone who can ask really great questions? Questions that make you think out loud as you try to answer them the way you want to the first time without taking too long? My dad asks fun questions like that. Sometimes when I try to pull a memory, I can’t pin down how old I was at the time because in a sense to me, I’ll always feel like a little girl and my dad never ages. But on one of those Monday nights, my dad asked me who my favorite character in the Bible was at the time and I remember telling him that it was Joseph from Genesis.

After I had finished answering his follow up questions on, “Why Joseph?” it occurred to me to inquire about who his favorite Bible character was and why. In the years to follow, I have recalled this conversation to mind dozens of times and the older I get, the more I understand and relate to his answer. I remember a learning light turning on in my brain as my dad spoke on a character I had never heard of before. At my age, I had been taught about the main characters like Noah and Moses, David and Solomon, the 12 Disciples, Paul, of course, and women like Mary, the mother of Jesus.

But I had never remembered hearing of Barnabas. Once I got home and was able to put my finger on the very text my dad taught me about, I’ve never once forgotten Barnabas and here is why:

  • Barnabas’s real name was Joseph, but he made such an impact on people that the apostles called him Barnabas which was means “son of encouragement.” He was known for his generosity (Acts 4:36-37).
  • He was one of the first accepting people of Saul (who was to become known as Paul) and was able to advocate on his behalf to the apostles. Barnabas used his influence to unite people in Jesus’s name (Acts 9:27).
  • People called on Barnabas when they needed to be encouraged. Barnabas also sought out people to encourage and spent dedicated time meeting with others over the period of a year (Acts 11:22, 25-26). Because he got to know the people he spent time with, he was also able to challenge others in their spiritual growth effectively (Acts 14:3, 14-15).

When I read about his life, there is a part of me that wants Barnabas to take on more of a starring role in the story. When others defiantly hid their tithes and offerings, Barnabas was finding ways to give all that he had to the Church. When no one wanted to accept Saul into the apostles’ circle out of fear, Barnabas rallied support for him with his minority vote. When everyone needed encouraged, Barnabas helped set the tone. He was ridiculed, thrown out of places, abandoned by someone he invested real time in, his counsel was ignored, and I have to imagine that there were many times when the son of encouragement felt discouraged.

I want to know that a noble life like his gets more air time, more applause, and more appreciation on earth for going against the grain than what I read throughout the New Testament, but perhaps this very thought is where I miss the point. Barnabas knew that there was more. He understood his role and his purpose to simply give of himself with this tithes and his time.

What I gather from the text and what inspires me about Barnabas was that we often see him paired with someone else. He discipled while he encouraged others. He found strength in numbers by joining with Paul while he challenged the early Christians. He didn’t isolate himself and took joy in getting to invest in people. Acts 11 says, “for he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith. And a great many people were added to the Lord.” I love the last “and” right there. Because Barnabas lived by and through the Holy Spirit, we get the part where people came to Christ as a result!

I want that. I want to live a life that is so tempered by the Holy Spirit and the way that I obey His whispers in my life that people come to know Jesus as a result of our proximity. Barnabas held that influence through the way encouraged and advocated for people, and through his selfless generosity. He took the spotlight off himself time and time again. As he served as an advocate, the early believers were able to know the true Advocate, the Holy Spirit.

I am so grateful for the Bible. I am so grateful to find encouragement in this book when life seems confusing and I crave all of the credit. I love that Barnabas modeled a life that tells me that I too, can do this with Jesus.
And so. can. you.

Take care & take heart,
Natalie