The Steadfast Heart

One of the books I read this month was called “How’s Your Soul?” by Judah Smith. As I was checking the book out of the library, I joked with the librarian that it seemed like a pretty light read. She didn’t laugh.

The question that Judah asked throughout the pages was, “When was the last time your soul went home?” It’s one of those questions that makes you sit and think hard. For me, I sat and thought so intensely I needed an intermission from the gravity of the question.
To give you more context, Judah based his book off of the Bible and how our souls were created to live at home with God. Four of the “check-ins” for the question of, “How’s your soul?” he laid out are:

• Rest
• Responsibility
• Restriction
• Relationship

Can I be honest? I feel like I’ve stunk at all four of these–equally. So when the question of how’s my soul kept coming up again and again, my untrained response was, “Not good!” every time. I have this tendency where I love to spend an eternity naming all of my problems, but can’t get out of the conversation fast enough when it comes to finding a solution. To say my follow-through needs some work would be totally fair.

I’m writing this as an absolute work-in-progress, wishing I had more substance than my candor to put on this page. Do you ever feel like you have 19 things going simultaneously, and yet you can’t seem to focus on any of them or finish just one thing well? Yeah, same. That defeating feeling is followed by “what if” and “if only” statements and then the state of my soul oddly never improves.

I’m not sure where along the lines I adopted the try harder mentality, but the pendulum dramatically will swing between that and a white flag, I-surrender-all-Jesus posture in the span of an hour on any given day. I’m exhausted by my own complexity and can imagine most people feel as if they just ran a marathon in their minds trying to track with me. If you ask Hunter, I’ve won an uncanny amount of Emmy awards and there are times I wonder if my parents secretly pay him monthly for all of his patience with me.

A few weeks ago, my friend Courtney asked me a question that helped reframe my train of thoughts.

What is something that is saving you right now?

My answer today is song lyrics. I think God created music for our souls. I think he knew that we’d struggle to find adequate words for our feelings at times and I believe that he provides multiple avenues for us to arrive at a place of worship. This song caught me off guard this week and helped me throw up my white flag a whole lot faster than my own thoughts could get me there.

I’m so grateful for moments like that. I’m in awe that Jesus is after my soul. That he provides a safe place for me to find mental and emotional rest. I love that none of my overreactions to things provoke a stronger response from Jesus than his complete understanding.

May your soul feel at home today. May you know that you are fully known and fearlessly loved just as He finds you. Take care & take heart,

Natalie

As You Find Me – Hillsong United
Written by: Joel Houston / Matt Crocker / Benjamin Hastings

I’ve been strong
And I’ve been broken within a moment
I’ve been faithful
And I’ve been reckless at every bend
I’ve held everything together
And watched it shatter
I’ve stood tall and I have crumbled
In the same breath

I have wrestled
And I have trembled toward surrender
Chased my heart adrift
And drifted home again
Plundered blessing
Till I’ve been desperate to find redemption
And every time I turn around
Lord You’re still there

I was found
Before I was lost
I was Yours
Before I was not
Grace to spare
For all my mistakes
And that part just wrecks me

And I know I don’t deserve this kind of love
Somehow this kind of love is who You are
It’s a grace I could never add up
To be somebody You still want
But somehow
You love me as You find me

Who am I
To think Your glory needs my praises
But if this borrowed breath is Yours Lord
Take it all
You are faithful and You are gracious
And I’m just grateful
To think You don’t need a single thing
And still You want my heart

If You want my heart
I won’t second guess
‘Cause I need Your love
More than anything
I’m in
I’m Yours
Your love’s too good to leave me here
Your love’s too good to leave me

Joel Houston / Matt Crocker / Benjamin Hastings

Like the rest of the Netflix world, I watched Marie Kondo’s series titled “Tidying Up” and caught the organizational craze that is bound to flicker out by the end of the month of January. Things like organization truly sparks joy for me (that’s for you, Marie). But in the last six months as my apartment has miraculously shrunken in square footage and the baby gear has taken over, I’ve come to realize I can only organize so much of my own clutter.

Samantha Ponder is one of my favorite women in the sports industry, not only for her talent, but for the authentic way she takes on life. Listen to any podcast she’s on, watch her on Sunday NFL countdown, or follow her on Instagram–she gets humble and real in a contagious way. When I heard her tell a podcast host last summer that she had gotten rid of 70% of her stuff, I was all ears. I had this lingering feeling that I was living the Costco lifestyle of buying in bulk and ultimately watching things collect dust in my crowded cabinets.

Even now, as I scroll through Instagram and follow accounts like @lifeinjeneral (who does incredible work, by the way), I cannot get over that yes, it’s great to be organized. But for me, if I needed that many organizational bins for my makeup, guess what? I think I have too much makeup. As Sam Ponder said, she got tired of trying to reorganize all of the stuff she had in organizational bins. There was only so much she could truly rearrange before realizing her issue was beyond tidying up.

And I guess that’s what I’m getting at. No, of course there’s nothing wrong with owning things and there’s actually nothing bad about owning things even if they don’t spark joy. But for me I realized I’ve been dealing with a contentment issue. And that contentment or lack thereof has actually hindered me from opening up my heart to God’s best for me and so I’ve been on a quest of less, for more.

I’ve listened to countless podcasts, YouTube videos, and books on living with less or minimalism, if you will. While I enjoy the entertainment they’ve provided, the conclusion I’ve arrived to has been that no one can tell me what to get rid of, what to keep, how much is too much, how little is too little to live with. All of the content I’ve consumed on the subject doesn’t necessarily lead to a changed life, but I’ve humbly tried to present these thoughts to Jesus because I think they matter to Him even if they sound silly to me.

When I was a kid, my Dad would read stories about Adam Raccoon to me and my brothers. Adam Raccoon, in one of the tales gets his paw stuck inside of a jar because he’s closed his fist around an olive (if my memory serves me correctly). Adam is in danger and needs to make a run for it, but he refuses to let go of his grasp inside of the jar that is holding him hostage. It isn’t until he lets go that his paw is freed and he can make his way to safety. This may be an extreme, but I want to live a life like Adam Raccoon after he realizes the “stuff” is not ultimately what matters.

I have a tendency to spend an embarrassing amount of time on any app that makes it easy for me to scroll: Amazon, Instagram, Pinterest, Target, Hobby Lobby, and lately even my grocery apps have me thinking of “more“. So often I find myself having to work my way out of the mindset that there is something missing.

That sweater that blogger said was a must? Is it really? I don’t look good in mustard, but maybe since this blogger is telling me to swipe up, mustard will look different on me this time.
30% off? Gotta have it. Nope. No I don’t. Because every time that thing is 30% off, I buy it and have yet to use it.
IKEA IS HAVING A DRESSER SALE. I’ll need a dresser next year, so let me buy it now!

Real thoughts I’ve had this week. The hilarious thing is I unfollowed a handful of fashion bloggers that Hunter laughs at. The concept of someone going into Target, trying on clothes and posting videos of themselves talking about each item on their insta-stories is something he’s still not over. But I’m just giving you my honest struggle. I wrestle with comparison with these kinds of girls, unfollow them…but still find myself on their pages. No one to blame but myself.

So what does this practically look like for me since I’m so great at failing at it? I’m simply asking God to help me live with less, so that I can be ready for more of Jesus. More of Jesus’s character. I want to emulate more of his gratitude. His steadfastness. When I picture Jesus in need in the Bible, I don’t ever read him rushing to action. The first thing Jesus does is acknowledge his Father. Amazing. I have never truly known or experienced being in dire need, I’ve never not known where my next meal would come from and I’ve always had security in terms of basic needs.

So if even Jesus, who had everything and nothing during his 33 years of life on earth, can ask God to provide him with direction and provision, I think that’s something I can challenge myself to do, too. Sam Ponder said the reason she doesn’t regret simplifying her life so significantly is because she is now freed up to make decisions on what she will wear so much faster, she is happier with the things she truly enjoys and doesn’t have to step over the things she does not, and she’s able to press into the person God made her to be that much more readily.

I love that. Godliness with contentment is great gain. So I am choosing less–for more! Take care and take heart,

Natalie

exulansis
n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

Copyright John Koenig; The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/96261999250/exulansis

My mind has a tendency to feel a lot like the Atlanta airport. You might laugh at my specificity with the Hartsfield-Jackson airport, but to say I picture St. Louis’s Lambert or Chicago’s Midway just wouldn’t be true. The Atlanta airport feels peaceful and yet chaotic all in the same breath for me, like there are so many emotions to feel and not enough time to press into each one as it is rightfully owed. There are what seems to be a miles worth of moving walkways on either side of their massive hallways that should be classified as tunnels instead that will get you from one end a terminal to the next in a matter of minutes.

Even now, I can hear the sound of luggage wheels skidding onto the carpet before rolling back onto the metal ramp and its conveyor in the space between each walkway. There’s a certain rhythmic feeling, a specific pace that needs to be kept to stay in the flow of busy travelers. Each concourse has their own decorative vibe, my favorite being the dimly-lit stretch where you have to be careful not to miss a step from staring straight up at the lights. I get so mesmerized by the textured ceiling of color and the ambience that feels subdued and aquamarine.

While there is exhaustive noise from the shuffling of feet and a buzzing spirit of hurriedness, all I hear is silence while I’m lost in my own line of thoughts.

Life to me feels like everyone is hustling onto the moving walkways and I’m wandering my way in the in-between. On my own time, I’m carefully choosing to take the stairs. Not so much to avoid the congested elevators, but because I’ve never carried the sense that there is room for me on them. I don’t assume that people would think to make room for me if I were to ask.

And so I take the stairs. I stick to the far right of the hallway and allow others to pass. Sometimes I hold onto the hope that if I spend enough time sifting through the complexity of my feelings and ideas, I’ll be able to articulate them authentically if I’m ever asked. Offering them freely rarely feels rewarding. Instead, sharing my thoughts tends to feel like an inconvenience. Wrong timing. Things happening in the background. Minds failing to focus.

What I find to be important or eccentric to contemplate scarcely has the same effect on others. So I find my thoughts drifting through the Atlanta airport. I excuse the people I want to share my reflections with most of all with the idea that doing so would make them miss their next flight. Sure, I could give them the 5 minute version, but to simplify from the 30 minutes it may take to express the small stirrings inside of me would seem disingenuous.

Timing really is everything. I have a tendency to have the layover time while everyone else needs to get to Gate C.