Strength comes from quietness and dependence?

We have no more official speaking engagements now until February. That feels weird. It's six weeks since I wrote on this blog: "Last week we started to see a bit more spaciousness in our schedule" (here). We've definitely been working at a slower pace since mid October. And, though it still feels awkward at times, it's been good for us after what's been a pretty exhausting few years.

A friend and colleague wrote about this verse recently: "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it'" (Isaiah 30:15 NIV)

The Message says it this way: "God, the Master, The Holy of Israel, has this solemn counsel: “Your salvation requires you to turn back to me and stop your silly efforts to save yourselves. Your strength will come from settling down in complete dependence on me—The very thing you’ve been unwilling to do. You’ve said, 'No way!'"

My friend wrote: "We need to stop in order to repent. Rest involves the surrender of fighting for ourselves and letting the Holy Spirit work in our lives. It is a reliance on God's promises and an utter dependence on Him. It is a recognition that we can't satisfy our own needs. . . This verse also reminds us that our strength comes from quietness and trust. When we are quiet, we remove other noise and distractions. We set our hearts on hearing God's voice and God's voice alone. A quiet heart is in a state of peace that comes from trusting in God and His sovereignty alone."

This reminds me a bit of Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
  he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake (vs. 1–3 NIV).

 There are other verses similar, like Psalm 131:1–3:

My heart is not proud, Lord,
    my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
    or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
    I am like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child I am content.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord
    both now and forevermore (NIV).

Another a metaphor describing God's care for us in Isaiah 40 (vs 11):

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
    He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
    he gently leads those that have young (NIV).

I don't know that I'm very good at being quiet and hearing God's voice. I'm good at filling my head with busy noise. But I hope that through this quieter period in our lives I'll get better. I have to trust that God is working in me through this time that I have many fewer responsibilities than I've had for many years.

That's not to say I've got no responsibilities. We had morning tea with three retired missionaries last week. They told many stories from their own lives, but also intentionally asked us about our sons. One of them concluded quickly that one of our main jobs this year in Australia is to help our younger two transition well to Australia. It's true and we're grateful for the time away from the busyness of our work in Japan to do that (and that we still have an income while we do this).

This week of metaphorically walking alongside our sons has included:

• sitting in on a doctor's appointment which opened the door for our son to get support from the Australian government due to his neurodiversity and mental illness,

  

  The blossoms of the Sydney red
  gum. Another thing synonymous
  with Australia.

• helping them fill out forms for the government. Australia is also kind to university students from low income families, but you pay in the time you spend applying and reporting,
• supervising them driving,
• driving one of them to an appointment with the agency helping him to find (and be ready) for work, and
• follow leads for possible future accommodation.

It's been good that we've had the time to do these things in person and are not thousands of miles away, something a missionary parent can't take for granted.

Fun

The downtime that we've had has given us plenty of time to indulge in one of our favourite pastimes, one that much easier to pursue when we're in Australia than in Japan. It's cricket!

In Japan we either have to resort to watching replays and reading match reports, or pay to watch matches. Here we can watch many matches for free.

Cricket has been part of our lives since we were kids—both our dads loved it and taught us about it. I was once jokingly accused of "taking a sickie" by guys in the pay room at a small rural hospital I worked in, after I took two consecutive sick "afternoons" on days that cricket was played (in the past many men have been a bit disbelieving that women know anything about cricket, but these guys knew I was a fan). 

Summer and Christmas in Australia is synonymous with cricket on the TV. Because it's generally a lengthy sport, it often runs in the background while you get on with other things. It's like the sound of summer here and it's weird when we watch it in mid-winter in Japan, at Christmas time!

Cricket has been part of our relationship since day two. The day after our first date there was cricket on, and we sat down together to watch some of it. Having a love of cricket wasn't on his list of things he was looking for in a girlfriend, but it's turned out to be a wonderful thing for us. Cricket is a very complex sport and many hours can be spent watching and talking about it. It's often quite relaxing, and I've done many cross-stitching hours in front of the cricket, so it's good for my mental health.

The Australian team has recently spent about six weeks competing in one of the cricket world cups in India (the men's One Day version). It was compelling watching, much like a long suspense drama. This long competition culminated in two matches that we stayed up long past our usual bed times to watch (3.30am and 2.30am). Yep, I guess that confirms us real fans!

We've also been keeping an eye on the domestic women's cricket franchise competition called WBBL (Women's Big Bash League), which is a different (shorter) format to the games the Australian men were playing in India. We went to one game in person a few weeks back and this week we've watched (on TV) our local team play their way into the final. As a woman, it's been wonderful to finally see women playing this sport I've loved all my life. It turns out women have been playing for a long time, but they've had little media coverage, so almost no one knew about it, thankfully that's changed.

Anyway, that's enough. Most of you probably aren't interested in cricket, but thanks for reading this far. For me, it's a bit like camping, if you introduce the topic, I can talk about it for some time!

A couple of admissions

I've had lots of space for thinking recently. Sometimes it feels like too much space.

We enjoyed the simple pleasure of catching
up with "old" friends on Saturday.

A shocking truth: not trusting God. Yep, that's me.

After we moved here in July, I re-joined our home church's Friday morning Ladies Bible study. They had been studying Trusting God by Jerry Bridges. Of course, coming in more than halfway through the year was a disadvantage. (For my northern hemisphere readers: Much of Australian life runs on a calendar year. Many things, including school, start in mid or late January after the long Christmas/summer holidays and finish in November or December. So arriving in July or August often means you've missed half a year of something.) 

One of the ladies gave me a copy of the book they were studying, one that I have actually owned since I was a uni student, but I think it's in storage in Japan. It's a long time since I read it, so I've gone back to read from the start of the book. 

It really is basic stuff that I know, but stuff that I keep forgetting, or maybe "forgetting" is too strong a word, possibly "lose sight of" could be better? I am still not really good at applying truths I know in my head to my emotions. Emotions grab hold of me and before I know it my body is showing signs of stress. When I take a step back and think about what’s going on, more often than not I realise it's because I've stopped trusting that "God's providence is his constant care for and his absolute rule over all his creation for his own glory and the good of his people" (Trusting God, p. 13).

So, I was encouraged to read Bridges write (about his own pilgrimage of seeking to come to a place of trusting God at all times), "I am still far from the end of the journey." It is good to remember that it is a journey, and one that won’t be finished until we’re in heaven.

Entitled thinking 

Additionally I've been thinking about how easy it is for missionaries to slip into entitled thinking. A few weeks ago a close friend caught me thinking that way—my guard was down because she is such a good friend, and I was shocked to hear what came out of my mouth. I still feel ashamed as I see how easy it is to slip into thinking that because I'm a missionary I deserve certain things and deserve better things. And then complaining when I don't get them! And then I saw this quote: 

"You cannot possibly have a sense of entitlement—thinking you deserve only good and beautiful things–when you truly realize that you don't deserve anything good if not for God's grace, extended from his throne."—Mel Caparrow, Enough is Enough

Ouch!

I think "truly realize" is one thing, but always remembering it is another. The dictionary.com definition of "realize" is to "become fully aware of (something) as a fact; understand clearly". I really do understand these truths pretty clearly, but, as I wrote about earlier, applying them to my heart is another matter.

Need to be careful where I put my focus

I need to be more thankful, and more repentant when I notice thoughts like this entering my head. I'm thankful my friend caught me in this. She didn't rebuke me directly, but what she said made me stop and think about what I'd just said.

In the end I think many of the issues that we deal with (anxiety, entitled thinking, anger, fear, discontent etc.) stem back to not trusting God. And this reminds me of a favourite book of mine (that’s also in storage in Tokyo), Awe by Paul Tripp that traces the things we struggle with back to our lack of awe of God, our forgetting how amazing and completely capable and loving he is. I wrote about another book by Jerry Bridges a few years back (here), which also traces what he calls “hidden sins” back to a lack of trust in God’s character:

“The importance of a firm belief in the sovereignty, wisdom, and goodness of God in all the circumstances of our lives. Whether those circumstances are short-term or long-term, our ability to respond to them in a God-honoring and God-pleasing manner depends on our ability and willingness to bring these truths to bear on them. And we must do this by faith; that is, we must believe that the Bible's teaching about these attributes really is true and that God has brought or allowed these difficult circumstances in our lives for his glory and our ultimate good” (Hidden Sins, Bridges, p. 76).

“When I refocus, I take my eyes off my problems, and shift them onto the Lord — and I choose to trust him. Trust him even when my situation looks black. Trust him that he is working for my good. Trust him that he knows what is best.” (From here.)

Remembering this is so important: "No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly" (Psalm 84:11). 

In the last two weeks we received disappointing news on two fronts. Not devastating news, just what felt like setbacks to our plans. But obviously our plans weren’t God’s plans and we need to continue to trust he’ll guide us as we seek to work our way through settling our younger two sons in Australia so that we can return to Japan next July. So I return to one of my favourite passages from the Bible:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart" (Heb. 12:1–3, NIV).

Ah, it is so easy to lose heart. I'm feeling flat today and I think it's partly a losing-heart symptom. Life is hard. God didn't promise us anything else. So the only option is to keep our eyes focused on him.

I've rambled on long enough, it's time to publish this now (I've been writing it for a couple of weeks as I tried to process the rollercoaster of emotions I've been riding).

Fluency and a sense of home are harder to get than you think

Whenever I'm in Australia I struggle to communicate to people that we're not completely fluent in Japanese. And the longer we're in Japan, the more people assume our fluency is a given, so it becomes a throw-away line that I struggle to ignore. It usually runs like this:

"I guess you're fluent at Japanese..."

"Ah, no, I wish I was, though."

And the awkwardness only gets worse as I seek to find a way to move on from this in a conversation.

Now that our boys are older, fluency is also assumed of them. We spoke at a church on Sunday and I've lost track of how many conversations I had explaining that our boys aren't fluent in Japanese, nor do any of them see themselves moving there as adults. The angst for me is that I wish I could say that we were all fluent in Japanese. But the truth is that it's a complex, rich language that is very difficult for most foreigners. I don't know any missionaries who didn't grow up there who would admit to being fluent.

Along with this assumption of fluency seems to come the assumption that we slide in and out of each culture with ease. The same person who says something like this will often also ask "How's it feel to be home?" I'm afraid that as our comfort in living in Japanese culture has increased, the more we feel not-so-much like either place (Japan or Australia) are actually "home". Yep, I feel like I write about this topic a lot (e.g. here in 2014), perhaps I sound terribly repetitious? But it's an ongoing battle to help people to understand us, and of course many of you—the readers of this blog—aren't the people who will be asking us questions like this.

I try to patiently explain to people who ask—I rarely bring this topic up myself!—that there's much we're comfortable with about life in Japan (including that I can get by in much of daily life with the language I have). But also point out that there's lots that we don't manage with ease, for example, dealing with the subtleties of a new medical diagnosis (and new specialist terms) and negotiating our way through complex bureaucratic procedures or websites. 

At the same time there's stuff about Australia that we really love, like the climate, how easy communication is, that we can sit through a sermon or read the fine print without straining our brains too hard. And things that we don't feel so comfortable with: like the lack of settledness that our work here involves, the assumption people can make that as educated professionals we are homeowners, and answering questions like I've mentioned above.

I feel like I'm whinging, though. Thankfulness is the antidote to that! So, here are some things I'm thankful for today:

I'm also thankful for this little plant.
Last week I went out and "splurged"
on a new pot plant, something that
helps me feel more "at home" here.

• A good nights sleep, and a bed, and house, and food, and oxygen and so many things.
• An income
• People who love me
• The ability and opportunity to write and reflect
• Good health
• A calling
• Hope and a future, and a God who loves me and has the power to secure my good.

Which of course brings me back to the right place–the Bible. And this verse:

"'For I know the plans I have for you,'” declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV).

And back to the theme of another blog post that is in draft stage: trusting God! But I'll leave that to another day.

Rowboat, sentences, and driver's licence

This has been an interesting week, and not as quiet as my written schedule might lead you to believe. I think I'd been settling just a little into a "quieter" life. Time to read, to go a bit slower than usual. But this week has been a little different. For starters, I've picked up my editing pen again. OMF Australia has given me a spot as a guest editor for one of their publications. It's been good to brush up those skills a little.

A local park, a place that's helping
us stay a bit grounded here.

I wrote our monthly prayer letter on Monday and sent it Tuesday. A pretty usual end-of-month activity, but one that always involves a little reflecting on the month gone and looking at what the month ahead holds. It definitely showed that October was considerably quieter than the several months that had gone before it, and I guess that has shown up in my musings on this blog.

Over the last few weeks, on quieter days, I've been trying to invest more in reading about writing, as well as taking up a few small opportunities to write. I've spent many Tuesdays mornings at our local library writing. I haven't had a huge output or a big project that I'm working on, but just setting aside time on a set day to write in a different environment has been helpful. 

This week I finished a book about sentences: First you write a sentence by Joe Moran. It wasn't the easiest book to read, but that kind of helped it to feel like I was doing "work" i.e. professional development, not just reading for pleasure! Here's one helpful quote:

‘It’s necessary to write as if your sentences will be orphaned, because they will be.’ (Evelyn Kinkenborg)…Once our sentences are written and sent out into the world to be read, they are on their own. Most of us cling to a residual belief that we will still be there, hovering over the reader as she reads, to explain, when she stumbles over our words, what we really meant. We won’t…Writing a sentence is …hard because you have to arrange them in such a way that they can be deciphered in your absence” (p. 24–25 First you write a sentence, Joe Moran, 2018).

Later he qualified that statement about orphans by saying that sentences really need to be read in context, that "the sentence you are reading needs the already read and still unread sentences around it" (p. 161).

Another gem from the book: "Reading a sentence should never be a grim duty. . . Most paragraphs are longer than they need to be, likewise most chapters. Most books go on for fifty pages longer than they should. We forget all this because it is less effort to speak than to listen . .  at some point, sooner than we think, we should stop. no one is ever as interested as we are in what we have to say. They need to eat, or catch a train, or go to bed because they have work in the morning. The courteous actor says his lines and leaves the stage with no encore." (p.199)

Unfortunately the author didn't really take his own advice. This book could have been considerably shorter! What kept me reading, though, was the gems like I've quoted. One of the reviewers on Goodreads said "About 96% twaddle. Which is annoying because the 4% has some really good ideas and observations." Ironically, a good developmental editor would have been a big help!

Aside from reading interesting books, and writing and editing, we've been walking alongside our sons as they continue to settle into life in Australia. This week that's meant:

• helping our middle son finally get his learners licence again (he had a Japanese learners, but that journey was interrupted by a seizure nearly two years ago)
• helping facilitate communication to allow our sons and one other missionary kid to apply to take over a lease from four other young men (two of whom at least are missionary kids themselves) 

Both the above are part of long complex journeys, and it was satisfying to complete a clear step in each one this week. Two more tangible steps towards our twin goals of them living independently as adults and us returning on our own to Japan to continue work there.

A strange thing, but I also did two things that I've been postponing. I bought three new t-shirts (as we approached downsizing and moving to Australia, I pretty much stopped buying anything that wasn't consumable or an immediate desperate need, so it's been a long time since I bought a t-shirt). I also made an appointment with a physio for a problem that's been bothering me for many months (years?). These seem like small things, but they felt big, like I was settled enough to do them?

We've also had car trouble, which has meant the first driving lesson got cut short yesterday. And more money will be paid than we want to. The car is at the mechanic and we've had to borrow a car this weekend to fulfil our ministry commitments.

This week we also started talking to our families about Christmas plans . . . this is something we only do a couple of times a decade! And noted that it's getting gradually more complex as our kids get older. Our families live a whole day's drive apart, so it is always a bit complicated to factor in everyone's needs, desires, plus the sheer practicalities of travel. On top of that we have other people (long-term friends and supporters) wondering if they can catch up with us during the Christmas holidays (roughly Dec–Jan), but we can't set dates until we've settled on dates with our families. 

Yesterday evening I felt like I was a little row boat that had had a number of ripples pass underneath me: unsettled and rocked, not by any one thing, but by the various life things going on, some of which I've mentioned above. When this happens I can be quite harsh on myself, wondering where my faith in God my rock is. After all this is what King David wrote:

Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
    my hope comes from him.
6 Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
    he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
7 My salvation and my honour depend on God;
    he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
8 Trust in him at all times, you people;
    pour out your hearts to him,
    for God is our refuge. (Ps. 62:5–8)

I will not be shaken? I'm not sure exactly of the meaning here. I know that houses in Japan are built so that they can be shaken by an earthquake, but still remain standing and undamaged. Perhaps that's it?

So, a rowboat, sentences, and a driver's licence, and a myriad of other things that have made up this week, including a really hot, but dry day of around 37C, and a much cooler, yet more humid day today (around 26C). Tomorrow we put on our "missionary" hats again and, all things going well, we will present at an OMF meeting and then have lunch with friends from uni days.

An emotional speaker

I spent last weekend at a non-denominational Christian women's conference (retreat or convention or even “camp”...depending on your background). In many ways it was very similar to the annual retreats I go to in Japan, except more than three times the size and much less international. Also, the average age was probably a fair bit higher. The one in Japan is mostly made up of expats who are in ministry, which generally means under 70 years of age. This event I went to had a significant number of women over 70.

The convention was held at a place 
that I’ve been to many times since
I left school: Mt Tamborine Convention
Centre. A place where many Christian
gatherings happen every year. The
very place where we began seriously
applying to serve with OMF overseas.

Another difference was that they had a focus on missionaries. They’ve traditionally invited missionaries to come and give short presentations. I was one of four invited to speak for six minutes this year. 

I thought that I’d gotten past the “very nervous” stage of speaking this year. August and September were full of speaking opportunities and I’d been relaxing quite a bit. But apparently not so much as I thought. I was struck with considerable nervousness about standing up in front of this large group (over 200 people). This would have been okay, except that the main story I’d planned to share was my most emotional one, the one I was most likely to cry during. Nerves + emotional story made for a very challenging period as I started telling this story.

A few weeks earlier I’d had to choose what I would say so that I could give the organisers my PowerPoint slides. I was feeling pretty cynical about the value of a one-off appearance at an event where I would probably not be able to form many longer lasting partnerships. When I voiced this to two close friends (who’ve both been to this event before and one helped organise it this year) and they encouraged me to use my “is it worth it all” story, so I did. I blamed my friends for egging my on, but really it was me who chose to do it, I wanted to tell the audience something honest that they probably didn’t know about missionaries. Missionaries tend to tell “success” or “good” stories, they often don’t talk about hard personal things in public. As someone who strongly values honesty and authenticity, and telling things how they are, this was definitely in line with my values, even if I hadn’t intended to get so emotional in the delivery of it!

Emotion is a strong way to connect with audiences, but breaking down on stage with a microphone in your hand isn’t a comfortable experience. However, I ended up with many conversations (and hugs) afterwards—many ladies told me they had been touched by my tears and pain. Some even found they could identify in a small way with the pain I’d admitted, which is a definite “win”. There were plenty others who didn’t have anything to say to me, but for the rest of the weekend I saw plenty of ladies walk past who I could tell recognized me as the one who’d lost it on the stage! 

It’s a lot easier to write these things at home on my computer, than say them out-loud to a group of strangers. If you’d like a glimpse of the sort of thing I was talking about, you can see something else I’ve written about grief and goodbyes here. Ultimately, I don’t feel called to be a speaker! Working behind the scenes with the written word is much more my gifting.

It was good to sit at the “feet” of two gifted speakers who preached though the book of Colossians. We were reminded that we are complete in Christ. That nothing we do can either make God love us less or more. God made me, he knows my weaknesses and my strengths, and he loves me anyway. My personal encouragement was that I don’t need to strive to be busy right through this home assignment time, that taking time to rest is okay too.

Overall it was a great weekend. Tiring but wonderful. Another taste of heaven, really. We had great Bible teaching and rich times of singing. Also lots of fun. It was wonderful to share the weekend with two close friends and get to know a few more people that they know.

An unsettled life

I write on this blog about my fairly ordinary life doing a not-so-ordinary job. It’s good to remind myself about that goal every now and then. Right now I’m feeling rather unfocused, partly because, as opposed to most of my adult life, overall I’ve actually got more time than responsibilities. I’m really struggling with what to do with that and finding it odd. After all, isn’t this what one longs for amidst a too busy life? Not being so busy is harder than I imagined.

It’s also hard to think about making commitments to longer term things because we need to keep our schedule flexible to visit with people and groups. That means committing to something regular isn’t wise, and committing to something that requires a lot of time is also not a great idea.

So, what to do? We’ve got some ideas, but we’re also aware that we’re tireder than we realise. The clue to that is how much recovery time has been needed after events and interacting intensely with people.

I’m also aware of still feeling so unsettled. Knowing that we’re probably not going to be here for long is unsettling and doesn’t encourage commitment (even to pot plants). I still feel like a bit of an alien in Australia. Not so much in one-on-one conversations, but just in general, when I’m out and about in public. I suspect that that might take longer than 12 months to settle down.

Layered on top of the temporary nature of this assignment is the transitory nature of this stage of life: we’re actively working on helping our two youngest sons to find somewhere to move out to (a complicated process that we are making progress on, pray for favour from a certain landlord, and one more housemate). Them moving out is a big life change for us all. One that’s been looming for a while, so it’s no surprise. It’s the right time for them to be moving on, but still has an emotional impact when lots of other things in our lives are also very unsettled.

Getting any traction in the midst of all this is difficult. It’s even been hard to stay on top of the many plates we still have twirling, because we’re less focused. For example, I’m usually great at promptly answering email, because I’ve usually been on my computer most days in recently years, but my email volume has dwindled down to a trickle, so I’m not on my computer every (work) day now and I fear that some things might be falling through the cracks.

What have I been doing with my time? On days that we’ve not been speaking, travelling, or preparing for either of these, I’ve had a lot more spare time. I’ve been reading more and continuing with my Japanese language review. We’ve been getting more sleep. I’ve pulled out my cross-stitch, something that I’ve not done for years outside of holiday times. We’re watching cricket, playing more Scrabble (and other games), and spending time with people we love. It’s a completely different pace to what we’ve lived at for years, and probably good, even if it feels like an ill-fitting coat.

After several quieter days (we even had a weekend at home last week), tomorrow we’re travelling again. David and our youngest son are driving eight hours north to see David’s mum. I’m travelling an hour away with a friend to a women’s convention for the weekend (and doing a little bit of up-front speaking). Much like I wrote about last week: the pace here keeps changing, and somehow we need to keep adjusting to it. I guess that’s making us more flexible?

Wisdom and peace about what I do

Last week we started to see a bit more spaciousness in our schedule. Finally! This year has been a fairly continuous hard slog. By God's grace we've made it through thus far, but without a clear holiday yet in view, it's really good to find that we can slow down in the midst of it all. But as usual, I find it's a mental and emotional challenge to change pace.

Somewhat random photo that I took
in WA when we were on Rottnest Is.

Last week we had three quieter days and then headed up to the town where I was born and raised. During the four days we spent there we had two formal speaking opportunities as well as time to catch up with family and friends (including a short and furious op-shop crawl). We stayed with my parents and had lots of time to touch base with them. That was all very good, but also tiring! We drove back late Sunday afternoon and I backed up on Monday with an all-day Zoom meeting with most of our magazine team. That was also very good, but also tiring. 

I slept 11 hours Monday night and spent a lot of Tuesday just sitting around (I did finish a book). On Wednesday I had more energy, enough to do some weekly household chores and more elaborate baking than I've done for months. That night I slept badly (again), but was able to sleep in on Thursday morning. Lacking much routine has good and bad points. Being able to sleep in as much as I need some mornings is one of the good points!

The mental battle for me with such a varied schedule basically runs along the lines of internal dialogue that says:You're being lazy . . . that's okay, I'm being kind to myself . . . but couldn't you be using this time better . . . oh look, there's a cool thing to read or play or watch . . . a whole day has gone by and what do you have to show for it? . . . it's been hard few years, the psychologist said to aim for boredom . . . you haven't had it as hard as others . . . etc. 

Yes, I need to remind myself of this blogpost from August: An aha moment

I also need to remind myself that I'm not defined by my schedule, I'm not defined by what I do, or how much I do, or how well I do it. That's a really hard thing to embrace. David and I are somewhat defined by the label we wear, by the calling we have: missionaries or cross-cultural workers. It's hard to combat that. What we do shapes how we live far more than if we had jobs in Australia, much like how being in the military shapes and defines people far more than civilian life. I think it's also a facet of jobs that fall more into the "calling" category.

At this point I need to stop and remember what God says about my identity. It turns out he says a lot. Here's one portion from Ephesians 2:

Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing. (vv. 7–10, The Message).

Yes, it's a different version to what many of us are used to reading, but sometimes that is helpful. In this case it reminds me that I'm not indispensable, that what I do is something God's prepared for me to do. And to balance it out, what I do is not to earn the reward of God's love. As Philip Yancey wrote, "There is nothing we can do to make God love us more and there is nothing we can do to make God love us less."

So I needn't be afraid that I'm being lazy, but should trust that this quieter time is God's gift to us. We're in this for the long-term, so taking care of ourselves is an important part of staying the course. I know that in my head, but I still have those internal dialogue battles!

I read an article recently on Forbes.com that talked about how we often define ourselves by our jobs, and how that can be negative, especially if we're between jobs, or if our job title doesn't interest others. The author suggested: 

The next time someone asks you the question, “What do you do?” share something else about who you are and what you care about that goes beyond your job title alone. Doing this reinforce more dimensions of your work and identity so others can have a more complete picture of who you are and what you stand for.

That bears some thinking upon...

At the moment our job is to talk to people about what we do and where we do it. It's actually a battle to help people understand because they feel like our lives are so different to theirs and they come to us with a lot of preconceptions about who we are and what we do. On Sunday I had someone come up to me at the church where we'd spoken who made a confession: that day, for the first time, she'd understood what I do. She'd heard us speak several times in the past couple of decades, but hadn't understood. I don't know why—she wasn't keen for a long conversation and took off as soon as she's said that. I'd love to have talked longer to discover what it was that we said on Sunday that helped.

Writing like this makes me feel nervous. I'm nervous that someone is going to point out that I'm not doing enough, that I am not enough.

Someone suggested to me recently that those negative thoughts are from the enemy, but I'm not so sure that they all are. I've been conscientious all my life, it helps me get my job done when I have little supervision or accountability. And I've also been present at plenty of Christian events where I've been told (overtly or otherwise) I need to do more—more evangelism, more discipleship, more theological study, more prayer, more family-based devotions, more and more... 

I'm just not sure I'm wise enough to discern which of these thoughts in my head are right and worth listening to, and which aren't. 

What comes with the territory as a missionary is frequently being asked "What can we pray for?" (Seriously, as well as writing a monthly prayer letter, I answer at least two or three emails a month with this specific request from our organisation.) One of my most common requests is for wisdom. A thoroughly biblical prayer:

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you (James 1:5 NIV).

And here I will end this meandering collection of thoughts and head into what's looking like a potentially quiet weekend!