The Devil's Groundwork

Last week, I found myself in need of a new journal. All my empty ones are still packed in boxes from moving, but I lucked out when I opened one of the book boxes. At the top of the stack was a journal I’d started when I began my journey to Europe, some five years ago. As I read, I found a brief entry of the pains of the itinerate lifestyle, but mostly I’d converted the journal into a quote diary, focusing on finds from a Flannery O’Connor biography I’d read. They were all great, of course, but the last one one slapped me in the face. You know that sudden moment when life makes sense, and it’s like you’re able to see your experiences and history more clearly? That’s what this did for me.

“The devil accomplishes a good deal of groundwork that seems to be necessary before grace is effective.” —Flannery O’Connor

She was speaking of how she frames her writing, but the life-truth in that statement brought the past four years flashing across my brain. Was it just in writing that this happens? Or could it also be reflective of life in general?

Grace Outlined Pain

I had lunch with a dear friend of mine from Greece, a Texan traveling through Tennessee with wisdom for the ages. She told me something new: that the moment she met me, she could see the devil coming at me in all my areas of my life. Her reminder brought back the warnings I’d ignored when I was on the way to Greece: that when you’re working in ministry in another country, all your hidden sins come to the surface. Not to mention all the resistance to what you’re doing. You’re literally a living, breathing, walking spiritual target in a way you’ve never been.

Whatever you believe about spirituality, I think we can all agree there’s evil and injustice in the world. The horrors in Ukraine and war in Ethiopia immediately come to mind—not to mention the greed, corruption, and power grabbing happening all around us. This friend’s perspective shed light and reminded me of the quote, causing me to reflect on what I’d faced and affirmed my experiences when I had been gaslit too often there.

Though the two-year fundraising journey was incredibly difficult, the actual living in Greece (at least with the last 10 months there), was among the hardest of my life. Coming back to America so suddenly also added to the pain. The experiences in my first year being back weren’t exactly easy, either. It took fleeing to the community of L’Abri to find some semblance of healing and perspective. And, it took me doing something I swore I’d never do—stay in Tennessee and move back to my hometown of Franklin—to find what I really needed.

No Quick Fix

I won’t lie, I’m still recovering from those years and I know healing will continue for years. Yet, reading Flannery shocked me into seeing the grace outlines of the experiences. I would never, ever want to go through what I did again, but distance and perspective begins to show me grace framed those hard times. The difficult lessons were hammered home in a way I actually learned from.

Do I have holes where the tragedy and trauma pierced me? Yes. I was essentially Swiss cheese. But is grace filling those holes? I’m beginning to think so. And as my anger at the pain subsides, I’m seeing these lessons as a bigger work at hand. Does that excuse the pain? Absolutely not. I don’t know why I went through the hell I have. But I’m accepting it did happen and that I can either live in resentment and bitterness, or accept the experiences for what they were, grow from them, and know how to face challenges better when problems lie ahead.

Lessons Learned

What have I learned from the pain? Here are a few thoughts:

• Community and friendships are absolutely critical.

• Friends can come into your life for a short period of time and move on—that’s ok. Treasure the fun and wise moments as you can.

• Sometimes staying still and in the same place is better than moving on to something that appears better. The grass isn’t always greener.

• Saying “yes” to certain opportunities means saying “no” to others. You can’t have it all.

• Prioritizing career, adventures, and proving yourself can mean sacrificing your personal life.

• Having a high power you trust is essential for mental, spiritual, and emotional health.

• Self-care must be done, not just talked about.

• Meditation to calm the nervous system, reading to feed the intellectual life, and journaling are pivotal.

• It’s ok to be a verbal processor—just make sure people you process with are trustworthy.

But, probably the biggest thing I’ve learned in my journey is that my priorities needed to change. And they have. A happy life, full of ups and downs, lived in anonymity with the people I love, growing into a more whole person, and pouring into others. That now what I strive for, and is what I want. I’ll leave fame and notoriety to everyone else.

What Really Matters Now

At the end of my life, I’ve realized this: does it really matter if I became CEO of a major company, topped the best-seller list, traveled the world, made millions of dollars or went to space? I’m thinking not so much. I want to be surrounded by those I love, not reflecting back on my accomplishments (that others will have already surpassed) on my death bed. I know we’re all built differently, and boy am I a driven and ambitious person! I want to make the world a better place and succed. But I don’t think checking off things for notoriety is actually going to be fulfilling if I’m doing it and life alone.

Relationships, community, and people matter to me more than ever. Creating a legacy so that people remember my name? Not so much.

The pain has been horrific, but the perspective I’ve grown into is so freeing. And I’d definitely call that grace. Wouldn’t you?

I'm Coming Back to Writing for the First Time in Two Years

I sat in a boutique in downtown Franklin, holding a latte made at a coffee pop up stand my friend had invited me to. This stand, which is pretty remarkable, had conversation cards to spark meaningful chats between friends and strangers. One of the questions was, “Who do you want to be?”

In my idealist youth, a slew of people would have come to mind: Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Winston Churchill, Theodore Roosevelt, John Buchan, Dan Allender, Curt Thompson, Tim Keller, N.T. Wright, Paul Johnson, Francis Schaeffer. Basically, authors, psychologists, theologians, and world shapers that have made their mark on mankind, history, or simply my life and community.

The surprising thing, though, was that none of these defaults set well. And all I could think in that moment was, “I just want to be the best version of myself and who I’m meant to be.”

I mark that moment as one of the greatest realizations of growth in my life. Meaning, I’m no longer trying to be someone I’m not. I simply want to be me. And, as someone who has always pushed myself to make my mark on the world for the better, I’ve always had totally unrealistic expectations of myself thinking it would bring me happiness. I’ve since learned, none of that does. And, I want more out of the short life we have on earth.

The Past Few Years

Chances are we probably connected when I was moving to Greece to work with refugees. I had thousands of people on a monthly newsletter where I shared my journey, struggles, and observations of the cross-cultural serving life in addition to the social media I ran to keep in touch with everyone. That may be where you became familiar with my writing, my hopes, my dreams, and my aspirations.. They were all good goals of making a difference in hurting peoples’ lives. However, as the journey continued, tragedy ensued and my world turned upside, both in Greece and back in America.

Walking through grief and loss has been the hardest time of my life. It also did something to me that I never expected—I suddenly couldn’t write. I lost my voice, lost the desire to write, lost my joy in it. I would stare at cursor for an hour with a blank mind. Grief took me away from myself. But, as time, space, and healing have come, I find myself tentatively treading the waters back into writing. Wandering this desert has lasted longer than I anticipated, but I’m finally feeling like I’m coming back to my own. And that I finally have something to give. Writing once more calls to me.

Wholeness as the Goal

Writing has always been part of my identity, so going for multiple years without the ability to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) led my to re-evaluate that standing in my life. Peeling back layers, I saw how unhealthy that was. Writing is a gift—I see that now. A gift for myself to understand the world, to elevate the voices of others, and to give focus on injustice in a distracted world. Going without it these past few years, as I’ve focused on other areas of my being, has led me to realize I’m ok with not making my mark on history through journalism or writing the best book known to man. I’m ok with small steps, lived in faithfulness, in love, in empathy within the community I’ve been placed. It’s not about what I’ve accomplished, it’s about who I am as a person that matters. Bragging rights only satisfy for so long.

When I answered the conversation card’s question this group, saying I just want to be me, I confessed I was thinking about writing again. My friend challenged me to publicly blog what’s coming up for me, the internal wisdom I’m realizing that’s inside me, and the experiences I’ve had because I’ll never know who it’ll encourage.

Her challenge, in addition to encouragement from another important person in my life, set me to take the plunge. But, this time, I’m not writing to convince an audience of anything, to call you to action, to educate you, to become known as a subject matter expert, etc. This time, my writing goal is simply to observe the world through the eyes of a person healing and searching for wholeness.

My goal is wholeness, as much as I can get in this life. And, if my experiences and observations spark something in another person’s life in that journey, I’ll be happy. And, if this blog goes unread, that’s ok, too. Crafting the written word simply brings me joy.

So, my next step in wholeness is stopping to reflect how to become the best version of myself, the person I was meant to be. Writing helps me with that. What helps you on that journey?