Rest and Recover At the Level You Serve {...a faith that dominates the details of everyday life...}
I literally labor to enter into rest. I have learned that if you serve at high levels, you should also Sabbath at high levels. And not long ago, another pastor’s wife messaged me privately, asking me to elaborate.
I don’t know whether to say “I’m sorry” or “you’re welcome”. Because now that I’m getting my thoughts out on the subject, well…
…they just keep coming.
As you’ll soon see.
::cough::
Rest is the cornerstone of Christian theology, because Jesus is the cornerstone of our faith. Rest is to be our permanent perspective. It is to be our posture in life. We are also called to rest as practical lifestyle. As a daughter of God, I am meant to fully and firmly believe in a finished work so redemptive and potent that it requires nothing from me but believing.
That’s grace! Having a gift of life that complete, I find myself able to shift from scarcity to abundance - in both my labor and my rest. With a faith that robust, active and happy, there also comes a willingness to put my hand to the plow, sunrise to sunset, six days a week, in joyful response.
Everything I do, I do heartily, as unto the Lord.
It’s sweet sweat, honestly. It’s also rewarding rest.
“Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God, on which you must not do any work”
Spiritual rest is the foundation of my faith. But I actually don’t want to talk about spiritual rest in this post (!!) I want to talk about rest-rest. I want to talk about physical rest, emotional replenishment, as lifestyle. I want to tell you all about how The Preacher and I have set the goal of having the kind of life and home that we don’t need to leave or escape to be able to rest.
Guys! I even have a name for it.
(…but of course I have a name for it. #enneagram5probs)
It’s extremely gratifying to put a name to a process I’ve engaged since I began creating “home” for my own family.
BACK STORY:
In April of 2017, God took me to Paris for free. (Well, for the cost of a round trip ticket, in full disclosure.) Walking Monet’s gardens, floating for 6 days down the Seine river, praying in a tiny Notre Dame near Normandy, and simply watching how Parisians dress, lunch, brunch, and do home ruined me for the life I had previously lived.
Mise en scene is French for “setting the scene”.
I came home from France with a burning desire to “mise en scene” - to intentionally live beautifully and design a lifestyle of rest like a daughter of a King.
Given, I had always had a strong desire to live beautifully, but honestly? Limitation had me in its stranglehold. For decades, my own theology held me back.
TODAY:
Now, I know that if I serve at a high level, I must rest at an even higher level. The mental and emotional battles I fight, just to make art and minister to women, are very intense. The spiritual attacks I come under because of my love for the New Covenant gospel and the local church would be terrifying, if I did not understand my right to live in “the unforced rhythms of grace”. (…you haven’t lived until Jezebel comes after you…just sayin.)
Sigh. This post is already too long. Because it could be a book. #notjoking I wish I had a whole chapter to “mise en scene” the stage for you, so that you could know how deeply, and why, a spirit of limitation owned my perspective for so long. For many years, I worked to create beauty in my home, with almost no resources. The Lord still met me, and met many of the desires of my heart, but friends…
…He longed to lavish my life!
At the same time, I don’t want you to think that “mise en scene” involves all the bougie things that money can buy. Money can’t buy good taste, style, or the presence of God in your home.
But it could buy a velvet couch in the perfect shade of blue.
Yes, it could buy me that. Remember me, when you win the lotto. I’m not allowed to play it.
Anyhoo. I have to go ham on everyone here, and cut straight to the chase.
When you serve at a high level, do not apologize for making your home a high level refueling station. Set the scene for your one wild and precious life! Again, this does not have to involve major renovations (though it could), nor does it involve having to win a lawsuit or the lotto to pay for it.
It involves your permission.
It involves your passion.
It involves knowing what you love, what inspires you, and what you find to be beautiful.
It involves your season of life.
It involves a finely honed practice of the presence of God.
It involves loving what is yours. If you are married, it involves nourishing the marriage so that the passion between you two is what brings you satisfaction, rest and laughter.
It involves a lot.
Mostly, it involves your five senses, your best dreams, and a willingness to labor to enter into rest - work to make your real home be a place of real rest for the real you.
We live in a cul-de-sac in a semi-sketchy urban neighborhood. We have yet to hit a six-figure income mark. But people come from all over the world (literally) to break bread at our table, and to be loved on by our family.
I’ll boil it down to 5 things that mean the most to me, in practical terms:
Organization, minimalism, no clutter. You wouldn’t know it to look at my desk right now, but I’m a work in progress. I can tell you that I have pared my closet down to less than 40 pieces of clothing, that I have only a few (amazing) recipes on rotation that I cook regularly, to keep from having a bunch of gadgets, exploding pantries, freezer, or fridge. I do all my own cooking and cleaning and I like it that way, and I get rid of “stuff” religiously.
Beauty, beauty, beauty. If it isn’t beautiful, I don’t want it. When in doubt (as to the beauty of a “thing”) throw it out.
I own it. I’m a beauty snob. (And yes, beauty is totally subjective. I don’t judge what you believe to be beautiful, if your taste is different than mine, I promise.)
Music. It is always softly playing. It streams through four speakers located in various spots, inside and outside my home. When you come onto my porch, you will probably hear Spencer Lewis’ The Silence Between the Words. If you circle around to the back yard fire pit, you’ll hear the same music.
I always turn the music ON when I leave. Because it means a whole, whole (whole) lot to come home to “mise en scene” - to a home that welcomes us.
No telling what kind of sad, hard thing we had to tend to while we were away. It is untelling the hours of work that were engaged, or the people served. It needs to feel good to come home.
Home should feel like an exhale, not a project.
(Granted, it’s a project before it’s an exhale. I know…I know.)
Outdoor “rooms”. I don’t have a view. Well, unless you count 3 adorable grandwildlings as the very best view (which I do). But I do have outdoor rooms. I have seating areas, a pond with a waterfall in the front, a tiered fountain in the back, an outdoor fireplace (very basic, and hand made from reclaimed brick), and a long (l o n g) table that can comfortably sit 15 people. And I will trick that table out, just for my family. I’m talking table linens, fresh flowers, beautiful Italian made green glass bottles for filtered water, set all up and down the table, mismatched silver, my best plates….all for hot dogs off the grill.
Oh, in a heart beat. We do it all the time.
Scent. I’m always diffusing oils. I only use two brands, and neither one is bougie: Eden’s Garden, and the oils that my friend Terrica Joy Smith carries in her Apothecary.
(not an ad…I don’t make a dime for sharing my best sources…)
In the summer, I bring in bouquets of fresh rosemary, mint, and cilantro. (Yes, cilantro - the plant - smells like heaven to me!). In the winter, I light a fire in our Preway, because I must have fire and the smell of burning wood makes me deliriously happy, allergies be damned.
I said I would narrow it down to 5 things. In closing, consider this “5A, 5B, 5C”, and so on:
Original art, beeswax candles, fresh flowers always, a garden, chickens (not my own - they belong to my daughters who both live in the two houses next door), a cage full of tiny, happy finches (those are mine), a curated supply of toys for the grandkids. These are beautiful toys that always sit out and about - things like a magnifying glass, a crystal ball (not the fortune telling kind, the “looking at the world through it” kind), a kaleidoscope, this deck of amazing playing cards, a sketch book and Palomino pencils, and wooden puzzles.
A hot drink station with espresso machine, 3 kinds of tea (no exploding pantries or messy drawers if I can help it), raw sugar, honey, straws, fun bottled drinks, and maybe the occasional Bailey’s Irish Cream.
Friends. The best most beautiful accessory.
A vibrant married love - no amount of good design or pretty things can overcome a tense atmosphere.
A sweet, sweet presence of God - always available, always a beautifying force, always a peace to be reckoned with.
This Is My True-Truth {...my testimony...}
(Maybe tuck in with a tall glass of iced tea? This one’s a little bit conversational…)
I once heard it said that what most people call “their testimony” is actually their history. And their history is fine, but it is who God is for you right now today that is your testimony.
I don’t want to split hairs, it’s okay by me if you go back many years to tell a story, and you call that your “testimony”. But something in what I heard rang so true for me. I’m happy to tell you my story - but that is what I call it. If I am looking backwards, I am sharing my “story”.
My testimony is very much a “right-this-minute” reality.
Here is my testimony, in this middle-place of my life. These words are, as it were, hot off the presses.
(Out of compassion, I will also say this: if you are in the kind of hard season where good things in someone else’s life feels like a sting, if it makes you feel left out of God’s goodness - I understand. Please stop reading now, and come back when you’ve healed up. I’ve been there. Close down this blog, and put your face in Scripture - not some other lady’s book. Book studies are fine, but no preacher’s wife worth her salt would point you to some book when she can point you to the Living Word. And yes, I can say this - as a writer of books.)
Let’s lead with this, because honestly? This is a big deal for women.
Without a single diet plan, with no restrictive eating other than gentle intermittent fasting, and without harsh exercise, and after menopause, my body is at a happy weight. It is natural for me to say “no” when I feel like saying no - to any kind of food. It is natural for me to say “yes” to more water, to fresh vegetables, and also to cake and ice cream. I said “yes” to a Snickers bar yesterday. I say “yes” to bread. It bloats me, sure. It makes me a little uncomfortable. So I don’t say “yes” to it all the time. But if you set it on my plate? Especially if you made it just for me? I’m all in. Pass the butter.
How am I healthy and at a weight that I’m happy with? Well, Holy Spirit is the consummate teacher.
Not many books have been read, and I absolutely didn’t surf a bunch of blogs. Listening to the Lord, and to my own body became the plan. (Obviously, there are women under very extenuating circumstances - circumstances of life and death, not gas and bloating. If that is you, please do read all the books and blogs you wish. The Lord will lead you to answers!)
It is one thing to do research that is Spirit led. It is another thing to turn to self care as a kind of new, midlife identity. God has given me the gift of health, and yet I haven’t had to pull over (figuratively speaking) every few miles and check under the hood about every little thing.
If you are getting healthy results, and you are doing things differently than I am, or if you are one who loveslovesloves to research all things health because that is part of your original design, and because you’ve heard the Lord about it , then party on, my friend, and I am not at all surprised. Because we are all, each and every one, differently…and fearfully….and wonderfully made.
That marriage, up there in that picture? We fought for it from before day one. We radically receive one another, as Christ as received us. Does this man have faults? Do I?
Nah.
Just kidding. We have glaring faults. With the exception of infidelity, we have faults that other couples would call “deal breakers”. I’ve been a secret spender. I am an INFJ (if you’re into that) which is supposedly the most difficult personality to be married to, because I have ideals, man….I have standards. I’m a deep feeler, and far too quiet sometimes. He is both a team player to a fault, and a strong leader to a fault. If that confuses you, welcome to my world. Home boy is both a pleaser and an alpha male, and I sometimes feel more “herdED” than “heard”.
What does that do to me, and inside me? Well, it makes me decide to be a grown woman who does not expect her spouse to be all things, or a mind reader. It creates inside of my spirit a fabulous opportunity.
What is the fabulous opportunity? I get to think and choose what is important. I get to actually honor my husband, just as God has made him, and just as he happens to be, flaws and strengths. I will never get to have one without the other. And it is not my job to manage his mind.
It is my job to manage my own mind, and give him authentic honor. Sometimes, that looks like pushing back on him!
This is actually closer to Biblical relationship than some of what I’ve heard taught in a few of the buttoned-up, bullet-pointed marriage seminars. Submission does not equal checking my brains or my sense of what is right at the door.
Thankfully, I am married to a guy who not only sometimes makes me have to push back on him (if we were alike, one of us would be unnecessary), he sometimes…eventually….comes around to seeing it my way.
And sometimes not.
C’est La Vie, no? Such is life.
Regardless, in this season of our lives, it is more and more natural for both of us to radically receive one another, regardless. Negative beliefs about each other have no control over us, at any point in our thinking. We are fully confident that the other either is, or eventually will be fully submitted to Christ in key areas, and Christ is the one who gets to manage the other’s mind.
Our passion for one another is alive and quite well. I’m saying that delicately.
Can I just say I think he’s hot? Can I just say that?
The Holy Spirit has taught me that the passion and intimacy in my marriage is equal to the sum total of the quality of my thoughts about this man. Honestly? Passion can be made “new every day”, by applying the simple Gospel to my actual struggles. I am renewed, by hearing God speak over us, and believing what He says.
On to my creative practice. It is normal and natural for me to wake up with fresh eyes. Do I often have to contend for that? Absolutely! But complete victory now comes in minutes. Literally. It is now normal and natural for me to awaken, and instantly…automatically…all negative, sad, or overwhelmed feelings are pushed far, far behind me.
I lost my father in August of last year. What that did to me, was to make me a gratitude ninja. I became so thankful for my friends and my family. Losing the delight of my life (other than Jesus, my husband, kids and grandkids) only served to give me a determination to actually honor his memory by walking in abounding emotional health, and vocal praise.
So I have been surfing all the normal waves of grief since early 2017, when my dad was diagnosed and began to decline in ways that those close to him could tell, but others perhaps could not. Our whole family knew that without a miracle, he only had about 5 years left, at most.
And I still surf the same waves after last summer’s profound loss. Just a week ago, the Preacher and I made a hospital visit to a church member. As we entered the hospital parking lot, tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t figure out the sudden wave of emotion. Truly, I wondered why I felt weepy!
It took me a moment to realize: because of COVID, this was my first visit to a hospital since my father was in the hospital last summer. Grief. We carry it in our neurons, when we have loved well. It’s normal. What isn’t normal is to let grief interfere with your relationships, or with your original design.
See, my people need the version of me that is whole, healed or healing, healthy, and full of hope. Because I love them, turning inward is not an option. Expecting them to emotionally carry me is inappropriate. Because I love them, my own whole, integrated, original design is what I am determined to give them, as much as it depends on me to do it.
These are things Holy Spirit has taught me. And so….there is flourishing, because that’s His will for my life.
(I warned you that this post would be chatty…)
Can we talk about my nest? My home? The creativity I am unleashing inside these walls is at an all time high.
Believe me, I’ve had long, dry creative spells. I could - and probably should - write a book about how that, every time I set my mind to a creative work, the push back was so fierce and so heart rending and so personal as to be terrifying. I have crawled across broken glass, figuratively, to be able to call myself an “artist” today.
How? Leaning into anything and everything God says.
This home of mine is lovely. It is organized and quirky and exudes a presence and a hospitality that friends with much larger, more beautiful, million-dollar-homes have told me is tangible. My dear friend Jeanne Oliver tells me that her overnight visit to our home ranks in her top three times of feeling loved and cared for in her life.
This culdesac is a small colony of heaven to us and others. (I bet your home is, too!) My family lives all around me, and now also my friends Angel and Derrick and Sadie. The Preacher and I often yell to each other, from one of us at one end of the house, to the other at the other end of the house: “WHO EVEN ARE WE?!?”
We don’t even know. It’s above and beyond what we could ask, think, or imagine.
How? How can we live this way, in a somewhat declining, lower middle class neighborhood that others have actually fled?
Well, the Holy Spirit is my coach. He is my mentor. He is a consummate teacher. He told me, years ago: “Love what is, and love what is yours.” And so - I obeyed.
That’s it. You can’t have the results of obedience without obedience. God is still your good, good Father, but obedience sets your life on a certain trajectory that no one can reverse engineer. (Please read that one more time!).
If I have gotten off track, it is only by changing my mind to obey what the Holy Spirit has said, can my life (and heck, let’s be honest - even my dang day) be put back on a trajectory towards its lovely, original design.
Believe me, your original design is what you want. It’s the “you” that your people most need, and it’s the “you” that will flourish, nomatterwhat.
These words? They are my testimony. These pictures? With the exception of our “couple” photo, I have been careful to only pick what’s on my phone from just the past week.
Why allthewords? Why chat with you about these things? Here’s why:
“This is what the LORD says: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, nor the strong man in his strength, nor the wealthy man in his riches. But let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD, who exercises loving devotion, justice and righteousness on the earth— for I delight in these things,” declares the LORD.”
I hope you heard me when I said (and I said it often), “The Holy Spirit is the consummate Teacher.”
I don’t have anything to boast about that’s mine, or comes from me, but I am allowed a certain kind of “boasting” in knowing God. And He is mine. Every good thing in my life, including this season of favor and sweetness, stems from knowing who He is, and refusing what does not line up with His goodness and His gospel. Even grief, though real and wholly normal, has to become something that works for my good and His glory.
Otherwise, I’d act out and act weird and….I’d just act. I’d put on an act. Without a simple faith in a simple Gospel found in one simple Book, I’d have to resort to the interwebs for my identity, and I’d have to depend on worship songs for my theology…
…and I’d have to read other women’s books instead of write my own God-given vision.
On that note, it actually isn’t inconsistent whatsoever to tell you that I’ve also been deeply inspired by this piece of writing by Phylicia Masonheimer, titled “May His Abundance Never Scare You”.
“The lie that suffering is more holy than Sabbath seasons is just that: a lie. Suffering teaches us much; the things I’ve learned through chronic illness, surgery, job loss, false labors and a difficult marriage will be with me forever. The imprint is eternally upon my heart. But I am learning that our abundant seasons, our harvest seasons, are as full of lessons and goodness as the famine was. Refusing to accept them just shortchanges our growth. Refusing to open our hands and hearts to the fullness of God’s abundance helps no one and hurts us.”
May I be one who understands and knows the Living God. May I testify from this place, always.