Do you know what awful thought I had one day the other week? "Tomorrow is Saturday, so I can do real devotions." Hot coffee, candles, morning light, and, you know, the Bible. The thought stopped me in my tracks on my way to work. Since when does reading the Word and seeking the Lord depend on how picturesque my set up is? I was struck by the absolute certainty of my thoughts. I was assuming that my circumstances affected my worship, that prayer could only happen with the smells of fresh baked banana bread filling my kitchen. Sometimes I call it the "Instagram Effect." I don’t know about the rest of you, but Instagram sure makes me feel like my friends live perfect lives. My own page tells a different shade of story than my actual life would. So as every perfectly styled, golden-lit picture flits past my eyes and splashes onto my mind's portrait of "normal," I slowly, subconsciously, begin to believe in a world that only exists through i-Phone cameras: perfect symmetry, steamy hot beverages, blindingly blue skies. My innate love of all things beautiful and cozy goes into overdrive, seeking constant satisfaction and comfort in aesthetics. I begin to assume that this is just how life should be. Right? I become ungrateful, winey, discontent, and hard. I begin to demand the beautiful rather than appreciate it, and in the meantime lose any ability to take joy in simple pleasures for the very fact that I am concentrating too much on obtaining them. I am reminded of Jesus's words to his disciples in the book of Matthew: "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it" (Matthew 16: 24-25). His is the backwards Kingdom, running counter to our deepest instincts. He has been teaching me that I must love in measure, that I must find joy in him before I find joy in others or other things. Otherwise I spiral; I judge the world by Instagram standards and ravenously chase The Beautiful without any reference to The Maker. I've started to do devotions on my 45-minute train trip to work. It's so unglamorous, squished between 5000 other New Jersey commuters on the 7:56 to 33rd street. Sometimes I feel self-conscious because I think everyone is reading over my shoulder. Do I look silly? Where is my morning joe and the dewy light? It has been a good practice. As some of you know, this has been a difficult season in life. My husband and I are incredibly busy, stretched, and often discouraged. We don't see each other as much as we'd like. It is easy for me to turn the small comforts into ultimate ones, to think that a good homemade soup or fuzzy socks will fix loneliness or fatigue. But God, the ever-faithful teacher, reminds me every Sunday night--as I mentally prepare for work the next morning--that only he will bring a new song in the morning. (PS: incidentally, I am writing this while curled up in a blanket, sipping coffee, listening to night sounds. I'm very cozy. And content.)
6 Comments
Caroline C
11/1/2015 07:53:21 pm
I love this Sarah! Thanks for sharing. :) I'm glad you're blogging!
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Marti Hutchison
11/1/2015 07:53:36 pm
Yep. I get that. All of it.
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marsha edgett
11/1/2015 08:25:50 pm
I love your writings.
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Dana Burchel
11/1/2015 08:29:28 pm
So there, too. Thanks for sharing and putting devotions in perspective. You ARE an inspiration! God is using you in your season.
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Sarah
11/2/2015 07:56:51 am
Thank you so much, Aunt Dana! Really, thank you. Your support and encouragement mean so much.
Reply
Nana
11/1/2015 08:35:08 pm
Great insight! Your doing a great job.
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Authorwife to a med student and mama to three under three, seeking the joyful and learning to live by faith. Find me on Instagram and Pinterest or shoot me an email. I'd love to hear from you!
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