The same verse — Deuteronomy 30:19 — crossed my path twice in two days last week, and when that happens, I pay attention. I first read the verse in Sarah Bessey’s new book Miracles and Other Reasonable Things (which I loved and highly recommend). Then I read the very same verse again the next morning in Christine Valters Paintner’s book The Soul of a Pilgrim (which I also loved and highly recommend):
“I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.” (Deuteronomy 30:19)
In other words, we have a choice, right? And, as Paintner puts it, “Each choice allows us to move toward the things which bring us life. If we don’t choose the path of growth, we can move toward that which drains us of life. The call of the pilgrim is to stay awake to our own patterns of life and death.”
Staying awake to our patterns of life and death sounds like a valuable and fruitful practice, but I know from experience that it’s easier said than done. It takes deep intentionality not only to stay awake, but also to awaken to these patterns — many of which are deeply ingrained in us — in the first place. So much can get in the way of both our awakening and our staying awake: busyness, distraction, expectations (our own and others’), depletion (physical, mental or spiritual), fear, self-protection and our insecurities.
I’m nearly 50. But only in the last year have I begun to figure out exactly what gives me life. I simply had never taken the time to stop mindlessly going through the motions in order to ask which ways of being made me come alive and which depleted me. Always three steps ahead of myself, always striving to accomplish the next goal or meet the next milestone, I tumbled from one project to the next without pausing for a breath. I didn’t ever stop to consider whether I was actually getting life from this tremendous expenditure of energy.
When I finally did stop to reflect, I realized most of my ways of being and doing – platform-building, speaking, social media, saying yes to things I didn’t want to do, striving, comparing – were draining the life from me and driving me farther and farther away from my true self.
Ironically, I think one of the reasons I stayed caught in the “death pattern” for so long was because I was too depleted to begin to make the hard choices and changes I knew I needed. I was simply too tired to care and in too far to know where or how to begin. It stands to reason that the more depleted we are, the less we are able to make the very choices that will begin to replenish and sustain us.
I remember during the first few days of January last year I read a verse from First Corinthians that resonated deeply with me. I had just released True You and that, combined with the holiday season, had drained me to my core. I was running on fumes when I read this:
“Let’s live our part of the Feast, not as raised bread swollen with the yeast of evil, but as flat bread — simple, genuine, unpretentious.” (5:6-8, The Message).
I could see that flat bread in my mind’s eye — light, good, warm from the oven, unadorned and plain, yet satisfying — and something in me knew that’s what I desired in the deepest part of myself. I yearned for simple. I desired genuine but ordinary.
These days my life looks very much like flat bread. I go to the gym with my husband and we spin side-by-side. I walk the dog in the Nebraska winter wind. I drop Rowan off at his viola lessons and return 45 minutes later to pick him up. I write fundraising copy for The Salvation Army. I take my vitamins and go to bed early.
I still occasionally gaze longingly through the bakery window at all the fancy loaves lined up on the cooling rack. The siren song of “more, bigger, better” still captivates me from time to time, tempting me to revert to my old patterns and ways. Mostly, though, I am working on staying awake to that which gives me life, and in the process, I am discovering that flat bread is much more satisfying and filling than I ever could have imagined.
Photo by Nancy Hann on Unsplash.
Hi Michelle,
Ah, simplicity. And that can get complicated in today’s world, unless, as you say, you intentionally seek and live it. I love those repeated messages God sends, and that in itself is a reason to pay attention. God has repeated the word ALL to me, but not as in be ALL, have ALL, do ALL, but in surrendering ALL to Him, because He’s given me His ALL (it’s my “word” for 2020). You’ve surrendered a lot of things to the Lord of late, but obviously you’ve received so much back . . . full satisfaction. I’m so happy for you. I loved Painter’s book, and literally was just thinking of it. Perhaps God’s repetition of it in your blogpost is a reason for me to pay attention and pull it from my pantry? I have flatbread too! Flat books that line a number of my pantry shelves instead of actual food. But still, they are food for thought and sustenance for me. Books abound in our house (my books!), but when they graduate to the pantry, they are nearby for easy access, and I am about to read or review them. Thanks for the post. I always enjoy hearing from you.
Love
Lynn
PS Have you read Seth’s Book of Waking Up? Are you living by one, simple word this year?
I love that you keep books in your pantry, Lynn! 🙂 🙂
And yes, I did choose a word for the year: open. And I did read Seth’s book, which I loved.
Tx for confirming: know Seth’s book will be wonderful. And open: Yes! Open pruning. You would NOT believe how many places I store books. Then again, maybe you would! Love you!
xo
Michelle,
I love this. You are teaching and leading me with every post. thank you:)
Thank you for this great image and metaphor. It really resonates with me. I find regular bread likes to stay with me….in my hips and not in a good way. So I don’t eat much of it any more. Flat bread, the way of life.
LOL, Janet! I love how you are carrying the metaphor forward. I so hear you on the regular bread sticking with you (and not in a good way!).
The simpler, the better, Michelle. Loved the analogy about the bread, too!
Blessings!
As always, your beautiful prose reflects my heart. I find myself drawn to the simplicity and quiet life you speak of – and yet sense I am dwelling in a land. surrounded by folks of so many promoting platform building and working to gather a “following”, so I often feel like a fish swimming up stream. Yet, with each of your posts I find a kindred spirit, who graciously reminds me that the quiet and simple is quite fine – as I am listening to the way I was created to “BE” vs the siren song of “to DO.” Thank you Michelle.
It’s tough, Ann – I hear you. The messages we hear are loud and persistent, and it’s hard work to swim against the current. I find that creating some space between myself and all the noise and busyness helps (i.e. spending less time on social media) and also listening to other “kindred spirits.” If you are not familiar with Tonia Peckover, google her and consider subscribing to her blog and/or newsletter. She is wise and has some wonderful insights to offer.
I read this blog post, then opened up the d365 meditation for today. It won’t take you long to guess the Scripture passage for today: Deuteronomy 30:17-20. The Universe is saying something to me and you, Michelle, are a voice it is using. Thank you.
Ahhhh the lingering scent of flat bread across so much of the Body of Christ right now. At 69, stepping into and through the threshold into 70 this year, it is the taste for simplicity and authenticity and all the other spiritual disciplines and practices calling us to gather once more around the Bread of Life and a drink of Living Water. Looking back, I can say with a smile that runs deep, a reawakening is indeed beginning. From generation to generation the call is going out. Our rsvp is required to the One and Only who is waiting to do a new thing. He is calling us to live fully alive. This was just one more intentional call.
Michelle — loved this post. I was in a similar situation, in a job that totally drained me. On my own, I was not strong enough to make any changes. Then, they did some downsizing and I was part of it. I have always seen this as a “God thing” — he did something for me that I was not able to do on my own. I like the analogy of flat bread. Will try to keep this in the forefront as I go forward. Thank you!!
Michelle,
This is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good. Thanks for continuing to share your heart, wisdom, and words. I can’t tell you how many copies of “True You” I have given to my college students. Thanks for blessing us via your blog.
Michelle – an author/poet friend who was the editor on my last book shared this post with me. What profound words. Years ago, after the end of an abusive marriage (where he said he’d kill himself or me every day) I filled up the pain with “things”. A huge house (I was an airline Captain at the time so I had a good income), lots of “stuff” and I was miserable. I found my way back to God, sold the house, gave all the furnishings to a young couple who’d lost everything in a flood as they awaited approval to adopt an infant (they got a new son a month after they got their new place fixed up) and rented a one-bedroom condo, where years later I married my now-husband, a Christian I’d been friends with for years. I’ve never been happier. Give me more flatbread.