Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

New Year's Resolutions

To the Land I Will Show You

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I have always loved the start of a brand-new year. I relish swapping out the wrinkled, scribbled planner for a brand-new one chock-full of white pages and empty squares. I love to make resolutions, to list out goals, to dream and plan. I love that the dawning of a new year offers the perfect opportunity to reflect on what has passed and plan for what is to come.

I spent some time over the holidays thinking back on 2019. It was a year of big change and transition for me – both  professionally and personally – as I stepped out of the publishing arena, put book-writing on the back-back-back burner, turned my attention to my work at The Salvation Army and began to figure out who I am and who I want to be.

The year was not without sorrow. Case in point: I bawled my eyes out at the end of the new Little Women film, as Jo stood behind the plate-glass window and watched her novel being typeset, printed and bound. The joy and satisfaction on her face as she held her first book in her hands pricked a tender spot in me, and as I left the theater all glassy-eyed, still dabbing at my nose with a Kleenex, I couldn’t help but panic a little bit: “Why on earth did I quit? What have I done?!”

Still, when I look back at all of 2019, I feel solidly good. On one hand, not much happened – at least outwardly. But the transformation that has taken place within made it one of the most exhilarating years of my life. I’ve stripped a lot away; I’ve been pruned back to what feels like my pith. This past year marked the beginning of a journey toward reclaiming myself – a journey that will continue for as long as I am alive.

At the same time I am sensing a restlessness, a low-level agitation humming beneath the surface of these early January days. I feel like there is a “next thing” on the horizon – the problem is, I don’t yet know what that “next thing” is. I’m confident that writing will continue to be an important part of my personal story and my vocation, but I am still uncertain as to what shape it will take. A new creative project? A more substantial commitment to non-profit work? Blog writing? Something else altogether?  The role writing will play in my life going forward is still a shifting mirage in the far-off distance.

In the quiet early morning of New Year’s Eve, tucked into the corner of my brother- and sister-in-law’s sofa in Minnesota, eight inches of freshly fallen snow blanketing the back yard, I read the story in Genesis of Abram’s calling, specifically these words:

“The Lord said to Abram: ‘Go forth from your land, from your relatives and from your father’s house to a land that I will show you.’” (12:1)

The distance between Haran – Abram and his wife Sarai’s current town of residence – to the new land God had for them in Canaan was about 400 miles. Abram didn’t know which land, exactly, God had for him. He didn’t know where it was, what it looked like or how long it would take to travel there. He couldn’t see Canaan from where he stood in Haran. And yet, with his wife, his nephew Lot, and his livestock and people, he set out for that unseen land. Abram simply trusted God at his word. He trusted God would tell him when he had arrived at the place God had for him.

Turns out, like Abram, I’m en route to the place God has for me. This place has not yet been revealed. I can’t yet see it from where I stand, and I don’t really have any idea what it will look like. It is, at this point, a matter of trust – trust that God will indeed show me not only the land I am traveling to, but also the way to get there.

The Year of Curiosity

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I haven’t chosen a Word of the Year for a few years now, not because I don’t like the idea, but simply because nothing has risen to the surface. Last month, though, as I was rereading Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic, I couldn’t help but notice the word curiosity.

Gilbert is big on curiosity, which she refers to as a “devotion to inquisitiveness.” She understands that nurturing our curiosity is an important part of what she calls creative living, which she defines as: “living a life driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear.”

It’s important to note that Gilbert doesn’t limit “creative living” to creative vocations like writing, art or music. Rather, she sees the potential for creative living, for pursuing inquisitiveness, as something inherent in all of us, regardless of our chosen professions.

The more I read and the more I pondered, the more I realized that somehow, over time and amid responsibilities, obligations, duties and deadlines, I’ve lost, or perhaps abandoned, my God-given sense of curiosity.

Here, for example, are some of Gilbert’s questions and my answers, which I recorded in my journal as I was reading Big Magic:

“What fascinates you?” I don’t know.

“What makes your curious? What excites you? What kind of activity would make you lose all track of time? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

“What activity beyond the mundane takes you out of your established and limiting roles?” I don’t know.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you probably know that I am a rule follower through and through. Type A, a 3 on the Enneagram (“Achiever”), deadline drive, efficient to a fault, my first priority is always to do what needs to be done. I “make it happen,” as my dad always urged when I was growing up.

There’s nothing wrong with being a responsible Type A achiever. As an Enneagram 3, I keep company with people like Condoleezza Rice, nine-time Olympic gold medalist Carl Lewis, AA founder Bill Wilson, Oprah Winfrey, and Madonna. Not a bad line-up (on the other hand, other famous 3s include Augustus Caesar, O.J. Simpson, Bernie Madoff, Tiger Woods, Lance Armstrong and Kevin Spacey…but we’ll leave that for another blog post).

This drive to “make it happen” – to tick off every item on my to-do list, meet every deadline, fulfill every obligation and achieve every goal – becomes problematic, however, when it becomes my default, when my drive to accomplish and achieve comes at the expense of everything else.

Looking back to 2017, I see that my life has been driven largely by productivity, punctuated by periods of rampant social media use. I’m either scrambling full-steam ahead to meet my deadlines and check the next item off my to-do list, or, drained and exhausted, self-medicating with mind-numbing skimming and scrolling.

Social media, it seems, has become a panacea for true curiosity, and my own brain, whirling and churning with everyone else’s thoughts, ideas, opinions and products, has essentially checked out. I’ve gotten lazy, complacent. Why pursue my own inquisitiveness when I can simply read about someone else’s quest?

This, it turns out, is precisely how one ends up living a supposed “creative life” that is actually devoid of creative living.

And thus, how it’s come to be that curiosity is my word for 2018.

Truthfully, I don’t know what living curiously will look for me this year. I have only the slightest hints so far, words and phrases I’ve penned in my journal that might, or might not, be pathways to curiosity: nature, walking, photography, cooking, writing what I feel like writing about, rather than what I feel like I should be writing about.

I don’t know exactly how, or even if, I will pursue any of these possible areas of interest. I don’t know if there are other interests still waiting to be discovered (though I suspect there are).

What I do know is that I need to pay closer attention to what lights a fire in my spirit. And then, instead of dutifully checking off the next item on my to-do list, or reading online about the fabulously interesting curiosity someone else is pursuing, I need to put down the to-do list, power down the Internet, and, as Elizabeth Gilbert advises, find the courage to bring forth the treasures hidden within me.

This is part one of a two-part series on my 2018 themes. Next week: hospitality.

This Year, Hold Your Own Plans Loosely & Listen for the Quiet Voice of God

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I’m big on New Year’s resolutions. Every year I make four or five, and while I don’t always keep them past January 31 (case in point: “floss daily” has been an annual resolution for ten years running), I always have good intentions.

I also like to kick off the New Year by reading a book that will both inspire me and help me identify my goals for the year. Recently I posted a note on Facebook asking for recommendations for my January read. I specified that I was looking for a non-fiction book focusing on productivity, goal setting, and “how to figure out what to do with my life.”

I got a several intriguing suggestions in the comments, but one woman’s recommendation stopped me short. “Rebecca” (and for the record, I don’t know Rebecca personally) suggested, “Instead of choosing your own goals, pray and ask God for His goals and do that. His plan is always better than our plan.”

I admit, I bristled when I read Rebecca’s comment. It felt a little bit like I was being lectured, as if Rebecca was suggesting that as a Christian, I shouldn’t set goals, but instead should simply “go with God.” I rolled my eyes and wrote Rebecca off as a holier-than-thou wet blanket.

The problem was, days later I was still thinking about Rebecca’s comment. Turns out, she’s right, at least in part.

On one hand, I think Rebecca oversimplified the process of listening to God. To simply “pray and ask God for His goals and do that” implies that God operates like a magic genie: ask your question, rub the lamp, get your answer. Unfortunately, at least in my experience, God doesn’t download an Excel spreadsheet, complete with action steps and measureable outcomes, directly into my brain.

It seems instead that God reveals his plans much more slowly and quietly. Sometimes, honestly, it seems he doesn’t reveal them to us at all. I rarely recognize God’s plans as they unfold in the moment. Instead, the impact of his subtle work in my life is often only visible in retrospect, as I look back months or even years later.

On the other hand, I think Rebecca was right in observing that most of us, especially at this time of year, are so busy resolving, planning, and executing, we forget about God himself. So focused are we on writing our to-do lists and strategizing our goals for the year, we forget that we are not in control.

I learn this lesson the hard way over and over again. Every time my plans go off the rails and I find myself shaking an angry fist at God, I’m humbly reminded that the reason I’m disappointed is because I’ve put my faith, hope, and confidence in plans of my own making, rather than in God himself.

I still made a couple of resolutions this year (though fewer than I normally do), and I’ll still kick off the New Year with a book that I hope will help me identify my goals and priorities (if you have any suggestions, let me know!). Frankly I can’t help it; I will always be a Triple Type A planner.

But I’m also going to take Rebecca’s advice. I will incline my heart toward God, listening for the whisper of his still, small voice in my soul. And I will try to hold the plans I make loosely, trusting that God’s plans, even those yet to be revealed, are ultimately better than any I could make for myself.

Forget the Resolutions…Here’s the One New Year’s Question That Can Change Everything

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I hesitate to admit this out loud, especially because 2016 was fraught with so much tension, destruction, and heartache for so many, but 2016 was a good year for me. One of my best ever, in fact.

I say this not because of any achievements, awards, amazing book sales, or fabulous professional opportunities — none of those things happened, actually. I don’t call 2016 good because of any external accomplishments and not because of any extrinsic goals that were pursued and met, but simply because during those 365 days I was transformed deeply and wholly from the inside out.

Going into 2016, I didn’t have the faintest inkling this would happen. But coming out on the other side, I know it’s true. I am a new person on this, the fourth day of January, 2017, a different person than I was a year ago today.

I have an idea of who I am and where I am going, perhaps for the first time in my life. I have a confidence, a self-assuredness I didn’t know was inside me. And most of all, I have a peace in me I didn’t even know was possible.

This newness, this new life, is changing the way I do and think about everything.

I’ve always been a big NewYear’s resolution maker. If you’ve been reading here for a while, you might remember a post or two about that. Over the years I’ve resolved to read the Bible more, limit computer time in the evenings, go to bed earlier, get up earlier, run more regularly, be on social media less, improve my microbiome health (don’t ask) and start flossing. I’ve kept some of those resolutions (for a while at least); others I dropped before I even got started (ahem, flossing).

This year, though, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I didn’t make any hard and fast New Year’s resolutions. Instead, I thought a little bit about who I am and where I think, God willing, I’m going, and I began to put some pieces into place that might help move those plans forward.

This year, I’m less about the letter of the law and more about a gentle easing, less about forcing a stringent rubric on myself, and more about embracing the softer rhythm and pace I know is best for me.

The One New Year's Question that Will Change Everything

Don’t get me wrong. My Type A, #3-on-the-Enneagram self still loves resolutions. But for now, for this time and place, I also know they aren’t for me in 2017.

“Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that,” Paul advised the Galatians. “Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.” (6:4-5, The Message)

Who are you?

Knowing the answer to that small but powerful question is the key, the foundation, the stepping stone to everything else in Paul’s statement and beyond. If you don’t know who you yet are, you must begin there, because no number of well-crafted resolutions can determine that quintessential answer for you.

You must begin at that daunting and perhaps even frightening place —  Who am I? — and together with God uncover the answer.

I think that’s what I did in 2016…or at least what I started to do. I stepped into that small, powerful, sometimes scary question — Who am I? — and began to uncover the answer.

And it’s changed everything.

I’m not saying I have it all figured out. I suspect this will be a lifelong journey. I suspect I’ve really only just begun. But I will say with confidence that in 2016, without even really intending to (at least initially), I made a careful exploration of who I am and the work I have been given. And now, today, as I glance backward and look ahead, I am beginning to see the fruits of that deep soul work. These fruits may not ever be evident to anyone outside my most immediate circle of close friends and loved ones, but they are there nonetheless.

So that’s my advice for you, friends, as we step with hope and optimism into this new year. Make a careful exploration of who you are. Take a deep breath and ask the hard question — Who am I? Keep asking it, again and again. Pause, listen, and ask again, until you begin to hear the faintest whisper rising up from deep within your soul.

And then begin to walk with God into the answer.

Fail Better

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A couple of weeks ago I came across last year’s list of New Year’s Resolutions. Let’s just say 2013 was an epic fail, as least as far as resolutions are concerned:

Exercise: Register and run for a 10K. Fail.

Sleep: Lights off by 10 p.m.; up at 5:45 a.m. Fail.

Health: Take a multi-vitamin and calcium pill daily. Fail.

Spirituality: Dinnertime Bible reading. Fail.

Work: Off the computer between 7-9 a.m. and between 3:30 – 9 p.m. Fail times ten.

Like I said, epic fail.

The thing about failure is that it can really set you back (no kidding, right?). You can look at all the ways you missed the mark, and you can conclude you’re a loser with a capital L. A flub. A big-fat-never-going-to-get-anywhere failure. A why-should-I-even-bother-trying disaster.

Or, you can make a different choice. You can choose, as writer Dani Shapiro says, to fail better.

At first glance that doesn’t make a bit of sense, does it? Fail better? What good is that? you might ask. I don’t want merely to fail better, I want to succeed. I want to move forward. I want to overcome, excel, get ahead, reach my goal, surpass my goal.

Fail better? No thank you very much.

But the hard  truth is, success isn’t possible without failure first. To fail better, as Shapiro says, “to be willing to fail — not just once, but again and again, over the course of a lifetime” is key. Failing again and again, failing better, is a necessary part of the process.

J.K. Rowling’s manuscript for Harry Potter was rejected 12 times before it was eventually published, and even then, her editor advised her to get a day job, predicting she would never make a living writing children’s fiction.

Steve Jobs was fired from Apple, the multi-billion dollar company he’d built from the ground up. “I was a very public failure,” he noted in a 2005 commencement speech to Stanford University graduates.

Walt Disney was fired by a newspaper editor because, “he lacked imagination and had no good ideas.”

I don’t need to tell you how each of these people pressed on with tenacity, putting one foot in front of the other despite the fact that they undoubtedly felt like a big, fat failure at the time. And you can bet these epic failures aren’t the only ones they endured along the way. These are only the failures we know about.

Even the big-wig apostle Paul failed. He persecuted and murdered Christians for years before he met Jesus on the road to Damascus. Then, after his dramatic conversion, he continued to fail, acknowledging that even with the best intentions, he failed time and time again.

“I don’t really understand myself,” he admitted in his letter to the Romans, “for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate…I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.” (Romans 7:15, 19)

Can’t you hear the frustration in his voice? The despair? The complete and utter disappointment in himself?

But Paul’s story doesn’t end there, in defeat. He doesn’t give up; he doesn’t let failure overcome him. Instead, he presses on, determined and faithful. “No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it,” he tells the Philippians, “but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead.” (3:13) Paul presses on. He resolves to fail better.

Rowling, Jobs, Disney and yes, even Paul, remind us that failure is not only inevitable but necessary, and not only in work, but across the spectrum: in our jobs, in parenting, in marriage, in friendship, in faith. Failure is always, always part of the recipe for success, yet we need not dwell on our shortcomings. We need not obsess over where and how many times we’ve missed the mark. Instead, we reflect, we try to learn from the missteps, we take stock, and then we press on in faith and hope.

::

My 2014 Resolutions:

1. Improve microbiome health with regular probiotics.
2.  Exercise: Run 4-5 days/week.
3. No computer 7-9 a.m. and 4:30-9 p.m.
4. Daily morning Bible reading 6-6:30 a.m. &
#TheJesusProject memorization
5. Fail Better

And with Holley Gerth’s new link-up here.