Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

spiritual disciplines

Practicing Ordinary Tasks as Spiritual Disciplines

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I noticed recently that several of the baseboards and doorframes in my house looked dingy. I like white trim, but the downside is that it readily shows smudges, stains and nicks. Last week, unable to tolerate my home’s dilapidated woodwork a moment longer, I grabbed a brush, pried open a can of white paint and got to work.

I don’t mind painting, especially touching up trim. I find the precise work soothing, the repetitive sweep of the brush back and forth over molding and baseboards, the rhythmic dip of the bristles in and out of the smooth paint.

I’d intentionally chosen not to listen to my usual podcasts or music in favor of silence. With my kids at school and my husband at work, the only sounds in the house were the whoosh of the heat blowing out of the vents and the dog snoring softly in her bed. I was hoping the quiet and the hypnotic motion of the paintbrush over the wood would allow my mind the space to noodle over a writing project I am working on. What I didn’t expect was that painting would turn out to be an unconventional spiritual discipline of sorts.

“Constant noise, interruption and drivenness to be more productive cut us off or at least interrupt the direct experience of God and other human beings,” observes Ruth Haley Barton in her book, Sacred Rhythms: Arranging Our Lives for Spiritual Transformation.

I’ve found this to be true in my own life. I often use social media, busyness and my to-do list to create connection and meaning. I rush from task to task, place to place and errand to errand. I skate by on bits of shallow connection – an email, a Facebook comment, a string of texts. I don’t often linger with people in real, face-to-face conversation. I don’t often allow myself the time and space to soak in the details of a particular place or moment, to let my mind and heart wander toward God.

I didn’t pray outright or reflect on Bible verses as I crouched on my knees last week, paintbrush in hand, nor did I set out to be intentionally “spiritual.” Rather, I simply focused on the task, let my thoughts come and go and was present in the moment.

I noticed the acrid smell of the paint and the faint scent of polish emanating from the wood. I felt the warmth of the heat as it gushed from the grate. I listened to the black-capped chickadee’s two-note call from the magnolia tree outside the window and noticed how a square of sunlight shifted across the living room floor as the afternoon waned.

This attention to the details of the moment was in itself a kind of worship. As Brother Lawrence once wrote, “We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.”

God desires to connect with us personally and intimately. But in our frenetic, loud, technology-dependent lives, we rarely allow the stillness, quiet and space for that connection to happen. The restless agitation we often feel simmering just under the surface hints that we are missing something important, but we don’t allow ourselves the opportunity to figure out what that something is.

Turns out, that “something” we are missing is the nearness of God.

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I wrote a whole e-book on practicing ordinary tasks as spiritual disciplines, called Five Unconventional Spiritual Practices for Your Soul, which I offer as a free gift to subscribers of my weekly blog or monthly newsletter. Interested? You can subscribe HERE. Once you submit the form, you’ll get an email from me with a link to the downloadable PDF of the e-book.

The Spiritual Discipline of Arriving Early

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“If you’re on time you’re late.”

This is my dad’s mantra, repeated time and time again throughout my childhood. More than once my sister was left howling at the end of our driveway, shoes in hand, as my dad drove down the street, my mother in the passenger seat, insisting that he turn the car around and retrieve her. He always did, but we never knew if this was the time Jeanine would finally be left behind.

You’d think, given my history, that I would tend toward either relentless tardiness or PTSD-induced punctuality. But the truth is, I actually like to arrive early. I do it intentionally, purposefully, not just because my dad drilled it into me, but because it’s good for my body, mind and soul.

…I’m delighted to be at Emily Freeman’s place today, writing about why I intentionally try to arrive early…join me over there? 

The Spiritual Habit of Taking a Technology Break

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The truth is, we were all a bit nervous – me especially. The thought of spending three weeks in a north woods cabin with no WiFi and no television gave us serious pause.

“What will we dooooo?” Rowan whined. “You’ll figure something out,” I assured him. “Either that or you’ll be really, really bored. It’s pretty much your choice.”

I’m as critical of my own addiction to screens as I am of my kids’. Sure, I need social media for my job. It’s how I connect with readers, share my blog posts and support other writers. But I abuse it. I waste A LOT of time online, which impacts not only my productivity, but also my mental health. The time I spend online rarely fills the well. More often than not, scrolling social media leaves me feeling agitated, empty and mysteriously depressed.

After dinner the first night at the cabin, Brad, the kids and I sat around the living and talked, among other things, about global population growth. Population growth! Who would have thought my ten-year-old and fourteen-year-old sons would be interested in talking about population growth!

Honestly, this conversation likely would not have happened at our own house, where, after dinner, Noah typically retreats to his room to listen to music or play computer games, Brad and Rowan enjoy an episode of “River Monsters” or “The Carbonaro Effect,” and I slide into my favorite corner of the couch with my laptop. We chat in bits and pieces between episodes or when Noah descends the stairs to grab a snack, but we rarely converse. Stepping away from our screens for an extended period has given us the space and time to connect in a much deeper and more meaningful way.

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I’m not saying this technology hiatus won’t have its challenging moments. Yesterday, after 12 straight hours of “quality family time” with my kids, my head just about popped off and plunked into Lake Superior. I ended up sending everyone to their respective beds – myself included — for some much-needed reading time.

Mostly, though, I think it’s going to be good for all of us. Really good. As I sit typing this post at a local cafe, coffee and wild berry scone at my side, my three men are deep in the woods at the edge of a rushing river in pursuit of the elusive “brookie” (brook trout, for those of you who don’t speak fishese). Later we’ll walk Josie beneath a canopy of birch trees, search the shore for the perfect skipping stones and snug under our blankets with a good book.

It’s not easy to take a technology break. Believe me, if I weren’t tucked into a cabin in the north woods of Minnesota with the nearest WiFi a 15-minute drive down the road, I wouldn’t be inclined to step away from my computer for an extended period of time…and certainly not for three weeks. But this forced technology hiatus is helping me to see how critically important it is to step away – not just for a few hours or a weekend at a time, but for an extended period.

Small breaks away from technology are necessary and good, but longer breaks, if you can manage them, are better. After weathering the inevitable two or three days of agitated restlessness that typically accompany a technology detox, you’ll be surprised to find that your days are longer and slower, your breathing deeper and easier, and your mind more free to roam into new, unexplored places.

And the truth is, no one will miss you. I’m not saying that to be cruel; it’s simply a fact. Too much time online leads us to believe that we absolutely have to be there – that if we’re not, the Internet will break or worse, that we’ll be forgotten forever. Neither is true. The noisy, busy world will be just fine without your voice in it for a week or two. And when you come back, it will be as if you were never gone.

This post is the fifth in my Spiritual Habits series. If you missed a post or two, you can catch up here: 

How Our Habits Can Impact Our Spirituality {introduction}

The Spiritual Habit of Digging Dandelions

The Spiritual Habit of Staying in Place

How to Make Bible-Reading a Habit That Sticks

How to Make Bible-Reading a Habit that Sticks

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Let me tell you straight up: I don’t read the Bible every day. My goal is to read a bit of the Bible every day, but I frequently fall short. This week, for instance, we’ve endured raucous thunderstorms at all hours of the night. You may not know this, but Nebraska thunderstorms don’t simply blow in and out in 20 minutes. Rather, they last hours…sometimes all night long. Which means I don’t sleep. Which means sometime around 3 or 4 a.m. I turn off my alarm. Which means I don’t get up much before my kids get up…which means I don’t get my morning Bible reading time in. It’s the truth: sometimes I choose sleep over Jesus.

When the Nebraska skies are calm, however, I do usually begin my day with at least a few minutes of Scripture reading. If I don’t sit down with my Bible first thing in the morning, it won’t happen at all. I know this because I’m a morning person, and that little bit of personal knowledge helps me maintain my spiritual habits.

The Four Tendencies* and Scripture Reading

I’m not going to write about how or why I read the Bible (I wrote about that here, if you’re interested). Instead, I want to talk about how understanding your Tendency (Upholder, Obliger, Questioner, or Rebel) and your distinctions (lark vs. owl; familiarity lover versus novelty lover; marathoner versus sprinter versus procrastinator) can help you stick to the spiritual habit of daily (or near-daily) Scripture reading.

Case in point: As I wrote about here, I’m an Upholder,which means I’m self-directed and usually work pretty diligently at achieving my goals on my own, once I identify them. Therefore, I read the Bible at my own pace, and it’s typically a solitary endeavor.

However, if you are an Obliger — which means you typically respond readily to outer expectations but struggle to meet inner expectations — the way I read the Bible won’t necessarily work well for you. Because Obligers are motivated by external accountability, a Bible study group that meets regularly might help you stay on task. Checking in with your group once a week to read and study Scripture together (or even enrolling in an online Bible study group like Women’s Bible Cafe or She Reads Truth) might offer you the accountability you need.

Likewise, a daily Bible reading plan might offer the Obliger the perfect mix of accountability and structure. Online resources like Bible Gateway offer a variety of plans. You simply subscribe to the plan that suits you best, and you’ll receive the appropriate verses in your email in-box each day.

My friend Deidra gets a daily Bible verse delivered to her phone, which she reads first thing in the morning (there are several free versions like this one for Android and this one for iphone available for download).

Or, if like me, you prefer to hold the Book in your hands, there are dozens of hardcover and paperback options like this one, in various translations available online and in bookstores.

Now, a word of advice for Questioners. If you’re a Questioner, you like to do your research and explore all your options before making a decision, BUT, you’re also prone to analysis paralysis. Knowing that, you might want to avoid the online Bible study plans (Too many options! Overwhelming!) and simply visit Barnes and Noble or your local independent bookstore, where you can page through a more limited selection of options. Or better yet, ask your best friend, your pastor or your women’s ministry leader for suggestions – that way you can “do your homework,” but avoid option overload.

Know Your Personality Distinctions to Read the Bible Better

As I mentioned earlier, I’m also a familiarity lover, which means once I find something that works for me, I rarely stray from it. I love the New Living Translation, and I prefer my small, paperback Bible, so I can snuggle into the couch and comfortably hold my coffee in one hand and the Bible in the other. I’ve been reading the Bible this way for about five or six years now.

You, however, might be a novelty lover, which means you’ll likely have to switch up your routine every now and then to stay committed. That might mean trying a new translation or interpretation, like The Message (which offers a contemporary paraphrase of Scripture); a Bible with accompanying devotions; or even something non-traditional, like The Book of Common Prayer or The Divine Hours (I read The Divine Hours: Prayers for Springtime all through Lent and found the change refreshing and inspiring).

Likewise, if you’re a Sprinter, a “Read the Bible in 90 Days” plan might appeal to you, whereas if you’re more of a Marathoner and prefer to divide up big projects into manageable bites, a “Read the Bible in 365 Days” plan is probably a better bet. And if you’re a Procrastinator, you might want to consider enrolling in an actual in-person Bible study group or an online group, so your peeps will help keep you on task.

Knowing whether you’re a lark or a night owl is important too. If I tried to read the Bible before bed, I’d be asleep in 14 seconds flat. But if you’re a night owl, you’re just hitting your stride when my head is hitting the pillow. Don’t force yourself to have “Morning Quiet Time” just because that’s the “Christiany” thing to do. Work with your personality, not against it.

Too often we are critical of ourselves for struggling to stick to a steady routine of Scripture reading, when in fact, it’s really just a matter of identifying our Tendency and personality distinctions and then finding the approach that fits best with who we are.

So tell me, do you have a favorite way to read the Bible?

Want to figure out which Tendency you are? Take this quiz. 

For more information about Gretchen Rubin’s personality Distinctions, read this. 

If you missed the first three posts in my Spiritual Habits series, you can catch up here:

How Our Habits Can Impact Our Spirituality {introduction}

The Spiritual Habit of Digging Dandelions

The Spiritual Habit of Staying in Place

*Based on Gretchen Rubin’s book Better Than Before: What I Learned about Making and Breaking Habits.

The Spiritual Habit of Staying in Place

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Back when we were dating, Brad entrusted me with his favorite plant, a lush fichus tree named Herman (in honor of Herman Melville, because of course) before he left town for a while.

I moved Herm into my house, positioned him in a sunny spot next to the sliding glass doors and then watched as he began to drop leaves at an alarming rate. I moved him to a south-facing window. More leaves littered the carpet. I watered Herman, fed him plant food, repositioned him yet again in a less chilly spot. Still he dropped leaves.

A week after Brad left, I called him to report that I’d killed Herman in a record-setting seven days flat.

Turns out, fichus trees require stability to thrive — a lesson we would be wise to apply to ourselves as well.

When they first join the order, Benedictine monks and nuns take a vow of stability. “The vow of stability affirms sameness,” says author and Episcopal priest Elizabeth Canham, “a willingness to attend to the present moment, to the reality of this place, these people, as God’s gift to me and the setting where I live out my discipleship.”

To “affirm sameness” is radically counter-cultural in our society. We are conditioned, even encouraged, to drop one thing and move onto the next. Marriage grown stale? Divorce. Bored on the job? Update the resume. Shoes scuffed? Buy a new pair. Acquaintance irritate us on Facebook? Unfriend. We abandon with ease, enticed by the fresh and new.

We are also expected to be as productive as possible, to hustle, push ourselves to the max, and multitask like a boss. The person who resists the rat race is an anomaly and is often seen as weak, an aberration. We wonder what happened to their ambition. A lot of us – dare I say most of us — equate stability with failure, or, at the very least, stagnance.

Yet it’s clear this relentless pursuit of the perfect place, the perfect situation, the perfect job, and the perfect person often leads to the Herman the Fichus phenomenon. We feel restless, uprooted and displaced. We wither rather than thrive. Like Herm the Fichus, we begin to lose pieces of ourselves. We begin fall apart.

Stability as a spiritual habit or discipline can be practiced on both the macro and micro level. For me, practicing stability in the big picture of my life means practicing contentment in my career, my parenting, my marriage, my home and my place.

This does not come naturally to my Type A, driven personality, especially when it comes to my work. I’ve long worn productivity, achievement and success as badges of honor, so seeking contentment and self-worth in the present status quo takes intentionality.

Likewise, on a micro level, practicing the habit of stability means making a concerted effort to stay in one place and do nothing, if only for a few minutes at a time.

Last November I began the practice of sitting on a park bench for five minutes during my daily afternoon dog walks, and I’ve kept up the routine pretty regularly. Josie automatically veers off the path and toward our bench now and patiently waits while I listen to the birds and gaze at the trees. It’s become a habit for both of us, and it’s good for me to simply stay in one place, to let my thoughts settle into a low simmer.

As it turned out, much the same was true for Herm the Fichus: he simply needed to stay in one place. I finally stopped moving him around the house and let him be, convinced he was dead but too guilty to dump him into the trash bin. A few weeks passed, and that’s when I began to notice tiny buds sprouting on bare branches. Leaf by delicate leaf, Herm began to thrive, unfurling and blossoming into a lush, verdant canopy. Left in one spot, he grew strong and whole once again.

A Word about Personality and Habits

In addition to identifying the Four Tendencies, Gretchen Rubin (author of Better Than Before) also identifies several personality aspects (she calls them distinctions) and how they relate to habit formation. For example, she asks whether the reader is a familiarity lover or a novelty lover, a lark or a night owl, an underbuyer or an overbuyer, a marathoner, sprinter or procrastinator, etc.. Identifying which end of the spectrum you lean toward can help you discern which spiritual habits might fit best for you.

Case in point: I am a familiarity lover. I’ve eaten the exact same snack at the exact same time pretty much every day for the last four years. New experiences make me uncomfortable. I’m not adventurous, and my favorite place in the world is my own backyard. So, given what I know about myself, it makes sense that I might gravitate toward the spiritual habit of stability – I’m inclined toward stability anyway. Sitting on the same bench at the same place on my walking route at the same time every day is not a huge stretch for me. It was relatively easy to integrate that new spiritual habit into my everyday routine.

BUT, if you’re a novelty lover — if you gravitate toward new experiences — the thought of sitting on the same bench in the same park at the same time every day might sound like your idea of a ticket straight to crazy town. For novelty lovers, the spiritual habit of stability might be more challenging. Not impossible, but probably more challenging.

Read more about Rubin’s personality distinctions here.

If you missed the first two posts in my Spiritual Habits series you can catch up here:

How Our Habits Can Impact Our Spirituality {introduction}

The Spiritual Discipline of Digging Dandelions

Next week: The Spiritual Habit of Scripture Reading