Busyness

At this point, it’s old news that we’re too busy. Our schedules have become so saturated by our responsibilities, commitments, expectations, and plans that we simply don’t have time for anything else. There are only 24 hours in each day, and we fill every single one of them to the brim.

This overcommitment isn’t without consequence. Sleep deprivation is on the rise. (Though if you’re looking for a sound investment, melatonin sales are through the roof.) Stress and anxiety are now baseline parts of life rather than sporadic occurrences. And trying to plan any sort of meaningful time with loved ones is a chore that will drive one to their wits’ end.

Never is our culture’s obsession with being busy more apparent than during the holiday season. We’re rushing from one party to another, stopping in-between to pick up gifts for every person we’ve ever met, trying desperately not to miss a single event or program. From Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day, life is an absolute blur. If you blink, you’ll miss it completely. But again, I’m not telling you anything new.

I’m beginning to give up on the fight against busyness, at least during this time of year. I do my best, but even my time management skills are no match for the constant societal pressure I feel to be constantly go-go-going. Besides, there are too many people I want to see and too many things I want to do. The temptation to never ever stop is real, and I’m not always the best at fighting it.

But not all is lost. I’ve learned that even if I can’t stop being busy all the time, I can at least be selective about what I’m busy doing. If I’m going to be constantly doing things, then they better be the things that matter to me the most. Otherwise, what’s the point in being busy at all?

Prioritization is a difficult skill to learn, but I’m starting to think it’s the key to navigating this tireless world we live in. If we’re going to make our lives meaningful in the midst of all of the stress, noise, and busyness, then we have to know what matters to us, and we have to put those things first. This takes practice. It takes focus. It takes discipline. But it’s doable, and it’s worth it.

It will look different for different people. For some, it may mean literally making an ordered list of the people and things that matter most and then referring to that list when deciding what to commit to. For me, it’s more about learning to say no to the things that aren’t important enough. That may sound cold, but the truth is that if we simply say yes to everything, there eventually won’t be enough room for it all. And if we’re not careful, the most important things may fall through the cracks.

So yes, I’m extremely busy this time of year, just as I’m sure you are. I haven’t figured out how not to be busy yet, but if I do, I promise to write an article about it. In the meantime, I’m practicing discernment in how I choose to be busy in hopes that I can make my busyness mean something. I’d encourage you to do the same so that we can all make this time of year something special for ourselves and those we love.

Contributing

Life is a series of group projects. We learn this early, starting when we’re in school. If you’re like me, you hated group work growing up and looked forward to one day graduating and being responsible only for yourself. Then you got into the job field and—surprise!—literally everything is group work.

We like to think of ourselves as independent creatures, but the truth is that nothing we do is truly a solo effort. Everything we accomplish requires other people on some level. Whether it’s offering advice or support, teaching us something we didn’t already know, or finishing part of a project that we’re unable or too busy to do, we’re constantly collaborating with others in order to achieve our collective and individual goals.

I’m embarrassed to admit that it’s taken me 26 years to realize this, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t accomplish anything worth doing in this life on my own. I need other people in order to make an impact on the world. And you do, too. Because life is a team sport, and we’re going to have to work together to succeed.

But here’s my biggest problem with group work: I never know if I’m doing enough. I don’t see myself as particularly skilled or charismatic or intelligent, and so I often feel like I’m not bringing anything to the table when I‘m working with talented, smart people. I’m a part of the group, sure, but I don’t feel like I’m adding anything of value.

This can lead to feelings of guilt and frustration. I ask myself, “Why am I here? I have nothing to offer.” And when the project’s done and others say nice things about it, I feel wrong taking any sort of credit, so I downplay my involvement. It’s not that I don’t want to be a team player. I just never feel like I’m contributing enough to deserve to be a part.

I used to think this was unique, that I was the only one who struggled with these feelings of inadequacy. But the more people I work with, the more I hear the same thoughts echoed back in the voices of others. It’s almost like we’ve each been programmed to believe that we aren’t good enough, that we’re not doing enough, that we aren’t enough. We carry those insecurities with us when we work with others, and they hold us back.

Because when we feel like we don’t have anything to offer, we don’t offer anything. We don’t step up when the need arises. We don’t take the lead, even when we’re qualified. We stifle our ideas that could turn out to be really helpful innovations. We hold ourselves back, which just leads to even stronger feelings that we aren’t doing enough, and it turns into a vicious cycle.

Here’s the truth, though: You do have a lot to offer. And if you’re worried about doing enough, that means your heart is in the right place. You just have to get past your insecurities and buy in to what the group is doing.

Studies show that the groups who have the most success are the groups with the most diversity. This means that simply by being a part of a group, you are bringing knowledge, experience, and insight that makes the group better. You do so with nothing more than your presence. And the more you give yourself over the group and its vision, the better you make it.

Each of us has been blessed with God-given gifts, talents, interests, and more that others don’t have. We’ve been given these things for a purpose, and that purpose is to make the world a better place. When we allow our insecurities and frustrations to hold us back from using our gifts, we’re depriving the world of something great, and we aren’t living up to our callings.

I’ve found that once I let go of my feelings of inadequacy and really start to believe in something, I can’t help but get swept away in it. I can’t help but dream and come up with ideas for how to make a project better. I can’t hold back the joy I feel when things progress and when the work is finally complete. When I lean in and exercise the gifts God has given me, I become my best self, and everyone is better for it.

You have something to offer. You are making your groups better simply by being a part of them, and you have so much to contribute. So don’t hold yourself back. Let go of the insecurities, trust yourself, lean on your partners, and see how far you can go. I know it works because I’ve been learning how to do it, too, and I can assure you that it’s well worth it.

Thanks for reading, friends! I’ll see you next week.

The Blame Game

The human brain is a funny thing. And one of its greatest quirks is that it will do anything—absolutely anything—to force a situation to make sense. People are meaning-makers. We crave understanding. And no matter what scenario we find ourselves in, we want to understand the “Why?” behind it and how it fits into our preconceived notion of how the world works.

This is why when things go wrong, we immediately start searching for a culprit. We want something or someone to blame for the problems we’re facing. Even when a situation is completely out of human control, we still rack our brains searching for ways the fault must lie with someone. Our brains simply aren’t satisfied until we can form an explanation and pin the blame somewhere.

I was recently reminded of my own susceptibility to this bias when facing an issue at my job. As I work with technology, I spend a lot of my time working out problems both small and large, and this one was a doozy. After frantically trying everything I knew to solve the problem and coming to the conclusion that it was bigger than I could handle on my own, I suddenly heard a voice. Not a heavenly voice, mind you. It was my internal voice, speaking as loudly and persistently as I’ve ever heard it before. And what it said was this:

”This is your fault.”

I’ve heard that statement from my inner voice a million times before, and every single time, I believe it. If only I’d done something differently, I wouldn’t be in this mess. If I were smarter or better at what I was doing, I wouldn’t have found myself here. If I weren’t such a failure, this wouldn’t have happened. And on and on.

It doesn’t matter if the situation is actually my fault or not. It doesn’t matter if the problem was caused by someone else or something outside my control or even pure circumstance. My brain can find a way to make anything my fault because it has to find someone to blame. Why not me?

Often, we think that we’re a lot more in control of situations than we really are. And often, we’re a lot more willing to offer grace and the benefit of the doubt to others than we are to ourselves. All this, combined with our need to understand our surroundings, can result in a vicious cycle of self-blame where we come to the conclusion that everything is our fault and tear ourselves down for it.

But, as I often have to remind myself, there’s no need for it to be this way. Because more often than not, that voice is a lie. There are so many things that happen to us that are outside of our control, and it’s pointless to blame ourselves in those situations. And even if something is our fault, it’s much more productive to focus on solutions rather than what cause the problem in the first place. Sure, we should learn from our experiences, but constantly berating ourselves teaches us nothing. It’s useless. And we don’t have to do it.

You don’t have to listen to that inner voice that tells you it’s all your fault. You don’t have to believe it when it says you aren’t good enough. You don’t have to put up with the self-berating and abuse.

What if, instead, we granted ourselves the same grace we share with others? What if we gave ourselves the benefit of the doubt? What if instead of saying, “This is your fault,” we told ourselves, “I forgive you even if you are to blame”? How much more could we accomplish? How much healthier and happier and more fulfilled could we be?

Right now, I’m working hard to learn how to show myself grace even when my inner voice says I don’t deserve it. To let myself off the hook for things that aren’t my fault and to forgive myself for the things that are. If you could use a little more of that, I’d encourage you to practice it today. You never know how far a little (self-)forgiveness can go.

Countdown to Christmas

I don’t know a lot about Advent. The churches I grew up in never celebrated it. Until I got to seminary, my only exposure to the season was through Advent calendars, which dispensed little gifts each day leading up to Christmas. They would count down the days, each one getting a little bit closer to the big one. To me, it was all about getting through the calendar as quickly as possible so that I could get to the real gifts. Advent was nothing more than something to rush through on the way to Christmas.

Now, I know that Advent is really the opposite of that.

The season we’re about to enter is not about rushing. Rather, it’s about anticipation. The difference there may be subtle, but it’s important. When we’re looking forward to something, we can take one of two paths: We can barrel towards it as quickly possible, skipping everything in between. Or, we can wait patiently for it, savoring the excitement that comes with anticipating something wonderful.

Practicing anticipation takes focus. This season offers so many distractions, from the sales to the parades to the elaborate decorations to the parties and everything in between. And I’m not saying that any of those things are bad. They’re all meant to celebrate something very good: the birth of Christ. But they are not the thing itself, and it’s important to remember that fact. In the midst of all of the fanfare, it’s much too easy to forget what it’s all about, and that’s where anticipation comes in.

It also takes patience. Just as Mary waited lovingly for her baby to be born, just as the angels stood by with bated breath to sing their song of praise, just as creation itself sat still and silent before the entry of the eternal God into its earthly midst, so we wait for the day that we can participate in their celebration. The birth of Christ is a cause for great joy, and it is even more so once we’ve participated in the anticipation of those who came before us.

I’m still learning what it means to practice anticipation in the season of Advent. The church offers many helpful resources and guides that I hope to dive into in time. But no matter what, I’m choosing to commit myself to practicing anticipation this season as I look forward to celebrating Christ’s birth on December 25.

Maybe you’d like a little more anticipation in this season, too. It doesn’t mean we have to give up the songs, movies, gifts, and treats. (I’m certainly not.) But it does mean that we approach these things in a different way. Rather than rushing through to Christmas or trying to make it last a month or more, why don’t we simply savor the anticipation and look forward to Christ’s arrival together?

The Gifts of Worrying

I’m a worrier. Anyone who knows me know that about me. It’s my natural inclination to dwell on the “What if?” questions and the long list of things that could potentially go wrong in any situation. It’s a part of who I am.

In some ways, this is a blessing. It forces me to think things through a little more carefully, to avoid pitfalls, and to go about my life in a more safe and efficient way. There is a healthy way to use this aspect of my personality.

But sometimes, I let my worry get the best of me. When I don’t keep my tendency towards worrying in check, it can take over. And when it does, it brings me a few… well, let’s call them “gifts.”

Stress

I like to compare my worried self to a big ball of stress. When you’re nearby, you can just feel the anxiety radiating off of me. I’m undergoing inner turmoil, and it just consumes me. The littlest hiccups become causes for despair. I can’t focus on anything because my mind is completely full of the long list of things that are going wrong or that could go wrong, and I am very unpleasant to be around. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Frustration

Usually, my worry stems in one way or another from my preconceived plans going awry: the schedule is off or someone has a different idea than I do or I have no control at all over what’s happening. And in my mind, a deviation from my plans is an objective evil. I lose all patience because I’m dissatisfied and just want things to go my way. I start to form grudges against people who I would normally give the benefit of the doubt and probably haven’t actually wronged me anyway, and my internal dialogue becomes downright mean. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Ineffectiveness

Too much inward focus leaves little room for outward effectiveness. When I’m worried, I get so in my head that I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing, much less perform at my best. Nothing stifles my creativity or efficiency more than worry. In an attempt to get things back on track, I become counterproductive and usually end up creating even more work for myself. I do not perform well under the pressure I put myself under. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Fatigue

If you struggle with worry the way I do, you understand the pure exhaustion that comes with it. After spending every ounce of energy I have on being stressed, getting frustrated, and futilely working to make things the way I want them to be, I completely run out of energy. This happens much more quickly than it would if I were simply focused on the task at hand. But since I’m pouring all of my energy into my own internal dialogue, I have little—if any—left for things outside myself. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Relief

At some point, though, worry will dissipate. Whether things go the way I think they should or not, I eventually get through whatever it is that’s causing me to fret. And on the other side, I always discover that my situation is so much better than I imagined it would be. Many of the things I feared in the meantime never came about, and the reality I’m faced with is actually quite pleasant, even though it isn’t exactly what I had planned. When worry goes away, I am left feeling ten pounds lighter. I can breathe much more easily. And life seems so much brighter. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Though the gift of relief might sound appealing, it’s really an inferior consolation prize. When I go down the route of worry, I have to endure the stress, frustration, ineffectiveness, and fatigue in order to get to the relief and the happy ending that accompany it. That’s a lot to go through.

What if, instead, I chose a different path? Rather than pushing so hard against the circumstances surrounding me, what if I simply accepted them? Worked within them? Maybe even learned to appreciate the good things about them? Maybe then, I wouldn’t have to go through so much just to get to the good part afterwards. Maybe then, I could enjoy the journey rather than suffer through it just to get to the end. Maybe that would be a better gift than the ones worry offers me.

If you’re like me, worry is a constant temptation, a borderline addiction, a vicious cycle. But as I have to remind myself often, there is a better way. We can choose to become less worrisome and more accepting of our circumstances. Because the gifts of worry are not gifts at all. The real gift is this life we’ve been given and the ability to we have to enjoy it with those we care about. Worriers, we would do well to do a little more of that and a little less of the worrying we’ve become accustomed to.