What Matters Most
musings on the mundane and magnificent from a Christian perspective
Fall is upon us, and I, for one, am excited! I’m ready to do some baking, break out my fall candles, and cheer on my college football team this weekend. School is back in session and routines are resuming. Everything is gearing up for a busy, productive season.
And that is a good thing. Summer brought some much-needed down time, so we can handle things picking back up. As long as we go about it with the right perspective, as long as we remember one thing.
The Bible tells of a time when Jesus went to visit two of his friends, Mary and Martha. Martha busied herself with preparing food and serving her guests, while her sister, Mary, sat with Jesus and hung on His every word. Martha complained to Jesus that Mary had left her with all the work to do.
Jesus replied, “Martha, Martha, … you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41, 42 NIV
I can be like Martha more than I care to admit. Why is it so easy to become so distracted? Why does busyness so quickly consume us? Why is the focus on the “one thing” so hard to maintain?
We are busy people. We have jobs, we have families, we have bills. We have people whose lives we want to invest in and people who depend on us. We have commitments, deadlines, and households to manage. And we want to be faithful in all these things. We genuinely want to do a good job with all that’s on our plate.
I think God knew what the pace of life would be in our day. He knew we’d have full schedules and good intentions. That’s why He told us beforehand to remember the one thing. Which is what, exactly?
I think the one thing Jesus was referring to was Himself. Mary was close by Jesus, sitting at his feet in the posture of a disciple, listening to Him. The one thing is relationship with Jesus; it’s maintaining intimate connection with Him, despite all that’s happening around you.
An important aspect of this is guarding. If the one thing is the main thing, then we must hold on to it. We must actively work to maintain it. The Bible exhorts us in Proverbs 4:23 (NET), “Guard your heart with all vigilance, for from it are the sources of life.” So, we guard our hearts when emotions swell, when circumstances swirl out of control, when stress surges. We guard against weariness, against distractions, against anything that sucks the life out of us. We guard our time, our priorities, our energy. And we fervently guard against distractions from the one thing.
We guard our lives by maintaining a laser-like focus on God, His Word, and His presence in our daily lives. We stay connected to Jesus, let His strength energize us, and let that carry us through our busy days. And we stay closely connected to other believers who can help us as we live our lives in pursuit of this one thing.
What does this look like in our lives practically?
- Spend time with God daily in His Word and in prayer. This is our lifeline.
- Share your life with other trusted believers and be accountable to them. Join a small group. Share prayer requests. Share your heart.
- Take an overview of your schedule and make sure it reflects what’s important to you. If you need to drop something from your schedule, do it, and don’t feel guilty.
- Take breaks when you need to. Take care of yourself. Sleep, exercise, and quality food go a long way.
- Make time for people. Phone calls, texts, and definitely face to face time – whether that’s long lunches where you can really catch up or simply running errands together. Take care of others. And let them take care of you.
This certainly isn’t an exhaustive list, and it’s nothing we haven’t heard before. But hopefully it’s a timely reminder as we enter the busy fall season:
We can be busy without letting busyness consume us. We can balance multiple competing demands without succumbing to stress. We can conquer our to-do list without growing weary.
We just need to remember one thing.
Yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary.
Isaiah 40:31 NASB
I’m standing in the back of a cemetery surrounded by a sea of grey stone. I breathe in the English air and simply stand there, content not to be cognizant of the time or the notifications on my phone. Not far from me, suburban traffic whizzes by, but I take no notice. I’m completely engrossed by what’s in front of me: a large headstone adorned with trinkets left by visitors like me.
The names listed tell who is buried here, but it’s two other names that are most striking. “Beren” and “Luthien” are written underneath the names of J. R. R. Tolkien and his wife, Edith. I am deep in Wolvercote Cemetery in Oxford, England, at my favorite author’s grave. And there is nowhere in the world I’d rather be right now.
Since that trip across the pond over a decade ago, my love for Tolkien’s works has not waned. The fictional world he created is easy to get lost in. The beauty of both his prose and poems is enchanting. Each word perfectly crafted, each tale rich and ripe. He writes about beautiful things in the most beautiful way.
I love his writing. And I love the fact that it marks his final resting place. There’s something so powerful in the fact that, of all he wrote over his whole life, it all boils down to two names on a grave: Beren, a mortal man mighty in the lineage of the kings of men, and Luthien, an immortal elf princess and the most beautiful creature ever to walk Middle-earth. The love they shared overthrew a tyrant and was more valuable than the Silmarils – the jewels they recovered from his hand.
As I understand it, the heart of all of Tolkien’s writing is The Silmarillion. He set out to write a grand mythology and dedicate it to England, constantly revising it and adding to it over the course of his life. And the heart of The Silmarillion is the tale of Beren and Luthien. He identified the character of Luthien with his wife Edith, with her dark hair, singing and dancing as they wandered in the woods together. So, at the root of all his writing – all the songs and tales, all the adventures – at the center of it all is love.
And the proof of this is carved in a grey granite slab – a testament for generations to come of love that defied the shadow.
Conquering love, defiant hope, and people and places worth protecting. These themes fill both The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings, the latter being the subject of a new TV series on Amazon. The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power is based on the book and the delightful material in the appendices but takes place in an earlier age in the chronology of Middle-earth. Perhaps the show will be the making of new Tolkien fans, sending them to the book for the first time.
It can be daunting to crack open The Lord of the Rings as a newbie. It’s a wonderful read – but not a short one. So, to sum it up, what is the meaning of this voluminous work? What’s it all about?
In a word – home. To me, that is what the book is all about. Home and the people you love who live there.
And that is a book well worth reading, whether in your favorite armchair or on a plane headed overseas, like me on that trip to England. I love traveling, and I loved that trip years ago. Walking in Tolkien’s footsteps around Oxford was worth the trek, more than worth it. But also – having tea with my mom in Harrod’s, going to the theater, walking in Jane Austen’s footsteps in Bath. And, perhaps most of all, beholding the warm, clean beauty of the English countryside, the real-life Shire.
I love seeing new places, learning new things, and making memories that last long after you’ve unpacked. I think it’s important to have a global perspective. We need to remember that we are not alone in the world, that our problems are not the only problems on the planet, that we have a shared humanity – even with those who don’t look like us or think like us.
Travel, whether to destinations near or far, has much to love about it. But what I love most is coming home. Having a place to come home to – and people who embrace you when you get there. It’s the view that beats any scenic vista: framed photographs on the mantle, pets waiting for you on the couch, and people – your people.
Like the hobbit Bilbo said, the road goes on. See where it leads. Wander through woods and wilderness. Join the company in The Prancing Pony or wherever you find yourself. Talk to those from distant lands and share tales. See the mountains. See the sights. See it all. And then head home – the one corner in all the world you call your own, to the people you’d risk everything for to protect.
Go there and back again.
It all started with a star. I was reading my favorite book by my favorite author, and I got “stuck.”
This often happens when I’m reading the works of the late J. R. R. Tolkien, an inventor of languages, a professor at Oxford University, a family man, a devout Christian, and author, most notably of works set in the fictional world he created called Middle-earth.
A world I was engrossed in when I encountered the star. And then one thing led to another: the name of a constellation in the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring, which led to the original reference in The Silmarillion, which led to the index, which led to looking up more references…
Reading one line in one book led to five books – and many precious minutes spent in Middle-earth.
It’s easy for me to get lost in the world Tolkien created. It’s breathtakingly beautiful – beautiful places and epic events described in the most profound way. It’s not just what he says, but how he says it. It’s writing that makes you want to keep reading.
In other words, you don’t just read Middle-earth, you experience it. For me, there is no other way. Once I dip my toe in the water, I want to wade in and let the tide carry me where it will. I don’t just read Tolkien, I research it. I re-read it. I add to my understanding of this world, layer upon layer. And I study the man behind the words – his background, the places in England he knew and loved, and his own words about his works.
As a result, the amount of books in my home with the name Tolkien on the spine is quite large. And after my birthday a couple of years ago, that number increased by two. My family gave me a first-edition UK edition of The Silmarillion from 1977 and The Worlds of JRR Tolkien, by John Garth. One published the year I was born and one published two years ago. The works of Tolkien span my life.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love reading anything by and about Tolkien, even his lesser-known works that have nothing to do with Middle-Earth. His imaginary world is sometimes as real to me as our own:
I have heard the singing of the Elves as I gaze down into the valley of Imladris. I‘ve sat in the shade of a mallorn tree in Lothlorien. I’ve seen the snow atop the Misty Mountains. I‘ve savored the taste of strawberries and cream in the Shire. I’ve seen the lights in the party tree. I see it all vividly – in my mind’s eye, anyway.
Sadly, I can’t seem to find Gondor on Google maps. I can’t pop down to the local travel agency and book a trip to Hobbiton. The Misty Mountains remain a mystery. But I can visit these places any time I want to simply by opening a book, which is why I have so many of them. Tolkien’s works speak to me in a way no other work of fiction does.
And now, with the upcoming TV series on Amazon, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, his works will be made available to a whole new audience. Since I first discovered Middle-earth on screen, not on the page, the idea of new fans discovering this world is immensely exciting. While I’ve been an avid reader my whole life, I somehow missed Tolkien. I don’t even remember hearing about his books in school except for The Hobbit.
My introduction to Tolkien came from the crazy-talented Peter Jackson, a visionary of a filmmaker from New Zealand. His Oscar-winning movies adapted The Lord of the Rings from page to screen and sucked me in. So, after the third movie in the trilogy came out, I turned to the books, to the source of the beautiful epic I had just watched unfold on screen. And then one Tolkien book led to another which led to his authorized biography which led to commentaries about his work…
If you are new to Middle-earth, welcome. Or as Tolkien’s characters say, well met. You may not have understood any of the references in this post, but thanks for reading anyway! If you discover this magical place on screen, like I did, let me encourage you to also consider the books. Seeing Middle-earth on screen is wonderful, but you’re seeing an adaptation of it, one creative team’s interpretation of the source material. And while I’m thankful there are those who chose to tackle this, and as much as I love the movies, the books are better. The book is always better (my mantra in life).
That being said, I hope we like the new Amazon series, which is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings. I hope it’s a faithful adaptation of Tolkien’s work. So far, there have been mixed reviews from the Tolkien fanbase. Some have raised questions as to how far they’ve strayed from the original work in terms of timeline and plot points. We shall see.
But if what you see on Amazon piques your interest, maybe it will lead you to the books. And don’t worry, you don’t have to read them as I do, with highlighters and reference material at the ready. You can read them without stopping to ask questions or look things up and still get the gist.
However, there is a treasure trove of information in the back of the books: appendices, pronunciation guides, charts, and maps. It may be an overwhelming amount of information for a new reader, but it’s meant to be a helpful guide. I think it can only serve to enhance your reading if you let it. But it’s up to you how you choose to read. You can dig as deeply as you want.
And I hope you like what you find.
One night last week, as I was getting ready for bed, I took off my makeup, washed my face, and just stood there, reflecting on the image I saw, reflecting on life.
I’ll be honest – I didn’t like everything I saw. My eyelids were puffy from crying, my pores were huge, and the dark circles under my eyes seem to be getting darker daily. I looked…. exhausted.
As I stared at myself, it struck me that, though my face may show signs of wear and tear, it also shows signs of a life lived.
My laugh lines that grow more visible each year mean I’m growing older, but they also mean my life has been full of laughter. You can read the fatigue on my face, but I’m grateful that I have a family of my own to expend my energy on. My eyelids are swollen from crying, but I have a God who sees my tears, who sees into my heart, and heals me. (Psalm 56:8 MSG – “You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book.”)
As I grow older, He remains the same. He is with me, year after year, developing me into the woman He made me to be. God’s Word says our faces “show the bright glory of the Lord, as the Lord’s Spirit makes us more and more like our glorious Lord.” (2 Corinthians 3:18 CEV)
As the years roll on and the wrinkles set in, I hope to live my life in such a way that His glory is what’s written all over my face.
These are the thoughts in my mind as I process my birthday today. If I live until I’m 90, then I’m exactly halfway through life. I’m middle-aged.
And I’m in the middle of God’s will for me. I’m in the middle of His love, surrounded by His faithfulness. My life doesn’t look like I thought it would at this age, but it’s a life I rejoice to live every day.
I trust Him with all the paths my life could have taken and with all that’s to come. And with today. He redeems my past and secures my future. He is with me, making life worth living, year after year. And that is why I celebrate today, wrinkles and all.
“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (Jesus speaking)
John 10:10 NASB
Ah, summer. Long, leisurely days under blue skies. This is the time we look forward to all year, the season around which the others hinge.
Summer marks a pause, a lightening of schedules, a welcome respite in the middle of a busy year. Summer’s slower pace allows for lengthier conversations, for books to be read that have been shelved too long, for freedom to chase hobbies and fireflies. Who doesn’t love summer?
But I have a confession to make – summer is not my favorite season. That title belongs squarely to spring. Spring – with all its color and promise – has always been my favorite. Everything looks new and feels fresh after the long, cold, quiet winter. Spring brings new life – and hope. It resonates with my soul.
I am not, however, sad to see spring go. I know that summer follows. And summer is not without its own appeal. Summer is multifaceted. As it progresses, it reveals itself in new ways – all of them glorious.
Early summer is all excitement and anticipation. The making of plans, the gearing up for the fun ahead, the enjoyment of newfound free time. Booking travel, shopping for swimsuits and flip flops, grabbing a copy of this year’s best beach read. Settling into the season’s new routine – a wonderfully carefree one.
The middle of summer is busy in the best way. It’s best experienced on the back of a jet ski, under aquamarine water, or walking along a shore littered with shells, feeling the sea wind on your skin, breathing salty air. The heart of summer is filled with beach bags and suntan lines, with road trips and backyard barbeques. It’s for family reunions and catching up with dear friends.
It’s needing a vacation from your vacation because it was so filled with fun that it left you exhausted – in a good way.
Summer means renewal – whether that’s found on a kayak deep in river territory, eyes open, alert to every turtle sunning, every bird singing, every drop of sunlight glistening on the water, or whether that’s found on a chaise lounge, still and silent, eyes closed, drinking in the jasmine-scented air and letting the heat melt away stress. Relaxation takes many forms, and the center of summer sees them all.
Late summer is a warm, contented peace. Late summer is a place you want to linger. It’s a link between the fun and frolicking of the season that’s ending and the hopeful anticipation of the new season on the horizon.
Late summer beckons to you to pause once more, breathe deeply, and enjoy the waning warmth of the season. Fall is ahead and with it new responsibilities and new possibilities, but it is not here yet.
Summer issues a final invitation to rest, one last call to renewal – draining the dregs of summer’s abundance. It’s an embrace of rejuvenation that will carry you into the latter part of the year. Summer’s last days are a gift.
The question of when summer actually ends is answered differently by different people. There is the official end of the season – when the autumn equinox occurs in late September, and the unofficial end of summer – when school starts in August (at least for those of us in the Southeast). Depending on which camp you find yourself in, the last days of summer could be late July/early August or a month later in September.
I fall somewhere in the middle. I don’t need the calendar’s permission to hang my fall wreath, but I just can’t think about pumpkin spice when it’s 90 degrees outside! For my part, I hold on to summer through August. Vacation may be over, but summer isn’t. Not yet. I have one more cobbler to bake, one more beach read to digest, one more day trip to the coast.
Then, around Labor Day, I’ll put up my white shorts and straw hats and take down my boots and scarves. I’ll begin thinking about stews and football and holiday plans. But not yet. It’s still summer, for a little while.
The end of summer isn’t sad. Our hearts are too full now to be sad. We rest in the memories we’ve made and look forward to what’s ahead. The end of summer is a quiet contentment; a raising of the glass to the setting sun, casting its golden glow on the season that’s ending, knowing it’s been a full one, a rich one; and savoring the last sips of summer.
I’m pretty sure if you looked up “creature of habit” in the dictionary, you’d find my picture, one where I’m sporting the same haircut I’ve had for the last twenty years. My keys always go in the exact same spot. I gravitate to the same few restaurants, and once there, I tend to order the same few things. My “usual” has never failed me.
So, I can understand how the Israelites must have felt when they found themselves in a position where being creatures of habit wasn’t an option. In the retelling in Deuteronomy chapter 8, we read of a time when they found themselves in a desert, surrounded by sand, with no food in sight. They had left captivity in Egypt in the most astounding and glorious way, but they had not yet arrived at the homeland God had promised them. They were en route to destiny, and they had gotten hungry along the way.
God had the solution for their hunger, but it was something new, something different. He tells them in Deuteronomy 8:3 that it’s something “which neither you nor your fathers had known.” And again in Deuteronomy 8:16, he describes it as “something your fathers had never known.”
What is this strange new thing? And why is it pointed out, not once, but twice that it’s something new?
Manna. A fine, flakey substance used to make bread. Scripture tells us it tasted like wafers with honey. And it was a new item on the menu.
The Israelites were on a new course, one that was leading them to their promised land. They had new hope in their hearts. They had new commandments to live by. And they had new food in their bowls. Everything they were encountering was new – except for their God.
They had to trust that their God remained the same – faithful and trustworthy – even when everything else around them was new. They couldn’t base their trust on what was familiar and comfortable. They had to enlarge their perspective and place their trust solely on God – not on routine, not on comfort, not on predictability.
They had to have new faith in a new season, to trust God regardless of the circumstances. And that trust had to lead them to obedience, to picking up the manna and eating it, even though it was foreign.
It was a test of faith, and they passed. By eating the manna day in and day out, they were acknowledging God as their provider. They were accepting what He gave them, event though it looked different from anything they’d seen before, even though it wasn’t what they expected.
Certainly, there are things in my life that look vastly different from everything I ever expected. The story God’s given me looks so different from what I always pictured. But like the Israelites, I need to trust Him anyway. I need to hold on to Him and just eat the manna when it comes, even if I don’t understand it, even if it looks different. I need to trust the Source.
I originally wrote this in the fall of 2016.
And I wouldn’t change a word.
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Last week, I had a check-up with my ob-gyn. Now that I’ve discussed pregnancy at length with my endocrinologist, it was his turn. Doing my best to keep a lid on my excitement and appear somewhat normal about this emotionally charged subject, I told him my plans to get pregnant.
I was not surprised by his response.
I’ve heard it before, read about it, and chewed on it with each passing year. Still, his words were no easier to digest just by being prepared to hear them. “Your fertility at 39 is not what it was at 29. It’s not what it was at 19, even.”
The excitement I had going into this appointment was dampened by this unfortunate reality. This is a truth I can’t ignore, can’t wish away. I must acknowledge what I’m working with: I’m a 39-year-old cancer survivor trying to get pregnant for the first time. At 39.
It is what it is. Wishing things were different won’t help me now.
The choice before me is this: to let the process of trying for a baby be overshadowed by fear or undergirded by faith. I choose faith. Even if I never get pregnant, I would rather try with hope in my heart and deal with disappointment than go through this process holding my breath, riddled with doubt, constantly waiting for bad news.
Yes, I acknowledge the difficulties ahead; I’m well aware of the statistics. But I choose not to spend emotional and mental energy on “what if.” I choose faith.
And that same faith will be waiting for me at the end of this road ready to carry me if this process doesn’t turn out the way I want it to.
I acknowledge my age, and I also acknowledge the greater truth that God’s purposes will stand. God is greater than a number, than my health, than any circumstance I face. The purposes and plans He has for me are a certainty nothing can hinder.
So, I’m not going to fear infertility. When I get pregnant, I’m not going to fear miscarriage. I’m not going to fear complications. I choose right now that fear will not have any part in this process. Come what may, I choose faith.
It’s never let me down before.
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That was five years ago. And just like I said, faith was waiting for me at the end of the road, a road that did not lead to a baby.
I did get pregnant – once – but the pregnancy didn’t last long enough for fear to have a chance to creep in. I was having a D & C just a few short weeks of getting a positive pregnancy test. And I wasn’t able to get pregnant again.
I’m infertile yet full of faith. I have faith that what needed to happen in my life has happened, that circumstances are what they need to be, even if unexpected. I have faith that if I was supposed to be a mom, I would be and that, for me, being a stepmom is enough.
Faith doesn’t mean you always get what you’re hoping for. It doesn’t mean that every prayer is answered.
What faith means is a calm, confident assurance that you will be okay – regardless of how life plays out. It’s not an abstract theory, it’s not an emotion that can come and go, it’s not a crutch just to help you process life’s difficulties.
Because the whole point of having faith is the object of our faith – God. We have faith in Him because He has proven Himself faithful in our lives and in the pages of Scripture. We trust Him because He is trustworthy. And because He never changes, the basis of our faith will never change. Our faith can grow stronger and stronger with each passing year, with each crisis we face.
A crisis in life doesn’t have to lead to a crisis of faith. When our faith is based on who God has revealed Himself to be – and not on us getting everything we want, having every prayer answered just the way we want it to – then our faith will be unshakable. And it will sustain us in all the times when things don’t go the way we want them to.
I know trying to get pregnant month after month, the indescribable pain of miscarriage, the startling reality of infertility are not easy to overcome. It can be hard to wrap your brain around it – and hard for your heart to move on – when your situation is the exact opposite of what you wanted.
But I’m here to tell you from my own experience that healing is possible. And though it may not be easy, there is a way forward. And it all starts with faith – in a faithful, loving God.
Ugh, this is my life now.
The thought ran through my mind as I fought back tears. I was a newlywed, riding in the car in my new town, unimpressed with my new surroundings, overwhelmed with drastic life changes. Even though I was glad to be married, I couldn’t help but miss the friends, the job, the church I had left behind – a culture that resonated with me, a city where I had put down roots. I was in a new chapter of my life – which was a good thing – but the scenery changed dramatically.
I liked the old view better.
That was ten years ago, and thankfully I’ve gotten used to my new surroundings. They’re not new anymore. Time has helped me adapt, but what helped the most was changing my thinking – reminding myself of the correct definition of life.
As a Christ follower, my life does not exist in my job, my relationships, my calendar, my responsibilities. My life isn’t just what I can see in front of me. My life comes from a higher Source. The rest – the daily stuff of life – is just circumstantial.
It can be easy to allow circumstances to consume us and morph into our identity. They are realities we deal with on a daily basis. They’re on our mind when we lay in bed at night, and they’re waiting for us the next morning. It’s all we think about when we think about us.
Single wanting to be married, married and wanting a baby, a health scare, a family crisis, what we see in the mirror, financial abundance or scarcity, a degree with letters after our name, our title at work, the title of “Mom” – these do not define us. They are opportunities to trust God and opportunities to serve others. They can give direction and meaning to our life, they can greatly affect our life, but they are not our life.
The number on the scale is not who I am. The number of followers I have on social media is not who I am. My unfulfilled goals and desires, my successes and struggles, others’ perceptions of me – these do not define me. They are not who I am.
Of course, that doesn’t mean we don’t have goals and work towards progress. The number on the scale doesn’t define me, sure, but I’m still working to lower that number to a healthier range. Not for looks, likes, or any reason other than wanting to steward the body God’s given me and to have energy to do all He’s called me to do.
It also doesn’t mean we simply coast and neglect to address the looming issues in life – the catastrophes and crises, the overwhelming issues we all deal with. When I had cancer, I met it head on. It was a focus of my prayers, my research, my mental capacity. It consumed much of my time.
Even though these things don’t define us, they are still a big deal. Huge! So, we tackle these issues from a standpoint of who we are in Christ. We filter our circumstances though the Word of God – who He is, what He’s done for us, and who He says we are.
As Christians, our identity is not in our circumstances but in the person of Jesus and the finished work of the cross. Because of His sacrificial death and resurrection, we can say-
- I am a new creation. (2 Corinthians 5:17)
- I have been given new life. (Galatians 2:20)
- I have been adopted into His family. (Ephesians 1:4, 5 and Romans 8:15-17)
- I am His. (Song of Solomon 2:16)
Cancer, money, marital status – these are not who I am. Fill in the blank in your own life. For me, infertility is not who I am. It is not my identity. It is something I deal with on a daily basis, and it has drastically affected my life, but it is not my life.
My life is not the sum total of my circumstances. My life is Christ. And that life could not be more loving, more exhilarating, or more fulfilling. It’s not perfect, but it’s a life I rejoice to live every day, regardless of the circumstances.
For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you will also appear with him in glory.
Colossians 3:3, 4 NIV