Change

If you know me at all, you know I'm a very opinionated person. If I like something, I LOVE something, and if I don't like it, I hate it.

Call it genetics. The running gag from my dad was that in the car, he'd either blast the A/C full blast or the heat full blast. And if the A/C got too cold and you asked him to turn it down he'd say, "You want heat?!?" and blast the heat.

I've taken a similar approach with my interests and opinions. And while sometimes that can be a good thing, sometimes it makes it really hard to grow and change. Sometimes it even makes it embarrassing.

You see, I've put myself in these boxes and announced to the world that this is who I am. I make these things a part of my identity. So when I try to change...I'm ashamed and worried I'll hear the "I told you so's." It can be easier just to not change than to try to redefine myself when I've been so outspoken about who I am.

Last year something happened that got me thinking about the reason I didn't want kids. I was dead set against having them. But when I really boiled down my desires, it came down to three factors. One of them wasn't a factor anymore, one of them I'd realized didn't have to be the case, and the third was just selfish. Bottom line, I realized I'm open to having kids. I didn't go into baby fever mode or start fretting over my biological clock. If I don't end up having kids, I'm okay with that, too. But I still had to change this identity I'd built as "someone who doesn't want kids." And that was really hard.

This year, I've begun eating a lot healthier. That's a bigger switch than the kids thing, because it goes back way farther. My college classmates would remember me as the girl who brought Swiss Cake Rolls to class for breakfast. My high school classmates would remember me as the girl who hoarded Cadbury Mini Eggs. (A day-after-Easter sale was the only time I ever cut class.) My middle school church friends might remember how I could never stop at just one Dunkin Donut in Sunday School. And my co-workers now know me for my love of Dunkin Donuts still.

And yes, I still love Dunkin Donuts. (Although the Colorado ones are sub-par.) But I'd built my identity up so much around being a donut person and never eating vegetables that I was pretty embarrassed about this shift.

I didn't set out to become healthier. There was a competition at work and you got points for eating veggies, fruits, and whole grains. I've been told I'm a bit competitive...and this contest really drove me. (Yes, my team won. And I checked to see if I got the most points individually of anyone in the company, and I did.)

I have really strong taste buds and a really strong gag reflex. Because of this, my food options are pretty limited. So I always ate junk food not because I didn't care about my health, but because I just didn't think there was enough I liked to be healthy. But as I strove to win this competition, I realized I could do it. I didn't have to force myself to gag down stuff that could hardly stay down. There was enough I liked that I could get the fruits and veggies I needed. And there were a few new things I tried that I liked.

The competition ended a while ago, but the change has lasted. All I needed was the push to see it was possible for me. And I've continued to find new things I like that are better choices for me. But it's hard for me when people make shocked comments about my food choices. I get it - I built up my own junk food reputation. I'm the girl who put Dunkin Donuts in her room safe at a work conference to make sure they didn't get stolen, and made sure everyone knew it.

Bottom line - I'm learning not to let my choices define me so much. Because I want to be flexible enough that God can stretch me and grow me.

One of my ah-ha's when I was confronted with the first shift, the kids issue, was reading Luke 5. Jesus calls his first disciples, who'd had a long night of fishing and caught nothing. He tells them to cast down their nets again, and they do, and catch a whole bunch of fish. I'd read it before, knew it well.

But verse 2 caught my attention this time. The fishermen were washing their nets. They'd packed it up, cleaned up, were about to head home. This wasn't like, they were just about to shore and they dropped the nets right where they were. (Which is kind of what I'd always pictured.) They'd ALREADY CLEANED THEIR NETS. And they didn't even know this Jesus guy. They had to go to a considerable amount of effort to change their plans, but they just did it. Can't say I'd be that flexible.

Now, maybe it stood out to me because I like things clean. Whatever the case, I was pretty impressed by these disciples taking their freshly cleaned nets and dropping back into the yucky water. And it made me realize that no matter how neat and tidy I've packaged up my identity, I need to be ready to shake things up when Jesus comes calling.

Talents

I've been reading Brave Enough to Follow by Stuart Briscoe. And God's timing for when I started reading it sure is funny.

Someone challenged me to consider why I'd found success at work, why God led me to be promoted to leadership at a young age of 27. And my answer, which I said as if I was joking but probably reflected my heart pretty accurately, was "I always thought it was because I was awesome."

And that was the night I picked up Brave Enough to Follow. And read quotes like these:

"We often fall under the misconception that for God to do great work through us, we need to have the makings of greatness...the reality is upside down from what we think it should be. We don't have to have the courage to lead; we just need to be brave enough to follow." 

"It seems the more powerless the leader, the more glory God receives."

"If God always chose the obvious leaders to do his work, people would take all the glory for themselves. But if we are clearly weak and flawed, yet we have a part in establishing his kingdom, we cannot boast about ourselves but must instead boast that we know the Lord. God does great things through the not-so-brave among us, so the world can see that the glory is his and his alone."

Thanks, God.

Turns out maybe he's brought me to where I am because I'm not that awesome.

I think I tend to rely fairly heavily on what I perceive as my talents. I forget that even these are gifts from God, and that I can best use my talents when I'm doing so through his power.

After Peter catches the miraculous catch of fish, he tells Jesus to go away. He calls Jesus "Lord" and himself a "sinful man." In that moment, Peter saw how Jesus' power could transform his somewhat average fishing skills (and that particular night, subpar skills), and he knew God's glory. He was humbled.

I want to be the kind of person that shines God's glory through the work I do—not the kind of person that thinks I got where I am because I'm so great. I want God to transform my average talent into an overflowing net of fish.

Because He Said So

I've recently started reading "Brave Enough to Follow" by Stuart Briscoe. Like many people, I've often identified with Peter, so I thought it would be good to go through a book exploring his spiritual journey with Jesus.

The first chapter talks about the time when Jesus tells Peter to cast his nets into the lake. I'd never really thought about just how nonsensical this command seemed. In the cool of the night, Peter and the others had caught no fish. Not one. The fish would be far less likely to be present now, with the water warming up.

But here's the thing that really got me: Peter had already cleaned his nets. He'd put a lot of effort into a long night of fruitless fishing, and he'd gone through the trouble of wrapping up his day. Mentally and physically, he was done. And then Jesus tells him to put those freshly cleaned nets back in the water.

As a neat freak, I resonated with Stuart's point. Jesus was telling Peter to undo the work of cleaning his nets. And for what? Likely, for no fish...just to have to clean the nets again.

And Peter, who we know throughout the gospels is full of faux pas, acknowledges the silliness of Jesus' request...but then says this: "Because you say so, I will let down the nets" (Luke 5:5).

Last week in Sunday School a kid asked me why she couldn't do something and I said, "Because I said so." It was the first time I've said it, to my recollection! I guess you know you're old when you give a kid that reason.

But Jesus didn't need to give Peter a reason. Peter's the one who recognized that he wanted to obey just because Jesus said so.

At the end of each chapter there's a series of questions. One was "In what areas of your life is it the most difficult to let go of your agenda?" I scoffed in response, realizing I couldn't really narrow it down to just a few areas of my life. I blogged recently about not writing out a script to my life anymore. And that's good.

But I'm still a control freak. I still get annoyed when someone knocks over or moves something on my desk. I have a place for everything, and I like it that way. So I can just picture myself having cleaned and put my nets away...and I think I'd be a little perturbed that Jesus was messing with my system.

I think my whole life will be a journey of learning to let go. But this was another reminder to loosen up and give Jesus the space to speak into my life—even if it messes up my system.