Get Out of the Traffic
I’ve got 99 problems, but tasking ain’t one. I get things done. I fight hard to make things happen. I pushed in labor for 4 years. I am proud of my commitment to accomplish hard things. And I’m also tired.
I am an Achiever (type 3) on the enneagram personality assessment (find your type here by clicking on the FREE RHETI Sampler). Quiet makes me panic. My to-do list gets longer and longer. It's a total high to scratch finished items off. I strategize daily how I can make more happen. And I often lay my head down on my pillow at night with shame about all the things that aren’t done – there ready for my attack in the morning. I believe, somehow, that if I can do and be more, I am more valuable, worthy, and lovable. Doing keeps me seen. Performing keeps me loved. Achieving keeps me worthy. I think.
Here’s what those things also do. Doing keeps me busy. Performing keeps me disconnected from myself. Achieving keeps me tired. Yet it terrifies me to let go of my plan or throw my task lists in the recycling bin (because hey, if I’m going to get rid of them, let’s make good environmental choices, right?). I just almost shat myself thinking about not having a list. Without the list, where is the direction? Without the performance will people still love me? Without the achievement, will anyone even notice me anymore? My constant question is “If I don’t do it, who will?” So I even keep accepting tasks that aren’t mine to do. And sometimes it flows over into other people’s tasks. I seem to think there are better ways for them to perform too. My poor children are going to know how to most efficiently load a dishwasher – as if there is a blue ribbon for the most beautifully stacked bottom basket. Seriously?
I am not ashamed of who I am. I am coming to accept that my personality naturally tends me toward perpetual motion. AND I am coming to accept that I don’t have to let it cripple or harm me. How can I (and you) embrace the way I am beautifully made, yet be mindful of where it may be getting in the way?
The verse “Be still and know I am God” (Psalm 46:10) has always brought me much fear and shame. “Be still” – ugh, I feel like I’m doomed to fail immediately. But God, I don’t know how to be still! When I read on to the “and know” part, there is a slight hint of freedom and a longing to understand more. In the same way we have to parent our very different children differently, I believe God does the same thing with us. He knows that if he asked me to just “be still” I might have a full-on temper tantrum. So in my searching of this verse in other translations, I found in the Message, “Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me, your High God…” YES, that’s it! That’s what I feel God inviting me to do – get out of the traffic. Take a new road. It’s okay to keep moving as long as I’m more aware of the direction I’m heading and the signs I’m following. I don't have to stay on the same internal busy highway I take every day. And I don't have to be the one always in the driver's seat. When I can take a long loving look at God, whether I’m doing the dishes, playing a game with my kids, or breaking it down to my favorite hip-hop music, I can stop relying on my own human strength. I let go. I release my tasks, actions, and decisions from being obligations. I can trust that my movement is for restoration, not expectation. While there are certainly times that literally “being still” has its benefits, I don’t have to expect myself to be able to do that well all the time. I can let myself be in movement – out of the traffic, toward the place where my soul meets Jesus and lets me be loved. One of my favorite things to do is walk in my neighborhood down to this little river. Each time I reach this place, I stop and take a deep breath, stretch my body, and give gratitude. I’m not physically still, but my mind and heart find a quiet place of trust in that moment.
~Does your personality welcome or resist physical stillness? Why? Try not to shame or judge your answer. Just notice it.
~What does “be still” mean for YOU? Is that scary? What could it mean instead?
~How/what do you “know” when you find this “stillness?”