the battle to walk gently and how poetry might help
On a Thursday morning, a few hours before friends come to our home to stay overnight with us for a few days, I asked my girlfriends to pray. The whole week I had been anticipating feeling depleted by the time it was Sunday and our guests had to go home. I had spent days thinking about what they might need, how I could create a cozy place for them in our studio (aka converted garage/office ). I put up drapes, spread the beds with cotton and flannel duvets and red wool knit blankets, threw sheepskin rugs over the concrete floor, tucked extra toiletries in the medicine cabinet, stocked the metal trays on the desks with nuts and chocolate and organic apples. Inside our house, I organized what I thought Justin would need to cook dinner for all of us that first night and filled the refrigerator with eggs and avocado and fruit for breakfasts as well as sandwich fixings for lunches.
What was curious was that the morning after our friends came I had the most unusual thought. I stood at the kitchen counter making lunches, my usual activity every 7:30 am, while Jackson, our oldest, thumped through, looking for his shoe hidden somewhere by Fulton, our dog; Abby, our daughter, repeatedly bumped up against me with her elbow while brushing her teeth at the kitchen sink; and Oliver, the middle teenager, bustled in and out of the hall bathroom attending to his outfit and hair. While assembling turkey and pickles on baguettes–and normal morning life surged around me–I felt within me a strange and beautiful calm.
Gold light shone through the kitchen window shutters to my hands and face, and a thought popped into my mind, unannounced and surprising: I like myself, who I am, right now. Despite my anticipated concern with feeling depleted by all the upcoming activity during our guests’ stay, I don’t wish I were someone else–someone who doesn’t fuss about the little things or care about details or likes to plan or is extroverted and energized by chaos. I know I am loved, right now, and made just like this, for a life like this.
It was pretty great.
This was love–not self-condemnation–which used to be my standard thought pattern when I anticipated social situations. Experiencing this feeling of self-acceptance was one of the most astounding and encouraging moments I’ve ever felt–standing in the kitchen, in my pajamas, making sandwiches for three teenagers. I was not performing, not striving, not trying to do anything amazing or life-changing. And I was loved. Right then. With all my flaws and personality quirks that I’ve, for decades, struggled to love and accept. I was liked just as I was. Just as I am. Just as I will be. God came right up behind me, wrapped His protective arms around me, and held me close. I couldn’t help but believe what He was saying was true.
To put the moment in the kitchen into context–if you have been following along with my writings on this blog and my old one over the years, you are probably well aware–this was a big deal to me. I am only just learning how to relax into God’s grace. Walk gently. Settle deep into truth. Accept that no matter what I did or what I do, I am loved. As I learn to be honest with myself, I realize I still battle the Father a lot: wanting, in my pride, to earn salvation, wanting to seek glory for myself rather than for God.
“Be imitators of God in everything you do, for then you will represent your Father as his beloved sons and daughters. And continue to walk surrendered to the extravagant love of Christ, for he surrendered his life as a sacrifice for us. His great love for us was pleasing to God, like an aroma of adoration—a sweet healing fragrance” (Ephesians 5: 1-2, TPT).
What about you? What does your battle to walk gently look like? Do you enter this posture easily? Or is there some struggle you face to do it?
For the Loop Poetry Project prompt this week, I invite you to write a poem about an inner struggle you are facing or have faced, with God. You can write it as a conversation with Him. Or write it in the third person. Here are some things to think about as you ponder this idea: What does it mean for you to walk gently? Or what is a story of you not walking gently? What about the word gentleness? What meaning does it have for you? What does it make you think of? What images do you associate with walking gently? How does the idea of walking gently make you feel? Or when have you observed someone else walking gently–and what effect does this observation have on you, as the observer? Does it make you want to walk gently, too? Or are you cautious, reserved, unsure about doing it yourself?
I am only learning how to walk gently. And, ironically, there is some truth, as well, in the fact that my learning how to walk gently with God has been hard-fought. Years of surrendering to Him and years of trying to do things on my own. Years of confessing my hardened heart and years of trying to hide my sin (from myself and from others). Years of falling more deeply in love with God and years of running away from Him. It is a battle. The words “walk gently” are so beautiful, aren’t they? And I believe He gives us everything we need to do this. But these lives of ours don’t feel so gentle, sometimes–which is why this “walk gently” with our God can feel complicated.
How about we take this complicated stuff to Him? How about we ask God about this whole “walk gently” idea…and then write a poem about that? I can’t wait to read yours.
Feel free to share your poem in the comments on this blog post! Or, even better, share it on social media using the hashtag #looppoetryproject. If you’d like to join a kind and supportive and encouraging group of brave women who are pursuing wholeness for their hearts using poetry as a tool, come on over and join the private Loop Poetry Project group on Facebook. I’d love to see you over there.
love,
jennifer
14 Comments
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I love this so much. It really spoke to me.
I smiled when I pictured you at the sink and God coming up behind you and wrapping His arms around you. Just as you were.
So beautiful.
I believe that is when I feel His presence best—when I come just as I am.
No pomp or circumstance. No hype. No religious, frantic summoning. No agenda.
I just come.
Like a child.
Heart and arms open.
Messy hair, sticky hands, foolish grin and all. And He loves that. ❤️
Thank you for always sharing your heart.
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Heather, I love this so much–“Messy hair, sticky hands, foolish grin and all.” This invitation to be a child, unafraid to take risks because we will be caught and loved no matter what. Thank you. So happy to engage with you here.
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I am going to have to sit on this walking gently. My first thought was when you are around a person and you walk on eggshells because you do not know how they are going to react to what you may say or do.
I love the image of going to God as a child.
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Hi Kristine, that is really interesting. I appreciate hearing this perspective. The invitation to walk gently is to walk with freedom, carefree and light, knowing you are loved and can take risks, knowing you are loved just as you are. And this invitation is not one to say yes to easily, I know. Our minds can accept it but our hearts might find it too good to enter into easily. But He does it. He helps us here.
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I find my self in the dark. In the darkest of nights. You are not afraid of the dark the way I am afraid. You carry me through my mind right through the depths of despair and show me light. The demons have consumed me and my mind, but you continue to love me anyway. You never let go anyway You never leave me. Despite the nightmare I have created called my life. No matter the depths of my black heart you have shown me mercy. All merciful Lord in heaven, you shine down on my crippled soul and saves me one more time. One last time. You see the good inside me. You see me. The real me that has been lost and locked inside herself. And love all of me. And becasue you do I do too. You changed my heart and filled my soul with light. And forgiveness. And for that I am grateful
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Margot, how beautiful this is! Your words a testimony to His love–which is power and grace. Your sharing here is such a blessing! Thank you and bless you!
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So far, 2020 has brought a lot of change. Some of it heartbreaking, some of it exciting, but in all of it, I know God is moving. He is with me every step of the way.
My walking gently is accepting who God has made me to be, willingly going through refiner’s fire as he continues to shape me all the more, according to his purpose. I may not like the trial and testing, but I like where God is taking me because he is working out his purpose. His purpose and plans are always good.
Walking gently for me right now, means going forward with him in trust and confidence. That is the insipration for what I wrote below.
I like where you’re taking me, Lord. It may not be exactly where I thought I’d be, based on my expectations. There will be joy and discovery. Challenges will present themselves along the way. I like where you’re taking me all the same because I’m on the path with you. I just want to be where you are.
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Jennifer, I am encouraged by your choice, again and again, to trust Him. It helps me lean in too. Thank you.
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Such a Beautiful picture you have imprinted upon my mind of God wrapping His arms around you just as you are. Such Love from Our Heavenly Father
I would Love to experience this same feeling. You are such A Blessing to many Jennifer! Continue God’s work
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Hi Sheila, this experience in the kitchen caught me off guard for sure–and encourages me to trust that His love for us, right now, despite us doing a thing, is absolutely true! Bless you as you receive His love for you now!
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Dear God,
I hid from you even while I sought you daily.
I proclaimed your goodness, while I hid my self- hatred.
I praised you and sang of deep love even while I felt worthless.
I longed to be out there helping others. You see, it numbed the pain.
I was so blind, so shut off, so deeply wounded within me..
I did not hear you.
With each day of quiet, gentle devotion You chipped away at that thick wall around my heart. I cried out to You ” please don’t let me be hurt again..my heart cannot take anymore, I’m exhausted.”
Your gentlessness, I knew You were near and always will be.
And with a deep, long releasing cry, I let it all go.
You freed me. You stood by me.
Your love dear God is all I needed to let light into my heart.
Walk gently with me.
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Jean! Wow! So stunning. Thank you. Amen.
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Walking Gently scrambled my mind with so many words falling from the skies. Will have to sort them, asking Gods wisdom to give meaning and upliftment to someone reading it.
Thank you Jennifer for sharing your journey with all of us. BLESSINGS
with ♥️ Karen Armstrong
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Karen, I am so grateful for your heart–and your words–as you stretch out your hands, your heart, to receive His goodness and love.