When God Asks You to Do Less, Not More

Back in January, when everyone else was making lists of annual goals, God was whispering to me that I needed to spend this year simply abiding in him, abiding in my life the way it was. So I’ve trundled along this year, deliberately not tracking the books I’m reading, deliberately shying away from new commitments and more to-dos. I didn’t even volunteer to be a backstage mom at L’s dance rehearsal. I understood that God wanted me to just remain in one place.

Even with all of this deliberate abiding, I began to feel overwhelmed, overcommitted, stretched thin. Then, a couple of weeks ago, as I was describing these feelings to my [very wise] spiritual director and coach, Mary, she said to me, “Do you think maybe God is asking you to do even less?”

Striving, she pointed out, is simply doing more than God asks of us.

I could almost feel the lightbulb flash on above my head.

I have always thought of striving as working too hard at something, as trying to force things to happen, as having the wrong motivation (fame or wealth rather than service, for example). I’d never considered that maybe striving is also just a matter of doing too much.

Was I still striving? Did abiding mean I didn’t just need to stand still, but to cut back?

In order to answer these questions, I’ve begun to evaluate what’s really essential, to ask myself, What makes me feel like I’m thriving?

It’s a remarkably short list: curling up with a good book; writing, fiction as well as in my journal and on this blog; time to sit quietly, alone, to think and pray; getting outdoors, especially for a walk in a beautiful setting; quality time with my family; less time plugged into social media.

That’s it.

From there, I’ve begun to make some changes, to make some cuts to my daily script, if you will, to allow more time for the things that help me thrive. With each cut, a burden has lifted. I’ve felt a palpable sense of relief.

I’ve written quite a bit about Sabbath and rest and good self-care, but for me, this is a new level of understanding of what it means to thrive rather than strive.

In her book For the Love, Jen Hatmaker writes about having too much “on your beam,” a gymnastics metaphor:

“Wise women know what to hold onto and what to release . . . Scripture instructs us to live presently and joyfully, resisting worry and believing Jesus set us free for freedom’s sake. We have an abundance of good and perfect gifts that often look like a messy house full of laughter, a ten-year-old running through a sprinkler, a heart unburdened by comparison, an afternoon nap, joy in using our gifts and leaving the rest to people better suited. Our generation is so hamstrung with striving and guilt, we no longer recognize God’s good and perfect gifts staring us in the face. What a tragedy. What a loss. We will never get these lovely years back.”

I want to see my good and perfect gifts, not miss them because I have too many things going on, too much on my beam.

Jen also gives this advice: “Frame your choices through this lens: season. If your kids are under five, you cannot possibly include the things I can with middle and high schoolers . . . The choices you make today may completely change in five years or even next year. Operate in the right-now.”

Mary says we should reevaluate our needs every six months or so, especially in seasons of continuous change (like the child-rearing years). This resonates with what Jen says about seasons. What helps us thrive in one season may very well feel like striving in the next.

Often, abundant living means doing fewer things better.

For me, this season of cutting back, of less is more, feels like a vacation. As I slow down and do fewer things better, I am able to get my arms around my life again.

Do you need to get your arms around your life again, too? Could it be God is asking you to do less? What do you need to thrive?