By Meghan Weyerbacher
“In a race everyone runs, but only one person gets first prize. So run your race to win. To win the contest you must deny yourselves many things that would keep you from doing your best. An athlete goes to all this trouble just to win a blue ribbon or a silver cup, but we do it for a heavenly reward that never disappears.” – 1 Corinthians 9:24-25 TLB
Once upon a time there was a woman who always said no to herself and yes to everyone else’s needs to the point that she fell flat on her face with nothing left to give. And every time she was peeled off the pavement—because yes, God would always send help—she would soon after forget that she too was human, and had daily, human needs.
These things were not evil, but in fact, a part of life. She just couldn’t let go of that phrase she’d heard as child. You know the one about JOY? Jesus. Others. Yourself.
And if you came before God, you were way off base and better eat the carpet at that altar. And so, lies and partial truths kept her bound for much of her life as she shoved aside God-whispers that would have kept her healthier.
Her favorite whisper?
“Write.”
“No, I can’t. That’s just me wanting to write. I need to do these other things they are telling me to do.”
She’d served and tried to be Christlike, but something was missing. What was going on?
She’d grown up in church and knew all the rules. She showed up, but she was overly tired, and quite empty. Something was terribly wrong. Her heart bubbled with trouble. Fast forward, she stuffed it down for years, and all the spinning plates crashed to the floor.
News flash—she was me. (You saw that coming, didn’t you?)
Through the overwhelm of over committing myself every year, chasing to-do’s like it was my ticket to heaven, striving to find my identity, hand dipping in this or that, but it never quite feeling “right,” my husband felt led to pursue long distance truck driving; something he’d always wanted to do, but life had never allowed.
I remember a small wad of jealousy balling up in my gut, along with a thousand emotions that left me in puddles on the floor. Really, God? More waiting? But I got my heart right and nodded. (Or maybe I nodded, then my heart got right. Yeah—that’s more like it.)
I knew this was something that would benefit our family and his own soul, at the time, so he took off, pursuing this dream. And to be honest, I was happy for him, despite the hardship it also brought. Having three young kids at home and barely being able to keep all the plates spinning as it were, something had to give. Yeah—back to that crash.
With the husband gone, there was no way I could keep saying yes to everything and everyone while my own family seemed to get the leftovers week after week.
They were fed and clothed. I am talking emotional stability. Fun activities. Those things that were zapped due to life changes and overextending myself in the name of holy service.
I realize looking back now that I had quite a bit backwards. That some theology was twisted. That my priorities were out of whack. As the country song Burning Man says, “I still don’t get it right sometimes, I just don’t get it as wrong.”
From Helpless to Healthy
Once my husband was on the road, after I pulled out of activities I could no longer handle in that season of my life, and once I realized it was okay to say, “No, not today,” or “Let me pray about that first,” I found myself on the bed at night, laptop open, words pouring out through the pain, through the fear—through the loneliness.
It was the beginning of an adventure with God that far surpassed any experience I’d had anywhere else, church walls included. And that’s not to knock the church. I say this because I think sometimes we box God in.
Sometimes we elevate where and how He shows up, rather than the fact that He is willing and His presence is constant. If anything, the way He drew me back to my childhood love of writing shows me a side of Him I was missing in church at the time: His fatherliness. His stick-by-you-closer-than-a-brotherness.
He showed me just how personal He can really get. That he had been with me my whole life, even when I thought he was far away. All those times I thought good things in my heart would go to waste. God knew my time would come.
He came to where I was, in a lonely space, and gave me something I never thought I would have this side of heaven.
- He gave me time.
- He gave me words.
- He gave me resources to share.
- He blessed me with community.
God showed me life is for service, but that service is so much more than I ever thought or hoped for.
That in the way He created us, there is purpose and life. That we need not downplay our gifts or how He wired us to work and serve, but that we can lean into that, and glorify Him.
It will look different for everyone.
It may or not be seen by others.
Runs down our road as I spend time with God are some of the highlights of my week.
I have a friend who creates amazing crafts and can turn a profit every time. She puts her best into what she does and honors the Lord in doing so (Col. 3:23).
Stewarding Ourselves Well
It’s not navel-gazing to invest in the gifts we’ve been given or make time for what fills us. When we discover we’re free to be creative within God’s loving boundaries, I think we can share even more.
I’ve been rereading Beautiful Outlaw by this amazing author who captures the humanity of Jesus well, and it makes so much sense. I always wondered why on earth nonbelievers might ever want what we have, if we always appeared miserable.
I would look around at people and scratch my head. I sat in the pew and didn’t even want what I had. I now realize true joy isn’t some funny phrase, but it comes from deeper within, beyond our circumstances.
I only discovered this truth by allowing myself time to get alone with God, without distraction and without the voice of the world telling me what to believe.
“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself, ‘What makes me come alive?’ Because what the world—a wife, a child—needs is men who have come alive.” – John Eldredge
While I realize the quote might have been spoken to a group of guys during a ministry event, this goes for us all. If you discover what makes you come alive, don’t deny it. Simply, ask God how you can pursue what’s tugging at your heart, for His glory. The key is doing what you can do to make it happen, and trusting Him with the parts that are not in your control.
To join the rest of our Cultivate series and build positive habits for your mind, body, and soul, click here. Upcoming topics include Time & Stress Management, Money Mindset & Stewarding of Finances, Practicing Mindfulness, and Overcoming Anxiety.
About the Author: Meghan Weyerbacher was a published poet and winning historical essayist by the age of twelve, a natural-born storyteller. Her most recent work is a contemporary Christian romance series, Small Town Secrets. Get a free Prequel here. When she’s not writing, you can find her chasing pets at home, and blending in with the kids at church. To sign up for Meghan’s newsletter, click here.
One thought on “Making Time for What Makes You Come Alive”
There’s much truth here, Meghan. When we were in a season of caregiving, some people didn’t seem to understand that was our primary ministry, and we needed to pull back from others. Motherhood is the same way. I love church, but ministry isn’t confined to the church walls.