Mondays typically hold a negative connotation for many people—but not me. When other people are starting over their work weeks with groans and coffee that does not seem to work on this day of the week, I am waking up late, going to yoga at 10:30am, and spending the rest of my time running errands in shorts and a t-shirt. This, I must say, is the one benefit of working Tuesday through Saturday.
This Monday morning, I rest on my coach in our sitting room, our extra-large blanket encompassing my always-cold body as I sip on coffee. Our pup is gnawing at a chew toy and occasionally glances up at me with one ear standing up and one ear flopped over. And I realize as I open up my prayer journal, that I am comfortable.
Maybe too comfortable.
Life has been passing by quickly lately. I drive about an hour to work and back every day in addition to spending hectic days working through “lunch” and winding down my evenings by mindlessly watching a Netflix show. I claim that I am too busy to do more productive things and that I needto relax, even for several hours per night. In the process, I have lost sight of crucial aspects of my identity that I have let slip away, replaced by comfort and ease.
I used to be organized—I had a planner in which I wrote everything I did for the day. I used to be more OCD about cleanliness—I made it a goal to tidy up my old apartment every night before going to sleep. And I used to be more proactive—I used to do whatever it took to get the best grade in class.
But now, I feel scattered. I don’t care as much if I don’t get to all the dishes or countertops for a couple of days. And I prefer relaxation over productivity, even to the point that I have become lazy in how I appear to others at work. Rather than actively choosing to reflect Christ, I have passively reflected stress instead.
I have come to crave comfort over calling.
Because I know God has called me to more than this. He wants me to spend time in His Word and in prayer—not make excuses that I am too tired or don’t have enough time. He wants me to use the gifts he has given me—not go months on end without writing because it’s easier to watch Netflix. And He wants me to love others selflessly—not slack off and let others pick up my slack.
Jesus Himself often withdrew to pray (Luke 5:16), but I have been withdrawing to my own comforts rather than going to the God of all comforts (2 Corinthians 1:3). I claim that I am too tired to refuel with Scripture, to engage in writing, or to love well, when God can use my struggles to strengthen me (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).
I am tired of being too tired. I am done making excuses.
Jesus died on the cross so that I may know Him and that I may live a gospel-saturated life. I am done letting opportunities to reflect Christ slip out of sight because I am blinded by my own selfishness. But praise God that He is gracious and that He is a God who gives chance after chance, even when I am undeserving.
Comforts are comfortable, but I no longer want to let them be my idols. I no longer want to bow down to relaxation as though my soul doesn’t need to rest in God. I am choosing now to get a little uncomfortable so that I can depend on God for strength. Me trying to do it on my own has only resulted in me fading away from who I am in Christ. When I choose to actively depend on God by praying, by surrendering my days to Him, and by placing the gospel at the center of my purpose, I become the person that God has created me to be.I know this because I have experienced the joyfulness and richness of it before, and I know I can experience it again with God’s grace and guidance.
Dependence on Him is better than dependence on myself.
Placing Him first is better than me pretending to be first.
Working with the gospel at the center of my life is better than working with me at the center of my life.
Lord, please help me depend on You better.
