Living Gently

Life is nothing if not a journey, and, under the right circumstances, a grand adventure. And, yet. So many of us are living at a pace that feels frantic, our days buzzing with chaotic energy and our nights passing in a haze of not-quite-restful sleep.

To be fair, I’m someone who carries a little bit of innately frantic energy, flitting between hobbies, projects, chores, and the combined schedules of 6 humans. The highs of riding these chaotic waves balanced out by, naturally, lows of overwhelm and near burnout.

Can I be a little bit honest and admit that it’s hard to produce the fruit of the Spirit in your home, work, and personal life when you are edging on exhaustion?

My experience on this rollercoaster through 18 years of family life, work, and ministry, rounding out 38 years of existence, has led me to the question: What would it look like to live out of an abundance of gentleness?

“What would it look like to live out of an abundance of gentleness?”

What if the way I move through my home, my work, my relationships, my life, was all done with a gentle — rather than a heavy — hand?

Have you stopped to consider the weight of your life?

The way you make impossibly long to-do lists, and then mentally scorn your inability to check off more than a few (or any) of the boxes.

The “hurts so good” mentality you bring to your exercise routine, as if you deserve to be punished for having a body that refuses to look like a photoshopped template of a woman.

The silent blame you heap on yourself when the children you’re loving and raising make poor choices, act out, rebel, or simply don’t show much ambition toward anything.

The way your fury finally comes pouring out after weeks, months, or years of feeling like you’re carrying the whole burden, never asking for help, relinquishing control, or attempting objectivity and gratitude.

I could continue, but I won’t, because ouch.

There was a time that “…the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” sounded a little bit not fun to me. In context of 1 Peter 3, the passage can easily ignite a spark inside the heart of a woman who certainly isn’t the little woman, thankyouverymuch.

As I’ve grown into adulthood, motherhood, womanhood, I’ve come to realize that the portrait of Jesus in Matthew 11 — the one he paints of himself — is a reliable foundation for the house of the soul.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

The prescriptive gentleness of 1 Peter isn’t a weight meant to bury me, but a life-giving practice of letting Christ shoulder the burden. A letting-go of the need to be in control, to have the final word, to resemble a stylish Mom Barbie instead of a 38 year old human woman, to expect a level of tidiness simply impossible for my four dear children to accomplish.

I believe an abundance of gentleness is, if not the answer, an answer. An answer to questions like how long? And seriously? And why, Lord?

As I make a little more room for writing in my life, something I love to do, I’ll be exploring the idea of living gently. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and how this fits in with your current perspective and experience.

-Jessa