More Lyric
I’ve been lost in the religion section of every bookstore for a long time now. Most of the authors are unfamiliar to me as I scan the shelves, skimming over titles that seem to promise self-help and lingering on the authors that I know or have heard about through my growing following of these authors on social media. I tend toward the writers who share their real life as a reflection of how they reach for God, the writers who don’t pretend that they have it all together or that life in Christ is easy. I soak in and reread the authors who present the life of Christ in all its messiness and beauty and teach me to follow the example of Jesus. I love the authors whose examples teach me how to write about God.
Among those authors, Emily P. Freeman is one of my newest favorites. Her books Simply Tuesday, A Million Little Ways, and The Next Right Thing are so rich that I can’t fly through them. I read slowly and stop to think or pray through her words, resting in the truth she brings. She writes gently but with passion, and her books highlight how to honor God through the real lives he has given us. In each of her books that I have read, there have been specific takeaway lines to digest before I read them again.
One of my favorite lines of Emily’s came from a seven-day ebook guide to creativity she offers through her website, and it talks about how she wants her life to be more like a lyric and less like a list. That idea hit me hard, as I love my lists. At work, I live by my lists, and ever since I discovered the magic of a Reminders app on my iPhone, I have kept a running list going to keep me on track at home too. The result of all these lists is that I sometimes have trouble relaxing until I have checked off every item, and too often, in my desire to get things done, I respond to my kids’ requests for fun activities with, “Just give me one more minute!”
I have traditionally thought that living by a list was the only way to stay organized and ensure everything got done. Forgetting a date makes me berate myself and return to my calendar to re-check my lists obsessively. But the idea that my life could be more like a lyric sounds like such freedom. I think of sweet summer days at home with the kids, when some days we stay in pajamas all day and eat lunch on the back porch, or we call my sister for a milkshake run in the late afternoon, or we abandon plans to clean the house and spend the rest of the day in the back of a truck on my grandparents’ farm. But these heavenly days are the exception in my life, not the rule.
What would my life look like if I lived it like a lyric instead of a list?
I would dance while I vacuumed. I would skip through puddles in a parking lot, holding my kids’ hands. I would take my notebook and my coffee to the porch in the morning, and if my daughter woke up early, I’d sit with her head on my shoulder while we watched the day break. I would sing every silly song, loudly, while playing Magic Treehouse games on the swing set with my son. I would hold Joe’s hand while watching movies together at night. I would write and not worry about who thought what of it. These wholehearted days would be the rule in my life, and the excessive organization I try to impose on every day would fade into the background.
If my life were a lyric, I would step into each day in complete freedom in Jesus to be exactly who he made me to be. I would praise him even from the floor of the laundry room during a tornado warning, while my kids use my limbs as pillows. I would let my life shine for him without obsessing over whether I was doing it right. I would live my life in love for others and in the assurance of love for myself.
Living life as a lyric lets me live in total freedom in Christ, instead of the rigid restriction of my own list. I’d like to learn to honor God by living like this, and I’m thankful to Emily P. Freeman for her guidance along the way.