Do Less
I have an uncomfortable relationship with the idea of “my best.” It’s a wispy, iridescent ideal I’ve been told about my entire life, but never been able to comfortably grasp. Who decides what my best is? What’s the criteria? Is it effort? Is it capacity? Does the appearance thereof count, or is there some deeper excellence required in order to really and truly be the Best I Have to Offer?
I’m concerned I very rarely offer my best.
For one, I’m late for everything. Like, absolutely everything. Always. This is an immutable truth etched into the fabric of who I am, and just about everyone who knows me would back me up on that. And, having been raised on the Draconian mantra that “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,” I’ve spent a lot of time beating myself up for my chronic lateness. But here’s the thing: The longer that I live, and go to work, and attend events, and generally participate in society, the more it looks like five minutes behind schedule more or less washes out in the American Southeast.
Because, actually, punctuality is entirely made-up. Will the world stop spinning if you’re eight minutes late to class? Will it even matter in two hours? (Let me help you out: It super won’t.) Bosses are late, professors are late, doctors are late, performances are late, flights are late, payments are late, and yet we’re all still here. It doesn’t hurt to be on-time, and it’s true that punctuality is respectful of the time of others, but it isn’t life or death in the vast majority of circumstances. As a vital element of human society, I would argue that punctuality is a myth.
So, then, what is a realistic expectation for punctuality? Or for anything, really?
What actually counts as “best”?
I’ve obsessed over this for years. Deep down, I suspect I’ve never actually given anything 100%. Maybe 87%, tops. And that’s on my best day. The irony of it is that when I follow that rabbithole all the way down, I find underneath the guilt over not trying hard enough is a sedimentary layer of pride. Oh, me? Yeah I don’t do homework. Study? How do you do that? I don’t have to. I get A’s anyways, without trying at all. It’s great. Sure, I could probably do better, but I’d rather sleep through biology and be Good Enough than do the labor to be Great.
It’s funny how self-perception works. Despite being a smart kid in school, in hindsight it appears that I identified myself a lot more with everything I hadn’t done than everything I had. The first time somebody called me an overachiever, I thought it was a joke. It made me uncomfortable, like I’d tricked everyone somehow. In psychology, this is referred to as imposter syndrome; the sense that, despite outward appearances, one is actually a fraud. And I’m not unique in this - It has been estimated that nearly 70% of individuals will experience signs and symptoms of impostor phenomenon at least once in their life.
But is the issue about whether we do our best, or whether we do enough, or whether we are enough?
If the affirmations on Instagram are any indication, the persistent tie between production and personal worth is still going strong. Something supply, something something demand. And despite the constant reassurances that we are not our jobs, we are not our achievements, we are not our output, it appears that we remain unconvinced. We are exhausting ourselves with our efforts to deserve approval.
It’s a narrative that’s followed Millennials for over two decades now. From childhood, I and my peers have been heckled as the Participation Trophy generation. Which, frankly, is an odd thing to shame a demographic for considering we didn’t award those trophies to ourselves. Nonetheless, the sense that anything we achieved was undeserved stuck; we are cursed to endlessly pursue greater accomplishment, and endlessly suspect that what we’ve done so far doesn’t really count.
Bleak, right? Boy, oh boy, we’re just getting warmed up.
Because, per Ecclesiastes, there is nothing new under the sun. The curse of the Millennial-twenty-something is the curse of mankind. We are forever seeking righteousness, and forever coming up short. Regardless of whether you can relate to any of the things I’ve listed so far that stress me out, and I am more than willing to admit there’s some privilege tied up in all of them, I am firmly confident that there is something that gives you the same wobbly sense of what-if-I’m-a-fake deep down in your gut. Maybe it’s your marriage. Maybe it’s your parenting. Maybe it’s your friend group. Maybe it’s your spending habits. Something, somewhere in your life is making you second guess whether you’re getting it right. Even within the Church, striving and insecurity are in full view no matter which way you look. It’s a conversation I have often, with others and with myself:
“What if I’m not doing enough for God? How do I know I’m giving my best?
Underneath the guilt of not trying hard enough, and the pride of not having to, is fear. What if this actually is my best? And what if my best isn’t good enough? What if I’m wasting my time and everybody else’s? What if I’m a disappointment?
And how do I know?
It doesn’t have to be a mystery. God doesn’t expect us to live in tense uncertainty until we die. (Surprise! Not that bleak after all!) There’s actually a lot in the Bible about how we can live our lives in peace and security, certain of who we are and what we need to do. And that, friends, is what this essay is going to be about.
Let’s begin with one of the greatest hits of all time: Proverbs 3:5-6.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (v. 5)
The first half of this classic is so well known we might make the mistake of skimming over it without fully absorbing the profound truth it offers us.
The first step to living a peaceful, secure life is letting go.
The truth is that our resume, no matter what it is, just isn’t going to cut it. Paul famously makes this point in his letter to the Philippians, listing his dazzling credentials like a 17-year-old WASP applying to Harvard.
“[...]If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless.
But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.”
Philippians 3:4b-7
The best we have to offer, the biggest and shiniest trophies we’ve got, we can just go ahead and count as loss. It’s a wash. Subpar. The dread we feel of inadequacy is completely deserved. The Message paraphrases this thought as, “The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for.”
And posturing is completely useless, because Romans 3:23 makes it painfully clear that we’re all in the same boat; “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”
I’ve checked the Greek word for “all” there. It’s pantes. (It means “all.”)
I bring this up because these are the things we have to acknowledge in order to understand why we must trust God and not ourselves. There’s no getting around the fact that we’ve all missed the mark of righteousness, and nothing we bring to the table is going to change that. If we’re going to believe the Bible, these are inarguable facts; so do yourself a favor, embrace your inner nihilist, and let go.
This becomes a lot easier when you read that Romans 3 goes on to say: “and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” That same “all.” Yes, our resume does not cut it, and yes there is nothing that we can bring to the table to change that. But the radiant good news of the gospel is that it was never meant to. In all things, at all moments, our justification comes through Jesus. He is our Best. He is our Enough. This isn’t just a cosmic, spiritual concept - Moment by moment, Jesus is our adequacy. Throughout the mundane granularity that is human living, it is not us but Christ living in us (Gal 2:20); thus allowing us to release our hold on our own abilities, take the pressure off of our own understanding, and turn our eyes to the only One who actually has any idea what’s going on.
Which brings us to step two:
“... in all your ways submit to him...”
Proverbs 3:6a
The King James Version phrases it as “acknowledge,” and The Passion Translation says to “Become intimate with him in whatever you do.” No matter how you put it, the core thought is that the input and will of God should be something we are perpetually attentive to. If you’re like me, at first glance that might sound like a ton of effort. The thought of constantly straining to hear God’s voice every second of every day is enough to give any normal person a migraine. But that’s because we’re looking at it from the completely wrong angle.
In the same way that it’s a lot easier to hear a friend when they don’t have to shout from another room, it’s a lot easier to hear the Lord when we’re dwelling with Him. Peace of mind and purpose in life begins when we abide in God’s presence. That’s right kids, now that we’ve embraced our inner nihilist we’re embracing our inner mystic next.
A year ago, a mentor of mine (hi Pam!) lent me a book called The Practice of the Presence of God, and it rocked my life. The subject/author of the book was a 17th century French monk named Brother Lawrence. Born Nicolas Herman to poor parents in 1614, Brother Lawrence joined the Carmelite order as a young man and lived out his days in relative obscurity, working as the monastery cook until his health gave out. Even the book he is credited with was compiled after his death, composed of letters he wrote and conversations recorded by others. And yet, this man has had a profound impact on the Christian faith for the past four centuries, influencing Catholics and Protestants alike. Why? Because Brother Lawrence knew that he was loved by God and lived entirely to love Him in return, seeking nothing but His face.
“I cannot imagine how religious persons can live satisfied without the practice of the presence of God. For my part I keep myself retired with Him in the depth of centre of my soul as much as I can; and while I am so with Him I fear nothing; but the least turning from Him is insupportable.”
There comes a point of intimacy with God when you can’t imagine life, not one single second, without Him. The longer and more fully you gaze on Jesus, the dimmer the rest of the world grows. The Psalmist expresses it this way:
“One thing I ask from the Lord,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.”
Psalm 27:4
More than anything else, the observance made by everyone who encountered Brother Lawrence was that he was a man of profound peace. He was a man fully at rest, regardless of circumstance; in meditation, on the road, washing dishes, wherever. What the spiritualists call “mindfulness”, or “centeredness”, or “groundedness”, or what have you does in fact exist - There is a state of mind available to human beings in which we experience true respite.
Once we let go, we are able to settle in. The presence of the Lord is the safest place to be.
He is our adequacy, our righteousness, and our Good Shepherd. Psalm 23 poetically describes the flawless guidance we can expect when we submit our ways to Him. In the gospel of John, Jesus Himself tells us that good fruit, the outcome of a purposeful life, is only possible when we’re abiding in His presence.
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
John 15:5
This is the How. This is the place we have to live from in order to be free of the fear of falling short and missing it. And, in my opinion, this is the hardest part. As it so often happens, What is a natural overflow of How.
Step three:
“... and he will make your paths straight.”
Proverbs 3:6b
Sincere trust in the Lord and consistent closeness to His heart begets direction. The New Living Translation says, “He will show you which path to take.” The Message says, “He’s the one who will keep you on track.” All this time that we’ve (I’ve) been spinning our (my) wheels, God’s promise has been hiding in plain sight. And, respectfully, while the Lord does have thoughts and feelings about where we go to college and who we marry, I would like to argue that the essence of our marching orders is far more simple.
“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.”
Micah 6:8
That’s right, kids. It’s literally right there in a minor prophet, not an unknowable mystery hiding in subtext and hermeneutics. This is what the humans are supposed to do. When you boil your life down, and all the details evaporate, this is what should be left. Why? Because it’s what the Lord has asked of us.
“ Let us thus think often that our only business in this life is to please God, that perhaps all besides is but folly and vanity.”
Once we let go of our own understanding and settle into God’s presence, we are able to continue forward in confidence.
It allows us a focus that transcends the chaos raging all around us, insulating us against distraction and insecurity. It is for this reason that we cannot be shaken. The ground beneath our feet is clear, precise, and solid.
Doing less doesn’t mean doing nothing - It means doing only that which really matters. We allow the divine curation of what we emphasize in our hearts. It’s very Marie Kondo. And when we’ve recalibrated our self-measurement to God’s expectations of us rather than our own, we find ourselves much less defeated.
This doesn’t mean “letting ourselves off the hook” when it comes to our faults. Don’t worry, reformed friends, I’m not arguing for that at all. 1 John 1:10 strongly expresses the seriousness with which we must take our fallen nature:
“If we claim we have not sinned, we are calling God a liar and showing that his word has no place in our hearts.”
Sin is gravely serious. It’s an offense against a Holy God, and we have no right at all to excuse or downplay the implications of that. But for the redeemed, the story goes further. When we actively acknowledge our wrongdoing, we are then able to move forward in freedom.
“But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness.”
1 John 1:9
Just as much as confession, we can’t afford to miss the moving forward. We can’t afford to waste the freedom Jesus bought for us. It’s a trap of the enemy, designed to take from us whatever he can possibly manage to take. Don’t let him.
Included in The Practice of the Presence of God is a list of observances of the way Brother Lawrence lived his life, my favorite of which is the following:
“That he was very sensible of his faults, but not discouraged by them.”
We can know our failings without being buried under them. Self-awareness doesn’t necessitate the constant dredging up of shortcomings. Know your faults, by all means, but please don’t burn through your peace being discouraged over them. We have access to better.
This is what Jesus meant when He said, “My yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” (Matt 11:30) Not that life will be easy as a follower of Christ, but that it will be a life worth living. And what has been asked of us, we bear with the help of the One who asks it. What a beautiful promise. Rest and purpose, in perfect balance to each other.
Let go, settle in, then continue forward.
For those who are tired of being tired. For those who are exhausted with their own weariness. For those whose souls are ready to give out altogether - This is the answer. The How, the What, and the Why all bound up into Who. The good news goes so far beyond the rescue of our souls from damnation, although that would be more than enough. Here and now, in the land of the living, the Lord has not withheld from us what we need in order to do what is good. Now take a deep breath, shed the weight of the things you weren’t meant to carry, and step into it. You, child of God and co-heir with Christ, are defined by the blood of Jesus; and He isn’t a fake. This is who you are. This is what you need to do.
This is the burden worth bearing. And as is so often the case, it’s simple but it isn’t easy. It will cost you your trophies, your career projections, your ministry goals, your 5 year financial plan, your carefully curated social status, and the unbearable weight of knowing none of it was enough. Dear child, loosen that white-knuckle grip on your life and find freedom.
Trust God, let go, and just do less.
“That we need only to recognize God intimately present with us, to address ourselves to Him every moment, that we may beg His assistance for knowing His will in things doubtful, and for rightly performing those which we plainly see He requires of us, offering them to Him before we do them,
and giving Him thanks when we have done.”
Brother Lawrence
- Kyle