To the Young Person Wondering How to Live Your Life

/ Elizabeth Trotter / Leave a comment

Dear young person wondering how to live your life,

Now is the time when you have energy and passion. So do the work. Pour out your heart. You won’t regret the castles you build in this phase of life.

Someday your energy will wane, and you’ll have children and mortgages and responsibilities — and all of that is good. But you can build something now that you’ll be proud of later. 

So work hard, in whatever you do, as working for the Lord.

And build your life on Jesus Christ. You’ll never regret laying that foundation. But don’t be afraid to question, to doubt, to seek God in your questions. He will meet you there, purify you, strengthen you.

I heard someone talking about the house they built, a metaphorical house that crumbled in midlife. They listed all the things that house was built on and then asked if it was any wonder the house fell down in the storm? It had been built on the wrong things — the inessential things.

And I thought to myself, Your house doesn’t have to crumble in the storm. Not if you build it on the essential one, Jesus. And allow Him to prune you of the inessentials as you go. 

I look back and am glad I built my life on faith and examined my beliefs and expectations as I went. That purity culture that my husband and I taught so earnestly in the early 2000s? By the 2010s, gone. Those American-centric assumptions? Pulled out of us by preparation for the field and life on the field itself. 

That works-based understanding of sanctification? Dross that was burned away by grief work (with the help of a Christian counselor) in the early 2000s. Beliefs about the equality of men and women in the church? Whittled away by the realities of marriage and life in an international church. Beliefs about how the Holy Spirit works? Slowly expanded as I learned to trust God more.

Now, in my 40s, I look back and am so glad I built my life on something that will last and that I let that Someone prune my belief system as I went. My faith is sturdier and calmer than it was before, but I started in the right place, with the right Person.

It’s not that I haven’t had faith struggles. I have. And that’s the point — we have to keep pressing in. It is through those struggles that faith is strengthened, if we surrender to the process.

The truest, most important thing about you is your soul. Neglect that, and you’ll lose yourself, lose touch with the person God created you to be and still calls you to be. Return to your first love, and you’ll return to yourself — even if you have to evaluate a few beliefs along the way.

When I struggled during re-entry, when I veered away from my foundation, my first love, I also strayed from my true self, my true nature.

Only when I returned to my first love did everything in my life click into place. And I was so glad that I had built that foundation so long ago. It was something sturdy to fall back on, to return to, to rebuild with. 

I’m so glad I committed Scripture to memory and planted hymns in my heart when I was young, when my mind was young and pliable. Truth embedded in the brain will not fail to bear fruit as the calendar years pile up. Your body may feel the wear and tear of more trips around the sun, but your spirit can keep growing stronger. 

So take your young energy and do something meaningful with it. Pour into your community, pour into others, give of yourself. And in the background quietly build your faith. Commit Scripture to memory when you’re young. Carve out time to talk to God. Practice listening to the Spirit. Spend your life on something worthwhile.

You’ll be so glad you did.

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Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old and say, “Life is not pleasant anymore.” Remember him before the light of the sun, moon, and stars is dim to your old eyes, and rain clouds continually darken your sky. Remember him before your legs—the guards of your house—start to tremble; and before your shoulders—the strong men—stoop. Remember him before your teeth—your few remaining servants—stop grinding; and before your eyes—the women looking through the windows—see dimly.

Remember him before the door to life’s opportunities is closed and the sound of work fades. Now you rise at the first chirping of the birds, but then all their sounds will grow faint.

Remember him before you become fearful of falling and worry about danger in the streets; before your hair turns white like an almond tree in bloom, and you drag along without energy like a dying grasshopper, and the caperberry no longer inspires sexual desire. Remember him before you near the grave, your everlasting home, when the mourners will weep at your funeral.

Yes, remember your Creator now while you are young, before the silver cord of life snaps and the golden bowl is broken. Don’t wait until the water jar is smashed at the spring and the pulley is broken at the well. For then the dust will return to the earth, and the spirit will return to God who gave it.

That’s the whole story. Here now is my final conclusion: Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone’s duty.

Ecclesiastes 12:1-7,13 NLT

Weird Animals

/ Elizabeth Trotter / 2 Comments

Weird animals adorn my house. I love them. In the beginning my family thought it was odd, humorous. But the bison made sense; as a child my family would stop at a buffalo reserve “on post” on our way to and from church. Even the llama made sense. It’s a character in a classic Disney movie — and the theme of a favorite coffee shop.

But then I just kept falling in love with other weird animals, and I realized it’s actually me: I like weird animals. 

The musk ox. The platypus. The llama. The bison. Even the turtle is weird and strangely addictive for me, much like the moon. When I see a turtle, I just can’t tear my eyes away from it. A turtle doesn’t belong to the modern world any more than the moon or a human soul does.

Then one day I realized that if God took the time to make weird animals, He must like them. Which means He must like me. Because I’m weird. I don’t fit in a lot of places. I never have.

Weird animals are ugly and cute all at the same time. They’re common and yet uncommon. And they don’t even know they’re weird. They are gloriously unselfconscious. They just do what God made them to do. They don’t know any other way.

Jesus never intended for us to be normal, to conform to culture. He wants us to be unique, just the way He created us to be. He even likes it that way.

So now I look at my beloved weird animals and smile, knowing that I am also a beloved weirdo to the God of the universe. The designer of all that weirdness looks at me and smiles. How great is that?

How Big Is Your Cup?

/ Elizabeth Trotter / Leave a comment

You can’t pour from an empty cup. It’s so cliche, yet cliches arise for a reason.

Because it’s true: you can’t keep giving and giving and giving. To God. To others. Not without refilling. Even my children know this. We’ve talked about ministry burnout often enough.

I think most of us know this truth and even accept it. We have to be refilled by God. Jesus modeled this for us.

But what we don’t always recognize is that we all have different cup sizes. We pour out at different rates, and we refill at different rates. Nobody is the same, and we can’t compare our public ministry or private refilling needs to anyone else’s.

So how big is your cup? How long does it take to pour out, and how long does it take to refill? These are things only you can discern. God asks us to pour ourselves out for others, yes, but He also longs to pour Himself into us. 

We aren’t useful to anyone if we’ve poured ourselves out so completely that there isn’t even a drop left. So let God fill your cup, in His own time and in His own way. He made your cup and gave it to you, and He knows how much time it takes to refill you.

Then walk out your front door and pour it out for Him. He promises to be there when you come back for more.

Because we weren’t meant to hoard all that goodness for ourselves. We were made to share it with others. 

When we don’t, we become like the Dead Sea, with freshwater inflow and no outflow. We become too salty, too concentrated and astringent to sustain life. Always taking and never giving — like a metaphorical black hole.

I’ve used way too many analogies here, and now it’s time to stop.

But before I do, I want to help my fellow low-energy moms out there. Ten years ago Brandy Vencel wrote a blog series called The Low-Energy Mom’s Guide to Homeschooling. Even if you’re not homeschooling, several of the articles might still apply.

Because we all have different sizes of cups. We all have different rates of pouring out and refilling. But we also all have the same God, a good Father who longs to pour into His children and watch them pour into others. We were never meant to keep the goodness He gives us—we were made to share it.

Don’t Bury the Talent

/ Elizabeth Trotter / Leave a comment

A man going on a trip entrusted three servants with separate portions of his wealth, each according to their abilities. To one he gave five talents, to another he gave two talents, and to a third he gave one talent.
(Paraphrased from Matthew 25)

An enduring truth in my life has been that I have two talents, while my husband has five. God has given him gifts in many areas, and He has given me gifts in a few areas.* God has also given him more energy with which to grow his talents. I have always had less energy, though it’s especially pronounced in my forties.

But God gives us both the same task: to nurture the talents we have been given and to pour them out for others. To make my talents grow, I have to steward my energy well, which often looks like saying “no” when others with more energy talents might be able to say “yes.” Investing my God-given gifts means honoring my God-given limitations.

In biblical times a talent had enormous value. Some calculations indicate that a single talent was worth about seventy-five pounds of silver, while other sources say it was about twenty years of wages. We don’t know for sure, but we do know that a talent was worth a lot.

And so it is with us today. Each talent that God gives a person is valuable. Gifts aren’t worth more or less in the kingdom — though God may appear to give some of us more than He gives others. 

Not that I’m accusing God of giving me too little or my husband too much. The differences between us don’t usually bother me anymore. I know the God who made me and in whose image I was created. I know the One who knit me together in my mother’s womb just the way He intended. And I know He’s given me talents that He calls me to use in encouraging others and bringing Him glory. 

Still, I have fewer talents than some, and far less energy than many. My talents aren’t very flexible; if I’m pulled too far in one direction or simply in too many directions at once, I don’t stretch. I don’t bend or spring back. I just crack. In my forties I am brittle.

Sometimes I wonder why God made me with such limitations, which have always been present but which are exacerbated in midlife. But when I get alone with God and quiet my soul, I find I know the answer to this question. God has given me limitations so that I will depend on Him. So that all the glory He gets from the talents He has given me? I’ll know He’s the source of it all — the gifts and the talents and the time and the energy and even the discernment to steward them well.

Accepting the reality of our limitations is key to investing our talents in the economy of the kingdom. The servant with the single talent didn’t really understand his own fear or the heart of his master. He didn’t understand that the master wanted him to do something, even if that something was small or yielded only small growth. And he didn’t understand that his fear was keeping him from doing the small things he could do.

As a lower-energy person, I must be careful not to slide into the mindset of that lone servant, burying my talents in the fear of being completely poured out. I have to imitate the mindset of the servant with two talents, content with what I’ve been given and determined to make it count. To do this, I have to depend on God for my every morning, my every afternoon, my every evening. It’s the only way I’ve found to actually spend the gifts I’ve been given.

Because I’ve tried in times past to live my life apart from God. I’ve rejected dependence on God, resentful that I need Him so much, jealous of those in the world who seem to live just fine apart from Him, able to accomplish and achieve without dependance on a holy God. But I’m apparently incapable of that. I have cut myself off from the life-giving vine before, and everything in my life withers and dies.

How thankful I am that God offers His Spirit to help navigate the difficulties of life. How thankful I am that He gives of Himself to guide us through valleys and mountains and plains. How thankful I am that He doesn’t leave us alone to figure out how to invest our talents. He will show us, every second of every day if that’s what we need.

So you’ll find me honoring God by saying “no” to lots of good things so that I can do the things He’s actually calling me to. You’ll find me honoring God by monitoring my energy and listening to my body and to my emotions. You’ll find me honoring God by asking Him for help every morning and thanking Him when He gives it — as a good Father delights to do.

*The situation as I see it, not as my husband sees it.

Think Near, Think Far

/ Elizabeth Trotter / Leave a comment

Do the next thing. It’s been a guiding principle in my life since I was a teenager. (Thank you, Elisabeth Elliot, for passing on the wisdom of the Poet.)

When I feel stuck, when I don’t know what to do next, when I face overwhelm or decision fatigue, these words come back to me: Do the next thing. 

– What is right in front of me, today? 
– What needs, whose needs, do I need to meet today?
– What is the next right thing? 
(That last one arrived in my life via author and spiritual director Emily P. Freeman.)

These questions are all about being sensitive to where the Spirit is leading me in this moment. They ask me to be present to people, to pay attention to what is going on around me right now. And they have helped me out of stuck places, confused places, anxious places.

I need to think near.

But if I’m not careful, thinking near can take up all my time and brain power, which is very much reduced right now in midlife.

So I also need to think far. 

I need time to contemplate. To envision the future, to imagine new paths, new projects. To let my soul settle and find that creative spark. To expand my understanding, to see with spiritual eyes. And to seek the best ways to use my limited energy.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 13:22, “The seed that fell among the thorns represents those who hear God’s word, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the worries of this life and the lure of wealth, so no fruit is produced.”

And in Luke 21:34-36a, He warns, “Watch out! Don’t let your hearts be dulled by carousing and drunkenness, and by the worries of this life. Don’t let that day catch you unaware, like a trap. For that day will come upon everyone living on the earth. Keep alert at all times.”

I know I can all too easily allow the message of grace to be crowded out by the worries of this life and so produce less fruit. I can all too easily let my heart be dulled by the worries of this life and become unable to see the bigger picture.

Taking the time to think far is the antidote to the worries of everyday life. It allows us to make long-term dreams and plans. It helps us to see the trials happening now in light of eternity and the sanctification God is forging in our life. And it gives us the sense of peace and calm to keep asking for and doing the next right thing.

So remember to think near. And remember to think far. But most of all, remember to think about the God who watches over near and far—the one who sings over us, the one who’s always with us, the one who whispers from behind and tells us the way we should go.