"I got a rock," said Charlie Brown.

Every day for the last several months, as I pulled into and backed out of my driveway, I saw the same image: a pile of rocks. I've gone through a range of emotions, with these rocks.

When I decided to have them delivered earlier this year - because yes, this was an actionable choice that I made, once - I was surprised by how small the pile looked to me. Three tons of landscaping river rock sounds like a mountain! ...But the pile respectfully stayed on its side of my driveway, and only covered a third of its half (that's a sixth, for you math wizards out there 😉). "Are you sure this will be enough?" I remember asking my mom naively.

I've had some minor run-ins with landscaping before, so I knew it wasn't going to be a fun time, but I started out as enthusiastic for manual labor as I was capable of being. I began on section one of three with guidance from my mom. When the time came, I grabbed my shovel and a wheelbarrow borrowed from a neighbor, and anxiously braced myself. Let's do this!

I thrust the metal shovel into the middle of the pile of rocks, imagining a scoopful gently falling into the cup and filling it up. Instead, I heard an awful clang and met hard resistance. A handful of cooperative rocks nudged their way onto the very edge of the shovel... and that's it. Ok, I thought. I'll try harder. The rocks were stubborn. They don't naturally roll, as countless songs and artists would lead you to believe. Once they've settled, they're perfectly content to stay put.

My technique improved over time - as counterintuitive as it sounds, it's easiest to shovel rock from the bottom, where it meets the ground at concrete-level - but the task itself never got any easier. Rock is heavy, and dirty, and difficult. Too much in the wheelbarrow, and you can't maneuver it. Not enough, and it's wasted effort. When I finished with the first section that day, exhausted, sore, and covered in dirt, I looked back at the pile of rocks, and was disappointed to find that the pile didn't look much different to me from when I'd started. This was a terrible mistake.

A friend confirmed my worst fears, later on: "Did your rock pile get bigger since the last time I saw it?" 😟

Even as I recruited help for other sections, the pile of rocks remained a constant in my life: always there, taunting me. "You'll never finish," it said. "You'll always have more to work on." "We'll always be here, blocking your path and weighing you down." You're not enough.

I finished my landscaping, recently... but the pile of rocks remains. (There never should've been a question as to whether the pile was big enough, I see now.) From some angles, it looks deceptively small, but I know how much effort is involved in each scoop. I know how much of a burden it is, even at its smallest. It tortures me, that it's still there after I've put so much work into it already.

In a lot of ways, my experience with the pile of rocks mirrors my own sanctification process. My past, my sins, my fears, my worries, my natural tendencies that are preyed upon by the devil... this is my pile of spiritual rocks. Some days, they don't seem like that much. Is this it? Other days, they feel impossible and overwhelming. I try to chip away at them earnestly some times, and other times I just stare at them as I go about my life. Once in awhile, I look at them and question if the pile is actually getting bigger?! But every day they're there, and usually I find them discouraging, not a measure of how far I've come.

The difference between my actual pile of rocks and my spiritual one, though, comes down to Christ. I may be responsible for moving the rock in my driveway, but the rock in my heart will be moved by Jesus as my faith continues to grow in Him. I can try to move it all by myself - but it's really a fool's errand out of a desperate desire for control. The only effort that is truly required by me is trusting Christ to shovel my mess, one scoop at a time. That sounds too easy, and I don't do that perfectly - not even close - but I do keep trying to just trust.

Some day very soon, the pile of rocks will be gone from my driveway. I'll hose off the concrete, and I'll admire the absence of the rocks. I'll celebrate, and I'll remind myself not to start anymore landscaping projects for a long while. In time, I'll forget the rocks were ever there. There will be no trace of them, they won't be a stumbling block and an eyesore, and I won't remember the agony they caused me.

As long as I'm here on this earth, I think there will always be a spiritual pile of rocks (although I hope it keeps shrinking - even if I can't always tell). But I hope that's how I feel about these internal rocks someday, too: here today, but gone tomorrow. A distant memory, a faded image, gone without a trace. "Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are." Romans 8:18-19

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

As I sit here in front of my computer, desperately wanting to write but afraid that it's been so long that maybe I've forgotten how or lost my touch, I continue to wrestle with the one word that seems to follow me around and torment me wherever I go: should. It's like my shadow - I can't get rid of it, no matter how hard I try. And "should" frequently turns darker and heavier, the more time and thought I give it.

You should write a blog post. You haven't in awhile. Why do you even have a blog, if you're not going to write in it? What are you doing with your life?

You should do something productive today, like laundry, or cleaning, or landscaping work. It's not going to do itself. You wanted this. What will people think of you, if you can't keep up your house?

You should be happy. Things are finally looking up for you! You own your own home, you have a great job, you have amazing family and community and are developing the kind of close friendships you've desired for years. You have almost everything you've ever wanted... why can't you be content? What's wrong with you?

Sometimes, my "shoulds" push me to go just a little bit further, like someone training for a marathon. But more often than not, they show me all the ways I haven't measured up to expectations, like that student who gets 99/100 on an exam and can't celebrate the A for the sake of that one question they should have known the answer to. It's exhausting, never being enough. It's empty. It's "like chasing the wind," according to Ecclesiastes. And Solomon, the author, would know - he, too, eventually had everything, but came to the end of himself and instead of finding satisfaction, found discontent. "Everything is meaningless," he repeats over and over throughout the book.

We are hard-wired to seek perfection, because we were created in God's (perfect) image. Our souls long for it, because they were designed with perfection in mind. But even when we had it, back in the beginning, we weren't satisfied - we thought we wanted more, and the devil capitalized on that:

One day [the serpent] asked the woman, "Did God really say you must not eat the fruit from any of the trees in the garden?"

"Of course we may eat fruit from the trees in the garden," the woman replied. "It's only the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden that we are not allowed to eat. God said, 'You must not eat it or even touch it; if you do, you will die.'"

"You won't die!" the serpent replied to the woman. "God knows that your eyes will be opened as soon as you eat it, and you will be like God, knowing both good and evil."

The woman was convinced. She saw that the tree was beautiful and its fruit looked delicious, and she wanted the wisdom it would give her. So she took some of the fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it, too. Genesis 3:1-6

"Fantastic," I can hear you saying. "So I was created to crave perfection, but I can't achieve it, I'll never be satisfied, and everything is meaningless. Is that the point you're trying to convey? Isn't that hugely disappointing and discouraging?"

Well, yes. It is... if the story stopped there. But Jesus came, lived a perfect life in this imperfect world, and became a sacrifice for us because we aren't capable of meeting God's standards. His blood paid - and continues to pay - and will pay - for all our imperfections. So every time I feel like I'm not enough, and I "should" something else, I can remember that Christ is enough, so I don't have to be. And thank goodness for that, because I can't.

"Ah, ok," you say. "Then I don't have to do anything. No obligations!" ...Technically, if you believe in Christ, then yes. But my friend James says "faith without works is dead."

You say you have faith, for you believe that there is one God. Good for you! Even the demons believe this, and they tremble in terror. How foolish! Can't you see that faith without good deeds is useless? James 2:19-20

So no, I'm not saying there should be no more "shoulds." But the devil definitely still manipulates "should" from a healthy guilt into a false guilt to try to trap us. False guilt isn't true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, or admirable. It's instead focused around fear of disapproval. That doesn't benefit anyone, especially myself! Go back and re-read my "shoulds" from above - don't you see how they all spiraled into self-defeating lies?

Let's re-write them so they're based in truth:

You should write a blog post. You always have such rich insights to share with others, no matter the size of your audience. Your thoughts are valid and useful!

You should do something productive today, like laundry, or cleaning, or landscaping work. God has blessed you with such nice things, and it is good that you appreciate them and take care of them so diligently!

You should be happy. Things are finally looking up for you! You own your own home, you have a great job, you have amazing family and community and are developing the kind of close friendships you've desired for years. You have almost everything you've ever wanted! But it's ok to still struggle sometimes, even when things are going well. God will always meet you where you're at.

To close, a small bit of wisdom that allows us to come full circle: I can't make my shadow go away, but I notice it less if I focus my attention up at the light instead of down on myself. "Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." Colossians 3:2

Abuse can happen to anyone

I recently got out of an abusive relationship.

It's been a couple of months now. Honestly, I wasn't aware I had been in that kind of a relationship until a short time ago. Abuse has a way of blinding us to the truth.

It never got physical - but I think mental/emotional abuse can be just as traumatizing, if not more so. I don't think the relationship started out abusive, but it certainly became abusive.

He became increasingly more controlling over my time. "You were late... where were you? Don't do that. You need to tell me when something comes up!" ... But there were double standards. If he was ever late, it was no big deal. He never made time for me, but I was expected to make time for him.

He was constantly critical of me. I was never enough for him. I was rarely appreciated. There was always something I could be doing better, or something that needed more of my attention. I couldn't satisfy him, no matter how hard I tried. Sometimes, I was outright blamed for things that he had done wrong. Sometimes, he gaslighted me. I went out of my way to reassure him, but my needs were never important.

I became convinced that this was my fault, somehow. If I just tried harder, if I just devoted more time... I could make this work, and he would see my value. If I just did more, he would love me for all that I brought to the relationship. It was my responsibility to give this my all. I wasn't going to give up on us. We even tried a little bit of counseling. He was nice to me, for a little while.

I tried to talk to him. He listened. He even apologized, once, for making me feel the way that I did. He told me he would really think about everything I said. He promised more conversations. He said things would change. ... He never delivered.

I began to realize that this relationship was destructive... but I felt trapped. He had control over my finances. How could I leave? And if I could find a way, what if I ended up in a worse relationship? What if this was the best I could ever do, and I was giving it up? Was he really that bad? Better the devil you know, than the devil you don't.

Thank goodness I took a risk. Finally, I had had enough. I decided I couldn't stay in that relationship any longer. I remember the day I committed to telling him I was breaking up with him. My hands were trembling, and my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I told him we needed to talk. I said my piece. He was quiet, and calm - too calm. "Well, that sucks," he said. "But I understand."

That was it. There was no emotion behind it - like he was never that invested in our relationship in the first place. He tried to keep some of my personal belongings from me, but I wouldn't let him. We said goodbye. He offered me one final, cold platitude: that every time he had criticized me or pushed me harder, he was really showing me that he loved me. And then, I left.

I want to tell you that I danced home, after I got out. I would love to say I threw a party. But I didn't. No, I cried over the loss of that relationship. I know now that it wasn't real love, but it still hurt to lose him. I'm embarrassed to say that for a few days, I missed his company. I think it hurt worse, because he acted like it didn't bother him at all. After all this time, he just shrugged. I didn't mean as much to him as I thought.

Now, I know better. I've grown. With separation, came clarity: he was manipulating and controlling me. He was using me. He never had my best interests at heart. I was just a means to an end for him. And you know what? I deserve better. And there is better out there!

Moral of the story: don't stay in an abusive relationship. Get out. You are worth it. Don't settle for anyone who makes you feel 'less than.' It's not easy, but time really does heal all wounds.








Disclaimer: This isn't about a romantic relationship, but the framework applies all the same.