The Gifts of Worrying

I’m a worrier. Anyone who knows me know that about me. It’s my natural inclination to dwell on the “What if?” questions and the long list of things that could potentially go wrong in any situation. It’s a part of who I am.

In some ways, this is a blessing. It forces me to think things through a little more carefully, to avoid pitfalls, and to go about my life in a more safe and efficient way. There is a healthy way to use this aspect of my personality.

But sometimes, I let my worry get the best of me. When I don’t keep my tendency towards worrying in check, it can take over. And when it does, it brings me a few… well, let’s call them “gifts.”

Stress

I like to compare my worried self to a big ball of stress. When you’re nearby, you can just feel the anxiety radiating off of me. I’m undergoing inner turmoil, and it just consumes me. The littlest hiccups become causes for despair. I can’t focus on anything because my mind is completely full of the long list of things that are going wrong or that could go wrong, and I am very unpleasant to be around. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Frustration

Usually, my worry stems in one way or another from my preconceived plans going awry: the schedule is off or someone has a different idea than I do or I have no control at all over what’s happening. And in my mind, a deviation from my plans is an objective evil. I lose all patience because I’m dissatisfied and just want things to go my way. I start to form grudges against people who I would normally give the benefit of the doubt and probably haven’t actually wronged me anyway, and my internal dialogue becomes downright mean. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Ineffectiveness

Too much inward focus leaves little room for outward effectiveness. When I’m worried, I get so in my head that I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing, much less perform at my best. Nothing stifles my creativity or efficiency more than worry. In an attempt to get things back on track, I become counterproductive and usually end up creating even more work for myself. I do not perform well under the pressure I put myself under. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Fatigue

If you struggle with worry the way I do, you understand the pure exhaustion that comes with it. After spending every ounce of energy I have on being stressed, getting frustrated, and futilely working to make things the way I want them to be, I completely run out of energy. This happens much more quickly than it would if I were simply focused on the task at hand. But since I’m pouring all of my energy into my own internal dialogue, I have little—if any—left for things outside myself. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Relief

At some point, though, worry will dissipate. Whether things go the way I think they should or not, I eventually get through whatever it is that’s causing me to fret. And on the other side, I always discover that my situation is so much better than I imagined it would be. Many of the things I feared in the meantime never came about, and the reality I’m faced with is actually quite pleasant, even though it isn’t exactly what I had planned. When worry goes away, I am left feeling ten pounds lighter. I can breathe much more easily. And life seems so much brighter. This is a gift that worry brings me.

Though the gift of relief might sound appealing, it’s really an inferior consolation prize. When I go down the route of worry, I have to endure the stress, frustration, ineffectiveness, and fatigue in order to get to the relief and the happy ending that accompany it. That’s a lot to go through.

What if, instead, I chose a different path? Rather than pushing so hard against the circumstances surrounding me, what if I simply accepted them? Worked within them? Maybe even learned to appreciate the good things about them? Maybe then, I wouldn’t have to go through so much just to get to the good part afterwards. Maybe then, I could enjoy the journey rather than suffer through it just to get to the end. Maybe that would be a better gift than the ones worry offers me.

If you’re like me, worry is a constant temptation, a borderline addiction, a vicious cycle. But as I have to remind myself often, there is a better way. We can choose to become less worrisome and more accepting of our circumstances. Because the gifts of worry are not gifts at all. The real gift is this life we’ve been given and the ability to we have to enjoy it with those we care about. Worriers, we would do well to do a little more of that and a little less of the worrying we’ve become accustomed to.

Social Butterfly Blooming

It’s no secret that I’m an introvert. I tend to be quiet, to keep myself, and to prefer my home over any other place on earth. That’s how I’m wired, and I consider it a blessing. However, introversion is not exactly a beneficial trait in my line of work. When your job is so people-oriented, you have to be… social.

Socializing was never my strong point growing up. I wasn’t a loaner by any means, but I didn’t venture outside the bubble of my friend group very often. This was true through high school, college, and even seminary. I always had friends and knew how to act in social situations (for the most part). But meeting new people and talking to strangers just wasn’t my thing.

I always wondered how this aspect of my personality would mesh with my career in ministry. And then, my ministry career started.

When I first began working at the church, I became socially exhausted very easily. I wasn’t used to being around people all day long. I was accustomed to the long periods of quiet, solo study time that came with being a graduate student. But at work, I was constantly talking to people: my coworkers, church members, random strangers who would walk in. It was a lot to handle.

Recently, though, I realized that all of this social exposure actually has the opposite effect on me now. I no longer fear talking to strangers (not even on the phone, which used to be terrifying). Chatting with coworkers is energizing to me, even uplifting. And I love greeting any and every church member I see with a smile. Honestly, I feel like a different person.

Which got me thinking about how I got here. What changed, whether inside of me or outside, that allowed me to become so much more socially capable? What was the secret, unseen element that allowed me to adapt to my new situation?

Here, I think, is the key: security. Once I started to feel more secure in my new environment, my social network, and the actual work that I was doing, I was able to put some of my energy elsewhere. Not having to constantly worry about what to expect when I came in to work or whether or not I was doing a good job freed me up to grow in new ways.

I didn’t even have to be all that intentional about it. Because I was in a good place, I was naturally able to excel and to improve my skills in areas where I was lacking. Over time, I grew into the person I need to be in order to succeed in the role I’m in. And all of it was possible because I felt secure in my environment.

If we’re going to become our best selves, and if we’re dedicated to helping others do the same, we must make creating a sense of security one of our top priorities. When someone is worried about their safety, unable to plan for the future, or overly concerned about measuring up to some impossible standard, they simply cannot be all that they are meant to be. Security is a basic building block of growth. That was true for me, it’s true for you, and it’s true for those we want to help as well.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m still an introvert through and through. I love my solitude, and I still hide away from people when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I can’t change who I am, but what I can do is grow and become the best version of myself possible. I’m always working to do that, and I hope you are, too. The first step is establishing a sense of security. It’s the solid foundation that we can start building on, and once we have that, there’s no telling how far we’ll go.

One For All

I’ve always been interested in ethics. How do human beings, both individually and collectively, decide what is right and what is wrong? How do we know what should be considered good? And what happens if—or, more likely, when—we don’t agree? Who gets to decide? It’s a fascinating topic to observe.

We know the world can be a difficult place to live in, often more so for some than for others. Life is hard, and it isn’t fair. But fortunately, we’ve each been given a certain amount of influence over the quality of life on this planet. We don’t have to simply accept things as they are. Through various means, we have the ability to make a difference, to decide how the world is going to work. So how do we know what to do?

The most common answer I’ve heard is that the right decision in any given situation is the one which does the most good for the most people. This seems like a fine approach at first. If the goal is simply to create the most good, then this is the way to go. But after generations of trying this method over and over, we’ve found that it does have its flaws.

Because there are still those who don’t fall under the category of “most people.” Minorities of all kinds. The oppressed. Those whose needs society has simply decided don’t matter. These individuals don’t benefit from the “most good for the most people” approach. Instead, they get left behind to silently suffer the very evils that we’re trying to protect humanity from. Even if a decision makes the world better for 99% of people, it hardly seems fair to move forward if it makes life unbearable for even the smallest faction.

The “most good for the most people” mentally works great until you find yourself outside of the scope of its favor. Maybe you’ve never been there. To be honest, I don’t know that I have. But I do know people who have certainly fallen through the cracks, and it’s a terrible place to be. Creating the most good is a noble venture, but if it isn’t creating good for all, then it isn’t creating good at all.

In the face of this reality, some might give up on the endeavor completely. If we can’t find a way to help everyone, why bother helping anyone? Many have come to the conclusion that what’s right is simply whatever is best for them and those they care about, usually those most like them. This approach makes sense from a strictly pragmatic point of view, and it is how many people use the influence they’re given. But ultimately, it comes from a place of selfishness, which has no potential to positively impact the world and only leads to isolation. And in light of the fact that other people are people just like you and me, it seems that no person concerned with morality could actually make decisions from this perspective.

People of faith tend to claim that their understanding of right and wrong is of divine origin and thus perfect and universal. As a devout Christian myself, I do affirm the tenants of the Christian faith and believe that the world would be a better place were they put into practice fully. However, there are some problems that arise from taking this approach to solving ethical issues.

Firstly, all people are hypocrites. I don’t know why, but human beings have this baffling ability to claim that we believe one thing while simultaneously doing the exact opposite of that thing. Principles like love, peace, and grace are all beautiful and powerful, but when we fail to allow those principles to dictate our real-world actions, then we aren’t living out what we claim to believe, and there’s a huge disconnect between our faith and our real-world ethics.

Secondly, the world is a big, diverse place with a lot of different belief systems. No one religion is universal, and the very nature of faith dictates that it must be a choice. Religious beliefs and the moral actions that come as a result of them cannot be forced upon anyone. And so, it would be difficult to use any one faith (even if you believe it to be the one true faith) as the standard for ethical decision-making across the world. Regardless, any time religion mixes with power, the results are disastrous anyway.

That is not to say that our faith should not inform and influence our ethics, nor that we shouldn’t bring our faith with us when we come together to make decisions on a grand scale. At its best, faith makes us into better people, and so we must rely on it to help us make the right decisions. But a universal ethic of right and wrong can’t simply come from one group or another; we have to get there together.

A truly ethical approach to decision-making takes into account not just the needs of the majority, the benefit of the self, or the beliefs of a single group. Rather, the logical endpoint of every ethical question is that for something to be good, it must be good for everyone. Every person is a person, and every person must be considered.

I‘m not audacious enough to claim that I have all of the answers to the world’s problems. What I do have is an idea for a new starting point: What if, rather than coming from a place of scarcity, we approached the world’s problems from a place of abundance?

Because the truth is that there is enough. There’s enough money. There’s enough food. There’s enough work. There’s enough joy. There’s enough comfort. There’s enough fulfillment. There’s enough for all of us to have enough.

Far too often, we see life as a zero-sum game. If someone else gets more of something, that means I have less. But that simply isn’t the case. There’s more than enough of what we need in the world for everyone to survive, to thrive, to be all that they’re meant to be—and then some. And when we willingly sacrifice some of our abundance so that someone else can simply have enough, we aren’t losing anything at all. We’re taking our extra and turning it into someone’s enough, and in doing so, we’re creating good. Isn’t that worth so much more?

We are all in this together. We create barriers between people, families, races, nations, and more, and these boundaries are helpful to an extent. But if we aren’t careful, we can allow these human-made lines to trick us into thinking that they’re real, and the truth is that they’re not. We are all here together on this planet as one big group, and when any part of that group suffers, we all suffer because the greater good is diminished. The ultimate goal of ethics is the ultimate, big-g Good, and that means good for every last person we share this life with.

The solution to the world’s problems is not all for one. It’s not some for some. It’s not even most for most. It’s one for all, and that isn’t an idealistic dream. It’s a reality that we can create if we—each of us—choose to use our influence to make it so. May we make it so.

It’s All Happening

What do you do when everything you’ve been planning and dreaming of suddenly comes true? That’s the question I’ve been asking myself lately. I took some time off writing to focus on some major life changes: closing on a house, getting married, moving. These are things I’ve wanted my whole life and been planning for many, many months. And now, here they are.

We spend so much of our lives striving for things. Striving for a better job. Striving for a fulfilling relationship. Striving for the right living situation and the right body and the right self-esteem. It feels like we’re always reaching and preparing for something more. At least, that’s been my experience these past 26 years.

But now, for the first time ever, I feel a sense of completeness. I don’t mean feeling complete in myself; I’ve always felt complete no matter my situation. But a feeling that the goals I’ve been working towards all of this time are now completed. Top-notch education: check. Dream job: check. Buying a house: check. Finding and marrying the right person: check. These are the things I always thought of “somedays” that I was working towards. Now, someday is today, and it’s all so very real.

I’m not saying all of this to brag. I recognize that I don’t deserve to be where I am. I put in a lot of hard work to get here, but all of the work in the world couldn’t earn the happiness and contentment that I feel. I’m blessed beyond measure, because only the grace of God and a lot of other wonderful, loving people could have gotten me where I find myself now. No, I’m not boastful, but thankful.

In the midst of that thanks, though, is a temptation. A temptation to go back to my old ways of striving. Because there’s so much left to do: become a parent, save for retirement, leave a legacy, and more. If I’m not careful, my tendency is to jump right back into the mindset of setting and working towards more goals rather than enjoying my current situation.

So what am I supposed to do now that I have the things I’ve wanted for so long? I’m supposed to stop, to breathe, and to savor every last bit of it. To resist the urge to strive. To live completely in the present and not worry about the future too much. It’ll come, surely enough. It always does. But now—right now—all I want to do is enjoy the best season of my life thus far. To hold my wife close, spend quality time with family (new and old), and grow deep roots in my new home.

I understand that this is a short, rare time of life, and that’s why I’m doing everything I can to protect it and cherish it for as long as possible. If you’re ever fortunate enough to find yourself in a similar place, I hope you’ll do the same. Striving is honorable for a time, but once you get what you’ve been striving for, maybe you should consider stopping for a bit. That’s what I’m doing now, and I couldn’t possibly enjoy it more.

Liminal

A liminal space is the area between what’s happened and what’s to come. It’s a time of transition and change. It’s that period when you can feel that something new is coming, but it’s not quite here yet. When you find yourself sort of in the middle, already past where you’ve been but not yet able to start the next big thing.

It’s a fluid time without a solid foundation. The habits, rules, strategies, and categories you’ve used before no longer work for you, but you haven’t found new ones yet. So you’re basically just winging it, trying to figure it all out. Everything’s sort of unclear and undefined.

It can be a little jarring, but you also recognize it as a time of growth. Because you need the time to fully let go of your old way of doing things before it’s time to learn a completely new one. It’s a necessary time, and one that can be really meaningful if you let it.

I’ve often found myself in liminal spaces, and now, here I am again. This phase of my life has been a foundational transition for me, and I’m still waiting to see when exactly I’ll break out into the other side. But as I navigate this time in all of its liminality, I’m trying to keep up some basic practices to ensure I get the most out of it.

Appreciating the Past

Moving on doesn’t undermine the value of what’s come before. I couldn’t be more thankful for where I’ve been. Every connection, every lesson, and every experience has helped make me who I am today and prepare me for the future. The past is never really gone, after all. Even as I grow, I will carry all of that with me, as well as my deep appreciation for it.

Liminal spaces are an especially appropriate time to consider one’s history, its value, and its lasting effects. There are so many things that we can learn from our experiences, but only through appreciative reflection. Even if the past isn’t a particularly enjoyable time to recollect, there is still value in recognizing it rather than rejecting it. We can move on from what’s happened before, but we can never erase it, nor should we try to.

Anticipating What’s Ahead

I’m a planner. I love to come up with agendas, checklists, and schedules for different areas of my life. But I’m also a dreamer, and I get so much joy out of simply imagining the possibilities for the way things could turn out. I think that liminal spaces have room for both. It’s always good to have goals and plans to accomplish those goals, but the future’s also a mystery, and that can be a really exciting thing.

While the past is a source of learning, the future is a source of energy. What keeps us going through the liminal spaces is the promise that on the other side awaits something more wonderful than anything we’ve experienced before. Who knows? It might even be better than we imagine. When we go in with a plan and the flexibility that comes with dreaming, we set ourselves up for success on the journey that lies ahead.

Cherishing Every Moment

But the liminal space itself has a lot to offer. It doesn’t have to be a time of impatience or feeling stuck. Really, liminality is a gift. It’s an opportunity to slow down and enjoy one’s life before the change comes and everything speeds back up again. You’ll never have more time—or at least feel like you do—than when you’re in the in-between, and if you choose to enjoy it, it can be very meaningful.

The moments I’m having with my family and friends in this phase of life will soon become memories that I’ll always treasure. I’ve really tried to take this opportunity to let people know how much they mean to me, how much they’ve impacted me, and how glad I am to have them in my life as I get ready for everything ahead of me. They say the present is a gift, and I understand that more now than ever. As my life is about to change, I’m choosing to cherish every last moment I get with those I love, because things will soon never be the same.

Seeking a New Normal

Liminal spaces aren’t meant to last forever. This one will soon come to an end. When it does, I’m going to settle into a new routine with new experiences and new opportunities for growth and enrichment. After this time of transition, I’m looking forward to a new normal. I get to build a new foundation for this phase of life. I can make it whatever I choose, and I simply can’t wait.

Liminality is fun, but we can’t cling to it. There’s a certain thrill that comes with being in-between, and it’s temporarily enjoyable. But nothing beats the fulfillment and security that come from digging deep, growing roots, and doing life with people. That’s the reward that lies on the other side of the liminal space.

Life is a series of phases and transitions. No phase lasts forever, no transition lasts for too long, and that’s the way it should be. If you, like me, are in a liminal space right now, I hope you’ll take the time to practice these principles I’ve laid out above. I know they’ve made this an incredibly meaningful experience for me. Thank you to everyone who’s playing a part in this fun time of my life, and thank you for reading. I’ll see you on the other side of this transition.