This month, our Spiritual Formation exercise (assigned by our fabulous Spiritual Director, Laura Heagy) is “Psalm 23 Reloaded.” It involves memorizing the psalm, dwelling on it, and reframing it in other terms. Really great, if you want to play along at home! 😉

As I was exploring the psalm the other day, taking it line by line, something jumped out at me that I’d never considered before. I don’t know about you, but sometimes these familiar, memorized passages just blur into routine in my mind, so these practices of taking time with them, slowing down, and examining them piece by piece, word by word and phrase by phrase, can be so enriching! Let’s look at these lines, in the NABRE version:

He guides me along right paths
   for the sake of His name.
Even though I walk through the valley
   of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
   your rod and your staff comfort me.

I had never before paid attention to the order of this image, but let’s take a look. This is our Good Shepherd. He has already led us to the choices, lushest grass in the meadow. He’s let us refresh ourselves by crystal-clear pools of clean, cool water. This has refreshed us and restored, has filled us up.

But then we start moving. We don’t stay in that pasture. We never get the chance to stagnate when we’re following after our Shepherd. He leads us onward, just as a shepherd will always lead his sheep out of any good grazing ground, knowing it won’t stay good for long if you just hunker down. So He guides us out of that peaceful place, along the path of righteousness. The right path. Why? For the sake of His name.

He’s not leading us onward just for our own comfort or pleasure. He’s leading us because we have a purpose. We have a job to do, and it’s bringing glory to Him. Our purpose, our calling, is to show the world how great is our God. So we walk. We move. We chase after Him. He takes us up on a narrow mountain path.

And it’s dangerous, my friends. That valley–it’s going to involve trials. Temptations. Predators. Dangers.

Because this isn’t a tame faith, and we don’t serve a tame God. He’s a God who led the Israelites into the Wilderness; whose own Son spent 40 days there too. This wild, untamed God calls us onward into hard things. Painful things. Dangerous things. Where there are wolves and landslides and always, always the risk of falling.

We WILL be there, in that place. But when we are, we don’t have to fear.

Because our Shepherd is there too. He has a rod in hand–and do you know why shepherds carried rods? To ward off those predators. They would use them to kill wolves or lions or whatever other animals threatened their sheep.

Our Shepherd still does the same. When we stick close to His side, we don’t have to fear the predators. He can take care of us.

We may fall though. Either stumble through sin and temptation, or just slip off the road because of circumstance. We may tumble off the ledge, down toward that valley. We may think all is lost.

But He’ll catch us. That’s what the staff is for–that’s how shepherds pull their sheep back to safety. They hook the end around the creature and tug.

That is our comfort. Not that He’ll lead us where no dangers or pain exists, not that He’ll even remove us from those circumstances when they come upon us–but that He’ll be there with us through them. He leads us into them…and He’ll lead us out of them again, eventually. But first we have to pass through. We have to trust that He’ll defend, protect, and rescue.

But we have to stick close to His side. Don’t let the Shepherd out of your sight, friends. Stay close, within the reach of His staff. Where you can hear His voice.

And rest peacefully, knowing that hard, difficult, dangerous path is leading you rightly, toward righteousness. And that goodness and mercy aren’t away off in the distance. They’re chasing after you–pursuing you.

They’ll catch you, friend. I promise you that. Because where our Savior is, there is mercy…peace…goodness…and the house where we will dwell with joy forever.

Allelujah. Amen.

The other day, my husband and I were talking about the challenges of following God, of growing in Him, even of spiritual warfare.

“It’s hard.” That’s what so many people say. That’s what I’ve said many times. And it’s true, isn’t it?

Being a good Christian is hard. Choosing the right thing every . . . single . . . time is hard. Putting others above yourself is hard. Remembering in every moment to think of God’s will above your own is—you guessed it—hard.

But as we were talking, David had an observation that really resonated with me.

It’s hard because we make it hard, because we refuse to give up control. Because we think we have to be the one doing all the work. It’s hard because we want to hang on to our own will, not fully relinquish it to God.

It’s hard because we think we have to fight the battle under our own strength. Put on that Armor of God and charge into the fray, just hoping He’ll have our back.

David pointed out, though, that it doesn’t have to be that way at all. Certainly not all the time. He made this analogy, and it’s one I love.

All we really have to do is be a kid dancing with our daddy. We have to step up onto His feet. We have to put our hands in His, or even wrap them around His waist. And then we just have to let Him dance.

Isn’t that a powerful image? We don’t have to fight every minute of the day. We don’t have be weighed down and burdened by the challenges. True surrender to God’s will doesn’t mean punishment or drudgery or even a constant feeling of sacrifice (though of course, there is sacrifice in following Him above our own desires).

True surrender looks a lot like the trust of a child dancing with Daddy. True alignment of will looks like putting our feet on His, our hands in His. And then . . . then living this Christian life looks a lot like a dance. It feels a lot like laughter and joy and security and peace.

Because we know that He knows the steps. We know that He’ll move us exactly where we need to go. We know that when we’re so fully aligned with Him, He actually does the work—we just need to stay there, doing it with Him. We need to make sure we don’t stumble off onto our own path or take our fingers away from His.

And we need to keep looking up at His face. That’s the sweetest thing about being a child dancing with Daddy, right? The way they tilt their faces up to regard their loving Father. That’s how they keep from falling away.

That’s how we do the same.

Keep looking up into His precious face. Keep hanging on to His nail-pierced hands. Keep your feet firmly planted on his swift-moving ones. And feel the rhythm of the dance of grace.

It’s November. Every November, as I scroll through social media or blogs, I see people posting about what they’re grateful for. Thankful for. People taking the whole month to appreciate all they’ve been given from the Lord. Beautiful, obviously!

But you know…sometimes I see or hear those same people doing something we all fall into so easily, even during a month of gratitude: COMPLAINING.

I very nearly titled this post “Hey, you–yeah, YOU–stop complaining!” … but I wasn’t sure it would come through that I was talking to myself as much as you, LOL. But I totally am. Because here’s the thing, friends: complaining is addictive.

Seriously. It releases one of those chemicals into your brain, and it also elicits responses from people–either they jump on board with the complaining (bonding!) or they argue, but either way, it feeds our need to be seen and heard and to engage with others.

Complaining can sometimes help us articulate a problem and, hence, find a solution to it. Sometimes stating, “Man, I’m tired,” can mean, “I should probably stop working now and rest before I make a mistake,” or “Wow, I’ve put in a hard day’s work today!” Sometimes, when I say I’m sore, what I’m really saying is that I need to take a few minutes to stretch. There is simple observation…

But how often do we instead use our complaints as a constant lens through which we view the world? How often do we go looking for what we disapprove of in a situation, instead of focusing on the good?

Just think over your latest conversations. Food, politics, religion, your car, your work, your clothes, your family…how much of your focus on these topics was on the negative? Sure, we can be grateful we have all those things, but if we then turn around and pick it apart, are we really exhibiting the gratitude and thanksgiving that God calls us to offer up to Him?

In a book of efficiency called Effortless, the author had caught himself in a pattern of complaining so issued himself a simple challenge: every time he complained out loud, he had to put a dollar in a jar. Well, he soon curbed the spoken words, so then it was every time he thought about complaining, he put the money in. Pretty soon, he’d stopped even thinking complaints. Every time something came up that would usually have made him grumble, he consciously reframed it. Maybe into a mere observation: So maybe, “She is late AGAIN” turned into “Huh, that’s the third time this week she’s been late” and then–here’s the real trick–into a compassionate response like “I wonder why she’s late again? Are her days stressful? Is there anything I can do to help her with that?”

This month, I’m going to be issuing myself a challenge, and I’d love it if some of you would join me. Let’s turn our complaining into compassion and our grumbling into gratitude! Every time we think or speak a complaint, let’s pause and reframe it into something positive–something to be grateful for. Let’s stop being put out by people and start trying to help them.

My example: when walking along the beach with my best friend in September, I observed, “Man, it’s crowded out here! I hate crowded beaches.” We’d just been talking about complaining, so we laughed and immediately reframed it to: “Isn’t it great that so many people are out with their families enjoying God’s creation? It’s pretty awesome that I get to be here sharing that with them too.”

To help us all out with that, I’ve even created a little printable mini-journal. To help us develop the habit, let’s keep this with us and jot down our complaints–and more importantly, our reframing of them into a praise–throughout the month. I bet as the weeks wears on, we’ll find fewer and fewer occasions to use it…because we’ll stop complaining in general!

What things or topics tend to evoke the most complaints in your conversation? How can you check that impulse?