Change The World.

I’m not sure where it came from, but at some point in my life I took on this idea that I have to go and change the world. Not just theoretically speaking, but a real expectation of myself - and that if I don’t accomplish that one ‘simple’ goal, then I have wasted my life. 

Perhaps you can relate, or maybe you think I’m being ridiculous. We have all heard these three little words said somewhere, probably by a teacher, a pastor, a parent, a book, or just a voice in the back of your head. Most of you are likely reasonable people, and have taken them and translated them into a broader more realistic idea: “Achieve something great.” But I heard those words and begun to burden myself with the responsibility of seeing the world be significantly transformed by my hands alone. The voice that told me to go and change the world somehow crept into some deep little nook in my mind and began threatening consequences and condemning even the notion of failure. I could not be a bystander, a procrastinator, an apathetic. There was no room for passivity.

Now, please hear me. I believe we should make a difference in the world, that we can. My greatest hope as a mum is to be a living example of pursuing your dreams and loving big. But to live with the pressure of changing the world? That is a lot. And in case any of you have been under the same heavy yolk as I - that is too much, and that pressure is not yours to carry. 

Without listing off achievements, spouting off my resumé and tooting my own horn, I think I’ve done a lot with my twenty-nine years on earth. Some of these achievements certainly carry no eternal weight (i.e. my 4th grade academic award, completing a multitude of Sudoku books, etc.). However, between ministry and missions and music, I think a few years ago I would have looked at my life and definitely declared with confidence that I was well on my way to changing the world. 

But I’m telling you. I was tired. And hurting. And also a little broke. (Not the point, but unfortunately true).

When I landed in San Antonio in 2022 after leaving a ministry I began with some friends, I walked right into ‘sloooow’. I had nothing on my plate. No job to show up for, no relationships to maintain, no album in the works, no expectations on me. And I was so uncomfortable. I was overwhelmed with this frantic anxiety inside of me, terrified that I wasn’t doing enough. I was guilty of stopping, and I had no idea how to kick things into gear again and find purpose in my life without some big obvious ministry to take care of.

I wrestled with this feeling in me for months - and then, moment by moment, I started to fall in love with these strange and small and beautiful things in my life. I began to take time to enjoy the sunset quietly with my love. I lit candles at the dinner table. I read the books I had always wanted to read. I went for long walks and had long conversations. And I did these things without them even being on my to-do list. 

I noticed something shifting, and looking back I began to recognise a dissonance. I was supposed to be changing the world - but the world is full of people that just need someone to show up for them - and I was far too busy for that. I was so crippled by the fear that my life would be void of purpose, that I was limping away from every opportunity to make something of it. Those world-changing opportunities weren’t in a ten-year plan or a new campaign, but in people hurting and lonely that I was too tired to make time for. They were my brother who called me on his way to work, and I didn’t feel like talking. They were the friend that needed celebrating, and it was too inconvenient. And even in the best most personal and intentional plans where I gave people the care they needed, they were still a means to an end of my big, high and mighty goal. 

I missed the point, I missed the people, while I was chasing after the legacy. Look at all of the moments I rushed by, running past the best days of my life. 

God is not just glorified in our works, an organisation built or a mission accomplished, but in our pausing and recognising his beauty in everything, seeing him at work in our days, beautifying the ordinary, shining through the mundane. I started to open my eyes to look for the glory, and I saw it peeking through the blinds in the morning as I lay in bed with my husband asleep beside me. I heard it as I told my dad I loved him on the phone, and the moment didn’t slip by and waste away. I felt him, when I stopped, and when I stayed, he did too. He wasn’t in a hurry with me, and he showed me that there is glory in taking the time. 

I’m learning to let go of the need to change the world, and to find my purpose in enjoying the beauty of God. And maybe if I enjoy him with all that I am, change will come.