Work that Awakens

Working without filling yourself up is taxing. You know this. As someone who finds herself returning to the frantic hamster wheel again and again, I’ve been trying to get better at prying myself away from the grind. I still work hard and fast, but I also try to take my time. To dig for the hidden treasure I haven’t found yet. Whether it’s an email or social media caption or anything in between, I try to pause and get to the heart of the matter. My boss recently gave us a question she asks herself when writing, and it’s one that often rolls through my mind at my desk: What does the world need to hear?

But it’s hard to orient your mind around that question and to take it seriously if you’re at best, distracted, or at worst, running on empty. So I’ve thought about seeking inspiration from others like I used to—emails I subscribe to, brands I follow, Pinterest, etc. I don’t want to get stagnant in my writing, so surely seeing what other people are doing is the right way to go, right? Write quippy things! Stay fresh!

And while I think there’s place for that—and yes, I plan to dust off a few old Pinterest boards—I was reminded yesterday that true creativity and beauty and inspiration stem from something outside of ourselves. When we tap into something that’s hard to put into words, that stirs up the deep well waters within us, that gives us tastes of heaven—I think that’s the stuff worth chasing. That’s what we should have our hungry eyes peeled for. 

I had this revelation yesterday while looking through Michelle Garrels’ Instagram. Michelle is the wife of musician and preacher Josh Garrels (who has a video on inviting God into your work that I’ve watched approximately 10 times in the past year). Before I knew it, I was lost in Michelle’s account—reading her life-giving words and almost tearing up at the picture of her sweet kids. Part of that emotion stems from a place of longing—for a family and land and a garden of my own and goats. (Yes, goats.)

But it tuned a string in my heart. I can’t fully explain why, other than these small squares that give only a glimpse of the Garrels’ family life but in no way a full picture of it made something hidden and precious within me wake up. I think that “something” has to do with family, beauty, the satisfaction of growing or cooking or repairing through the work of your hands, the grace and humility required to learn hard and good things for the first time, the magic of a full table.

I’ve been rereading The Rest of God by Mark Buchanan (for the third or fourth time—I’ve lost count), and Buchanan talks a lot about these very things. His point is that restoring not just a Sabbath day, but a Sabbath attitude, helps us wake up, pay attention, and drink up the world. Basically, it’s hard to enjoy life’s gifts if we’re always moving, always chasing. Savoring them requires stillness, slowness, and rest. I could list a dozen quotes from Buchanan, but I’ll settle for this one:

This is a gift of God: to experience the sacred amidst the commonplace—to taste heaven in our daily bread, a new heaven and new earth in a mouthful of wine, joy in the ache of our muscles or the sweat of our brows.

The sacred. I love that.

All that to say, I think our work is our best when it draws from something beyond ourselves, when it sings to the tune of something otherworldly. And only then, in my writing and work, can I return to the very heart of the matter. Only then can I write words worth reading, worth the scroll, worth the pause in your day. 

So here’s to fixing our gaze upward. No matter what kind of work you’re rolling up your sleeves to accomplish today, here’s to tapping into the eternal, good things that are inscribed on each of our hearts. To creating work that glorifies and redeems and wakes people up.