And single woman, I want to warn you against assuming—just because you’re single—that you’re off the hook on this topic. Some of the busiest, most overwhelmed people I know are single. Without the built-in personal restraints a married woman might have, you might not be careful enough to keep from overextending yourself. You’re going to bed late and waking up even earlier the next day. You’re busier than any one person should be, showing up at a lot of activities but often unable to offer your best because you’re so tired all the time, losing your grip on your primary callings. More critically, you’re setting a precedent that will follow you into marriage. Engaging in good self-care now will help you develop a habit that continues to benefit you throughout your life.
I’ve often heard that the best gift a couple can give their children is a healthy marriage. And yet with the daily demands of parenting, one of the hardest things to do is to spend time with your husband, building your friendship, enjoying your partnership, keeping the passion alive. The same is true for you as a woman. The best gift you can give those you love is to take care of yourself, even though it can be one of the hardest things for you to prioritize.
And yet by running yourself ragged, trying to do everything morning till night, you’re in essence trying to be God. Overwork is a form of unbelief. You’re saying through your actions that you don’t believe He can take care of everything, meaning you’re on the hook for it. But playing God is exhausting. After all, He’s the only One up to the job.
So take a step back from your life, take a fresh look at it, and ask yourself:
“When will I put on my oxygen mask so I can . . . bre-e-e-eathe?”
• By signing this resolution, you are choosing not to allow perfectionism to rule your life. You are determining, rather, to consider carefully what God has prioritized for you in this season of life, and then examine the unique qualities you’ve been given to bring to those tasks. You are accepting this resolution as an invitation to become fully engaged in today’s assignment and bring all of yourself into every one. You will no longer see taking care of yourself as something to be ashamed of but a requirement to enable you to better serve others. Consider your notes from the pervious chapters, and then make your resolution with confidence.
MY BEST
I will seek to devote the best of myself, my time, and my talents to the primary roles the Lord has entrusted to me in this phase of my life.
__________
MY BLESSING
A resolution to esteem others with my time, concern, and full attention
The Gift
On the heels of receiving my undergraduate degree, I began working as an independent contract speaker for the Zig Ziglar Corporation. Those were good, formative years for me, filled with unique opportunities to sit under the tutelage of some amazing presenters. I was the young one of the bunch, so I took great care when watching these much more seasoned communicators, studying what they did with their hands, how they made effective use of the stage, how they engaged an audience.
I especially recall listening to one of the eldest and most accomplished speakers on our team deliver a message I’d heard him share a million times before. I could probably have told you every word he was going to say before he said it. Yet at the end of his talk, something he mentioned affected me in a way it had never touched me before. Right before taking his seat after an hour-long presentation, he lowered his voice, looked squarely into the eyes of his audience, and said, “I’m aware that the greatest gift you can ever give someone is the gift of your own time. Thank you for giving me that gift today.”
Time. Listening.
A gift.
I’ve never forgotten that. In fact, I keep this awareness at the forefront of my mind each time I stand on a platform in front of a listening audience. When people give you their ear, they are offering you a sliver of their life they can never retrieve again—one of the few gifts that can never be returned or retracted.
But this dynamic is not only true of an audience listening to a speaker. It’s true of any person who lends her ear to another individual. And we are in that position every day—the opportunity to envelop ourselves in someone else’s conversation, to suppress the clamor of our own thoughts and schedule, to focus our full attention on other people, giving them an offering of the rarest kind. The gift of ourselves. The gift of our time.
The gift of listening.
Think of it. When was the last time somebody really listened to you? Not the last time you talked but the last time you felt you were really heard. It’s highly probable that these two occasions were not one and the same. You may not even be able to easily recall a recent moment when you experienced that special sense of knowing that someone was all there, all yours, intent on hearing what you had to say. But once you transport yourself back to that time, seeing the attentive eyes of that other person, you’ll be looking into the face of someone you deeply appreciate, someone who truly knows how to make a person feel valued and accepted, loved and affirmed.
Why?
That’s just what the gift of listening does. What starts with one gift spins off into others—the gifts of self-worth, significance, personal satisfaction. The kind of gifts we all want to be known for giving.
But oh, how uncommon they are. How rarely we receive them, much less give them. Most of the time we’re so focused on ourselves and preoccupied with our own feelings, every conversation becomes ultimately about us and how we’re being affected. We’re parsing what the other person is saying, interpreting as we go, trying to fix whatever problem she’s presenting, jumping in at every possible opening with our own attempts to turn the attention back to us, our experiences, and our opinions. Even if we have good intentions, even when we try really hard to make ourselves listen, we have a hard time keeping it up for long. And every time our focus lags, we translate to the other person a disinterest not only in what she’s talking about but in herself as a person.
Truly, what we say by not listening says a lot.
Which is precisely why this simple yet profoundly difficult discipline is such a source of extreme blessing to others. When someone is able to know, during whatever few moments we’re present with her, that we esteem and honor who she is—few things mean as much.
Don’t the people in your life deserve this blessing? Your husband? Your children? Your parents? Your friends? To feel strengthened and encouraged just by being around you? Even without being able to give them money, or an ideal solution to their questions, or a job offer to ease their worry and desperation, you can still cause them to sense a gentle strength and empowerment in your presence. Whether friends or family members or even strangers—people you could just as easily pass by in your hurry to get from place to place—looking them in the eye can be a blessing you share throughout the day. Every day.
Jesus must have known the power of this blessing. He made a habit of bestowing it on the most insignificant, unnoticed people of His day. Jesus—the only true know-it-all ever to walk the earth, who legitimately had no good reason for listening to a single word from anyone—chose on many occasions to stop, to wait, to listen, to give attention to another before speaking Himself, even when the other person was misinformed or even spouting blasphemy.
He listened to the clever dodges and smokescreens of the woman at the well (John 4:4–30). He listened to Peter and the other disciples indignantly boasting that they would never deny or desert Him (Matthew 26:31–35). He listened to the call of an individual blind man, even over the mournful roar of human need on a crowded street near Jericho (Luke 18:35–43).
We should hardly be surprised. This is so consistent with His character. Throughout the Scriptures we see God listening to His people. Listening to the accusatory sentiments of a discouraged, impatient prophet (Habakkuk 1:1–11). Listening to the delineated questions of a man suffering unexplained misery (Job 3:1–26). Listening to the many excuses mapped out by Moses for why he was uniquely unqualified for locking horns with Phara
oh (Exodus 3:1–4:13). Listening to the whining tirade of a bitter, unbecoming man of God (Jonah 4:1–11).
Listening is one of the most significant ways He blesses us. Therefore, quite predictably, it’s one of the key ways we can bless others.
So choose to listen. Resist the urge to criticize, insult, laugh, or make sarcastic remarks. Battle the press of time and urgency and the hunger to get away. Just lean in, quietly, emphatically, purposefully.
And listen.
It’s your gift. Your blessing.
Give it to whomever you can.
• What is the most difficult part of listening for you?
• Recall the last time you genuinely felt heard. Make a list of some one-word adjectives that describe how this encounter made you feel about what you were saying? About yourself?
• Who are the people in your life who would benefit the most if you took the time to listen to them?
Shhhh
More than a decade ago, while living on the cusp of my wedding and marriage, I came across this insightful definition of wisdom: (1) knowing what to say, and (2) not saying it.
Of all the things I’d read and heard through various newlywed books and bits of premarital advice, something about this one simple statement seemed to leap off the page and linger in the air, challenging me, convicting me, redirecting me. Even today—even right this minute—I’m captured by both its brevity and perspicacity.
It still speaks to me. Telling me that wisdom is often revealed in silence.
Granted, this wasn’t entirely new information. My own mother said something similar to me—or at least to the much mouthier version of me who shared this same body during my teenage years and often spoke without thinking. “Priscilla,” she said, “you don’t have to say everything that pops into your head.” But my mom, of course, wasn’t the first to communicate this sage advice. Long before I was a teenager, certainly long before I was on the precipice of becoming a wife, a man of great wisdom chronicled the following words into Scripture:
Too much talk leads to sin. Be sensible and keep your mouth shut. (Proverbs 10:19 NLT)
So I’d had ample opportunity for this idea to grip me. I knew of the beauty, power, and (yes) wisdom involved in carefully considering what I say and when I choose to say it. I was fully aware that the strongest, most astonishing stance of all is silence.
But I haven’t always lived like it.
I distinctly remember a time when Jerry and I were picked up by an older, white-haired gentleman and his wife at the airport in Los Angeles, where I’d gone to minister at a local conference. On the way to our accommodations at a tiny parish house across from the church, we began a conversation about spiritual things. When the man mentioned a specific passage in keeping with the theme of our discussion, it happened to be one I’d just been reading on the flight over. So when he specifically said where the verse was found, I knew immediately that he was incorrect.
“I think that’s in 1 Corinthians 3,” I corrected him.
“Nope,” the kind, soft-spoken man replied confidently to me through the rearview mirror, “It’s definitely 2 Corinthians 4.”
Quietly I flipped through my Bible and found the passage tucked exactly where I knew it was. Then without thinking I lifted it up in view of his gaze in the mirror, pointing out that he was clearly wrong. “It’s 1 Corinthians 3.”
I win.
Here I was, barely in my mid-twenties, choosing to take on a man in his seventies or eighties who’d been kind enough to invite a kid like me to California—over a disputed Scripture reference! Instead of just staying quiet and allowing this sweet man to maintain his dignity, I’d spoken up, pretty much spoiling the mood of the rest of our ride together.
When Jerry and I were finally alone, he asked me, “Why did you do that? Why was it so important to know you were right?” I don’t know. I just know there’s not a single one of us who doesn’t have a personal story or two (or twenty) like this—a time when being quiet would have spared us all kinds of hurt, embarrassment, and regret—when our silence might have prevented us from landing a damaging blow to another or straining a relationship.
Silence is our friend. Silence is our strength.
Obviously I’m not saying we should never speak up or should change our core personalities. It’s just that we probably don’t need any instructions in this book on how to be better talkers. Let’s be honest, we’ve pretty much got the talking part mastered, don’t we? But a chapter on understanding the wisdom and power of silence—the last thing we often consider when faced with a situation begging for an opinion, decision, or anything to break the awkward stillness—I’m guessing that’s something worth talking about.
Silence is our way of growing deep, of discovering maturity, of exercising the kind of influence God has created us to have on others, as opposed to the destructive, discouraging alternative. “Knowing what to say” and “not saying it” at an inappropriate time puts us in a position where—when the time is right for expressing ourselves—our words can yield an extremely positive blessing.
A woman who is quick to listen is one who gathers up all the information before releasing her reaction. She resists the urge to spout off everything her mind formulates, choosing rather to give her solutions time to settle, to become properly shaped before being shared. When she speaks, her advice and assessments are sensible and sober. Prudent and purposeful. Those on the receiving end of her conversation realize they’re hearing a response that hasn’t been considered halfheartedly. They’re primed to listen on the edge of their seats—eager, hungry, ready to hear—knowing that “the tongue of the righteous is pure silver” (Proverbs 10:20). Valuable, prized, precious, and worthy. Words that nourish, edify, and benefit others.
I know you’ve met these exceptional kinds of people. Women of uncommon wisdom and dignity. You’ve wanted, as I have, to be the kind of person who sits at the end of the dinner table, saying nothing, yet fully present by your quiet strength and peaceful wisdom, by your patience and prudence. Rather than being tangled up in a web of pointless gossip—some “he said, she said” mayhem that’s not intended to be solved but merely enjoyed for sport—you hold your opinions, knowing that the incessant chatter of “foolish lips will be destroyed” (Proverbs 10:8).
Yes, picture yourself as that person. Someone who’s long abandoned the need to impress others or be the center of attention. In its place you’ve acquired the ease and freedom that unsaddles you from pride and pretense, from anything that compels you to desire being noticed or to force your importance onto the group. In humility and appreciation of others, you’re content just being a participant like everyone else. You don’t think you’re always right and that everyone else is wrong, as if you alone know all the answers. You just listen and learn. Contemplating and considering. Weighing and waiting.
This is wisdom.
And power.
It’s the power of the tongue, as described by James in the New Testament. The sure, steady strength of character available to the person who’s able to harness it, bridle it, and contain its wild nature. “For we all stumble in many ways,” he tells us, but “if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a mature man who is able to control his whole body” (James 3:2). Gaining mastery over our words is like a sea captain caught in a furious squall over open waters who strategically applies the small rudder underneath his massive oceangoing vessel, charting its course and ultimately determining its destination, bringing it safely to shore.
The blessing of silence. May we learn it, love it, and live according to it.
This is our resolution.
• What would immediately change for the better in your life if you began exercising the spiritual restraint of silence?
• Try it for just a day or two. Deliberately keep from saying something that’s better left unsaid. Allow the bait of another’s unkind or inappropriate remark to land without hooking a response from you. Record what you observe about yourself and the chang
e in the dynamics around you.
Underneath It All
My sister Chrystal and I shared a room growing up. It was a small twelve-by-thirteen-foot space with our twin-sized beds lining opposite walls. Mine was right next to the Jack and Jill bathroom that connected to our brothers’ room. At night we’d close that door before going to sleep to keep from being distracted by them. (You know brothers.)
I distinctly remember waking up one morning and looking above the frame of that bathroom door—the same sight I was accustomed to seeing every morning at sunrise. But this time I noticed something I didn’t remember ever being there before: a slight, slender crack creeping upward about two feet from the top of the door to the ceiling.
Strange.
When my dad found out about it, he called a painter to come over and look at it. I remember him showing up a few days later, applying some plaster and repainting with the most compatible color he could find. For several weeks after that, I went to bed looking at the misplaced line of color streaked on the wall above the door.
Then one day I awoke startled to see that the crack had returned. And this time he wasn’t alone. He apparently had been recommending his new living arrangements to his family members because it appeared they’d all come to settle in with him. As many as a half-dozen cracks of all shapes and sizes now laced the wall.
The Resolution for Women Page 10
