It took staring into the middle distance, about five hundred meters away from the neighbourhood duck pond for this revelation to occur: ‘Not busy’ does not mean lazy.
The combination of watching ducks swim freely through the pond while also contemplating perennial existential truths (“What does this all mean? What is life all about?” etc.) left me both envious for my feathered friends and frustrated at myself.
I used to be a busy person—sometimes too busy for my own good. There was always school or work, sometimes both. Night after night there would be this friend to meet up with or that event to go to.
The common refrain of “Wow, you’re so busy” wasn’t something I really thought of until this moment at the duck pond. I used to think of it as a harmless, general statement of fact. But now, in a new reality where I’m no longer “busy”, I’ve come to see that perhaps I had invested a little too much into this identity of being busy all the time.
I’m not saying that past me was wrong to be so busy, though I probably could have afforded to slow down and actually listen to my mind and body instead of forcing myself ahead.
As it typically is, the grass is always greener on the other side.
In my ‘busy era’ I used to long for quiet, stillness, and rest. Now, given the circumstances of my life, I am living exactly what I used to long for.
Sometimes, it’s great. But sometimes, it sucks.
It is great because it really has given me a lot of time for myself. I’ve been able to pray more, reflect more, and live at a slower pace.
But most times, I find myself wishing I was busy again.
In my brain, my logic was this: To be busy is to live a meaningful life. To be productive is to progress ahead. Doing is better than not doing, because not doing is just being lazy.
I put a lot of stock into productivity, and a very particular kind of productivity.
The absence of frenetic ‘doing’ that I used to pride myself on—and I use the word ‘pride’ very deliberately—left me with a gaping hole in my sense of self.
The absence of things to do has been a scary thing to confront.
It also makes the questions “what are you up to today?” or “what have you been up to?” suddenly very challenging to answer. Because I know that the answer is almost always the same: I have no idea. Nothing much.
This hasn’t come out of a lack of trying. I’ve been applying to jobs, doing a lot more writing, and was super fortunate to land very casual employment. So in a sense there is still a lot of doing, but maybe at a lesser amount than I’m used to.
Perhaps I was still holding onto a sense of needing to do in order to be loved. Perhaps I was trying to lose myself into all the things I could do, instead of letting myself be found in simply being.
I had no context for how heavy not doing things could feel. But sometimes, we can’t do anything not because we aren’t capable or even because we don’t want to. Sometimes we simply find ourselves in circumstances that obscure the path ahead, like major illness, unexpected loss, or a major life shift.
A very wise friend shared with me recently that it is in these moments where the future seems murky and uncertain that we are called to cling even tighter to God. I had to really wrestle with this statement because I had the exact opposite reaction; that is, to run far away from God who seems to causing everything to go awry!
Of course, it isn’t that God is causing everything to go awry. But in these moments of uncertainty, when it feels like everything I touch turns into not gold, He wants me to hold onto His hand even tighter.
This fundamental truth—that my identity lies so much deeper than what I am able to do—is something that has been taught and re-taught to me in so many different contexts. It was probably *the lesson* throughtout my formation. Now, I find myself back in the classroom of Jesus the Teacher as I go through this lesson yet again, but in new contexts.
So while it’s difficult for me to lean into, there is hope in the midst of what has felt like existential crisis. There is hope because Jesus has already overcome the world, and He has helped me to overcome every crisis that I’ve encountered before this moment.
And so, it’s been an invitation for me to remember:
〰️Doing is good, but it is also okay to not do sometimes.
〰️Generativity only exists when we’re also ready to be in a posture of receptivity.
〰️Progress is not linear, and our lives aren’t just a straight line.
〰️Embrace life—and yourself—with more curiosity and more humility.
Wherever this finds you, I hope that you let yourself be found by the one who first sought you. May we do not for our glory, but for His.
In Jesus Master,
Rachel
You spoke the words I have been having on my heart too. Holding on vs. running away. Yeah, baby, don't i know it too. Keep writing, Rachel. You are being used by God for God and for us.
We’ll said, Rachel. That is exactly how I felt at the beginning of my journey. Thank you for so eloquently expressing it and it’s value. Love you and God bless.