Sue Montgomery

Feb 21 2021

In the Woods, Talking About Dying

I know, it’s an interesting title.

I almost used, “Talking about dying in the woods,” but in that context, you can see how word order and comma placement can make a big difference. 😊

And yes, some may consider me a bit odd.

After all, not many people sit in their bathrobes and talk about Jesus.

And not many people carry a stool into the woods to sit and talk about dying.

But a few years ago, that’s what I did.

Actually, it wasn’t just one stool, but two: one for me and one for the tripod for my iPhone.

Plus the list of topics I wanted to cover about end of life.

Now and Then

Now, I’m mentioning it to you because a friend recently said he’d enjoyed watching my Dying Talks™ video series on my website.

Which reminded me that I’d never shared that journey about how I ended up in the woods on a stool with insects buzzing my head, sweat running down my back, and squinting against the sunshine as I talked to people about their final days.

It all started one day in church.

Well, actually, it all started with working in hospice, but that wasn’t what led me to the woods.

What led me to the woods was something that happened in a small community church we attended many years ago.

Then, I watched as a woman with aggressive stage 4 cancer stood weakly, yet patiently, as people came up and lovingly patted her arm to tell her everything would be okay.

I don’t remember if it was she who’d asked for prayer during the service, or someone else, but after going through a recent period of extensive treatments and a short time of remission, her cancer had come roaring back.

From my experiences with those types of scenarios, things didn’t sound good.

However, I sensed that the general sentiment and messaging was an assumption that she’d keep on fighting with everything she had left.

Of course, that was wonderful if that’s what she wanted to do.

But what if it wasn’t?

As I watched her pale, thin face try to smile through her exhaustion at those who paused to encourage her, a single thought kept running through my mind: “If she wanted to talk about dying, could she find the support to do that?”

Difficult Conversations

If you’re wondering, yes, I also stepped in to offer her encouragement, but mine was a little different than what she’d heard so far.

It was more of a reminder that she had the right to make her own choices about what she did and didn’t want instead of defaulting to what might seem expected of her.

And that if she wanted to talk about end-of-life stuff, it was okay to do that, too.

Of course, that was easier for me to say than others, since my time working in hospice meant that I’d had many such conversations with patients and families over the years.

But for those who haven’t had such exposure to death and dying, having those kinds of difficult conversations can be pretty tough.

This can be especially true if it’s a loved one we think we can’t bear to lose.

While all of that is understandable, an unfortunate consequence is that those who are facing end of life may have no one to talk with about everything they feel.

Instead, if they try to bring up something they want to discuss, what they may get instead is an everything’s-going-to-be-okay pat on the hand.

And what some may like to say in response is, “No. Everything is not going to be okay. I’m dying, and I’d like to talk about that.”

Dying Talks with Mom

I’ve written a lot about getting to be with my mom during the end of her life.

As her condition declined, we talked a lot about what was ahead—both in this life and the next.

Mom wasn’t afraid of dying, and she didn’t mind talking about it, either.

In fact, she looked forward to experiencing the joy of Heaven and all that awaited her there.

Her precious Savior, Jesus.

My dad.

Her sisters.

Her parents.

And everyone else she loved and who would be waiting with outstretched arms.

I knew my life would never be the same after my mom died, and it hasn’t been.

Losing someone like a mom just changes you, period.

But I have to say that we were able to really savor and cherish her final season—partly because we weren’t afraid to identify it as exactly that.

And in practical terms, being able to talk openly about it also helped to ensure that everything that needed to be addressed would be taken care of prior to her death—instead of me trying to sort through a mountain of tedious details in the midst of my acute grief.

As I’ve described when writing about the Golden Season™ at end of life, there’s something powerful about embracing the reality of the final season, instead of pretending it won’t happen or doesn’t exist.

Because when we do, when we’re able to embrace the space in which we talk about important things like dying, the season at end of life can be transformed from being a formidable and dreaded concept—to an expected and precious time within the circle of life.

Back to the Woods

Which leads me back to the woods and why I ended up talking about such things there.

About a year after Mom died, we moved to Ocala, FL—the beautiful “Horse Capital of the World”—to be closer to Dave’s family.

After we got settled into our country home, I kept encountering people with serious health conditions who wanted to talk about end of life and preparing for that.

Of course, I was quite happy to do so.

In addition, the website I was building at the time focused on what I refer to as the Boomer Continuum™ of agile caregiving, graceful aging, and peaceful dying.

The process of doing both frequently reminded me of the many end-of-life conversations I’d had with Mom.

And that woman in church.

And all the hospice patients I’d cared for who wanted to talk frankly about dying.

So, I decided to put together my Dying Talks™ series for all of them.

And to do it in a pretty setting like the woods because I know that many who are near end of life may not have the physical ability to get out and enjoy the beauty of nature.

So, that’s how I ended up tugging my two stools out of the trunk of my car and heading into the woods near our home so I could sit in the midst of God’s creation and talk about an important thing like dying.

Which, although sometimes difficult, isn’t a conversation we need to fear.

In fact, I believe that when we can talk more freely about dying, it gives us the perspective needed to really relish and embrace living.

Fortunately, there are growing efforts to help people step into the gift of talking about end of life—like those of a wonderful organization called The Conversation Project.

They offer some incredible resources to help initiate and support these critical conversations.

I’m so impressed with them that I actually signed up to be a Conversation Champion before my schedule filled and I realized I may need to hold off on that for a bit.

But I’ll continue to talk about end-of-life planning for anyone who’s willing to engage—and to talk about dying itself for anyone who wants to go there, too.

Because sometimes we wait too long to have these conversations.

And because every day is a gift that none of us should take for granted.

P.S. …

If you know someone who could benefit from my series of Dying Talks™, please share them.

And if you know someone who is facing end of life, but don’t know what to say, you’re not alone.

Many people feel helpless in such situations and may avoid the person instead of facing their own discomfort.

However, instead of avoidance, consider how you might feel and what you might need if the tables were turned.

And remember that what matters most is your loving support—which may start with a simple question: “How can I help?”

This post is adapted from Sue’s Perspectives column in the latest edition of The Empowered Traveler™ Newsletter. If you’re not already a subscriber, you can do that here: Subscribe to Sue’s newsletter.

Feb 15 2021

Giving God Elbow Room

Within my journey of reduced connectedness, I’m realizing how much more space I have available both mentally and spiritually.

Without technology’s continual clamor for my attention, I’m better able to breathe, pray, and find renewal within the peacefulness that results.

Better able to give God the elbow room needed within my attention span to do the work He wants to do.

Looking Up

Lauren Daigle has an album that contains a song with the same name: “Look up, child.”

That’s what I hear God saying more and more—both within that quiet space when He calls me to prayer and connection with Him—and in the practical space of technology’s pull on my attention.

To look up from my smartphone and engage with the person who’s physically with me.

To push back from my monitor screen to give my undivided attention to whoever needs it or is blessing me by giving me theirs.

To sit on a blanket in the yard and look up at the beauty of God’s creation all around me to be renewed in the middle of the day—instead of spending this miraculous time scrolling through the world’s problems on my phone.

And of course, to drive without distractions and keep everyone on the road—including me and my passengers—safer as a result.

Disconnectedness vs Intermittent Connectedness

I’ve been thinking a lot about this disconnect kick I’m on.

Especially since I have several new technology clients—who may wonder about the wisdom of hiring a writer who talks in such a way.

But here’s the rub in all of that: I wholeheartedly believe in the benefits of technology.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so excited by the new things I learn and the technology offerings these wonderful companies create to help others.

And if I wasn’t excited, I surely wouldn’t be able to provide much marketing support as a writer.

So, I’m thinking perhaps I should reframe my journey a bit, and refer to it as one of “intermittent connectedness,” instead.

Because as I’ve said before, technology itself isn’t the issue—but how we use it and the role we allow it to play in our lives.

Within that context, what is a benefit for one may be a barrier for another.

And that’s something each one of us has to decide for ourselves.

Feb 08 2021

Technology: Tool or tether?

When I first started working in hospice, I was the pediatric nurse for the agency, which required traveling throughout a very large county to see all the kids.

Since that was a loooong time ago, we didn’t even have cell phones then.

Which meant that I, like everyone else who worked in the field, carried a pager instead.

And lots of quarters to deposit in the pay phones that were well-known along our routes.

Eventually, everyone was given a cell phone—and I still remember my thrill when I moved into management, which meant a Blackberry, too.

Since I was so eager to be able to work from anywhere, I couldn’t believe I could actually check my email on the same device as my phone.

By that time, everyone had moved from paper to laptops—and eventually added wireless cards, which provided the ability to connect from most anywhere.

For me, that meant I could be even more connected than ever, which tickled me pink.

Working from anywhere

When I decided to leave hospice to work in my own business, the ability to work from anywhere became more important than ever.

That was especially true in the years that Mom’s health began to decline and she needed more support.

By then I had a smartphone, too, so when I was waiting for her at the beauty shop, doctor’s office, or even alongside the therapy pool—I often had my nose in a device so I could get my work done.

I became self-employed over 11 years ago, and I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that I’ve been able to work from anywhere all these years.

Being able to use technology in this way meant that I could be at home with Mom—and it’s given Dave and me the ability to live with a freedom that many would enjoy.

An insidious creep of dependence

But as mobile technology has advanced over the years, I believe there’s been an insidious creep of dependence that may not always be a good thing.

When smartphones first came out, they were novelties instead of the supposed essentials they’ve become today.

There weren’t nearly as many bells and whistles then—nor the security and privacy risks that accompany them.

And Big Tech didn’t have nearly the power that it increasingly applies.

Sure, it’s wonderful to have the world at your fingertips in your pocket or purse.

But what price do we pay for that type of convenience and accessibility?

What freedoms do we give up by being constantly tethered to tech?

What personal information are we dishing up on a platter for others to use and sell on a whim?

Disconnected freedom

In my recent journey to step away from continual connectedness, I’m finding that the freedoms I thought technology afforded me may have been restrictions, instead.

After all, distraction is draining—but focus is freeing.

Streaming is signal-dependent—while the oldies-but-goodies are tried-and-true friends.

Scrolling can be addictive—but a good book a relaxing escape.

Digital noise a familiar companion—but the stillness of quiet a soothing balm.

The negative effects of mobile-tech dependence are evidenced in various ways—including the fact that people pay perfectly good money for “digital detox” retreats instead of just turning off their smartphones now and then.

Yes, technology can provide freedom in many ways—unless the need for continual connectedness ends up taking us hostage, instead.

Used most effectively, technology should be a tool, not a tether.

Serving us—instead of the other way around.

Feb 04 2021

Making the most of the desert

We all have desert experiences at some point in our lives.

Sometimes we have little say in the matter—like when a global pandemic hits and our social structures are turned upside down.

But other times, we choose to create greater solitude in some way—like when we intentionally disconnect from the always-on world of technology, which is currently a personal favorite of mine.

As I mentioned in another post, I recently started working my way through both the Old and New Testaments—reading one chapter from each daily, along with commentary from two Bible experts.

This week, I finished Genesis—which describes how a number of great leaders of faith made the most of their desert experiences to listen more closely to God and then act on what they heard through the power of that relationship.

There are many instances, but here I’ll talk about Noah, Abraham, Joseph, and Moses (who’s actually in Exodus).

I’m also nearing the end of Matthew, which means that I’ve read about John the Baptist’s seemingly odd lifestyle and ministry in the desert as he prepared the way for the coming Messiah (Matthew 3).

And through several instances in which Jesus purposely withdrew from the crowds to spend time alone with the Father (Matthew 14:13,23; 17:1-8).

Of course, He also had that notorious desert experience after John baptized Him: spending 40 very spartan days alone in the wilderness after which He was tempted by Satan when Jesus was at His most vulnerable (Matthew 4: 1-11).

That was a key desert experience, since He overcame those temptations as proof that He both knows what we endure in that sense, and that He can also provide the help needed to overcome them (Hebrews 4:15).

Finding purpose in the desert

A common thread that stood out to me in all those stories was that although God can certainly get our attention in any way He likes, it seems that those described were better able to hear God’s voice when they were in the desert alone.

Which may have been God’s purpose for placing them there.

After all, if Noah had received unquestioning support during all those years as he plodded through building a very big boat under sunny skies to supposedly save humanity from an existential flood—he likely wouldn’t have relied nearly as much on his relationship with God (Genesis 6:9-22; 7-9).

If Abraham and Sarah had been blessed with children right off the bat, he wouldn’t have had to count on God (over decades of waiting) to be true to His word about making him the father of a great nation (Genesis 11:30; 15; 17; 21:1-7).

And then there’s Joseph—whose story is one of my favorites in the Old Testament.

He was only 17 when he proclaimed to his brothers-who-already-didn’t-like-him-because-he-was-the-favorite that God had revealed to him in a dream that they would one day bow down to him.

If you have any sibling rivalry in your family, you can imagine how that went over.

Although Joseph was obviously someone special if he had that kind of connection with God, he lacked the spiritual maturity at that tender age to know that he would’ve been better off keeping such a revelation to himself.

Since he didn’t, his older brothers plotted against him and ended up throwing him into an empty well before deciding that—even better—they’d sell him into slavery in Egypt (with hearts cold and hard enough to tell their father that his favorite son had been killed by a wild beast).

Long-story-short, although Joseph spent a number of years in slavery and then jail, he didn’t dwell on the injustice of his situation and plan his revenge.

Instead, he made the most of that desert period by deepening his relationship with God—which meant he was able to provide divine insight at critical moments, eventually leading to his promotion to be Egypt’s second-in-command.

As a result of all that, he was able to reconcile with his brothers, enjoy a tearful reunion with his father, and save the nation of Israel from starvation.

That story covers several chapters (Genesis 37, 39-50), but one of the most significant moments occurs after their father dies and his brothers become fearful and try to find some way to say how sorry they are for all they’ve done to him.

But again, because of his deep relationship with God that had been refined during his desert experiences, Joseph’s response was loving, forgiving, and in recognition of God’s greater purposes: “Do not be afraid, for am I in the place of God? But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive” (Genesis 50:19-20, NKJV).

As I moved from Genesis to Exodus in the last few days, I’ve been reading about Moses, who had a very dicey start in life—since, as an infant, he was placed in his own little ark among the reeds of the Nile river by his sister to save his life.

His long-story-short is that after being adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter (though his mother was still able to raise him during his early years), he was groomed as an Egyptian who lived within the trappings of the palace (Exodus 2:1-10).

However, since he knew of his Hebrew roots, it was too much to take when he saw an Egyptian taskmaster beating one of his countrymen—which is why he murdered the Egyptian and was then forced to flee his royal life and start from scratch in a new land (Exodus 2:11-15).

It was when he was around 80 years old (Jeremiah Study Bible, p. 78), while tending sheep, alone and in the desert, that Moses noticed that odd bush that wouldn’t stop burning and heard the voice of God laying out His plans for him to return to Egypt and rescue the nation of Israel from slavery (Exodus 3; 4:1-17).

Embracing the riches of the desert

When Psalm 23 describes a place of rest and renewal, there are green pastures and quiet waters involved.

Perhaps that’s why we don’t normally think of the desert as a desirable place to be.

After all, it’s hot, dry, and much of the vegetation will prick you if you touch it.

However, from our various trips out west, I know the desert can be a pretty place, too—with lots of bright sunshine, blue skies, colorful flowers, and fluctuating temperatures from morning to night.

What I also like about the desert is how peaceful and quiet it can be.

Maybe all of that is why God has used it so frequently to both develop and connect with the great leaders of faith.

Because while He is certainly with us in the busy places of our lives, it is within the quiet that we can hear Him most clearly and discover the treasures waiting for us there.

That’s why I’m loving my current disconnect-from-tech journey so much.

I’ve written about embracing an analog life the last several weeks and those posts are on my blog if you haven’t seen them and want to.

However, while I’d been feeling so much more peaceful and focused as a result of purposefully limiting the always-on connection of my smartphone, I had two days this week in which I fell back into my old habit of taking it with me during my daily picnic lunch on a blanket in the yard with Blue.

Since I had it with me, I decided to read through the day’s news instead of enjoying the beautiful nature all around, praying, or reading a good book.

As a result, I found that I wasn’t nearly as peaceful as I’d been up to that point.

Instead, I was more distracted—which meant I was less able to focus on pausing and praying throughout the day.

Which meant I was also less able to sense the direction of the Holy Spirit in my new approach to a list-less life.

I have much more I’d like to say about all of that, but this post is getting to be long enough as it is.

So, I’ll close with this…

You know that flip phone I mentioned a few weeks ago?

That’s looking better all the time.

Jan 24 2021

List-less Bliss; Discovering Analog Treasures

I’ve been making some radical changes lately.

And the shifts that are occurring have been eye-opening, fun, and exciting.

Plus they’re leading to a much deeper sense of peacefulness.

Foundationally, they all start with God and what He seems to be up to in my life.

List-less Bliss

Last week, I wrote a post for my blog that described how I started the new year with a plan to study the Bible more deliberately.

And I suspected that the result of doing so would lead to a deepening of my relationship with God.

After all, how can a person spend extended time in prayerful exposure to the Word of God and not be changed by that?

Since God seems to be calling me to some radical changes, I believe that’s exactly what’s happening.

The first and really significant change was what I described in the post about His directive to let go of my lists.

That was a big deal since I love to plan and I love order.

But what I’ve been realizing is how much my need for both can get in the way of what God may have planned for me, instead.

And when I rely on my lists, I don’t necessarily feel the need to listen as closely for the Holy Spirit’s guidance about whatever I need to do next.

So, one radical change is that I’ve been embracing list-less bliss—a peaceful state in which I no longer feel behind and overwhelmed because there’s no list of un-done tasks accusing me of not being productive or efficient enough.

Instead, I’ve been completing one task at a time.

Then I stop and pray and ask God what He wants me to do next.

Which is what I then do next.

Which also means that I’m spending a lot more time in prayer—and feeling peaceful about the fact that my efforts and focus are aligned with God’s purposes, instead of mine.

Discovering Analog Treasures

In last week’s newsletter, I wrote about my frustrations with the intrusion of technology and the power that Big Tech seems to hold over our lives.

As a result, I said that when my smartphone needs to be replaced, I’d consider returning to a flip phone, instead.

The thought of doing so led me to an evaluation over the past week of all the things I rely on my smartphone to do.

And I realized that while some things will take some planning and potential expense to replace, others I can discard right now—which I’ve done.

The good thing about being a Boomer is that—unlike the digital natives who are younger than us—we know how to live an analog life.

It’s just that we’ve been swept up in the convenience and efficiencies of technology just like everyone else.

Although there may be a good reason to not give up various tech tools—since many offer considerable benefits—I think it’s a good thing to hang on to some of that analog knowledge and ability to apply it, if needed.

One of the ways I’ve done that this week is by addressing my need for music.

I have music on my phone and have been accustomed to popping in my earbuds to listen to it for exercise while dancing and using the spin bike.

However, I realized that I don’t need to depend on that to provide a beat and lift my spirits as I work up a sweat.

Instead, I pulled out the portable CD/cassette/radio we have that belonged to my mom and dad.

Then I started exploring our collection of compact discs (aka, CDs for anyone reading this who’s young enough to be puzzled about now).

Between our collections and that of my parents, I couldn’t tell you how many CDs Dave and I own.

Or how long it’s been since I listened to any of them.

But this week, I started digging through them, which means our home has been filled with treasures from various Christian artists, Mozart, Tony Bennett, James Taylor, and more.

That has included my exercise time each morning.

Since it’s been relatively cold (yeah, I know, if you live in the North, you would disagree), I’ve been dance-exercising inside first, and then going outside to finish on the spin bike.

I’d planned to use Mom’s portable CD player when I left the indoor warmth, but even after Dave cleaned up the mess I’d made by leaving the batteries in for so many years, it still didn’t work.

So, I decided I’d spin without music and listen to the birds, instead.

But soon, I found myself trying to sing hymns while I pedaled, but I could only remember the first verses of most.

Which led me to all the music-on-paper we have stored in one of the tables in our den.

There, I pulled out my favorite hymnal and decided to sing from that, instead.

The result has been that I now sing (somewhat out of breath) while I spin (reading glasses propped on my nose since I’m that old) and savor the rich theology I’m re-discovering in each word.

This morning, it was Martin Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.”

Luther penned the lyrics sometime between 1527 and 1529, and if you read each verse you’ll be powerfully reminded that the negative influence of culture has long been a problem—and that God is always in charge, no matter what.

Oh, and the timer I always used on my phone to keep track of my exercise time?

The egg timer of Mom’s that I’d already been using to track my writing time works perfectly.

I love this new way of doing things that helps me listen more closely for God, savor list-less bliss, and step into the fun of re-discovering treasures in the analog life.

And the journey has just begun!

How about you? I’ve love to hear if you have analog ways of doing things that you currently enjoy or want to re-discover.

Please sign up for my newsletter and let me know there!

Jan 19 2021

Letting go of my lists and depending on God

As I stepped into the new year, one of the things I decided to do was to spend more deliberate time studying the Bible.

Although I’ve enjoyed using various devotionals, those aren’t typically geared for in-depth study.

Rather, they’re more focused on encouraging a regular time with the Lord each day.

The same is true for the Bibles & Bathrobes™ devotionals I offer here.

But I wanted something more in depth.

So, I decided to start from the beginning, using a study Bible and insights from another Bible scholar to give me an additional perspective.

In this case, I’m using The Jeremiah Study Bible—which has extensive commentary and resources from Dr. David Jeremiah and his team of experts—and With the Word: A Devotional Commentary by Warren Wiersbe.

The former provides detailed notes on individual verses (along with a lot of additional insights) and the latter provides a very brief synopsis of each chapter of the Bible, sometimes combining more than one chapter.

And when I sat down to start, I did so with Genesis 1:1.

Each day, I read a single chapter and all of the notes and commentary from both experts, underlining verses and adding my own notes and thoughts in the margins as I go.

It wasn’t long before I realized how long it would take to get to the New Testament at that pace, and I didn’t think I could stand to be away from it for that long.

So, I added a chapter from the New Testament to my study time, beginning with Matthew 1:1.

There are so many wonderful things I love about this process—and one I really enjoy is when I’ve just read something in the Old Testament that I then read about in the New Testament, too.

Although that connection is made in the New Testament writings, I just love it when it happens in “real-time” during my studies.

Another thing I cherish that I figured might happen if I really got serious about spending focused time in prayer and study of the Word was that God would deepen my relationship with Him.

And that’s happening.

Happening to the extent that I’ve been doing some drastic stuff as a result.

Like giving up my lists.

Oh, how I love lists

Let me start by saying how much I love lists.

I love the order they provide and the organizing required when I sit down to create them.

And doing that with my favorite pen: a black fine point Sharpie® and the perfect size paper or journal to write them out and bullet them just so.

Even better if a calendar is involved and I can set deadlines for getting them done.

Or some efficient technology tool that allows me to sit with my phone and upload them to the cloud so they’ll be available on any device from which I want to access them.

(If you read my recent post about turning off the tech, that last statement may confuse you, but bear with me.)

In fact, a friend told me about such a tool, a productivity app that creates bulleted lists you can move around to create priorities and hierarchies and all the orderly stuff I love.

And during that weird week of the year between Christmas and New Year’s when I love to take time to reflect and plan, I spent two whole days doing exactly that.

Reflecting, planning, and creating bulleted lists about my business and writing goals for the year ahead—all within the neat and organized efficiency of that technology app so conveniently located on my smartphone.

Then I gave the whole thing a suitable title: “Sue’s 2021 Strategic Planning”—after which I printed it out, tapped the pages together into a neat stack, and paper-clipped them to the inside front cover of my new 2021 business calendar I keep on my desk.

When lists get in the way

After all that, you can imagine my dismay when, during time in prayer last week, I distinctly (not audibly, mind you, but distinctly) heard God say, “Give me your lists.”

Ugh.

My lists, Lord?

But what about all my planning?

What about all the things I need to do in the year ahead?

How will I stay organized and on track?

How will I get things done and know what to do next?

Now, that may have been about the time when I was reading about Abraham being way too attached to his son Isaac and God dealing with him about that (Genesis 22).

Which made it pretty clear that if God was telling me to let go of something, I’d better do it.

As I considered this divine request, I realized how much my lists can get in the way.

After all, if they’ve been concocted from my agenda instead of God’s, that’s certainly not a good thing.

And if I’m so focused on crossing the next thing off my list instead of listening closely for the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I may totally miss what God had planned, instead.

Listening for the tap of God

All that reminded me of how closely I used to listen for my mom’s tap on the little desk bell she kept on her walker when she lived with us.

When she got to the point that she needed more help, I worried about her falling.

So if I wasn’t within earshot, I always had a monitor on me so I wouldn’t miss the ding of that little bell.

And I need to be the same way with God.

Paying such close attention to His promptings that I know exactly what I need to do next.

And the thing I did next after I heard His directive about my lists was to eliminate them all.

Yep, I deleted them all from that app and then removed the app from my phone.

Then I got up from the couch in my study, tugged that tidy 2021 planning packet from my calendar, and fed it into the shredder.

I have to be honest that my heart sank a bit as I watched the last remnants of my agenda for the year ahead being systematically chewed into oblivion.

But overall, I’ve been much more peaceful since I let go of my lists.

No longer do I have all those things waiting for me to do and making me feel like I’m falling behind.

Instead, I finish one thing and then stop to spend time in prayer, asking, “What’s next, Lord?”

Today, that next thing was to write this post.

And I’m so glad I got to spend this time with you as I did.

Jan 18 2021

Crawling through the trunk; turning off the tech

There are so many things happening in our world that I don’t know where to start.

So, I’ll start with locking my keys in the car at Walmart earlier this week.

I can’t even remember the last time I locked my keys in the car.

But I can definitely remember that I’ve never before crawled through the trunk and into the back seat to reach the rear-door latch.

(Fortunately, I’d popped the trunk hatch to load groceries before tossing my keys onto the floorboard and locking the door behind me).

Actually, none of that was a big deal.

I’m a pretty patient person and not easily frazzled, but I did think it was an interesting statement of our current times that no one walking by even batted an eye.

Well, since my head was in the trunk, none that I was aware of.

In the more-normal-days-of-the-past, I might’ve gotten a “Lady, are you okay?” or “Do you need some help?” or “Is that really your car?”

But no.

Between everyone minding their own business behind their masks and being preoccupied with their own stuff, I guess it’s now completely normal to see someone’s feet sticking out of a trunk in the middle of the Walmart parking lot.

Good to know.

The power of Big Tech

And then there was the seemingly-overnight shift in power by Big Tech and others to put a major squeeze on conservative voices that had a Carpenters’ tune running through my head: “We’ve only just begun…”

Those dynamics have caused me to take a major pause in terms of my reliance on the current state of technology offerings.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with technology itself, because it offers many benefits and can do a lot of good.

However, the negative stuff on social media and the ability for a few tech giants to take down a major conservative platform within a matter of days clarified my need to reduce my dependence on providers who may not agree with my Christian messaging (which means I’d love to see more technology providers—especially hosting infrastructure platforms—who do!).

Because I’m certainly not going to stop sharing the good news of Jesus—but it’s pretty clear that if the platforms I rely on to do that decide against permitting me to do so, that may find a way to do exactly that.

Plus, I’ve been getting increasingly aggravated by the intrusion of continual connectedness.

When technology takes over

For Christmas, I got a new pair of Bluetooth earbuds to use when I exercise and for video calls for work.

And twice, when I’ve picked them up to pop them in, Siri (which I thought was turned off) has somehow interpreted the generated noise as a request to dial someone on my business contact list with a name that’s difficult to pronounce and with whom I haven’t spoken in years.

Then there are the Windows updates on my PC.

I can’t tell you how aggravating it is to have specifically left work open to return to at a later point, only to find out that my computer has been shut down as part of the automatic update process (and I have absolutely no idea what’s being added to my computer as part of the process).

Or that I have to jump through the hoops of setting up my smartphone again because an update automatically installed overnight (again, I have no idea what’s being changed).

Now, I know there are continually evolving security risks and that those updates are necessary to address them.

But the connected nature of things is increasingly feeling like an invasion of my privacy and loss of control.

And I really like my privacy.

Plus, I’m not keen on giving up control unless it’s to God or to a person I specifically trust.

Reducing tech reliance

So, I started disconnecting from the internet by turning off the WiFi on my devices when I’m not using them.

And I’m evaluating my workflows to see what tech dependence I can eliminate in a new determination to return to a simpler way of life.

Which means that I recently deleted two of my favorite writing and productivity apps from my phone (painful).

And I’m using paper-based (yes, you read that right) processes as much as possible to gain more control of my privacy and to reduce my reliance on technology tools.

No, it won’t be the most efficient way of doing things.

Nor the most convenient.

But both of those benefits are a trap of technology, since Big Tech is counting on the fact that we can’t live without them.

However, I know people who live quite happily—and more peacefully—without any internet access at all.

They use paper calendars, lick stamps and envelopes to pay their bills, and know how to balance their checkbooks with a monthly statement that arrives in an actual mailbox that creaks when you open the door.

And to visit with those they love, they write a letter or pick up the phone to call or text.

Now, I certainly don’t plan to eliminate internet access.

After all, I make a living online (often writing about technology, in fact); there are many benefits to being intermittently connected; and that’s how I get to engage with you.

But one thing’s for sure.

When my current smartphone needs to be replaced, I’ll be considering a simple flip phone, instead.

Jan 10 2021

Giving God your zero

Social media is certainly interesting right now—with lots of upheaval on sites like Facebook, Twitter, and Parler.

Many who have enjoyed a robust following are finding the bottom is dropping out seemingly overnight.

Others are being banned for “violating” the rules in some way.

And still others are voluntarily calling it quits on platforms with which they can no longer agree.

The result?

The need to start from zero somewhere else.

With zero content and zero followers—completely starting from scratch.

Of course, some are finding they don’t have a choice in the matter—but others are doing so as a matter of choice.

I made that choice over a year ago, leaving Facebook and later Twitter, too.

Starting from zero with God

All that got me thinking about the dynamics of starting from scratch.

Of the willingness to give God our zero and trust Him with the outcome of doing so.

I read about four guys who did the same during my devotionals this morning: Andrew, Peter, James, and John.

In Matthew 4:18-22, we read the description of how they became Jesus’ followers:

¹⁸As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. ¹⁹“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” ²⁰At once they left their nets and followed him.
²¹Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John. They were in a boat with their father Zebedee, preparing their nets. Jesus called them, ²²and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.
NIV

When Jesus called them to follow Him, they immediately got up, left everything and everyone behind, and did exactly that.

I wonder how many of us would be willing to do that today.

To leave behind our comfortable lives and follow Jesus into the unknown.

To give Him our zero and trust Him with it.

To do what’s needed in the context of our call to put His kingdom first.

His will be done.

On Earth, as it is in Heaven.

The willingness to leave what’s familiar, to depart previous success, and start from scratch can be a hard thing to do.

But God will honor your willingness to do exactly that.

If you trust Him with your zero and step with Him into whatever He has next.

Jan 08 2021

The peace the world really needs

In the midst of the upheaval and uncertainty that surrounds us, many are seeking inner peace.

Which is what Jesus can provide.

His peace is different than what the world offers.

And that’s exactly what we need.

A lasting and effective alternative to the temporary, self-reliant solutions that will persistently fall short.

Trying to find inner peace within the chaos that surrounds us is impossible without Jesus.

Because only He can provide the consistent, powerful, and eternal peace we seek.

John 14:27 (NIV), Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV), I Peter 5:7 (NIV)