If it's finished
If it's finished
On celebrating, resting & rejoicing (even when you're not good at it)
Earlier in April, during Holy Week, I planned to write a newsletter entitled “It is finished” after turning in the manuscript for my book. But, while I did finish it, I hesitated about sending out that particular newsletter.
For one thing, it was finished, but it didn’t quite feel like it. I, at least, didn’t feel very finished. I turned in my manuscript to my publisher on time, by grace alone—in spite of a weeklong stomach flu (that may have been anxiety-induced?) and other deadlines competing for my attention. But, after limping and then crawling across that finish line, “It is finished” felt a little too… triumphant. I also had a difficult appendix left to write, and a long list of domestic chores waiting to no longer be ignored.
“It is time for a nap” felt more like it.
Second, I really didn’t want to imply that the most important thing occurring during Holy Week was me finishing a book.
Christ is the one who spoke the words “It is finished,” on that somehow-Good Friday long ago. What I wanted to imply was that I could only do the work of writing this book because of the work that Christ did on the cross. And I still want to say that—again and again. That is a core theme of the book: That we can face death, because Christ did; that we can find life after death, because Christ did. That we can trace redemption across the darkest valleys, because he traipsed them first.
But I don’t want to come away with or convey some self-centered view of the crucifixion. Because Christ’s work matters, mine can, too. But it doesn’t work the other way around. And, while finishing a book feels like THE MOST IMPORTANT THING when you’re in the thick of it, I thought sitting with the idea for a minute might be better.
And how easily these minutes turn into a month! So, for those of you who signed up for this newsletter because I teased you and said I would reveal the title of the book… good things come to those who wait! Here it is:
We Shall All Be Changed: How Facing Death with Loved Ones Transforms Us
The book is due out from Moody Publishers February 2024, which feels both too far away and terrifyingly close.
What’s surprised me most about finishing the writing part is the fear that began to settle like a cloud over my last chapter. People might actually read this. Am I ready for that? The cloud is lifting as I get a little time from staring at the blinking cursor. But I am sure it will settle in again as I near the pub date. Pray that I would be brave enough to carry on, even beneath it.
Between now and then, we will pick the cover, go through a couple more rounds of edits and focus on getting the word out!
But first, in those days after turning ‘er in, I clinked glasses over Easter weekend. I hugged the necks of friends and a husband and family and a community who have held up my arms in the midst of all that fear and trembling. Who have whispered timely encouragement and given needed feedback. Sharing the final product with them, and thanking them for their roles in it, will be my favorite part.
It has been a good month, since I turned in these words I worked on for just under a year. But—can I be honest?—it has taken a decent amount of effort to find, focus on and savor the good that comes after a season of ruthless productivity. Rest is a spiritual discipline for me; it has never come easily. And rejoicing, it turns out, is similar.
I planned to have an “It is finished” party that Easter weekend, but I did not have the energy (see: stomach sickness) and I just wasn’t sure about it. Aren’t the people who’ve supported me kind of tired of hearing about the book? Aren’t they as ready for a break from it as I am? (If you, like me, are tentative toward celebration, I have a book suggestion below.) But, though I didn’t have the energy to plan celebration, God wove it into our weekend anyway.
And then I was convicted: Is my hesitancy to celebrate truly about being humble? Or is it about appearing humble? But if I really believe the work is from God and through God and to God, then I don’t have to shy away from celebrating it. Even when I sense the mixed motives swirling with in me, the vainglory pushing toward the surface, I can push back against it—not by canceling the celebration but—by saying to others, “Come and see what the Lord has done” (Psalm 46:8).
I’m reminded of a comment
wrote on my last post on delight:I share your reluctance to embrace delight. I can't help but think of the poem, "A Brief for the Defense" (Jack Gilbert) that takes on the theme of delight:
"We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world."
To celebrate isn’t to say “everything is great.” It isn’t smoke and mirrors. It doesn’t need to obfuscate the hard that remains. But it is to mirror the image of a Creator who saw and said “it was good” even over that which would be marred by sin. I don’t have to this “this is perfect” to proclaim “it is good.”
It is good to be here, right here. Writing during a sick child’s nap. Wondering which good work I will do next. Wanting to rely on the Lord as much in the resting and waiting as I tend to in the hustling and producing. These are the boundary lines of today, and there is a lot of good within them.
Good Reads 📚
What If It's Wonderful? Release Your Fears, Choose Joy, and Find the Courage to Celebrate by Nicole Zasowski
I had this book in my queue for a while before I got to it near the end of finishing my own. The timing was perfect. A professional therapist and believer, Nicole comes from a place of hesitating to embrace her own joys following a string of losses and, through a series of tender stories and teaching, compels us to learn to celebrate alongside her. If you’re dreading having to dig up “fun mom” for summer or doubting if God has good in store for you, I recommend this (free on Hoopla audio) book.
Disentangling Memoirs
Memoirs, and spiritual memoirs, in particular, are a favorite genre of mine, and there are some good ones that have come out this year—many of them touching on the theme of “disentangling” faith as an alternative to “deconstructing” it altogether. I found Beth Moore’s All My Knotted Up Life to be beautifully written, hilarious at times and achingly honest (also free—do the audiobook!—on Hoopla).
And Jinger Duggar Vuolo’s (yes, daughter of those Duggars) book Becoming Free Indeed is thought-provoking as well, dismantling the harmful teachings of Bill Gothard. I do think it would have benefitted from an additional cowriter who could make it less like a theological treatise and more like a story that compels me to consider the truths she’s laying out. But it’s definitely worthy of consideration, especially if you’re struggling to not throw the baby out with the bad bathwater you were immersed in in the past.
Lastly, I recently became mildly obsessed with the podcast The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling. And I would put this in the a similar vein as the memoirs: A thought-provoking look at how people change their minds about core beliefs—and why. The backstory of the interviewer, Megan Phelps-Roper—who formerly belonged to Westboro Baptist “Church,” of the awful signage fame—turns out to be just as fascinating as that of the creator of Harry Potter herself. Neither of them claim to be Christians at the end of the podcast, but their logic, compassion and curiosity toward other human beings breathes fresh air into the issue and sets a winsome example. I now have Phelps-Roper’s memoir, Unfollow, on my reading list to continue the trend.
Short & Beautiful
I finally picked up the short novella My Last Name by Eric Schumacher and wow. I finally got to it after Oprah put it on her book list and I could resist no longer. The book introduces us to an elderly woman who remembers more of her past than her present as she nears her final days. I don’t want to ruin it. Just grab some tissues and read it. When I say short, I think it took me less than a half-hour to read the e-book I picked up, that’s right, on Hoopla.