On Enjoying the Little Things (For Such a Time is This)
I would like to be able to sit here and say that I have impeccable film taste, but I really don't. Sure, I like plenty of movies with beautiful cinematography and interesting plot lines (like my all-time favorite film, which is highly under-appreciated), but if we're honest, I'm just as likely to enjoy something asinine or predictable.
I like to blame it on the fact that I have two younger brothers.
Regardless, I really enjoy the movie Zombieland -- enough that I've been known to crash "Guys' Night" just so I could watch it (in my defense, literally every female I knew in Bozeman was out of town that weekend). In it, the main character Columbus has a list of rules he's developed to survive the zombie apocalypse. They're widely applicable statements that make decent advice for life in general, including rule #1: cardio; rule #4: seatbelts; and rule #22: When in doubt, know your way out.
My favorite rule, though, is #32: Enjoy the little things.
I've been dwelling on the idea of time lately, and in the midst of that, this concept of "the little things" has been coming up. Robert Brault once said that you must "Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." I don't have much wisdom or perspective beyond what little is afforded by my twenty-one years, but I can see how easily his musings could become reality.
I want to be the kind of person that enjoys the little things. Often, though, I am so distracted by life and time that the little things -- which seem so, you know, little-- get shoved aside. There are moments when my time feels so stretched that my stress levels make it impossible to contemplate little things, let alone enjoy them. Past Mackenzie, particularly past-stressed-beyond-belief-Mackenzie (so, last-week-Mackenzie) scoffs at the mere idea of spending precious moments doing so.
In the midst of my musings on time, I found myself turning to the book of Esther. Like almost any other Christian woman, there's a fondness in my heart for Esther -- for this female who led in a time when women weren't empowered, for this woman who was to be immortalized in history during a time when women were overlooked. Her story gives me hope and inspiration.
Esther, though, is really the story of two women: a "beautiful young virgin" (Esther), and Queen Vashti. Vashti was the wife of King Xerxes, a man of great power. One day, Xerxes decided to throw a party. For seven days he hosted a lavish banquet, full of food and drink. On the last day of the banquet, when Xerxes was, as the Bible describes, "in high spirits from wine" (Esther 1:10), he asked Queen Vashti to come to him and so he could show off her beauty.
Now, I don't live in ancient Susa, nor do I live in a country with royalty. However, my guess is that based on the cultural customs of the time, if your husband asks you to do something, you say yes. Especially if he's the king.
Vashti said no.
In return, Xerxes said that she could never again come into his presence, and that he needed to find a new queen.
Enter Esther.
Esther was beautiful and young... and Jewish. Xerxes didn't know that, though. Eventually, he selected her to be the queen. One day, Esther's cousin Mordecai made Xerxes' official, Haman, angry because Mordecai wouldn't honor him. In return, Haman convinced Xerxes to destroy the Jews. Of course, he didn't know that this would include the new queen.
So here's Esther -- the only person in a position to potentially help her people, and she's not sure she can even do it. After saying so to Mordecai, he returns with a response that is probably the most often-quoted verse in the whole book: "And who knows that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14b, emphasis added).
Over the years, this verse has been one that God has used to remind me that there is always potential behind whatever season I'm in. Maybe I'm in a Vashti position, and I need to say no to make space for someone else to lead and say yes. Maybe I'm Esther, and it's my season to say yes and see how God uses it. There have been many moments this semester, as I watched friends decide to follow Jesus and form new relationships and take bold steps in faith, that I've thought to myself, "Maybe it's this. Maybe I'm still here in Bozeman for such a time as this, this one right here."
Here's what I've realized, though: I often only give credit to the big moments. I think God could have only called me to a place for the times with fanfare, where its obvious that I'm serving and obvious that he's working.
But.
What if I acknowledged that God worked in the little things, too? What if we, as a community, chose to pay attention to those as well? What if someone's for such a time as this is something as big as saving an entire population of people, but what if someone else's, equally-as-valid time was something seemingly little, like a smile or a conversation or a note in the mail?
What if we chose to realize that the "royal position" we're in might not look so royal, might not look so mighty, might not even look like our "for such a time as this," but we chose to celebrate and rejoice in it anyways?
What if we chose to enjoy the little things, knowing that God made every moment with the capacity for something special?
It's easy for me to rush. It's easy for me to be disgruntled with where I'm at. It's easy for me to focus on the next week, month, or year, and forget to pay attention to the moment I'm in. It's particularly true if that moment looks little.
I'm trying to cultivate, though, an appreciation for the little things. I want to realize that maybe God called me to this royal position, this one here on a Wednesday morning in Bozeman, Montana for such a time as this. And while they may look little, I want to notice and appreciate all the God-given qualities of this time.
I want to enjoy the little things, like the absolutely satisfying crunch that comes when I step on that perfectly crisp autumn leaf;
like the joy that comes from visiting an alpaca farm in much too cold weather;
like the privilege of watching my friends bob their heads along to music as we study, and realizing that I don't have to walk this stressed-out-college-life alone;
like the smell of fresh-washed sheets. Like the pleasure of little-kid hugs. Like the beauty of fall's changing colors. Like the opportunity to smile at someone who looks like they're struggling. Like the opportunity to smile at someone who doesn't look like they're struggling. Like the conversations I get to have all because I live here, in this space, at this time. I want to take advantage of all the opportunities to show Jesus's light that I have while I'm here, because those opportunities that seem little to me? They might just be huge to someone else.
All these little things that I have the opportunity, every day, to choose to enjoy and choose to use. All these little things that I'm learning to notice. All the little opportunities to respond to Christ. All these little things that, as I'm looking back on, I'm realizing are much bigger than I thought.
I don't know for sure why I'm here, at this time, in this place. I'm not convinced what specific "royal position" I'm occupying, and I don't think I'll ever know for absolute certain why I was called to Bozeman "for such a time as this."
But I know this time is important. I know this time is valuable and has purpose. I know this time is fully of things little and big.
Maybe I was called here for such a time as this.
I hope I take the time to enjoy it.
I like to blame it on the fact that I have two younger brothers.
Regardless, I really enjoy the movie Zombieland -- enough that I've been known to crash "Guys' Night" just so I could watch it (in my defense, literally every female I knew in Bozeman was out of town that weekend). In it, the main character Columbus has a list of rules he's developed to survive the zombie apocalypse. They're widely applicable statements that make decent advice for life in general, including rule #1: cardio; rule #4: seatbelts; and rule #22: When in doubt, know your way out.
My favorite rule, though, is #32: Enjoy the little things.
I want to be the kind of person that enjoys the little things. Often, though, I am so distracted by life and time that the little things -- which seem so, you know, little-- get shoved aside. There are moments when my time feels so stretched that my stress levels make it impossible to contemplate little things, let alone enjoy them. Past Mackenzie, particularly past-stressed-beyond-belief-Mackenzie (so, last-week-Mackenzie) scoffs at the mere idea of spending precious moments doing so.
In the midst of my musings on time, I found myself turning to the book of Esther. Like almost any other Christian woman, there's a fondness in my heart for Esther -- for this female who led in a time when women weren't empowered, for this woman who was to be immortalized in history during a time when women were overlooked. Her story gives me hope and inspiration.
Esther, though, is really the story of two women: a "beautiful young virgin" (Esther), and Queen Vashti. Vashti was the wife of King Xerxes, a man of great power. One day, Xerxes decided to throw a party. For seven days he hosted a lavish banquet, full of food and drink. On the last day of the banquet, when Xerxes was, as the Bible describes, "in high spirits from wine" (Esther 1:10), he asked Queen Vashti to come to him and so he could show off her beauty.
Now, I don't live in ancient Susa, nor do I live in a country with royalty. However, my guess is that based on the cultural customs of the time, if your husband asks you to do something, you say yes. Especially if he's the king.
Vashti said no.
In return, Xerxes said that she could never again come into his presence, and that he needed to find a new queen.
Enter Esther.
Esther was beautiful and young... and Jewish. Xerxes didn't know that, though. Eventually, he selected her to be the queen. One day, Esther's cousin Mordecai made Xerxes' official, Haman, angry because Mordecai wouldn't honor him. In return, Haman convinced Xerxes to destroy the Jews. Of course, he didn't know that this would include the new queen.
So here's Esther -- the only person in a position to potentially help her people, and she's not sure she can even do it. After saying so to Mordecai, he returns with a response that is probably the most often-quoted verse in the whole book: "And who knows that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14b, emphasis added).
Over the years, this verse has been one that God has used to remind me that there is always potential behind whatever season I'm in. Maybe I'm in a Vashti position, and I need to say no to make space for someone else to lead and say yes. Maybe I'm Esther, and it's my season to say yes and see how God uses it. There have been many moments this semester, as I watched friends decide to follow Jesus and form new relationships and take bold steps in faith, that I've thought to myself, "Maybe it's this. Maybe I'm still here in Bozeman for such a time as this, this one right here."
Here's what I've realized, though: I often only give credit to the big moments. I think God could have only called me to a place for the times with fanfare, where its obvious that I'm serving and obvious that he's working.
But.
What if I acknowledged that God worked in the little things, too? What if we, as a community, chose to pay attention to those as well? What if someone's for such a time as this is something as big as saving an entire population of people, but what if someone else's, equally-as-valid time was something seemingly little, like a smile or a conversation or a note in the mail?
What if we chose to realize that the "royal position" we're in might not look so royal, might not look so mighty, might not even look like our "for such a time as this," but we chose to celebrate and rejoice in it anyways?
What if we chose to enjoy the little things, knowing that God made every moment with the capacity for something special?
It's easy for me to rush. It's easy for me to be disgruntled with where I'm at. It's easy for me to focus on the next week, month, or year, and forget to pay attention to the moment I'm in. It's particularly true if that moment looks little.
I'm trying to cultivate, though, an appreciation for the little things. I want to realize that maybe God called me to this royal position, this one here on a Wednesday morning in Bozeman, Montana for such a time as this. And while they may look little, I want to notice and appreciate all the God-given qualities of this time.
I want to enjoy the little things, like the absolutely satisfying crunch that comes when I step on that perfectly crisp autumn leaf;
 |
| Disclaimer: This photo is definitely from last fall. However, please note the ladybug on my leg and enjoy that little thing. |
 |
| They had buck teeth and warm wool and didn't even smell that bad. |
 |
| They don't know I took this photo. |
All these little things that I have the opportunity, every day, to choose to enjoy and choose to use. All these little things that I'm learning to notice. All the little opportunities to respond to Christ. All these little things that, as I'm looking back on, I'm realizing are much bigger than I thought.
I don't know for sure why I'm here, at this time, in this place. I'm not convinced what specific "royal position" I'm occupying, and I don't think I'll ever know for absolute certain why I was called to Bozeman "for such a time as this."
But I know this time is important. I know this time is valuable and has purpose. I know this time is fully of things little and big.
Maybe I was called here for such a time as this.
I hope I take the time to enjoy it.
Comments
Post a Comment