The Infinite More

A life coach told me once that my saboteur was restlessness.

Lingering deep in a source-unidentified childhood memory is this hazy black and white picture of a very proper lady with coiffed hair in a crisp apron. Her saccharine voice floats across a whitewashed fence as she peers over at her not-so-well-off neighbor’s unkempt yard, 

“Well. God helps those who help themselves, now, doesn’t He?” 

The statement was fingernails on a chalkboard to my young ears, emblazoned in my memory. Hard work was a value instilled in me from a young age, as was the importance of trusting God. Life went on and my pride grew a little larger. My faith grew, too, but it still became easy to see the things I’d accomplished in life as if they were born out of sweat and a little luck. Thanks, God. How can this God help me unless I’m doing something He can help me with? Passivity gets you nowhere. Can He use someone who is sitting around praying for a divine direction and a waiting for a handout?

Not in my Book of Personal Autonomy. 

If I had to choose a favorite sin, it’s control. When I parted ways with a fast-paced career in tech almost three months ago, the analogy that kept coming to my mind was a train.

You know those old-school levers that the railway station managers would heave-and-ho with all their brawn in old movies to redirect the trains?¹ I felt like I had been driving my train full-speed ahead, tossing up a sincere but hurried prayer to God: 

If I’m on the wrong track, pull the lever! 

In feeling led to take a sabbatical it feels like God didn’t just pull the lever to redirect me, but He whispered quietly:

Hey Liv, tap the brakes. Let’s pull off at the next station. Get out and stretch your legs. Why don’t you walk a little ways?

Three months in I’m still reminding myself every day that slowing down with purpose is a good thing. Essential, really. And not that big of a deal, in the grand scheme of time. When you’re grinding away in the moment, you never look back and think, “Man, wish I wouldn’t have rested before diving into all this work!”

I can let go of my own outcomes and trust God explicitly.

When am I doing enough? Where is the line between patience and laziness? A life coach told me once that my saboteur was restlessness. Seeking excitement and variety over comfort and safety. Not wanting to miss an opportunity. Always looking for the Infinite More. 

When do I be still and trust, and when is it time to start moving? How much do I trust God, and how much action do I take?

Tim Keller lays it out with such grace:

We are 100% responsible and God is 100% in charge.

We can mess things up penultimately, but ultimately we can’t. The burden of responsibility is entirely on us, and yet entirely lifted from our shoulders and in the hands of God at the same time. Trust and autonomy, in parallel. 

Duality, it gets me every time.

1. If you aren’t familiar with train tracks