Author: Jennie Scott

Grief has swept our nation, and my own heart is still tender.

Last week, a teenager not much older than the students I taught massacred 17 people by shooting them in cold blood.

Then he got a snack at McDonald’s.

Every day since this tragedy, the news — both official sources and the ever-growing social media kind of news — has been filled with a nonstop dissection of how it happened and why it happened and how to prevent it from ever happening again.

I have many opinions, to be sure. The maternal side of me has thoughts, as does the former educator. The rule follower in me who sees things in black and white has her opinions, but so does the always-questioning woman who has grown adept at playing the devil’s advocate.

But today, the opinion I will allow to have a voice comes from the most important person in me — the Christ follower. She, today, is the one who will speak.

And this is what she will say: It is not enough for us as believers to simply say, as the wide-sweeping solution to this tragedy and those of its kind, “This world just needs Jesus.“

If I have read that statement once from professing Christians, I have read it 100 times. On Facebook pages and Twitter posts, I have seen the proposed solution to attacks with assault rifles as, simply, Jesus.

Hear me, please. Yes. This world needs Jesus. But as someone who has read the Bible and believes all of its truths, I am here to remind you that this world has always rejected and will continue to reject Jesus and His ways. Scripture is clear.

When Christ lived as a human, his peers rejected His claims of deity and plotted to plan His death. Back then, people refused to see their own need for Jesus, and even now, the refusal continues.

So yes, the world needs Jesus more than it needs anything, but people have a choice. And people choose not to follow Him.

Not everyone will follow Christ.

So where does that leave us in a world where children die in the hallways of their schools as they run from people with guns? It cannot leave us just saying, “People need Jesus.” It must leave us saying, “Since people are infected with evil, what can we do to protect the innocent from them?”

It cannot leave us with our heads in the sand, waiting for Jesus to come back. It must leave us taking action to protect our children however we can and demanding that those in power over us do the same.

This country has laws demanding that we stop at red lights, since people are selfish and won’t just take turns in intersections. We have laws regulating the slaughter of animals, since companies don’t automatically just do the right things with our food. We have laws requiring us to be licensed before we drive cars, since cars are dangerous and can kill people.

We intrinsically know that people need regulation and accountability, in addition to their need for Jesus. We don’t rely on Jesus to protect us from bacteria in our milk — we rely on pasteurization. Why, then, would we rely on Jesus to stop bullets in the hands of madmen? We need practical human solutions using wisdom God gave us.

This means that we stop taking sides in a battle where no one wins. It means we acknowledge that this issue is multi-faceted and complex. School shootings are about guns AND mental health AND parenting AND school safety AND a culture where life is not valued AND many other things. To choose any one of these as the only issue to address is to choose naivete and to forfeit a real solution.

Here’s what I know for sure, this week as Florida high school students are attending their friends’ funerals. We cannot continue as we are. We cannot sit back and watch our children being slaughtered. We cannot ask our teachers to be the solution to a gunman on their campus. We cannot do nothing and think this problem will solve itself.

We cannot. Because it will not.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about women in my own 37 years, it’s that we feel immense pressure to be more than we can actually be.

I’m not suggesting that we’re not capable and intelligent and able to do great things; I’m suggesting that we are actual human beings with a limited amount of time, energy, and mental capacity, and it’s time we stop feeling shame for having these limitations.

It’s who we are, and it’s how we were created to be. Like it or not, it’s the truth.

We cannot do it all.

And those are the five words we all need to keep telling ourselves: “I cannot do it all.”

Somehow our culture has created and perpetuated the myth of the superwoman, a woman who magically accomplishes everything she ever dreamed of and who stays in a great mood while doing it.

Nope. She doesn’t exist.

The world around us expects us to be:

• skinny
• well-dressed
• intelligent but not threatening or dominating
• amazing housekeepers
• knowledgeable but not over-opinionated
• gourmet chefs who only use organic, home-grown produce

And it expects us to have:

• flawless skin, accentuated by perfect makeup
• flat stomachs, even after kids
• the wardrobe of a fashionista
• a side business in addition to our regular jobs and roles as wives/mothers
• pantries organized with glass jars and chalkboard labels

It’s exhausting, isn’t it, thinking about the expectations – even the unspoken ones – we face every single day? I think the unspoken expectations might be the hardest. Those are the ones we allow to fester in the dark places of our minds, silently and secretly wondering if we really should be doing more and really should be capable of adding just that one more thing to our list. The unspoken expectations are the ones we convince ourselves everyone else has a handle on because we never hear them addressing how unrealistic they are.

So let me address them now — those expectations are unrealistic. And you have no obligations to meet them.

You are not superhuman. You are not superwoman. And you don’t have to live up to anyone else’s expectations for what you should be doing or how you should be doing it.

Look at your life and take inventory. What must be done? Do it. What brings you joy? Do it. What do you do merely out of obligation? Stop doing it.

I wrote in my book Buried that you were neither made nor meant to do it all, and I believe that with every bit of who I am. God created each of us to play a specific role in His Kingdom, and that role is where we should be pouring all of our effort. Reality check: who cares if your pantry is disorganized if it means you’re fulfilling your true purpose?

It’s time we give ourselves permission to relax about the things that don’t matter, ignore the things that aren’t ours to manage, and resist the pressure to be what we’re not.

There’s freedom in saying no, and there’s value in scaling back. It’s OK to take a deep breath. It’s OK to have a night off. And it’s good sometimes to do less.

Let yourself believe it.

Today, I spoke these words when I saw my Facebook feed: “That’s it. If you don’t bring me joy, you’re gone.”

And I meant it.

I’ve written before about giving yourself permission to unfollow people on social media, and today I needed to take my own advice again. My feeds had become a cesspool of negativity, judgment, misunderstandings, and deliberate attacks. People who don’t even speak face to face fight via a keyboard. With every scroll, I became more irritated. I saw post after post of things that, in my view, didn’t need to be seen, said, or shared through this medium.

It’s like I forgot I had a choice. But it’s MY social media, and I don’t have to see what I don’t want to see. (And all the people said amen.)

So I scrolled and unfollowed, scrolled and unfollowed. And my heart got lighter with every click of the mouse.

It’s not that I only want to surround myself with people who agree with me and share my opinions. I don’t. I believe it’s super important to hear different views and be exposed to new ideas.

But that’s not what this is about. (And I think real life is the best place to do that, anyway.)

This is about deliberately exposing yourself to hundreds of people’s voices every day who are doing nothing to enhance your life, expand your thinking, or bring joy to your heart. It’s about whether or not you allow the toxicity of people’s poison to infiltrate your life.

I would never attempt to have coffee with hundreds of people every day and listen to all their thoughts on all the world. I would never invite scores of people to fill my den and then sit back as they all shout their thoughts at me while wallpapering the walls of my home with pictures, lyrics, and memes I find offensive. So why do I do exactly that through social media?

Here’s the reality of what social media is: a funnel of all the world’s opinions delivered directly to you. An unfiltered funnel, unless you take the initiative to filter it. And what I keep discovering in every part of my life, including online, is that it is insanity to listen to everyone’s opinions. We were not made to be endless consumers of everyone’s thoughts. We just weren’t.

I wish social media could just be fun and games. I kind of miss the days where people posted pictures of their meals and kids. But wishes are only granted in fairy tales. So for now, at least, social media is a lot of negativity. And Lord knows I don’t need any more of that weaseling its way into my life.

I love writer Emily P. Freeman, and she is always talking about making space for your soul to breathe. I think many of us have forgotten how to do that, and I know I often forget how desperately I need it. We need more white space in our lives. Without it, we become overstimulated and over-saturated. When we expose ourselves to too much, we can’t process any of it. We don’t naturally keep what is best and ignore everything else. It all begins to impact us. Especially the negative.

I just cannot allow the opinions of thousands to impact me every day. When I’m exposed to the opinions of thousands, it’s hard to hear the voice of my Savior. His voice is the one I need guiding me, and if that means I need to remove an app or set strict limits for myself, then that’s what I’ll do.

I need white space. I need life-giving words. I need joy and peace.

And I need to remember that social media isn’t always something I need.

I haven’t always been a runner, and I still don’t think of myself as an athlete. I was 26 years old (and 6 months postpartum) when I ran my first 5k, and I still find it hard to believe I’ve run two marathons.

So the fact that I ran over 1000 miles in a year sort of makes me giggle. But it’s also one of my greatest accomplishments.

You learn a lot about yourself (and life) any time you push yourself physically, and running many miles at a time definitely qualifies as pushing yourself physically. The fact that it’s a solitary sport also takes it to a different level. On training runs when you’re alone and just wanting to quit, you really learn what you’re made of and how much mental strength you have. Running, to me, is far more mental than physical.

So in 2017 as I ran 1003 miles, this is what I learned:

• You have to decide ahead of time that you’re going to run, no matter what. When the alarm goes off at 5 am or you realize you’ll be running when the heat index is over 100 degrees, it’s so easy to make excuses and talk yourself out of it. I’ve learned I have to eliminate the choice. If a run is scheduled, I run.
• The mind is what makes or breaks you. Sure, running is tough on your body, and there are definitely times when you have to listen to pain or injuries, but your brain will defeat you far quicker than your body will. I wish you could hear the way I talk to myself during tough runs. I tell myself things like, “Suck it up. Quit being a wimp. You can do anything for 30 more minutes. Think of all the people who wish they could be out here. If you could survive 2011, you can survive this run.” Whatever it takes.
• You will smell bad. So bad. There comes a point when your deodorant just can’t keep up (July in South Carolina) and this foul funk appears that cannot be washed out of your clothes. Throw them away and just buy more. 
• It helps 1000% to have a goal. It might be a certain race, a new distance, or an improvement goal such as a faster pace. But knowing why you’re working so hard and having something to measure can keep you going when you grow weary. Think of the goal as a dangling carrot. 
• People will think you’re crazy. There will be those who say, “I’m not running unless someone’s chasing me,” and they’ll make fun of the hours you devote to training. Don’t try to change their minds, and don’t get offended. Just know they don’t understand. 
• Running does not allow you to eat whatever you want. You only burn around 100 calories a mile, and as your body becomes more efficient, you might burn even fewer. You don’t need to take in a huge number of calories in order to run. Sad, but true. (I gained weight training for my first marathon. I wrongly assumed I could eat whatever I wanted. Wrong.)
• Shoes and running gear are important. Pay a little more money to get better quality. You need everything you wear to fit properly, provide support where you need it, and be comfortable. There is nothing worse than going out for a long run and feeling something rubbing with every step.
• Chafing is real. (See previous lesson.) Here’s what you might not know about runners: we all fear taking a shower after a long run. Why, you ask? Because the water reveals where the chafing was. As soon as the water hits your skin in a chafed area, the burning you feel makes you scream. Literally. Buy yourself some anti-chafing cream and lather yourself in it before a run. And if you discover an item of clothing that rubs, just get rid of it. Trust me on this one.
• It’s important to be aware of where bathrooms are at all times. Running is well-known to do a number on your digestive tract, no pun intended, and it is a nightmare to need a bathroom and not know where a close one is. Always scout out your route.
• Running with a friend can be a life saver. I was able to do some of my longest runs this year with a friend who trained for some of the same races I did, and her company made all the difference. She pushed me, I pushed her, and we finished. (She was also the one who kept me from losing my mind when we realized around mile 15 that our marathon had been measured incorrectly. It was too long. She kept me from quitting. And killing someone.)
• You are capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. Listen. We are all horribly talented at underestimating ourselves. We assume the worst, settle for the least, and accept the past of least resistance. But we are strong and capable and worthy of pushing ourselves. What I’ve learned from running is that we are always able to take one more step. Always. We can’t try to run the whole race at once, but as my running buddy told me, we have to run the mile we’re in. And that, perhaps, is the greatest lesson of all.