grace vs. grit

How do we know the difference between moments that require more grit and moments that require extra grace?

Good morning, my friends, and happy Wednesday! It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written to you. My kids started school last week, and as our summer dwindled, I found myself wanting to soak up the last few days—no computer, no scrambling to get my newsletter written. I just wanted to be with my kids and take things slow. And you know what? In between refereeing the sibling fights and all the laundry piles, it was pretty magical. 

Last week, I almost popped on here to tell you I’d be back with more writing next week, but then I had to check in with myself and ask why I wanted to do that. Why did I feel the need to apologize or explain away my absence? Why couldn’t I just live my life and expect you to do the same? So I didn’t get on here and send out a quick newsletter. I decided to let it be and let it go and believe that I’d be back at my desk again the following week. 

Guys—this is huge. This is progress! A few years ago, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to resist sending out an apology email, overexplaining my choices, and subconsciously seeking your validation and reassurance. And I certainly wouldn’t have been able to skip writing my newsletter a few weeks in a row. Not a chance. I would’ve forced myself to sit down and do it. And I would’ve worn that compulsion like a badge of honor. 

Most of the time, big changes don’t happen overnight, but rather it’s a collection of days and weeks and months and years made up of little choices here and there, the subtle shifts and course corrections that say, “I’m not who I once was.” 

It feels good to see progress, to know that by the grace of God, He’s helping me change. He’s helping me live a less anxious life. He’s showing me how to practice creativity without tying any results to it. 

But it’s got me thinking: how do we know the difference between moments that require more grit and moments that require extra grace? Can we recognize when we need to push through versus when we need to pull back?

To be honest, I don’t have the answer. This is something I’m still figuring out, and I have a feeling I’m going to be puzzling my way through it for a long time. But I do know that it comes down to a few questions: 

What am I trying to feel? 

What am I trying to prove? 

What am I trying to outrun? 

If I ask myself those questions and answer them honestly, I can usually gauge whether or not the situation requires grit or grace. Here’s an example. 

I haven’t worked on my novel for the past few weeks for the same reason I didn’t write my newsletter; I wanted the extra time with my kids as the rest of our summertime melted away like a popsicle out in the Arizona sun. And even though I was choosing not to write for a reason that I liked, I could feel my brain spinning in resistance. 

But I have to work on my book! If I’m not consistent, it will never get done. If I don’t show up for myself, who will? If I don’t have a daily habit of writing, my creative muscles will weaken and die. I need to finish this first draft; it’s taking too long. 

Notice how all that brain chatter is panicky and rooted in anxiety. Notice how all those thoughts are just thoughts—none of it is actually true. So after listening to that chatter, I asked myself a few questions. 

What am I trying to feel? Answer: I want to feel accomplished. 

What am I trying to prove? Answer: That I can write another book. 

What am I trying to outrun? Answer: My anxious self. I believe that if I beat her down with productivity, that version of me will finally feel appeased and validated (spoiler alert: it doesn’t work—she can never get enough validation).

After I thought through those answers, I realized I didn’t like any of them. Those answers weren’t in line with who I want to be. They were fear-based and not on track with the faith-filled life I’m seeking after. 

Because the truth is, I have nothing to prove, and neither do you.

Over the past few years, I’ve learned that most situations in life require extra helpings of grace rather than more white knuckled grit. Yes, we must have courage. Yes, we must exercise discipline. But our true grit comes from relying on Jesus Christ, not depending on our own strength. And relying on Jesus Christ looks like living a life surrounded by grace. 

I used to put far more pressure on myself to always “get it right,” but what does that even mean? Living life like that, on the endless search for unattainable perfection, just left me feeling frustrated and angry with myself. 

Why couldn't I ever get this right? 

Now I know the answer to that question. 

I was never supposed to.

I was never supposed to do this on my own. And even though I recognize that as truth, some part of me keeps trying to rewrite the ending, to craft it into one where I become the hero of my story. But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much rewriting I do, no matter how many fistfuls of pages I tear out, the ending stays the same: it always ends in my surrender to God. God, who is always right. God, who knows all. 

Now, whenever my brain starts feeling agitated again, searching for that forever out of reach “just right” feeling, I whisper to myself, “Only Jesus Christ is just right,” and that brings me the peace I’m craving and unable to produce on my own. That brings me the grace I need, which in turn strengthens my resolve to try again, hand in hand with my Maker. 

Grace and git—maybe they’re not so different after all. Maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other. 

It’s so nice to be back with you this week. It feels good to sit at my desk and clack away on my keyboard, letting the words pour out just like I knew they would again. But most of all, it feels good to be here because I’m here for the right reasons, no validation necessary. 

What a relief. What a change.

Have a grace-filled week and be kind to yourself! I’m always praying for you.