Around this time last year, I was in the throes of navigating a conflict of moral values with a dear friend. The process was one of painful reflection and growth and I thought that perhaps some of my discoveries along the way might prove useful to others who find themselves in similar rocky situations. 

Insight #1: “Live and let live” only works to a point.
In my recent experience, the point of no return was when my friend started actively living in spiritual disorder. It was one thing to know she believed in and supported this disorder. After all, this errant belief wasn’t her entire identity, and we had lots in common outside this realm of friction. That’s why the friendship worked as long as it did. But when she embraced this disorder and it became an active part of her daily life, then I knew something had to change. 

Insight #2: Healthy boundaries begin and end with safety.
I had to reflect long and hard on the extent to which I could express my abiding care and respect for this friend while not condoning lifestyle choices that I believe are in spiritual disorder. Similarly, she had to express her own boundaries, given my opposing beliefs. In other words, we both needed to feel safe in our relationship. In order to do that, we had to accept each other’s boundaries. We ultimately realized that this wasn’t possible and that the friendship had run its course. Wishing this friend farewell was the right thing to do given the circumstances, and it was also one of the hardest things I have ever willingly chosen to do.

Insight #3: I can only control my choices and reactions.
I had to let go of this person’s reactions to my stating my boundaries. I had no control over her feelings or her choices. I only had control over mine. Letting go of her responses to my boundaries was a really arduous process. After all, I like being liked. It tore me up thinking that someone I held dear might hold my values in contempt. In this process, I developed a nasty tendency to fabricate imaginary “what if” conversations and scenarios in which I spoke for both myself and my friend. Doing that is just a tangled up terrible idea. I can’t predict the reactions of others. I can’t control their reactions either. I have to let the “what ifs” go and hold firm to my truth, as lovingly as I can.

Insight #4: Where moral principles are concerned, honesty is okay even if it hurts.
One of the hardest things about defining and then communicating my moral boundaries was that it resulted in hurting someone I care about very much. A distaste for conflict and a fear of forever altering (and ultimately damaging) a relationship I had cherished, meant that it took me an embarrassingly long time to stand up for my beliefs. Drawing it out like that led to my friend feeling betrayed. That wasn’t fair to either of us. I wish I had spoken up sooner, but the hells really like to use pain as a weapon. They wanted to make me feel guilty for causing pain. They also wanted me to fear feeling pain. But spiritual growth and boundary-setting can and will be painful sometimes. Pain doesn’t mean it’s wrong. I regret that I may have deepened the pain by waiting so long to set my boundaries, but I don’t regret setting them. 

Insight #5: Balancing compassion and zeal is crucial.
Of course, it’s important to set boundaries as compassionately and respectfully as possible. It isn’t wrong to care about hurting another person’s feelings. We are supposed to care! But, as I navigated this difficult situation with my friend, I found myself slipping so far into guilt and worry about her reactions, that I nearly forgot why I was setting these boundaries in the first place. Something I love, something I believe the Lord tells us is right and good, was being violated. It was right to stand up for it. I could honor her free will to reject what I believe, but I had to put just as much, if not more energy into remembering why I’ve chosen to uphold this belief. 

Insight #6: Pray, accept your choice, and move on.
Dealing with this moral conflict was a huge growing experience for me. I had to pray a lot, asking the Lord for guidance on what to say and for confidence that I was doing the right thing, even if it was hard. I did not handle this situation perfectly. But I can confidently say that I did my best to follow the Lord’s teachings. That’s as much as I can ask of myself or of anyone. After that, I had to pray for the willingness to hand the situation over to the Lord and move forward on my own spiritual journey. I trust that my friend, like all human beings, is in His loving hands. I don’t have to carry this burden anymore. He’s got it. 

“Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. But beware of men, for they will deliver you up to councils and scourge you in their synagogues. You will be brought before governors and kings for My sake, as a testimony to them and to the Gentiles. But when they deliver you up, do not worry about how or what you should speak. For it will be given to you in that hour what you should speak; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.

Now brother will deliver up brother to death, and a father his child; and children will rise up against parents and cause them to be put to death. And you will be hated by all for My name’s sake. But he who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in this city, flee to another. For assuredly, I say to you, you will not have gone through the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes.

A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for a disciple that he be like his teacher, and a servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more will they call those of his household! Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.

Whatever I tell you in the dark, speak in the light; and what you hear in the ear, preach on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”

Matthew 10:16-31

There are lots of analogies to describe what grief is like. One that especially resonates with me is that grief is like a hole in the floor of our house. When the loss is fresh, it seems that we can’t escape the room that has the gaping hole in it. It looms large before us and we fear falling in and never being able to crawl back out. 

Eventually, we find that we are able to navigate carefully around the hole and maybe even venture to other rooms in our house. But sometimes, when we aren’t paying attention, we will suddenly find the hole right at our feet, threatening to pull us over the edge. This happens when unexpected things trigger our grief—a certain smell, a date on the calendar, coming across a memento, or just because it’s time—whether we like it or not—to feel the hard feelings again.

As more time passes, we wind up spending less and less time in the room with the hole in the floor. The hole is still there, of course. It doesn’t get smaller. But, if we let it, the house gets bigger. And herein lies the key to growing with grief. We can only extend this metaphorical house of ours if we allow the Lord to be the Architect. If we hand our lives over to the Him, including all of our joy and all of our sorrow, He will expand our dwelling into a veritable palace. He will enrich our lives by adding countless rooms full of experiences, memories, opportunities, and love. So much love. The new love in our lives doesn’t erase our loss, but it can soften the edges of it. 

I’m sure I’m not alone in being frequently overwhelmed by my to-do list. Or rather, lists. Sometimes it seems I’m wearing so many hats that I might as well be Bartholomew Cubbins.

Many of us could probably do with less on our plates, but for the purpose of this article, I’d actually like to focus on what a blessing busy-ness can be. While I’ve had a few near panic attacks of late, I have also had a positive realization that I hope might be helpful to some of you. That realization is this:

Having things to do is a blessing. They are signs that I’m really living.

Sometimes I feel as though I am desperately waiting for the next chance to rest. Rest is good. The Lord built rest into the very fabric of creation, so we know that it’s divinely recommended. But is rest the point of living? No. The point of living is to be useful. Yes, we can (and often do) take on too much. But if we strike some kind of balance between rest and busy-ness, then having chock full days of errands and chores can truly be a blessing. They are a sign that we are deeply alive, humming with uses. 

We read a lot of children’s books in our house. One of my longstanding favorites is “The Pout-Pout Fish” by Deborah Diesen. The Pout-Pout Fish follows the tale (or should I say “tail”) of an Eeyore-esque fish with big pouty lips. As he gloomily encounters his underwater friends, they each urge him to try being a little more pleasant. But the Pout-Pout Fish is stuffed to the gills with excuses for why he is incapable of change:

“I hear what you’re saying, but it’s just the way I am.”
“I’d like to be more friendly, but it isn’t up to me.”
“But I haven’t any choice. Take a look and you’ll see why.”
“With a mouth like mine, I am destined to be glum.”

He follows each of these excuses with the same refrain:

“I’m a pout-pout fish
With a pout-pout face,
So I spread the dreary-wearies
All over the place.
Blub 
Bluuub
Bluuuuuuub”

Poor Mr. Fish. He is stuck believing that just because he looks pouty, his personality has to match. I can’t help but think how often human beings wind up stuck in a similar merry-go-round of melancholy.