20 Things I Wish I'd Known in My Late Twenties
March 5, 2014
Kelli Worrall is a writer, speaker, and teacher in Chicago. She lives in the burbs with her husband and two adorable children. Read more at www.thisoddhouse.org or follow her on Twitter.
Truth be told ... I didn’t want to write this.
Oh, I know. List-y essays are all the rage. That’s partly why I balked. The non-conformist in me.
See, my husband Peter and I work with twentysomethings. And we think they are wonderful. But when we speak on their dormitory floors or invite them into our home, they often ask us: “What is the most important piece of advice you would give to us?” I never answer well. Dozens of thoughts start swirling around in my head, and I can never grab ahold of what I would deem to be “the most important” one. Instead, I just stutter and stammer and try to say something sensible.
So, for any of you who have ever asked me that question and been disappointed, this one is for you.
Here are 20 things I might have told myself in my twenties:
1. Examine your foundation carefully.
It’s your worldview. Look deeply at what you value and what you believe about God and man and truth and reality. And make it your own. Because it will affect every decision you make. And because life has a way of picking you up and tossing you around. You always want to nail the landing.
2. Seek healing.
Don’t imagine that the trauma of your childhood has been left in the past. It simmers under the surface. And it will surprise you at how suddenly it can boil up or suck you under. The work of healing those hard places might involve reading books or finding counseling. (Don’t be too afraid or too ashamed to ask for help.)
3. Remain teachable.
More specifically, find a mentor—a parent, a pastor, a teacher, a spiritual guide. Or just a person who is living as you would like to live. Spend time with them. Look and listen and learn. And, most importantly, be different because of them.
4. Choose your community carefully.
Your friends will give shape to your life. They will either stunt your growth or spur you on. And when you find good friends, keep them. They are like gold. Treasure them. Invest in them. Spur them on too. Be the kind of friend that you would like to have.
5. Feed yourself.
Feed your body, your mind and especially your soul. When your soul is starving, you can’t see straight. So learn what sort of nourishment you need—a group Bible study? A worship song? A long run? An art project? A prayer with a friend? This is an individual matter, so take the time to figure out what fills you up.
6. Foster good habits.
As Annie Dillard said, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” So don’t wait until tomorrow to get up early, go to bed on time, exercise enough, save money and so on. The patterns of your life today are the person you will become.
7. Learn to rest.
Though this could fall under “foster good habits,” for me, it deserves its own point. I am terrible at it. And I can trace this trouble back to my twenties—when I was single and lonesome and (more) insecure. And to distract myself, I filled my days and nights to overflowing. A bit fuller and more frenetic each year. So I would tell my twentysomething self that busy is not better. And your worth is not measured by the length of your to-do list.
8. Take sin seriously.
There is no such thing as “getting away with it.” Even if you don’t “get caught.” Though grace is gigantic and forgiveness is free, sin does still stain. And the spot will undoubtedly spread further and sink deeper than you can initially see.
9. Be patient.
Learn to wait well. You are used to getting things in an instant and on demand. But life doesn’t always work that way. Neither does God. His timing is rarely yours. But His is always right. He doesn’t rush. And He never delays. Instead, He unfolds a plan carefully designed and perfectly timed to bring Him glory. (More on that later.)
10. Don’t worry.
It’s a waste of time, energy and emotion. Worry will tie you in knots. Keep you up at night. Make you cranky and crazy. Nothing good ever comes of it. Worry is fear for the future, but worry does nothing to actually change it. So instead of worrying, make the best decisions you can right now. That’s all you can do. Then let it be.
11. Evaluate your emotions.
They are tricky. And they can be trouble. Often, they spring up from our triggered trauma. For example, let’s say (hypothetically) your husband says something about your blog. He might mean it innocently, even positively. But (hypothetically) you hear it differently. And you immediately feel threatened, defensive, hurt. All of your (hypothetical) insecurity swells to the surface in an instant. You can go with it. Milk it. Act on it. Hurt him back. Or you can do the better thing and take it back to truth.
12. Adjust your expectations.
So much of our disappointment and frustration—with people, with life, with God—occurs because we presume that life should go our way. I still remember the Friday night when the light bulb of this lesson first switched on for me. I was driving home from work, mulling over my expectations for the weekend and already becoming irritated, knowing that they wouldn’t be met. So I decided to change them. Simple as that. I made the very conscious decision to rewrite my personal plan for those two days. And I put only one thing on my new agenda: “Love Peter well.” That I could do. And I was in no way disappointed.
13. Take risks.
Follow God’s leading boldly into the unknown. Beyond the horizon of your comfort zone. As a wise friend advised me when we were trying to decide whether or not to put our hearts on the line to foster our now-adopted son Daryl, “Do what you won’t regret.”
14. Press into pain.
While no one wants to experience pain, you will. Don’t be shocked. Don’t run from it. Don’t ignore it. Don’t fight it. Let it burn. Let it melt your heart. But never fear that God has abandoned you to the flame. He is there. His presence is unwavering. He is pursuing you and purging the dross. You are not being punished. You are being purified.
15. Realize that your life is not about you.
It’s about God and His glory. I used to repeatedly recite this mantra to myself when a big project loomed and I feared the outcome. Would I succeed or fail? Would my reputation rise or fall? “It’s not about me. It’s all about Him.” I said it over and over and over again. Still do. And if He receives more glory from your failure, so be it. Accepting this takes all of the pressure off.
16. Maintain an eternal perspective.
Train your eyes on this hope, this inheritance, that will “never perish, spoil or fade.” That is “kept in heaven for you.” For it is in this that you are “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.” Peter (the Apostle, not the husband) said it better than I ever could. So we’ll leave it at that.
17. Embrace grace.
Accept it with open arms and open heart. Hold it tight until it soaks into your soul. Then release it. Give it away. To your family, to your friends, to your church. When I was a twentysomething, my church was falling apart. The pastor left. The leadership couldn’t agree. And the congregation was about to split. I was disillusioned and critical. Sitting in judgment over all of them. Looking down my nose with disgust. But that posture helps no one, and it is not your place. Instead, be a conduit for grace.
18. Live loved.
Wake up every morning and—before you put your feet to the floor—let your mind and heart linger on the fact that the Creator of the Universe loves you passionately, completely, unconditionally and eternally. Nothing matters more than this. This one truth can change absolutely everything.
19. Never, ever get another perm.
(A digression, I know. And yes, it is included because I needed one more point to make 20. But, really, it deserves to be said. Right? I’m pretty sure you were already thinking it.)
20. Finally, prepare to be amazed.
Your life may look something like you envision. Or it may take you to places that you never imagined. Regardless. Hold on tight. Because God is in the business of blowing your mind.