A One-Way Ticket
I write this from a Southwest Airlines flight, somewhere over the southeast United States. For the first time in my life, I bought a one-way airplane ticket. One way to Nashville, Tennessee. One way means this move is really happening—there’s no turning back.
When I flew over the island of Manhattan at 7:30 this morning, it was for my final time as a New York City resident. My license, my voters ID card, my library card, my mailing address—all have got to go. A new chapter is upon me.
I’ve lived in this city for just about four years. I knew after interning here in college that this was the place for me, in all its busyness and hustle and coffee-soaked dreams. I would be a magazine editor. I’d work at a women’s glossy and climb my way to the top, racking up free beauty products, fashion closet giveaways, and exclusive event invites along the way.
I’d see my name in lights—or rather, inside the pages of my favorite monthly magazine as a member of the masthead, a valued editor and regular contributor. I would not only meet but exceed the potential I was told I had in journalism school. I’d go beyond everyone’s expectations of me. I’d put that journalism degree to work and demonstrate the definition of success. If I could make it in New York City, I could make it anywhere.
And make it, I did. Magazine job, check. Manhattan apartment, check. Nights on the town, check. In some ways, I felt like a young Carrie Bradshaw (minus the Manolos and walk-in closet). Life wasn’t perfect by any means. But I was living the life I’d envisioned, a life I wanted others to see and admire. I felt good.
Around year two, things shifted. I lost my magazine job as the publication folded. New relationships blossomed while others faded away. The biggest shift: Old destructive habits resurfaced and my restrictive eating tendencies came back into play. I was relapsing in my recovery. I knew my life had to change.
I became more intrigued by church and my Christian community. I started to really hear what living for Christ meant. God placed a few women in my life who came alongside me in all the messiness. They loved me and showed me how life could change with a relationship with Jesus at the center. The more I invested in the Lord, the more parts of life that didn’t really matter began to fall away. His hand was on me then—and I saw how it had always been. He was calling me to a life of serving Him, loving Him, and ordering all other loves after Him. Slowly but surely, work took on new meaning. I no longer defined success as climbing the top of the career ladder. Work was a way to use my gifts to further His kingdom. The allure of the Carrie Bradshaw life lost its luster. I craved a simpler, quieter, and more peaceful existence. And God amazingly provided that in the craziness that is NYC.
For every year I spent here, I felt Him asking me to root in. He wanted me here. That was clear. So then why the move away?
Because I believe He is calling me to Nashville, Tennessee. It’s that simple and that complex.
I’ve known for a while that New York City wasn’t the place I wanted to stay forever—but I was open to that possibility should God ask me to. I continued to invest in New York. I called this city my home. I made friends here who are like family. I became a Believer here. It’s a place close to my heart.
I knew I’d need a clear and bold call from God in order to leave it. And that’s exactly what God did.
A year ago, God brought a man into my life who selflessly loves me and encourages me in my walk with Him. This man has done so despite 888 miles between us. As we grew in our relationship, Nashville—his home—became more of a reality for me. Yet I wasn’t convinced. How would I know if this was the right choice? How would I leave behind the community and passions the Lord cultivated in me in New York? I prayed about it almost daily. We prayed about it as a couple and sought counsel from those far wiser than us.
My journal entries for the past few months reflect this longing to know what would be next:
"God, place me where you will use me most."
"Father, help me listen to your call. I pray you light my steps. Grant me wisdom and confidence in my decisions, always running toward you."
"Father, I pray for trust in your plan. Help me trust in you. You have me in New York City, in this particular job, in this long-distance relationship, for a reason. You’re growing me and showing me more of your goodness. I praise you for that. Give me courage and help me to listen to your call for me. I need clarity in it, but I trust you to direct me. Help me to surrender, to find true freedom in you."
"Lord, keep me humble, keep me small, keep me reliant on you. I pray you place me where you’re going to use me most. Grand me wisdom and clarity in my decision-making. Help me to trust you and surrender to you in all things. I pray for protection in this process and for peace. I praise you, Lord. Amen."
The prayers poured out of me.
In August, God pointed me to a job at a church in the Nashville area. I was on the church’s website, looking around and about to listen to a sermon. Somehow I found myself on their jobs page—with a communications position staring right back at me. As I read through the job description, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Communications, marketing, social media, storytelling, ministry. The job seemed to be describing me. I applied immediately, and I interviewed on the phone three days later. I’ve never felt quite so encouraged, believed in, and supported during an interview. (And I’ve had some wonderful jobs and bosses.) My potential employer had read through my blog, even my testimony. He told me how it was an encouragement to him and how I clearly have a gift.
My excitement for the position grew. I completed an edit test and more interviewing. I prayed, and I journaled. I talked to those closest to me. I also doubted. I doubted that this was the right job for me. I doubted that I would be able to make a decent living in this role. I doubted that I would like the city, the church, the culture. I doubted a lot of things—all things that ultimately don’t mean anything if this is where God wants me. If this was God’s will, He would provide.
I was offered the job in a phone call a mere two weeks later. Not only that, but God went above and beyond in providing a salary, a title, and all the other material benefits of a job that I had hoped for. As I listened to my future boss offer me the job and explain why he wanted me on the team, I burst into tears. I cried the sort of crocodile tears that run down your chin and neck and smear your mascara. The tears that make a passerby stop to give you an entire tissue box (yes, really). I sweat completely through my shirt, and I felt like I might throw up. My reaction was one of pure joy, excitement, and disbelief. I was overwhelmed with God’s goodness in providing for me in every single way. I couldn’t quite believe the offer was real.
I went to visit the church and meet my potential colleagues that weekend. As happy as I was, I’ll be honest: I was uncomfortable. This Southern church is the complete opposite of how I grew up and totally different from my home in New York City. I wasn’t sure I’d fit in. I wasn’t convinced this was the best move for me because it was such a stark contrast to what I was used to. Leaving a great life behind seemed crazy.
This all felt crazy.
But the more I prayed, the more I understood how God wanted me to take a step of obedience. He wanted me to boldly walk in faith and courage. He’d be there with me through it all. He orchestrated it to begin with. All summer, I’d been leading women through a book study of Wild and Free—and how we can only live that way through Christ. This job opportunity is about as wild and free as it gets. God opened a door for me in a major way. It was time for me to go through it.
So on September 5, I accepted that job. I made the decision to move across the country—for a job, for love, and ultimately, for Jesus.
God has provided for me abundantly since then. He brought my roommate and me a great girl to take over my room in our apartment. He helped me sell all my furniture. He opened up my best friend’s schedule, allowing her a whole Saturday to travel from Pennsylvania and spend with me in the city. He gave me brothers in Christ who used their muscle to help me pack up and ship 50-pound boxes with all my belongings. He opened up a one-bedroom apartment for me that’s 15 minutes away from work, 15 minutes away from my favorite coffee shop downtown, and 10 minutes away from the man I love. He connected me with trustworthy car dealers to help facilitate that next step in the moving process. He gave me time to leave my job well and bid farewell to friends in the city.
God has tied up all the seemingly loose ends in a matter of three weeks’ time. The crazy decision to move doesn’t seem so crazy any more.
I’ve cried only a little bit about the move, and I praise God for that. My excitement is pure and deep. I know there will be growing pains with moving here. I know there will be moments of “What am I doing?”, times when I feel out of place in the South, when I dislike living in an apartment by myself, when I wish I could just walk to a coffee shop without getting in my car. But I believe in my heart God wants me to press into those feelings of uncomfortableness. I am not here by accident. God has me placed me exactly where He wants me to be, where He will use me most. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord.
I can see the landscape of Tennessee as we fly closer. It’s beautiful.
“Folks, we should be touching down in about 15 minutes. Weather in Nashville is a little bit of misty skies but nothing too terrible, temperature of about 78 degrees Fahrenheit. We’ll be on the ground momentarily.”
Okay, Nashville, I’m ready for you.
Now I Know Why God Created A Sabbath
I spent the past four blissful days in remote Vermont. No cell service. No Internet. No TV. No iPad. No social media. It was glorious.
As a girl who's utterly always connected, going cold turkey and removing myself from all of those outlets made me feel like a million bucks. The camp where we stayed was remote, surrounded by nature and separate from all the distractions that usually take over. I sometimes feel chained to my phone. But without service, I had no use for it. The phone stayed in my bag, and I stayed outside enjoying the beauty around me.
The photo above doesn’t do the place justice. I stood on the dock that morning, overlooking the unreal splendor of the pond and sky in front of me, and listened to my breath. Inhale. Exhale. Just listening. I'm fairly certain my heart was pumping slower than it has in three and a half years.
The peace and tranquility of that moment felt like a dream. I finally understood why God created a sabbath.
“And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done.”
God Himself rested. After Vermont, it was evident to me that He commands us to rest for a reason.
It's rare that I slow down enough to sit with my own thoughts. To rest and to appreciate the stillness. I'm a multi-tasker, and I prefer to stay busy. I treat productivity like a virtue. Even as I write this post, I have seven other tabs open in my browser, waiting for me should I need a quick distraction or think of something else I need to read or do. At some point, stopping, sitting, and resting became equal to failure in my book. Stillness is a challenge for me. (Is it any surprise I live in New York City?)
Take for example a recent yoga class I attended. We were practicing chair pose, as I’ve practiced a hundred times before. Yet on this particular day, for whatever reason, my thighs were shaking. Not the normal burning like you’d expect, but legitimately shaking and telling me to stop. We’re always instructed in yoga to take a child’s pose, the resting pose, at any point in class if we need to. I never do. I want to keep flowing, keep moving, keep progressing and getting better. For the first time, I took a child’s pose. My fellow yogis were sitting in their chair poses while I stretched on my mat.
I heard an onslaught of lies that I’m not strong enough or fit enough—that I need to work harder. I tried to figure out why I needed to rest. I drank plenty of water that day, I ate a snack before I came to class, I had a good night’s sleep. Why couldn’t I fix this? Why was I failing?
But I wasn’t failing. I was becoming stronger by listening to my body. Stronger by surrender to Him.
So I sat there in silence as I said a little prayer. I prayed against those lies. I reflected on how God give us rest. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
Sometimes all we can do is take a child’s pose. We can take a second to breathe and rest. Let your body flop, your eyebrows lower, your jaw loosen, and your belly expand. We’re so tightly wound we forget what rest looks like. We think we have to “do it all” and that by expertly shaping our days, we become good and just. Let me tell you, though, God doesn’t care what our circumstances or our experiences are. He doesn't care how packed our calendars are. He cares about the state of our hearts and whether we're spending time with Him. Whether we're living for Him.
A few days after this yoga class, I heard a sermon from our associate pastor on Galatians. (Side note: I highly recommend Galatians if you’re looking for a solid introduction to Scripture. It’s short, but it’s beautiful and impactful.) The pastor preached on walking in the power of the Spirit.
Paul says to the Galatians, “Did you receive the spirit by works or by faith? Does He who supplies the spirit to you and works among you do so by works of the law, or by hearing by faith?”
In other words, “Are you now trying to obtain your goal by human effort?”
I knew my answer was one hundred percent, yes. I thought I needed more water, stretching, strength training, and sheer willpower in order to successfully sit in that chair pose. What I really needed was to stop striving. I had to stop trusting in my own efforts. I needed to let go and let God, and to remind myself that my achievements have no bearing on my standing with God.
The next time I went to yoga, I nailed the chair pose. I sat lower than I had previously. My legs seemed stronger. And I didn’t do anything different except to not do anything. I talked to God, and I surrendered my body to Him. It’s a lesson that applies to more than yoga practice.
I trust in my job, my bank account, my relationships, my physical appearance. I trust in my perceived ability to control my life. As my pastor said, because of brokenness, we’re designed to want to complete ourselves. This means I end up trusting in myself and my own desires more than I trust in Him.
"If I'm busy, that means I have worth and value and significance. If my calendar's full, then my heart will be full as well. I'm also busy because I don't trust in God's power and God's timing in my life. I feel that I need to take control because God is not working fast enough. I want progress to happen at my own pace, and that pace is usually different from God's plans."
Busyness and constant movement do not lead to a full heart. Instagram likes and Facebook invites most certainly do not. Pushing, planning, and striving are not the way to Heaven. God calls us to work hard for Him and His kingdom. The other stuff is just periphery.
How would life change if every day I woke up thinking of how I could best serve God today?
Serving him comes in many forms—including rest and prayer. I’m pretty sure I’m not serving Him when I’m pushing my body past its point of ability, or when I’m so tuned in to my phone that I have a more active relationship with Siri than I have with Him. God continues to show me the inherent value of rest and a Sabbath. He gave me time in Vermont to further illuminate how important stillness is in my walk with Him.
We walk in the power of the Holy Spirit through faith and faith alone. That’s a hard concept for me to grasp, but God’s grace makes it all possible. I’m working on being more still and more prayerful. I’m creating space between me, my phone, and my social media platforms. We need some time apart to refresh my soul. I may not be writing on this blog as much, but I hope to be writing more in my journal and in my prayers to God. I’m praying for faith and trust in Him above all. I pray for rich quiet time in His presence. Those other things of this world can all be put on hold. Ultimately, they do not matter. I pray He would be my deepest love and greatest joy. Let’s give Him room to work and to use us how He best sees fit. I have a feeling He will show us even more of His glory, bless others through us, and make us increasingly more like Him when we do.
If you want to talk more about Jesus Christ and faith and what-the-heck-is-all-this-stuff, shoot me a message. I love meeting new people, whether virtually or in person, and gabbing about life.
And if you'd like to know more of my story, you can read my testimony here.
Truly, He makes beautiful things.
I Want To Make My Name Known
Last week the Forbes 30 Under 30 list came out. I saw all the tweets, Facebook posts, and LinkedIn statuses. I read through the multiple lists (yes, there are more than one), and I made a mental note of all the young women in media, marketing, communications, and tech. The 25-year-old head of marketing at a rising company. The 28-year-old co-creators of a brilliant email newsletter. The 18-year-old founder of a magazine.
They’ve done so much in their short lives. They made the cut. They’ve been recognized and carved into history.
My heart so badly desires what these under-30s have: acknowledgement, approval, achievement, success, influence. They are making an impact, and the world knows about it. Forbes makes sure you’re aware of it:
“From an initial screening list of more than 15,000 of the best of the best, the 600 women and men featured in the Forbes fifth annual 30 Under 30 are America’s most important young entrepreneurs, creative leaders and brightest stars. Name a business sector, social issue or essential institution, they are taking it on and changing the rules of the game– or creating entirely new playbooks.”
In the past, youth was a handicap to professional success. Getting older meant more resources, more knowledge, more money. No more. Those who grew up in the tech age have way bigger ambitions—perfectly suited to the dynamic, entrepreneurial and impatient digital world they grew up in. If you want to change the world, being under 30 is now an advantage.”
I want to change the world and be one of America’s brightest stars, too.
How can I do that?
How am I going to get there?
I’ve got approximately four years left to make the cut…
The wheels start turning. I begin to get a bit anxious. I look at my own life and feel suddenly inadequate. I need to do more, work harder, make moves!
These movers and shakers have made their names known. I want to make my name known.
Maggie Niemiec.
Published author. Blogger. Expert Marketer. Social Media Strategist. Influencer.
I want to see my name in lights—on bookstore shelves and computer screens and Instagram follow lists.
And then it hit me: I wasn’t made to make my name known.
No.
I was made to make His name known.
Jesus.
The son of God who was 30 years old when he started his ministry. He was about 33 years old when he died for our sins, saving all of humanity from death if they simply believe.
Jesus wouldn’t have made the 30-Under-30 list.
He also wouldn’t have wanted to. He lived a life of obedience in order to exalt His Father and bring glory to the kingdom.
“Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
I let that truth wash over me. I’m ambitious and driven. I like to set goals and achieve them. I bet if you're reading this right now, you can probably relate. As Millennials, we may be a part of the selfie generation, known for self-absorption and binge-watching. But we’re also a generation who's witnessed 9/11 and an economic recession firsthand—we’re deeply optimistic and we work hard, believing we can achieve whatever we conceive. These qualities are not inherently bad. We should work hard and work well. We should have dreams.
Except for me, my heart bends much too quickly toward the ever-elusive “success” and away from Christ. I give a lot of weight (like, a lot) to my perceived recognition in the world. I didn’t see the extent of my ambition and approval-longing until recently. That Forbes list stirred something deep within me and reminded me, Oh wow this is where my struggles with body image and perfectionism are actually rooted. In being known and successful and admired.
But these things that I desire are never going to fully satisfy. There will always be another rung of the ladder to climb, another accolade to achieve, another way to improve. The definition of success will continue to evolve—I know because it already has.
What if I started to make his name known instead?
To acknowledge the names of these 30-Under-30ers, acknowledge my own name and my own goals, and know that ultimately the name Jesus is above them all.
I want to start viewing my life and viewing my dreams in light of what really matters. I’m getting there. I’ve come a long way since college and first moving to New York City. I’ll have to keep admitting to you, dear readers, that my natural inclination is toward my own success and fame. I still want to make an impact with my words. I want to write a best-selling book, give a TED Talk, and speak to young women about my life and my faith. If I’m honest, I still want those things badly. Except they’re not my everything anymore.
I’m learning to release the white-knuckle grip I’ve had on my plans and goals. I’m trying to live in a way that makes Him known. To cultivate humility, meekness, patience, obedience. These aren’t usually the qualities you read in a 30-Under-30 listing. But I think they’re the qualities that lead to something so much better than what the world tells us is worth living for.
In the words of Frances Chan, I don’t want to “stand before a holy God and rob Him of the glory that was rightfully His.”
I’d like to take a step back from my own striving and goal-checking-off. I’d like to practice surrendering a bit more. I’m going to pray for a humble heart and the ability to remember, at the end of the day, it’s not about me at all. Life just isn’t about my success or whether my name sits on a bookshelf. I’m so glad I have sweet friends who remind me of this on a daily basis.
So I hope this blog—whether it has 1 view or 1 million views—is a light for you. But more than that, I hope when you read my posts, you walk away thinking of Him, not of me.
Half-Birthdays Make You Think
This week marks my half-birthday. In six months, I'll be 26. I've always loved celebrating birthdays, and I've never had a problem with growing older. But this year I'm feeling a little more anxiety around it.
Twenty-six means I've crossed into my late twenties. Twenty-six means saying goodbye to being a post-grad and hello to being a full-on adult. Twenty-six means I'm old enough to get married and have kids. It means I only sometimes have to buy Ikea furniture and two-buck Chuck. It means I'm investing in a retirement account, while still dealing with the occasional acne. Perhaps most importantly, 26 means I definitely cannot get away with belting out Taylor Swift's "22" anymore.
When did that happen?
Ferris Bueller was right—life moves pretty fast. I think that’s especially so when you live in a high-energy city. But even if you don't, we Millennials thrive on a fast-paced lifestyle. There’s always something to do, some new goal to strive for, a new rung of the ladder to climb.
People ask me all the time how long I see myself living in New York City, what's next for me career-wise, when am I going to meet a man and settle down, etc. etc. etc. I don't have answers to these questions. And if I'm being honest, when I hear such questions I start to think about my age and my lack of answers and get a little scared. I begin to believe the lie that I need to have a fully detailed life plan. That I need to plot out exactly what I want, when I want it, and then I need to go after it. I need to just do it.
So I had to laugh when I re-read a Verily article of mine from January of this year. I wrote about embracing the new year—by doing exactly the opposite of what I now feel like I need to do. Case in point:
"I am excited to embrace the adventure in 2015—not by creating some five-year plan, but by instead enjoying the journey and trusting life will happen exactly as it should."
Oh. Hmm.
Not only did I write that, but I also wrote that if I were to make any new year's resolution, it would be to start a fresh relationship with myself. To take care of myself mind, body, and soul. To allow the adventure of the year ahead to unfold and to accept the mess that comes along with that.
My words from January ring true now more than ever. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t quite know what’s next. I’ve been striving for as long as I can remember. I’m always working toward a new goal or achievement. As a kid, I did everything I could to get straight As on my report card. I practiced every day to make the tennis team and then to win matches and tournaments. I maintained my GPA and tests scores to get into my first-choice college. I studied my butt off to graduate with a double major. I did the internships, the extracurriculars, the part-time jobs. And for a while, I also worked hard on my eating disorder. If you’ve already been following my blog, you know the story: I controlled my eating in an attempt to control my life and to truly “have it all.” Another goal added to the ever-growing list, another part of myself lost.
The cycle played itself out again when I relocated to New York City. I relapsed in my recovery and had to seek help for my eating disorder. Thankfully the Lord has provided health, healing, and a whole lot of refinement since then, and I praise Him for that.
Yet the striving continued to play itself out in other areas, especially work. I came to the city for work, and I landed my dream job. But it was a temp situation, so I constantly felt like I had to work harder to be brought on in a more permanent capacity. Eventually the promotion came. Later, a new gig with a bigger title, bigger responsibilities, and bigger dreams.
And let’s not forget relationships. Subconsciously I think I wanted to strive there, too. After moving to NYC, I entered into my first serious relationship. Almost two years later it ended, and not long after that I embarked on another.
Even church was a place to strive. I committed to friendships, community group, a women’s group, Bible studies, volunteer work.
Check, check, check.
You see, working toward a goal is easy for me. Setting my mind to something and going after it has never been a problem. I can look at my past and see God's hand in it. I really try to enjoy the present, and I trust in the future kingdom of heaven. It's that nearer future here on earth that is decidedly more difficult for more to embrace. Twenty-six, 27, 28, 29, and (gasp) 30—ten years ago, I thought those ages seemed so, well, old. Now I'm right there. And don't even get me started on all those lists about the 30 things every woman needs to do before age 30.
Today, at 25.5 years old, I am a single woman working in a steady job, with good friendships and a church community. I have absolutely have no idea when I will meet the right man and get married, or what my next career move will be, or how long I’ll live in New York City. It’s scary to admit that.
But what if I could be fully satisfied in those unknowns? What if I could, as I wrote, enjoy the journey and trust what happens along the way?
Life would probably be a lot more peaceful, and age would truly be nothing but a number.
The Lord gives us free will. We have the ability to make decisions every single day. We make plans and resolutions and goals. We choose how to live our lives, and we have to take an active role in them. At the same time, God knows the plans that He has for us, plans to give us hope and a future. Ultimately, He is the one who directs our steps.
“Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”
I'm so grateful that I can make mistakes, and I can have no idea what is next for me—but I can still trust in the Lord in all of that. I can stand in His will and His goodness.
For the next six months, my goals aren’t to get promoted, to become a greater presence at church, or to land a boyfriend. My goal isn’t even to drive more traffic to this website. My goal instead is to surrender. Surrender my mind, my body, my soul to the one who has knit me since before I was born.
Twenty-six, get at me.