Writings of a Beholder 🌿 2.17.23

Pouring new wine into new wineskins

Feb 17

Pouring New Wine Into New Wineskins

Lately, I’ve been having trouble writing and forming words of my own.

I’m a writer and someone who processes her world best in written form. Words are often my ally — the way I encourage others best and offer safe space for souls to breathe — whether they’re typed on a blank page to be published in a blog post, scribbled messily into a journal, or spoken aloud.

But in this season of my life, I’ve struggled to find them. To form them and shape them and offer them. It’s just felt a lot harder than it usually does and it’s left me tired and discouraged each time I try to sit down and do the thing that I love to do so much.

The thing that I’ve always been able to do.

It startled me at first, this wordless feeling. I don’t much care for it and it makes me feel a little trapped inside my mind. I tried to force them — the words. I tried to convince myself that I can do this, that I should be able to do this.

Why can’t I do this?

Amidst the confusion and the wrestling, I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps this wordless season is an invitation to pay attention to what’s lingering beneath the surface of my soul and my life.

To lean in and listen for the Lord’s invitation to me right in the middle of all that feels messy and unclear.

This season of my life has come with a lot of changes — a whole lot of new and different. I’ve begun healing from some pretty old and pretty big wounds and because of that healing, I’ve started to open myself up again. I’m discovering new things about myself that I had forgotten like how much I love to travel, go to brunch with girlfriends, be spontaneous and fun, and social.

I had forgotten how much I long to be known by others and to know them. How I desire authentic, like-minded community.

Trauma has a way of disembodying you, and I have been living disconnected from my truest self for nearly a decade and I’m just starting to come to Home to her again.

Light is slowly yet fervently dawning on my dark and hurting places, reconnecting my heart to my mind and my body, gently bringing me back to life.

I’m learning how to live again outside of fear and woundedness. And that requires energy, time, and actually living and leaning into things and people outside of myself. It feels refreshing, exciting, and breathtaking.

But it also leaves me feeling tired and wordless, and I’m learning how to let myself be ok with that.

I think sometimes we put a lot of pressure on ourselves to do the thing we’ve always done because we’ve always been able to do it. I’m a writer, I should be able to put together an encouraging blog post about all the words and soul lessons swirling around in my mind. I should be able to string poetry together in an Instagram caption and offer it as encouragement because that’s what I’ve always done!

But some seasons of life require that we pivot and adopt new rhythms and practices and ways of doing things that fit appropriately with where our feet actually are.

So, because I’m having trouble finding my own words, I’m learning to adopt the practice of borrowing them. I’m leaning into the heart cries and rejoicings of others in the form of prayers, blessings, and collects as I let myself slowly come alive again. I’m choosing to honor my body, heart, and mind by resting in what I need rather than forcing myself into a box that doesn’t fit right now.

As I was sharing all of this with my mom this week, she reminded me of Jesus’ words to His disciples in Luke 5:37-38,

“And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the new wine will burst the skins; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins.” (NIV)

Maybe the invitation in seasons that feel a bit muddy and weary is to resist the urge to pour new wine into old wineskins; to try and force what we’ve always done into a life that has changed and evolved and now requires something different — something new.

Maybe it’s time to adopt new rhythms that support the season of life we’re actually in rather than trying to fit old rhythms into new seasons.

Here’s what I know to be true, friend:

new and different are hard but necessary parts of life.
reaching for something else because you aren’t able to do what you’ve always done doesn’t make you weak — it makes you wise.
our bodies and hearts carry a lot more than we know and deserve to be treated with the same compassion that Christ gives to us every day, no matter what.

You are a human person with a whole, great big life that contains many different moving — or perhaps a few unmoving — parts, and it’s ok to admit that. It’s ok to admit that what you’ve always done isn’t working right now.

I’d invite you to be where your feet are friend, not where you wish them to be. God meets you here, in the ache and joy and hurt of this present moment, inviting you always to turn toward Him and to what you are needing most in this season of your life.

As I’ve been fumbling to find my words again, I’ve found myself drawn repeatedly to Psalm 23. I pray the words of this Psalm often when I walk in the early mornings, basking in the glow of a sleepy sunrise. I pray them when I cook, meditate on them at my desk answering work emails, and when I lay in bed at night.

Instead of striving to force and produce my own, I’m resting in the words of those who have come before me — of those who have lived life and been where my feet are now and can offer me the hope and encouragement I need for this season.

I’m choosing to pivot toward a practice that’s grounding me rather than exhausting me. I’m choosing to pour new wine into new wineskins.

If you’ve been feeling stuck and motionless, aggravated and exhausted, try naming the season of life you’re in, listening for God’s invitation in your current season, and then adopting new rhythms and practices that ground and support you rather than exhaust you.

And in everything, remember to turn toward God — the Lover and Creator of your soul who longs to tend to your every need and longing.

The One Who is your very real, near, and Good Shepherd.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.” (Psalm 23, NIV)

Peace be with you,

Celia

A Breath Prayer for Your Weekend

breathe in:

You guide me, Lord.

breath out:

Along the right paths.

*if you’d like to learn more about the practice of breath prayer, check out this blog post I wrote titled, How to Use Breath Prayer.

Join the Sacred Spaces Community

Are you feeling tired, worn out, or burnt out on religion?

Are you longing for a deeper connection with God but don’t know where to begin?

Join the Sacred Spaces community for just $5 a month as we learn to behold God in the sacred spaces of our everyday lives through the exploration of Christian contemplative practices such as breath prayer, Lectio Divina, The Daily Examen, and more.

Click here to join or read more about it: Sacred Spaces with Celia

Enter the Grace In Real Life Podcast Giveaway!

A few years ago, I had the honor of being a guest on the Grace In Real Life podcast, hosted by the lovely @jillemccormick 💛

The podcast is turning three years old this year, so I and a few other past guests have teamed up to provide you with a celebratory giveaway!

The giveaway starts February 14th, and ends February 28th ✨ and entering is super easy! Just click this link here: Enter the Giveaway!

One winner will receive all of these amazing goodies 👇🏻✨

🤍 books, ebooks, & printables

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Resources & Fun Things to Pick Up

Last week on the blog, I shared a short word on winter seasons and the invitation they usually offer to us. Check it out here: A Short Word on Winter Seasons

This week, I had the honor of being featured on the Home & Heart Podcast with the lovely Rebekah Hargraves! We talked about all things contemplative practices and debunked the myth that they ‘New Age’. Listen here: Navigating Contemplative Spiritual Practices

Author and trauma therapist, KJ Ramsey, released a new book titled The Book of Common Courage which contains poems, collects, prayers, and blessings when you need to find strength in small moments. I’ve been borrowing a lot of her words and prayers in this season! The entire book is based on Psalm 23. Grab it on Amazon here: The Book of Common Courage

My friend and fellow writer, Kari Bartkus, is offering an 8-week journaling course called Journal Gently designed to help you experience God’s presence in the midst of grief. I went through the 8-week writing program myself, and it was incredibly healing and life-giving. Check it out here: Journal Gently

Grab some breath prayer cards, a journal, and other contemplative resources from my Etsy shop: The Beholding Co.

Grab a copy of my Bible study, You Are Beloved: a 21-day study on how to root your identity in the love of God, over on Amazon.

An Invitation to Pause & Reflect

A regular practice of reflection helps us recognize what’s going on beneath the surface of our souls so we can name it in the Lord’s presence. Because as we learn to name what we feel, what we need, and what we long for, we’re also learning to discern the Spirit’s sweet, gentle voice within our hearts and lives.

Take a few moments today or this weekend to journal or contemplate with the Holy Spirit the following question(s) or prompt(s):

Take a few moments and reflect on the season of life you’re in. What practices might be helpful in grounding you rather than exhausting you?

I’d invite you to prayerfully read through Psalm 23 a few times and notice what rises up within you. What words or phrases stick out the most? Offer them up to God, listen for His invitation, and then rest in His faithful love for you.

xo,

celia