Learning is Painful

Productivity is such a strange thing—mainly because I can't always remember what I did. In part, I think my memory may be a little wonky. For the most part, however, I think I just move on when I complete a task.

Often, I'll be asked, "So what did you do today?" I'll know I did things. There are slots throughout my day that I know were full, but I can't remember all the bits and pieces. And then I feel embarrassed because I make my own schedule, and, if I can't remember exactly what I did, I probably didn't do enough, and then I'm wasting my time, and my business is failing! It's not even remotely that bad, but I like to panic. It seems that a lot of people like to panic. I don't know why we're so fond of it. There are solutions galore if you slow down and look for them.

One big thing I've noticed that foils our peace is forgetfulness. I often remember the wandering Israelites and how much energy God and they put into reciting God's work. I remember how often and quickly they forgot. It's easy to say, "silly Israelites" when I'm reading about them in the comfort of my English-translated copy of the Bible. Then, I remember how frequently and thoroughly I forget about God's consistent, persistent, pervasive goodness. It's crazy stuff. That is one of the many reasons I try to journal frequently: I like being able to look back and see God's hand forming my brokenness into beautiful earthenware.

I rarely see it when He's reforming my broken pieces because it hurts, and—with my little brain—it's hard to focus on anything but the pain, the stretching. I am getting into a better habit of recalling the worth of the pains while being reformed.

This isn't a perfect analogy, but it reminds me of the movie Lucy:

Lucy: Learning is always a painful process. Like when you’re little and your bones are growing and you ache all over. Do you believe I can remember the sound of my own bones growing? Like this grinding under the skin. Everything is different now, like sounds are music that I can understand. Like fluids.
[Jang shakes with pain from the knives in hands as he watches and listens to Lucy]
Lucy: It’s funny, I used to be so concerned with who I was and what I wanted to be and, now that I have access to the furthest reaches of my brain, I see things clearly and realize that what makes us, it’s primitive. They’re all obstacles. Does that make any sense? Like this pain you’re experiencing, it’s blocking you from understanding. All you know now is pain, that’s all you know, pain.

It was a violent scene because she was getting revenge on the people that had kidnapped her, but there's something vivid about her words: "Like this pain you’re experiencing, it’s blocking you from understanding."

Experiencing this lesson itself has been a painful process, but I am learning how to recoil from pain less, how to embrace growth more.