The Strength of Life’s Commitments
Written by Emma McCoy
3 minute read
There are a lot of ways to make a life full and busy. People fill their days with work, children, hobbies, volunteering, traveling, exercise, shopping, and appointments. There are always new books to read, movies to see, events to attend, places to visit. Life is bursting with all kinds of things to do, so the trick is figuring out what it is, exactly, that we should do each day.
Back in the day, I liked to fill my days with work. I don’t do this quite as much anymore, but for the past eight years or so, I’d overextend myself nearly every year with activities and work to keep me busy. In high school, that looked like committing to choir, drama, varsity softball, driver’s ed, kayaking, and working at Old Navy. Oh, and four AP classes. In college, it looked like editing the school newspaper, editing the school literary journal, and being a TA for two professors. Oh, and tutoring in the Writing Center. In grad school it looked like teaching two classes, writing a novel, completing high-level research, and doing physical therapy. I’m a high-energy person with a lot of capacity, which means I often commit to a lot of jobs and projects at the same time.
There’s not necessarily a problem with work; it’s good for a person to work! But I have had trouble balancing my life with other kinds of commitments that are deeply important: friendships, rest, and church.
In undergrad, I stopped going to church regularly. I hadn’t yet figured out why, as an adult, I’d go to church, much less be a part of a small group. Those were two commitments I was very, very wary about making. I thought by not committing to a church, I had more time. Time for homework, sleeping in, more work. I thought I was avoiding something not entirely necessary. However, by deprioritizing important life commitments in favor of overworking, I was only hurting myself.
It’s not as simple as “I went to church and that fixed me!” even though that would be cleaner. But leaning into one church and committing to a small group did make my life better in what feels like every way. Setting aside my work purposefully, even when it hurt, helped me realize I was missing community, people to rely on, worship with others, and constant reminders of God’s goodness. James K.A. Smith says that being God’s child is the “rebar of identity,” and I’d been forgetful of that rebar. By committing to a church and church life, I could feel the rebar again.
What really mattered about committing to church again wasn’t just in “doing the right thing.” I didn’t feel like a better person because I went to church. I went to church and became friends with people who helped me become more myself. I started going to small group weekly—and I’ll tell you it took about a year of consistently going to small group and church before I started looking forward to it. It’s like anything worth doing: learning a language, cooking, going to the gym, parenting, drawing, public speaking, gardening. It took practice, and building a habit, for me to see the joy of close Christian community.
When I left San Diego and moved back home, it was really hard to leave this church community. It was the hardest part about moving! I’d put some roots down and committed to those people. Leaving was hard.
But it also told me that those relationships were worth having.
Now, living at home in Bellingham, I know I’m a different person. It’s easier for me to make commitments, prioritize relationships, listen to God, and not overwork myself. It’s the sort of change that makes me stop and wonder how was I living before? Then, I hadn’t been asking myself who joins in the celebrations of my life.
So, who joins in the celebrations of your life? How do your commitments and relationships support and sustain you? Because for me, the church, and the people in it, have both supported and sustained me when I committed to it.
My life turned around when I committed to the people around me. My life turned around when I returned to church. My life turned around when I opened myself to be loved, and love in return.
It wasn’t an easy, overnight process. I had to show up, week after week, even when I was tired and afraid. I risked rejection, ambivalence, and feeling invisible. I also risked self-sabotage, and fought myself constantly to show up to a friend’s doorstep every Wednesday. This is the hard work love requires.
There’s a part of me (and most of us, probably) that has a hard time loving completely. I brace myself for pain, for loss, for rejection. It’s been a part of my life for a while, and it’s a normal human thing. And yet, after two years of commitment, showing up, and being shown love, I loved that church. People will still disappoint me, yes, but I know that committed love is possible, and I should try to want it and build it.
Come visit us this Sunday for a membership class, where we talk about commitments, and how giving ourselves responsibilities and restrictions can actually lead to greater freedom.
Follow us on Instagram @springchurchbellingham and here on the blog for new stories every week!
Who in your life would you like to share this with?
About the author
Spring Church member, Emma McCoy (M.A.), has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Across the Margin, Stirring Literary, and Thimble Mag. She reads for Chestnut Review and Whale Road Review. She’s probably working on her novel right now. Catch her on Substack: https://poetrybyemma.substack.com/