From Checklists to Jesus

This weekend, my friend, Debbie and I will run a workshop called Redeeming Your Story as part of our Because You Matter Workshops. It’s a stand-alone workshop—one of three designed to coach women in how to make sense of their lives and share the redemptive threads of their stories with the people they love most.

As I prepared for the weekend, I kept circling a question:

What goals elude us, no matter how hard we work or how long we keep trying? How do we break out and into victory?

I’m not proud to 'fess up to it, but it took two attempts over three long years before I finally received my ATCL diploma in piano performance from Trinity College, London.

In desperation, I reached out to the teacher best known in my previous city for getting people through diploma exams, begging for help. I could read music, had a great ear, prioritized my time, and could play the pieces—but not to the standard the examination required.

“Your hands are too small,” she told me. “You will need to develop great technique, but don’t worry—I'll help you.”

Thus began a new system of piano practice under a new coach—and scales—endless scales of every kind imaginable, played in every way possible. Lynn insisted that learning the scales properly mattered more than the pieces themselves. “If you can play these scales correctly, you can play anything.”

It didn't stop there.

I had to practice for hours every day on a grand piano. An upright wouldn't do. I had to give up distractions—my guitar sat lonely for over a year at her insistence.

After months of four-hour practices (and unexpected help for my overworked hands), something shifted. My technique improved. My hands grew strong. Passages that once felt impossible became manageable. I committed to memory all 35 minutes of my piano recital, and I was finally ready to perform, hoping to achieve that much-coveted diploma. Happily, I did!

Looking back, I realize something:

Without the right coach, the right system for practice, the right instrument, and the willingness to submit to the process, I could have continued taking exams and checking boxes, but still never realized my dream of a piano diploma.

My spiritual life has faced similar challenges. For years, I approached spiritual growth through checklists. Had I read my Bible enough? Prayed long enough? Hard enough? For enough people? Should I fast more? Serve more? Praise more?

But where did that leave me? Exhausted, introspective, and feeling like a failure.

My goals of becoming more loving, more courageous, and more Christ-like remained just as elusive as my diploma had been. I kept falling down in the places I desperately needed to succeed in—relationships, the fear of God and not man, and the trust that God would really show up for me when I needed Him. Friends were quick to offer advice or lend me books, but they did not have the foresight or expertise to run me through the correct plays for my life.

Change began when I learned simply to be with Jesus—trusting Him and following His lead. He taught me a simple morning ritual designed just for me, starting with: "Thank you for loving me!"

He also encouraged me to listen for his daily affirmation of my identity and asked me to open my eyes to observe his presence throughout my day. I learned to bring my pain, triggers, and negative memories to Him rather than attempting to bury or fix them myself.

Jesus met me in places where effort never could. I stopped working so hard to save myself, defend myself, forgive on command, or force grace into places where I had none. Bitterness, regret, fear, anger, hopeless despair—even pain—gradually started disappearing, and joy took the front seat.

Jesus is very good at being the Savior. Much better than I ever was.

Recently, during a season of deep grief and personal hardship, I unexpectedly found myself face to face with people who had hurt me deeply. To my surprise, I met them without bitterness, fear, or regret. I don’t know exactly when the hurt left—but any negative residue was completely gone.

Meanwhile, Bible reading and prayer continue to make their appearance—but not to earn something, prove something, or check a religious box. They've become exercises of joy instead.

This week, I sense Him whisper:

What are those religious to-dos you’re still holding on to—checklists that rob you of joy yet look so holy on the outside? Can you press delete and instead come fully into my grace? In that system, I can heal, redeem, and give you victories your striving never could.

My response? Yes, Coach Jesus! ~ happy sigh ~ Call the plays!

Leave me a comment! Till Friday at five...