Jesus Calling July 23 23

Okay, so let's chat about July 23rd. You know, the one that keeps popping up on our calendars, reminding us that we're officially halfway through the second half of the year. It's a date that doesn't have a major holiday attached. No giant turkey, no fireworks, no exchanging of slightly-too-tight sweaters.

It's just… July 23rd. And in the grand scheme of things, it feels a little like that middle child. Overlooked. Not quite as exciting as the younger, more energetic birthdays, or the elder, wiser anniversaries. But hey, even middle children deserve a little spotlight, right?

This year, July 23rd landed on a Sunday. A Sunday. Which, for many of us, means either a glorious day of rest or a frantic scramble to get everything done before the Monday dread sets in. It’s a day where pajamas might extend their lifespan well past noon. And coffee becomes a vital life support system.

Now, I've been doing some… light research. And it turns out there's a certain devotional book that has a daily reading for this very date. You might have heard of it. It's called Jesus Calling. And the entry for July 23rd has some thoughts that are, shall we say, interesting.

The gist of it, from what I can gather without getting too deep into theological treatises (because, let's be honest, it's July 23rd, we’re not in the mood for homework), is about trust. Big, bold, capital-T trust. Specifically, trusting in Jesus, even when things are a bit… fuzzy.

And here’s where my slightly unpopular opinion comes in. While the sentiment is lovely, and who doesn't want to trust in something bigger than ourselves, sometimes I read these things and I think, "Easy for you to say, Jesus Calling."

Because, you know, life happens. Sometimes trust feels less like a gentle river and more like a runaway train. Especially on a Sunday. A Sunday where you also have that mountain of laundry threatening to stage a hostile takeover of your living room.

The reading talks about not worrying. About letting go of anxieties. And I'm sitting here, with my lukewarm coffee, contemplating the sheer audacity of that instruction. Letting go of anxieties? My anxieties are practically my best friends. They've been with me through thick and thin. They know my deepest secrets.

They remind me to double-check that I locked the car. They whisper doubts about whether I really said the right thing in that conversation from three weeks ago. They’re the ultimate over-thinkers' support group.

And the devotional suggests we hand these worries over to Jesus. And I try. Oh, how I try. I imagine a little heavenly hand reaching down and plucking my worries away, like dandelion seeds. But then I realize I forgot to buy more milk. And the worry about the milk situation instantly reasserts its dominance.

It's like playing whack-a-mole with my mental to-do list. I banish one worry, and two more pop up in its place. It’s an exhausting sport, and I’m pretty sure I’m not winning any medals.

The Jesus Calling entry for July 23rd also mentions peace. A deep, abiding peace. The kind that floats above the chaos. And I’m over here, trying to find peace in the fact that I might have enough clean socks for the week. It’s a different scale of peace, I suppose.

Look, I'm not trying to be a cynic. I genuinely appreciate the messages of hope and faith. But sometimes, the perfection of the advice feels a little… aspirational. Like telling someone who’s drowning to just "swim better."

We're human. We're messy. We have off days. And July 23rd, on a Sunday, can feel like a particularly off-day-friendly date. It's a day that demands a lot, even without the added pressure of achieving perfect tranquility.

Maybe the "unpopular opinion" here is that it's okay not to be radiating saintly calm all the time. It's okay to acknowledge that sometimes, trusting feels like a Herculean effort. And that the pursuit of peace can sometimes feel like chasing a butterfly in a hurricane.

Perhaps the real message of July 23rd, from a practical standpoint, is to just get through it. To do your best. To accept the imperfections. And to maybe, just maybe, order pizza if the laundry situation is truly dire. Because sometimes, that’s the most profound act of self-care.

So, while I respect the intention behind the Jesus Calling reading for July 23rd, I'm going to offer my own, slightly more down-to-earth interpretation. Trust in the fact that you're doing okay. Trust that a little bit of chaos is normal. And trust that there will be another Sunday, another July 23rd, where maybe, just maybe, you'll feel a tiny bit closer to that deep, abiding peace.

Until then, I'll be over here, wrestling with my anxieties and hoping the milk doesn't expire before I remember to buy it. And that, my friends, is a perfectly valid way to navigate July 23rd.

So next time you see that date on the calendar, especially if it's a Sunday, give yourself a little grace. You’re not expected to be a spiritual superhero. You’re just expected to be you. And that's more than enough.

And if you’re reading this and thinking, “Wow, she really gets it,” then congratulations. You’ve found your people. We’re the ones who understand that sometimes, the biggest act of faith is just showing up for yourself. Even when your worries are having a convention.

The Jesus Calling authors likely didn’t anticipate the sheer volume of mental acrobatics that occur on a typical Sunday in July. But that’s the beauty of interpretation, isn’t it? We take these words and mold them to fit our lived experiences. We find our own truth within the broader message.

So, let’s all give a little nod to July 23rd. It’s a day that, for all its lack of fanfare, can be a quiet reminder of our ongoing journey. A journey filled with stumbles, triumphs, and an endless supply of lukewarm coffee.

And maybe, just maybe, the true message is in the shared experience. The knowing smile between two people who understand the struggle of letting go of anxieties. The silent camaraderie of imperfect faith.

Perhaps the greatest act of trust is simply to keep going, even when the path is unclear. And to remember that you are not alone in your journey.

So, to all my fellow July 23rd warriors out there, keep on keeping on. Your efforts, however imperfect, are seen. And appreciated. Especially the efforts involving laundry. Those are the real heroes.

This has been a playful exploration of a date and a devotional. No offense intended to anyone who finds profound peace on this particular day. We all have our own ways of connecting. And mine, on this July 23rd, involves a healthy dose of humor and a realistic outlook.

And if you're still feeling overwhelmed, remember this: there's always the next day. And the day after that. And eventually, we'll be talking about August. And that, my friends, is a cause for mild celebration.

So, take a deep breath. You’ve made it through another July 23rd. And that, in itself, is something to be proud of. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear the siren song of a freshly baked cookie calling my name. That's a form of trust I can definitely get behind.