When I was in high school (and admittedly college too), I used to have the most terrible time trying to keep my papers and essays within the allotted page range. While my classmates would lament over trying to somehow write a paper that consisted of FIVE WHOLE PAGES, I would silently wonder how I was supposed to keep mine to ONLY FIVE PAGES.
I had a little trick I used for remedying my wordiness: I would expand my margins, just a smidge. Oh I didn't go crazy, nothing the teacher's eye would consciously notice; just enough so I could say a little bit more, cram a few more words onto the page.
Unfortunately, my inability to be concise, my tendency to encroach into the margins? It hasn't stopped since then.
So I expand a little bit. I let boundaries and margins loosen, because then I can just do a few more things. Meet up with a few more friends. Minister to a few more kiddos. Read a few more blogs, take a few more pictures . . . And before I know it, my life looks like a page where the writing extends right out to the edges.
Which is all well-and-good. I mean, it's not like I'm filling my time and life with anything that's not "good." But margin makes things easier to read. Much like a page in a book, our lives are read more easily with room for the eye to breath.
I had a little trick I used for remedying my wordiness: I would expand my margins, just a smidge. Oh I didn't go crazy, nothing the teacher's eye would consciously notice; just enough so I could say a little bit more, cram a few more words onto the page.
Unfortunately, my inability to be concise, my tendency to encroach into the margins? It hasn't stopped since then.
So I expand a little bit. I let boundaries and margins loosen, because then I can just do a few more things. Meet up with a few more friends. Minister to a few more kiddos. Read a few more blogs, take a few more pictures . . . And before I know it, my life looks like a page where the writing extends right out to the edges.
Because here's the thing about margin: it forces us to make choices. If I had written my papers without expanding my margins, I would have had to edit my words. To go back and read and re-read and figure out what wasn't essential for conveying my point. How could I say the same thing with fewer words? And in actuality, by cutting out what didn't strengthen my argument, by removing unnecessary adjectives or repetitive points, I would have written a much stronger and more compelling essay.
And aren't we all writing a story with our lives? Shouldn't I edit my story to convey my most essential argument? Does buying new fall boots or spending hours on Pinterest write the story I am trying to pen with my life? Or does it weaken my argument by cluttering my story unnecessarily, distracting people from the things I want my life and story to say?
Because I want my story to speak of something bigger. To cry for justice, to love orphans, to speak of the extravagant love and grace of my Savior. And I need to figure out which pieces of my life strengthen that story, and which detract from it by rambling on incessantly. Because those margins are there for a reason. White space, room to breathe . . . that is where I stop and God begins. Where people look at the gap between my story and HIS story and see an Author who is moving powerfully to love and care for the marginalized. In the space, they will see a Jesus who loves dearly and who covers me with His mercy and gentleness daily.
So what can I cut out? How can I edit my life to speak more powerfully and write more compellingly?
How can we say more with less?