Turnstiles create entry or exit points; a space to say YES as we enter a new place. They allow or prevent flow around an area. Whether in airports, mass transit stations, amusement parks, museums, or arenas, they direct and control the way crowds move.  

 

August and September act as turnstiles, times for exit points and entry avenues into a new season, a new option as we go forward. 

 

Summer’s shimmering delights give way to autumn’s awesome beauties. What’s captured my delight in the playful simplicity of June, July, and August now yields to bountiful fall season pleasures, available for exploration. Rhythms try on a new pattern surrounding a new focus. Weather shifts from hot heat to crisp cool. Change glistens in the air around turnstiles. 

 

I imagine Jesus’ outstretched hand as I stand on one side of the turnstile gate, poised to exit summer and enter autumn. The playful glint in His eyes stirs my curiosity. What’s He up to? What does He want to unveil? What waits on the other side beyond the turnstile? 

 

Jesus’s Thoughts on Our YES

Sacred Imagination plays a significant part in my life with Christ. In prayer, Jesus offers impressions, images, memories, even dreams. Those cause me to ponder, to wonder, to notice, to pay attention. There’s something rippling up, stirring. A hint of excitement. A wrestling. A resistance. A question. A hope. In Kingdom living, as transitions of movement occur, it’s wise to listen in. I consider whether or not my choices echo Moses’ words to the Lord: “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here.” (Exodus 33:15) 

 

It’s easy for us to start the autumn off with our own vision, our own goals, our own hopes and dreams as center stage. A fresh hint of a new season acts as a catalyst for delving into new options, new commitments. Yet wisdom from Moses reminds us to step into the stream that God offers, not the one that we alone try to create as we gear up for a new way of going forward. 

 

Transitions bring transformation, if I’m pliable, if I’m Trinity-Presence-oriented. Yet it’s so easy to get going before we think, before we pause long enough to ask, “Jesus, what emanates from Your heart for my heart during this time of change?” 

 

All around us the world hurries us forward. Back-to-school specials reside next to autumn sports gear. Accoutrements of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas appear before we round the corner of next week. 

 

As a new season pours forth, it’s easy to say Yes to all the sparkling shiny things. Try this new hobby as the days grow shorter. Sign up for that volunteer need at school, church, or in the community. Excitement surges in times of change. The gush of the glittery goodness finds us overloaded faster than we can change the calendar pages. 

 

An Opportunity for YES

Recently, a good opportunity came my way. Recommended by someone I value for something that would have opened new doors in my book coaching and editorial work world, I noticed my own interior momentum building. You know how it goes. If I say yes to this, then I might be able to expand it by giving a positive nod to that, and before you know it, one yes becomes an avalanche of good intentions, running rampant. Spaciousness suddenly careens off the cliff into cluttered chaos. 

 

Growing up, I loved visiting relatives. My mother hailed from a rather large vivacious family. My father’s family, though not so large, brought its own vivaciousness to gatherings. They knew how to throw a fabulously large feast, one for every occasion or for no occasion at all. The table, laden with not one or two kinds of jelly and jam but four or five more homemade delicacies, creaked and groaned under the weight of deliciousness. Choices for appetizers, salads, sides, and meats paled in comparison to the dessert table. If you’ve ever been to one of these types of gatherings, you know what I encountered. Inevitably the youngest ones at the table piled their plates the highest. Older relatives grinned and gushed: “Young ‘uns: their eyes bigger than their stomach.” 

 

Same thing happens as new opportunities arise, as new seasons arrive. As the school year begin, as new endeavors roll forward, our plates get stacked higher and higher, our eyes bigger than our stomach in a time of feasting on changes. Yes to this. Yes to that. Yes. Yes. Yes. 

 

Leaning Into the YES

When I don’t ask Jesus, when I don’t listen in, when I don’t pause to ponder with God if He is inviting me in and is present in my first choice, and that next one, and the one after that, I become overloaded. 

 

When I’m overloaded, it’s because I’ve under-leaned.  

 

In other words, when I don’t lean into God’s presence, I just jump into whatever comes along and do it my way. I expect approval for my good intentions. Yes, I am so sure of great possibilities just ahead on the horizon.  

 

Yes so often sounds like a good decision, doesn’t it? 

 

Sometimes, though, it’s wise to walk your Yes back home, saving it for another day. 

 

My stomach almost got bigger than my eyes. As I walked through the turnstile of a generous invitation, a new choice with potential benefits for my work life, for the writers I come alongside, I grabbed Yes before I examined it. As the seasons changed, as rhythms and possibilities twinkled on the horizon, I almost did not pause long enough to hear Jesus’ thought, to pay attention to what God’s Presence invited. 

 

The momentum started. Yet as I noticed an interior stagger concerning the weightiness of how one choice would lead to another choice and then another, I stilled myself at the turnstile.  

 

I reached for Jesus’ outstretched hand. I settled down in silence. I pondered in prayer. I took time to pragmatically evaluate my calendar and what was driving my yes, what was happening in my heart.  

 

The old me, Type A, highly-driven to perform perfectly to meet expectations from childhood mottoes, myths, and lies, knew the adrenaline charge behind overcommitting. The new me, steeped more and more in stillness, in solitude, in silence, contemplated how one Yes could become too many Yeses, with no space for a slowed-down intentional life. 

 

What about you? When change is in the air, what tempts you to overload your calendar, rather than lean over into Jesus? 

 

What is happening deep within you as the changes open up possibilities?

 

What Yes might need to be walked back home, like a plate overloaded from unrealistic eyes, impulsive appetites grabbing each bright shiny thing in its path?  

 

I’m leaning in some fresh ways so that Yes to less actually creates space to stay in the slow like Jesus did. I want my life to be more and more full with Jesus. So often, He left the crowd to slip away with Father to a place of silence to converse. So often, He didn’t stay in the possible momentum, rather He paid attention to the invitation to be with Father more than simply doing things for the Kingdom. 

 

Questions for Reflection on Your YES

Jesus extends His hand at the turnstile. I let my fingers linger in His palm. I feel my breathing slow down. I notice a timelessness enter the air. I lean my head toward His voice. I hear His whisper. His Yes is the one that matters most.  

 

• • What tempts you to a quick yes?
  • What slows you from walking your yes back from the edge of franticness? 
  • What helps you rethink before you load up your days with too many yeses?