Distance Gives You Perspective
As I write this, I’m sitting in my aunt and uncle’s house in Charlotte, NC. I decided to evacuate here due to Hurricane Milton, choosing to observe the situation from a safe distance rather than experiencing it up close.
While driving out of the city and seeing the jam-packed freeway, I started to realize something about distance. I’ve been stuck in a perpetual cycle of bad habits — quitting them, relapsing, and repeating the process over and over.
Over the past few months, I’ve been feeling down about myself, frustrated by my lack of progress toward my goals. Interestingly, when I arrived in Charlotte, I took my dog for a walk with my aunt. She also has a golden doodle, so we had two fluffy, cotton-like pups happily prancing around. During our walk, my aunt introduced me to the concept of “cheap grace.” As I explore my own faith more deeply, I’ve found that I struggle with offering myself grace and discernment. So this fits perfectly with how I have been feeling.
The concept of cheap grace intrigues me because I often give myself just that. I tell myself I’m doing well at quitting these habits, yet I know I’m just talking. I struggle with staying true to my own word. It’s easy for me to keep promises to others, but when it comes to myself, I’m inconsistent. I’ll commit to waking up at a certain time but end up sleeping in, or I’ll decide to avoid going out, only to give in to social invitations. What I have come to believe is cheap grace is excusing yourself from taking responsibility for your negative habits.
”Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.” — James 1:12
One of my close friends here is a kind, smart, caring, and honest person. I don’t have many close friends in the area, but she’s definitely one. I think she struggles with honesty to herself, just as I do, which makes me see a bit of myself in her. She’s mentioned taking breaks from going out but often falls back into old habits, something I relate to all too well. It makes me wonder if she views her grace as cheap.
We’ve set expectations for each other, but they haven’t always aligned. I want her to challenge herself and work on self-improvement. She’s twenty and wants to enjoy life, which I understand, but if she asks me to keep her accountable, she shouldn’t get upset when I do. There’s a great definition of a friend I heard from Chris Williamson (who got it from Lex Friedman): “A true friend isn’t someone who tells you it’s all going to be okay, but someone who says, ‘This problem is tough, but you’re tougher.’” This is how I view her, someone I want to push, because I know deep inside there is greatness in her.
I’ve come to appreciate the value of sharing a piece of yourself as a way to show others that you’re not perfect. For instance, I struggle with a nicotine addiction, which I’m not proud of. I know it’s harmful, yet there’s something about smoking that feels indulgent — like I’m in control. This is ironic because the only thing that is controlling me is the nicotine.
In the past three weeks, I’ve started to enjoy a new routine. I’m getting back to the gym four to five times a week, with a goal to run at least once a week. I’ve been slacking on my reading goals this year, so I’m aiming to read six books before the end of the year, currently averaging 20–35 pages a day. I also want to challenge myself to write eight more blog posts and three more in-depth articles on topics that make me think. My focus for the rest of the year is on cultivating value through scarcity — turning my energy inward after spending too much of it on others recently, which has taken a mental toll.
Ultimately, I’ve come to realize that lying to myself is the worst form of deception. It opens me up to being deceived by others, too. Distance has provided me with a perspective I couldn’t see before because I was too close to the issues.