• Part of it may be the joy of a “gotcha!” moment. As in, “I’ll point out how clueless other people are. That’ll be helpful.”
• Part of it is the old “preaching to the choir” mindset. It reminds those of like opinion that they are not alone. People enjoy having their posts “liked” and having folks agree with them.
• It might be that people post things to attempt to sway others to their viewpoint. There may be times when that actually worked, but I’d classify that as a miracle or exception.

• The 24-hour news cycle. You gotta fill that time with something if you’re a newscaster.
• Cable news in general. In the latter days of my mama’s life, she’d have CNN or Fox or something on the TV round the clock. I would absolutely lose my mind if I had to subject myself to that.
• Ease of acquiring information. I’m just a click away from having access to most anything.
• Tech devices. I am currently armed with my iPhone. I’m typing on a keyboard on my iPad. At our house, there are a half-dozen computers, laptops, tablets, etc. Am I in bondage to all this gee-whiz gadgetry? Are you? You decide.

• Restrict your intake of news. Again, this isn’t about being uninformed. It’s a matter of getting just enough to give you a sense of what’s going on around you. But to subject yourself to the same awful story over and over can’t be healthy. (* See note below.)
• Focus on the things you can actually do something about. If you aren’t happy with someone in office, say, then vote them out. In the United States, we have this really cool reset button. Vote in your guy or girl next time.
• If there are things you are exposed to that you can’t do anything about – move on. Don’t dwell on the “what if’s?” I heard a neat term used in counseling a while back: “Catastrophizing.” It’s irrationally looking to the worst possible outcome of any incident or circumstance. Mama called it “borrowing trouble.”
• Ask yourself: “Do I find satisfaction in learning of and exploiting someone else’s failures?” If that’s so, then “Why am I like that?” is a sensible next question.
• Find a cause that’s worth investing your life in and do it. Of course, serving God is the ultimate cause. But there may be other things that engage you.  If you’re passionate about animal rights, for instance, I think that’s terrific. Just don’t devalue people who aren’t as passionate as you. This comes under the category of “guarding your heart” because you’ll save yourself some frustration when you realize we all have things important to us. And those things don’t necessarily have to be the same.
• Restrict your “I’m right, therefore you’re wrong” impulses to a minimum. Who knows? Sometimes the other person might be right.
• There may be some people in your life that want to drag you down right along with them. Love them anyway. That gives you extraordinary power. But – choose, as best you can, how you interact with them.

I am struck this morning by how many people are living in fear. 

For some, it’s a definite, identifiable “thing.” Others, it’s just a general sense of being afraid.

Consider this. COVID is still hanging around, although it seems to be on the decline, thank you, Jesus. Sure, there are those out there who sound the alarm over some new variant, some new precaution, some new mandate (yuck. But in my neck of the woods, I’m hearing a resounding “so what?”) 

At any rate, the virus, and all that surrounds it, are working on folks who are living in fear. 

It might be fear of the virus itself. It has killed people. So people living in fear of the virus might take steps to protect themselves that others think are nonsense.

There, too, is the fear of vaccines. Some of those living in fear of vaccines think the science isn’t settled, that there is some nefarious global conspiracy, or other thoughts.

Depending on which side you come down on, the truth is that there are those living in fear no matter what the other side says. Who’s right? Beats me, but that’s not the point.

Point is – people are scared.

There are plenty of other Very Bad Things that can cause folks to live in fear.

• Ukraine. While if you are “safe” in the relative isolation of our country – at least, you don’t see evidence that Russia is about to invade your town – there are Ukrainians who are being systematically annihilated. That’s genuinely scary. 
• The economy. People, I’m just about at a place where I’m going to need to take out a second mortgage just to pay for food and gas. I went to buy a pound of ground beef yesterday, and thought I’d need an armed escort to walk me back to the car. I was afraid I’d be mugged for meat and it would then be sold on the black market.
• Morals. Just when I think it can’t get worse, I’ll be danged – it can, and it does. The values I grew up with are routinely spurned, if not ridiculed. Gender issues? I don’t know where to even start. It flies in the face of rational thinking. Celebrating sin? I see that all the time. How folks can be proud of being perverse is beyond me, but hey, I’m a dinosaur, right? 

All that’s to say … maybe you’re living in fear. As God is my witness, I am here to say to you: That is not of God.

A couple of distinctions, however.

• There is a difference in fear and legitimate concern. There are irrational fears, certainly. As I write this, we are anticipating our weekly round of tornadic weather. Ah, the joys of living in Mississippi! This is the fourth week in a row. But I am not afraid. Being scared isn’t helpful. I can be concerned, because concern will take me to a place of prudence and caution. I’ll watch our weathercasts, and do what I need to do to be safe. See the difference? 
• Concern moves you to positive, practical actions. Fear settles into your bone marrow and slowly makes you crazy.

This may sound clinical and cold, but it can help simply to play the odds. The odds are extraordinarily good that we won’t be wiped out by a tornado. I’ve heard people say, regarding the COVID vaccine, “People have died from that!” My response? “Not that many.” I mean, what am I supposed to say? (There’s a little snark there on my part. Maybe you need to add me to your prayer list.)

All this setup about living in fear gives me all the reason I need to give you hope and encouragement.

I expect some of the most fearful people in all the Bible were Jesus’ disciples after the crucifixion. These poor hapless guys. They’d spent literally years with Jesus, saw a lot of amazing things (healings? People being raised from the dead? You know, just typical occurrences in the first century.) He even made this audacious claim that after three days in a tomb He’d come back to life. 

The disciples knew all this. It didn’t sink in. Maybe they thought He was speaking metaphorically. 

Because, when He was arrested, they bolted and ran. At the crucifixion itself, I’m guessing some of them felt close to despair. They deserted Him because they were flat-out scared, and the best some of them could manage while Jesus was on the cross was to watch from a distance. And after all that, we see the disciples all scrunched up together, behind locked doors because they were afraid. Living in fear, as it were. Muttering things like, “Well, that didn’t go like it was supposed to.”

Then Jesus busts up right in the middle of them. Boo-yah! That scared them, too, but they ended up rejoicing. (Is that a lesson for us or what?)

After the resurrection came the ascension. 

At this point, I’m gonna admit to being lazy and instead of the research I should do, I’m going to rely on my admittedly porous memory.

I can’t recall a single time in scripture – specifically in Acts – where there was any word or evidence that would lead me to believe the disciples were living in fear any more. (Feel free to correct me.)

It’s apparent. Experiencing the resurrection eliminated fear. 

Want me to belabor the obvious? 

In light of the resurrection, which this year we celebrate on April 17, we don’t need to be living in fear any more. The fear of death has been removed. Since that’s the big one, then it stands to reason we don’t have anything else to be afraid of, either.

This is easier said than done, of course. Still, the banishment of fear comes with a complete identification with Jesus Christ and the power that comes from the Holy Spirit. As in all things in life, you don’t have to face your fears alone. 

The tomb is empty and the throne is occupied. O be joyful.

Talk soon!                                                                                                              

Here are 10 things never to say with someone dealing with mental health issues

I can’t find the quote or source, but it goes something like this: “Some people pretend to be sick. Those with mental health issues pretend to be well.”

Depression, anxiety, fears … they are part of the human experience. Fact is, there are many, many people who deal with these issues on a daily basis, and you’d never know it.

These are diseases, and should be treated as such.

But – if you have a friend or loved one who deals with mental health challenges, I’ve seen that people often mean well, but are clueless when it comes to what to say.

Here’s my own list of ten things not to say:

1. “It’s all in your head.” Well, it is. Sort of. While some mental health issues are due to dysfunctional thinking, there are a whole host of physical components that can play into it. The phrase “chemical imbalance” is tossed around casually, but the roots of mental illness can often be found in something going on internally, and not necessarily in “your head.”
2. “It’s not as bad as it seems.” Guess what – what is no big deal for one person can be absolutely crippling for another. What you’re saying with that phrase is “my worldview is better than yours.” I mean. Really?
3. “I know what you mean. I had to turn the TV off because what I saw on the news and it was depressing me.” Okay, props for trying to find a point of identification. This attempt at relating to what your loved one is going through is kind-hearted, but also misguided. It implies that those two things are the same or of similar consequence and minimizes their pain.
4. “There are plenty of people in worse condition than you.” That’s great – how about encouraging someone by comparing them to someone else? That’s so wrong on so many levels I don’t know where to start. For all of us – comparing yourself to others can mess you up. How about focusing on what makes you unique?
5. “Are you okay?” That sounds pretty innocuous, and isn’t really too bad. The danger is that it puts the other person in a place where they’re almost obligated to say “I’m fine,” when that isn’t the case. It also implies that the person needs to get better immediately, and mental health issues seldom have a quick fix. I’ve gotten to where I respond “No, I’m not okay!” That effectively ends the conversation. Honesty and candor can do that.
6. “You have so much to be thankful for.” And that, of course, is true. Problem is that you can be thankful and hurting at the same time. We as believers are supernaturally blessed, but we are not exempt from spending some parallel time in some dark places. That phrase implies that if you were really consistently thankful, you wouldn’t feel the way you do.
7. “Get over it.” Hey, thanks for displaying some grace and mercy.
8. “Things could be worse.” This is a companion to #5. It’s like saying, “Fred lost his job, got diagnosed with cancer, and ran over his cat.” If you’ve never dealt with mental illness personally, then it’s hard for you to understand that depression, anxiety, etc., don’t necessarily have to have triggers. They just are.
9. “Just be positive.” And while you’re at it, tell someone with diabetes to “think happy thoughts” instead of taking their insulin. If it were only that simple.
10. “Have you prayed about it?” The implication here for the believer is “you must not have prayed, or else God would have delivered you, so your faith is weak.” My response is to take a look at scripture, for starters – check out words from David, Elijah, and other godly people. And understand, too, that God is the Great Physician, all healing ultimately comes from Him, but He has all sorts of healing tools at His disposal – proper counseling and medications, for example.

Finally, I’ll share some things I’ve heard that are helpful:

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Talk to me. I’m listening.”

“Would you like to talk about what you’re going through? Or is there someone else you’d be comfortable talking to?”

“I am proud of you for getting the support you need.”

“What can I do to help?”

“I am there for you, you’re not alone in this.”

“You are important to me.”

“I love you.”

Talk later!

Worried about Ukraine?

I am watching the horrific tragedy of Russia invading Ukraine in real time. History buff that I am, I’m getting WWII vibes here.

I could go on about Putin being psychotic, about how the Ukrainians are showing steely resolve, and how we as the United States should engage. I also think that Volodymyr Zelenskyy will be a future member of the Avengers. That’s not what this blog is about.

Because, if you’re worried about Ukraine, then I want to share some ways you can maybe break that cycle of worry.

Actually, I’ll broaden this out to dealing with anxiety in general.

I’ve dealt with worry and anxiety plenty of times in my blog. My sense, though, is that mental health issues like anxiety don’t need to be ignored … there is always someone wanting a fresh word of encouragement.

Anxiety and worry – sort of the same thing, perhaps – about Ukraine or anything else can paralyze you. It is a demon. There seems to be a progression in worry. (Note: This isn’t all original to me, but I’ll be dogged if I can find or remember the original sources. I’m pretty bad about just scribbling stuff in my journal and not identifying where it came from.)

Anyway … here are five steps to anxiety. If you want to worry about Ukraine, here’s how to worry effectively. (Tongue in cheek here, of course. I know my humor doesn’t always travel well. I had someone on Instagram light me up because she thought I was making light of the situation over there, just because I’d reposted something from The Babylon Bee. Mea culpa.)

1. Worry first rears its head because of some sort of pressure. It may be you were expecting something and your expectations were unmet. For instance, you might’ve expected a good report from your doctor and didn’t get it. You may feel like “the government” is forcing you to do something you’re against. The point is that pressure – from without or within – can cause anxiety.
2. Worry lives rent-free in your mind. Whatever that thing is that is causing you anxiety – Ukraine or whatever – is metastasizing like a cancer. It’s eating you up from the inside. It is taking on way too much influence than it should.
3. Worry changes your behavior. Often, men just default to radio silence. They keep it bottled up, because they’re afraid it’ll show up as some sort of weakness. Maybe that’s a sexist impression, since women may be more expressive in their worry. Either way, anxiety impacts how you act. 
4. Worry changes the way you think. If you’re worried about Ukraine, then your thought life can become focused in an unhealthy way. It’s a bit like point 2 above, but this is a matter of focus. Maybe even an obsession. I’ve seen this on social media a lot … I can predict what someone’s Facebook or Instagram post is going to be about even before I read it. It’s being single-minded in all the wrong ways.
5. Worry unchecked takes you to one of the worst places imaginable – it makes you feel like a loser. You think you’ve failed because you can’t seem to shake your anxiety. Or, it may even be that you worry because you worry. Isn’t that an awful state?

This all culminates in a self-fulfilling prophecy. The very things you don’t want to happen happen anyway because you’ve become obsessed. Covid is another great example … people are anxious because of possible mandates, or anxious because not enough people have gotten vaccinated, or anxious because they worry they’ll fall in that miniscule percentage of folks who get really sick.

Obviously, worrying about Ukraine isn’t helpful, because chances are you can not directly influence what is happening on the ground over there. (You can help, though – there are plenty of legitimate ways to get aid to those Ukrainians who desperately need it.)

I’ll share a little personal experience.

Several years ago I worked for a parachurch organization in metro Atlanta. It was a dream job – to this day I don’t think I’ve ever served in any capacity in any role that was better suited for me. It was how I was hardwired. It was a gift.

Problem was, though, I had to raise my own support. My livelihood was dependent on me going to basically everyone I knew and say something like, “Hey, will you send me $30 a month for the rest of your natural life so I can buy some groceries?”

I was unspeakably lousy at it. To ask for money, to engage on what felt like such a needy level … ack. 

The result was that we barely scratched by. Some months were worse than others. There were times when I’d get all spiritual and say things like “the Lord will take care of our needs.” I believed that.

Then I’d look at the checkbook and realize I had to pay the electric bill.

Was I anxious about that? You bet. I experienced every one of those five points I shared earlier. It put relational pressure on my family, on my friends, on everybody. I wasn’t much fun to be around.

Worry had got the upper hand. It affected my personality. It made me come across (in my eyes) as a failure, a loser. 

I got some advice, though. Here it is: “Don’t worry.”

Can you imagine how unhelpful that is? It made me want to punch the advice-giver in the head. 

However, there is a glimmer of hope in a solution. If you’re worried about Ukraine, or Covid, or global warming or anything else, here’s what I’m learning. God knows I’m not there yet.

If you change the way you behave, then you change the outcome.

Remember Jesus’ admonition to “turn the other cheek?” Talk about counterintuitive. Someone slaps you, and you offer up the other side of your face so you can be slapped again. 

This isn’t about just being a wimp. The normal response is to hit back, and harder. But when you take a hit and don’t hit back, you’ve disrupted a cycle. You’ve changed the outcome of where the exchange was going. Two things have happened: you have controlled your response, and the other person – whether they hit you again or not – has at least been given the opportunity to question their behavior. 

In the case of worry, there’s a similar strategy.

• If every time you worry about something, do something to help someone else. It shifts the focus from yourself to the needs of others. It breaks the cycle. 
• If you get anxious because of what you’re seeing on the news, change channels. The Andy Griffin show is always on somewhere. 
• If something on social media upsets you, keep scrolling. You can absolutely control what goes in your head. You don’t have to respond to everyone, even when they’re wrong. 
• If you are dealing with a health issue, go to the best doctor you can find, do what he or she says, and keep praying. Worrying isn’t going to add a single minute to your lifespan.
• Finally, say with conviction “God’s got this” Because He does.

One more thing. If anxiety is at critical mass in your life, there is absolutely no harm – only benefit – in getting some help. My own story in dealing with depression is a combination of counseling, good meds, a wise neurologist and other medical professionals. Plus having folks around me that love me, support me, and try to understand me.

You can’t do a whole lot about what’s happening in Ukraine. But you can give God the freedom to heal your mind, heart, and emotions. 

Talk later!

Find rest. Walk in God’s way and find Him.

Rest seems to be in short supply these days. There’s a splendid irony at work here. Even though the world has slowed down because of the pandemic, we are more internally unsettled than ever. We may still be busy, but there’s that uneasy churning in our soul that is taking its toll.

So rest is something we’d like to experience, right? Just a sense of peace, of settling down, of being free from the worry and angst of the world. To find rest, in other words.

Since I’m speaking primarily to believers, you understand that God promises rest. Ancient script states in Matthew 11:28-30:

²⁸ “Come to me,all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.²⁹ Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

That’s good stuff right there. The promise of rest. We might struggle, but we know instinctively there’s a way out. So why the struggle many of us have?

Beats me. But I think a lot of it has to do with simple trust in God.

Here’s some good news about rest. Part of finding rest, experiencing rest, comes with the realization that no evil can touch you.

That does not mean, of course, that you will ever be freed from the presence of evil.  We live in a fallen world, right? So evil abounds.

But evil will not harm you in the strictest sense. It can certainly influence you, but when it comes to eternity – and that’s what I’m talking about – it will not cause you to lose your reward.

You will suffer in this world. You’ll deal with illness and loss. Bad things will happen. Evil things, even. But they can’t touch that  part of  you that belongs to God.

I’m not advocating denial here. I am advocating rest coming from knowing you are His, and He is yours. That’s a pretty secure place to be in. That is an opportunity for finding rest.

Rest means not to struggle.

Consider that. Struggle is the antithesis of rest. When you’re fighting, you aren’t resting. You’re on alert, you’re all wound up, and you’re a bundle of tension.

I wonder if part of our struggles are imposed by the world. Does the word “overwhelmed” resonate with you? Feel like you’re fighting something all the time?

Here’s where that line of thinking will invariably lead. You’ll find yourself struggling, fretting, and feeling swamped by life itself. Worse, there may be a sense you’re all alone in your struggles. Awful. You can’t find rest.

That loneliness comes from a sense that no one can really understand what you’re facing. Actually, that’s true. While some people can empathize, no one will ever totally get it because you are unique in every way. That’s not a bad thing.

I don’t have a magic formula for finding rest for you, or really even showing you how to find rest. So let’s just stick  to basics, shall we?

God alone has perfect understanding of you. He understands you even when you don’t understand you. Crazy, right?

When you need perfect understanding, that’s where you go.

When you need the awareness of a perfect, loving, tender relationship, that’s really your only option.

So. Want to find rest? For those days when you’re overwhelmed, when rest seems like a fantasy, and you want to say to the world “Please understand me!”, here’s the good news.

Someone does.

Be well.

There’s part of me that tends to think of self-care as the activity of a wimp. That’s not true, of course.

The typical mandate for me, as a believer, has been in the acrostic J.O.Y. – Jesus, others, you. To me, it’s a noble thing to spend myself in the service of others. The betterment of mankind, if you will.

Self-care comes in third place in that schema. I’m wondering if that’s actually the most helpful methodology.

Follow me here. I have a bit of a testimony/confession to share.

I’m aware of having two clinical panic attacks, and possibly a third.

The first two happened while we were living in New Smyrna Beach, Florida. One time, Teresa and I were sitting in the stands during Jeremy’s peewee football practice. All was well.

Out of nowhere, I got short-winded. My heart felt like it was about to erupt from my chest. I broke out in the proverbial cold sweat. Then came the chest pains.

I was alarmed enough to ask Teresa to take me to the ER. Note: saying you have chest pains will get you to the front of the line.

After an EKG, tests for enzymes, blood oxygen, and other imponderables,  I was turned loose because, physically, there was nothing wrong.

It happened again a few weeks later. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

This time Teresa and I were on a date. We were at the movies. I don’t remember what we were watching.

What I do remember is that about fifteen minutes into the film, I had the same symptoms as I did earlier. I tried to talk myself out of it, breathe deeply, the whole drill. Nothing. So off to the ER we go.

Same diagnosis as before. Nada.

Afterwards, I confided in a friend who I thought would “get it.” It turned out that he had a history of panic attacks – I’d never have expected! – and he said what I was describing were textbook symptoms.

My argument then, as now, is that there was nothing wrong. Seriously, I wasn’t going through any kind of crisis or anxious ordeal. There just wasn’t any reason for it to happen. So I thought.

Since then, I’ve had my struggles with mental illness, which has been multiplied since my head injury three years ago or so. Being the anal researcher that I am, in trying to figure stuff out, I ran across articles about panic attacks. Understand that I’m not one to be anxious; depression is my thorn in the flesh.

What I found is that, true, there doesn’t have to be anything in particular to trigger a panic attack. A cause can be vague and ill-defined, and be due to the cumulative effect of a lot of little things. I love knowing the “why’s”  of a situation.

The why’s aren’t evident. Enter self-care.

I share all that because this past Sunday I had a low-level panic attack. I don’t think anyone knew. I recognized what was happening and was able to deal with it. It took the rest of the day, but I emerged just fine.

As before, there wasn’t anything to cause it, at least superficially. There were, however, some stuff happening.

I’ve noted on these pages my tendency to try to fix everything and everyone. That’s a type of codependency, they say. I’m aware of that and recognize it.

I’ve been taking stock of the state of the world in recent days. It ain’t pretty.

Just when you thought the pandemic was in the rear-view mirror, the delta variant has come roaring back with a vengeance. You are wise not to ignore it. Actually, you can’t ignore it. We are bombarded with questionable information, and trying to sort through it is nightmarish. Folks are flat-out scared – they are scared of dying from Covid, or scared of losing their freedoms, or any number of fears in between.

What I’ve tried to do in the midst of all that is to be the voice of reason. When I’ve posted my thoughts on Facebook or wherever, I’ve learned that people tend to get really upset with you when you try to be reasonable. I’m like, dude, do your own objective research, vette your sources, and remember: My experts can beat up your experts.

That’s Covid. You can’t escape its impact. I thought about this earlier … the virus, were it a sentient thing, doesn’t care about any of the discussions we’re having. It lives to infect, and if one route of infection isn’t successful, it figures out a different way to go about its task of living and reproducing. I hate Covid because of what it’s doing to you, me, us. I wish there were a test for the mental and emotional effects of it, just like there’s a test for the virus itself. We’d see just how sick we collectively are.

That’s just for starters.

Let’s throw Afghanistan in the mix. How about earthquakes and tropical storms? How about just general all-around meanness and hostility? And the most divided United States since 1861!

Lovely.

Being an empath, I tend to absorb all this even when I’m not aware of it. Then I face “compassion fatigue.” I want to reach out to others, but before I know it, I got ‘nuthin. I just retreat silently into solitude, for as long as it takes for me to recharge. Sometimes it takes longer than others. (This week has been a case in point.)

That’s where the self-care thing comes in.

That’s not being selfish and self-centered. It’s simply recognizing your personal needs and taking steps to meet them, or have them met. Is that weakness? I think not.

It’s self-evident. You can’t water others from an empty well.

As a believer, I tap into that living water source. In this particular blog, I won’t go into specifics. I’d like for us to talk more, though, about how to get nourishment without being a glutton. And how to keep self-care from mutating to a place where you think the world exists to meet your needs.

Addendum: Last year I wrote an online course/workshop called Cruising Through Chaos. I’ve gone back and taken my own study. Doggoned if it didn’t help me, and I’m the dude that developed it. That falls in the category of “physician, heal thyself.” Or, “practice what you preach.”

You can check it out HERE. I recommend it if you’re in a bad headspace. Or, if you’re doing fine, share it with someone who isn’t doing as well as you.

Talk soon.

“It’s mandatory.” Just that phrase makes me cringe.

“Mandatory” is very much a loaded word these days. You know where I’m going with this.

The word “mandatory,” of late, has been followed by either “masks” or “vaccinations.” That’s some dumpster fire stuff right there. And divisive? Ho-lee cow.

I’ll be back to this in a minute.

I’m thinking back over my lifetime, which is a challenge for someone who has trouble remembering his own name. Has there been a time when we as Americans were genuinely united?

There have been a couple of times I can recall. In 1969, we were all so collectively proud of our moon landing. I was actually in Venice, Italy, when the “giant leap for mankind” took place. St. Mark’s Square was dotted with televisions all over the historic plaza, with groups of people crowded in close. Occasionally, a cheer would go up – from Americans, no doubt. That was an event we got behind.

More recently – although to many this is ancient history – was the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. Can it be 20 years? Wow. If you’re of a certain age, you remember just exactly where you were when the first tower was hit. I was pulling up in the parking lot of the Mississippi Baptist Convention Board when one of my coworkers walked up as I was getting out of the car. “Have you heard?” he asked, and went on to share what had happened. I hustled up to my office, found a livestream, and sat transfixed.

For a little while, at least, we were united against a common foe. That unity didn’t last long.

Then along came COVID-19.

I won’t rehash the last year-and-a-half. I’ll just bet you thought we were done with this scourge back in the spring. Businesses were reopening, we were shedding our masks, and vaccinations were available. Social distancing became less prevalent. Those were good, hopeful days.

Look at us now.

I thought with the advent of COVID-19, we could unite against a common foe. No one has been untouched by this blight.

My bad. “United” is not a term I’d come close to using. What a shame. It didn’t have to be this way.

It’s pretty bad out there, and I’m not just talking about the virus. I’m talking about the mental and emotional toll it’s taking, and in some ways, it feels even worse than last year.

I’m more concerned about what the virus is doing to our heads than what it’s doing to our lungs.

Coming back around to my thesis, the phrase “it’s mandatory” has the ability to throw people into an absolute tizzy. I hear about loss of liberties and the upcoming demise of the Republic.

So, in full disclosure, I don’t agree with mandatory vaccines or mandatory masks, at least on the governmental level. I’ve had Covid, I’ve been vaccinated, and I’m at total peace about my choices. But I won’t cast you in my autobiography.

It comes back to that uniquely American sense of “You can’t tell me what to do!” I get that. I have enough redneck blood in me to bristle at being dictated to.

However, in some places it’s mandatory to get vaccinated because it’s a condition of employment. A privately owned business has the right to set their own hiring policies, within the boundaries of pre-existing laws.  Here in Mississippi, for instance, an employer can fire a hireling and not have to justify why, in most cases.

So here’s a little thought-provoking verse from ancient script. You’ll find it in Judges 17:6:

In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.

That second sentence, though.

If we say “It’s mandatory” about most anything, that counteracts doing what is right in our own eyes. There’s an “outsider” dictating our choices and behavior.

Of course, we don’t live in a monarchy. There is no king in the United States (and I’m sure there are some politicians who are disappointed with that.)

But in our culture here, there are some things that are mandatory.

Paying taxes comes to mind. You don’t have to pay your mandatory taxes, for instance, but there are consequences. You’ve done what was right in your own eyes, but there may be some repercussions from your choices. I could cite some more things that are mandatory, but you catch my drift.

Without some things being mandatory, then, chaos would rule. I guess we could talk about whether something is actually mandatory, but that’s some deep weeds to get into. Especially in these polarized, troubled times.

If you are a believer, though, don’t forget that obedience to God is mandatory. That doesn’t mean you can’t still make unwise decisions, because we all sin, and have to deal with the consequences. What it does mean, though, is that we should go to extraordinary lengths to do the wise thing.

Because – we DO have a king. He’s not an earthly ruler. And we’d best obey Him rather than doing what’s right in our own eyes.

Here, in these days, are some things that are mandatory for me:

• I listen before I speak.
• I view everything with the cross as its background.
• I accept that I may be wrong about some things, even things I prefer to believe.
• I must be willing to change.
• No matter what someone says, they may have a point.
• I can’t do just what is right in my own eyes – I have to be mindful of the needs of others.
• Regarding that last point: It’s Jesus, Others, You (me.)
• I will be an encourager, even when my empathy tank is just about dry.
• I will protect myself from unwanted negativity.
• I will strive to be around people who make me proud to call them friends because they are lightbringers.
• I will not judge unbelievers. God will judge them.
• When there’s someone I assume is an idiot, I’ll check myself and remember – I don’t know their story. They are behaving in a fashion that is consistent with who they are. They are precious and of worth.
• I will remember to ask myself, “In light of my past experiences, present circumstances, and my future hopes and dreams, what’s the wise thing for me to do?” (Sort of an Andy Stanley paraphrase.)

Believer, it’s mandatory that you follow Jesus. Do that, and life will take care of itself. You’ll know what to do.

Be blessed.

I hate cancer. Of course, I’m not aware of anyone who loves it.

This past week one of my former students died. Daryl Summey was in my youth group at St. Andrew Baptist Church in Panama City, Florida, back in the mid-80’s. He and his brother Chip were pillars of the group. And his parents Delbert (Ace!) and Carol were some of my staunchest encouragers. Daryl acknowledged a call to vocational ministry, and found the highest calling – student/youth ministry. He was serving First Baptist Church, Eastman, Georgia, before God called him home.

I prayed for Daryl daily. I’m still praying for his family. Daryl died of cancer. I hate cancer.

Right now, a local pastor friend of mine, Lee Faler, is dealing with the cancer of his son, Rankin. Rankin has an inoperable brain tumor. The fleshly prognosis is not good. I pray for their family daily.

I could go on, but you know what I mean. I’ll bet that you or your friends or family have all been touched by this insidious disease.

Yesterday I had a squamous cell carcinoma sliced off the top of my head. I’ve had a couple of basal cell carcinomas scooped out, too. These are absolutely no big deal … I guess if you ignored them, they could get nasty. Still, cancer is cancer. I hate cancer.

A few years back the urologist found a renal cell carcinoma in my left kidney. He went in with one of those wonderful robotic gizmos, sliced it out, ground it up, sucked it out, and I’m good to go. No chemo, no radiation, none of that. One and done.

In a very technical sense, I guess I’m a cancer survivor, although at no point was my life in any danger with any of these, because I dealt with them early on, and they simply weren’t “that bad.” Still, when you say the “C” word, it gets your attention.

But, the reason I hate cancer is because it’s a sign of rebellion.

This link talks about this. 

In layman’s terms, cancer occurs when some of the body’s cells grow abnormally and spread to other parts of the body. Abnormal or damaged cells grow and multiply when they shouldn’t. Not good.

There are over 100 kinds of cancer and, as I’ve noted, some are much worse than others. Some are treatable and curable if caught early. Some – well – if you’re diagnosed with them, you might as well make or revise your will.

Back to the rebellion thing: Think about this. Your body turns against itself. I know that heart disease kills more people than cancer, but it’s sort of predictable, y’know? It’s not as “sneaky,” if you will.

I hate cancer. It’s taken some fine people I love away from me.

It occurred to me, though, that cancer doesn’t necessarily have to be physical.

Consider this: there is mental cancer. As I’m writing this, the world is abuzz about Simone Biles who has withdrawn from individual all-around gymnastics at the Tokyo Olympics to focus on her mental well-being. Responses have been mixed, to put it lightly; I just read an editorial that slammed her for abandoning her team and her county. And I’ve read how what she did was heroic.

I won’t wade into that, other than noting that if she’d withdrawn because of appendicitis, how she’d be viewed would be totally different. Mental health – still – is viewed differently from physical health. Having my own issues with mental health makes me a bit more sympathetic, perhaps.

Fact is, though, that mental cancer might present itself in such a way that a person like Simone is dealing with a struggle she simply can’t manage without intervention and help. Lord, y’all, she’s already proven her strength and mettle. She is not a quitter. But this one just sidelined her, and I’d wager this has been building for some time.

Her mind has rebelled. I hate cancer, and I hate this.

Emotional cancer? There may be such a thing. I’m aware of an individual who has a hair-trigger temper, and it expresses itself volcanically. It’s ugly, and it’s scary. And if you were to question him, he’d say that he literally goes out of control.

In other words, his emotions have overcome him. They’ve rebelled against what should be his even-keeled nature.

Oh, and spiritual cancer. That’s a thing, too.

Christian believers often, purposefully and methodically, rebel against God. I hate cancer, and I really hate this kind.

Sin is cancer.

There may be other kinds of cancer – think about what financial cancer might look like, or vocational cancer, or maybe even relational cancer. You could make a long list about how rebellion manifests itself.

But back to Daryl – there’s no question that he was prayed for, earnestly and consistently. And God did heal him – but in Daryl’s case, God chose the ultimate healing. Daryl is healthy, pain-free, and walking with Jesus forever.

So. If you identify with any of these cancers I’ve mentioned, guess where healing comes from?

God, the Great Physician, is ultimately the source of all healing. He has all sorts of tools to make folks better – medicine (maybe vaccines, and yep, I said that), counseling, pastors, friends, families, and many more.

It comes down to one big question, though:

Do you want to get well?

Here’s an example. Let’s say you’re diagnosed with melanoma. It’s visible because it’s on the skin. And it can go all metastatic on you, spreading all over. But, caught early, it doesn’t have to be a death sentence.

Imagine, though, that a dermatologist finds a spot on your arm, and the pathology identifies it as melanoma. And rather than getting treatment for it, you say, “You aren’t touching that. It’s MY cancer. I’m gonna nurture it, and love it, and watch it grow.”

I know. Right? Hardly. You’re gonna deal with that sucker.

If you hate cancer, you will seek treatment. The issue, though, is that we tolerate other cancers or ignore them. Mental, emotional, spiritual – you follow me?

Don’t allow something to take root in your life and gradually eat away at you. Get the help you need. God meets those needs, and He has all sorts of ways of dealing with your cancers. It’s not you being weak by seeking help; it’s you being smart.

I hate cancer. But there is a cure.

Be well.

Are these the good old days? Will future generations look back yearning for 2020 and early 2021?

That seems unfathomable, now doesn’t it?

Here’s some background concerning my personal good old days.

I’ll have to plug you into my autobiography for a bit.

I was born in 1956 into a middle-class home in Elba, Alabama. I grew up an only child.

Daddy worked at the post office. He wasn’t a mail carrier, but a clerk. Maybe “head clerk,” whatever that meant.

Mama taught school. Mostly sixth grade, and mostly geography, history, and civics.

I was a repulsively good child. I was benignly spoiled. As that only child, I recognized early on that I didn’t need to screw up the deal I had. So I was good. Actually, that wasn’t a challenge. Whatever rebellion I had was mostly internalized.

I didn’t smoke, and this was back when smoking was a national pastime. It just seemed gross. I wasn’t interested.

I didn’t drink. The couple of times I tasted alcohol it was just nasty. Cokes were much tastier. Again, this was a non-issue. Not even close to being a temptation.

Drugs. Oh, please. Really? Hard no on that one.

I did like girls a lot. Tempted? Well, yeah. But I managed to keep things on the proper side of restraint and righteousness.

See what I mean? I was repulsively good. Maybe that’s why I consider those the good old days because they were.

That’s not to say that I didn’t have issues. We all have issues, do we not? It’s just a matter of degree and type.

It took me a long time, well into adulthood, for me to realize what being an introvert was. I thought it was a character flaw, because societal expectations meant that you were to be engaging, and social, and chatty.

I could pull those traits off. Still can. But after a period of extroverting, I have to go lay down. I’m spent.

Introversion isn’t a flaw any more than having blue eyes instead of brown is. It’s just a thing. I”ve made peace with that. And I’ve discovered (and even “tested out”) that I am a textbook empath. Not only to I know how you’re feeling, I feel how you’re feeling. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. It does explain how, in ministry, I’ve proven to be a lousy hospital visitor. I just want to climb in the next bed and be sick along with you.

All that’s to say that in those good old days I felt like a perpetual outsider, whether in reality I was or not. I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere.

Waaaahhhh.

Those good old days, if you want to put calendar dates on it, would be roughly the period from 1964 through 1974.

If I were to step outside myself and be objective, historically there wasn’t a lot of good things happening on the world and US stage.

In 1964 we had the Vietnam war escalating. Three civil rights workers were murdered in Mississippi and the president signed the Civil Rights act of 1964, but that didn’t stop the violence. The Warren Commission released its report on JFK’s assisination.

1965 – Selma to Montgomery and Bloody Sunday. The Voting Rights Act was signed into law. Race riots in Watts, California. Vietnam continued to roil.

1967 – Six Day War. 40,000 anti war protestors in San Francisco. State bans on interracial marriage ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court (which was a good thing, but violently unwelcomed in many places.)

1968 – Martin Luther King Jr. assassinated. Hong Kong flu pandemic. Robert Kennedy assassinated. US soldiers massacre men, women, and children in My Lai.

1971 – the New York Times releases sections of the Pentagon Papers, revealing that the US government had lied to the American People about the Vietnam war, among other issues.

1972 – Munich Olympics Terrorist Attack. George Wallace shot. Antiwar demonstrations draw 100,000. Watergate.

1973 – Roe v. Wade.

1974 – Nixon resigns in disgrace. Inflation tops 11.3% in the US and 17.2% in the UK, and the global recession deepens. I graduate from high school.

Those were the good old days, at least in my worldview.

So are these the good old days for this generation?

I’ll go with a qualified “it depends.”

I’m struggling for some perspective here. My thought is that things were awful then, they are awful now, and may be “awfuller” in days to come.

But my good old days sentiment isn’t based on “things.”

Rather, my good old days are based in relationships. Autumn days, when the leaves are falling and the wind sighs through the trees. Catching lightning bugs in jars and releasing them in the Elba Theater during a movie. Camping out in the back yard with the guys. Swimming in White Water Creek or the frigid water of the city pool. Football games as part of the Elba High Marching Tigers.

And, again, relationships. My high school “posse.” We’ve stayed in touch all these years. We’re creeping up on our 50th high school reunion in three years. Simply amazing to think about.

See, it’s not the things happening on the national stage that dictate what the good old days are. It’s the little things.

It’s what Russell said in Pixar’s Up: That might sound boring, but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most.

Look. On the surface, 2020 was perfectly awful for most of mankind. You weren’t singled out for individual abuse. We all faced the same nasty microscopic enemy.

Let’s check back with our current crop of teenagers in about 20 years. They’ll be joking about runs on toilet paper, and having to miss graduation, and masks making a fashion statement.

What they’ll remember – and fondly – is how their relationships stayed intact even with physical challenges. They’ll remember what it was like to finally get to hug Grandma again. They’ll remember what it was like to finally get to sit in a football stadium again and cheer (or at least hang out.)

Get it? The good old days are a state of mind. A choice, if you will.

You can make what you wish out of what is happening in your life. To the best of my ability, weak as it can be, I am embracing these days because I never walked alone.

When it comes to relationships, it has been my relationship with God Himself that has sustained me. See? In that sense, every day, in some way, has the potential of being a good old day.

Sweet.

Doomscrolling. Isn’t that an ominous term?

Doomscrolling is one more term that’s entered our vocabulary in the age of COVID. Others include “long-hauler,” “mask shaming,” “flatten the curve,” “social distancing,” and so forth. These are all terms I’d just as soon we drop, honestly.

But doomscrolling is a little different. It’s not a recognized term in the Merriam-Webster yet, but probably will be. Wikipedia offers this:

Doomscrolling (also known as doomsurfing)^[1] is the act of consuming a large quantity of negative online news at once. Mental health experts^[vague] have stated that the practice can be detrimental to mental health.^{[2][3][4][5][6]}

That last sentence? Well, duh.

Here’s what I’m observing, and what I’d like you to consider, too.

First – do you self-identify as a doomscroller? I’d guess that you’re perfectly aware of how you spend your online time. You may not be as aware of what it’s doing to you by making you anxious, depressed, or feeling isolated. Ugh.

Here’s a helpful exercise.

Pick the social media platform you spend the most time on, especially if you’re a poster, or tend to respond to others’ posts frequently.

We’ll use the ubiquitous Facebook as an example.

Next, do an audit of your posts. Go back a couple of weeks or more and see what you’re saying or responding to. More on that later.

Here’s your red flag: If your posts or your replies tend to be about how awful things are, you are a certified doomscroller. You, consciously or not, are loving being negative.

I mean. Is that healthy?

We live in a chaotic world, and I’m not denying that. Most of the chaos we can’t do anything about, because it’s simply out of our hands. What we can do is manage our response to chaos.

Think about it, and I’ll focus on last year. 2020 was a Greatest Hits of Awfulness – George Floyd, COVID, the presidential election … and those are just for starters.

True, you could take action on those issues. The death of George Floyd certainly ramped up my awareness of racism. COVID divided folks into warring camps – maskers vs. non-maskers, vaccine takers vs. vaccine rejectors, Trumpers vs. non-Trumpers, and so forth. And conspiracy theories about all these abound.

I’ll make a clear distinction between the things you can actually take action on and influence the outcome vs. the things that we can’t. That’s where doomscrolling comes in.

There is this awful human tendency to dwell on the negative. Sometimes, it seems that some folks are actually embracing the negative.

Here’s what happens. You are drawn to awfulness. I think this is a hard-wired part of our nature. The sense is that what’s bad can hurt us, so in order to protect ourselves, we focus on the bad so that we can avoid it.

In 2021, it doesn’t work that way. We don’t avoid the bad. We marinate in it.

Earlier I mentioned doing an audit of your posts. I have some FB friends – and they really are friends – who post incessantly on how bad things are. I get that. I also wonder about their mental and emotional state. When I’ve asked, a couple of them have admitted that they’re in a bad place, but they keep on wallowing in bad news.

What’s worse, folks who are doomscrolling tend to want to have others join them in their misery. So they feed off each other’s posts, agree with how bad things are, and end up in a cycle of wretchedness.

My simple question: Is this helpful?

My mail order psych degree informs me that this isn’t a good thing. Unless you get some sort of perverse delight out of being miserable, doomscrolling will take a toll on you.

My counsel? Just stop.

Let’s say you run across something on social media that troubles you. You scroll through all the responses, because you want answers. You want to know what’s really going on. And the further you did, the worse you feel. You assume that if you can find an answer (was the election really rigged? Is COVID a Chinese plot? Who was actually responsible for the attack on the Capitol? Was it the Illuminati? Aliens?) you’ll feel better. But in that search, you’ll find that your soul can become tarnished.

Just. Stop.

Here’s how to stop. It isn’t original with me. It’s ancient script from Philippians 4:

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! ⁵ Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Believer, you better pay me some attention here. This will help you.

You were just bombarded by God’s truth in the passage above. When you doomscroll, you are saying, “Yeah, that’s good biblical counsel right there, but I’d much prefer immersing myself in awfulness.”

Don’t reject God’s truth on this one. I mean, He flat-out tells you what to think about.

Don’t be disobedient. I know it’s hard. Simply walk away when you find yourself going dark.

And look at pictures of puppies.

Be well.

Comments welcome.

It may be that “getting even” with someone is something you’re plotting right now. “I’ll show them,” you say. “I’m gonna get them back. They will pay for what they’ve done.”

And so forth. We’re talking revenge here.

Problem is, getting even doesn’t serve any real purpose.

I grew up in a pretty cushy environment. I’m an only child. My parents were great. I was benignly spoiled. Mine was a loving family. There are some real plusses in growing up with Ward and June Cleaver.

I was a sensitive kid. That’s crossed over into me being a sensitive adult. I’m a true empath – not only do I know how you feel, I feel how you feel. That is for sure a blessing and a curse.

Back then that really strained my brain and played havoc with my heart and emotions. I spent a lot of energy trying to deal with all that. My tendency, then and now, is to quietly withdraw from negative situations and people. I just ain’t got what it takes to deal with those things for a prolonged period.

The byproduct of that would be a simmering desire to get even with someone who hurt me, or even more pronounced, getting even with someone who hurt someone else close to me.

On those dark days, I’d wonder – “Why me? Why can’t people be nice? Why don’t they just lay off?

Maybe you get this.

It might be that you’re the kind of person who feels it necessary to defend yourself, to put up a grim fight, to try to recover from wounds, or to figure out some kind of revenge – getting even, as it were.

I’m not going to judge you, but I do want you to acknowledge if this is true of you or not.

Getting even might give some bit of short-term gratification, but it won’t last, and you’ll probably feel worse after the fact. So let’s talk about some principles that might help you more than getting even would.

1. Don’t take it personally. It’s not you. It’s the other person with issues.

My former boss used to say “hurt people hurt people.” My stars, so much truth right there! When people are mean and unkind, those tendencies come from a wounded place. They are, as Mama would say, “acting out.” So hold onto this one. It’s the other person with the problems. You just happened to be the target of the moment.

2. God is sovereign, and He is in total control.

He is in charge. Whatever you are facing, whatever someone is doing to you or saying about you, is part of a grand strategy He is using to make you more like Him. You are His best project! You don’t have to like what someone is doing to you,  but there’s a plan in place. You may not be privy to it – you probably aren’t. The skill comes in learning how to evaluate things through His eyes. Having the mind of Christ, in other words.

3. The real enemy is Satan. He’s just using those people who are out to make you miserable.

It’s a matter of knowing your enemy. This is a sobering thought – that Satan could be using another human to “get” you. But, we also have to acknowledge that there are times when Satan uses us, too. There’s a pleasant thought! Here’s your smartest tactic, though: Pray for that person doing the attacking. They need Jesus whether they’re Christians or not. They need healing.

4. Keep your guard up.

That whole armor of God thing? You can read about it in Ephesians 6:10-18.

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

There is a real battle out there to be fought, and it’s not to be fought with someone getting even with you. Save your energy for the real deal.

5. “Vengeance is mine,” sayeth the Lord. You are not His instrument.

Let God deal with the offender. He will be just. He’ll handle things the way He sees fit. He doesn’t need your help or advice. If this is about getting even, and making someone pay, God will decide what they need to pay, if anything. Let Him be God.  Actually, He already is.

I don’t need to get even. Revenge is something that causes me to take my eyes off God and focus on myself and what I perceive my needs are.

I do need to say, however, that it’s right and appropriate to set some personal boundaries. You may need to get creative and think of ways to limit contact with them. But to focus on getting even, embracing bitterness, and plotting revenge is just wasted energy. It won’t help. God will handle things in a way that is right and what will bring glory to Himself. You are part of His plan. You are not the plan.

God promises to take care of the persecuted and judge those who are cruel. He’s good like that.

Be well. Comments are welcome!

What do you do when chaos comes?

These are turbulent times. It seems that just about when we approach some sense of normalcy, another crisis comes. When chaos comes, how do we best handle that?

Even when you’re following Jesus, disorder and confusion can invade your life. When chaos comes to visit, it’s helpful to know how not only to weather those times, but to prevail during them.

When chaos comes, look to the Authority.

Ancient script, as always, is our first stop. Take a look at Romans 12:12:

¹² Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

This one verse just cries out for three points, and they’re all good to help you stand fast when chaos comes.

Paul spells it out: be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer. What does that look like?

First of all, this is good sage wisdom for all times. No matter what circumstances you might find yourself in, these are some fine anchors.

It’s when chaos comes, though, that these commands take on real life.

Check it out. You are going to have to surrender to God your need to control things. Control freaks – hang with me, okay?

You can’t always control the circumstances of your life. And you can’t always calm the chaos of the world around you. But you can – always – trust that God is with you. And you can always trust that God loves you.

“Always” is a potent word. It’s one of those definitive, absolute words that leaves no room for doubt. Always means always. That’s good stuff right there.

It’s that always that gives you a reason to embrace hope, to wait for God’s deliverance, and to pray without ceasing.

Don’t forget – there is a coming deliverance. When chaos comes, God is right there, and He’ll get you through it.

What’s so cool is that God invites you to be still and know He’s got you. He knows what causes those sleepless nights. He understands when you so desperately want to turn your brain off and just rest. God will ultimately be exalted even in the middle of the worst of times.

Sometimes just acknowledging the unease and confusion you’re experiencing helps. Funny/not funny, but often the chaos you’re experiencing shows up physically. Know what I mean? Tension in your neck. Constricing headaches. Heart racing.

I don’t have much wisdom along those lines, but just knowing God is near is a big plus. It’s in stillness that you find that peace, and that peace will calm you and ease your tension and pain. It’s a matter of making that quiet time an absolute non-negotiable priority. It’s that safe place where the Holy Spirit can minister.

Part of the equation includes confession of sins. What does that have to do with when chaos comes?

Easy. If you’re unsettled internally because there’s a disconnect between you and God because of sin, it’ll manifest itself physically, emotionally, mentally – basically, in every way you live.

God is, of course, faithful and just. He forgives our sins and cleans us up.

Even when we experience all that disorder and confusion, you never need to fear the loss of God’s love. It’s more constant and steady than the ground you stand on.

Look back at that verse. What word or phrase stands out to you? Which one do you want to cling to?

Let’s make this really personal.

What’s one situation in your life that’s causing turmoil right now? (You may have several to choose from. I get that. Welcome to 2021, which is looking like a sequel to 2020.)

That’s what you want to talk to God about. Like, right now.

It’s hope that will bring you joy. When you have no hope, despair can reign. But when you tie hope to something real – to Christ – that hope will pull you out of despair and into joy.

That specific dark funk you’re facing right now? Allow true hope to pull you out of it.

A second way to manage when chaos comes is to be consistent in prayer. I don’t mean reciting a bunch of words to God, trying to string them together so that He’ll pay attention. I’m talking about a dialogue – you speaking and then waiting and listening for that answer.

Back up a little. Offer up to God one specific, crushing circumstance you’re in right now. Ask Him to give you wisdom in it. He promises wisdom if we’ll just ask for it. (And that’s been a tough one for me to grapple with.)  Tell God that you trust Him to be with you and that He’ll deliver you in His time. 

Chaos can fall like a sudden storm. Think about that. Clouds form. They curdle and mass around you. Then lighting, and thunder, and rain falls in torrents. You can’t even see the horizon. You’re cold and wet and far from home. You can’t see an end or any way out.

Enjoying my metaphor? Ack.

Then the wind picks up. and rain stings your face. You’re soaked. Everything is gray and fearsome and you feel alone. That’s what happens when chaos comes.

But you aren’t alone, are you? Read what Paul said again. God is there. Be patient in affliction.

Here’s a thought. What if the storm isn’t going anywhere? What if it’s here to stay? The water is rising. The roads are washing out. Even when the storm ends, there is going to be a big mess to clean up. Not everyone will survive it. (And if you’re thinking about last week’s ice storm, yep. Me too.)

There may be grief. But still – you ask God to help you wait on Him.

Even if nothing has changed, or even if the situation has grown worse (maybe the rain has changed to hail), know what?

You can’t stop the storm.

But you can pray. God may not stop the storm when you think He should. When you experience those runaway feelings, you can still find a stillness when you sense God’s nearness. You keep on praying.

Sometimes the forces of Darkness, the powers and principalities of this world seem so strong. There is so much I don’t understand, so much I can’t control. When chaos comes, I need to understand that chaos is just one more tool Satan has at his disposal.

And yet, God invites me to trust Him.

Be joyful. Be patient. Be faithful. It works every time. He promised.

Be well.