“And they all left him and fled.” – Mark 14:50 (ESV)

Jesus Knows Loneliness

Those disciples. They bailed on their Master and friend. This hits home for those of us who’ve faced loneliness or have felt like we let someone down.

Isn’t it comforting to know that Jesus Himself, the Savior of the world, understands what it’s like to be lonely? At the very moment when he could have used the support the most, everybody bolted. Imagine the heartbreak! Yet, He doesn’t wallow in that. Instead, He moves forward, carrying the weight of the world’s sins to the cross. There’s something so profoundly human about this experience of loneliness. I reckon that when you or I feel deserted, we’re in good company. Jesus has been there and He gets it. We’re not alone in our aloneness, if you catch my drift.

Your Faithfulness Matters

Those little things you do? They matter. They matter a lot, especially to a God who felt the sting of being left alone. You don’t have to go around changing water into wine to make a difference. Sometimes, it’s as simple as sitting beside someone who’s having a rough day or helping a neighbor with groceries. Every kind act is like a warm hug to Jesus, telling Him, “You’re not alone, and neither am I.” It’s a two-way street of comfort that’s both cosmic and intimate.

From Deserters to Disciples

Here’s where the message really kicks in. You know those guys who deserted Jesus? They ended up being the cornerstones of the Christian church! Peter, who denied Him not once but three times, became one of the great Apostles. Heck, he even got the keys to the Kingdom! God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.

Let’s face it, we’ve all had our “deserter” moments. Maybe it was a promise you couldn’t keep or a calling you ignored because you were too scared or didn’t think you were up to the task. But guess what? God still wants you. He wants to use you, flaws and all, for His incredible purposes.

The Power of “Losers”

You might personify those disciples as failures. Losers. I think that’s gold right there. God’s economy doesn’t operate like the world’s. The world applauds success, but God applauds faithfulness. The world seeks the spotlight, but God seeks the heart. In His eyes, a “loser” who is faithful is a true winner, equipped to heal and minister, just like those deserters-turned-disciples.

In the grand story of redemption, it’s not the mighty or the successful who take center stage. It’s the humble, the flawed, and yes, even the deserters, who become heroes in God’s narrative. They are the ones who are given the power to change lives and heal broken hearts.

So there you have it. We all falter, but in God’s eyes, that doesn’t disqualify us. If anything, it sets us up for a comeback, turning us into bearers of His hope, grace, and love. Just remember, you’re never alone on this journey.

Note from Tony: I had the opportunity to meet Meyah at the Mississippi Baptist State Speakers Tournament. The tourney is open to high school students, who are tasked with sharing a speech with judges. Winners of the tournament are awarded literally thousands of dollars in scholarships.

Meyah is a 12th grader from Petal, Mississippi. I was blown away by her speech, and I asked her if I could share her manuscript with you folks. This is a story and testimony you need to hear, and she was gracious enough to let me post it. 

Be blessed. I know I was.

If you were to take a look at me, what would be your first impressions? I’m tall so maybe you think I’m a basketball player, or you see how poofy my curls are. All the things you point out about me are my biggest insecurities. Put yourself in my shoes, for some that would be 20 or 30 years ago, and think about what fully consumed you. I am Meyah Doyle and I am totally consumed in my identity crisis. And I think that most people can probably relate.  I know that I am an athlete. I know that I am a daughter and a sister. I know that the color of my skin subconsciously sets me apart, but I know these things do not completely define who I am. So, I am constantly searching for something to validate my identity. That’s when I found Jesus, the one who I can confidently say thinks I’m enough and doesn’t need me to do anything to prove that I am worthy of Him.

As a mixed girl living in a predominantly white area for as long as I can remember, I’ve been faced with internal challenges that my friends cannot understand. Admittedly, I have consumed myself with finding ways I can fit in, like damaging my curly hair to get it bone straight. I struggle daily with thoughts that my white friends don’t think I’m white enough, and my black friends don’t think I’m black enough. But I’m reminded in Psalm 139:13-15 that my God knows I’m enough, that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made”.  God, the Creator of all things, made me exactly the way He wanted, with no error. The way I look is who I am meant to be. So it’s not if I’m black enough for some people or white enough for others, it’s the fact that I am black and I am white and I am enough.

To other people, I have always been known as “the tall girl who plays basketball,” that is who I am to them so, over time, I have just naturally found my identity in being an athlete. People say “I can’t wait to see you in the WNBA!”  I just laugh and carry on, knowing that if I tell them that’s not what I want to be then many surprised remarks will follow. I have been lost in this identity for years and have based my happiness on how well I’m doing in basketball, and this has truly damaged my mental health. I am more anxious and stressed now than I’ve ever been. In times of stress I find myself looking to what other people expect of me rather than basing my strength and confidence in Jesus. A writer for the company Athletes Unheard affirms, “It really comes down to self-awareness. It’s all about knowing who you are as an athlete, as a person and what will make you the happiest in the long run. Realizing where your self-worth lies and not tying it to one thing or attribute about yourself is the quickest path to true success.” I choose to realize my self worth lies in Jesus, not my accomplishments as an athlete or failed attempts at meeting expectations.

People on social media define me based on how pretty they think I am, how many followers and likes I have, or who my friends are. This reality led me to be totally consumed by what people see and think about me. Everything I do on social media is planned out in order to portray a perfect image of myself. For example, after a trip I took with my friends last year to the beach, it took me 3 days to post any pictures on Instagram because I critiqued every part of each picture and was so overwhelmed by what other people would think. The fear of what other people’s opinions heightened my body image issues and tore down my self confidence. According to Gary Goldfield, PhD, of Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario Research Institute, “Youth are spending, on average, between six to eight hours per day on screens, much of it on social media. Social media can expose users to hundreds or even thousands of images and photos every day, including those of celebrities and fashion or fitness models, which we know leads to an internalization of beauty ideals that are unattainable for almost everyone, resulting in greater dissatisfaction with body weight and shape.” Just as I spend days critiquing my own pictures to show the best of me, so do influencers, but Jesus looks past all of that. He sees all our faults and insecurities and still looks at our hearts with love despite what our bodies look like. Why should I show so much hate to myself to gain satisfaction from the people of this world?

Every day I battle with being consumed by something different. Through this, I have learned to be consumed with the Lord in order to win my battles. What other people critique of me on social media does not define who I am in the Lord. I’ve also learned to balance who I am as an athlete and as a child of God. It has not been easy, but I hope to model to my younger sisters how important it is to find their value in the Lord. I have come to terms with the identity that God is revealing to me each day, and my intention is to be fully consumed in Him.

I was called an idiot in the ninth grade by a man I had tons of respect for.

Today I would be known as a “band geek.” Back then, if it wasn’t band or church youth group stuff, I didn’t have a whole lot to do with it.

At Elba High School – home of the Marching Tigers! – band was actually considered cool. On Friday nights during football season, virtually the whole population of Elba, Alabama, could be found at the stadium. We were blessed with both a fine football team and band – champions all.

My band director back then was Bill Hickman. I swear, I would’ve taken a bullet for that man. He was a fine musician and master motivator. I had crazy respect for him. He seldom raised his voice – he just had that undefinable way of coaxing the best out of us.

We all loved marching season. Concert season, not so much. To transition from Friday nights under the lights to practice in the bandroom for concerts was tough.

I just enjoyed playing my horn (trombone, FYI). Note that I wasn’t great, or even all that good. Maybe I could have been if I’d practiced like I should’ve.

Still, I was competent enough. And, I wanted to please Mr. Hickman.

One afternoon we were rehearsing for our upcoming Christmas concert. We were practicing a sweet chorale arrangement of “Silent Night.” It was one of those occasions when the music flowed like soft waters. You could look at Mr. Hickman as he was conducting and tell that he was enraptured by the sounds he drew from us.

Until I screwed up.

In a moment of silence in between bars, when the whole arrangement called for a rest, I held over into that moment, dragging whatever note I was playing a beat too long. I was the only one playing my instrument … in a moment when I shouldn’t have been.  It was as obvious as if I’d set off a cherry bomb.

Without missing a beat, and while still conducting, Mr. Hickman looked at me and said “idiot.” It came out like this: ID-eee-ot. He continued on, looking back at his score.

No big deal, right? For some reason, though, that little three-second incident is as fresh in my mind as if it’d happened yesterday. Of course, I’m over whatever wound I received, but I still remember it. (Maybe I’m not completely over it or I wouldn’t be bringing it up.)

What’s your “idiot” moment? Can you think of a time when you screwed up and beat yourself senseless because of your failure? Of course you can.

So. How does one move on past failure – specifically, how can you not be so hard on yourself?

• Rather than be so self-critical, admit you blew it. Call it out. Writing it down might help get it out of your head and get it on paper so you can deal more effectively with it.
• Acknowledge that, in that moment, you were weak. Not helpless.
• Focus on the excellence that you DO have. Again, write this down (I’m the king of journaling. It simply works.) If you don’t think you aren’t excellent at anything, I’m here to tell you you’re so, so wrong. You are unique, one of a kind, which means you bring something to the world’s table that no one else has. You aren’t an idiot, at least most of the time.
• Remember no one of any consequence loves you any less because you fell short.
• Ask yourself: “What in my life is causing me to focus on what I think is wrong with me instead of what is right?” One awful byproduct of living in our broken world is that we gravitate toward the negative. Guess what: You are blessed. Say that aloud: “I am blessed.” Because, dang it, you ARE, and don’t let anyone or anything tell you differently.
• Etch this in mental stone: “You are what you think about.”
• Etch this in mental stone: “You are what you think about.” (I just wanted that to be clear.)
• I say this all the time, because it’s true: “Failure is an event, not a person.”
• Here’s the ringer. You can have hope. You aren’t an idiot. Because …
• “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.” That’s some ancient script from Philippians 4:8, and that’s a good word no matter what your beliefs. Because – drum roll – you are what you think about.

Hope this encouraged you. And I don’t think Mr. Hickman really thought I was an idiot. Well … maybe for one beat or so. I’m sure he never gave it another thought. Nor should I.

“Look all the world over, there’s no one like me!” Keep reading, and I’ll share five ways you can know that to be so.

Do you know that little song? It’s true, y’know.

There’s no one like you. Never has been. Never will be.

It’s not just genetics, either. You are a combination of where you were born, the time period you showed up, and a whole host of other environmental factors.

I grew up thinking about this. I’ve always been aware of a sense of “otherness,” of knowing I was totally and utterly unique. I didn’t think I was easily categorized. I see that as a virtue. But it also brought about a sense of displacement, of not really fitting in anywhere.

Are you weird? Messed up?

Before you accuse me of having a pity party and being too self-absorbed (Me? NEVER!), understand that’s not my intent. I’ve embraced my individuality. I’d encourage you to do the same thing.

There’s no one like you. You can save yourself a lot of frustration if you can internalize the fact that you’re “fearfully and wonderfully made.” It’s a good, good thing.

You are different.

So if you are willing to admit that, yeah, I’m different, how can you leverage that knowledge to your advantage? How can knowing there’s no one like you be a huge advantage and a blessing to others?

Let’s break this down. I think you’ll like this. I have five thoughts that will (a) give you a reason why being so stinkin’ unique is a benefit, and (b) how knowing your uniqueness can be a source of hope and transformational encouragement. Let’s see if we can unlock some potential here.

Remember – there’s no one like you.

1. Think about the things in your life you’d like to do. Maybe a bucket list. But go beyond sky diving, or visiting the pyramids. What contribution to the world might you make? Don’t blow this off as sounding too ethereal or rah-rah motivational. If you had no fear of failure, what would you do? Don’t limit yourself. Do some blue-sky thinking. Maybe you could jot down what you came up with.

2. Are you ever handicapped by wondering what other people think of you? That’s pretty common, but I’d note that the older you get, the less of an issue that’s going to be. I had a lady tell me that she was always careful to make sure all her beds  were made up – which certainly isn’t a bad thing – but her motivation was that if the house caught on fire, she didn’t want the firemen thinking she was a poor housekeeper. Okay, then. My unexpressed thought was that an unmade bed would be the last thing a fireman, and a stranger to boot, would give any thought to.

Ponder this.

So the question for you is “If the approval or opinion of others didn’t bother you, what would you do?” That’s a big deal. I’m thinking about a kid who was groomed to join his dad in his law practice. This young man finally had to break it to his dad – who was going to pay for law school – that he had no desire to practice law. He wanted to design and build furniture. Again – if you didn’t care what others thought, what would you do? I’m not just talking about vocation, either.

3. This next one has to do with self-awareness and self-appraisal. Keeping it real, in other words. What positive qualities do you have that you like? You won’t have to share this with the class, so you can be honest. There are things about yourself that, if you’re honest, make you say, “Dang. That’s good.” This isn’t bragging. False humility won’t serve you. You do have positive qualities. I guarantee it. It doesn’t hurt to say to yourself, “I like myself, and here’s why” from time to time.

4. Conversely, what negative qualities do you wish you didn’t have? This list might come easier than the previous one. We can be so insanely hard on ourselves, but that’s not what this is about. Rather, it’s realistically evaluating what needs work. There’s no one like you, sure, but your negative qualities are shared with plenty of other folks. Want to be done with your negative qualities? Don’t fret. You can choose to do better. Identify them, and if they grow out of some actions or habits you have, stop doing them. Work on yourself – consider this “Project Me.” Change, and the world will change for you. Identify your negative qualities, but don’t marinate in them.

5. And this: If you eavesdropped on people talking about you, what do you hope you’d hear? This is a telling exercise. This is not, not, not about changing yourself to please others. It’s a matter of being authentic, and knowing your authenticity is honorable. Be real. Be virtuous. You’ll stand out, and in the best possible way. You’ll be part of a noble minority. There are plenty of posers and phonies out there, and they’re easy to spot. Don’t be like that. You want people to think highly of you, but you don’t want to have to pretend. Be like Popeye – “I yam what I yam.”

There’s no one like you. That should be the best news you get today.

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Personal thought: If you are a person of faith, I would appreciate your prayers. I’ve been plagued with kidney stones most of my adult life. I just turned up with a monster, about 9mm, which is too big to pass on my own. So Oct. 24, Thursday, I’ll be having an outpatient “procedure,” a lithotripsy, to bust that thing up so that I can pass it. I’ve had this done before, and it’s not very pleasant, but it’s tolerable and certainly better than any alternatives. This blog was written earlier just because I knew I’d be out of commission a couple of days. Thanks.

There are some people who live their entire lives living for the approval of others. Call it chronic people-pleasing.

I know of a woman who wouldn’t dare leave the house without all the beds being made up. That is not a bad thing – actually, it’s pretty virtuous. There’s a really fine book titled Make Your Bed: Little Things That Can Change Your Life …And Maybe the World that deals with this very thing. Highly recommended.

Here, though, was her motivation, her thinking: “If the house caught on fire, I don’t want the firemen thinking that I’m a slob.” She was serious.

Well okay then. She let the opinions of complete strangers dictate her behavior. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the firemen probably wouldn’t inspect her beds if the house were burning.

I can, in the abstract, understand her feelings.

My tendency, historically, has been to be a people-pleaser. I want people to like me. When someone says, “I don’t care what other people think,” I think to myself, “Gee, what a nice protective fort you’ve built for yourself.” I can’t relate to that; I do care what people think. Part of that is testimonial – I want folks to look at me and see God at work rather than pathetic ol’ Tony who ain’t all that.

So I’d be lying if I said that my behavior hasn’t at times been dictated by other people’s opinion of me. Living for the approval of of others? I get that.

Here’s where it gets complex.

Some people aren’t going to like you. Ever.

That, for me personally, is inconceivable. I can’t imagine anyone not liking me once they got to know me. I know that the first impression I give isn’t always the best – that’s an introvert thing, not jumping right in all cheerful and engaging. It takes me a minute. (I’ve learned some skills to compensate for that, but if you’ve never met me and I come across as all gregarious and approachable, just know that I’ve worked really, really hard to be able to do that. It doesn’t come naturally.)

Still, because I do easily show genuine interest in others, and do care deeply that people have good lives, get along, have plans that succeed, I don’t know why anyone would not want me around.

Shocker – some folks don’t like me. I don’t think there are that many, but in my mind, one is too many.

Some people don’t like you either, so don’t be getting all high and mighty on me.

How does that manifest itself, and what does that have to do with living for the approval of others?

You become others’ puppet if you aren’t careful, jerked along on invisible strings. There are some people who’ve made up their minds about you, and there really isn’t anything you can do to change their opinions, try as you might.

So why try? Seriously.

Conventional wisdom (by way of Polonius – Hamlet – Wm. Shakespeare) says, “This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.” That’s good counsel, and difficult to take for many of us. (I’ll share even better counsel in a minute.)

I put a high premium on being authentic. But I do adjust my attitude and behavior sometimes based on who I’m with.

Here’s what happens. You can keep the course of y0ur own life, not veering to the right or to the left. Or you can be a chameleon, changing to fit the social environment.

It doesn’t matter. People will form opinions of you no matter what you do, and you can’t force that. You will be judged, sometimes unfairly or inaccurately.

One day, perhaps, people who know you now (or think they know you now) will look back and realize they were wrong. They will see they should have given you a chance. That’s good. It won’t undo what happened in the past, but it’s still good.

In the here and now, though, guard yourself. Don’t do things intended to prove others wrong about you. It’ll exhaust you, trying to change people’s opinions of you. Be steadfast – it’ll save you some confusion. You don’t want to forget who you really are.

Here’s my best counsel (with all due respect to Polonius):

Do what you do for the Lord. Don’t be living for the approval of others. Actually, don’t even do it for yourself. You’re harder to please than anyone else.

Let me be clear: Do what you do for the Lord. He’s the One who has been here all along.

Take a moment. Sit back.

Are you a perfectionist? A control freak? Do you always want to have things your own way? And when things you do aren’t perfect; when things you want to control won’t cooperate; and when things don’t go your way, do you blame yourself?

If this isn’t you, you can close this blog and wait until the next one shows up.

But if it is you, this might be a good one to pay some attention to.

I wouldn’t classify myself as a perfectionist. More than once in my life I’ve said “That’s good enough,” and moved on. I guess I’m selective; some things have to be right or else I’ll tailspin into an OCD pit. I like a neat and orderly desk, for instance. Mostly, though, I can be okay with decent enough.

Control freak? That’s not me, either. If you want to refer to my last blog, you’ll know where I’m coming from. There is just a whole lot in my world that I can’t do anything about, and I don’t let those things occupy valuable mindspace. Now, the things I can do something about and don’t, perhaps that’s a different issue. Maybe it depends on whether they’re a genuine big deal or not. Most of the time they aren’t.

Wanting things to go my own way? Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t? Of course, that sentiment is predicated by the reality that my own way may not be the right way, or the wise way, or God’s way. Perhaps, then, I don’t need to have things go my way. See how that works?

Let me take you a little deeper with this.

When I say “hard on yourself,” the points I stated above would be typical traits of a lot of people. That’s not exactly where I’m going.

Consider this, and it’s up close and personal.

I want you to marvel at your life. It really has been something, hasn’t it? It hasn’t been ordinary in the least. It’s been special. Amazing.

It may be that you find that you are unreasonably hard on yourself because of some choices you’ve made, things you’ve said, or attitudes you’ve held that have caused you personal hurt. It’s things you can’t undo or take back. It’s experiences you’ve had that may have scarred you. You want to know why things unfolded the way they did. You wonder why you keep repeating the same harmful patterns.

Be hopeful, friend. This isn’t the end. Think about your life experiences. And those life experiences aren’t always just about us.

• There is the grief that softened you. I don’t know how old you are, but I’d wager that at whatever age you find yourself you’ve experienced grief. Primarily, our thought about grief is that we experience it after the death of a loved one. That is a legitimate cause of grief. Even among believers, we miss those we care about. Grief can come in other packages, too – grief over the loss of a job, of a friend, of a relationship, over any number of other things. Grief should make our hearts more tender. We should be more in tune with ourselves as we grieve. Not discounting our raw emotion, grief should make us more aware of people hurting around us. And, we should not waste our grief. We should be open to reaching out to others in the same place because of how we’ve experienced grief.  Don’t be hard on yourself because you’re grieving. It is part – a necessary part – of the human condition.
• There is the heartache that wisened you. I’m trying not to go all negative here, but heartache is also part of everyone’s life experience. We look at heartache as an unwelcome visitor to our happy lives. We think it is a fluke of sorts – I mean, isn’t heartache wrong? Aren’t we entitled to pain-free days? Uh … nope. We aren’t entitled to anything of the sort. The upside here is that heartache can and should make us very, very wise. Again, it’s a matter of understanding why our hearts hurt and using the knowledge gained from that hurt to give us wisdom. This isn’t a matter of being smart. Lots of folks are smart. There may just be a handful of people who are genuinely wise. I want that for me. And, I understand that those life experiences in which my soul is crushed are what take me to a place of true wisdom.
• There is the suffering that strengthens you. I don’t know how you define suffering for yourself personally. We talk about “first world problems,” like having your cell phone go dead without a charger handy. That’s not really suffering, now is it? Most of us don’t suffer because of a lack of food or shelter or clothing. In the grand scheme of things, we typically don’t really suffer because of external events. (There are natural disasters like floods and fires, and certainly they move you into a place beyond simple discomfort. Maybe we could consider that seasonal suffering … you know it’s a state you won’t be in forever.) We can talk, though, about physical suffering, or mental or emotional suffering/anguish. That’s real stuff. It can be awful. But as in the previous two points, there is a beautiful positive in suffering, and that is that suffering strengthens us. I’d contend that our experiences in life, especially the awful ones, prepare and strengthen us for what’s coming up next … because you can bet you’ll face suffering of a different magnitude at times in your life. Suffering might just come in proportion to how we’ve dealt with it in the past. Every step prepares us for the next one.

(I am compelled to put in one unpopular note here, per Oswald Chambers … I return to this philosophy of his over and over again. Don’t be too quick to try to make things easier for someone who is going through a challenging time, especially spiritually. God is refining  him or her. Chambers warns about us being an “amateur Providence” in another’s life. Let them struggle and turn wholly to God. I pray that people be spared any unnecessary hurt … but I do believe some hurt is necessary. Having worked with teenagers for decades, I still cringe when I see well-meaning mamas swoop in and try to fix things for their kids so their lives will be “easier.” That’s all I’ll say about that.)

Let me land this plane. Ready?

Despite everything, you still grow.

Nothing should slow or stop your progress. “I give up” is a phrase to drop from our vocabularies. When you say “I give up,” what you’re actually saying is, “There’s no need to go on.” Is is really ever that bad?

It is not, at least not for the believer. I am not talking about coming to a place where there is nothing else to be done. I spoke a few days ago about saying “we done” in relationships. That is not giving up. It is a realistic assessment of a situation and knowing that you’ve done what honor has demanded, and it’s out of your hands.

What I want us to see is that giving up is just being hard on yourself because you feel inadequate. You think you aren’t learning anything or making progress.

Don’t factor God out of the equation. You don’t have the last word. He does. This is not a bad thing.

Once more – despite everything, you still grow.

That’s grace. Amazing grace.

Some folks are perfectly content with routine. Some folks find routine stifling.

My seminary roomie, Tommy Phelps, cracked me up when talking about this. We shared the same part-time job – we drove school buses for the Fort Worth Independent School District.

This was Tommy’s litany: “Get up. Go to the bus barn. Pick up the bus. Pick up the kids. Take them to school. Go to school. Pick up the bus. Pick up the kids. Take them home. Go home. Eat and study. Go to bed. Get up. Go to the bus barn. Pick up the bus…”

You get the picture. Our lives can be like laying pipe, or working as a short order cook – lather, rinse, repeat.

This isn’t awful, mind you. But is there more to all this than just doing routine tasks? Are we missing something?

Here’s where I think the temptation comes. I think that often, Satan tempts us to be ordinary. We aren’t awful people. We don’t embrace heinous sins. We are middle-of-the-packers. Good, moral people, churchgoing people, and in the grand cosmic scheme of things, we are honorable Christians. But Satan wants to persuade you that you’re nothing special. He’s really good at that.

And we are barren. We think – “is this IT?” It’s not that we seek earthly acclaim. We like being appreciated, but that doesn’t drive us. We just want to feel, I dunno, significant. Not just ordinary.

This got me to thinking about any number of biblical personalities. Many times, they were ordinary folks caught up in extraordinary circumstance. Or, more tellingly, they found themselves in God’s hands. They were made to be significant.

Take the twelve disciples. If I were Jesus, and I was going to select men who would ultimately be responsible for seeing that this fledgling faith not only survived but flourished – I don’t this would have been the group I’d go with. I would have scoured the Chamber of Commerce literature, found myself the best and brightest, and begun recruiting. I’d go after professional people, people with drive and ambition, people who were blue-chip prospects. I’d want sharp people.

Jesus did no such thing. After an evening of prayer (key point, that), he went after the most unlikely of candidates. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Commoners. And He didn’t have a job description drawn up for each of them. His recruiting speech was pretty basic: “Follow me.” 

Doggoned if they didn’t respond to that simple summons. They followed, without trying to straighten themselves out first. They could have remained in their familiar surroundings and predictable jobs. Instead, they left everything behind – jobs, homes, family, friends. Jesus called twelve, graduated eleven, and those knuckleheads turned the world upside down.

Don’t miss this. How like us. In the middle of our routines, when we go about our daily affairs with familiar people, God still reaches out to us. He wants to train us, equip us, change our attitudes, and renovate our souls.

You may think you’re overlooked by everyone else, but you are handpicked by God. You are building a legacy. It may not make you any more significant in the eyes of the world than a potted plant, but you are shaping the kingdom of God.

I sure hope that helps you see your routines in a whole different light. Ancient script from 1 Corinthians 15:58 (NLT) is timely:

“So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.”

Feel special. Because you are.

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What makes a person great?

Conventional wisdom would hold that some people just get the breaks we mere mortals don’t. It’s a combination of inborn talent, faster firing synapses, genetic blessings, right time/right place, etc. You either got it or you don’t.

So we buy personal development books. We listen to audio programs that help us develop a positive mental attitude. We set goals. We discipline ourselves.

And we end up right back where we were. Know what I mean?

Baloney. Don’t buy any of this. Say this with me: “I am destined for greatness.”

I don’t want to come across as some sort of rah-rah cheerleader here … I hope you’ve read enough of my musings to know that’s not how I roll.

But here’s a little revelation for you. You are capable of greatness. It is in you. I am not kidding. This isn’t some false promise.

Here’s what’s happened. The reason you find it hard to believe that you are capable of great things is because the Enemy has made sure that you’ve had plenty of attacks. You’ve had setbacks. You’ve experienced pain. You have had more than your share of failures.

The result is that you question yourself. Worse, you compare yourself to others who seem to have so much more on the ball than you do. They seem to float above life’s problems.

The dirty little secret is that they are probably just as riddled with doubt and uncertainty as you. They just don’t put it on Instagram.

One of the devil’s great deceptions is to convince you that you’re ordinary. I return to this theme a lot, because not many of us are truly “bad” in the conventional sense. Yes, we’re sinners, but we probably aren’t filled with malice or hate toward others. We don’t like to think we’d purposefully hurt anyone.

Satan is full of malice and hate. He wants to hurt and destroy. And to the extent that he can convince us to question ourselves, he knows he’s taken us out of the redemptive fight.

The strategy, then, is for us to focus on the battle God wants to win IN us more than the battle we want Him to win FOR us.

You are called to greatness. It’s spelled out in black and white for us: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I swear, if we could get past knowing that verse so intimately and realize the power and passion in it, this whole discussion would be moot. If doing all things through Christ who strengthens you isn’t evidence of greatness, I don’t know what is. And this isn’t a “greatness” as the world might measure greatness … this verse could be a reality in your life and you still spend your earthly days in obscurity. That’s not what this is about. It’s about peace, and security, and knowing that, dang it, you are NOT ordinary. You, by God’s grace, are great in the Kingdom.

So get ready. Destiny winds are blowing over your life.

What is success, anyway? Volumes have been written on this,
and the definition of success is oh-so subjective. Your success criteria and
mine might be in two different places.

Still, I’d like to tackle this one. As always, this is the
gospel according to Tony, and you might think you know better. That’s entirely
possible, and I’m at peace with you about that.

Foundationally, I’d say that unless you think you’re a
success it doesn’t matter what the world thinks of you. For instance, you can
be a gazillionaire and the world thinks you’re amazing. Yet your soul is barren
and your relationships are wretched. See what I mean? Success has to be an
internal thing if it’s to have any meaning to you. I love this quote from
Thoreau: “A man is rich in the proportion of things he can let alone.” So as we
ponder success, remember that I ain’t necessarily talking about finances.
(Although, I’d say that anyone who says that money isn’t important will lie
about other things, too.)

So what are some factors to consider?

1. Purpose.
   I’m all about goals – goal setting and goal achieving. Maybe one day I’ll post
   a bibliography of helpful books and resources. In the meantime, just latch onto
   this: You’re always moving toward some kind of goal, either by purpose or default.
   Live will mean something if you’re going somewhere purposeful and of your
   choosing. Habakkuk 2:3 says, “For still
   the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end – it will not lie.
   If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.”

• Consistency.
  If you’re remotely aware of how baseball works, you know that a batting average
  of .500 is pretty much a walk-on-water statistic. That means that half the time
  you’re batting, you get a hit, and, conversely, you miss just as many. Stated
  differently, you fail just as much as you succeed. If you’re successful, then
  count on having plenty of moments of failure. Wrap your head around this:
  you’re gonna screw up. But rather than burning energy worrying about what you
  did or didn’t do, how about using that energy on learning from what happened,
  sucking out whatever lessons you can, and moving on? It’s a matter of being
  consistent and not beating yourself up. Perseverance, in other words. How about
  this? “For the righteous falls seven times
  seven times and rises again, but the wicked stumble in times of calamity.” –
  Proverbs 24:16.

• Cost.
  Hey, guess what. There is no success for free. There are no shortcuts or
  work-arounds. I mean, what good is there in being successful if there wasn’t
  real effort to achieve it? It’s that old thing about how lottery winners tend
  to squander their gains because they didn’t have to work to get them. It needs
  to be hard, and God help us and others in our culture of entitlement. No one
  owes you squat. I can’t cite where I heard this, but I recall that a Steinway
  concert grand piano has 243 strings that exert a pull of 40,000 pounds on an
  iron frame. Music comes from tension, in other words. Isn’t that good? “Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans
  will be established.” – Proverbs 16:3.

• Being
  pleased. This isn’t an original thought with me, but … success may be won
  with tears but it must be crowned with laughter. Hey, if success doesn’t please
  you and give you satisfaction, then it really isn’t success, now is it?
  Ultimately, you are the only one who can know what gives you pleasure in
  accomplishment. You sort of have to not give a rip about what anyone else
  thinks. If you’re pleased, poop on ‘em. What do they know? So be satisfied and
  don’t apologize. That means … you may be an abject failure in the eyes of the
  world, but if you’re content because you’ve reached a meaningful personal goal,
  good for you. Psalm 37:4 is a good one here: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”
  Note it’s YOUR heart and no one else’s!

• Spiritual
  faith. All this talk of success ultimately has to be grounded in belief. We
  Americans have been taught to be individualistic, to pull ourselves up by our
  own bootstraps, be self-made men or women, ad infinitum. As a Christian,
  however, I yield to the connectedness that comes from being part of a purpose
  bigger than myself. In my naïve worldview, I just can’t see how I could feel
  successful without acknowledging the Author of my purpose. This, it seems, is
  the great leveler. Someone might be a successful yard man and another be a
  successful oil company executive. Both of these can be honorable positions in
  life, provided that those individuals feel that they’re successful in what they
  do, although they are separated by a huge financial gulf. But their spiritual
  faith – faith in God – could be exactly the same and just as meaningful. Different
  thread, common tapestry! The key, I suppose, is to courageously be yourself.

I’ll start by going all the way back to the ninth grade.

Today I would be known as a “band geek.” Back then, if it
wasn’t band or church youth group stuff, I didn’t have a whole lot to do with
it.

At Elba High School – home of the Marching Tigers! – band
was actually considered cool. On Friday nights during football season,
virtually the whole population of Elba, Alabama, could be found at the stadium.
We were blessed with both a fine football team and band – champions all.

My band director back then was Bill Hickman. I swear, I
would’ve taken a bullet for that man. He was a fine musician and master
motivator. I had crazy respect for him. He seldom raised his voice – he just
had that undefinable way of coaxing the best out of us.

We all loved marching season. Concert season, not so much.
To transition from Friday nights under the lights to practice in the bandroom
for concerts was tough.

I just enjoyed playing my horn (trombone, FYI). I wasn’t
great, or even all that good. I could have been if I’d practiced like I
should’ve.

Still, I was competent enough. And, I wanted to please Mr.
Hickman.

One afternoon we were rehearsing for our upcoming Christmas
concert. We were practicing a sweet chorale arrangement of “Silent Night.” It
was one of those occasions when the music flowed like soft waters. You could
look at Mr. Hickman as he was conducting and tell that he was enraptured by the
sounds he drew from us.

Until I screwed up.

In a moment of silence in between bars, when the whole
arrangement called for a rest, I held over into that moment, dragging whatever note
I was playing a beat too long. I was the only one playing my instrument … in a
moment when I shouldn’t have been.  It
was as obvious as if I’d set off a cherry bomb.

Without missing a beat, and while still conducting, Mr.
Hickman looked at me and said “idiot.” It came out like this: ID-eee-ot. He
continued on, looking back at his score.

No big deal, right? For some reason, though, that little
three-second incident is as fresh in my mind as if it’d happened yesterday. Of
course, I’m over whatever wound I received, but I still remember it. (Maybe I’m
not completely over it or I wouldn’t be bringing it up.)

What’s your “idiot” moment? Can you think of a time when you
screwed up and beat yourself senseless because of your failure? Of course you
can.

So. How does one move on past failure – specifically, how
can you not be so hard on yourself?

• Rather than be so self-critical, admit you blew
  it. Call it out. Writing it down might help get it out of your head and get it
  on paper so you can deal more effectively with it.
• Acknowledge that, in that moment, you were weak.
  Not helpless.
• Focus on the excellence that you DO have. Again,
  write this down (I’m the king of journaling. It simply works.) If you don’t
  think you aren’t excellent at anything, I’m here to tell you you’re so, so
  wrong. You are unique, one of a kind, which means you bring something to the
  world’s table that no one else has.
• Remember no one of any consequence loves you any
  less because you fell short.
• Ask yourself: “What in my life is causing me to
  focus on what I think is wrong with me instead of what is right?” One awful
  byproduct of living in our broken world is that we gravitate toward the
  negative. Guess what: You are blessed. Say that aloud: “I am blessed.” Because,
  dang it, you ARE, and don’t let anyone or anything tell you differently.
• Etch this in mental stone: “You are what you
  think about.”
• Etch this in mental stone: “You are what you
  think about.” (I just wanted that to be clear.)
• I say this all the time, because it’s true: “Failure
  is an event, not a person.”
• Here’s the ringer. You can have hope. Because …
• “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.” That’s some ancient script from Philippians 4:8, and
  that’s a good word no matter what your beliefs. Because – drum roll – you are
  what you think about.

Hope this encouraged you. And I don’t think Mr. Hickman really
thought I was an idiot. Well … maybe for one beat or so. I’m sure he never gave
it another thought. Nor should I.

This quote below from Thomas Edison always annoys me. Yeah, it’s something he said and believed, but I can’t honestly say with conviction “I have not failed.” It sure feels like I have, and I don’t have a light bulb to show for it.

See the title of this post? I wish I’d said that. That’s actually a quote from the great Zig Ziglar – he has had an enormous impact on my life, and his organization, helmed by his son Tom, is blowing and going.

This is a hard concept for me to internalize. I beat myself up. Constantly. Because I’ve failed often, and occasionally failed big.

Here’s an example. Some years ago I left local church ministry to serve with a parachurch ministry in Metro Atlanta. This was a dream job for me. Reach Out Ministries was founded by Dr. Barry St. Clair, one of our patron saints in student ministry. He and his organization defined how I worked with teenagers in the local church. They brought me on as “resource specialist,” which means I helped develop our training and curriculum materials, as well as our equipping magazine. I also got to do consulting, work with churches searching for a student minister, help facilitate our conferences and retreats … it was a gift to serve there, playing to all my strengths and passions. Plus, I was still able to work with teenagers hands-on. Heck yeah.

There was one tiny problem, though. I was broke.

I was responsible for raising my own support. Which means I had to contact virtually every family and individual I knew and say, in effect, “Hey, would you send me $30 or more a month for the rest of your natural life so I can keep the lights on in our house?”

I was beyond lousy at this. For one thing, I was so paralyzed with fear at phoning people, setting up appointments, and trying to “close the sale” that it made me physically sick. The underlying sense was, “Hey, Tony – why don’t THEY pay you? You’re writing stuff – it’s not like you’re serving in some third world country, or surrounded by Muslims.” (I actually had someone say that to me. I crossed them off my Christmas card list.)

So I groveled along, getting some commitments here and there, but I basically never met my goals. “They” said that if you’re passionate about your calling, your ability to fundraise will come naturally. Passion I had. But the fundraising was excruciating, and I think people sensed that.

The upside was that we didn’t starve. About the worst that happened is that we had our electricity turned off. And we did have a good life and time of service with Reach Out, even though I felt like we lived with a wolf outside the door. Teresa had a good job, and that was a blessing.

Ultimately I went back to local church ministry. I had failed at raising support.

Still with me? Here’s why I share this tale of woe (and on reflection, in the grand cosmic scheme of things, it wasn’t such a big deal.)

It’s because you’ve been there. You’ve failed at something – a school assignment, a job, or a relationship. Your heart’s been broken. You’ve been crushed. You’ve wondered “what’s wrong with me? Is this how I’m to live my life – as a loser?”

So what’s a recovering failure to do? Here’s my counsel, the points in no particular order (and, dang it, some days I wish I could better listen to myself):

• A failure is an event in time. It is not you.
• Everyone fails and makes mistakes. Why do you think pencils have erasers?
• If you fail once, that’s soooo natural. But, if under the same circumstances you fail again, that is a choice. Dude, you’d better learn to make wiser decisions.
• Bust out your journal or some paper. Write out the event. Write out what happened, what the result was, and how it impacted you and others.
• Write down what you would do differently, given the same circumstances.
• Learn from this and move the heck on. You can’t take it back. You can’t drive a car looking in the rear-view mirror.
• Remember – you can have hope. You are not stuck. You are responsible for your choices, and bad choices bring predictable outcomes. But the “way you are” is not the way you have to remain.
• Finally – if you’re a believer, God’s got this. He has a way of dealing redemptively with us, always. Embrace that. Scripture is absolutely full of stories of men and women who failed spectacularly and yet made indelible impact on their world – that’s why we have their stories. Take comfort in knowing you’ll never walk alone.

I guess I’m perceived to be superhuman … or something.

My blog’s name is “You can have hope.” I am asked fairly frequently why I came up with that name, as though it was revealed to me from On High from some heavenly chorus.

Naah.

I’ve unpacked this in a previous post – how I perceive that there is a pervasive sense of hopelessness in our world, and how it can overtake even the strongest among us. Perhaps this is a non-issue for you. If that’s true, I need to intern under you.

See that opening line – the “I don’t know how you do it” one? I get that a lot. People that know me well and have walked with me for the last several months have watched me careen from one trial to another. (This is not a whine. Don’t hear it that way.) No – there have been just a series of unfortunate events. You know – stuff like surgeries, and cancer, and home flooding and – the biggie – a brain injury. Other issues, too.

But. My story is your story, right? You’ve faced trials. Challenges have piled up like trash in your living room. So there’s nothing unique here.

Perhaps I’ve given the impression that because of my faith, I’ve prevailed. That is absolutely true. God sustains me. Honestly, though, at no point have I ever thought things were hopeless. Tough, for sure. Even awful on bad days. The thing about the brain damage is that not only do I have good days and bad days, I can have good hours and bad hours. Most of the time I’m brilliant. Other times I’m a stupid as a sack of bricks.

It’s all been life-altering. But to address the question of “how can you do it?”, I have to admit that I’m not really “doing” anything. I’m just “being.” Let me explain.

Our Western culture encourages us to be men and women of action. We have to act decisively and in a timely fashion. We’re encouraged to DO something, even if it’s wrong. If we don’t, then we are cowardly, lazy, apathetic, indecisive, all that. The world little notes the timid, right?

This is NOT about being any of those things. This is about positioning yourself to be ABLE to do those things. Yes, we need to be decisive, courageous, and doers. But that’s actually the second step.

If I seem to be doing well “under the circumstances” (and who’d want to be under those things in the first place?), it’s either because I’m faking it (full disclosure – there have been plenty of times when I’ve tried to look better than I actually am, but I’m lousy at it.) Or it’s because I’ve taken the time to be quiet and still and receive assurance from God that it’s gonna be okay. Maybe not easy. There may be real suffering involved. But He’s got it, and me. There’s never been a nanosecond when I’ve had to be alone. I haven’t had to “do” anything.

I don’t know if that encourages you. It should. My point – and it’s a good one, so keep reading – is that if you are living in a state of perpetual meltdown, it doesn’t have to be that way. Nothing you are facing is unique to you. If you were to say to me, “Dang, Tony, you just don’t understand,” then I’d have to agree with you.

So I won’t offer any platitudes. You’re hurting, and flirting with hopelessness. I’m hurting, but hopelessness is not an option. I mean – why should I be hopeless? Something is going on in my life – it’s another curve in the road, or a glimpse at a far horizon I hadn’t seen before. I don’t see what’s ahead, and I can make myself crazy trying to figure it all out.

I’m not superhuman, and I don’t have any particular virtues. Yes, I get down. Heck, my lows are so low that it takes lift trucks to get me out of them. So – regarding my challenges:

There’s nothing I can do. And that’s the beauty of it. I don’t have to. In Christ, it’s already been done for me. I am content in being His.