Waiting is hard work. Right now, I’m waiting to emerge from a food coma from yesterday. Happy day after Thanksgiving, y’all!

I’ll be brief today.

No one should know me better than me, right?

I mean, I’ve lived with myself for 64 years. Have mercy.

Lately, though, in those rare lucid moments of self-awareness, I’ve been struck with realizing just how little I do know. Do you ever surprise yourself by your own thoughts or actions? Do you wonder, dang, where did that come from? Part of that surprise might also include being overcome with unexpected feelings.

This isn’t to say that you are at the whim of your emotions, It might mean, though, that your emotions are gripping you, and not in a good way. Especially when they cloud your judgment, or cause you to behave in a way that feels alien to you. I’ll wager that this is nothing new. Few of us are totally stoic. Waiting is hard work, and waiting on your emotions to settle is especially challenging.

Our decisions are made with a combination of logic and feelings. Neither is bad, in and of itself.

It’s just when we get out of balance that we have problems. Or, perhaps we act on bad information, or our gut feeling misleads us horribly. When that happens – and it will – our tendency is to think we failed. Failed at a decision, failed at an attitude, or maybe even failed at life (as in, “I’m a failure,” which is totally bogus. As Zig Ziglar said, “Failure is an event, not a person.”)

So you find yourself treading water, waiting for something. Waiting is hard work. You just want some direction, some relief.

Fortunately, God knows the exact place where you are in life. He understands intimately what you are going through. That may be a hard truth to internalize, but that’s where faith comes in. He not only knows what you’re going through, but he understands why you’re going through it. He blesses you with patience, love, and stamina to handle everything coming your way.

Your job is to stand fast. You don’t have to really do anything.

You may have to wait to see what he’s up to, but that’s part of the package. Make no mistake – waiting is hard work. He doesn’t expect you to know “how” you’re going to get through whatever it is you’re facing, even if you’d classify it as pain and suffering. The best counsel I’ve heard is to just keep moving in the direction that seems best to you. Do the next right thing.

Wherever you go, God’s there. If it doesn’t feel like it’s over, it’s not.

I love having guest bloggers grace You Can Have Hope! I’ve been reading Amy’s stuff for a while now, and think what she has to say is sweetly wonderful. I heartily recommend her to you all.

Amy Carroll is a speaker and writer for Proverbs 31 Ministries. She’s the author of Breaking Up with Perfect and Exhale as well as the director and coach of Next Step Coaching Services.  As a woman who loves a great story and a challenging idea, co-hosting the Grit ‘n’ Grace podcast has become one of her favorite things.

Amy and her husband live in lovely Holly Springs, NC where you can find her on any given day texting her adult kids, typing away at her computer, or trying to figure out one more alternative to cooking dinner.  Join Amy at amycarroll.org where she’s gathering tender hearts and strong voices, or find out more about her speaker coaching services at nextstepcoachingservices.com.

The longer I read the shorter my breath grew, and I felt the heat of stress radiating from my constricted heart. “At my house, the bustle stops when we gather with our daughters to trim the tree,” Gayle Butler, editor of Better Homes and Gardens, gushed.

Then she went on to describe her family’s lovely evening complete with traditional music, story-telling, and eggnog. She ended by saying, “By the time our quiet evening concludes, we’re energized and ready to try something new.”

Wow. That sounds just like my family. (Insert sarcastic tone here.)

My case of hives wasn’t so much from the article. I’m happy for Gayle and her peeps. Really. Instead, it came from memories of one particular tree-trimming evening at my house.

We all started well–hubs, the boys and me–matching up with the perfect pictures of Christmas preparations in my mind. It was just like BH & G. Amy Grant crooned Christmas carols in the background. Eggnog was poured into the red glass cups that I had snagged at a tag sale, and boxes of decorations from the attic lined the walls. For a fleeting moment, we experienced the perfect Christmas season.

But everything started downhill when it came time to put lights on the tree.

Squabbles erupted over tangled strings of bulbs. Somebody turned on the football game, and the sound of the TV clashed with the carols from the stereo. Instead of telling lovely stories of the ornaments’ histories as we hung each one, my boys began to make fun of the 70s-style baubles from my childhood. The perfect moment all fell apart faster than you can say, “Mama’s in a snit.”

Maybe they just got distracted, or maybe it was the maternal growls and snarls that drove them away, but suddenly I found myself sitting alone on the floor in front of the tree. The rest of my family had abandoned our decorating traditions.

I furiously gave the tree a yank to position it for another ornament, and…   TIMBER! It fell on me, driving the metal rod of one of the artificial branches into my arm.

That’s when it happened. Out of my mouth popped some of the overflow of a disgruntled perfectionist’s heart—a big, fat, four-letter word.

That brought the family back into the room.

“Mom! Did you just say #*!@?!”

To this day, there is one favorite Christmas story at my house. It’s not The Gift of the Magi or The Polar Express. Not even How the Grinch Stole Christmas makes the cut. Our family’s favorite story is The Day Mom Cussed When the Christmas Tree Fell on Her.

Sigh.

So much for the perfect family Christmas. Ours might be rated R.

This year is likely to be the hardest Christmas any of us can remember… especially if we’re holding tight to the idea of the ideal Christmas. After all, nobody’s up for singing “I’m Dreaming of a COVID Christmas.”

The tree-trimming I described above happened almost a decade ago, and I’ve now spent almost two decades breaking up with perfect. Only Jesus brings true perfection, so I’ve stopped pursuing my own so that He can start His perfecting work in me.

I’ve learned a few things we can all do as the holidays approach that will usher in what we all want this time of year—joy, peace, and a Jesus-focused heart. They’re all centered on relationships—with yourself, God, and others. Our circumstances will never be perfect, but our Christmas love can thrive.

Keep It Simple

Don’t drive yourself this season, and for heaven’s sake, don’t drive others either (a lesson I’ve learned the hard way). The pandemic has been difficult for all of us, and we’re tired. Be gentle with yourself and others.

For example, keep a family calendar and preserve some white space. For each opportunity presented, ask yourself what should not go on your calendar.

Leave some of the decorations in the attic. Pick up cookies for the holidays at the local bakery. Give a gift card to your cranky cousin that’s never pleased with his gift.

Have a discussion with friends and family about what is important to each person, and then let the rest go. I shake my head in sadness when I think of all the years that I drove myself and everyone else crazy with all the things I thought had to be done… stuff nobody enjoyed anyway.

Make Sure to Savor

Savor each person (even if they’re on Zoom instead of in the room), each moment, and most importantly, savor time each day with God. Linger in the candlelight of early morning. Let music of praise wash over you. Savor this season with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength.

For me, it’s particularly hard to savor my relationship with Jesus from November through December. My mental lists lengthen in any quiet moment, so this is the season when I need some great devotional books to keep my thoughts focused. Here are a couple I’ve got close at hand for this season:

• The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp
• The Women of Christmas by Liz Curtis Higgs

I’m looking forward to a simpler but happier Christmas with my family in 2020. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that breaking up with unrealistic expectations—those pictures of the perfect Christmas that only live in my head—is the key to creating a Christmas that’s perfect for us. (Hopefully, minus four-letter words this year!)-

Give me a break! Have you ever said that?

Of course you have. If not aloud, then certainly in your head.

Honestly, don’t you feel that sometimes people are taking advantage of you? They don’t “get” you? They are only thinking about themselves?

Give me a break, indeed. We could use that occasionally. If it’s not someone we need a break from, it’s a situation we need a break from.

Here’s a personal case in point, and I just bet you can relate.

I’ll say it out loud: Facebook can be toxic. Sure, you can decide what you read and what you scroll past, but you’ll see a post, see who wrote it, and – even if you know better – you read it. Then your blood pressure pegs out.

This last week I unfriended someone I’ve known since kindergarten. I haven’t seen this individual in years, but we’d reconnected on Facebook. It was obvious early on that they were in a different place than me. And that’s perfectly okay, right?

Even though I was never scorned by them personally, the tone of their posts was just downright ugly. Mean. Hateful.

I tried to keep scrolling when I saw their posts. But inevitably I’d read what they had to say. I’d regret it.

So, without fanfare, without dramatics, I simply unfriended them. Maybe I’ll reach out later. Or not. I’ll just have to see.

I’d never done that before. I’ve snoozed people because – you guessed it – I needed a break. With this person, however, my sentiment was: “We done. It doesn’t mean I love you any less, but we done.”

Part of guarding your heart involves who you let into your life.

But the thought occurred to me – is there someone who needs a break from me? Are they saying, “Give me a break … from Tony?”

If I think about that for too long, I’ll get weird. My temperament is such that I want to please people. That’s not always healthy.

Before I say that I need a break from someone, I need to realize this truth: I can’t be everything for everyone all the time. And, as equally as important, everyone can’t be everything I need all the time, either.

I’m discerning enough (and this can be a genuine burden) to know how people around me feel. Not only that, because I’m an empath, I also feel how they’re feeling. I used to think that was freaky, until I learned that it’s a genuine thing. It’s not common, but more people have those abilities than you’d think. I don’t count it as a superpower. It’s just there.

Anyway. Think about those close to you. A friend, a family member, a coworker, whoever. As much as they love you and care for you, there are going to be times when they’re all used up. They got nuthin’. They have that off day – they’re tired, frustrated, scared, melancholy, all that.

It is possible, too to have an off week. And I’m old enough to realize that it is entirely possible to have an off month or even year (I’m looking at you, 2020.)

It might be that, because we all have “those days,” someone close to you can’t give you what you need. It may be that they are subconsciously taking a break from you.

That may seem unfair. But it’s unfair to expect those in your life to run at full capacity all the time.

Know what? People will let you down.

You’ve let down other people.

It balances out.

I’m attracted to those who are struggling, for whatever reason. I want to fix them. One thing I have learned, though, is that you can’t want something for someone more than they want it for themselves. You can wear yourself out trying to be all things for all people.

Self-preservation, and guarding your heart, sometimes means putting some distance between you and that other person. But if you only want to be around someone when they’re upbeat and chipper and at their best, you aren’t much of a friend.

It’s all about seasons, right? We just can’t be disappointed with someone who, for a time, doesn’t meet up to our expectations. Chances are you’ve been distant and disconnected with other folks yourself.

But, if you find yourself in a constant state of disappointment with those you care about, it may just be that you’re putting demands on them that they can’t fulfill.

They are looking at you with all your impossible requests of them and they’re saying, “Give me a break.”

Perhaps it’s time we all developed enough sensitivity to give people the break they need. Maybe they’ll offer the same grace back to you.

Be well.

Let me share 10 traits I value in my friends.

I’d like for this to be interactive. I’d love for you to share yours with the rest of us in the comment section below.

These are in no particular order.

1. Availability. I’m thinking about that 3 a.m. friend, that if I were in a real crisis, I could call them and know they’d come without hesitation.
2. Space. The contrast here would be that I value friends who give me breathing room. I don’t want someone in my face, ever. Don’t hover around me. Knowing you’re there is plenty enough.
3. Humor. Lord deliver me from folks who take themselves so stinkin’ seriously. I’m not talking about a good joke-teller here, although that’s okay. I value that. I mean someone who just simply finds stuff funny, even things other people don’t. My sense of humor leans toward absurdity, and I love satire. My friends need to roll with that.
4. Depth. I can tolerate surface small talk for a while. I can even pull it off in a pinch. But sooner or later, I gotta have those deep, meaningful discussions. Maybe even self-relavatory. If I ask “How are you doing?”, I mean “How are you really doing?” I can go with the theology of creation, or why God made mosquitos, or the most embarrassed you’ve ever been. Wanna talk about the meaning of life? I’m in.
5. Loyalty. All of us have experienced the pain of being “ditched.” I’m too old to let that bother me like it would’ve when I was much younger. Still, it hurts to be betrayed. So loyalty? Yeah.
6. Forgiveness. I simply don’t want to be around folks who hold grudges, much less have them as friends. If you and I are to model Christlikeness, there is absolutely no reason whatsoever to withhold forgiveness. We forgive because we were first forgiven. When you forgive, you’re exercising a superpower. I like that.
7. Integrity. Say what you mean and mean what you say. I value consistency as a friendship trait. A synonym could be “authenticity.” Just be real. I can spot a phony a mile away.
8. Encouragement. Prop me up from time to time, okay? I hope that doesn’t display some sort of neediness on my part. If you can sincerely say “Tony, it’s gonna be okay,” I’ll follow you to the jumping off place. You will have made my day. Maybe even my week.
9. Tolerance. Follow me here. I’m not talking about tolerating wickedness or sin. Now, I can be pretty keen on “live and let live.” But that doesn’t mean that you or I either one should turn a blind eye to evil, even if that evil is sanctioned and culturally incorporated. I guess a better term would be “open-mindedness,”  seeing things from the other person’s point of view. Listening. Seeking first to understand before trying to be understood. I like to be around folks who’ll give others an honest hearing, even if they have no intention of being converted to an opposing viewpoint.
10. Faith. I love to see Jesus in my friends. I have friends who are nonbelievers, and that seems appropriate to me. Look who Christ hung out with. But for my besties, I need folks who are examples of “iron sharpening iron.” I know what kind of spiritual laziness I’m capable of. I’m not afraid of being accountable to Christian friends, even though sometimes in the flesh I want them to mind their own business. Faith in God? Yes, please.

I don’t have that many friends.

Don’t feel bad for me. To some extent, that is by choice. It’s an introvert thing, and if you’re an innie like me, you know what I’m talking about.

There’s only so much of me emotionally to go around. If I let you in, then, by golly, you’re in. All in. I won’t invest in you causally.

That’s what I’m about. What are the traits you value in your friends? I’d love for you to share your thoughts below.

Be well.

“Nobody’s perfect.” You ever said that?

If you have, it’s probably because you screwed up and were trying to justify your failure to someone else. That’s why they make pencils with erasers, right? People make mistakes.

This is the logic: if nobody’s perfect, I shouldn’t worry so much about the times I’ve blown it.

And yet – many people are prone to protectionism. If that’s you, keep reading. If not, maybe you can just pass this blog along to someone who is.

At any rate, we all tend to mentally beat ourselves up when we miss obvious things. Have you ever said things to yourself that, if anyone else said them to you, you’d punch them in the throat?

• ”You are an idiot for messing that up.”
• ”You are a consistent screw-up.”
• ”You’ll never be good at that.”
• ”Why bother? It won’t make any difference.”
• ”Look at all those people who can do that better than you. You’re just outclassed.”

See what I mean? When you say “nobody’s perfect,” you recognize there’s a standard out there that you aren’t reaching. And the harder you try to get things just right, the more likely it seems that you’ll fail.

Perhaps you can identify with:

• regret
• opportunities you turned away from
• choices that were lame in hindsight
• Saying “I should have…”

It’s also a matter of hearing criticism from others that feels like “piling on,” because you’ve already emptied your emotional fuel tank criticizing yourself.

I’d contend that much of what we experience in the realm of personal dissatisfaction has to do with perfectionism. Let me explain.

You’ve probably had the experience of running across a high school acquaintance on Facebook or other social media site who comes across as shockingly perfect. They have the right job, right spouse, right kids; they live in the right place, drive the right car, vacation in the right places. Perhaps you’re a student and you see posts from your classmates, who invariably have it all together. You aspire to that. You so wish you had it together, at least more than you currently do.

You’ve heard me say this a gazillion times: Social media is a great betrayer of the truth, simply because we can only see what others want us to see.

Knowing that as a fact, though, doesn’t always take the sting out of you feeling that you just aren’t good enough. It’s because we get a sense of “who we ought to be,” and that’s informed by what we see in others as filtered through modern narratives.

”Nobody’s perfect,” say you? Then why the self-inflicted dissatisfaction?

Pop culture has us saying things like:

• ”I’m better than I was yesterday.”
• ”I’m good enough.”
• ”I can do whatever I set my mind to.”

Does that even help? Perhaps. None of those statements is inherently false. But you might find yourself stuck in the same state you were in yesterday. Maybe you really aren’t good enough. Perhaps experience has taught you that you can put your mind to something and still fail.

Make peace with reality on this one.

As long as you’re grappling with who you ought to be vs. who you really are, you can expect to be in pain.

Before you break out the torches and pitchforks, understand this: I am not giving you an excuse for not striving. You do want to better yourself. Don’t let contentment cause you to stall out. If you’re a believer, giving up and accepting your state is not an option. Nobody’s perfect in and of themselves, but we are perfected in Christ. (More on that in a moment.)

But that old self? That part of you that keeps coming back to torment you and convince you that you’ll never amount to anything? It’s time for a funeral.

That’s hard.

There is never any excuse for not desiring excellence. You never want to intentionally do a bad job. I hope you realize that without me pointing it out. You want to do better and hold yourself to high standards. That’s not what I’m talking about.

Listen: Sometimes good enough is good enough. And not good enough doesn’t define you. It just means you need to not let perfectionism become a liability that saddens you.

Ancient script says this: “Be perfect, therefore,” Jesus said, “as your Heavenly Father is perfect.”

Want to know a better translation of the word “perfect?” Check this out: Perfect = complete. In other words, you are whole and done because God’s done all in you He needs to.

There are huge implications for us – not the least of which is that we never need to say of ourselves, “nobody’s perfect.” Because you can be made complete.

If God is complete (He is), then if we mirror Him (and we should), then we show the world the character of God. Theoretically, can we be perfect? Because of our weakness and useless striving, we can’t be perfect in the world’s sense. In the spiritual sense, we have grace to overcome our shortcomings and sins. Still, there are plenty of opportunities to sin, and we all tend to take advantage of them. So we aren’t talking sinless perfection here, neither in the spiritual or temporal sense.

”Nobody’s perfect” is a true statement apart from God. But you can be made complete.

I’d suggest that completeness makes perfectionism irrelevant.

Yes, you want to be and do your best. At the same time, you have to understand that God has already done the heavy lifting. He doesn’t exist to serve you. But what He wants to do is for you to recognize who you are in Him, and not who you are in comparison to others who seem to have it together so much better than you do.

May God grant you grace, peace, and the simple contentment of knowing you don’t have to perform for Him or anyone else. You’re complete. Don’t carry around burdens that were never meant for you.

I’m honored today to introduce you to Carol Ghattas. Carol was a student in my first full-time youth ministry a lot more years ago than I care to think about. From Day 1, Carol was a special young lady. God’s hand has been on her all these years. Her story is worth sharing. Read, enjoy, and follow her blog. The link is at the bottom.

I’m what you might think of as a typical Southern, white Christian woman who’s lived anything but a typical Southern white life. I blame it on The Call.

I got mine at the age of ten, and it changed the course of my life.

I’d been a believer for two whole years, nurtured in a wonderful Christian family and strong church home, but it was after hearing a missionary speak that I heard God telling me: “Carol, you are not going to live the rest of your life in Murfreesboro, you’re going to serve me overseas.”

And I did – though not right away of course, but that didn’t mean I was isolated from the nations. Not only did my parents sponsor international college students, but when a group of refugees from Laos came to my town, I got involved in our church’s outreach to them.

After graduating college, I left home to spend two years in Ivory Coast, West Africa. I wanted to taste the life to which I knew God was calling me. My “tasting” became more of a baptism by fire, as I was faced with realities of mission life:

Even with the harshness of the lessons God was teaching me, I could not push aside his call on my life. I was compelled to seek his forgiveness for my pride and sin, while submitting my clay jar for further use. During a prayer retreat in Ivory Coast, his voice was clear that he wanted me to serve among Muslims. I began seminary in the States with the goal of pursuing full-time mission service in the Middle East.

That’s when God joined my call with the call of an Egyptian-American pastor, Raouf Ghattas.

God knew my weaknesses and allowed me the honor of being joined in service with one of the few men who were actually called to work among Muslims. Raouf was the perfect one for me, and for the next twenty years we served in the Middle East and North Africa. This was the fulfillment of that childhood call in ways I could never have imagined, as I witnessed God at work among the nations.

Closed doors don’t mean a closed call.

We had moved many times during those twenty years, but it was ultimately security issues related to a recently published book we’d written that forced our return to the United States. God brought us back to my, now not-so-small hometown to find that Muslims had moved into the area and were building a mosque. The early years of our “retirement” from full-time mission work, became another full-time local ministry to the Arabs in our county. We started a new church for Arabic speakers and began training Americans in outreach to Muslims.

When my husband died suddenly in 2015, I wasn’t sure what to do. I was working full-time as a librarian and serving as administrator and translator at the church. For the next three years, I pressed on, despite the fog of grief, because I knew God was not finished with the church, though he was moving it into a new era, with new leadership. When we hired a full-time pastor in 2019, I knew God was leading me in a new direction.

Let others speak into your call.

It took time to be at peace with what he was saying to me, mainly out of a sense of responsibility and guilt over leaving the Arabic church. Yet, God knows how to help us through the transitions. He kept sending people my way, former colleagues, friends from the Middle East and even family members who listened and served as sounding boards and counselors to help me navigate this new way.

Some of these helped me see that I needed to take time to grieve. I’d lost, not only my husband, but my father as well. Keeping busy kept me from losing control, but I had to admit that I’d lost the joy of service. I dreaded going to church, translating, and keeping up with people. The love that had compelled me was waning. I knew I had to step back and start saying “no” until I could be refilled myself.

Call doesn’t change – though expression may.

No longer at my husband’s side in service, I began to see how God was moving me back to a “first love” in writing. First in journals, then on Facebook, a blog and in books, God began to show me that though my life had changed, my call hasn’t. He’sjust using a different way for me to serve him and share with others. I come home from work at night and cannot rest until I’ve worked on something related to a writing project or blog post. I’m compelled in a new way now, still by his love, still by that love pouring out for others – all, I pray, to the growth of the Kingdom and his glory.

For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. (2 Corinthians 5:14-15 NIV)

May you be compelled today to live solely for Christ.

Grace and Peace.

Carol B. Ghattas is an author, speaker, and librarian. Visit her blog at lifeinexile.net.

Quit complaining. Have you ever said that – or wanted to say that – to someone?

Or have you ever been told to quit complaining? And you complained because someone said that to you?

I have always felt like I was patient to a fault. But in my old age, and since I’m trying to qualify for my curmudgeon credentials, my tolerance level for complainers of all ages, genders, life conditions, etc., is getting progressively lower.

As I told a close friend, “My grace and mercy reservoir is about drained.” That’s not typical for me, but man. Sometimes you’ve just had enough, right?

Here are some thoughts. I’d like for you to (a) be able to develop some coping skills when dealing with complainers, and (b) how to recognize your own tendencies toward complaining and consequently do something about it.

First, complaining might be good in some ways but it’s an awful long-term condition to be in.

Here’s why:

1. It really doesn’t help much. While there is perhaps some benefit occasionally in “venting,” to remain in that state for too long is going to poison your soul.
2. Folks won’t want to be around you. Granted, some people feed off others’ misery. It’s that old “misery loves company” idea. Most everyone, though, would prefer to be positive and upbeat, and be around folks who are the same.
3. But – being in the presence of chronic complainers is sort of like being exposed to secondhand smoke. You run the risk of developing the disease they have.

Second, who wants to be known as a whiner?

You know that person, right? It’s too hot, or too cold. The government is responsible for all their woes. No one understands them. Money is too hard to come by. We sure do need some rain. The sun hasn’t been out for days. And so forth.

And third, complaining causes you to lose sight of what’s really right and positive.

It’s a gratitude thing. More on that in a bit.

So how do you deal with a complainer? What can you do besides just telling them to “quit complaining?”

1. You have to decide if you need to offer support or run away. They may have a valid complaint worth your attention.
2. Acknowledge that you aren’t going to change them.
3. Understand that people tend to mirror the mood of those around them. Make sure that your own attitude affects them, and guard against them impacting you.
4. If their negativity and complaining starts dragging you down, figure out ways to limit contact. Easier said than done, right?
5. Adopt my mama’s attitude: “It’s just their way.” If complaining is a personality trait they have, and they embrace it, you just have to gut it out – unless there’s a way you can disengage from them with honor and integrity.

So, what can you do if you’re the complainer? What if you know you need to stop complaining?

1. Learn to recognize that trait in yourself. If you can handle the truth, ask someone you trust to shoot straight with you.
2. If people tend to avoid you, see if your negativity and complaining is a factor.
3. Ask yourself: “Am I getting some kind of validation or attention from others when I complain?”
4. Understand that complaining can literally rewire your brain. Seriously. Research has shown that complaining and negativity causes an increase in cortisol, the steroid hormone that is responsible for the “fight or flight” response. That’s not bad if you’re being chased by a rhino, but not so good on a daily basis.
5. Probably the simplest solution is just to keep your mouth shut.

However, the no-fail, works-every-time solution is to practice gratitude.

“But Tony,” you say, “you have no idea how lousy my life is.”

I don’t. I have noticed in myself that the skill of practicing gratitude can easily get atrophied if it isn’t exercised.

Here’s your practical assignment. Don’t argue with me. Don’t make excuses. Just do it. It’ll move you in the right direction to quit complaining.

1. You are going to get yourself a journal. Splurge on a nice one. It’s just more meaningful and valuable if it’s attractive and functional.
2. BUT – if that sounds lame to you, get a spiral notebook. Or a McDonald’s bag. Something is better than nothing.
3. You can use a digital tool, but there’s magic in writing in longhand.
4. In the morning, before you start your day, do this: In your journal, I want you to write down what you’re thankful for – at least three things. And if you can’t come up with three … wait. I’m not buying that. If you have a pulse, have the promise of food, and can find shelter, there’s three right there.
5. At night, right before bedtime, get that journal out again. Here’s what you’re going to write: (1) Your lessons learned. What happened today that taught you something, good or bad? (2) Wins. What did you do that was successful? It doesn’t have to be big or of enduring significance. (3) Gratitude. Write at least three things you’re thankful for. It could be repeats of what you wrote this morning. But shoot for at least three.

Don’t skip a day, unless you have some sort of genuine compelling reason to do so. And write, write, write. A mental list isn’t going to cut it. You have to get it out of your head and in front of you so you can see it.

In the realm of feelings, to NOT complain is simply going to make you feel better. That would be welcome, right? And by not complaining, you join that elite group of people who are known by their positivity, who brighten a room when they enter it, and just display that undefinable “something” others aspire toward.

Quit complaining. It can be done.

The indifference of God. Maybe you know what I’m talking about.

If you’re a believer, you’ve been taught that God cares for you. You’ve experienced that care, perhaps.

There have been times when I’ve rested in the arms of Jesus. Storms wail, waves crash, darkness looms, and yet I feel perfectly safe. He’s got me, in other words.

Other times, it’s as though I’ve hung on for dear life. It’s like walking to the edge of the abyss, peeking over, and knowing that one misstep is certain death.

I was taught that I would never walk alone. What about those times when you don’t sense His presence at all? And before you climb up on your spiritual high horse and try to convince me that you’ve always known He’s there, I will tell you that part of your spiritual growth process is to experience the silence of God.

This is nothing new.

If you want to take this thought to its extreme manifestation, consider Jesus’ words from the cross:

“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus experienced silence. His Father God was nowhere to be found.

How are we to respond to God’s silence? Is the indifference of God even a thing?

It is not. But that’s not to say that we should interpret God’s silence as His indifference.

In the bleakest of moments, you might have said to yourself, “No one cares.” The companion thought is, “No one understands.”

These are actual possibilities, I’m sorry to say. It’s unlikely, but there are people who genuinely don’t have anyone that cares about them. And to say “no one understands” is to some degree true of all of us. No one is going to completely “get” you because they aren’t you. If you don’t always understand your thoughts and actions, it’s not likely anyone else is, either.

My Sunday School diploma gives me the authority to say this: God cares. God understands.

Don’t blow that off as simplistic or just a t-shirt slogan. I don’t think the issue is believing those statements – the problem comes in making them a reality in your life.

What can you do, then? When God is silent, are there steps you can take to assure yourself that He is indeed there and is continually present?

Try these:

1. Understand that the silence of God is not the indifference of God. God, by His nature, cannot be indifferent. He is intimately involved in every aspect of your life.
2. If you’re wondering if God cares, let me direct you toward the Cross. That’s proof aplenty.
3. God routinely takes us to places of desperation. I’d be presumptuous to try to explain why. I think it has everything to do with our personal growth and maturity in Christ. He leaves us to our own desires, and we wander far afield. Like the prodigal in the far country, He engineers circumstances to take us to a place of hopelessness. If we’re reasonably intelligent, self-inflicted hopelessness should point us to repentance. Repentance leads to restoration.
4. Part of God’s strategy with us is when He seals up the heavens and you not only don’t “hear” from Him through scripture or prayer, you can’t even tell if He’s around.
5. This is much, much different from the human “silent treatment.” That passive-aggressive tactic is deployed to make someone feel guilty or unworthy. That’s not how God rolls. Quite the opposite.
6. God’s silence is intended to move us to a place of longing. We experience a leanness in our souls. We move into a place on dependence on Him. You don’t take Him for granted anymore.
7. When the time is right – and He determines the time – He’ll break through. It’s incumbent on us to put ourselves in a place where we can hear and discern clearly.
8. Just because you can’t feel His presence is no evidence that He isn’t there. Feelings are great betrayers. Don’t base your relationship with God on how you feel.

Can you trust Him no matter what?

It’s easy to trust God when the bush is burning and you hear His voice. You can easily trust Him when the waters part before you and you can cross safely on dry land. It’s those times of silence that are disturbing.

Guess what? You are not exempt from God’s silence.

If silence serves His purposes and causes you to yearn for Him, you can count on Him to be very, very quiet.

It’s easy for me to say “hang on.” It’s much tougher to have to be the one who’s hanging. I believe your best strategy is to acknowledge that we all experience those times of silence, from the weakest believer to to the strongest saint. God trusts you enough to let you experience His silence. There is no such thing as the indifference of God. When He refuses to speak, take comfort in knowing He’s up to something big. He is going to grow you in a totally unexpected fashion.

Go with that. He’ll never leave you or forsake you.

Read that again:

You can start over and finish well.

I don’t know why that statement resonates with me so strongly.

Actually, I do.

I don’t have many regrets. Yes, I’ve made some bad choices and decisions. I have found myself in patterns of behavior that have not served me well at all. I’ve dug myself into some significant holes. None of them have been moral failures or crimes.

Nope. They’ve mostly been just stupid.

You’ve heard this plenty of times: You can’t fix stupid.

If “fixing stupid” means going back to the past and undoing things you’ve done or said, that is absolutely true. You can’t take it back.

Here’s a miracle, though: You can start over and finish well.

If you want to try a little exercise, here ya go. Get a piece of paper and a pen, or open any notes app on your device.

You won’t enjoy this, but it’ll lay some foundation for good stuff.

Number your paper from 1 to 5. I want you to come up with 5 stupid incidents in your life that were caused by you – decisions you made, things you said, or habits you instilled in yourself. You won’t have to share these with the class, so be totally honest and authentic. Sugarcoating won’t help. I’ll wait.

Wasn’t that fun? And now, I want you to circle the one out of the whole list that had or has the biggest impact on you.

Guess what? You can’t take it back. And it could have been of such significance that it altered the trajectory of your life.

I hope that little exercise didn’t put you in a total funk. Again – you can’t take it back, and in some fashion you have to make peace with that. It’s done. Over. Finished.

Still. You can start over and finish well. We just have to come up with a strategy as to how that can happen.

I don’t want to give you a pep talk. I do want you to think in terms of what’s ahead for you. The reason you aren’t dead is because you haven’t completed what God put you here to accomplish.

Let’s fix stupid, shall we?

1. You’ve identified some events in your life that have hamstrung you. You may be experiencing fear or shame because of them.
2. Claim this thought: “You are never good the first time.” That’s from John Maxwell. Maxwell is a pretty smart guy.
3. Mistakes and failures come to anyone who has a pulse. There’s nothing new there.
4. As hard as it is to believe, those mistakes and failures can and should build character and make you resolute. You can’t learn and grow if things go your way all the time.
5. I say this all the time: Failure is an event, not a person.
6. Don’t wish for a do-over. The lessons you learned the first time were sufficient.
7. Everything – and I mean everything – you’ve experienced is a foundation for the positive things that come next.
   1. Look once more at the number one thing on your list.
   2. Identify the most significant lesson you learned from it.
   3. Ask yourself: If faced again with the same circumstances that brought on your bad decision, what would you do different?
   4. Is there a principle in what you learned that you can apply to other similar circumstances?
   5. If so, what would keep you from modifying your behavior next time? (Hint: Whatever it is, don’t do it again.)
   6. Remember you have total, utter control over the choices you make. It’s not someone or something else’s fault. That gives you extraordinary power and authority.
8. You aren’t too old, uneducated, unlucky, unfortunate, or unable to start fresh. You’ve had experiences that have prepared you to do so much better the next time around. Claim that.
9. Give me an excuse that will convince me that you can’t finish well. But I wouldn’t work too hard on that one. I will not enable your excuses. You shouldn’t enable your excuses either.
10. Truth: You already have inside you what you need to do to start over and finish well. There has to be a connection made between what you know you should do and actually doing it. You have the solution to your pr0blems already at your fingertips. So how do you make that a reality? At the risk of sounding naive, here it is: you just do it.

Please, please, please understand – I am a fellow pilgrim and sojourner with all this. I’m saying things I know to be true. But as stated in #10 above, just doing it is a really acute struggle some days.

Ancient script says this: “… I do not practice what I want to do, but what I hate… what a wretched man I am!” For thousands of years, men and women better than you and me have dealt with this awful conundrum. “Who,” said the apostle Paul, “will rescue me from this body of death?” He takes a deep breath and says, “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”*

I’m a person of faith. I’m not saying that it is impossible for you to start over apart from God. In my context, though, I acknowledge my inability to experience lasting change apart from him.

At the beginning of 2018, I made the very public statement, “2018 will be my best year ever.” Eight months into 2019, my success criteria has shifted. After dealing with flooding, a parathyroid tumor that really wreaked havoc with my calcium level and my mental capacity, a renal cell carcinoma (kidney cancer, if you please), and a concussion which has caused post concussion syndrome (the worst) … I’m sticking by my statement. 2018 and 2019 have not been the best years in the conventional sense. It looks pretty awful in retrospect, and there are still more challenges to come.

Know what, though? It’s gonna be okay. It always is. Always has been. I can’t begin to comprehend all the “why’s” in play here. In the flesh, it’d be easy for me to say “the heck with this.”

All these events have put me in a place of starting over with my “new normal.” I don’t know if I would be willing to put effort into a new start had I not been faced with these challenges. It’s all part of a plan that I can’t completely see quite yet. But I have utter confidence in God shepherding me and orchestrating events  all around me in order to fulfill His destiny for me.

That’s what starting over and finishing well means.

My story is your story. You’ve had challenges galore. You’ve made some bonheaded choices. You’ve wanted to blame God, others, circumstances, unlucky breaks, everything to excuse yourself for how you’re feeling and acting. I have, too.

Well, dang it, we are better than that. We are capable of more. Inside each of us is the solution to our ordeals. We need to simply receive with gratitude, and act on what we know the wise thing to do is.

Start over. Finish well. The world needs a completed and fulfilled you.

*from Romans 7:15-25.

(Note: As I write this, I’m in Orlando/Kissimmee, Florida, at the certification conference for the John Maxwell Team. I’m gonna receive my full credentials to be a coach and teacher, which is sort of a big deal for me. I’m a day late on my blog because of that … yes, I could’ve done this earlier. Oh, well.)

Maxwell says, “Leadership is influence,” and that’s what spurred me on to today’s blog. Because you make a difference whether you mean to or not.

My blog is all about encouragement, being hopeful, and keeping your head high in chaos. Maybe your primary concern is just getting through the day. That’s a big deal, you know? Many people barely squeak by in the course of 24 hours. Their daily lives are a slog.

Perhaps, then, being an influencer is way down on your list of priorities. Finding your keys may be your biggest accomplishment for the day.

However. You make a difference whether you mean to or not. It all depends on how you want to make a difference.

Do you want to be purposeful, or do you want to be random?

Because the choices you make, small or large, can and do make a mark in your corner of the world.

I want to illustrate this with a little history lesson.

I am a product of the South. I am not ashamed of that. My “southernness” is a huge component of who I am. But I am not an apologist for the Confederate States of America. Both of my great-grandfathers fought for the Confederacy. While that may seem reprehensible to many today, please understand – we cannot discern the mindset or prevailing culture of our ancestors, nor should we interpret what happened in 1861 through the sensibilities and hindsight of 2019. We don’t know what we would have done back then if that was all we knew.

That, by the way, is why I am secretly amused when people talk about being “on the right side of history.” How can you know that? The Third Reich thought it was on the right side of history, too. I’m wondering if our descendents will look back on these days and ask, “What the heck were they thinking?” But I digress.

I’ve been a War Between the States buff for decades. I’m pretty well-versed in that part of our history, and I can carry on a decent conversation about battles and politics and leaders of that era.

There is a Union officer I want to make you familiar with. He is Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain of the 20th Maine.

Ever heard of the Battle of Gettysburg? It was a pretty big deal. Chamberlain was responsible for repulsing the Confederate advance on Little Round Top, a key geographical position on the high ground of the battlefield.

By all accounts, this event turned the tide of the battle. Short on ammunition, Chamberlain employed a bayonet charge against a much superior force. (I have a link for you to check out. Humor me – it’s a compelling story, even if you aren’t a history buff.)

Chamberlain said, “I had, deep within me, the inability to do nothing.”

Read that again.

I had, deep within me, the inability do do nothing.

Still here? Consider this.

Andy Andrews says, “Historians have discovered that, had Chamberlain not charged that day, the South would have won at Gettysburg. If the South had won at Gettysburg, historians say, the South would have won the war. Now, I had always thought that if the South had won, we would be the North and South, but historians say that had the South won, we would now have a continent that looks more like Europe, fragmented into nine to thirteen countries. Which means that, had Chamberlain not charged, when Hitler swept across Europe in the 1940’s, the United States of America wouldn’t have existed to stand in the breach. When Hirohito  systematically invaded the islands of the South Pacific, there would not have existed a country big enough, powerful enough, strong, populous, and wealthy enough to fight and win two wars on two fronts at the same time. The United States of America exists today because of one man who made a decision to charge. One man decided he was a person of action.”

This haunts me.

Part of it has to do with something of a certain self-centeredness I deal with. It’s that “looking out for number 1” philosophy. Self-care is important, but not to the extent that you forget about others.

There are needs all around you. You ever, providentially, wonder if you are the one to meet those needs?

I wonder if Chamberlain ever looked back at the battle for Little Round Top and fully understood what a difference his choice of a bayonet charge made, not only at Gettysburg, but on the outcome of the war itself.

You may not ever lead others in battle, at least in the military sense. There is a battle raging all around you all the time, even if you aren’t aware of it.

It may be that one of the best way you can be encouraged and embrace hope is to act directly on the things you can do something about. It’s getting out of yourself and looking at the higher cause.

At best, you may be able to encourage someone else, help them have hope in what seems to be a hopeless situation.

I can imagine the Union troops looked at the advancing Confederates and wondered, “What are we to do?” And their commanding officer gives some very unconventional orders. It paid off.

I guess what I want you to understand is this:

Act.

Don’t allow yourself to be paralyzed. Take action. The longer you brood and worry, the harder it will be to do something.

Don’t be Tony on a bad day. Tony’s bad days dictate that I spend all my time trying to figure things out. Be faithful to what you know you need to do. It will make a difference in the lives of others … and you.