Stop pretending. There’s more to us being here than just existing.

Look what Oregon did:

The state of Oregon will now allow students to take an excused day off of school for mental health reasons.

The new law, signed last month by Gov. Kate Brown and expected to go into effect this fall, lets students take up to five mental health days every three months, although school districts are free to create their own schedules. Students will also be granted permission to make up any tests they may have missed.

“I took on this cause for a personal reason first off because so many of my close friends in high school struggled with depression, and there were times when I saw them at school when they really shouldn’t have been there, would have been much better for them to take a day off,” Hailey Hardcastle, a recent high school graduate who was among those lobbying for the new law, told TODAY.

In Oregon, suicide is the second leading cause of death among 10- to 34-year-olds. Nationally, suicide is at a 50-year high.

I’m not as sure as I used to be.

With all that as a backdrop, here’s three thoughts.

1. Our feelings are facts. Last night while I was watching TV it started raining.  That’s a fact. No matter how upset I got, it wouldn’t change the reality of the rain. If I’d stepped outside without an umbrella or rain gear, I’d get wet.

Our mental and emotional states are a lot like that. It’s pointless to deny our feelings. They need to be acknowledged. It’s not a matter of strength or weakness. It just is. Stop pretending.

I love C.H. Spurgeon. I’ve found a lot of helpful encouragement in a little book by Zack Eswine, Spurgeon’s Sorrows. I’ve referenced it before. Spurgeon knew that mental illness could be as devastating as physical illness:

“The mind can descend far lower than the  body. For [the mind] there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour.”

Yikes.

This is nothing new, of course. Check out the Psalms. A goodly chunk of them are what are identified as psalms of lament. They are written testimonies of men in dark, dark places. For instance, here’s a sample from Psalm 88:

2. You need a friend. Even if you classify yourself as a loner, and could teach introversion on the graduate level, having a safe person to turn to is a virtual necessity. Of course, you could hire someone – there are counselors, therapists, and professional people galore – but talking about things with a friend is downright special.

Just make sure it’s someone who can do more good than harm. You don’t need someone telling you “It could be worse,” or “At least you know what you need to do.” Job had his “miserable comforters.” Maybe they meant well, but they wanted to blame Job for all he was facing. That’s not helpful. Stop pretending that some friends are helpful when they’re not.

I’m reminded of an old hymn, O Worship the King. One lyric line refers to God as “maker, defender, redeemer, friend.” I mean. That’s all I need from God as  comforter and counselor:

• • Maker. He put us together. We’re part of His creation. He knows intimately what makes you you, and because of that, He knows exactly where our heads and hearts  are at in any point in time, and He engineers circumstances around us accordingly.
  • Defender. He protects us. He guards us. God is an advocate for us. When you’re being attacked – and note that attacks can come from our own minds – He is a shield from the bad stuff. He’ll only let you experience what you absolutely need to experience.
  • Redeemer. He offered salvation, of course, and I received it. In addition, though, He saves me from myself. He knows when we’re stricken and offers deliverance from whatever is haunting us.
  • Friend. I can’t get my head wrapped around knowing the creator of the universe is my friend. He hopes for us when we don’t have hope for ourselves.

3. There is hope for the future. That may sound pat, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Yes, it’s raining, but I just looked at the radar. It’ll clear out soon. And guess what – it would clear out whether I looked at the radar or not. It isn’t a matter of me knowing what the future forecast is – it’s grounded in the nature of reality. The rain will stop soon.

We desperately need hope. Fortunately, it’s readily available. There are those with a certain worldview who’d state that they are a haphazard bundle of biological stuff, perched on an insignificant piece of cosmic real estate, simply biding their time in an indifferent universe. Their hope is that they can perhaps make a small difference in the temporal world they live in, but beyond that – nothing. The void. “You might as well live,” Dorothy Parker wrote. I’m convinced there’s more to us being here than just existing.

To the kids in Oregon (and perhaps to all of us), I’d say that there is real comfort and hope available.

There are many, many resources available to those dealing with mental/emotional issues. There is absolutely no shame in seeking out the help one needs, and that could involve counseling, therapy, medication, or any number of other tools.

Finally, there is this: Christ has risen. That’s the blessed hope right there. Stop pretending that you are hopeless, because you aren’t. Jesus has loved us to hell and back. We hope, not in denial of the state of ourselves, but rather in the certain glory promised us. There is a mountaintop joy awaiting. It all comes back to Him, you know? In Him, we have a legitimate reason to hope. I’m all for using whatever resources are available to us. But He is the Great Physician, and all healing – mental, emotional, physical – ultimately comes from Him.

You’ve probably been there – down and out.

Or maybe you’ve been down but not out. That’s infinitely preferable.

This is especially acute if you’re a believer. Down, but not out? Well,  how about just down? If that’s the case, you’re in good company. Let me see if I can give you some encouragement.

The question sort of hangs in the air: “How can those who follow God get so depressed?”

Here are some case studies. They aren’t easy to read. Even those with great faith have moment of outright despair.

First, Moses, from Numbers 11:1:

If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me—if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin.”

That’s not something I’d easily say to God.

Next – good ol’ Elijah, who was in a bad place in 1 Kings 19:4:

Asking God to kill him. Right.

Jeremiah is another hero of the faith, and yet, in Jeremiah 20:14:

In the abstract, ending a relationship isn’t something I want to do, even when it’s best for everyone involved. It’s a matter of “We done. I don’t love you any less, but we done.”

Social media, specifically Facebook, gives you an easy out in ending a relationship. Unfriend them. Boom. Done. But what if you want to salvage things? Perhaps you’re thinking after this troubling season is over, which is rife with toxic politics and COVID issues, we can go back to normal with the people we care about.

What do you do when you want something for someone worse than they want it for themselves?

I’ve always prided myself on being able to build solid, lasting relationships.

I don’t make friends easily. Now, I can’t imagine anyone not liking me, although I’m sure it’s happened and I was unaware. There have been a couple of times when I knew someone didn’t like me, but because of who it was, I didn’t particularly care.

I’ve just been selective in who I invest in. It’s an introvert thing. If we’re friends, you’re stuck with me, unless we move on because of distance, interests, or something else. 

But what if you DO care?

For those of you who know me well, I’m going to deal in hypotheticals here. So don’t spend a lot of time trying to figure out if I’m talking about one specific individual. This is a fictional character – or, at most, a composite. It’s a story of ending a relationship.

Let’s call her Martha.

I first met Martha my sophomore year in college. She was supercute. We had a handful of classes together. I don’t know if there was any “chemistry” there, but it was pretty obvious early on that we could have a relationship.

We became friends first. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to happen? She had a wry sense of humor, was somewhat introverted, but could still strike up a conversation with anyone. Actually, I didn’t know of anyone who didn’t like her.

There was this unspoken thing between us, and we were both sensitive enough to know it. We would never be anything other than friends. And that was just the way it was supposed to be. If the relationship had gone to another level, it would’ve messed everything up. So friends we remained. Really, really good friends.

We were sort of inseparable. We were so, so open and transparent with each other.

Invariably our conversations gravitated toward two things. We were both Christians. Martha was well read, and we’d have these late night theological discussions about the most obscure tenets of our faith. We tended to have the same beliefs.

The other, of course, was romantic relationships.

We’d talk about the differences in males and females – especially the vast chasm between how we looked at dating life. Martha got plenty of attention from guys. I wanted to vet them all. And she did the same, and more than once she kept me from really messing up with some girl. Fortunately, that personal threshold between us was never crossed. While I was astutely aware of just how pretty she was, and I kind of enjoyed being seen out and about with her, a dating relationship was never an option. Which was good; sometimes I think a friendship can be one of the most pure, uncomplicated relationships around.

Growing old together?

I thought that’s what was going to happen. We’d joke about that. We’d talk about both of us being in the nursing home with our spouses, spending evening playing dominos. We talked about being in each others’ weddings.

And then, the bad thing.

It was over a guy. Wouldn’t you know it? This is what led to me ending this relationship.

I knew Charles vaguely – we didn’t run in the same circles, but I was on a decent enough acquaintance level with him. He was handsome, of course, and charming, and always at ease. I liked him well enough.

He and Martha had grown up in the same town, went to the same school, but he’d graduated a year earlier than her. While they knew each other growing up, they really hadn’t had anything to do with each other.

Now – for reasons unknown – they’d rediscovered each other.

Bottom line is that they started dating. She’d asked me what I thought, and I’d observed them together. I’ll spare you my “A guy knows another guy” lecture, but the simple fact is that this cat only had one thing on his mind. You don’t think I could look in his two eyes and tell you what he was up to?

So I told her what I thought.

She’d asked me what I thought, right? But what I said wasn’t what she wanted to hear. I told her that he was decent, but that she could do better. Sne needed to know that he had the capacity to tell her just the stuff she wanted to hear. I told her I thought he was capable of manipulating her and the relationship.

She took it in stride, but I knew she was gonna do whatever she wanted to do anyway.

My mistake? I couldn’t let it go.

Truth and not fiction here – I want to fix everyone and everything. I want everyone to be happy, to get along, to be at peace. Maybe that’s some sort of weird codependency thing. I’m not sure.

So I kept warning, giving advice. Finally, one night, Martha said, “Tony, you’re gonna have to give this a rest. You’ve said all you need to.”

I feigned hurt, told her that she’d misunderstood, that I wouldn’t hurt her for the world, all that.

She blew up. I don’t mean just telling me to back off. She went Vesuvian on me. It was awful. I didn’t see it coming, and I couldn’t even respond.

Martha spent a good ten minutes peeling the hide off me, accusing me of meddling, of misunderstanding, of being sanctimonious and holier-than-thou. She said I’d been that way with her and others for a long time.

There was more, but that was the gist. She cried. A lot. I couldn’t string together a coherent sentence in my defense. Blindsided doesn’t even begin to explain what happened to me. “I’m sorry,” I said over and over again.

And that was it.

She stormed off after that exchange, and you know what? It was the last real conversation we ever had.

I reached out to her through friends, because she wouldn’t take my calls. When we were in proximity to each other, what little conversation we had was brittle and uncomfortable.

I wanted to patch things up, to make things right. She would have nothing to do with it or me.

I’ve spent a lot of time on this story. Here’s why, and here’s my takeaways.

Maybe they’ll be yours, too, because I’m fairly certain you’ve had a relationship go south yourself. Perhaps you didn’t handle it appropriately. Maybe you aren’t over it yet. Ending a relationship is thoroughly unpleasant, even when it’s right.

• You aren’t exempt from loving that person. Nope, you don’t get a pass. If you’re a believer, hate isn’t an option. You are commanded to love them (love your enemies, right? That’s a non-negotiable.)
• Love, in this context, isn’t a feeling. You will feel what you will feel. That’s not what this is about. Love, here, is a purposeful act that exists apart from your emotions. (I don’t know how to tell you how to disengage your emotions from this. You just choose to.)
• Relational issues may be objectively obvious to you as you observe someone else. But etch this in stone – if you want something for someone worse than they want it for themselves, you will experience horrific grief. 
• You have to develop the skills and sensitivity to know when a relationship can’t be salvaged. If you’ve reached out in good faith, had an attitude of accepting and receiving forgiveness, and done all that decency and Christian faith have required, and you’re still rebuffed, it’s done. But refer back to that first point.
• Sometimes you genuinely have to mind your own business. Enough said.
• I don’t want to address self-care too much here, but you do need to protect yourself from emotional pain. There can be a breaking point when you’ve done too much to try to fix things.
• Ultimately, you may need to simply close the door. Or even slam it. 

Which brings me to the title of this blog. I mean what it says.

There are times when ending a relationship is appropriate. Sometimes you just have to be done with someone. Not mad. Not upset. Just done.

Our challenge is to be done with them in love. Do this, and allow God to do the healing. Perhaps, in His providence, He’ll restore that relationship, and you need to be sensitive to His hand as it works in your life (and the other persons’ life.) Until then, take care of yourself.

“We all eat untruths when our hearts are hungry.”

I got that line from The Old Try. Check out what these Mississippi expats are up to. I love their work.

Ever since I read that line, it has haunted me.

There is a leanness inherent in the human soul. We come into the world missing a crucial component of our lives. A void, if you will.

From birth forward, your life is a pilgrimage, a quest to fill that void. Or, to quote the great philosophers Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, “I can’t get no satisfaction.” The path of least resistance dictates that we find the easy answers to challenges. No one wants to stress themselves out looking for the truth, now do they?

When our hearts are hungry, then, we flail around, trying to fill the void.

If there’s any lessons I’ve learned from the last few months, it’s that people are hurting and searching. They want answers.

Sometimes, though, the answers based in truth are contrary to the beliefs they’ve held.

I think about this. I mean, if you’re wrong, wouldn’t you want to know that? Wouldn’t you want to correct yourself and abide in truth?

My conclusion is that some people willfully choose to live in ignorance, even when the truth is readily apparent to anyone with just a shred of critical thinking skills.

When our hearts are hungry, it’s because we’ve sought nourishment that is either wrong or inadequate. If someone is starving, and they only drink some water, they aren’t going to have their needs met. Water is necessary for life, of course, but by itself it isn’t sufficient.

To torture this analogy a bit more … you have to stay hydrated to live. So drink your 64 oz. a day, or whatever the current recommendation is.

And at the same time, don’t eat any solid food. Your rationale is, “I don’t want to eat solid food. I don’t believe it has any value. It’s a hard pass for me.”

Eventually you’ll die from that belief. You believed it was true. But your subjective truth doesn’t stand up to reality. And if you starved, I just bet you wouldn’t get much sympathy. Some folks with a mean streak might say, “Well, you had it coming.”

The solution would be just to put on your big boy/girl pants, admit you were wrong about solid food, and order pizza.

I could go really deep in the weeds with this, but let me try to wrap it up.

You have been bombarded with conflicting worldviews recently. You can’t escape it, unless you’re isolated from the rest of the world and have no outside input of any sort. That’s not true, of course; you’re reading this.

It’s possible that what you’ve wanted to believe hasn’t held up to scrutiny. You’ve justified, rationalized, and have still found yourself frustrated and defensive. Because what you’ve wanted to be true simply isn’t.

In other words, you’ve been eating untruths because your heart was hungry, and it’s still not satisfied. You’ve settled for water – which is a good, essential thing – but that’s as far as your taking care of yourself has gone. You just haven’t mustered up the courage to say to yourself and to others those horrible three words:

I was wrong.

Want to get right? Here’s the simple solution – but note I said simple, not easy.

Fill your heart with Jesus. Believer, take heed.

You can not, must not believe your untruths. Jesus is truth. There’s no gray. I’d admit that, with our frail and feeble human eyes, it’s dang hard to put aside the worldly stuff, simply because it’s tangible and palpable and you can watch it on TV. That’s a temporal reality, and not the ultimate truth. So we have to see things through His eyes and not through our faulty, biased, and corrupted eyes.

I went into this in some detail in my last blog about January 6. I won’t rehash it here.

My admonition to all of us is to simply be able to admit that if we have been wrong, we’ve been wrong. There’s no shame there. You are no less a person. You have lost no value. It just means that you have had trouble letting go of what you want to believe, and now it’s time to embrace the Who you need to believe.

It’s called having the mind of Christ.

There is hope for both you and me. Our hope is built on truth, and to the extent that we reject truth, we are just that much closer to being hopeless.

I’ve been struck on social media by what is coming from believers. They are talking like lost pagan sinners, and God seems to have no place in their thinking. I’m not so high and mighty as to say I’ve never been there, but I am striving to be honest with all, beginning with myself.

If it’s true, then, that we eat untruths when our hearts are hungry, then we need to nourish our hearts with the Bread of Life. That’s good groceries right there.

And second, because we’ve taken that step, we will be able to identify, call out, and banish untruths. We will be at peace regardless of dumpster fires. In Christ, not only will we be fine … we will prevail.

Be blessed.

These days, it really helps if you can find the strength to persevere.

To persevere simply means to “hang in there.” It doesn’t mean you have to be a hero. It doesn’t call for some superhuman effort. It just means that you’re not going to let “it” – whatever “it” is – in your life overwhelm you.

Overwhelm comes easy, doesn’t it? We’d all love to have the strength to persevere through those life slogs.

I’m encouraged by knowing, though, that I’ll never walk alone. Because ancient script says “Let the weak say I am strong.”

God knows. He gives strength to the weary.

I know that. I get that. But sometimes it’s just nice to have someone else to come alongside you for encouragement and to give you strength.

Stay with me here.

I follow several different bloggers. J.S. Park is a favorite. I’d encourage you to check him out.

Another favorite – not really a blogger – is Morgan Harper Nichols. I’m not exactly in her demographic, but she has some good, good stuff. She turns up a lot in shared posts, things from Pinterest, and other places. She has a devoted following.

Every day I get an email from her. “Your Daily Reminder,” she calls it.

It’s not really a devotional. It’s more like just a “thought.” Invariably, it’s positive and affirming, and I enjoy reading it. It takes every bit of 30 seconds.

In the spirit of imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, I want to do the same thing.

Enter “Strength To Persevere.”

I don’t know if I’ll share it daily, but I will share it at least weekly.

Here’s my reasoning, and it’s going back to my sense that we all do just a little better when we have someone walking alongside us. They don’t have to be chatty or engaging. They provide what one of my seminary professors called a “ministry of presence.” I love that term. It’s very descriptive.

What you’ll get is just a “thought,” and it’ll be very personal. To the extent that I am able to, it’ll be strictly an encouraging word. It may not be theologically deep or profound. I simply want to prop you up just a little.

All of us have been the beneficiaries of someone coming along with “just the right word at the right time.” By God’s grace, I’d like to be that right word for you. It should take no more than 30 seconds to read. I’ll make it shareable should you want to pass it along to someone else.

Here’s how to get it (and a little extra):

You’re obviously already on my blogsite. If you scroll down to the bottom of the homepage, you’ll see a profile picture of me (*snort* – you’ll see what I mean!) and a simple little form. Fill it out (just your first name and email), and – bingo! – you’ll be a subscriber. You can, of course, unsubscribe at any time – I can’t imagine why you’d want to, but it happens from time to time ;-).

Or, you can simply click HERE.

My simple motivation is to help give you the strength to persevere.

In recent months, this has turned into something of a calling. I’m not sure what God’s up to, but I kinda like it. Let’s do this and make the world just a little better for ourselves and others.

Be well.

IT IS TAKING ITS TOLL ON US. I can tell by the nature of social media posts that folks are on edge, angry, scared, frustrated, you name it.

My intent was for that particular course to have a limited shelf life, because the pandemic was going to be over sooner than later, right?

At any rate, this is not about the actual virus. It’s about what the virus causes among “healthy” people – people who aren’t infected with COVID, but are dealing with the “collateral damage” from it.

If you are one of those blessed few individuals who is temperamentally able to just roll with it, you are fortunate indeed. If you are one of those who has been able to remain physically healthy but are experiencing some real emotional and mental stress because of it, join the club.

Well, pilgrim, if you think mask shaming is a thing, just wait until we all experience vaccine shaming. That’s coming. You can bank on it. It’ll be divisive like masks never was.

How you gonna handle that?

Let me explain my rationale … and my vaccine.

1. The course itself addresses much more than just COVID. While COVID is what got me started thinking, I wanted to make sure that the principles I taught went beyond the virus. I’m deeply concerned about what the pandemic is doing to so many of us.
2. I wanted to produce a product with “legs” – something that would be of value long after the pandemic is over. Because – there are other crises ahead of you and me. I want us to be able to rise above the storms that will come.
3. My desire was to provide practical content – it’s a distillation of what I’ve learned and am learning about having hope when hopelessness is all around.
4. Finally, if you are persuaded this is not anything you can benefit from, fair enough. However, I’ll just bet you know people – friends, family, others – who would greatly benefit from this. Or, it might just be you can equip yourself to be that lightbringer to someone else, sharing what you’ve learned.

To that end, I’ve re-released the course. It’s on a different platform than I originally released it on (and that’s more of an in-house thing for me than anything else.) You’ll find it very accessible and user-friendly.

Here, then, are my action points:

I don’t know what more I can do to reveal my heart. I’m just so so grieved as I watch people virtually crumble before me, descending into meanness and judgement. Look at how we’re treating people who don’t see things as we do.

How to live in fear. That’s counterintuitive, isn’t it? Who wants to live in fear? Who wants to be scared all the time?

Not me.

You’ve seen lists of what people are most afraid of. Things like public speaking, spiders, ladders, flying, and so forth.

I don’t do well with heights. It’s not a phobia – at least I don’t think it is. But if I’m on a ledge of a mountain or building, and there’s no railing … if there’s nothing between me and the ground but air … sweaty palms, man.

Here’s what is generally accepted to be the biggest fear of all:

The fear of dying.

Want to live in fear? Many people are simply terrified of dying. Scared to death of it. (See what I did there?)

Think about this. I don’t know many people who enjoy thinking about death. The thought of dying, of embracing mortality, is shoved way back into the recesses of their minds.

Our culture tries to make sure we don’t live in fear of dying. There are all sorts of distractions out there to help us avoid the reality of mortality. There are whole industries designed to make us look and feel younger.

Nostalgia helps. Think about the oldies stations on the radio. Look at the success of television shows that recapture a period in our mind and hearts.

And meds? They’re available. Pharmaceutical companies provide pills to relieve pain, improve our well-being, and even keep anxiety and depression at bay.

Living in fear is obviously unhealthy. And here’s why, at least when to comes to what my grandmother quaintly (and accurately) called “the approaching shade.”

It’s like death is the last taboo. You just aren’t supposed to talk about it. You may be wondering why you’re even reading this right now.

Back in the day, death was interwoven with life itself. If someone died, they’d lie in state at their homes. Wakes were part of the whole experience.

Now, we have hospitals and hospice for the dying. That’s not bad; I came to love and appreciate hospice services for my mama. I like having drugs available that can ease pain and mitigate symptoms.

However, once you combine modern medicine, technology, and the ease by which we can distance ourselves from death, death is almost an alien experience. It’s never welcome, but now, it’s in a sealed-off, isolated room.

It’s like people think they’re immortal, y’know? Kids – teenagers – have always conducted themselves as though nothing can hurt them. Sometimes that carries over into adulthood when people take unnecessary, unreasonable risks.

That immortality thing? It’s almost as though if you don’t think about dying, it just won’t happen. Maybe it does to others. Maybe it does to really old people. Or, perhaps, it’s not even a thing to give a thought to – ever.

Well, pilgrim, unless Jesus tarries His return, you and I are going to die. That death angel will come knocking, and off we go.

Depressed yet?

Don’t be. I’ll encourage you in just a bit. Let me go just a little further into the dark. I don’t want you to live in fear.

If our society is one that avoids death, what happens when we all collectively have to deal with death and dying?

COVID-19 has given us that opportunity.

Yeah, I know the statistics, and they are encouraging. Chances are you wont get it, and chances are absolutely minuscule that if you get it, you’ll die from it.

I tested positive for COVID a couple of weeks ago. I was spared the nastiness. No fever except early on, no breathing issues. I was really achy at first, and had a cough and runny nose, but no big deal. The fatigue was what’s been killer. I’ve never felt as tired as I do even now. No fun. And other than an irrational five minutes or so right after the diagnosis, I haven’t worried. I don’t live in fear.

But people do die from this thing. You can’t escape it. The numbers are paraded in front of us in real-time.

Because of that, even the staunchest of us has had our worldview changed. While the physical threat is really minimal, the psychological threat is a whole other thing. It is real, and present, and pervasive.

If you haven’t thought about death, I’ll bet you have now.

Because of that, Americans have been paralyzed. There has been, in my mind, a clear and definite division in the populace. I’d contend that this is worse than the physical aspects of the pandemic. I’ve kind of obliquely wondered from time to time how we as a people would respond to a pandemic. Now I know.

Those two groups show definite behavior patterns:

Group One has retreated entirely from their normal lives. They hunker down in their homes. They sleep in their masks. They wash their hands until bone shows.

Group Two lives their lives pretty much as always. They get out and about. They are prudent, they take reasonable precautions, and they tend to wear masks when asked to. They aren’t rebellious, and except for some outliers, they understand that it’s just a virus. There’s not some insidious plot working against them. They’re cute in their tinfoil hats.

The biggest difference in the two groups is that Group Two refuses to be overcome by fear.

Group One tends to identify those in Group Two as deniers, and there may be an element of truth in that. They’d say that the Group Two folks are abandoning reason and science.

Know what, though? Those folks in Group Two? They’re trying to live their lives as usual because they’re NOT in denial. They recognize their mortality, and, at the risk of sounding flippant, they know they will die of something one day. They don’t invite COVID – like I noted, they are following protocol, at least for the most part – but they simply want to make the most of an awful situation.

In other words, they do not live in fear.

As a believer, I’d like to be counted as part of Group Two. But I am not gonna hate on those in Group One.

Pay attention.

You know yourself. You know your situation and circumstances. And because of that, you have the absolute liberty (within the law) to do what’s best for you and yours.

If you’re going to be with others during the holidays, ask yourself: Will you be with anyone who’d be considered at risk? Someone who is experiencing chemo, or anything else that would compromise their immune system?

Here’s what to do. Do what you and your family need to do, being extraordinarily cautious even if it infringes on your “freedom,” and be respectful of others and the decisions they have to make.

In other words, this maskers vs. anti -maskers nonsense needs to stop. If you’re part of all that, I’m thoroughly ashamed of you. And, yes, I’ve personally been a party to some of that, and I’m ashamed of myself.

Don’t judge others because they are handling all this differently than you. They might live in fear, right or wrong.

But you don’t know their reasoning.

You don’t know what’s going on in their lives that leads them to the decisions they’re having to make.

I’ll just bet the answers they’ve come up with didn’t come easily.

Can I say this again? Don’t judge.

Take care of yourself and yours. It may frustrate you, but you aren’t going to change anyone else – at least if you consciously try to change them.

Do what you need to do personally, being wise and measured. Don’t wall yourself off from other opinions. That’s what “snowflakes” do, and running away from things you don’t want to hear, or that you disagree with, isn’t healthy at all.

In other words, don’t live in fear. We are literally all in this together. Do what you need to to protect yourself and stay healthy, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. And simply don’t worry about others who may not see things as you do.

Be well. Be safe. There is an end date to all this. O be joyful.

EDIT:  I almost forgot. Unless there’s some compelling, rational reason for doing otherwise – wear your mask. Do it for your Uncle Tony and others like me who got sick. What could it hurt?

I used to routinely say stuff like “He/she is messed up in the head.” I didn’t mean that as a compliment.

Because, like most folks to this day, I thought depression, anxiety, even worry was a sign of weakness.

I was willing to cut some slack for a few people. Certainly I was compassionate toward those that were “born that way” – people who had mental handicaps, Down’s syndrome, things like that. The totally non-PC term we used was “mentally retarded.” That phrase could be used as a benign identifier, or an insult. You know what I mean.

My disdain was for those who just fretted, and brooded, and moped around. I remember a cousin who, when her husband died, basically took to her bed for what seemed like weeks. That was pathetic. I was convinced she was messed up in the head.

Over time, however, my sensibilities have evolved (can I use that term?) The great awakening for me came with my brain injury back in June of 2018. I’ve told this story many times.

It’s funny how one event can virtually alter the course of your life.

I’ve always been given to melancholy, which isn’t a good or bad thing. It’s a temperament, a trait, like having blue eyes or brown eyes. Since I’m all about finding out who I am (and who others are!), I’ve spent time with personality tests, such as Myers-Briggs (I’m an INFJ, which makes me pretty unique) and an Enneagram Type 4 (or as a friend states, “You’re a special snowflake.”) All that makes me a classically endowed introvert. Again, that’s not a positive or a negative. It’s just a thing.

I never really viewed my personality and temperament as an asset or liability. It was just part of what made me me, albeit a significant part. A lot of folks avoid discovering who they really are. Me, I’ve embraced it. I’m guessing some people might not like what they discover.

Last year I experienced a nasty concussion, as you may know. It’s kind of defined my life since then. There have been all  sorts of effects that come from post-concussion syndrome. It’s nasty stuff. It’s made me messed up in my head.

I can tell you all about most of the symptoms, including headaches, fatigue, dizziness, loss of concentration and memory – it’s quite a list. However, it’s the anxiety and depression that are killer. The linked article above from the Mayo Clinic compares PCS to PTSD. So, some days I’m a wreck. Before you place me in the Benevolent Home for Chronic Whiners, though, hear me out.

I titled this blog “Messed up in the head.” Click-baity, right? But I mean it.

Depression might not ever be an issue for you. Perhaps you cruise above life’s cares like an untethered helium balloon. Yay you!

But for those of you like me who cringe from the encroaching darkness, check this out. And if you are free from anxiety and depression, I’ll bet you have someone close to you who deals with it.

Where’s the joy in that!?

Consider Charles Spurgeon, the “prince of preachers.” He was prone to bouts of crippling depression, in addition to other physical ailments.The depression could hit him so intensely that, he once said, “I could say with Job, ‘My soul chooseth strangling rather than life’. I could readily enough have laid violent hands upon myself, to escape from my misery of spirit.”

His wife, Susannah, wrote, “My beloved’s anguish was so deep and violent, that reason seemed to totter in her throne, and we sometimes feared that he would never preach again.”

I’d say he spent some time in a dark place. He could even be considered messed up in the head. Been there, done that.

With all this as background, let me offer some thoughts about this whole depression thing (and cribbing liberally from Spurgeon, paraphrased. The good stuff is his, identified with a “*”).

1. Depression isn’t all in your mind. But it is. There are a lot of clinical components to depression, which I won’t get into, but it is manifested first in your head and can, of course, affect a whole host of other body systems. So if someone says, “It’s all in your mind,” you can congratulate them for being so perceptive.
2. Someone is bound to say, “Cheer up. There are a lot of people worse off than you are.” As if hearing that helps. Your most appropriate response is to punch them in the throat.
3. “Move on. Stop dwelling on it.” Talk about useless, even stupid advice! Depression can last a lifetime and a person can’t simply move on. There are resources aplenty to help manage depression, but that kind of counsel does more harm than good. Punch them in the throat.
4. As I mentioned before, there is still a stigma about depression and other forms of mental illness. So what? Do what you need to to get well.
5. If you’re a believer, you’re gonna love this one: Who wants to hurt? No sane person, but you need to hurt anyway. Those who struggle with depression and other difficulties never grow in strength and maturity like those who do.*
6. Regarding #5, those who lead an “easy life” (disclaimer: no one really does) tend to have a faith that is frail and shallow. There is a discipline that comes with trial.
7. You don’t tell someone else that they can grow through depression when they’re in the grip of it. That won’t help. I guarantee it. There may be a time when you just need to sit down and keep your mouth shut. Maybe cry with them.
8. Depression and anxiety are not evidence that God is against you. If anything, it’s the opposite. He is not going to abandon you, or render you useless. In a fallen world, friends may desert us, we may hurt, and we may even despair. But it’s entirely possible to lose things you cherish in order to learn that God is all-sufficient. For everything.*
9. As a believer, I want to focus on the resurrection of Christ. But Spurgeon, when dealing with the suffering and depressed, tended to point people toward Jesus crucified and the “Man of Sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” It’s all about knowing that there is Someone Who not only identifies with you, but Who has experienced the same thing you have.*
10. Instead of focusing on the “what” and “why” of depression, the call is to focus on the promises of God. We need to have an objective truth that exists apart from our feelings about it.

Consider, finally, the opening words from Spurgeon’s sermon, “When a Preacher is D0wncast.”

“Fits of depression come over the most of us. Cheerful as we may be, we must at intervals be cast down. The strong are not always vigorous, the wise not always ready, the brave not always courageous, and the joyous not always happy.

“There may be here and there men of iron to whom wear and tear work no perceptible detriment, but surely the rust frets even these; and as for ordinary men, the Lord knows and makes them to know that they are but dust.

“Knowing by most painful experience what deep depression of spirit means, being visited therewith at seasons by no means few or far between, I thought it might be consolatory to some of my brethren if I gave my thoughts thereon, that younger men might not fancy that some strange thing had happened to them when they became for a season possessed by melancholy; and that sadder men might know that one upon whom the sun has shown right joyously did not always walk in the light.”

I’d like to share my “why” with you. Specifically, it’s my why as it relates to my newly-launched course, COVID Crusher.

I wanted to offer a way to get some clear and actionable training on how to be freed from the emotional and mental burden of COVID-19 in five days.

Part of my motivation was that I didn’t want people to have to worry about the burden of uncertainty the pandemic has brought about.

I wanted to provide the tools necessary to move past the discomfort and hard questions and move into a much better state of mind and heart.

“So, Tony,” you say, “If you’re so anxious to get this in the right hands, why don’t you just share it? I mean, you’re charging for it. Why?”

I am indeed, and it’s simply because there are development and hosting fees I have to pay to make it available in the format I’m presenting. (I’d add that teachable.com absolutely ROCKS.)

So there’s that. And since you’re such a faithful reader, I wanted you to know that. People who say they aren’t concerned about money will lie about other things too! (That’s humor, btw.)

For me, this isn’t a political issue, or even a physical health issue. What concerns me greatly is the mental and emotional toll it’s taking on people. Here’s a word from Johns Hopkins psychologist George S. Everly Jr.:

Every disaster brings psychological casualties that far outnumber physical ones. Common reactions include depression, grief, guilt, generalized anxiety and post-traumatic stress.

With regard to this pandemic, we’re seeing all of these things. If that weren’t enough, many people have lost their jobs, and they may have preexisting psychological problems. There could be an uptick in physical, emotional and sexual abuse, causing more angst.

That’s what put me over the proverbial edge. I felt compelled to do something, even if it was wrong. That’s part of my “why.”

Here’s what it isn’t.

 This is not a physical cure for COVID – 19. Duh.

●     It isn’t medically-based. That’s the job of medical professionals. That ain’t me.

●     This is not a politically-motivated program. It’s as far from that as it could possibly be.

●     It isn’t some conspiracy theory insider piece. (I don’t want to offend you if you’re into conspiracy theories – some folks love ‘em. I’d just say that you won’t find anything in this dealing with implanted microchips, the Illuminati, or alien DNA.)

Here’s what it is.

●     It’s a guided course of study. It’s accessible and understandable to anyone from, say, 13 years old and up. Parents, take note.

●     It is designed to bring life transformation. You won’t be the same after you complete it.

●     It is written to get you results in five days. You can take as much time as you need, but for optimal results you should do one lesson at a time, daily

●     It is applicable to not only the pandemic, but to any other life challenges you may be facing. The principles I share are universal and transferable.

●     It is a set of tools that will help you meet your needs for peace, comfort, and hope even when it seems the world is in flames.

That’s my why. And if you are curious and want to know more, you can check it out right here.

Be blessed.

“Do the next right thing.” That’s pretty much a call to action, right?

The problem with follow-through is complicated, though.

• You have analyzed your situation until you’re paralyzed.
• You’re not comfortable where you are, but it’s more comfortable to stay there than it is to take a risky step.
• You aren’t even sure what the next right thing is.

If you’re a Disney fan (and, unapologetically, I’m one of the most passionate), you may recognize “The Next Right Thing” as the title of a song from Frozen 2. If that leaves you saying “Huh?”, never fear. I’ll get you caught up.

© Disney

Without getting bogged down in the plot (which is really dense and thought provoking), we have a character named Anna. Anna is one of two sisters from the mythical kingdom of Arendelle. (Maybe it’s not all that mythical!)

You’ll need to watch Frozen 2 to appreciate this (and Frozen too, of course. Trust your Uncle Tony on this.)

At the darkest point in the movie, when Anna thinks she’s lost her sister Elsa and the beloved snowman Olaf, she sings this:

I’ve seen dark before
But not like this
This is cold
This is empty
This is numb
The life I knew is over
The lights are out
Hello, darkness
I’m ready to succumb

I follow you around
I always have
But you’ve gone to a place I cannot find
This grief has a gravity
It pulls me down
But a tiny voice whispers in my mind
You are lost, hope is gone
But you must go on
And do the next right thing

Can there be a day beyond this night?
I don’t know anymore what is true
I can’t find my direction, I’m all alone
The only star that guided me was you
How to rise from the floor
When it’s not you I’m rising for?
Just do the next right thing
Take a step, step again
It is all that I can to do
The next right thing

I won’t look too far ahead
It’s too much for me to take
But break it down to this next breath
This next step
This next choice is one that I can make

So I’ll walk through this night
Stumbling blindly toward the light
And do the next right thing
And with the dawn, what comes then?
When it’s clear that everything will never be the same again
Then I’ll make the choice
To hear that voice
And do the next right thing*

This. Do the next right thing. The song is a study in depression – not what most folks would anticipate from a Disney movie.

Kristen Bell portrayed Anna. Here’s what she said about the song:

A lot of people feel that feeling: What do I do when I don’t know what to do? My personal mantra is you just do the next right thing. It also stems from when I am experiencing anxiety and depression. What do I do when I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning? You just do the next right thing, and that’s stepping out of bed. The next right thing is brushing your teeth. The next right thing is eating your breakfast. The next right thing is looking at your calendar and going to work. This idea of having an intrinsic motivation versus extrinsic motivation is something that as a parent I know is incredibly important to show kids and to help them cope. I really wanted Anna to be representative of that.

You’re probably way ahead of me already. This is a blog about encouragement.

Between the song lyrics and Kristen Bell’s astute observations, I don’t have a lot to add. But I’ll try to help us collectively determine what the next right thing is for us.

• You may be in a mental and emotional place that is really bleak. Or not; perhaps you’ve been there in the past and know you could easily be there again. It’s in your nature, right?
• You look toward the future. Maybe it isn’t hopeless, but it IS discouraging at the very least.
• You tend to project your anxiety because of all the “what if’s.”

Let’s make some progress here.

• You are not psychic. Maybe you think you are. Fact is, while you may have some sense of what’s coming next, there is no way you can know every detail of the future.
• If you’re a Believer, then your future is already secure. That doesn’t mean that you won’t face some excruciating challenges, but the final outcome is settled.
• If you don’t know what to do – right now – then take some counsel. The next right thing might be to simply stand up and stretch. Eat something. Latch onto at least one thing you are thankful for (a pulse? Somewhere to sleep? An upcoming meal?)
• After you’ve done that thing, take a deep breath. Then do another thing.
• These are baby steps, but they are steps. They are actions. They are little victories. Compounded, you can engineer a whole stretch of wins.
• Don’t wait until you feel like doing the next right thing. Do something anyway. Your feelings will catch up.
• There is no shame in letting someone you trust know you’re struggling. I can’t stress this enough. And if you don’t have anyone trustworthy enough or understanding enough in your life, there is plenty of help available.

This is all personal to me, no doubt. Since my head injury, depression is an unpleasant addition to my life. I am progressively getting better, and I’m so grateful for that. I’ve learned, though, that my improvement is largely in my own hands. I can’t passively sit around wishing things were different. I’m not ready for postmortems yet.

Sometimes you simply have to act. Do the next right thing.

Be blessed.

Tony’s Question: Without going into any detail – a simple yes or no would work here – do you know what the next right thing is in your own life? Share, if you’re comfortable doing so.

*Written by: Kristen Anderson-Lopez, Robert Lopez

Lyrics © Walt Disney Music Company

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

From Tony: I first wrote this (Titled “A Tale of Two Suicides”) on September 12, 2019. In these admittedly dark pandemic days, when sorrow is compounded and anxiety is at an all-time high, I felt it appropriate to share this one again. 

Two suicides. Actually, one was a singular suicide. The other was a group of 19 men who committed suicide on the same day.

One was performed as a final act of hopelessness. The other, the group suicide, was performed as a noble act of victory.

On September 11, 2001, nineteen terrorists who were members of al-Qaeda, an Islamist extremist network, hijacked four commercial airplanes. In a coordinated attack, the hijackers intentionally flew two of the planes into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, and a third into the Pentagon. Learning about the other hijackings, passengers and crew members on the fourth plane launched a counterattack, spurring the hijacker pilot to crash the plane into a field in Pennsylvania. Nearly 3,000 people were killed on that day, the single largest loss of life resulting from a foreign attack on American soil.

Image: Harvest Christian Fellowship

On September 9, 2019, Jarrid Wilson, a California church leader, author, and mental health advocate, died by suicide at age 30.Wilson, known as a passionate preacher, most recently was an associate pastor at megachurch Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, California. A co-founder of the mental health nonprofit Anthem of Hope, Wilson was open about his own depression, often posting on his social media accounts about his battles with the mental illness.

A tale of two suicides. I am struggling to wrap my head around this.

Looking back at  previous blogs, I see that I’ve tended to bring up this topic often. My intent is not to camp out on this one issue. In light of this last week, though, I feel compelled to talk about this, because the intent of this blog is encouragement and hope.

Think about this again. Wilson’s suicide grew from him feeling that there was nothing else to live for. The terrorists’ motive was virtually the opposite. They were giving their lives to what they felt was the most honorable of causes. They died with the belief that their act would gloriously further the al-Qaeda goal of bringing the United States of America down. (There were other motives, I’m sure.)

I don’t want to pick apart motives in either of these cases.The number of suicides in the United States increased 24 percent from 1999 to 2014, gaining momentum after 2006 when the increase each year jumped between 1 and 2 percent, according to the Centers for Disease Control. The biggest jump was among adolescent girls and men aged 45 to 64.

There is one common trait between these two suicides, though. Both Wilson and the terrorists believed there was a better world awaiting them.

In a  series of Tweets on September 9, Wilson wrote:

Loving Jesus doesn’t always cure suicidal thoughts.

Loving Jesus doesn’t always cure depression.

Loving Jesus doesn’t always cure PTSD.

Loving Jesus doesn’t always cure anxiety.

But that doesn’t mean Jesus doesn’t offer us companionship and comfort.

He ALWAYS does that.

There are many factors that lead to suicide. It is always by choice, or else it wouldn’t be suicide. It is borne out of a perceived need, whatever that may be.

A couple of years ago, The Gospel Coalition published an article titled “Why Pastors Are Committing Suicide.” It was sobering stuff – factors cited included church conflict, comparison to other ministers, and unrealistic expectations. Certainly depression factors into this terminal choice – and depression often has biological roots.

So there’s that. In Wilson’s case, his death was of his own choosing. There are no evidences that he wasn’t a Christian. While I’d never, ever presume to know someone else’s heart, I believe he took his life convinced by his faith that he would spend eternity in heaven with Jesus.

Now we are on dangerous ground. This almost implies that suicide is a solution to the woes of this earth. Because, after all, for the believer, this world is not our home. Right?

That’s absolutely true. But suicide is not a solution to the griefs and sorrows of anyone except the person committing the act.

Now, regarding the terrorists, the 19 who also willingly gave up their lives. It appears they did this with joy, believing in an eternity with Allah, blessed with virgins, all that. They were, in their worldview, sacrificing themselves for their faith … and taking thousands along with them.

We have this juxtaposition:

• al-Qaeda suicide = joy.
• Wilson suicide = hopelessness.

Thinking about this will keep you up late. Both suicides had a “why.”

To further complicate things, what about the soldier who jumps on a live grenade to save the lives of his comrades? Is that a suicide in the same vein as the two I’ve already cited? Or is this kind of sacrifice of voluntarily laying one’s life down – literally, not metaphorically – something different altogether?

I’d contend that it is. But that’s not what I’m addressing today.

Remember that Wilson and the terrorists both had a belief that their afterlife would be better than their current reality? I won’t say anything more about the differences in Islam and Christianity other than (1) they are most assuredly different, and  (2) if you subscribe to belief in absolute truth – and I do – then they both can’t be right.

I know I’m flailing about here. So let me get to my points.

• Suicide always has goal of bodily self-destruction.
• There are many motives for suicide. We see, though, that they can be motives borne out of hope or hopelessness. There can be biological or physiological factors at work here.
• Factoring out the terrorists’ suicide, we realize that hopelessness is at the root of Wilson’s suicide, and others in a similar state.
• There is nothing noble or glamorous about suicide. It unleashes torrents of sorrow.
• With all due respects to Wilson – who may have been in the grip of sorrows we can never comprehend – there is always hope. Always, always, always. He had moved to a place where even what he taught others wasn’t taking root in his own heart.
• There is always hope because Jesus is who He said He was, and He made unarguable promises – not the least of which is that He would never  leave or forsake us.
• And – more importantly – He understands us totally, even when we’re in a pit of despair.
• When thinking about reasons, we have to remember that mental illness is a disease. Depression can be terminal. But God has all sorts of tools to bring healing. There are so, so many resources available through counseling, appropriate medications, all that. There is no shame in availing yourself of treatments available. And while medical and psychological professionals are equipped to do their jobs with excellence, God is the Great Physician, and all healing ultimately comes from Him. He has the liberty to use human tools, too.

I hope this is self-evident: If you find yourself in this place, get some help. No shame. No guilt. It’s  available to you.

If someone you love is in this place, get them some help.

Remember none of this takes God by surprise, and He is not wringing His hands wondering what He is supposed to do. He always gives the gift of His presence to the believer, even if He feels far away.

Our takeaway? You never walk alone.

“You’ll never walk alone.” Isn’t that a comforting thought?

Or – are you scratching your head, saying to yourself, “I have walked alone. More than once I’ve been all by myself.”

To walk alone doesn’t even necessarily mean that there is no one else around. Walking alone can imply that even though there are plenty of people you’re close to, people who love you and enjoy your company, you are still alone. At the least, you feel isolated and misunderstood. You’re dealing with thoughts and emotions that separate you from everyone else.

Because, dang it, other folks don’t “get” you.

“You’ll Never Walk Alone” is a Rogers and Hammerstein song from the musical, Carousel. Wikipedia notes that besides the recordings of the song on the Carousel cast albums and the film soundtrack, the song has been recorded by many artists, with notable hit versions made by Roy Hamilton,^[4] Frank Sinatra, Roy Orbison, Billy Eckstine, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Lee Towers, Judy Garland, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Andy Williams, Glen Campbell, Johnny Maestro and The Brooklyn Bridge, Olivia Newton-John and Doris Day. Progressive rock group Pink Floyd took a recording by the Liverpool Kopchoir, and “interpolated” it into their own song, “Fearless“, on their 1971 album Meddle .

In recent days, it’s also become something of an anthem of encouragement in the world of COVID-19. And in football/soccer, too.

Check these lyrics:

When you walk through a storm hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho’ your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone,
You’ll never, ever walk alone.

So that should be comforting, right? Then why does it sometimes ring hollow?

I’m not sure why we so often have trouble internalizing this sentiment. We struggle to make it a reality.

So, on those days when we feel boxed in and so desire for someone to “get” us, what do we do?

1. Sometimes you simply have to face reality. You will have a challenge that only you can manage. Perhaps you’ve had incidents in your past that have prepared you for it. Maybe someone has invested in you and has had to move on. But this time … it’s all on you.
2. You have to understand that sometimes you have responsibilities that are unique to you. It could be job related. Maybe it’s incumbent on you to heal a relationship. Whatever the case, no one else can do “it” for you.
3. You want someone else to do it for you. You feel overwhelmed, even incompetent. The initiative you should take? You ain’t feeling it. Step out anyway. Your feelings will follow your actions.
4. Panic strikes. “I can’t do this,” you say.

I’d imagine you’re a few steps ahead of me by now, but if you’re a believer, guess what? You aren’t alone. You already knew that.

Oswald Chambers said, “You will find yourself at wit’s end but at the beginning of God’s wisdom.”

Of course, when you sense you’re alone, you’d like to have someone with skin on them. Somehow, though, we need to learn to acknowledge and experience God’s presence.

Truth be told, God is closer than anyone wrapped in skin. He actually indwells the believer. You couldn’t be alone if you wanted to.

Will God give you a sign that you never walk alone? Maybe. He’s not obligated to.

Feelings are great betrayers, aren’t they? You may not feel His presence, but that doesn’t change the reality of His nearness.

You’ll never walk alone.

You aren’t walking alone now.

In days to come, you won’t walk alone, either.

O be comforted.

Be well.

Tony’s Question: What do you do for yourself when you feel like you’re walking alone? Share your thoughts below. And share this blog with your friends on social media.