We were in Laurel last week, visiting with the grandkids, Katherine and Levi, and their expendable parents. (If you’re a grandparent, I don’t need to explain. Katherine and Levi’s parents just tend to get in the way of our fun.)

Katherine and Levi would rather eat at Waffle House than any other restaurant in the Western Hemisphere. I get that. It’s one of our all-time guilty pleasures. Waffle House is one of the great levelers of society — where else will you see neurosurgeons and sod layers eating together and know that everyone will be treated the same? Scattered, smothered, and covered — that’s my hash brown preference, in case you’re taking notes.

When we have the grandkids at our house, we serve them what I call a “syrup-based breakfast.” That means either pancakes or waffles, with about a pound of bacon for each kid. That’s pretty much what they’ll opt for at Waffle House too, anytime of the day, although Levi has branched out into hash browns. I’m trying to teach him to appreciate the finer things in life. “Papa,” he said, “you’re the best cook in the galaxy.” That’s pretty high praise, but I aspire to the “best cook in the universe.” I guess that gives me room to grow.

At the Laurel Waffle House — which was as cold as a morgue — we all opted to sit at the counter (aka the “high bar”), which looks into the kitchen. We all enjoy watching the grill jockeys at work — it’s like redneck hibachi.

Sitting at the counter next to us was an older gentleman (actually, he may have been younger than me, but he sure looked old.) He had on a weathered camo jacket covered with patriotic patches — flags, eagles, all that. He had on a ball cap with a political slogan on it. He was unshaved, clean, but still sort of disheveled. He was wearing Eisenhower-era hearing aids.

Our server was very cheerful, attractive, and had this multi-megawatt smile. She was also chatty, which is probably a prerequisite for working at Waffle House.

I obliquely noticed that the other gentleman was paying her more-than-casual attention. There was some low-level flirting going on as he sipped his coffee, which is all he’d ordered.

I wasn’t eavesdropping, at least not intentionally. At one point, our server asked him, “Do you enjoy watching me work?” He just beamed — I think he enjoyed the attention.

A bit later, he asked, “What time do you get off work?

Our server rolled with it. “At 6, but why do you want to know?” She was cordial, and smiling, but there was no question that he’d trespassed a bit too far.

He seemed to know that he’d crossed a line. “Uh, well, I was just wondering.” He began studying the last of his coffee.

That was pretty much it. He soon paid for his coffee and left. Our server watched him as he walked out the door. He was limping a little.

I couldn’t help myself. “That was a bit uncomfortable, wasn’t it?” I asked my server. Not that I would ever judge, but he sure didn’t seem her type.

She smiled wanly. “Not really,” she said. “He’s in here a lot. He’s just a lonely old man.”

I don’t know why that struck me. Everyone has a story. I didn’t know his. I may have been judgmental. Maybe I assumed he was a creep.

Since then I’ve been thinking about loneliness. Being alone isn’t a bad thing necessarily, but being lonely isn’t necessarily good.

As followers of Christ, we’re called to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2), yet in doing so, it’s vital to understand the nuance between being alone and being lonely, as they’re not always the same thing.

Being Alone vs. Being Lonely

Firstly, being alone is a physical state, where a person may not have others around them. It’s a solitude that can be sought after for peace, prayer, and reflection. Jesus Himself sought solitude to pray (Luke 5:16), showing that being alone can be a positive, rejuvenating experience.

On the flip side, being lonely is an emotional state — a feeling of being disconnected, unseen, or unloved, regardless of how many people are around. Loneliness can be more daunting to navigate because it’s not about the physical absence of people but the perceived absence of meaningful connections. So if we feel led, how do we address this when we see this in other people? And do we sometimes need to mind our own business? It’s complicated.

Reaching Out from a Christian Worldview

Pray First: Before you do anything, pray. Ask God for guidance, sensitivity, and the right words. Your outreach should be a reflection of God’s love, and what better way to ensure this than to start with Him?

Be Present: Sometimes, the best way to reach out is simply to be there. Presence can speak louder than words. Offer your time and attention. Whether it’s sitting quietly with someone, listening to them, or engaging in an activity together, your presence can remind them that they’re valued and loved.

Listen with Love: Often, people who are lonely just need someone to listen — really listen — to them. Listening is a form of love that validates someone’s feelings and experiences. When you listen, do so with the intention of understanding, not fixing. Remember, Job’s friends sat with him in silence for seven days before speaking (Job 2:13), showing the power of presence over words.

Share God’s Word in a Gentle Way: The Bible is full of verses about God’s love, presence, and care for us. Sharing a scripture can be incredibly comforting. However, be sensitive to timing and receptivity. Sometimes, it’s more about living out God’s Word through your actions than quoting it.

Invite, Don’t Impose: Invite them to activities, church events, or even just for coffee. However, respect their decision if they’re not ready to engage. Loneliness can make it hard for some to step out, so be patient and keep extending the invitation without pressure.

Encourage Connections: Sometimes, helping someone out of loneliness means helping them connect with others. Introduce them to groups, clubs, or gatherings where they might find like-minded individuals. Encourage involvement in community or church activities where they can form meaningful relationships.

Follow Up: Reaching out once can make a difference, but ongoing support can change a life. Check in regularly. A simple text, call, or note can remind them that they are not forgotten. Consistency shows genuine care.

Reaching out to someone who’s lonely is a call to embody Christ’s love in the most practical of ways. It’s about being a friend, a listener, and a beacon of God’s love. Remember, loneliness doesn’t resolve overnight. It’s in the persistent, gentle reaching out that hearts are touched and lives are changed.

Through such acts of love and kindness, we not only address the loneliness in others but also reflect the love of Christ, who promised never to leave us nor forsake us. In doing so, we fulfill one of the most beautiful aspects of our faith: sharing God’s unconditional love with those who feel most disconnected from it. Let’s not underestimate the power of reaching out, for in the tapestry of humanity, every thread is essential, and every connection matters.

Here’s something special from me at Thanksgiving. Honesty, I don’t have anything against turkey, but fried chicken transcends any calendar date.

Ode to Fried Chicken at Church Potlucks

Oh, golden treasure of the church social feast,

Crisped to perfection, a southern culinary beast,

Fried chicken, your sizzle whispers tales of home,

In the fellowship hall, where community roams.

Beneath steeples high, where hymns softly play,

Your aroma, like a gospel choir, steals the day.

Each piece, a sermon in crunchy, savory skin,

Whispers of potlucks past, and kinship within.

Thou art not merely food, but a binding spell,

Uniting souls in prayer, and stories to tell.

In your golden crust, a crunch of history resides,

Of grandmas and aunties, their secret recipes they hide.

Breast, wing, thigh, and drumstick too,

Laid upon checkered cloths, a heavenly view.

With each bite, a chorus of “Amen” rings,

In the sacred halls, where the community sings.

You transcend mere taste, oh bird divine,

In your juicy depths, memories and love entwine.

You’re more than a meal; you’re a shared embrace,

A symbol of grace, in this humble place.

As hands reach forth, in harmony they gather,

Around your platter, differences don’t matter.

In the clasp of prayer and the breaking of bread,

Your presence reminds us of the words Jesus said.

In this potluck, a mosaic of dishes array,

Yet, fried chicken, in you, our hearts sway.

You’re the star, the comfort, the soul’s delight,

In every bite, a testament of communal might.

In Mississippi’s warmth, under God’s own sky,

You bring us together, and lift spirits high.

Oh, fried chicken at potlucks, you’re more than food,

You’re a symbol of fellowship, gratitude, and good mood.

So here’s to you, fried chicken, in your crispy glory,

A simple dish, yet an anchor in every church story.

In each golden piece, a taste of southern love,

A blessing from kitchens below, and heavens above.

The Silent Strength of Friendship

Friendship is an enigma. It’s this beautiful blend of joy and pain, of laughter and tears. In the journey of life, friends become our chosen family, our anchors in the storm, and our cheerleaders in the game of life. But what does it truly mean to be a friend?

The Beauty of Silence

Have you ever sat with a friend in complete silence, where words were unnecessary, and the mere presence of each other was enough? There’s a beauty in that silence. It’s the kind of silence that speaks louder than any words ever could. It says, “I’m here for you, no matter what.” It’s the silence that acknowledges pain, understands grief, and respects the need for solitude.

Being a friend doesn’t always mean filling the void with words. Sometimes, it means understanding the importance of silence, recognizing when it’s time to speak, and when it’s time to simply listen.

Letting Go with Love

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but true friendship sometimes means letting go. It means watching from the sidelines as your friend takes a leap of faith, even if you fear they might fall. It’s about trusting their journey, believing in their strength, and understanding that everyone has their own path to tread.

Letting go doesn’t mean abandonment. It means giving them the space to grow, to learn, and to find themselves. And sometimes, it’s the greatest gift you can give.

Picking Up the Pieces

Life is unpredictable. It throws curveballs when we least expect them. And while we might stand back as our friends take their leaps, we’re always there, ready to pick up the pieces when things don’t go as planned.

Being there during the tough times, offering a shoulder to cry on, or simply being a listening ear, is the hallmark of a true friend. It’s the promise that says, “No matter how broken things may seem, I’ve got your back.”

A Love Beyond Rescue

The instinct to protect and rescue our loved ones from harm is natural. But true love, especially in friendship, goes beyond the urge to save. It’s about acceptance. Accepting that we don’t always have the answers, that we can’t always be the hero, and that sometimes, the best way to love someone is to let them find their own way.

It’s a selfless kind of love, one that puts the needs and growth of the other person before our own desires to “fix” things. It’s the realization that every individual has their own journey, their own battles, and their own lessons to learn. And as friends, our role is not to walk that path for them but to walk alongside them, supporting, loving, and accepting them every step of the way.

In conclusion, friendship is a dance of love and understanding. It’s about knowing when to step in and when to step back. It’s about the silent moments, the leaps of faith, and the times we pick up the pieces. But most importantly, it’s about loving without conditions, without expectations, and without the need for rescue. Because that’s the kind of love that stands the test of time.

We are all broken in some fashion, aren’t we? And brokenness can manifest itself in broken relationships.

This is a theme I tend to return to often, Broken relationships are just excruciating. Let’s suss this out, and let me see if we can get some guidance here.

You know where I’m coming from, right? And the fact is there are two sides to this particular coin, and we’ve hurt others just as much as they’ve hurt us.

There are broken people living with broken people in a broken world, and that leads to even more brokenness.

We don’t understand how much power we hold to cut down, wound, and affect the hearts of other people. We can be devastated by others. 

Here’s what I’m talking about. Can you relate?

Psalm 55:12-14, 19b-21

“It is not an enemy who taunts me-

I could bear that.

It is not my foes who so arrogantly insult me-

I could have hidden from them.

Instead, it is you- my equal,

My companion and close friend.

What good fellowship we once enjoyed 

As we walked together to the house of God…

..My enemies refuse to change their ways;

They do not fear God.

As for my companion, he betrayed his friends;

He broke his promises.

His words are as smooth as butter,

But in his heart is war.

His words are as soothing as lotion,

But underneath are daggers!”

Yikes. Can you think of a time when someone close to you hurt you? Did you feel broken after this?

So.

What can we do when we’re hurt by others?

Redemption is a root theme of scripture. It’s God’s role to take broken things and put them back together, and this includes relationships. It’s a cooperative effort; He’ll do His part, but we can’t be passive. Every hurtful situation is unique to the parties involved, and reconciliation is easier in some scenarios than others. Still, I believe there are some principles at work.

1.  Healing from brokenness is God’s gift.

This is God’s role, and healing always comes from Him and no one else. If you’ve been hurt, then the person who hurt you can’t fix you. And if you’ve hurt someone else, you don’t have the power to heal them. Our role is to tear down all the barriers of pain and resentment we put in the other person’s path, and then step back and let God fix what is broken.

2.  God’s goal  is to bring beauty out of every brokenness.

You may have been the wounded, or you may have inflicted the wounds. Be comforted knowing God is the redeemer in all things, and He’ll bring beauty out of brokenness we cause or experience. This is the only hope in a world where we as people hurt others, and they end up broken.

3.  Jesus heals.

Christ cares when people are broken and hurt by others. God hasn’t made all things new yet. Ultimately, He will. At the cross, he took action against our brokenness, He brings beauty out of brokenness now, and He will ultimately redeem relational brokenness forever.

4. Pray before taking any action.

This should be self-evident, but if you’re broken, this is a step in restoration. Remember you can’t fix this. So you have to ask for wisdom, patience, and love. Invite God to do what you can’t.

5. Don’t put off apologizing.

No apology, no reconciliation. Simple, right? But don’t put it off. Rather than wait for the other person to make the first move, jump in. It takes two people to mess up a relationship, but three to mend what is broken – that’s what God does. Insisting you didn’t do anything wrong leads to hurt and resistance, so you have to be vulnerable. Own your actions.

6.  Forgive the other person.

You have great power. The power to forgive! Lots of times, being broken comes from a past wound that one or more people created, and while that wound festers, there can be no restoration. Forgiveness, then, needs to be at the front end in order to deal with brokenness.

7.  Listen carefully, talk caringly.

So much of being in a broken relationship comes from us not really listening to them and striving to understand them. Listen, and don’t sit there rehearsing what you want to say when they take a breath. And, you for sure want to watch the words you say and how to say them.

8. Admit your own failings.

Being broken means acknowledging sometimes you can break yourself. This is a companion thought to Number 5 above. Instead of trying to win another argument, check out James 5:16 and confess any sins you’ve committed against that person. Take responsibility for what has happened.

9. Pursue peace.

There is a real chance you might never see eye-to-eye with the other person. You may not get the closure you want. That’s okay, because remember – it isn’t about winning! It’s a matter of realizing you both are broken, and you want to work on that relationship so it can be restored.

10. Know that, in some cases, the most necessary thing is to just walk away.

I hate this. There are some relationships that are so broken that even after prayer, pleas for forgiveness, and doing all you know to do for restoration, there may be some barriers that can’t be broken down by human hands. At that point, it’s time to step back and ask God to step in and be God. This isn’t a move to be taken lightly, because it might be perceived as a fresh wound. Again, God’s got this, and you can be at peace knowing you’ve done what you needed to do.

One thing for sure: If you are a believer, God works all the events of this life together for good. That means that nothing, and I mean nothing you do or that is done to you is irredeemable. God wants to bring beauty from your relational pain and brokenness and use it to sanctify you and bring about healing from being broken.

O be joyful.

Talk soon!

Love all, serve all, be mistreated. My goodness. There’s all sorts of irony in the title of this blog.

When I cobble these posts together, I purposefully try to be as broad as I can for people all along the faith spectrum. Most of the time, I’m writing what I want to hear for myself. I just kind of let you sit in.

Today, though, I am more in the camp of believers, Christians.

If you are a Christian, how well do you love? Do you love all? And what if you’re mistreated?

You know I’m not talking about love in the sense of romantic love, or even love among friends and family. I’m not even talking about self-love, which is a big deal.

Nope – I’m talking about supernatural, God-ordained love.

That kind of love operates separate from feelings. It’s a love that is actually an act of the will. It’s a love that can’t be self-generated. It has to come from another source outside ourselves.

Because, y’know, in and of ourselves I simply don’t think we have the capacity for that kind of love, even though we’re to love all. 

Here’s my autobiographical note: This actually comes easy for me. It’s a capacity for love that God just has seen fit to give me, and I’m grateful for that. I can say without hesitation that, to the best of my knowledge and heart, I love everyone.

Which is NOT to say that I care to keep company with everyone. There are some people I’d just as soon see going as coming.

And, of course, there have been people who’ve hurt me. Maybe I’ve been mistreated.

What’s your response to that? Unless you’re a hermit (and some days that seems appealing – like my friend Becky Brown noted, “I could easily be a hermit, but God won’t let me”), you have had someone – or maybe multiple someone’s – wound your soul.

You’re gonna have to look hard to find benefit in that, right?

The benefit comes in how you respond to being mistreated.

Talk about self-revelatory! Hurt can teach you an awful lot about yourself.

So. Are you a grudge holder? Do you erupt in Jovian anger? Do you retreat just to sulk and brood? How about plotting revenge? Is that you?

Well, how about this in response to hurt: be kind. Love all.

Stay with me here, because I’m not being patronizing.

I will tell you that the world may not look favorably on you if your response to being mistreated is to be kind. That’s not the way things work, right?

Some of the kindest Christians I know have lived in a world that wasn’t so kind to them.

That is so intriguing. Not only does it fly in the face of conventional wisdom, it doesn’t even really make sense. That is not a typical response.

Yet there are those who have been through so much at the hands of others, and they love deeply. They still care.

Are there steps one can take to reach that state? Can you really love all? Even if others mistreated you?

I’m not sure. You don’t find it in our sinful, carnal nature. It has to come from a different place. I dunno. Some people relish unforgiveness. I’ve never known of a time when forgiveness was anything other than a virtue.

In giving this a lot of thought over the years – the reason why people choose not to forgive – I have come up with a handful of “why’s,” possible reasons why people cling to this unique misery of unforgiveness.

• They don’t understand mercy. Mercy is one of the most divine of all traits. We are simply thunderstruck by Jesus’ words from the Cross – “Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they’re doing.” That’s mercy, right there, all encapsulated in a magnificent example of forgiveness.
• They prefer a hard heart to a tender one. Perhaps being tender hearted is viewed as weakness. I’d suggest that it’s a whole lot more courageous to be tenderhearted than it is to take a hard line.
• We are fallen people who live in a fallen world. It’s hard to to be kind when the whole of civilization seems to want us to be harsh and inappropriately aggressive. I see so much hatefulness everywhere I turn. This is not, nor will ever be, a “political” blog, but given the current state of things … I mean. Mama said “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Looking back, that might be a lot more wise (or certainly more kind) than I used to believe. What a toxic world! And don’t come at me with a statement like, “Jesus was controversial. Jesus was harsh. Jesus turned over tables and ran people out of the table.” C’mon, now. Really? Of course He did. But when your (or my) motivations are the same as Jesus’, we can use His tactics. Otherwise, it’s best that we stand down. This culture of outrage we have embraced doesn’t seem to help – all it does is make folks on the same side of an issue feel good (or empowered) about themselves. I don’t see many converts coming from rage.
• It’s simply easier to hold a grudge. It takes no effort. It feels good for a season. It makes you feel mighty and self-righteous. It feeds into that nature that says, “I’ll show you. I’m gonna hurt you back. And when I hurt you back, that’s gonna make me feel really, really good.”

“I can’t forgive,” you say. “I can’t be kind to him/her/them. They mistreated me.”

Here’s my bottom line for the day:

Sometimes, it’s the Christians who have been mistreated the most who refuse to be hardened in this world, because they would never want to make another person feel the same way they themselves have felt.

If that’s not something to be in awe of, I don’t know what it is. Love all.

Talk later.

“Friends are friends forever.” Did you just sing that?

Back in my earliest days of youth ministry, which would’ve been the early 80’s, Michael W. Smith’s song was almost like an anthem. You couldn’t avoid it. If there was ever a better song for the last day of camp, I don’t know what it is.

At any rate, I’ve been thinking about this for a week or so. Are friends friends forever? Do they even need to be? I mean, Facebook has had an “unfriend” feature for some time. I’ve used it a couple of times, and I have reason to believe it’s been used on me some lately, too, which I’m fine with. Lord. I hope I never get my sense of worth from social media.

Here’s the thing. The pandemic has thrown our relationships all out of whack. I’m over it; I’m not afraid to go anywhere maskless, but that’s just me. You do what your doctor says, and in the meantime – exercise some critical thinking skills.

Recently I got to spend some time with a friend I hadn’t seen in person for a long time. Since I can be horrifically socially inept, I was a wee bit apprehensive. I didn’t want it to be awkward or weird. We’d been keeping up with each other on social media, so it wasn’t as if we’d been totally disconnected. Still, when you’re online and typing, you do have some control (for better or worse) over how the exchange goes.

Fortunately, everything went fine. We’re still friends forever. I don’t see any reason for that to change.

Here’s my “but” statement. When it comes to friends, even forever friends, my stomach for uncomfortable social situations is a lot worse than it used to be.

Yeah, I’m an introvert. And I’m getting older and much more crotechty. As a Christian, I know I’m supposed to engage the world. (Funny how, under certain circumstances, that can be easier for me with people I don’t know.)

With the aforementioned friend, after we’d visited, I felt a gazillion times better than I did going into the conversation. Said friend made my day.

I’ve had the opposite happen, though. I’ve visited with a friend or acquaintance before and left our time together just exhausted. Spent. As in “show me the door.”

I’m a little vague as to how that works. I know some clinical explanations, but when it comes to friends, sometimes being clinical doesn’t help much.

Then there is loneliness.

Gonna tell ya – I seldom ever, ever feel lonely. There is a stark difference in being lonely and being alone. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to engage with others in a way that satisfies me.

I’d add that, while not the same thing as being lonely, I will cop to being frustrated when people don’t understand me. I don’t like to think I’m all that complex. Whatever. Generally, I can handle that.

So how many friends does someone need to not be lonely? That is unsettled science. The general consensus, though, is that there is no “one size fits all” number.

This: a 2010 Meta-Analysis found that loneliness is “as harmful to physical health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day.” That’s not great news.

It seems that when it comes to friends more isn’t necessarily better.

My personal sense informs me that spending time with people – even friends – that are critical, negative, unfaithful, and unreliable isn’t a healthy thing.

We all have a finite amount of time. Because of that, how we use it to invest in others is really important. Remember, though, you are responsible for the quality of your relationships.

Am I advocating just ditching those people who sap your energy, and their very presence devalues your soul?

Not really, simply because it isn’t always practical. There are some people that, because of work, family ties, or just proximity you can’t escape. Some of them might be friends.

I wanted to come up with a nice bulleted list of how-to’s. When it came to friends, everything I tried sounded pat and contrived.

I’ll just go with this:

Guard your heart.

I don’t know what that looks like in your life, but I’ll bet you can apply it to where you are relationally right now. It may be that, if possible, you need to jettison some people and restrict contact from them. It doesn’t mean you love them any less. It just means you have to protect yourself from having a depleted soul. This may not be easy to do.

Figure it out.

In The Writing Life, Annie Dillard writes: “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”

Live intentionally. It’ll help you discern who you need to spend your time with.

Friends are friends forever. Until they aren’t, and that may not be a bad thing.

And remember: What a friend we have in Jesus.

Talk later.

“I’m sorry.” Do those words ever stick in your craw?

I was chatting with a friend a while back, and he told me that he’d never heard his father say “I’m sorry.” I’ve thought a lot about that since then, because I’ve learned that this isn’t an isolated incident.

In the case of my friend’s father, it looks like a generational thing. Perhaps there was a time in our history when saying “I’m sorry” undermined authority.

Those of you of a certain age might remember the book and movie, Love Story. The catchphrase from that was “love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Well, who the heck came up with that? I know that in our househ0ld I have to continually apologize because, well, on some days I’m an insensitive idiot.

With our grandkids, I see brawls break out randomly. It’s usually toy related. You know, “What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine.”

We are spared from day-to-day discipline with those kiddos. Which is fine. We put in our time with their parents. But one thing I hoped we were able to do was teach them to apologize to each other.

I’m sorry. I’ll put that right up there alongside “please” and “thank you.”

Flash forward. Is saying “I’m sorry” a skill you have? Or is that annoying and useless?

Look. I’m not advocating “peace at any price.” While I tend to go along to get along, that’s not the same thing as humility. It’s saying, “well, dang. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

That gives you a great deal of power, simply because you’ve taken the higher ground.

Diving deeper, is there anything you absolutely couldn’t apologize for? What is that? And I’m not getting into the issue of unrestricted forgiveness – that’s another blog. Actually, I think I’ve addressed that plenty of times.

It seems there might be a genuine art to apologizing, to saying “I’m sorry” and meaning it.

Here’s three steps to apologizing:

1. Humble yourself and confess up – you’ve hurt another human being. There are times when we unintentionally hurt others, but what I mean here is when you act with the intent to wound. Question – what in the name of perdition would make you want to do that? Who wins in that scenario? There’s an argument that it might make you feel better to be cruel and vindictive, but life experience has also taught us that that to live in that state corrupts your soul. Long term, you feel lousy. As that great theologian Elvis Presley sang, “Don’t be cruel.” Whether you hurt someone physically or with words and actions, recognize you’ve wounded someone.
2. Tell – using words! – the person you’ve hurt that you understand what you did was wrong. You’ve seen this – maybe even experienced it: Something along the lines of “tell your sister you’re sorry.” And the other sibling mumbles “I’m sorry” with absolutely no sincerity or acknowledgement. I’m not so sure that this doesn’t happen with adults. You apologize, you say “I’m sorry,” but there is a total disengagement between lips and heart. The key is to genuinely understand what you’ve done and what motivated it. That calls for some self-awareness and a real gut check. Do it anyway.
3. Lean into the apology. Apologize. Mean it. Say “I’m sorry.” Hug it out, if that’s appropriate. And – a biggie! – move on. It’s rear view mirror stuff from there on. Nursing a grudge, brooding over past slights, and looking for an excuse to be mean again – that’s not gonna move the moral needle in your life.

Want to be eternally angry and bitter? Never say “I’m sorry” and mean it.

There’s a basic principle here that needs to come into play. It’s simply to keep short accounts. That will make you strong.  It’ll help you build strong relationships, in families and other relationships. Once a wrong has been committed, apologize as soon as possible. Don’t let it fester.

If you’re a parent and you’ve hurt your kid in some way – maybe by not listening to them, losing your patience, yelling at them – say “I’m sorry.” You are not an infallible parent. Your kids know that anyway. It’s not going to undermine your authority. If anything, it’ll give real credibility because you’ve demonstrated you really care.

If you’re a kid, it’s the same thing. Going for that “gotcha!” with your mama or daddy isn’t going to make things any better. You blew it. It happens. Acknowledge that, say “I’m sorry,” and move on.

Move on. That causes relational miracles.

These little principles work with other relationships, too. In dealing with your friends, do the same thing. And if you want to go really audacious, apologize to your boss for being mouthy. Or if you’re a boss, tell your employee “I’m sorry” when you’ve mishandled him or her in some way. It’s easy enough to say “it’s not personal, it’s business.” Well, friend, it is personal whether we want it to be or not. Act accordingly.

So keep those short accounts. Even when you don’t want to apologize and say “I’m sorry,” show some backbone. Have the strength and courage to humble yourself and admit you messed up.

It’s Matthew 5:25, right?

Settle matters quickly with your adversaries.

You’ll feel better. Promise.

Talk soon!

I don’t have many friends.

I’m not sure how you might interpret that … do you feel sorry for me? Do you identify with me? Is this so alien a thought that you think I should get some professional help?

Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s not like I have no friends. I do have some. Just not many.

I don’t have many friends because I couldn’t handle too many. I believe I have a capacity for real love. I am always telling myself to “love appropriately.”

Part of my temperament (4w5, Enneagram fans) is that I’ve always been insular. If I let you into my life, and if you are my friend, then, for better or worse, I’m all in. What a blessing! What a curse! I scary love my friends. That means I have to set boundaries to keep from depleting my soul. That means, too, that God has to often intervene in my friendships, or else I’ll try to give of myself when I’m all spent. Not good. And, overthinker that I am, I do often wonder, “Tony. Dude. Are you handling this relationship as you should?” Because if I don’t guard myself, I’m just really sure I get on people’s nerves, and to be at fault of ruining a lovely relationship. Dang. That thought terrifies me. (See 1 and 2, below.)

So I’m gonna invest myself in just a few. I love everybody with no reservations, but there aren’t that many I can go the full distance with. I hope you understand that. I’m okay if you don’t.

I don’t necessarily think in terms of “what I’m looking for” in a friend, but I do have things that I value.

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. (This is a skill I constantly work on, btw.)
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. Some of my favorite people are those who are just funny, and they aren’t trying to be.
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. Okay, you’ve made my whole freakin’ life just a little better.
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. Like I said, that is mostly by choice. It’s an introvert thing, and if you’re an innie like me, you know what I’m talking about.

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.

I’m not sure why social media isn’t called antisocial media.

Most everyone seems to agree that life is getting busier, crazier, and more frantic with each passing day. We’re bombarded by more information than we know how to process—news, ads, commercials, blogs, tweets, music, pics, and more ads. Crazier still is that we have more devices, programs, and apps than ever before to make life easier. 

 And unquestionably these new innovations help make our lives better. We can text with close friends halfway around the world and let them know we’re praying for them. Want to share pictures of our daughter’s birthday party with relatives thousands of miles away? Do that. We can check our 401k, order a pizza, or book a hotel at the beach. And yet with all the upsides, these conveniences we “can’t live without” create many unintended problems. 

We love technology and all it offers. But we also hate it.

We hate our dependence on it and how it causes us to get out of balance with what matters most to us. It’s antisocial media.

Although many factors contribute to why we hate it, I’m convinced it’s mostly because social media makes everything all about us. We’re sucked into measuring our lives by who follows us and how many online friends we have. We want to believe we’re more than the total number of clicks on our last post, but we still check to see how many we have. 

Oddly enough, however, the more we focus on ourselves, the less satisfied we feel. And the more we’re consumed with the things of this earth, the more we feel empty on the inside. 

The reason is simple. We were created for more—way more. Earth isn’t our home.

We were not created to be liked but to show love. We were not created to draw attention to ourselves but to give glory to God. Collecting followers isn’t or goal, but it is to follow Christ. Antisocial media can hinder that. 

Social media and technology are great. But it’s time to be honest about our struggles. And to regain control of the amazing tools that technology provides us. 

It’s time to put technology back in its place. Let’s be done with antisocial media, at least the way we’ve tended to use it.

It’s time to love God with our whole hearts. 

In the pursuit of fulfillment in life, technology and social media allow you to capture every moment along the way. You’re not only on the fast track to success, but you get to show selfies at each lap along the way. Which only confirms how up-to-the-nano-second cool you are. 

So get the biggest data plan you can, and collect wi-fi passwords at every stop. Check in at all the cool places. Share every inspirational thought you have, and every joke. Snap lots of pics. Get video clips, too, of course. And never stop uploading the whole show to the Cloud as you go. 

Post everything online for the whole world to see. Pile up Likes and Friends and Followers until it’s all just one frenzied blur. Hustle until your real life exceeds your dreams. And finally, once you’ve reached the summit, I can guarantee you this one thing: your longing for more never stops. See what I mean by antisocial media? Like the latest technology, your achievements are outdated overnight. 

Why? How could that be possible? 

Because you were not created for earth. You were created for eternity. And there is nothing on this earth that can ever satisfy that spiritual longing you feel inside—even if you can collect it all. 

Nothing. 

I’ve heard people say, “God makes a Christ-shaped void inside every person.” I remember that saying annoying me. I remember not understanding what they were talking about. But then one day I learned for myself why they said it: because it is absolutely true. Nothing outside of a living relationship with Christ can ever fill the emptiness of that ache inside your heart. 

Your scavenger hunt for success will never be enough. Christ is what you’re searching for. He is your source. He is your strength. God is your sustainer. He is your joy. He is your contentment. Jesus is your all and all. He’s everything that matters. 

When Christ is all you have, you’ll finally realize that Christ is all you need. 

Christ. Is. All. You. Need. 

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.

You can have hope. Don’t forget that. But being clingy can hurt you.

In your search for hope and encouragement, being clingy can make others miserable.

Some people take a perverse delight in being annoying. That’s not what I’m talking about. Rather, I’m talking about those who desperately reach out to others, perhaps in good faith and with good intentions, and once they get the attention they want, they simply won’t let go.

Here’s an example. There are plenty more, but I’ll start here. You’ll readily understand what I’m talking about. (And if this all sounds too much like any program on the CW, hang on. I’ll give you something more substantive in a bit.) Here’s a being clingy case study.

I’ve worked with teenage students for a lot of years. Kids spend those teenage years swimming in a sea of hormones. Their parents know it (we were all kids once, right?), their peers know it, and they know it.

The result? Romantic urges. A crazy, tsunami of desire to want to have a significant other. (Okay, this isn’t restricted to teenagers. But let me exploit my own example here.)

One scenario: A boy and girl start “talking.” Perhaps they were already friends. Then the talk escalates, each one probes the other trying to determine how they really feel, and they take the next step,

Lo and behold, they are now going together. The clouds part, the sun beams down, angels sing in chorus, and love reaches full bloom.

Then one of them messes a good thing up. That’s being clingy.

This is not the sole fault of one gender over the other. Clinginess is an equal-opportunity virus. What happens, typically, is that one party becomes obsessed over the other to the extent that the obsessed clinger won’t let the clingee have a life of their own. They want to know what they’re doing, who they’re with, and why are they thinking and acting the way they are.

Putting it succinctly, I’ll quote one line I heard from a 16-year-old girl to her soon-to-be-former boyfriend:

“You act like you own me.”

Know what I mean? Being clingy? But it can be an even more subtle unhealthy attachment. It might just be a tendency on the part of the clinger to want to spend every waking moment with the object of their affection. Love can be like that, but it can get, well, icky.

It is thoroughly unpleasant to be involved with someone that won’t give you the breathing space you need. This teen scenario is pretty obvious.

However – being clingy can manifest itself in other ways:

• A husband doesn’t want his wife to have a life that doesn’t involve him.
• A mom needs to know every aspect of her daughter’s life to the extent it becomes oppressive (can you say “helicopter?”)
• An employee consistently and obnoxiously kisses up to his boss for special favor.
• A student goes to great lengths to be the “teacher’s pet.”
• Someone plays the martyr card if they don’t feel like they’re appreciated.
• Someone depends on another for their sense of self-worth.
• Someone gets their identify from how others treat them or talk about them. So they act like chameleons, trying to be what they think others want them to be.

For me personally, I detest the thought that I might come across as emotionally needy. I don’t want to come across as some sort of invalid. Aggghhh.

My temperament lends itself to that, frankly. I don’t want to be the center of attention, but I still want to feel like I’m needed. That can manifest itself in  my lifelong quest to fix everything and anyone, whether they want fixing or not. I have been horrifically guilty of trying too hard. Being “all in” isn’t always a virtue.

What I’m learning in these sunset years is that there is nothing more pitiful than wanting something for someone worse than they want it for themselves. Listen to your Uncle Tony on this one: Don’t do that. That’s being clingy. Save yourself a boatload of grief. Don’t try to be the assistant to the Holy Spirit. Last time I checked, He’s the only one that can bring about eternal life change.

But I digress. I’ve said all that before.

There’s an element of codependency in being clingy. The clinger might be well-meaning, thinking he or she is being helpful and affirming, when in reality they are simply being annoying at best and repulsive at worse. It’s not a way to win friends and influence people.

So if you have had to deal with a clinger, you know how unpleasant and cloying that can be. You look for ways to put as much distance between you and them as you can. If you’re gracious and compassionate, you struggle to love them and shut them down at the same time. Sometimes you just have to put your mercy on hold and say, “You are just gonna need to stand down.” If they have a molecule of self-awareness and desire to do the right thing, they’ll understand, and maybe even do what you’ve asked. All will be well because both parties have learned and grown and the relationship is sweeter than ever.

There’s that. But. What if you’re the one who is being clingy? What if you’ve abandoned all decency and common sense and figuratively (if not literally!) say “What’s wrong? Don’t you love me? Don’t you appreciate me?”

I hope I’ve never been there. Maybe I have. Shame on me.

Maybe you have yourself. Maybe you knew what you were doing but felt powerless in the grip of some emotion.

I’ve wondered what puts us in that state. Here’s what I’ve decided:

We often demand of people what only God can give us.

We want encouragement, affirmation, strength, motivation, and many other like things. God can provide every one of them. Every one.

But when we look to others as our primary source of these things, we can wring them dry. That’s being clingy.

It’s okay to expect some things from people as long as you know they are human beings who thirst like you do. But they need an Infinite Well as much as you do.

Those close to you really want to help you and come alongside you. They’ll listen to you, pray for you, and do what they can to make things  better. The problem – and it’s a big one – comes when your dependency on them to meet those needs I mentioned above (and others) overrides your dependence on God. You try to pull from a secondary finite source, and regrettably it’s often someone you care for greatly.

If they’re honest, there may come a time when they have to say, “I got nuthin’.”

What a bad state. You realize you’ve asked them for something they aren’t able to give. You’ve become a clinger.

Others have let you down before. I’ve certainly been let down. But I can’t help but consider today how much of my being let down was because of me. It’s not necessarily because I deserved it. It might, however, be because I didn’t know how or when to turn to God completely rather than thinking someone could be a substitute for Him.

I know and believe that God uses other people in our lives. God’s so cool – so, so many times He has sent along just the right person at just the right time with just the right words to bring about sweet little relational miracles. I cherish that. People are gifts!

It’s when we look toward the gift instead of the Giver for our primary comfort and care that we mess up royally.

The key, methinks, is to learn to recognize when you are trying too hard, being clingy,  reaching out compulsively, and depending on a fellow struggler instead of the true Source of comfort. Love your people. Cherish those who will speak truth to you. But don’t let anyone become a substitute for the transforming Jesus dwelling inside you. It’s impossible to cling to Him too desperately.