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.

Today, you are about to embark on a deep and profound journey. It’s about a place most of us have been to – some of us more than once. It’s a messy place, filled with confusion, hurt, anger, regret, but also hope and growth. It’s the rocky terrain of broken relationships. This journey is not just about the heartache, but also about the redemption that comes after – forgiveness, reconciliation, and healing. And from our Christian faith, we know that with God, all things are possible.

Broken relationships are an unfortunate but real part of life. They can leave you feeling lost, shattered, and questioning your own self-worth. As we navigate through these feelings, it’s essential to remember that hope is never entirely lost, even in the darkest times. It’s never too late to start the process of healing and restoration. That’s where your journey begins.

And … we’re off. This is good stuff. It will help you. 

The Reality of Brokenness and The Hope in Christ

Relationships, like anything in this world, can fracture due to a variety of reasons – misunderstandings, betrayals, unmet expectations, or simply drifting apart. In these moments of heartache, it’s crucial to remember the message of Romans 8:28: 

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

No matter how grim or hopeless a situation may seem, God’s love and grace are always at work. Even in the valleys of despair, He is molding you, teaching you, and preparing you for better days.

Each situation is unique, but a common theme is the lack of communication and understanding. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? The conversations that never happened, the words left unsaid, the feelings left unexpressed – they all contribute to the breaking point.

Bummer.

The Path to Forgiveness

It’s time to pick up that first piece – Forgiveness. Now, this is a big one. I can almost hear you saying “Easier said than done!” And you’re right. Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting or condoning the hurt caused. It’s about freeing yourself from the hold that the past has on you. It’s about choosing to not let past hurts dictate your present or future. It’s not an event, it’s a process. But let’s remember, as followers of Christ, forgiveness is not optional; it’s a calling. Matthew 18:21-22 says, 

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.'”

Forgiveness does not erase the pain or condone the wrong, but it does break the chains of bitterness and resentment. It frees us from the prison of past hurts and allows you to move forward.

Read that last paragraph again. 

Reconciliation: The Bridge to Restored Relationships

Reconciliation is not always possible or even the best route in every situation. I’m mindful of what was once a great relationship I had with someone which just doesn’t seem to be salvageable. Man, that hurts.  But when it is possible, it’s like the bridge connecting two lands that were torn apart.

Remember, reconciliation isn’t about sweeping things under the rug. It’s about bringing issues to the surface, addressing them, and resolving them together. It’s about rebuilding trust, mending communication, and renewing the connection. It’s about acknowledging the past without being anchored to it. It’s a brave choice that requires a lot of courage, understanding, and patience.

Reconciliation, when possible and appropriate, is a beautiful testament to God’s transformative power in our relationships. 2 Corinthians 5:18-19 teaches us, 

“All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them.”

Reconciliation isn’t about ignoring past hurts, but rather, it’s about confronting them with grace, love, and humility. It requires honest communication, genuine repentance, and the rebuilding of trust.

Healing: Growth from the Ashes

Finally, we come to healing – the green shoots of hope sprouting from the ashes of a broken relationship. Healing, like forgiveness, is a process, not a destination. It’s the new dawn following the darkest of nights

Psalms 147:3 tells us, 

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” 

Healing may mean moving forward from a relationship that was beyond repair, or it may mean building a stronger, more understanding bond out of the fragments of a broken relationship. Either way, healing involves self-love, acceptance, and growth.

A key part of healing is recognizing the growth that comes from pain. Remember, you’re not the same person who started this journey. You’ve grown, you’ve learned, and you’ve become stronger.

James 1:2-4 encourages us,

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

The Promise of Hope

Relationships can break, and it can be devastating. But within that devastation lies the seed of hope. Hope for forgiveness, for reconciliation, and for healing. It’s not an easy journey, but it is one worth taking. It’s a journey of self-discovery, growth, and ultimately, of love.

In your journey, remember, you are not alone. You are surrounded by a community that supports you and walks with you, and above all, you are cherished by a God who turns your trials into triumphs.

So, pilgrim, even in the midst of the storm of a broken relationship, remember, there is always hope. You can find the strength to move forward. This process, albeit challenging, brings you closer to God, allows you to grow in His grace, and reminds you of the unfailing love and mercy of our Creator.

Stay blessed, and keep hope alive!

“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 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.

The Fixin’ Place. Doesn’t that sound like somewhere you’d like to be?

Check it out here. 

I believe we are all broken people. We come into this world with the absolute likelihood that we’ll face issues that can wreck us.

What if there were a place you could go for healing, i.e., the fixin’ place?

I got to thinking about that a while ago. And, because my mind works in such a convoluted way, that simple thought gave birth to a book, a novel, which is now available.

It’s called The Fixin’ Place. Shocker, right? And it’s available on Amazon, in paperback and on Kindle. You may be able to read it for free on Kindle, if you’re a part of the Kindle Unlimited program. But if not, I’m reducing the price for the next week or so from $4.99 to .99.

I’ve been writing since I was a little bitty guy. My classmates from elementary school on up will attest to that. I was constantly writing short stories and would read them to any willing victims in the bandroom or wherever. I lost just about everything I’d ever written in longhand in a flood in my hometown of Elba, Alabama.

So I’ve tinkered and dabbled and scribbled off and on over the years, and finally, some years ago, I wrote a novel, Reign of Silence. It kind of galumphed along for a while until I made it available on Kindle. I’ll be danged that if within the first week it was available on Kindle it more than tripled the sales I’d had in paperback. That was a for-sure eye opener. I love the heft and feel and smell of a “real” book, but what I learned from that is that content is king, no matter how it’s delivered. Still, I love my visits to the library.

Back to The Fixin’ Place.

It’s not a sequel or prequel to Reign of Silence, although it’s placed in the same fictional town of St. Helena, Alabama. Here’s your cover copy:

Can death be postponed? Or even reversed? Are supernatural healings possible? If an individual had the ability to heal, would there ever be a time when using that gift would be wrong? Does all healing come from God, or can Satan perform counterfeit signs, wonders, and even healings? Thomas Alexander, a 14-year-old boy growing up in the small south Alabama town of St. Helena in 1968, is faced with a series of incidents that cause him to confront these very questions. A new high school teacher, Silas Shepherd, moves to St. Helena and shows more than casual interest in Thomas’ recently widowed mother. It becomes apparent that the charming and winsome Shepherd is not all that he seems to be – elements of a shrouded past and current fixation on the Alexander family trouble Thomas.

Thomas’ rock is his grandmother Lois, who supposedly has the biblical gift of healing – her home is known to townspeople as “the fixin’ place.” So when Shepherd is diagnosed with cancer, Lois Alexander has the opportunity to attempt to cure him. From the story’s first introduction of Silas Shepherd, to the gradual discovery of the truth about him, until the final revelation of Shepherd’s generations-old relationship with the Alexander family and the shocking yet redemptive finale, The Fixin’ Place is a story to both cherish and fear.

That’s a pretty fair synopsis.

I was thinking about that opening statement – can death be postponed? Or even reversed? That’s intriguing. As a person of faith, I recognize that scripturally that death was reversed on more than one occasion. There are, of course, also plenty of accounts of Jesus raising people from the dead, and even more incidences of Him healing others. Do those kinds of miracles happen today?

That’s where all this began. With The Fixin’ Place, I wanted to explore that in a fictional way.

I’ve had writing courses in college, and sometimes they come across as too rote and routine. (I won’t try to make a case that I’m an “artist” and, as such, not bound by tradition and rules [see Dead Poet’s Society for further reference.]) I just like telling a story, and I only have my own sensibilities for direction. Where I may get weird is that I don’t necessarily write with an end in mind. I just have an idea of the story, put my characters in that situation, and just start writing. I’m as intrigued to see what happens as the future reader, because I don’t know how it’s going to end.

That’s kind of freaky. When my mojo’s really working, it’s like I’m just observing what’s going on and trying to get it all in writing. Maybe that’s common among authors. I just don’t plot heavily … I don’t want it to feel plotted.

Birth.

When I was writing Reign of Silence, I was able to write about two-thirds of it in a week. There were some folks in our church that had a farmhouse and were kind enough to let me borrow it for a week. I wrote in a fit. It scared me senseless a couple of times … a couple of nights I barely slept because I heard every noise in the house. And it rattled Teresa when I’d call her after a particularly frenzied writing session to tell her “you’re not going to believe what just happened.” Creepy, yes?

The Fixin’ Place was much the same. There are a handful of passages that I sure didn’t see coming.

Now it’s been loosed on the world, and I wanted to share it with you.

If you’re so inclined, it’s available on sale for this next week on Amazon. I happen to like it (and I don’t always like my handiwork.) I love these kids in it – it’s funny. While I didn’t intend for it to plant so squarely in the tradition of “coming of age” stories, it has. I wasn’t trying consciously to emulate the vibe of books and movies like Stranger Things, It, Stand By Me, The Goonies, etc., but that’s what’s happened. (I’d much rather it feel like To Kill a Mockingbird, but since I’m a mere mortal and not Harper Lee, I’ll have to be content with where it landed.) Actually, it’s closest antecedent is an Alfred Hitchcock movie from 1943, Shadow of a Doubt. That was Hitch’s favorite movie, and it was written by Thornton Wilder, best known for Our Town. At least I borrow from good stuff.

I’d love for you to hang out with Thomas and his pals. He’s full of adolescent angst, but you’ll like him anyway. Hop over to Amazon and get to know them. And, if you want the paperback, order it. If you like, I’ll send you a signed personalized bookplate for you to put inside the cover.

So, that’s The Fixin’ Place. I would be honored if you’d take a look.

I hope I never get to the place where I take friends for granted. What good are friends, anyway?

I have a gazillion or so acquaintances. There is a significantly smaller percentage of those I call friends. Then there is a scant handful of folks I would consider true friends. What good are they?

Lord knows I can be negligent of them. It’s not because of some sinister design, of wanting to push people away. It comes more from a sense of self-protection. Or I just forget to keep up with them. And, to my everlasting grief, I tend to be all or nothing. Either I benignly neglect you, or I’m obnoxiously all-in.

For instance – if you’re my friend, and I reach out to you, then you can be assured that I’ve let you be a crucial part of a tiny circle. That’s by personal design. (And, candidly, if you’re in that circle and I reach out to you and you blow me off, I won’t love you any less, but I’m done.)

I want friends in my life who will have those rich, convoluted, dense conversations with me. Or not; sometimes it’s nice to share time together in silence. It just depends. I’m just not sure of what it depends on.

I don’t feel that I need a lot of friends. Just a few suit me. I like having plenty of folks around I have an affinity for, but to invest myself in someone who is only interested in shallowness? Uh-uh. I don’t have the energy or capacity for that. I’ll smile politely, and be congenial. That’s as far as it will go.

I’m guessing you have your own criteria that dictates what kind of friends you want or need. I just puked mine all over you. You can come up with your own.

I would say this: We were created social animals. We’re part of a tribe. How that works out in real-life terms for you depends on your makeup. I don’t think you need to apologize for that, or pretend to be something you aren’t. You just be. I don’t know that being a total hermit is ideal, but again, to thine ownself be true.

Just don’t overthink things (which is exactly what I’m doing right now. Ack.)

Rather than letting this be a passive blog that you read and toss aside, would you accept a little assignment from me? You can do this in your head, of course, but it might be informative for you to grab some paper and a pen.

I made myself a list – these are 10 traits I value in my friends. This gets back to my “What good are friends, anyway?”question.

1. Loyalty. I don’t have a lot of use for those who’d ditch me, unless I deserved to be ditched. I want folks who are supportive, encouraging, and at least attempt to be understanding.
2. Sense of humor. You either have this one or you don’t. I want folks who can laugh at themselves and their own absurdities. If you take yourself too seriously, you’re gonna annoy me. And as awful as the world can be these days, you gotta admit that some things that people get all worked up about are actually pretty funny.  Even absurd. (Maybe this is an “eye of the beholder” thing, so keep your hate mail to a minimum.)
3. Compassion. Your default attitude should be “grace and mercy.” Care, and care deeply. Be empathetic. Don’t pretend that you care when you really don’t. Have a cause, and be patient and understanding with those who don’t share the same passions. They have passions of their own. Don’t devalue them – and don’t let them devalue you, either. I think it’s a matter of seeing the world as God sees it.
4. Understanding. That also has a lot to do with tolerance. Be willing to say, “I see.” Going back to our hard-wiring, we all have different world views. Here’s a trait I want in a friend: Be able to try to understand other viewpoints before trying to explain your own. Look: I have some stances that are non-negotiables. If you try to change them, I will give you a polite hearing and not devalue you, even if I think you’re an idiot. (That’s a joke. Sorta.) There is still room in society, to some extent, to have a “live and let live” attitude. At least try to understand where the other person is coming from. That doesn’t mean you have to accept their views. Just listen, even when hollering might be more fun for you. (A caveat: if you are a Christian, and are dealing with a brother or sister in spiritual or scriptural error, don’t forget we’re accountable to each other.)
5. A “ministry of presence.” I don’t know where I first heard that term, but I love it. If you’ve ever been in a situation facing death or a critical illness in someone else, you may have wondered, “What am I supposed to say?” I mean, you don’t want to make things worse. That’s where this “ministry of presence” thing comes in. Just being there, even being silent, is always the right thing. I want that in my friends, even if I’m well. Just be there. You don’t have to keep me engaged in conversation.
6. Honesty without cruelty. Yes, please, be honest with me. But do it in the context of loving me. If I’m wrong, I need to know that. Just don’t be mean. Honesty is always a virtue, but it’s not a club to beat someone up with. Just because you can say something doesn’t mean you have to. And if your exercise in honesty is designed to make some point, and to make you feel superior, your motives are screwed up.
7. Godly. I think this should have the first position in my list (even though they’re not in any particular order.) If you don’t have Jesus, then I can’t share the most important thing in my life with you. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. It just means that there is a missing component that will keep our relationship from being as rewarding and complete as it could be.
8. Patient with me. I could camp on this one for days. I have this well-developed ability to be awkward – say things that I regret, or that don’t make sense, or simply look and act uncomfortable. Just ride that out with me, okay? I mean well. My motives are mostly pure. But if I talk like I’m a cross between a babbling two-year-old and a stroke victim, you’re going to have to understand that.
9. Lets me be authentic. I don’t want to have to tiptoe around you. I want to be able to be real. I can sense a phony a mile away. Don’t ever lie to me. I’ll know it, and you’ll know that I know it, even if I don’t call you out. Being real is one of the highest virtues. I want you around me if you’ll give me that freedom.
10. Forgiving. For the life of me, I can’t find a loophole in this forgiveness command from God. You always forgive. Always. It doesn’t mean that you approve, nor does it mean you have to maintain an intimate relationship with someone who has wronged you. Just forgive. And forgive me – I can assure you, if I’m your friend, there will be times when I will disappoint you.

Now. Go make a list of your ten. I think it’ll be an eye-opening exercise.

What good are friends, anyway?

God sends them.

Allow God to give you your friends. The friends He sends your way will be there when you yearn for those long talks – for listening to you when you’re breaking down, during the days that are struggles and the nights are unusually long.

Those friends bring the sun when you’re drowning in the rain.

Your comments, as always, are encouraged and welcomed.