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

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

Be blessed. I know I was.

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

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

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

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

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

Where’s your faith? Mine is trying to play hide-and-seek.

Faith is an incredibly powerful force that can restore hope in the most challenging of times. The Bible teaches us that faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). When we put our faith in God and trust in His plan, we can find the strength to persevere and overcome even the most difficult of situations.

There’s your clinical assessment of faith. Now. How can having faith be worked out in real-life terms?

I’ll admit that I woke up this morning and took a look at one of my aggregate news sites before getting in any Jesus time. That little exercise might have just skewed my whole day. Instead of basking in the love of Jesus, I saw – as if I didn’t know – just how awful this temporal world is. 

I thought that after we emerged from the death shroud of COVID, things would be better. Silly me. It’s still bad out there.

Faith, as Hebrews stated, is all about things we don’t see – the “not yet.” That encourages me, because I’m not too enthralled with the “right now.”

Faith involves trusting in God’s plan, and that requires that we surrender our own will and desires to Him. It means acknowledging that we may not always understand why things happen, but we trust that God has a purpose and a plan that is greater than our own.

God has a universal plan for all of creation. That’s good, but what lights my fire today is knowing that He has an individual, customized plan just for me.

But that “surrender” thing. That’s what trips me up. It’s because I can look at the world, internalize what I see, and end up a gibbering wreck. To what end?

Compound that with a loss of faith in other people. Look. I know folks will let you down and disappoint you. That reality doesn’t take the edge off the hurt, though. There are people I love, respect, and who walk with Jesus. Yet, in the last two or three years, their words and actions would lead me to believe that they’ve looked at their circumstances, evaluated the state of the world, and then factored God totally out of the essence of their lives. They speak as though things are hopeless, that people are beyond redemption, and then comfort themselves by lashing out at others. 

I don’t unfriend those people, but sometimes I want to avoid them. I’m not one to hang out frequently with folks who bleed my spirit dry. Just being honest, here.

Back to surrender: It occurs to me that what I’m speaking of above has a lot to do with me looking at temporal things and people, and then not letting God have all of me. I hold on to what I can see, which is turning out to be a moronic strategy. It’s not working for me. My faith has to be in what I can’t see.

This level of surrender and trust can be difficult, especially when we are faced with challenges that seem insurmountable. But it is precisely in these moments that our faith can be the most powerful.

I’m finding some grace from God by revisiting some familiar scriptures.

God can use even the difficult things in our lives for His glory and our ultimate good. For example, in the story of Joseph in Genesis, Joseph was sold into slavery by his own brothers and spent years in prison, but God used those difficult circumstances to elevate Joseph to a position of power in Egypt and ultimately save his family from famine.

When we trust in God’s plan, we can find hope even in the darkest of situations. In the book of Job, Job faced unimaginable loss and suffering, but even in the midst of his pain, he declared, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him” (Job 13:15). Job’s faith in God did not prevent him from experiencing pain, but it did give him the strength to persevere and ultimately be restored.

Trusting in God’s plan also requires patience. We may not always see immediate results or understand why certain things are happening, but we can trust that God is working behind the scenes. Psalm 27:14 says, “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”

One of the most powerful examples of faith in action is found in the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the book of Daniel. These three men refused to bow down to a golden statue and were thrown into a fiery furnace as a result. But even in the midst of the flames, they declared, “Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not (emphasis mine), be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up” (Daniel 3:17-18). Their faith in God’s ability to save them did not waiver, but even if He did not, they still trusted in His plan.

Let me give you eight bullets, some nuggets you can take away. These are simple and self-evident, but maybe basics are what we need:

1. Pray: Start by talking to God and sharing your feelings and concerns with Him. Ask Him for guidance and strength to trust in His plan, even when it’s difficult.
2. Study the Bible: Spend time reading and meditating on God’s word. Look for scriptures that speak to your situation and remind you of God’s faithfulness and promises.
3. Surrender: Surrender your will and desires to God. Acknowledge that His plan may be different from yours, but trust that His plan is perfect and good.
4. Practice Patience: Recognize that God’s timing may not be the same as yours. Practice patience and trust that He is working behind the scenes, even when you don’t see immediate results.
5. Look for the good: Look for the good in every situation, even when it’s difficult. Ask God to show you His purpose and plan, even in the midst of pain and suffering.
6. Connect with others: Connect with others who share your faith and can offer encouragement and support. Share your journey and ask for prayers.
7. Keep a gratitude journal: Write down things you are thankful for each day, no matter how small. Focusing on the positive can help shift your perspective and restore your hope.
8. Serve others: Look for opportunities to serve others and make a positive impact in their lives. Serving others can help you shift your focus from your own problems and remind you of the power of God’s love.

Trusting in God’s plan is a journey and may not happen overnight. But with consistent effort and practice, you can learn to trust in God’s plan and restore your hope in even the most difficult of situations.

Talk later.

Another Mass Shooting, Where Do We Start? Lament.

NOTE: This was published by The Gospel Coalition August 8, 2019. I had written what I thought was a good blog, but I just can’t go with it. I hope I’ve done the proper crediting of my source. It was timely then, and timely now.

AUGUST 8, 2019  |  MARK VROEGOP

Over the weekend, two mass shootings shocked the nation’s conscience and opened another cultural wound.

The details are still emerging. Two gunmen, in El Paso and Dayton, slaughtered 31 people. In Dayton, nine people lost their lives, and it appears that the shooter was obsessed with mass shootings and violence. He even developed a hit list of religious and political groups.

In El Paso, 22 people were killed. Given a “manifesto” posted online, the shooter’s motivations appear to be more apparent—and appalling. He targeted Hispanics and espoused racist and white supremacist views.

We will eventually know more. In the meantime, there will be political finger-pointing. Various solutions will be offered. The clash of ideas and worldviews will become apparent. And the gravitational pull toward our respective “corners” will be strong.

What Can We Say?

Amid the trauma and tears, how should the church talk about this? Silence sends an unhelpful message, especially to our minority brothers and sisters when they consider the shooting in El Paso. However, the uncertainty of the moment creates an understandable caution.

How do we weep with those who weep when the fog of a national crisis descends?

Christians can start by lamenting. We can use the historic prayer language of sorrow to talk to God about the messy grief we feel. When the psalmist’s life was hurtful and confusing, he reached out to God in prayer, laid out his pain, pleaded for help, and renewed his trust in God.

The Bible is full of this kind of prayer language. More than a third of the psalms are laments. No wonder! The sorrows of life are many.

When tragedy strikes, when the stakes are high, and when it’s important—for many reasons—to express our grief, prayers in pain that lead to trust can be comforting and redemptive.

Lament for Mass Shootings

As I’ve pondered the shootings in El Paso and Dayton, here is my lament.

How long, O Lord!

God, we watch the news in disbelief as we battle despair. In El Paso and Dayton, 31 image-bearers—people who reflected your glory—were killed in yet another mass shooting. We know our world is broken. We know evil is real. We know the loss of life was not limited to El Paso and Dayton this weekend. But the scale of this senseless and wicked assault on human life is shocking and troubling. It causes us to turn to you.

We lament the presence of sin in the world and its destructive effects. We mourn the loss of life that will create empty spaces at dinner tables, birthday parties, and graduations. We weep with family members whose lives will never be the same.

We lament the devaluing of human life and its bitter fruit in our culture. We mourn the demonic rage that would lead to the slaughter of men, women, and children. We weep with El Paso and Dayton in the shattering of their peace.

We lament the wicked ideologies behind these shootings and their devastating results. We mourn beliefs that view people as our enemies because they are different, feelings of prideful superiority over others, and the use of violence to advance a wicked agenda. In particular we weep with our brothers and sisters who deeply feel the targeting of Hispanics and the white supremacist ideology behind the El Paso shooting.

Jesus, we need your help! We call on you to give us comfort and hope in our sorrow. We ask you to give us grace to care for one another during these volatile and divisive times. We plead with you to make churches a place of refuge—a shelter of Christ-exalting, neighbor-loving, compassion-giving people. We beg you to change hearts immersed in deep loneliness, superiority, rage, and hatred. We cry out for the ending of all actions and ideologies that do not fit with your kingdom.

Our King, we thank you for our city and national leaders. Tragedies create important conversations about future solutions. And they also surface deep divisions. Help them to work together for the common good of our communities and for the peace of our nation. In their words and actions, give them wisdom and grant them grace to model the kind of leadership that fits with your heart.

National tragedies remind us about the depth of our collective depravity and our need for a Savior. Our solutions will never be enough to eradicate the sinfulness embedded in our lives and our land. We need you, Jesus, to save and change us—both as individuals and also as a culture. We long for the day when our faith will be sight. We feel the urgency of the need for your return.

Until then we look to you through the tears.

Hope of Redemption

Christians know that our world is broken. We read in our Bibles that the entire creation groans (Rom. 8:22) and that sin has created the curse of death (Rom. 6:23). But we also know the hope of redemption through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 5:21). Christians long for the day when all tears will be wiped away (Rev. 21:4). We know a day is coming when demonic ideologies and mass shootings will never again threaten the peace of this world.

But until then, we lament.

We grieve the killing of image-bearers. We mourn the hard-heartedness that hurts innocent victims. And we weep over ideologies that broadcast anti-God lies from the pit of hell.

A lament doesn’t solve all the problems. It’s never enough by itself. More can and should be done.

But when a tragedy strikes, and we’re not sure what to say, “How long, O Lord?” is a good place to start.

Negative self-talk? You prone to that? Let’s work on it.

As Christians, we believe that we are created in the image of God and that God loves us unconditionally. However, sometimes we forget this truth and allow negative self-talk to take over our minds. This is a pretty nasty deal. Negative self-talk can be incredibly destructive, holding us back from pursuing our dreams, preventing us from taking risks, and robbing us of our joy and peace.

But here’s the good news: we don’t have to live with negative self-talk. By recognizing when negative thoughts are taking over our minds, replacing them with positive ones, and trusting in God’s promises, we can get rid of negative self-talk and live the joyful, peaceful, and fulfilling lives that God intended for us.

Recognizing Negative Self-Talk

The first step in getting rid of negative self-talk is recognizing when it’s taking over our minds. Negative self-talk can take many forms, such as telling ourselves we’re not good enough, smart enough, or talented enough. It can also take the form of a nagging feeling that we’ll never measure up to our own or other people’s expectations. Whatever form it takes, negative self-talk can be incredibly destructive.

One way to recognize negative self-talk is to pay attention to the thoughts we have throughout the day. When we notice a negative thought, we can pause and ask ourselves if it’s true. Often, we’ll find that the negative thought is based on a lie, rather than on reality. You’ll have to come up with your own list of triggers, but it’s easy to lie to yourself and believe what you’re saying.

Keeping It Positive

Once we recognize negative self-talk, we can take steps to replace it with positive thoughts that align with God’s truth. Notice I’m talking about God’s truth and not “truth” from another source. I’m an absolute truth kind of guy … truth, by its nature, can’t contradict itself. I’m talking about truth with no mixture of error, and that’s from God alone. We can do this by finding Bible verses or positive affirmations that counteract the negative thought. Here are a few examples:

If we’re struggling with the belief that we’re unlovable, we can remind ourselves of the truth in Romans 8:38-39, which says, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

If we’re feeling like we’re not good enough, we can remind ourselves of the truth in Philippians 4:13, which says, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”

And if we’re feeling overwhelmed and anxious, we can remind ourselves of the truth in Matthew 6:34, which says, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Practicing Positive Self-Talk

Replacing negative self-talk with positive thoughts is just the first step. The next step is to practice positive self-talk consistently. This means intentionally choosing to speak and think positively about ourselves, even when it’s hard. We can do this by creating a list of positive affirmations and Bible verses that we can turn to whenever negative self-talk creeps in. Here are a few examples – some of God’s greatest hits, if you will:

• I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).
• I am a child of God (John 1:12).
• I am more than a conqueror through Christ (Romans 8:37).
• I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13).
• I am loved with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3).

Trusting in God’s Promises

Finally, we can trust in God’s promises as we work to get rid of negative self-talk. We can pray for strength, wisdom, and guidance, knowing that God is with us.

Chances are that I haven’t shared a single thing that you didn’t know. The goal, I’d say, is to close that gap between what you believe and actually do. You can’t wait until you feel like taking action to end what’s hurting you. Act first. Your feelings will catch up.

I hope these helped. You are harder on yourself than anyone else is. Embrace what God has done and what He thinks about you. His opinion matters. Yours doesn’t.

If you’re going to embrace self-pity, you might as well embrace misery.

It’s a funny thing. Some people simply seem to enjoy feeling bad for themselves. Respectfully, if that’s true of you, I have a simple question: How has self-pity helped you improve your life?

I get it. I do. This is one of those therapeutic blogs I need to write to myself from time to time.

Part of my self-pity grows from a Christian worldview. Huh?

In full disclosure … when I’m in a funk, and struggling with post-concussion syndrome, a migraine, or just low, self-pity rears its ugly head. It’s like getting thrown into a well, looking up at that little circle of daylight, and wondering how I’m going to get out.

Self-pity can make you feel like a failure at everything. Not good.

So, as a Christian, there shouldn’t be any room for self-pity. Problem is, it’s my faith (or lack of it) that moves me in that direction.

What an awful irony. The more intimate I become with God, the more aware I am of just how sinful I am. I realize that I am selfish, self-centered, and just what a lowlife I can be.

I struggle around my peers who seem to be sailing along in their Christian walk. That pity I have is because I haven’t reached that glorious place of a bulletproof Christian life. My head knows that everyone struggles; my heart says I shouldn’t be struggling like I am.

I’d love to feel like I’m awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way. That’s shallow, but I’d love to have folks believe I’ve got it together 24/7/365. I am aware that folks aren’t that easily suckered, but, hey, you gotta have aspirations, right?

It might be that, like me (God forbid), this self-pity thing is camped out on your back porch, ready to pounce when you leave the house. You may be feeling pretty awful about your sin and haven’t been as repententant as you should be. You want to be better for God, but it all comes back to you and how you’re feeling. There’s something out there that can move you out of self-pity, but it’s elusive, and just out of reach.

What’s a believer to do about self-pity?

As always, the Bible speaks. Check out this ancient script – it’s 2 Corinthians 10:3-6:

³ For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. ⁴ The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. ⁵ We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. ⁶ And we will be ready to punish every act of disobedience, once your obedience is complete.

Paul wants us to take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ. In the context of self-pity, that means that any self-pitying thoughts are of us and not of Him. He doesn’t see us as low-life bottom feeders. He thinks we’re pretty wonderful. The key is to see ourselves as He sees us, right?

Here’s good stuff, from 1 Corinthians 1:26-31:

²⁶ Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. ²⁷ But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. ²⁸ God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, ²⁹ so that no one may boast before him. ³⁰ It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. ³¹ Therefore, as it is written: “Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.”

This is some powerful ju-ju here. What’s crazy about it is that God encourages low self-esteem.

Look at that. We are not wise, not influential, not nobly born, we are weak, we are despised. That might be what we want to beat ourselves up about – those are traits of a loser, right? – but God turns that idea on its head.

The kicker is that God doesn’t want us to have a higher self-esteem, but instead a higher God-esteem. The focus is on Him, not us. You aren’t amazing, He is. You aren’t flawless; He is. You’re weak. He is strong.

We tend to obsess about ourselves, which is normal, because we spend a lot of time with ourselves. The thought is to put that self-pity aside because it simply doesn’t accomplish anything. That comes from a shift in focus – less of me, more of Him.

I love this. When it comes to self pity, the truth is that we can and should be mindful of our salvation every day. Every time you blow it, every time you don’t measure up to your self-imposed standards, God comes alongside us and says, “C’mon, pal. Once more, you need to be reminded that it’s not about you. I am present and active in your life. I’m not buying this self-pity stuff. You don’t have to feel that way, because I’ve given you all of grace. I saved you. You didn’t do anything to earn it, and you sure don’t deserve it. I’ve done this because I love you. Why self-pity? I’m all you need.”

Maybe you are the worst of sinners. But quit whining. You may not be all that in and of yourself, but you can celebrate God, Who came to you, undeserving sinner that you are, and adopted you into His family.

You don’t have to drown in self-pity and think only of yourself. God thinks about you all the time.

Talk later!

Sometimes I run across something that is so meaningful, so provocative, and so timely that I simply stand back in awe.

What I’m sharing today is by way of Trevin Wax – one of the most first-class intellects I’ve ever experienced, and who is a joy to be around.

I was in a meeting with him a couple of years ago, and he shared with us some musings from Clyde S. Kilby.  I wasn’t familiar with this gentleman, but I’ve since learned that he was an American writer and English professor, best known for his scholarship on the Inklings, especially J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. Kilby was born in Johnson City, Tennessee, and died in Columbus, Mississippi. That makes him one of my people.

If you know much about me, you’ll understand that this got my attention real quick.

Kilby wrote ten resolutions for mental and spiritual flourishing. I wish I had a fraction of his insight and writing ability.

I’m pleased to share them with you. Be challenged, and be blessed! It’s far better than anything I could have done on my own today.

1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.

2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end. I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death when he said: “There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing.”

3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.

4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.

5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.

6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their “divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic” existence.

7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the “child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder.”

8. I shall follow Darwin’s advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.

9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, “fulfill the moment as the moment.” I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.

10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

Talk soon. Comments welcome!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until I screwed up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These days, I’m fixated on helping broken Christians feel better.

It’s tempting to talk about “in this season of life,” or “my calling,” or other noble-sounding catch phrases. These can become cliche real fast. Seriously, though, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I’m supposed to be when I grow up. Helping broken Christians feel better might be part of that equation.

This is all pretty personal. Maybe even therapeutic, and this is my blog, but you don’t have to indulge me. See you next week!

Otherwise … I’m fixin’ to barf all over you.

When I speak of broken Christians, I’m not talking about when God breaks you. That is a separate issue.

I’ve dealt with this before in this blog. Just as a brief takeaway, understand that no matter how much God loves us, no matter what He wants to do for us or how earnestly He seeks to bless us, He cannot do anything with a person who closes his heart in pride, refusing to bend and break.

God has all sorts of ways to turn us into broken Christians – it might be through some soul-shattering crisis, or a gradual erosion of life. I’d suggest that brokenness from God is to be expected. Ancient script says that “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, NIV).

The brokenness I’m speaking of here is the brokenness experienced when, frankly, Christianity isn’t working or delivering for someone.

That sounds sacrilegious, but it’s the reality many live. Maybe even you.

Annoying commercial break. Unless you’ve been under a rock, ignored me, or unfriended me, you know that I’ve developed a heart-driven course dealing with this very thing, Return to Wholeness. The discounted “tuition” ended on September 20, and when it’s officially opened to the public soon it’ll be at the fair market value price.

If you’re interested, though, I can channel Don Vito Corleone and give you “the offer you can’t refuse.” I’ve worried much about coming across like some sleazy salesman, but I’ve come to realize that sales equal service – I’m providing you and others with the very best God has given me. It’s for broken Christians, or those who have broken Christians in their lives.

Here’s the link if you’ve missed it, skimmed by it, or had no idea what I was up to. Significantly, what I’ve discovered is that while the course isn’t for everyone because many are at a good place spiritually, they know someone who isn’t. I’ve encouraged folks to gift the course to someone, or at least pass the link along. 

There was also a perfectly lovely article written about the course and me that you can read here for extra credit.

Enough said. Moving ahead to your regularly scheduled programme.

I always thought, on some level, that Christians weren’t supposed to be broken. We’re supposed to be well and whole, right? When times are hard, we pray, knowing God is there to hear our prayers and respond in a way that glorifies Him.

We say things like “the joy of the Lord is my strength,” and mean it because it’s scriptural.

But we don’t feel it. We join the ranks of broken Christians who are fruitless, defeated, and wondering if this walk with Jesus they’re experiencing is what they signed up for.

Honestly – there have been days when I didn’t know if God won, or Satan won. All I knew is that I lost.

You cheered up yet? I got more.

I’ve never been in a crisis of faith place where I doubted the presence of God, or even the love of God. I have wondered what the heck He was up to, and why He was allowing me to live in such an all-consuming funk.

You might identify. It’s like the bottom of your spiritual life has fallen out. You feel like you need to throw yourself on the mercy of God. Maybe you’ve tried.

Or – gasp! – you’ve wrestled with things like this:

• You used to have daily quiet times, now all you can manage is the occasional Bible reading, and it feels rote and hollow.
• You used to have it all together, now the least little thing puts you in a tailspin.
• You used to do so much good church and kingdom work, now all you do is try to avoid it.
• You used to be so balanced and healthy, and now you’re just a step away from being going carnival-ape crazy.
• You used to help so many other people, now all your bandwidth is used up  by just trying to get through the day.

Can I simply say you aren’t alone?

Check out Elijah, or David, or even Simon Peter. You are going to find them in some perfectly wretched states. But they didn’t stay broken forever.

I’ve thought a lot about all this, and it comes back to my original statement: I want to help broken Christians feel better.

At the end of this blog*, after my sign-off and below the photo, you can see some of my testimony and what has moved me to the space I’m occupying now. Is this a calling for me? I honestly feel it is.

It’s still a work in progress, no doubt. What encourages me so is that, even at age 66, God moves and inspires and equips me. He’ll equip you, too. As I’ve stated so many times, the reason you and I aren’t dead is because we haven’t completed what God put us here to do in the first place. Encouraging, yes?

So I’ll keep developing courses. I’ll be a full-on pest, because I’ve found I have to be brazen to get folks to even look at what the Lord has provided me. People are busy, and obviously what I’ve offered is a lot more important to me than it is others, just because I know what’s in it. I’m trying to get over feeling like a snake-oil salesman. I’m getting there.

I’ll keep writing this blog. It has been an encouragement to a lot of folks.

I’ll keep curating that Transformational Encouragement group on Facebook. We have over a thousand members, there for each other.

As long as there is breath in me, I’ll finish well because I know I’ve helped broken Christians feel better.

Talk soon! Comments welcome.

Tony

*MY REAL CREDENTIALS

In June of 2018 I suffered a nasty concussion. At first it wasn’t too big of a deal – my eye swelled shut, I had stitches, but it all seemed pretty routine. CT scans and x-rays showed no head or brain damage, but I did have three broken ribs. About a week after the injury, I started getting headaches on the opposite side of my head from the impact site. Overnight I developed a sensitivity to light and sound. There were some cognitive issues – it’s like my brain was shrouded in fog. 

Worst of all was the deepest, darkest emotional funk you can imagine. Anxiety, depression, and what I characterized as “a sense of impending doom” became realities. It was/is perfectly awful.

After another round of scans and x-rays, my internist – whom I love much – told me I had post-concussion syndrome (PCS).

No, I’d never heard of it either. All my symptoms were textbook. The cure? Time. I was to be patient. It would “take time.” (I’ve heard that “take time” phrase so many times that I’m afraid the next time I hear it I’m gonna punch someone in the throat.) He also put me on a killer combo of depression/Anxiety meds. 

Apparently PCS victims are prone to suicidal thoughts. Praise God that hasn’t been an issue. Since then, I’ve been to a chiropractor, I’ve tried acupuncture (which was actually pretty fun, but it didn’t really help), and talked to a counselor. All well and good. I’ve also been to a neurologist, and that’s been very encouraging. I’d had a migraine headache 24/7 – that was taking its toll – but again, she’s tinkered and experimented with several drugs and danged if the headache is only maybe three times a month. It’s not constant, and when it comes it hits with a vengeance, but it’s so much more manageable.

This incident – which has come in many ways to define my life – comes on the heels of the darndest year ever. Our house flooded and had to basically be gutted; we were displaced for seven months. I had surgery for two benign parathyroid tumors that were messing with my head. I was diagnosed with cancer – renal cell carcinoma. The upside of that one was that the doc went in, got the tumor and a piece of kidney, and I was good to go with no chemo or radiation or any of those nasty things. And our beloved ancient Boston terrier, Teddy, went to doggie heaven.

Why am I sharing this? Simple. My story is your story.

We all deal with challenges, do we not? life is full of joy and heartache in equal measure. Everyone faces something. Many people respond to life with despair, or at least a sense of hopelessness. Well, I am here to stand before you and declare that hopelessness is not an option.

I’m convinced that a huge chunk of our problems are caused by us being unable or unwilling to be quiet and still – to simply settle down.

Our default position in life is to be busy. We’re all busy, right? We have stuff that needs doing. We feel vaguely guilty if we aren’t doing something. We look at people who aren’t doing things and assume they’re lazy or unambitious.

Some even take pride in their busyness. It’s an issue of going to work, getting kids to places they need to be, voluntarily cramming days full of activity, and approaching life like a hummingbird in a hurricane. Gotta go. Gotta do. You can’t settle down.

Maybe this is a 21st century thing. Maybe it’s a uniquely western culture thing. Settle down? No way. There’s too much that needs doing. 

Here’s the question: do you take time to think? Do you self-evaluate? Do you work hard at being busy so that you purposely don’t have time to know who you are and what you should be not doing?

This is not the same as overthinking. (Tony raises his hand in acknowledgement of guilt.) No, this is simply saying “I need to settle down. I need to pause. I need to reconnect to Bigger Things. Busyness is not a virtue.”

Or, as the wise man said, “If the devil can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy.”

Actually, this transcends good advice. It’s more like a command to settle down.

Psalm 46:10–11 (ESV): 10 “Be still, and know that I am God. 

      I will be exalted among the nations, 

      I will be exalted in the earth!” 

      11 The LORD of hosts is with us; 

      the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

Why do we not hold “being still” as a virtue any more? Why do we have to work so hard at being busy?

I’ll ‘fess up to having an overactive mind. (At least I still have a mind. I’ve decided not many folks do … or at least they don’t use them much.) My mind races. Thoughts stumble over each other. Focus is elusive. I’d say that many folks simply live life frantically. 

You may have an active family – you’re always going somewhere, or taking someone somewhere. It may be that in relationships – friends, families, romantic partners, mates – you can’t find the time for each other you need. You may be overwhelmed at work, and it reduces you to bone-crushing fatigue. Even church stuff … I’m reminded of the Methodist lady who said, “I’d be a Baptist if I thought it wouldn’t ruin my health.” We’re supposed to participate in a lot of church activities, right? And don’t get me started on the constant demanding bombardment of media – social media, news media, the vortex that is the Internet, and all the rest. Your brain can take only so much.

I guess the tendency bred into us early on is the sense we should always be doing something. To not do something is to be idle. We can’t settle down. 

So, I’ll take us back to that little phrase from the Psalmist: Be still, and know that I am God. That doesn’t seem to be optional. It sounds like a command to me.

God wants you to settle down. 

Here’s how this can happen. And I understand that sometimes busyness isn’t a choice. What I’m talking about is elective time … those moments when you choose to be still. And I won’t launch into a rant about time management, that you make time for what’s important, that everyone has 24 hours, your life isn’t any more busy than anyone else’s. You know that already, and I don’t need to remind you. Time is the great leveler in life. Everyone gets the same ration.

So, choosing to settle down. Here are five thoughts.

1. Concentrate. This is about focus. This means when you have something that needs doing, you just do it. It’s being singleminded. It’s saying “for the next 25 minutes, I am not gonna let anything disturb my thought process.” That means no outside influences. And you may be thinking, “dude, I have toddlers.” I just bet that at some point they sleep. Or that you can get up before they do. This also means no multitasking. I don’t know who in the heck put that idea into our heads that we need to juggle a bunch of things at once. It doesn’t work. Concentrate on the task at hand. Focus, focus, focus. 
2. Meditate. This is all about spiritual focus. Jesus time, if you will. It, for instance, means grabbing a Bible passage, soaking in it, seeing God in it, and giving yourself time for it to take root. I personally don’t think you can achieve a true godly meditative state in five minutes, but it’s better than nothing.
3. Think. Gosh, y’all, this is so self-evident. How many times have we wounded ourselves because we did or said something without thinking? We were created to be emotional creatures, and that’s fine. But, so help me, believe this: while most decisions we make are ultimately rooted in how we feel, feelings are lousy when it comes to dictating choices or behavior. Settle down. Think. Then act.
4. Consider and pursue. This is Thinking, Part 2. Weigh options. Be open to counsel. Seek to have the Mind of Christ. Settle down, make the choice, and go for it, as in pursue the outcome. I can be indecisive with the best of ‘em, and I am prone to second guess, but ultimately, it’s putting your hand to the plow and not looking back.
5. Lie down in green pastures. I love that imagery from Psalm 23. Lie down. That’s taking “settle down” to the next level. I like to think of myself flat on my back, under the shade of the canopy of a tree, and yet still being able to see white clouds and blue skies. Just be still. Shhhh. Don’t disturb me. God may have something He wants me to hear, and I can’t hear if there’s a lot of racket going on.

Isaiah knew a little about this … check out Isaiah 30:15:

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:

“In repentance and rest is your salvation,

    in quietness and trust is your strength,

    but you would have none of it.”

I don’t know why we would “have none of it.” Maybe we’re afraid of repentance, rest, quiet, and trust. I need to think about that a little more.

All this means is that there is an absolute necessity of rest. Relax. Settle down. Through this you gain strength, your mind is clearer, and you can face all of life’s crazy challenges supernaturally ready.

This: you just have to take time to think through what you’re facing in your life without overthinking. You can’t just go blasting through situations forlornly hoping things will improve. You have to be refreshed by God’s mercy, goodness, grace, and faithfulness – and you can’t do that if you’re running around. You have to settle down.

When you settle down, know that you will receive encouragement. You’ll be sweetly refreshed. You’ll be able to care for those you love without depleting your own reserves. God calls you to be still and know Him.

That’s your plan.

Talk later!

I went to bed last night brokenhearted.

For a whole host of reasons, I can’t give details as to why I’m brokenhearted. It’s a combination of factors, which are primarily out of my hands. It’s grief compounded upon grief, and it’s not because of something I’ve done personally. Rather, it’s an awareness of what sin does.

This morning I awoke just as brokenhearted as I was at bedtime. I turned to God for comfort, direction, and wisdom. And as He’s prone to do – boom! He served up just exactly what I needed. That’s the way He rolls.

It all sprang from a verse in Isaiah – Isaiah 57:15, to be exact. This verse just cried out to be unpacked, and here’s my takeaways.

The question for us today is simple: Is your heart hurting today?

Check this out, from the New Living Translation:

The high and lofty one who lives in eternity, the Holy One, says this: “I live in the high and holy place with those whose spirits are contrite and humble. I restore the crushed spirit of the humble and revive the courage of those with repentant hearts.”

It’s acceptable and encouraged to do the whole “breathe in, breathe out” routine while reading this and evaluating the state of your heart right now. As you wade into this, understand that feeling the presence of God in this very moment is what is called for.

Look. I don’t know of anyone who would willingly choose to experience a broken heart. The jaw-dropping reality, and what all my ponderings today hinge on, is that Jesus willingly suffered and died in our place so that He could reign as high priest in heaven.

He knows just exactly what it’s like to be brokenhearted. He’s been there. Isn’t that something?

The implications are huge.

What this means is that you can cry in His embrace, as a hurtin’ puppy, and know that if you’re brokenhearted He catches every tear.

One handicap we have, though, is that it’s easy and tempting to ignore the pain of a broken heart. You know, just soldier on, eyes fixed ahead, unbowed and determined. That sounds noble, but it’s not really a good idea, especially if you want to be authentic.

See, there’s a healing process when you bring your brokenheartedness to Jesus, and it’s a necessity for spiritual health, growth, and comfort.

Jesus is ready to comfort you, and it’s personally bewildering as to why I don’t lean into Him when I’m hurting.

There is a blessing that comes from pain. I know, right? That’s counterintuitive. Still, it’s that crystalline hurt that pushes us toward God and we experience His love in a way we simply can’t otherwise. It’s a blessing for those of us who are brokenhearted. 

It’s actually kind of crazy, in a good way. If we let ourselves hold back and try to nurse our own wounds, we stifle that supernatural healing and restoration He wants us to experience. We just can’t  let that hurt keep us from drawing close to Him.

He wants us to pour out our pain to Him so that His words can be balm to our souls.

I’m amazed, even after all these years of walking with God, that He sent Jesus to die for me. This is so fundamental, so basic, and yet we in our familiarity skate right past the most profound truth imaginable. 

Our requests to God might include:

• Give me courage to walk through this painful valley. There is a purpose to me being here.
• I want to hear Your voice – a whisper is fine, but if You need to holler to get my attention, that’s fine too.
• Reveal Your heart to me. I thought I could discern it when things were going well, but apparently You’ve had to get out the big guns.
• I believe You’re preparing a good and right path for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s all flat ground and no rocks.
• Don’t let me pull away from You in my grief and suffering. My mouth wants to say “whatever it takes,” but I tend to choke on those words. I’ll need some help with this one.
• Remind me of Your love and compassion. It’s so easy for me to forget those basics.

I don’t know how you visualize God – what your mental image of Him is. It’s different for everyone. It’ll be helpful if you could do that, even right now. Just soak in that sweet space.

Remind yourself that God loves you unconditionally. He’s totally faithful. 

There may be some things in your heart that need to be cleaned out – things that are hampering that blessing that will ease your brokenhearted spirit. Even in times of pain and brokenness you’re still blessed.

God doesn’t want you to deny your pain. If you’re brokenhearted, He wants you to draw near to Him with no holds barred.

Check out Isaiah 57:15 in the English Standard Version:

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.”

More good stuff: Because God knows all the details of your broken heart, and when you cry He’s right there saving your tears, you are not alone in your brokenness. What a gift that is! He understands your situation completely and is standing by your side through it all.

And here’s a monster truth, to make things even sweeter: There is a gift of hope from Jesus that He can lift your spirit again, just as He rose again after and during the heartbreak of the Cross. Brokenhearted? Claim this.

Let’s do Isaiah 57:15 one more time, this time from the Amplified Bible:

For the high and exalted One, He who inhabits eternity, Whose name is Holy says this, “I dwell on the high and holy place, but also with the contrite and humble in spirit In order to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite [overcome with sorrow for sin].”

That last phrase really captures what it means to be contrite – overcome with sorrow for sin.

This version talks about sorrow over sin. Is that not often the cause of us being brokenhearted? This can be a scary thought.

It may be that the last time you were brokenhearted was simply because of your own personal sin. Through that, God showed you more about Himself through your brokenness. He doesn’t want you to just know facts about Him. He wants to draw you really close, and conviction of sin can absolutely take you to that place of intimacy. 

He doesn’t fail you. He doesn’t leave you or forsake you. But He will absolutely use brokenheartedness to make us right. 

If there’s something about pain you need to know, it’s this: God will take you into a deeper relationship with Him than you can imagine, but it’ll hurt in the process. You’ll be brokenhearted. So instead of running from the pain, you lean into it, take it to God (and don’t try to excuse or sugarcoat it), and every single time He’ll bring depths of beauty out of it.

Jesus endured pain so that we could have a relationship with Him. Do this:

• Ask Him to comfort and heal your heart. Now.
• Ask Him to remove anything you’ve done wrong.
• Ask Him to let you experience His nearness in a fresh way. 
• Ask Him to restore your peace, joy, and hope.

If the pain in your heart throbs again and you find yourself brokenhearted, remind yourself of this simple truth: God is near.

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.

Find rest. Walk in God’s way and find Him.

Rest seems to be in short supply these days. There’s a splendid irony at work here. Even though the world has slowed down because of the pandemic, we are more internally unsettled than ever. We may still be busy, but there’s that uneasy churning in our soul that is taking its toll.

So rest is something we’d like to experience, right? Just a sense of peace, of settling down, of being free from the worry and angst of the world.

Since I’m speaking primarily to believers, you understand that God promises rest. Ancient script states in Matthew 11:28-30:

²⁸ “Come to me,all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.²⁹ Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

That’s good stuff right there. The promise of rest. So why the struggle many of us have?

Beats me. But I think a lot of it has to do with simple trust in God.

Here’s some good news about rest. Part of finding rest, experiencing rest, comes with the realization that no evil can touch you.

That does not mean, of course, that you will ever be freed from the presence of evil.  We live in a fallen world, right? So evil abounds.

But evil will not harm you in the strictest sense. It can certainly influence you, but when it comes to eternity – and that’s what I’m talking about – it will not cause you to lose your reward.

You will suffer in this world. You’ll deal with illness and loss. Bad things will happen. Evil things, even. But they can’t touch that  part of  you that belongs to God.

I’m not advocating denial here. I am advocating rest coming from knowing you are His, and He is yours. That’s a pretty secure place to be in. That is an opportunity for finding rest.

Rest means not to struggle.

Consider that. Struggle is the antithesis of rest. When you’re fighting, you aren’t resting. You’re on alert, you’re all wound up, and you’re a bundle of tension.

I wonder if part of our struggles are imposed by the world. Does the word “overwhelmed” resonate with you? Feel like you’re fighting something all the time?

Here’s where that line of thinking will invariably lead. You’ll find yourself struggling, fretting, and feeling swamped by life itself. Worse, there may be a sense you’re all alone in your struggles. Awful. You can’t find rest.

That loneliness comes from a sense that no one can really understand what you’re facing. Actually, that’s true. While some people can empathize, no one will ever totally get it because you are unique in every way. That’s not a bad thing.

I don’t have a magic formula for finding rest for you, or really even showing you how to find rest. So let’s just stick  to basics, shall we?

God alone has perfect understanding of you. He understands you even when you don’t understand you. Crazy, right?

When you need perfect understanding, that’s where you go.

When you need the awareness of a perfect, loving, tender relationship, that’s really your only option.

So. For those days when you’re overwhelmed, when rest seems like a fantasy, and you want to say to the world “Please understand me!”, here’s the good news.

Someone does.

Be well.

Tony’s question: Would you share with the rest of us what YOU do to experience the peace and rest only God can give? Leave your comments below, and don’t forget to share with your friends.