After Daddy died, I had another 12 years with my mamma. Even though I didn’t live close, we kept up with each other, and I’d make it home when I could.

One thing that bugged me, though, is that anytime I was at her house, the television would be tuned to one of the 24-hour news channels. Maybe Fox, maybe CNN, but always something.

Mamma would comment on what she’d seen and heard. Mamma was a rock-solid Christian, a strong woman, but I could tell that a lot of what she was seeing was scaring her. She was genuinely afraid of what was happening in the world.

I said, “Mamma, don’t be watching this stuff all the time. You’re just seeing the same thing over and over. You don’t need to do that to yourself.”

I’d like to tell you that she took her only child’s counsel, but her viewing habits never changed. The world outside her house was dark and threatening.

I’m a journalist. I want to give you some thoughts on how to manage your information intake. Don’t be like Mamma.

Navigating the stormy seas of today’s news cycle without capsizing into the ocean of despair is quite the task. Let me offer some beacons of hope.

1. Most Stories Don’t Matter

In the grand tapestry of life, it’s easy to lose sight of the big picture when we’re fixated on every little thread, especially the frayed ones. The truth is, much of the news is like fast food for our brains: quickly consumed, rarely satisfying, and often leaving us with regret. The trick is to differentiate between the news that truly impacts our lives and the noise that clutters it. Remember, just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s important. Prioritize what genuinely affects you and your community, and let the rest fade into the background noise where it belongs.

2. Challenge Yourself to Love Easy-to-Dislike People

This one’s tough, but oh, so rewarding! Loving people we don’t like, especially those who seem to embody everything we stand against, is a radical act of kindness. It’s not about agreeing with them or condoning their actions; it’s about recognizing their humanity beneath the layers of differences. When we see someone vilified in the news, it’s a golden opportunity to practice empathy and remember that everyone has a story, fears, and dreams. Love doesn’t mean approval; it means understanding and compassion.

3. News Shouldn’t Be 24/7

Our minds were not designed to be bombarded with a constant stream of information, much of it distressing. It’s like trying to drink from a firehose; eventually, you’ll drown. Setting boundaries around news consumption can be incredibly freeing. Allocate a specific, limited time each day to catch up on the news, and then move on to activities that replenish your spirit and joy. This minimal intake ensures you’re informed without being overwhelmed. It’s about being a responsible citizen of the world without being a hostage to it.

4. Guard Your Mind. Guard Your Heart

The news can be a battlefield, and your peace of mind is the territory at stake. Be vigilant about protecting it. If you find your spirit getting dragged down, it’s time to step back. This doesn’t mean ignorance; it means wisdom. It’s recognizing when exposure is turning into poison and choosing to detox. Fill your heart and mind with things that uplift and inspire you, and disengage from sources that drain your joy. Your mental and emotional well-being is precious — treat it with the care it deserves.

5. God’s Got This

In the whirlwind of global events, it’s easy to feel like we’re in a boat about to be swallowed by waves. But here’s the thing: God is the master of the sea and the storm. The belief that “God’s got this” doesn’t imply passivity; it’s a call to faith. It means trusting that even in the chaos, there’s a plan, and goodness prevails. It’s about finding peace in the knowledge that we’re not alone, and that every storm runs out of rain. So, take a deep breath, and relax. Focus on what you can control, and leave the rest in His capable hands.

Navigating the news without losing our peace of mind is about selective engagement, empathy, setting boundaries, self-care, and faith. Each of these strategies not only helps us to maintain our sanity but also transforms us into beacons of hope and love in a world that desperately needs it. We’re all in this boat together, steering towards a horizon of hope.

This week, I want to dive into a memory lane moment that’s been tugging at my heartstrings, all centered around a term we’re all too familiar with — bullying. But, I’m not just talking about the kind we remember from the playground; I’m eyeing its more grown-up, yet equally damaging counterpart in our adult lives.

This grows from an incident I saw in the news that can only be classified as bullying, and it involves public figures, grown men. Frankly, it’s troubled me perhaps more than it should have. Let me tell you a story. There are some real parallels here.

My thoughts drift back to a childhood memory from Camp Ridgecrest for Boys — a memory that, oddly enough, has rippled through the years, influencing my understanding of kindness, courage, and the subtle forms of bullying that don’t always leave visible scars.

I was in the 6th grade, sharing a cabin with five other boys, one of whom, Ernie, had a stutter. His vulnerability became the target of another cabin mate, Herbie, who found a perverse delight in mocking him. Despite Ernie’s attempts to laugh it off, the bullying escalated until it reduced him to tears. Herbie accomplished what he set out to do. As a witness, my silence has since felt like complicity, a haunting reminder of the power of our actions — and inactions. I should have said or done something. As a 6^th grader, though, I guess I didn’t want to run the risk of being treated like Ernie had been.

The memory serves as a stark reflection on bullying, not just as a relic of our school days but as a shadow that can follow us into adulthood, morphing into forms that are harder to recognize but equally harmful. Adult bullying may not involve stolen lunch money or physical altercations, but it can manifest in workplace politics, social exclusion, or cutting remarks dressed as jokes, even to the extent of making fun of someone’s physical appearance or handicaps. These actions, though less overt, stem from the same desire to exert power over another.

As Christians, or simply as humans striving to be better, we’re compelled to ask ourselves, “What would Jesus do?” This question isn’t meant to invoke guilt but to encourage a profound introspection about our conduct and its impact on those around us. Jesus’ life was a testament to love, inclusivity, and standing up for the marginalized — a guidepost for our interactions.

Acknowledging feelings of complicity in the face of bullying is not an admission of defeat but a step toward growth. It’s a call to action, urging us to be vigilant and brave, to stand up against injustices, and to support those who are being diminished. Our silence can be as impactful as our words, and choosing to speak out can be a beacon of hope for someone in the throes of bullying.

As adults, we wield considerable influence — through our actions, our words, and our decisions about when to speak and when to listen. This influence gives us a unique responsibility to create environments (churches?) where respect and kindness overshadow the impulse to belittle or dominate. It’s about building communities where the Ernies of the world feel supported and valued, not for their ability to endure mockery but for their inherent worth as individuals.

This is an invitation — a call to reflect on our behaviors and the subtle ways we might contribute to or combat bullying in our everyday lives. It’s an encouragement to foster empathy, to be the ally that our younger selves needed, and to cultivate spaces where compassion drowns out cruelty.

In closing, let’s remember that the lessons learned on the playground have far-reaching implications. The way we navigate adult bullying, standing up for fairness and kindness, can transform our workplaces, homes, and social circles into havens of respect and understanding. By doing so, we honor the spirit of what Jesus taught, living out our faith through actions that speak louder than words.

Together, let’s pledge to be the change, to be adults who embody the virtues we wish to see in the world. Because in the end, it’s not just about preventing bullying; it’s about nurturing a society where every person is seen, heard, and valued — where the playground, the workplace, and the church are places of growth, not battlegrounds for dominance.

I should know better when on social media. I’ll read a post from someone I know and care for, and think, “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re a believer. And if I were to take what you’re sharing at face value, I’d say you’re moving close to despair. How cynical can you get?”  

It’s like a drowning man who not only won’t reach for a lifesaver but isn’t content until they drown someone else along with them.

In a world that often seems overwhelmed by negativity and cynicism, it’s easy to wonder where we, as Christians, fit into the grand scheme of things. We’re bombarded with news that paints a less-than-hopeful picture of humanity and the future. It’s in these moments, however, that our faith is not just a belief but a beacon—a source of perpetual hope and unwavering trust in God’s sovereignty.

The idea that “you can’t be cynical and a Christian” might seem bold at first glance. After all, isn’t it human to feel disheartened by the seemingly endless cycle of bad news? Yet, this statement isn’t about denying our emotions or ignoring reality. It’s about recognizing that, as Christians, we are called to view the world differently. We are called to hope.

Hope, in the Christian sense, is not blind optimism. It’s a confident expectation based on the character and promises of God. Despite the chaos, despite the brokenness, we stand firm in the belief that God is always glorified in all things. This isn’t a passive hope; it’s active and alive, compelling us to engage with the world in a way that reflects God’s love and redemption.

Don’t let your familiarity with Romans 8:28 dilute its truthfulness. Paul reminds us, “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.” This verse isn’t a platitude; it’s a cornerstone of our faith. It assures us that, no matter the circumstances, God is at work. He’s weaving every thread, even those tarnished by sin and sorrow, into a tapestry that glorifies Him and fulfills His divine plan.

When we look at others or the world around us, it’s crucial to remember that there’s no person or situation beyond God’s redemption. To think otherwise is to limit the infinite power of our Creator, the one who spoke the universe into existence. How, then, can we doubt His ability to transform lives and circumstances?

Embracing this perspective shifts our focus from despair to action. It challenges us to be agents of hope and vessels of God’s love. Instead of being overwhelmed by the darkness, we’re inspired to shine our light brighter, to reach out with compassion, and to partake in God’s redemptive work in the world.

“God’s got this” might sound like a casual affirmation, but it’s a profound declaration of faith. It’s an acknowledgment of God’s omnipotence and a commitment to trust Him, even when the path ahead seems uncertain. This trust isn’t naive; it’s rooted in a deep understanding of who God is and His promises to us.

So, as we navigate through life, let’s challenge ourselves to shed any cynicism that dims our light. Let’s replace it with a hope that is as unshakeable as it is contagious. Let’s be so filled with God’s love and trust in His plan that others can’t help but be drawn to the hope that lives within us.

As you reflect on these words, I encourage you to evaluate your own heart. Are there areas of your life where cynicism has taken root? How can you actively replace that cynicism with hope? Remember, it’s a journey we’re all on together, supporting one another, as we strive to live out our faith in a world that desperately needs the hope only God can give.

Let’s not just be hearers of this message but doers. Let’s live out our hope in such a way that it provokes others to seek the source of our hope, the very heart of God. Because, in the end, hope is not just what we have; it’s what we are called to share.

I thought of a name for my autobiography, if I ever decide to write it: Well, That Didn’t Work.

My life is full of things that didn’t go the way I’d wanted or planned. Some incidents I’d drop in that file marked “It’s Just a Thing.” Another file would be marked, “What Were You Thinking?” And, unfortunately, one file would be marked “You Blew It.”

That third file would be full of unpleasant accounts.

I’m prone to be unduly hard on myself. Can I get an “amen?”

I’m learning, though, that all my past mistakes, those moments of weakness, are redeemable. Check this out.

The scene is the Garden of Gethsemane—a pivotal moment not just in biblical history, but as a metaphor for our own spiritual journeys. Picture it: the disciples, those closest to Jesus, succumbed to human weakness, dozing off when they were needed most. When they woke, imagine the weight of their regret, the sinking feeling of having missed a crucial moment to support their friend and teacher. It’s a scenario many of us can relate to on a personal level.

This story isn’t just about physical sleep; it’s about moments of spiritual slumber, times when we’ve been absent when it mattered most—missed opportunities to stand by someone, to make a difference, or to take a step of faith. And like the disciples, we often wake up to a harsh self-judgment: “How could I have let that happen?” We beat ourselves up, thinking it’s all over, that we’ve blown it for good.

But here’s the twist: despair isn’t an anomaly; it’s part of the human experience. It’s as common as the cold, and just as unwelcome. Yet, it’s in these moments of despair that Jesus steps in with a message that’s both startling and soothing. He essentially tells us, “Okay, you missed that one. But let’s not dwell on it. There’s more ahead.”

I like the concept of leaving our past failures in the “sweet embrace of Christ.” It’s about allowing ourselves to move on, not ignoring our mistakes, but not letting them anchor us in place either. Jesus’s approach is not one of dismissal but of gentle redirection: “Get up, and do the next thing.”

And what is this “next thing”? It’s moving forward with trust and faith in Him, praying and acting from a place of redemption, not regret. The best thing we could do is shift our focus from what we’ve done wrong to what we can do right, starting now.

This message is incredibly relevant for all of us. How often do we find ourselves paralyzed by past missteps? How frequently do we let the fear of failure stop us from stepping out again? Yet, here we’re reminded that our past doesn’t have to dictate our future. Our spiritual journey is not defined by how many times we’ve fallen, but by how many times we get up—and who we’re walking with.

Want some encouragement? The message is clear: there’s always a next step, a new chapter waiting to be written with God by our side.

So, let’s take this advice to heart. Let’s not let the sense of past failure defeat our next step. Instead, let’s lean into the “invincible future” with Jesus, trusting in His redemption, and always ready to do the next thing.

Until next time, keep walking in faith and light, embracing each new day and opportunity with the joy and assurance that comes from knowing He’s got us, every step of the way.

I was a repulsively good kid growing up. I don’t think I would have been classified as a “goody goody” – does that term even exist anymore? – but I just didn’t get in that much trouble. As an only child, I was pretty spoiled, and I didn’t want to mess with the good deal I had. 

Still, I had spectacular failures. I’ll not share those because they’re none of your business, and we don’t know each other that well. On one occasion, Mama laid on me the title of this article: “Michael Anthony Martin, you should be ashamed of yourself.” It’s always bad when parents call you by your whole name. 

So – being ashamed. I think there was a time when Southerners had the capacity to be ashamed because of something we did or said, but that may be a lost ideal. 

In our modern world, the concept of shame often gets a bad rap. It’s seen as an outdated, negative emotion, something to be avoided at all costs. But have we, in our quest to be free of discomfort, lost sight of the transformative power of shame? As Christians, we understand that shame, when understood and approached correctly, can be a catalyst for positive change.

The Lost Art of Feeling Ashamed

In a society that champions the mantra of “doing what feels right,” the idea of feeling ashamed for our actions seems almost archaic. We live in a world where personal truth often overrides absolute Truth, and the notion of feeling embarrassed by our negative behaviors is increasingly rare. But is this lack of shame a sign of progress or a warning of lost moral compass?

Shame in the Biblical Context

The Bible doesn’t shy away from discussing shame. In fact, it’s often presented as a natural response to sin and wrongdoing. Proverbs 14:34 reminds us, “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” This reproach, or shame, is not meant to be a permanent state but a moment of realization, a turning point.

The Role of Shame

Shame’s true role is not to condemn but to convict. It’s like a mirror, reflecting back our imperfections, not to discourage us but to encourage us to seek better. In 2 Corinthians 7:10, Paul talks about godly sorrow leading to repentance: “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.” This distinction is crucial. Godly sorrow, or shame, should lead us to a place of positive change.

Moving from Guilt to Grace

Feeling shame for our negative thoughts and behaviors is a starting point, not the end. It’s where grace enters the picture. Ephesians 2:8 reminds us, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” Grace doesn’t negate the need for shame; rather, it provides the means for moving beyond it.

Practical Steps to Growth

• Acknowledgment: Admitting our faults is the first step towards change.
• Seeking Forgiveness: This involves both asking God for forgiveness and seeking to mend our relationships with those we’ve wronged.
• Learning and Growing: Use your experiences of shame as lessons for personal growth.
• Resting in God’s Grace: Remember that your identity is not in your failures but in Christ.

Encouragement for the Journey

The journey from guilt to growth is not a solitary one. We’re reminded in Galatians 6:2 to “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Let’s not shun the feeling of shame, but use it as a tool for growth, encouragement, and positive change.

Have we lost the ability to feel ashamed? Perhaps in some ways, we have. But as Christians, we have the unique opportunity to reclaim shame as a step towards redemption and growth. It’s not about wallowing in guilt but about embracing the journey from conviction to grace. Let’s walk this path together, encouraged and ready to grow into the people God intends us to be.

I’m preaching to myself this morning, and thought I’d let you be part of my one-person congregation.

Here’s what is true. You are carrying a burden that gnaws at your mind and heart. It’s heavy, isn’t it? That feeling of something being not quite right, of decisions left unmade or actions not taken. This burden? You know it well because, truth be told, it’s self-inflicted. You know what to do but won’t do it. It’s like knowing the path but refusing to walk it. And I get it. We’ve all been there.

But here’s the thing about this burden – it’s corrupting your life, your relationships, everything. It’s like a little bit of rust that, left unchecked, weakens the strongest metal. It’s not just about you anymore; it’s about how this burden spills over into every interaction, every relationship. It might start small, but it has a way of growing, doesn’t it?

Now, let’s pause for a second. I know this sounds serious but hold on. Here comes the good part. Listen closely. In Christ, you have nothing to hide. You see, those things we bury deep inside, those mistakes or regrets we’re afraid to face, in Christ, they’re out in the open – and yet, we’re safe. There’s no need to put on a mask, to pretend to be someone you’re not.

Nothing to prove. That relentless drive to show the world how capable, how successful, or how unbothered we are? In Christ, that pressure is off. You’re already valued, loved, more than you know. It’s not about what you do; it’s about who you are in Him.

Nothing to fear. This is a big one. Fear can be paralyzing – fear of failure, of rejection, of the unknown. But in Christ, fear loses its grip. It’s like stepping out into a storm and realizing you’re not alone, and the one who’s with you can calm the wind and the waves.

And finally, nothing to lose. In a world where we’re constantly told to protect our assets, our status, our egos, it’s liberating to know that in Christ, what truly matters can’t be taken away. It’s a security that isn’t based on the shifting sands of circumstance but on the solid rock of His love and grace.

So, what’s the solution to this burden you’re carrying? It’s simple, yet profound. Repent. Obey. Repentance isn’t just about saying sorry; it’s about turning around, going a different way. It’s about choosing a path that leads to healing and wholeness. And obeying? It’s about aligning your steps, your heart, your life with His. It’s about taking those steps, even when they’re hard.

I just gave you and me the solution to basically every problem we have. He wants to make you whole again. It’s not just a nice thought; it’s a promise. A promise of a life filled with purpose, peace, and joy. A promise that no matter how far you’ve strayed, you’re never too far from His reach.

So, take a deep breath. Let go of that burden. Step into the light of His love. You’ve got this, not because of who you are, but because of who He is in you. And remember, in Christ, you truly have nothing to hide, nothing to prove, nothing to fear, and absolutely nothing to lose.

What does it look like to be whole?

I want to be whole. I’ve been on this kick of moving from brokenness to wholeness. You probably have recognized this.

I’ve figured this out – not because I’m all that brilliant, but just because it’s self-evident. The thought is to be complete in Christ. That’s what it means to be whole. Without Him, there are simply missing pieces.

The implications are huge. It means that you thrive spiritually. It means that you live strong. It means that you are whole and complete.

So what does that look like? Let me share some good stuff from scripture. That’s my authority.

7 thoughts.

1 – It means that you aren’t looking for wholeness in places apart from God.

2 Corinthians 12:9 reads, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

It means that no one but God Himself can return you to wholeness. This is about grace, and the yearning of your heart. There are quick fixes out there, but they don’t last because they’re based in something that has no foundation.

Psalm 73:26 reads, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

2 – You can’t realistically expect other people to meet the needs only Jesus Christ can.

John 15:11 reads, “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.”

Relying on God is the only way you can be healed and fulfilled. This is a companion thought to #1. This one, though, has more to do with what you think people can do to make you whole.

I had a student tell me once, when referring to her boyfriend, “He completes me.” I get that; we need others, and we especially need others in relationships that help us with our shortcomings. Still, we’re still talking about completeness in the flesh here. Aim for eternal completion. Jesus does that.

Psalms 107:20 reads, “He sent forth his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.”

3 – You realize your worth is not defined by your appearance, job performance, human relationships, or anything apart from your relationship with God as His child.

2 Corinthians 5:7 reads, “We live by faith, not by sight.”

This is tricky. We don’t think we’re whole because we aren’t measuring up to some standard out there. Truth is, though, that the relationship with God I’ve been speaking of is the only flawless source of your sense of worth. It’s not how you “look,” or how you think you’re perceived. How does God see you? He is what makes you whole, not some self- or society-imposed standard.

4 – Don’t say “It’s impossible.” God gives freedom. You are forgiven and loved no matter what. You show God gratitude by living in His light and making wise choices.

1 Peter 5:7 reads, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

You aren’t stuck. You are not broken forever. You can be whole. This casting anxiety thing? It’s a promise, because He does indeed care for you.

5 – You don’t live your life to please other people. Instead, you strive to please God by discovering your purpose in Him and living that to the max.

Psalm 94:19 reads, “When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”

Can I just ‘fess up here and tell you that I want people to like me? I mean, the alternative is for people to dislike me, and that’s not especially appealing. You can’t please everyone, right? So, the obvious tactic is to please God. He’s got you here for a reason. He isn’t hiding that from you. Work that reason. Be joyful.

6 – Stop yourself immediately when an unhealthy thought enters your mind, and challenge it with “Does this thought line up with the word of God?”

Psalm 42:5 reads, “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my savior and my God.”

What takes up headspace in your life? Here’s an absolute, incontrovertible truth: you are what you think about. Man, I could riff on that all day. I don’t need to, because you know exactly what I’m saying. It’s true.

7 – The battlefield is your mind, first and foremost.

2 Corinthians 10:5 reads, “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.”

Again, I’m piggybacking on a previous thought. But your mind, y’all! That’s where it goes down.

Here’s the cool thing. You have this superpower that distinguishes you and separates you from all the rest of creation:

You can choose. You can make choices. You can even make good choices.

That’s a big deal. By God’s grace and empowered by the indwelling Holy Spirit, you can choose the quality of your life. You can’t control the outcome of things – God does that – but in aligning yourself with Him and acting in obedience, things work out. Every time. Maybe not in the way you wanted or planned, but in a way that honors God and leads to your ultimate success.

I think that’s amazing. That’s being made whole.

Thoughts that lead to brokenness are the devil’s way of blocking what God wants you to know about who you are in Christ. You have to take those thoughts about yourself and lock them up. Make your mind listen to what God has to say about you. If you do, you will find wholeness.

Comments welcome. Talk soon!

Imagine you’re on a journey, a long winding path with tall trees on both sides, obscuring your view of what lies ahead. Every turn, every rise, and dip of the ground brings a tinge of uncertainty. If you had a guide leading the way, someone who knows every twist and turn of that path, wouldn’t you feel more assured?

Our journey through life is much like this winding path, filled with uncertainties at every corner. But as believers, we are blessed to have Jesus as our guide. The question then isn’t whether we have a guide, but rather how we position Him in our journey. Is He leading us, or have we relegated Him to a mere porter carrying our burdens?

Jesus Leading the Way

When Jesus leads the way, we walk with a certain assurance, even amidst the chaos and unpredictability of life. It doesn’t mean there won’t be moments of fear or doubt, but it does mean that our immediate response to uncertainty is to look ahead, to Him.

Having Jesus lead means that our vision shifts from the immediate problem to the eternal promise. Instead of asking, “Why is this happening to me?” we start asking, “What are you teaching me through this, Lord?” It’s a position of trust and proactive faith, where we allow Jesus to chart our course, trusting that He has our best interests at heart.

Jesus as Our Porter

On the other hand, when Jesus is behind us, bearing our burdens, it might seem like a noble gesture. We acknowledge Him, we recognize that He’s there, and we rely on Him to carry our troubles. But, there’s a subtle difference – we’re not letting Him lead. Instead of looking to Him for direction, we’re navigating life based on our understanding, our plans. We’re making Him reactive to our decisions rather than the other way around.

There’s an inherent danger in this. It means that when faced with uncertainty, our first response might be panic, stress, or even despair. We scramble to find solutions, often forgetting to consult with the very one carrying our burdens.

Repositioning Jesus in Our Lives

So how do we ensure Jesus is leading us rather than merely following? It starts with surrender. It’s acknowledging that while we have our plans, God’s plans for us are always better. It’s daily picking up our cross and saying, “Not my will, but Yours be done.”

Surrender doesn’t mean inaction. It means actively seeking His will in every decision, every uncertainty. It’s a proactive stance of prayer, seeking wisdom, and being attuned to the gentle nudges of the Holy Spirit.

Next, it involves reading and meditating on the Word. The Bible isn’t just a historical document; it’s a living testament, a guide for our journey. By immersing ourselves in it, we get to understand God’s character, His promises, and His directives for us.

Lastly, it involves community. Surrounding ourselves with fellow believers who can offer godly counsel, pray with and for us, and hold us accountable in our walk with Christ.

Wrapping Up

Uncertainty is a given in our human experience, but our reaction to it speaks volumes about our relationship with Jesus. Letting Him lead doesn’t guarantee a life free from troubles, but it promises a life where every challenge is faced with divine assurance and hope.

So, as we journey through life, let’s evaluate where Jesus is positioned. Is He leading, or is He merely following? And if we find that He’s been behind us for a while, let’s reposition Him where He rightfully belongs – right ahead, leading the way.

Talk later!

One in four adults and one in five youth in the United States have a diagnosable mental illness. At Family Matters, we know this means nearly every family we come in contact with is impacted by mental illness. As Christians, we know we can turn to our Heavenly Father and seek His guidance and wisdom in all areas of our life. The Bible tells us in 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”

Belief in an omnipotent God means we believe He can heal us of our brokenness spiritually, mentally and physically. Out of that belief, we turn to our God with prayer and faith that He can heal. We believe this for ourselves, and we encourage others to believe the same.

God can, and sometimes does, heal us when we cry out to Him, but often He doesn’t.

Often, God says to us when we continually ask him to take away our sadness, anxiety, scattered thoughts, anger and pain, “My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in your weakness” —2 Corinthians 12:9.

The only brokenness God promises to heal is our spiritual brokenness.

Mentally and physically, we are “jars of clay” that contain our spiritual treasure (2 Corinthians 4:7-18) and we often won’t be free from our afflictions until we are glorified with Christ someday in Heaven.

I see a trend in the Church that troubles me. The response of much of the Church to mental illness is to over-spiritualize both the problems and the solutions.

I have experienced it personally, and a recent study by LifeWay research has found nearly half of evangelical, fundamentalist, or born-again Christians (48 percent) believe prayer and Bible study alone can overcome serious mental illness like schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and depression.

We would never begrudge someone with cancer from seeking the best, most innovative treatment available to them. We would never simply tell them to just pray and study their Bible more! We would pray fervently for God’s healing, comfort and wisdom, but we’d also fully expect that they will see a doctor, seek treatment and take medication if it’s warranted.

We don’t do the same with mental health.

Often, when I’ve heard someone share that they are grappling with mental illness, their concern is met with answers like, “you should cast all your cares on the Lord (1 Pet. 5:7); rejoice in the Lord always (Phil 4:4); pray without ceasing (1 Thess 5:17) and you are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).”

All of these are biblical truths—but they should not be hurled as platitudes; platitudes to dismiss their pain, call their faith into question and shut down further discussion of a topic we may find challenging and hard to comprehend.

The mentally ill continue to receive dismissive, judgmental and marginalizing responses from much of the Church because mental health is still stigmatized. Yes, there is a spiritual component to mental illness (and physical illness), but mostly because we are spirit. To immediately draw the conclusion that someone struggling with clinical depression, anxiety disorder, mania or PTSD is under spiritual attack only makes sense if we also immediately draw the same conclusion of our friend who has been diagnosed with breast cancer, hypothyroidism or kidney stones. Yes, demon possession and spiritual oppression happens, but they are not the main cause of true, persistent mental illness. Mental illness happens at the intersection of our mind, spirit, personality, character, faith, decisions and electrical command center (our brain) but it is illness just the same.

It is vital we don’t do anything which could be construed as discouraging treatment for mental illness, because without treatment (and sometimes with it) mental illness can be terminal. Our Great Physician often uses the miracle of medicine in His healing.  Sure, medications come with potential risks and side effects. Like any other health decision we weigh the risk of treating against the risk of not treating. And I can tell you this: the risk of untreated, or undertreated mental illness is staggeringly high. The point is, it’s not our place to critique how a fellow believer chooses to treat their illness either physical or mental. We can leave those decisions between them, their families, their doctors and our Wounded Healer.

What’s the danger in over-spiritualizing mental health?

The danger is we continue to stigmatize those who are equally loved by our Great God. The danger is rather than being life-giving in our love, compassion and understanding, we who are redeemed are a stumbling block to those precious souls who cry out to the Great Physician. The danger is we miss our calling to love and edify each other, and cause a bitter root to grow between us and the world.

“See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many”—Hebrews 12:15.

So love, listen, pray, encourage, support, bake casseroles, drive to appointments and pick-up prescriptions. Advocate for those whose illness leaves them voiceless. Let our witness to the world be how broken people love each other.

NOTE: This article from Family Matters was written by Karis Murray, who writes candidly about mental illness and urges readers not to miss their callings to love and advocate for those whose illnesses leave them voiceless. I want to give all credit to Karis and Family Matters.

“And they all left him and fled.” – Mark 14:50 (ESV)

Jesus Knows Loneliness

Those disciples. They bailed on their Master and friend. This hits home for those of us who’ve faced loneliness or have felt like we let someone down.

Isn’t it comforting to know that Jesus Himself, the Savior of the world, understands what it’s like to be lonely? At the very moment when he could have used the support the most, everybody bolted. Imagine the heartbreak! Yet, He doesn’t wallow in that. Instead, He moves forward, carrying the weight of the world’s sins to the cross. There’s something so profoundly human about this experience of loneliness. I reckon that when you or I feel deserted, we’re in good company. Jesus has been there and He gets it. We’re not alone in our aloneness, if you catch my drift.

Your Faithfulness Matters

Those little things you do? They matter. They matter a lot, especially to a God who felt the sting of being left alone. You don’t have to go around changing water into wine to make a difference. Sometimes, it’s as simple as sitting beside someone who’s having a rough day or helping a neighbor with groceries. Every kind act is like a warm hug to Jesus, telling Him, “You’re not alone, and neither am I.” It’s a two-way street of comfort that’s both cosmic and intimate.

From Deserters to Disciples

Here’s where the message really kicks in. You know those guys who deserted Jesus? They ended up being the cornerstones of the Christian church! Peter, who denied Him not once but three times, became one of the great Apostles. Heck, he even got the keys to the Kingdom! God doesn’t call the qualified; He qualifies the called.

Let’s face it, we’ve all had our “deserter” moments. Maybe it was a promise you couldn’t keep or a calling you ignored because you were too scared or didn’t think you were up to the task. But guess what? God still wants you. He wants to use you, flaws and all, for His incredible purposes.

The Power of “Losers”

You might personify those disciples as failures. Losers. I think that’s gold right there. God’s economy doesn’t operate like the world’s. The world applauds success, but God applauds faithfulness. The world seeks the spotlight, but God seeks the heart. In His eyes, a “loser” who is faithful is a true winner, equipped to heal and minister, just like those deserters-turned-disciples.

In the grand story of redemption, it’s not the mighty or the successful who take center stage. It’s the humble, the flawed, and yes, even the deserters, who become heroes in God’s narrative. They are the ones who are given the power to change lives and heal broken hearts.

So there you have it. We all falter, but in God’s eyes, that doesn’t disqualify us. If anything, it sets us up for a comeback, turning us into bearers of His hope, grace, and love. Just remember, you’re never alone on this journey.

Less than a week ago I had eye surgery. I haven’t said a whole lot about the nature of the surgery itself. I’ll say that it hasn’t been pleasant, but it wasn’t risky. I’m doing well, and can go back to work next week.

I’ve been homebound, which for an introvert isn’t the worst thing that can happen. What has been challenging, though, is that for the first few post-op days I had to restrict screen time – very limited computer, television, iPhone, all that. Nor could I read. Any of these activities made it feel like my eyeballs were melting and running down my cheeks. There’s an image for you – reference Raiders of the Lost Ark to complete the picture.

Thank God for Audible. There is nothing wrong with having someone else read to you.

What’s been interesting, and at times downright bizarre, is how aware I’ve been of time.

I never get bored. Seriously. I can always find something to do. Boredom seems to equate to time … the more you have on your hands, the more likely boredom becomes.

And yet, time rushes by. It doesn’t matter the state of your health, what you find to do with yourself, or how busy or idle you are. Time is time. Our perception of it is what makes it real to us. It doesn’t matter if you’re cleaning the bathtub or composing a symphony. It moves at the same pace regardless of my request to speed things up, or slow things down.

Laying on the couch with cold compresses over my eyes, in self-imposed darkness, I got to thinking about where the time has gone, and I’m talking about 67 years of time.

The usual thoughts crop up. Watching our kids grow up and start families. Experiencing body parts wearing out. Thinking about places I’ve lived, churches I’ve served, people who have crossed my path that made indelible impressions on me, and watching the seasons change.

To use a shopworn phrase: “It is what it is.” Time, I mean.

Know what I can do, though? In spite of the flow of time, I can make choices as how to use it. Things around me change all the time. I just need to make wise decisions in the midst of all that change. I am not powerless. I can choose. I have the power to choose.

You do, too. You can absolutely choose the quality of your life even if you can’t control the outcome of what’s happening around you.

What I’m seeing in these days are so many people yearning for a return to what once was, whatever that is to them. They don’t want to change unless it can take them back to a perceived better place.

Well, pilgrim, things do change, sometimes rapidly, and there is plenty that we’ll never go back to. We have to grapple with that.

I am not exempt from how life keeps moving in me and around me. And there’s a conclusion that is certain: unless Jesus delays his return (and I’m so dang ready for that!) then I am going to pass away. You too.

While that sounds grim, it’s really not. Our deaths should be a healthy consideration, because it helps us determine what we need to be about in the meantime.

It’s simple, really. We need to make wise choices. I can’t spend my life paralyzed thinking about how awful things are. I mean, we live in a fallen world. Should we expect anything other than awfulness?

What are we supposed to do, then?

Slow down a bit. (I’ve been forced to do that, and it ain’t all bad.)

We live in the midst of chaos, and it will continue relentlessly.

Try standing still.

You know what the end game is. I get the picture of storm-driven ocean waves crashing against a rock – the waves part and spray and the rock stays firm.

Beloved, you can actually choose to be that rock. Read that again. It’s absolutely true. Don’t play the victim. Don’t bemoan how awful things are. (And my mantra: Avoid the news, except for the things you can actually take action on. Feel free to watch sports and weather, though. Most everything else will put you in a dark place, and you don’t need to do that to yourself.)

Yeah, there are changes that need to be made. I’m not advocating abdicating your responsibilities as a parent, son, daughter, friend, citizen, church member, or anything like that. There are things to be improved, values to embrace and defend, and priorities to set.

Know this: if we’re going to make any changes, it’s time to do that right now, because time is limited. You have to choose, and you’re supernaturally equipped to do just that. Life is a gift, and a long(er) life isn’t guaranteed. How you choose will impact your present and shape your future.

In October of 2016 I gave up worrying. It didn’t seem to help. I recommend doing that.

Don’t let yourself get overwhelmed. Maybe just “whelmed.”

Ancient script has some good stuff to encourage you.

Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Ephesians 5:15-16

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12

As always, believer, I feel obligated to share this: Whatever you’re facing, it’s gonna be alright. It always has been, and always will be. Without fail. Easy? Probably not. The ultimate victory? It’s all yours.

Choose wisely and make things more fulfilling and rewarding for yourself.

Talk later! Responses are encouraged and welcome.

There is no shame to ask for prayer. I’m trying to work through my natural tendency to NOT ask.

Here’s the thing: I do not, not, not want to come across as needy, or craving attention or pity, or anything like that. 

You know the type. The person who is clingy, ill-adjusted, and needs to be the star in their autobiography. The person who would say, without irony, “It’s all about me.”

The flip side of this is scripture informs me that it’s absolutely appropriate to ask for prayer. That’s not being selfish. It’s being real. 

The Apostle Paul often asked his fellow believers to pray for him as he preached Christ. In his letter to the Christians at Corinth, Paul asked them to pray for him as he was constantly under duress for preaching Jesus (2 Corinthians 1:11).

Paul asked his fellow believers in Colossae to pray for him as he preached Christ: “At the same time, pray also for us, that God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ, on account of which I am in prison — that I may make it clear, which is how I ought to speak” (Colossians 4: 3-4, ESV).

We must not be ashamed of asking others to pray for us. Paul needed the prayers of his Christian family, we too need the prayers of our brothers and sisters. And those two passages I cited are just for starters – there are plenty more.

The reality is that I AM needy, and you are too. It’s out of that needful place that you and I can ask for prayer. 

I’m a case study in this. I’ve needed to ask for prayer in an acute, even desperate way the last couple of weeks. You’ll need to indulge me. 

Here’s background, and if you’ve heard all this before, feel free to skim it (yawn).

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. 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 the headaches are more manageable.

About two weeks ago, the Apocalypse. 

The mother of all migraines, which would respond briefly to meds then come roaring back. It was taking a real toll not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.

In full senior adult mode – we love to share our ailments, right? the wonderful Dr. Bridget Jones, neurologist par excellence, restricted me to the house for five days with orders to be still and quiet, which suited me just fine. Lots of couch time, limited screen time. 

The thing about brain injuries, at least in my case, is that they become part of a new normal. I’m not completely over it, it’s mostly manageable, but some days – whew. I feel as stupid as a sack of rocks, I can’t articulate what I want to say, and I generally just need to avoid people. It’s like living under a cloud. And people will say, “You look fine,” which sounds pretty good.

The thing is, it’s not like faking being sick to get out of school or work. I’ve been having to fake being well.

So, when the doc was able to work me in, which was a miracle in itself because she stays booked up months in advance, she took lots of time with me to make sure she knew what was going on. I got a toradol shot, which is a HUGELY amped-up NSAID, and I got some relief in less than a half hour.

She sent me home with this stuff called Reyvow. It’s not a narcotic – oddly enough, migraines don’t respond well to opioids – but I SWEAR, I’ve never taken anything like THIS. Yesterday morning, within about 15 minutes of taking it, I was in a zone I can’t even describe. The headache vanished. Poof. 

But the side effects … I MEAN. I was on the couch, and it was like someone had thrown a weighted blanket over me. I couldn’t move (well, I actually could, but didn’t want to!), and experienced something like euphoria. This lasted a while, and then, well, the rest of the day, I basically didn’t get off the couch. I just sort of hovered in a groggy haze. I’d googled the med and read reviews from others who’d taken it. Some folks hallucinated. Others went numb in their hands and feet. Scary, but it did what it was supposed to do. It’s a tradeoff.

I was warned several times to NOT attempt to drive. I get that. Instead of driving 2 miles to Walmart, I might end up in Memphis. And to not try to make any important decisions, which made sense … in my state, it would have been easy to put our house up for sale or something, and not know I did it. The nurse said, “Not only could you make bad decisions, you won’t KNOW you’re even making decisions.”

I went back to work a couple of days ago. I’m making it.

I needed to ask for prayer, and I did. God has honored those prayers from so many folks who have prayed.

Why am I sharing all this? It’s because I think you can relate.

Here me again – if you are in need of prayer, ask for prayer. Folks love to pray if they know of a need. It gives them an opportunity to put some feet to what they say they believe. 

One more thought. 

In a counseling session not long after I scrambled my head, I discovered that part of what I was experiencing was actual grief – grief for the old Tony and adapting to the new Tony. Once I realized what was going on – missing the old me – it brought things into perspective and sure helped a lot. I share this to say – be kind to others. Be kind to people who don’t see things as you do, or hold the same values as you. You simply don’t know what they’re facing or have faced. As I always say, “You don’t know their stories.” Don’t be reactionary and lump them in a category of “them” or “those ____”.

Everyone you have any contact with under any circumstances was made in the image of God, and if that isn’t reason enough for respect, I don’t know what is. Please be kind. Life is challenging enough as it is without you devaluing others. 

I just made myself cry. Talk later!