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!

The Secret Places of Our Will: A Dance with God’s Purpose

“Our battles are first won or lost in the secret places of our will, never in full view of the world.”

Think about it; the personal battles we face are not fought in arenas filled with cheering crowds. They’re fought in the quiet corners of our minds and hearts, where we wrestle with our desires, decisions, and God’s will for our lives. The world may never see these battles, but they are as real and significant as any physical war.

Take a moment to consider those things you wrestle with in your private thoughts. Maybe it’s a decision about your career, family, or a personal habit you want to change. Whatever it is, know that you’re not alone in these struggles.

“You’ll never have any idea what other people are really going through. Just know that other believers wrestle with God’s will, just like you.”

Isn’t that a comforting thought? We all face challenges, and we all wrestle with God’s will in our lives. Sometimes we wonder why things aren’t going our way or why we feel a nagging sensation that something is amiss. The beautiful part of this struggle is that it leads us closer to understanding God’s purpose for our lives.

The wrestling is not a sign of weakness or failure; it’s a dance, a continuous process of aligning our will with God’s. When we wrestle, we engage, we ask questions, we seek understanding, and in the process, we grow stronger and closer to the Creator.

Now, here’s the upbeat part: These battles, these wrestlings with God’s will, they shape us into the individuals we are meant to be. They prepare us for bigger roles in life, molding us into stronger, more compassionate beings. They teach us empathy, patience, and resilience.

Next time you find yourself in a secret battle, don’t be disheartened. Embrace it! Know that in that struggle, you are finding your path, shaping your character, and learning to dance with God’s will.

Remember, your fellow believers are dancing too. Maybe not to the same tune or in the same way, but they are engaged in the same beautiful, sometimes complex dance with destiny.

So, let’s celebrate these battles. Let’s find joy in the wrestlings. Let’s encourage each other and understand that we’re all on this journey together, each finding our way, each learning our steps, and each dancing our unique dance with God’s purpose.

Talk soon!

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.

When Disaster Strikes. Sounds like a PSA, doesn’t it? It is, sort of.

We live in a fallen world, and it’s never more evident than when we view disasters – both physical and personal. We stand by helplessly and see cataclysmic forces of nature wreaking havoc – as a Mississippian, I’m way too familiar with tornados and hurricanes alike. I’d also put the implosion of the Titan submersible as a natural disaster, even though the wisdom of even getting on that thing is debatable. Personal disasters? Illness, loss, heartbreak? For sure. We all face trials that test our resolve and faith. 

But how should Christians respond when disaster strikes?

The Bible, that timeless beacon of our faith, gives us guidance. This passage has always been one I’m not comfortable with – rejoicing in sufferings? Really? It’s in there, though: Romans 5:3-5 tells us:

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts.

As Christians, our first response to personal disasters should be to stand firm in faith. Disclaimer: That ain’t always easy.  This faith doesn’t  deny the pain or the suffering we experience but allows us to see beyond the immediacy of our circumstances, recognizing them as part of our earthly journey. Remember, we’re pilgrims and sojourners, and life is a real journey, fraught with peril. 

Consider the story of Job, a man known for his patience amidst suffering. I can’t get away from this guy. Job’s life was stricken with disaster – he lost his children, wealth, and health in quick succession. Think you got it tough?  Yet Job 1:20-21 records his response:

Then Job arose, tore his robe, and shaved his head; and he fell to the ground and worshiped. And he said: ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, And naked shall I return there. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.’

His resilience in the face of such tremendous personal disaster sets an example for all Christians. And before you put Job up on some kind of pedestal reserved for superheroes, don’t forget – he’s a human, just like you and me. 

Secondly, we are reminded to seek comfort in God’s presence and promise. I’ve used this scripture several times at a graveside funeral service, but it’s always appropriate when dealing with hard times.  Psalm 46:1-2 proclaims:

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.

When disaster looms, we must remember to lean on God, drawing strength from His enduring love and unwavering presence.

Here’s another, and if you’re a control freak, this one hurts. We must acknowledge our human limitations and surrender control to God. Proverbs 3:5-6, a passage worth memorizing, says:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

Personal disasters often leave us grappling for control, but as Christians, we find solace in the sovereignty of God, knowing that our lives are in His capable hands.

Finally, we are called to love and serve one another, especially in times of disaster. Galatians 6:2 instructs:

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

Christians should respond to personal disasters by extending hands of help, offering prayers, and providing comfort to those in need. Read that again: we are servants. Don’t forget it. 

Take the example of the early Christian community, as depicted in the book of Acts. When a great famine struck the entire Roman world, the believers in Antioch chose to send relief to their brothers living in Judea (Acts 11:27-30). Their collective, compassionate response provides a blueprint for us today, teaching us that disaster response is not just about personal resilience but also about communal solidarity. We need each other. 

Personal disasters, whether physical or personal, can be profound opportunities for spiritual growth and community building. As Christians, we are invited to respond with faith, hope, and love – looking beyond the immediacy of our trials, seeking comfort in God’s presence, acknowledging His sovereignty, and bearing one another’s burdens. In the face of life’s storms, these responses not only sustain us but also fulfill our higher calling as followers of Christ.

There’s your bottom line, right there. Be well. Talk later!

I am struck this morning by how many people are living in fear.

“Why me?” Have you ever asked that?

I have, and I’ll bet you have too. I don’t think it’s because any of us feel entitled, but it is a natural response when things are piling up on us.

Why me? It’s a hard question. I’ve prayed plenty of prayers that started out with “Why…?”

Several years ago I was serving a church in Florida. In a sister church in town, a young couple were in a car accident. The husband had a significant brain injury and was in a coma. His wife died on the scene. So when this man came out of the coma, he awoke to learn that he was a widower with two preschool children.

That seems horrifically unfair. His statement was simple, according to the youth minister at the church: “Why me?”

That’s a basic, primal question.

You may think about this story and think, “That’s not all that bad compared to what I’ve faced in my life.” Perhaps. It’s hard to be objective when you’re the one that’s hurting. We do tend to judge our troubles on a scale when comparing ourselves to others.

Here’s the fact, though: In this life, you’re going to have challenges and pain. It comes with having a pulse. Your reponse might be to ask, “Why me?”

I’d encourage you not to feel bad about asking that. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or unspiritual. It just means you want answers.

Here’s a scriptural reality check:

• Yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.  – Job 5:7
• Anyone born of woman is short of days and full of trouble. – Job 14:1
• For all his days are filled with grief, and his occupation is sorrowful; even at night, his mind does not rest. This too is futile. – Ecclesiastes 2:23
• Why did I come out of the womb to see only struggle and sorrow, to end my life in shame? – Jeremiah 20:18

I could go on, but I don’t need to. These are honest statements that could easily lead to a “why me?”

There is a companion thought, and this won’t win me any popularity contests, especially here at Thanksgiving: “Why not me?”

If problems and heartbreak are part of the human condition, then “why not me?” is an equally valid question, even if it’s unpleasant to think about.

Whatever grief you’re facing, you aren’t unique. You aren’t singled out.

You may be familiar with my testimony: floods, surgeries, cancer, brain injury, murder, have all been part of my story. And this isn’t a plea for sympathy, or me using this platform to play on your emotions. My story is your story. We all have troubles. It’s universal, right?

I can  ask “Why not me?” knowing that I’m not special. I am not alone.

There isn’t any inherent comfort there. So I have to dig a little deeper. If I want to be truly thankful, there are a few more layers to peel back.

I’ve come to realize there is a natural progression for me. Maybe all of us, if we’d just take time to evaluate things.

I’m about to go all scriptural on you, because that’s all I have. It’s also all I need.

Check this out:

Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in everything; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:16 – 18.

There is an obvious truth in these verses. The command is not to be thankful for everything (how could you be thankful for the death of a child, for instance?), but rather to give thanks in everything. There is quite the difference.

It’s a matter of recognizing that we gratefully acknowledge God’s hand in all circumstances. Circumstances change, but God does not.

The challenge is for us to remain aware of God’s goodness regardless of what things seem to be on the surface.

I don’t have to tell you that’s not easy, especially when our emotions have gripped us and our feelings are all over the map.

Part of it is just realizing there is a lot going on around us that we’ll never be aware of. That’s where the “why me?” comes in. Maybe part of it simply means that we are to be open to God in all situations and recognize that not only is He aware of what we’re facing, but that He already knows the outcome.

We can, then, ask “why me” but we also understand He’s under no obligation to answer. I’m guessing that has something to do with faith and free will.

There’s a third step, then. Here’s the progression:

• Why me?
• Why not me?
• Why me?

That third “why me?” There are some sweet promises in that one.

Here’s a hypothetical:

Say a man loses his beloved wife. He asks, “Why me?”

Then he comes to realize that people lose loved ones. All the time. There is nothing unique in his loss, even as much as it hurts. He comes to be able to sincerely say “Why not me?”

As time goes on, he grows into acceptance that he wasn’t picked out of the crowd by the hand of a capricious God Who delights in inflicting pain. He realizes that death is part of living.

The result is that he is able to identify and empathize with others going through similar challenges. He’s able to touch lives that otherwise he never could have – it’s a matter of “been there, done that.” He realizes that things happen not only for his growth and maturity, but so that he can minister in God’s name to others.

The result? He realizes that he’s supernaturally blessed. Now he can say, “Why me?” He realizes that triumph has grown from tragedy, and he has a cause greater than himself. He can’t believe how fortunate he is to serve.

This is an idealized scenario, perhaps. “I could never be so accepting of my loss,” you say.

I don’t have an answer for you. You know yourself and your heart.

My point is simply we do have so, so much to be grateful for.

Why me, indeed:

• I woke up this morning in a warm bed.
• Breakfast was simple and good.
• My car started.
• Lunch was good, too.
• I have a job.

I could go on, and belabor the obvious, but we can all rightfully say “Why me? Why do I have so much and why am I so blessed? Why is there always hope? Why was I given another day here?”

It’s because you ain’t done here yet.

O be joyful.

“No one listens, and no one understands.” Have you ever said or thought that? You are not alone.

“We have learned that the places to which He (God) leads usually have nothing to do with what we think we will make us happy.” – Erin Napier, Make Something Good Today.

If you ever say, “No one listens, and no one understands,” then you might not be talking about others. You may be talking about yourself.

In all my years of working with teenagers, this was a common refrain. I’d talk to kids, and I’d hear these woeful tales of being ignored, or that no one cared about what they were going through. Or, worse, if their parents didn’t understand, then they’d use what they knew against them.

I live in Mississippi. We are prone to storms. Those on the Mississippi Gulf Coast can tell you about dealing with hurricanes – Katrina was perfectly catastrophic. Other hurricanes have hit there over the years. And tornadoes? Have mercy. Our house has sustained tornado damage three times since we bought it in 2005. Minor stuff – a tree, some privacy fencing, some roof damage – but others haven’t been as fortunate.

Right around the corner from us, during one of these storms, a big oak fell on a house and effectively bisected it. No one was hurt, but the house was split right down the middle.

Here’s where it gets complicated, and causes many to wonder about God. They might say “no one listens, and no one understands, not even God.”

While I was grateful our damage was minimal, and thanked God, I know the owners of the other house were believers, too. It’s great that God prevented damage to our house, but the assumption – and it’s a scary one – is that a positive answer to prayer is evidence that God listens and answers our prayers in a way that pleases us. A negative outcome might lead one to believe that God isn’t paying attention and therefore doesn’t answer us.

That’s Satanic. Mark Twain said that the primary reason he couldn’t swallow Christianity was because of unanswered prayers.

If your issue, then, is that “no one listens, and no one understands,” the reality is that unfavorable answers to prayer doesn’t mean that God isn’t listening.

Read Erin’s quote again. She what she said? God takes you places – and by inference deals in other ways with you – that aren’t what you wanted for yourself.

This makes for some big implications. It may be that your “no one listens, and no one understands” mindset is because you hear things from others, or even God, that you didn’t want to hear.

I won’t presume to interpret what others who don’t listen or understand are all about. It may be that they do listen and understand more than you think.

The absolutely glorious news, though, is that God both listens and understands. Think about it:

• God hears all your prayers.
• He knows exactly what you’re going through and what you need.
• God is compassionate.
• He wants to carry the load for you, because His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
• God doesn’t slumber, nor does He sleep.
• He will never leave you or forsake you.
• God’s love never fails.
• He knows your future, every detail of it.

Here is truth, for you who believe no one listens, and no one understands: Just because you didn’t get what you prayed for doesn’t mean that He didn’t listen.

The mental picture I get, and what sustains me, is that when I pray I imagine coming into the presence of God. When I speak, He drops everything, turns to me, and says, “Hey, Tony. You have my undivided attention.”

Cool.

It may be that you’ve asked for things – maybe even prayed for them – and nothing worked out afterwards. I wonder sometimes if God answering our prayers the way we wanted them answered is one of the hardest things we can experience.

We don’t always ask for the things that will help us grow. At the same time, we don’t need to self-edit our prayers. What can we pray about that He doesn’t already know? We have the freedom to talk to Him about our feelings, our fears, and our legitimate needs.

The more time you spend with God, the more you will be comforted. It’s because He listens and He understands. He’s your hiding place, your fortress, the one who gives you strength when you’re tapped out, and He cares for you.

He is never too busy with other people. He doesn’t put you to the side because He’s dealing with world issues.

It all comes down to two choices:

1. Lean on God during those hard times when no one listens and understands, and accept His protection, or –
2. Anything but #1.

It’s your choice. Choose wisely.

Comments welcome. Talk later!

I was today years old when I learned about the Reticular Activating System.

I know that sounds pretty esoteric, but stick around. You’re about to have your eyes opened.

Actually, I had heard of the RAS – it’s just one of those random things that passes through my mind filter and keeps flowing. Maybe a piece or two of information gets trapped.

The reason I’m taking a look at the RAS today is because (drum roll!) I’m about to help you understand who you are and why you do and think the things you do.

Firstly, I am daily struck by how flat-out dumb some people seem to be. That’s my gut reaction. When I back down a bit, though, I wonder – what’s the origin of their beliefs? How can they, in the face of unbiased facts, cling to some bizarre, destructive belief?

Enter the RAS. This may not be as fascinating to you as it is to me. Fine. Go read someone else’s blog.

Still here?

Your RAS is sort of at the base of your brain. It acts as a filter against the data that is all around us.

Check it out. What sounds do you hear right now? I hear the clicking of my keyboard. A fan is whirring in the background. I have my Beats earphones in, and I’m listening to the soundtrack of “Encanto,” because, y’know, we don’t talk about Bruno.

I’m eating some Blue Diamond Smokehouse almonds. I can look out the window at a staggeringly blue sky. And there are all sorts of other colors, images, pictures all around me.

It’s said there can be 2,000,000 pieces of data hitting us at once. That’s a lot.

Since our finite brains can manage only so much, that RAS kicks in. Using that “filter” analogy, your RAS only lets certain things get processed.

And what is the RAS set point? It filters out everything except what it thinks is important.

How does it know what is important? This is huge.

It filters out everything except what you focus on most. Or, as Earl Nightingale said, “You are what you think about.”

Have you ever noticed:

• People who say “I’m always late” are always late?
• People who say, “I’m not very confident” aren’t very confident?
• People who say, “I can’t lose weight” can’t lose weight?
• And – people who say, “This is a dark and scary world” live in a dark and scary world?

Like I said, this RAS thing is huge.

Hey – have you ever said anything like:

• ”I’m really bad at this.”
• ”I always mess up.”
• ”I never have enough money.”
• ”I’m afraid of losing friends.”

What happens is that your RAS will show you things that those statements are true for you. Self-fulfilling prophecies, if you will.

To drill down even further, consider this: The more proof you see, the stronger your belief that it is true.

And where do you get your proof? More on that a bit later.

So – the stronger your belief is, the more likely you are to tell it to yourself … over and over. Self-talk leads to “proof” which leads to belief.

My concern – and it should be yours, too – is that proof can be subjective. That potentially problematic RAS keeps you from considering that where you get proof/facts is fallible. You come at beliefs with your mind made up (the RAS again), and it rejects anything contrary to what you believe.

Culturally, this could impact things like your thoughts about global warming, COVID (masks? No masks? Vaccines? No vax?), your politics, your religion (or lack of it), even who you perceive to be “The Enemy.” You restrict your input to like-minded people, your favorite news sources for the truth (like YouTube), etc.

Your RAS loves this. It doesn’t want things complicated.

This is all fixable. Here are three thoughts.

1. Set your RAS to look for the positives.
   1. I am great at this.
   2. I am always on time.
   3. I am confident.
   4. I listen to diverse voices.
   5. I embrace truth, even when it’s contrary to what I want to believe.
2. If you do this effectively, then your RAS will start showing you things that verify your new beliefs.
3. Change, and the world will change for you.

People talk about what an upside down world they live in. There is much said about “living in fear.” That’s not of God, of course, but what I’m noting in these days is that fear exists all across the spectrum. I think that you choose what you’re afraid of, and it all has to do with that RAS working.

As an example, you might say:

• ”I’m afraid of getting vaccinated. Who knows what’s in that stuff?”
• ”I’m afraid of not getting vaccinated. I don’t want to end up in the hospital.”
• ”I’m afraid of what’s going on in government. It’s awful.”
• ”I’m afraid that others aren’t taking comfort in the lessons of history. It’s been awful before.”

I could go on, but you catch my drift.

If, based on what you’ve read (and I’d encourage you to do a little research on your own – I love this stuff) and you can see that your RAS can take you places you don’t want to go, consider – your RAS can take you to where you need to be. 

Here’s the punch line, and it’s a good one if you’re looking to reprogram your RAS:

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. – Philippians 4:8

Talk later!

It may feel like we collectively, and you, specifically, are in a bad way – but it’s not all that bad.

“Tony,” you say, “you gotta be kidding me.”

It’s true, though. It’s not all that bad. I’ve had a little epiphany, courtesy of a federal judge and Yale law professor named Guido Calabresi. 

You can check him out, but I want to share a little parable that he’s been telling law students for decades. It’s paraphrased, but you’ll get the gist of it, and you’ll realize it’s not all that bad.

Calabresi asks students to imagine what it’d be like if a god came to earth and offered all society an invention that would forever change and improve daily life. It would allow folks to spend more time with friends and family, see new places, experience new things. There would be, however, a high cost. If the god bestowed this invention on us, then he would also choose 1000 young men and women and strike them dead.

So, would you take the god up on this deal? Calabresi’s students would invariably say NO. Then Calabresi would deliver the zinger: “What’s the difference between this and the automobile?”

You can check the stats for yourself, but cars kill far more than 1000 people a year. In the United States, it’s about 40,000 annually. And we generally don’t give that a thought. Car accidents have always been a part of our lives. Chances are you’ve been in one or at least know folks who have been. In spite of this, we believe that cars are not all that bad.

You may be way ahead of me by now, but the point is clear: We, as humans, can be irrational about risk.

Think about it. There are things that are risky, for sure. Driving is one thing. Pollution is bad. We don’t think about that.

What we do latch onto, though, are those random and highly unlikely things. I, for one, am not a great flyer. Plane crashes bother me. The odds, though, are incredibly low that I’ll die in an airplane incident.

Other things that terrify folks might include shark attacks, getting struck by lightning, or getting kicked in the head by a mule. Or, even, dying from COVID-19. You may get it (I did), but the odds of you dying from it are almost negligible.

The companion terror to that recently has been the Johnson and Johnson vaccine. I’m not of a mind today to get in a vaccine debate … my counsel all along has been to talk to your personal physician and do what he or she recommends. They most likely know more than you do. Don’t let your Google search trump their medical degree.

Regarding Johnson and Johnson – at this writing, six women have developed rare blood clots within three weeks after receiving it, and one of them died. About 6.8 million had received the vaccine by then. Again, just playing the numbers, the odds of getting blood clots from J&J is less than one in a million.

So why do we let such minuscule things like this bother us, when it’s not all that bad?

Part of it, these days, is because so much new is coming at us. In the early days of the pandemic, we were all like deer in the headlights – as in, “What the heck is happening here?”

The media, of course, contributes to our fear. I call it “Pandemic Porn” – it’s like the news is tailored to get some sort of weird backward negative thrill from us. It’s always “look how bad things are!” And, of course, shark attacks are newsworthy, and video footage finds itself in an endless social loop.

Don’t hate, and don’t judge, but I’m persuaded that COVID is curable, because the vaccines seem to have nearly eliminated death, hospitalization, and other connected illnesses. You may disagree, but remember – my experts can beat up your experts.

Still, one thing we can agree on is that for many people, vaccinated and otherwise, there is a lingering obsession over the risks of COVID. And this blog isn’t all about COVID – it’s more about our skewed worldview, brought on by a host of factors, that leads people to think things are eternally awful. But things simply aren’t all that bad.

I can state that with confidence. Know why?

It’s because I embrace the fact of the bigness and sovereignty of God.

Here’s a little exercise: Grab a piece of paper and a pen. Make a list of everything that is out of God’s control.

Be honest. There isn’t a list to be made. Because (drum roll) there is nothing outside of God’s control.

Problem is, we act like there might be some random renegade molecule out there in creation that God doesn’t control, and that one little thing can absolutely destroy the right and righteous order of things.

You know that’s not so. Nothing happens randomly. Either God wills it or He allows it. Either way, He calls the shots.

That may be why some people reject God entirely. They don’t like to think there is a genuine Supreme Being Who is sovereign over everything. Sovereign over you, your friends and family, over all governments, over all illnesses, over it all.

It stands to spiritual reason, then, that if God is indeed sovereign, then we can face life fearlessly. Because things aren’t all that bad.

Oh, sure, with our finite human eyes, things look bad. By human standards, there are plenty of things that are bad. Cancer is bad. Poverty is bad. Racism is bad. The list goes on.

But, against the backdrop of eternity, things aren’t that bad. I am a stranger here. A pilgrim and a sojourner. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

Believer, we need to embrace the truth of that last sentence. Once we genuinely understand that, duh, God’s got this, then we can relax. He knows what He’s doing. He’s God, and He’s been at this a long time.

I don’t want to make light of the struggles you’re facing. We all struggle. What I do want to leave you with, though, is the secure knowledge that God knows what you’re facing, you are prone to irrational fears, and He understands you much better than you understand yourself. And He’s walking beside you 24/7/365.

Be well.

“The Gate of the Year” is the popular name of a poem by Minnie Louise Haskins. She titled it “God Knows.” I’ll share its best-known stanza in a moment.

A quick history lesson.

According to Wikipedia, the poem was written in 1908 and privately published in 1912. King George VI quoted it in his 1939 Christmas broadcast to the British empire. It was thought that his wife, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Consort, shared it with him. Now it’s believed that Princess Elizabeth, aged 13, gave the poem to her father.

The Gate of the Year gave comfort to the Queen Mother all her days, and was a real inspiration to Brits in the Second World War. She had its words engraved on stone plaques and mounted on the gates of the King George VI Memorial Chapel at Windsor Castle.

These are some powerful words:

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

I wish I’d written this.

So why this current fascination on my part? Let me parse it.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

Here are two fundamental wishes. These are especially meaningful when you have some hard questions and answers aren’t forthcoming (hello, 2020!)

The desire for light is self-evident. You want to be able to see where you’re going.

“Tread safely into the unknown.” If light is available, then the unknown isn’t quite as scary. In these dark days, if you knew what lay ahead, wouldn’t you be comforted by knowing? (Or not; if what lay ahead is disastrous, you might not want to know.)

There have been times in my life – and, in all likelihood, yours too – when you took a leap of faith and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Your faith was misplaced. You let the clamor of the world drown out that still, small voice. Or, worse, you “followed your heart.” Ancient script teaches that the heart is deceitful above all things. Following your heart sounds noble, but it’s not a good idea.

And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

Yes yes yes.

You’ve probably said things like:

I thought God wanted me to marry him.

I thought I was supposed to take that job.

Moving to a new house felt right, somehow.

Here’s the lesson here:

• It’s not a matter of removing the darkness. It’s a matter of accepting the darkness and prevailing in it.
• God’s hand is big, protective, and firm. He doesn’t let go of you. People might. He won’t.
• If it’s safety you crave, then the most perfectly safe place in the universe is in the hand of God, and it doesn’t matter how dark it is.

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.

Here’s a subtle nuance. The picture is of someone (you? me?) moving first and then finding the hand of God. It’s knowing that He’s already there, whether you have reached Him or not. The poet draws the picture of taking God’s hand and trodding gladly into the night. No fear, no apprehension. Just the simple joy of knowing God’s got you.

It doesn’t matter the circumstances of what brought on the darkness. They might not change.  The mandate is to be glad in those circumstances. Crazy, I know. But it all is centered in God holding your hand.

And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

Sweet.

Get this picture.

• God leads, and the journey begins in darkness.
• He leads toward the hills. Hills conceal, but there is the promise of something else beyond what can be seen.
• The day breaks in the East. There is the certainty of sunrise, and, blessedly, visual confirmation that it is indeed dawn. A new day with new possibilities and new hope.

The Gate of the Year

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.^[3]

The indifference of God. Maybe you know what I’m talking about.

If you’re a believer, you’ve been taught that God cares for you. You’ve experienced that care, perhaps.

There have been times when I’ve rested in the arms of Jesus. Storms wail, waves crash, darkness looms, and yet I feel perfectly safe. He’s got me, in other words.

Other times, it’s as though I’ve hung on for dear life. It’s like walking to the edge of the abyss, peeking over, and knowing that one misstep is certain death.

I was taught that I would never walk alone. What about those times when you don’t sense His presence at all? And before you climb up on your spiritual high horse and try to convince me that you’ve always known He’s there, I will tell you that part of your spiritual growth process is to experience the silence of God.

This is nothing new.

If you want to take this thought to its extreme manifestation, consider Jesus’ words from the cross:

“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus experienced silence. His Father God was nowhere to be found.

How are we to respond to God’s silence? Is the indifference of God even a thing?

It is not. But that’s not to say that we should interpret God’s silence as His indifference.

In the bleakest of moments, you might have said to yourself, “No one cares.” The companion thought is, “No one understands.”

These are actual possibilities, I’m sorry to say. It’s unlikely, but there are people who genuinely don’t have anyone that cares about them. And to say “no one understands” is to some degree true of all of us. No one is going to completely “get” you because they aren’t you. If you don’t always understand your thoughts and actions, it’s not likely anyone else is, either.

My Sunday School diploma gives me the authority to say this: God cares. God understands.

Don’t blow that off as simplistic or just a t-shirt slogan. I don’t think the issue is believing those statements – the problem comes in making them a reality in your life.

What can you do, then? When God is silent, are there steps you can take to assure yourself that He is indeed there and is continually present?

Try these:

1. Understand that the silence of God is not the indifference of God. God, by His nature, cannot be indifferent. He is intimately involved in every aspect of your life.
2. If you’re wondering if God cares, let me direct you toward the Cross. That’s proof aplenty.
3. God routinely takes us to places of desperation. I’d be presumptuous to try to explain why. I think it has everything to do with our personal growth and maturity in Christ. He leaves us to our own desires, and we wander far afield. Like the prodigal in the far country, He engineers circumstances to take us to a place of hopelessness. If we’re reasonably intelligent, self-inflicted hopelessness should point us to repentance. Repentance leads to restoration.
4. Part of God’s strategy with us is when He seals up the heavens and you not only don’t “hear” from Him through scripture or prayer, you can’t even tell if He’s around.
5. This is much, much different from the human “silent treatment.” That passive-aggressive tactic is deployed to make someone feel guilty or unworthy. That’s not how God rolls. Quite the opposite.
6. God’s silence is intended to move us to a place of longing. We experience a leanness in our souls. We move into a place on dependence on Him. You don’t take Him for granted anymore.
7. When the time is right – and He determines the time – He’ll break through. It’s incumbent on us to put ourselves in a place where we can hear and discern clearly.
8. Just because you can’t feel His presence is no evidence that He isn’t there. Feelings are great betrayers. Don’t base your relationship with God on how you feel.

Can you trust Him no matter what?

It’s easy to trust God when the bush is burning and you hear His voice. You can easily trust Him when the waters part before you and you can cross safely on dry land. It’s those times of silence that are disturbing.

Guess what? You are not exempt from God’s silence.

If silence serves His purposes and causes you to yearn for Him, you can count on Him to be very, very quiet.

It’s easy for me to say “hang on.” It’s much tougher to have to be the one who’s hanging. I believe your best strategy is to acknowledge that we all experience those times of silence, from the weakest believer to to the strongest saint. God trusts you enough to let you experience His silence. There is no such thing as the indifference of God. When He refuses to speak, take comfort in knowing He’s up to something big. He is going to grow you in a totally unexpected fashion.

Go with that. He’ll never leave you or forsake you.

Chill. I think you need to relax.

It’s because you find yourself in knots way too frequently. On really bad days, you can’t even suck in a decent breath. You have this sense of constriction, of the world closing in on you.

This is unpleasant (see my gift of understatement working here?)

Temperamentally, I’m not given to anxiety. Depression, well, yeah. But to spend my days bent out of shape? Nope. I just don’t find that much to get all agitated about.

I’ll tell you what is my kryptonite is along these lines. I feel that there are way too many times when I’ve wandered away from God. It isn’t that I’ve turned my back on the faith. Nothing like that. It’s rather an aimless drift, a sense of anchorlessness, of knowing where I should be and what I should be doing, and knowing that I’m not there.

I’m I hard on myself? Oh heck yeah. I can’t bear the thought of God being disappointed in me. I don’t want to let Him down. I want to please Him, because He’s daddy.

How about you? What’s your kryptonite?

• You second guess your motives and your actions, wondering in hindsight if you handled situations right.
• You have this sense of aimlessness.
• You wonder if you’re fulfilling your purpose in life.
• Heck, you’re trying to figure out what your purpose is.
• You feel indecisive and wishy-washy.
• You wonder if you’re adequately meeting the needs of those you care about.
• You can’t focus or stay on task because you’re afraid of failure.

If you’re a person of faith, then these issues are even more acute. After all, you are supposed to be standing on the Solid Rock. You’re supposed to be steadfast and unwavering. You absolutely shouldn’t be stressed … as you often say, “God’s got this!”

Of course He does. Unquestionably. Then why isn’t that a reality for you? Why is anxiety such an integral part of your temperament?

Guess what. I think you need to relax. You are just a fragile human being, who changes as much as the weather.

That is not a weakness. It’s just the acknowledgement of a reality. We are hard-wired to adapt to different circumstances and environments. We are going to have good days and bad days. Maybe even good hours and bad hours. All sorts of factors play into our shifting moods and feelings.

There are some people, perhaps, that are so steadfast that nothing deters them from their forward march. They are invincible. Aspire to that, if you will. I do think that’s attainable. But don’t beat yourself up if you don’t hit your marks every time.

That is, of course, not an excuse to be mediocre and ordinary. There’s no honor in that. I’m just pointing out that you have to be self-forgiving. And repentant – if you habitually screw up in one area, that is NOT a good life plan.

Beware of setting some ridiculous standards for yourself. Aim high, certainly. Don’t tolerate known sin in your life. Don’t be proud of being average. But keep it real.

I’m afraid many of us have been tricked by the Enemy into judging our own flesh.

In other words, we view ourselves through human eyes. I can assure you, that’s a no-fail way to feel anxious because you’re convinced that you will never amount to anything.

Do not buy into that lie. Satan knows that if he can get us to focus on ourselves with all our frailties, we’ve done his work for him. He loves to see us sidelined, convinced that we are losers, committed to a life distant and aloof from God.

Well now, grasp this:

Your faith is based on His grace and not your feelings.

The pressure is off. You don’t have to perform to be right with God. What is inherent in you that makes you all that special anyway? We are all frail creatures of dust. But because God  is gracious beyond human understanding,  He loves us just the way we are. There’s not anything you can do to make yourself any more loved by Him.

Remember, your feelings will change. You’ll have those days when you feel like a leaf in the wind.

In spite of how you feel, God does indeed have you in His grip. That’s where faith comes in – you anchor yourself in the reality of who He is and what He’s done. Grace covers all your anxiety, all your uncertainty, all your questioning, and all your confusion. He understands. Oh yes, He does.

I think you need to relax.