In the words of famous author, and noted atheist, H.G. Wells, “I am an historian, I am not a believer, but I must confess as a historian that this penniless preacher from Nazareth is irrevocably the very center of history. Jesus Christ is easily the most dominant figure in all history.” As a Christian I of course concur. And yet… despite the history-changing life of Christ, despite dividing asunder B.C. and A.D., despite dividing asunder the beating heart of one such as me, I’m weary.

Like Israel of long ago, and like the Jews of today, I’m still looking. The seemingly boundless joy and enthusiasm of the early days of my faith are sin-smeared, and tainted with a world-weary cynicism. Will He ever return? His grace, it is said, is sufficient; His strength perfected in weakness. And whither the joy unspeakable, and full of glory–the half never yet been told? Days bleed into days, into weeks, months, years.

Until they all seem the same. Sufficient unto the day is the trouble thereof, He said. And boy He wasn’t kidding! The problems stack up, and no matter how many get resolved, they come again and again and again. I can’t get ahead; rather, I’m treading water to keep from sinking. Every issue addressed is a pyrrhic victory; everything old comes ’round again…

There’s got to be more!

I’m not ungrateful, but I am tired. Life feels a weary slog through the mire. And with the weary world I watch waiting for that star to shine again over Bethlehem.

Shine, Jesus, shine! We in this vail of tears need Your light again. Won’t you shine some light today? Or must we, like Israel, continue to wait?

Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight, and sin is no more. When You are the only light. When there is no more famine, nor peril, nor nakedness, nor disease, nor slavery… when there are no more tears.

Until then, we wait.

It is a truth almost universally acknowledged that, by-and-large, people no longer know how to disagree. One need looked no further than the evening news (or favorite website). We like to think that we’re evolved, enlightened beings, but experience (life) teaches us that human beings just aren’t all that rational. If we were, whether on the right, left, or in the center. Whether cis, trans, pan, or what have you, we would all of us stop trying to make over the world in our own image. Tis a fruitless effort. Nevertheless, we continue. We see something we don’t like, that we don’t agree with, which does not affirm our worldview, and we freak right the heck out. 
This is not the exclusive province of Christians, expecting a secular company in a fully pluralistic society to get with the Christmas spirit by making cups we approve of. No, there are others who simply deny reality and demand that XYZ be implemented for them (fill in the blank). The needs of the noisy, vitriolic one clearly outweigh established social precedent, decorum, and the needs of the many.
YOU. MUST. AFFIRM. ME.
This is nothing other than confirmation bias. I’m right because I’m right, and you better get in line. Or I’ll protest your bigoted, sorry a** back to the stone ages where you clearly belong. You unenlightened, pre-cambrian haploid. Reality is what I say it is. Your view is invalid, and mine is better.
The foregoing is, of course, not the exclusive province of the liberal elite. Everybody does it at one time or another. In such a climate polite, civil, discourse goes right out the window with the baby and the bath water. We, by-and-large, don’t know how to listen anymore because we’re too entangled on our entitlements. 
How fruitless is it for Christians to seek affirmation from Starbuck’s, like we’re somehow entitled to it? You, large coffee company, must support me. On the other hand, how ridiculous is that the queer community boycotts, and indeed fires volley after volley of vitriol, at a chicken chain started by Southern Baptists? Must corporations truly affirm every life choice, lifestyle, and belief system under the sun? I submit that that is not their job. Beliefs are reflected by the actions of the individuals who claim to espouse those beliefs.
It is not culture’s, or the world’s, job to coddle us, and make us feel safe, welcome, warm, and wanted. No, that is entirely the province of those with whom we are in relationship. We can’t demand anything of the world, for it owes us each exactly nothing. Ex nihilo. That’s a zero with its rim knocked off.
The sooner we, whether left, right, center, or whatever, recognize that the sooner we’ll actually be able to make a difference in the world. In fact, Jesus said it best:
“My kingdom is not of this world.” Which means, for everyone, the best course of action is (as Jesus) is to accept this sinful world as it, not as we would have to be. Because it will never be that. It will never be what anyone of us wants it to be. For good or I’ll, it will be what it is. And not a one of us can, via cogent discourse, make a single hair white or black. Or change someone’s mind.
They have to do that for themselves.

Are you tired? Do you know what it’s like to try to sleep, only to toss and turn? And then sleep fitfully, only to waken early to answer nature’s call? Do you shuffle through the days, dreaming of your next caffeine fix? Do you long for another world because the thought of continuing on this way is just too exhausting to contemplate?

Have you been there?

I’m there, too. In the first Addams Family movie, someone asks Wednesday what she’s dressed as for Halloween; she replied, “I’m a homicidal maniac. We look just like everyone else.” And so it is with folks suffering from chronic conditions: we look just like everyone else, but oftentimes we’re dying on the inside. For myself, I have a cocktail of maladies which each contribute to an overwhelming exhaustion. I have thyroid disease, anemia, sleep apnea, and insomnia. I try to compensate for these things through a variety of means: vitamins, supplements, medicine, a CPAP machine, and caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine. There are days when I can easily consume half a gram of my favorite alkaloid. Beyond that, when one is this beyond tired, the body tries as one of its strategies to replace the lost rest, to fill the energy gap with food. I’ll eat things I don’t normally eat, hoping I suppose to top off. Even as I write this I’m slouched in my chair almost Stephen Hawking-like in my posture. Writing is as much an emotional endeavor as it is an intellectual one, and I’ve not had any emotional energy to spare. So the very thought of stringing words together in some kind of cohesive, cogent manner just makes me want to run away and cower in fear.

I just don’t have what it takes right now.

And I’m afraid I never will again.

This is why it’s been so quiet around these parts. I mean I used to love it here. I loved sitting down and writing. I loved the interaction with readers. But I feel like my mojo has exited stage left.

I feel like a shell of my former self. I mean I’m getting through, but it’s not fun. Don’t misunderstand: I don’t feel depressed, but I sure don’t feel like myself. It’s far easier to kick back, and watch TV than it is to make these words march across the page. To actually do something creative. It used to be fun! What happened to that? Where is that guy? I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be him. Then again, I figure that’s okay: he’s still here. He’s just passing through a difficult season right now. He’ll be back. He’ll find purpose again.

Jesus isn’t done telling his story yet. Else why does He allow him to continue on?

His grace is sufficient. <–I’m holding onto that. And if anyone tells me this is my best life now, they best get acquainted with fisticuffs fairly quickly. ‘Cause Homie don’t play.

Would you look at that? The words are still there. Who would have thought?

Bless you for reading.

How do you deal with your tiredness?

So, How’s Your Faith?

randomlychad  —  October 27, 2015 — 3 Comments

I have to admit that lately my faith is like shifting sand, changed by the wind. I’m treading water just to keep from sinking. You’ll have noticed that I’ve not been around here much. Work has been extremely taxing, and I’m really fighting with my sleep apnea of late. The long and short of it is that, yes, fatigue colors one’s outlook. What was once a bright and rosy world, full of vivid colors and subtle shades of pastels is now much more drab, grainy, washed out. It’s like going from HD to the kinescope of the 50s. It’s a low res world for me at the moment, and I find myself easily distracted. Carried away by the flotsam and jetsom which crosses my path. You’ll have likely seen the following somewhere online; it describes my world now:  

Unable to quite focus the work I want to do, I need to do, I’ve been tinkering with wireless routers, breaking (and fixing) my Kindle, and watching entirely too much TV. I don’t quite know how to get off of this crazy train, but would appreciate your prayers. 

Thanks!

  
That’s me bench pressing 300 pounds for the first time.  The advertised 12-week program (“How to bench press 300 pounds”) took me about 24 to complete. At present, I can complete two reps at that weight. Not bad for a 46 year-old husband and dad, right?

When I went back to do it again, there was a tattooed gentleman working out on the Smith Machine next to the one my son and I were using. We did our warm-up sets; my son went first. Then we racked the weights for my lift. The next to us took notice, indicating, “that’s a lot of weight. You know these aren’t the standard 45-pound bars. What do you have, old man strength? Are you sure you don’t need a spot?”

Thing is, I don’t think he meant to be insulting. He was just expressing his incredulity. I told him I was good for two reps. On that second rep my new friend went from incredulous to urging me on:

“C’mon! You can do it!”

I did. And I give the glory to God. If not for Him, I wouldn’t be here. As much as this accomplishment means to me, I’ll not boast in my strength. Because like life itself, strength is fleeting. Although my son termed me a “bada**” for lifting 300 pounds, it doesn’t make it so. So I will glory rather in my infirmities; for when I am weak, then I am strong in Him and the power of His might.

Now, all of that said, get off my lawn, whippersnapper! Before I show you some old man strength!

:-)