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!

🙂

Just Come

randomlychad  —  October 6, 2015 — Leave a comment

My wife and I participate in a small group study. Lately, we’ve been looking at how to share the Gospel. As a part of that process, I’ve been tasked with answering a couple of common objections:

The exclusivity of the message of Jesus, and the plethora of world religions. I may have bitten off more than I can chew here, but intend to give it the old college try.

The world as we see and experience certainly establishes a prima facie case against the existence of God. There is much suffering, atrocities, and evil. Why would a good God allow such things to transpire? On the other hand, there is much about this world which is beautiful, lovely, and sublime in way which surpasses our poor power to express it. There is an order to the universe, and a precision in the way in which it operates that certainly at the least implies design. Atheists will say that’s all it is, implied design. But according to Occam’s Razor, the simplest solution is often the correct one, e.g., the universe appears designed because it is designed. In other words, and in the words of C.S. Lewis, “if the universe were without meaning we should never have discovered that it was without meaning.”

Is it possible that both are true? That all we see around is designed, yet all is not as it should be? Pain, suffering, disease, and death certainly provide a strong argument for this. If this is so, is God to blame? Is He a cosmic sadist delighting in our struggles? Why would He go to such great lengths to create all of this only to seemingly remain hidden from His creation? Why does He allow us to flounder in the mire? Surely a loving Father would [fill in the blank]?

And there’s the rub: we’ve just gone over the line into idolatry, making a god in our image, instead of falling at the feet of the One Who is. Because the One Who is, while promising an ultimate end to evil, in the meantime chooses the much harder path of walking with His suffering creation in love. Rather than delivering us from every trial, He suffers along with us. Instead of answering our questions, our every objection, He gives Himself. This is not an answer that many are willing to hear.

So yes, the world is broken. We are broken, and our brokenness try to fill that void with whatever we think will sooth our savage breast: science, atheism, sex, drugs, alcohol, relationships, education, what have you. We move from one thing to the next, never really assuaging the emptiness. And into this mess comes the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It seems an offer too good to be true; for how can it be free? This answer to our broken selves, this broken world? Because our experience is here, in the material plane, we know that there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch, that we get what we pay for… Thus it is that the word squeezes us into its mold. Because there’s always strings, right? And we don’t want to be anyone’s puppet. That is ultimately what it boils down to, really; every objection to the existence of God, while purporting to be philosophical, scientific, logical, is really about this: we don’t want to give up control. All else–the prima facie case the world presents–is but a smokescreen to an underlying condition of the heart the Bible terms “sin.”

Because God made us free, we are free to either accept, or reject, this fact. In essence, in shaking our fists at the sky we are saying, “Don’t confuse me with the facts, God, my mind is already made up.” And then we will come up with our reasons, our justifications, of why this is so. Why we are right, and Christians are wrong. Why we’re okay. This is nothing but confirmation bias. We’re right because we’re right. I’m okay, you’re okay. Now go away.

Meanwhile Jesus is saying, “Come to me all you who are weary, and I will give you rest.”

And that is what the Gospel is all about: rest from our striving, our brokenness, our sin.

Come to Me, He says.

Come and lay your objections down, and take up the life you were made for. For His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

Just come.