What follows is something that I stole from something posted by a friend of a friend. Regardless, I think it might speak to some of you the way it spoke to me:

“Remember, this is a love story. And we will never appreciate or desire the hope of our True Love if lesser loves don’t disappoint. The piercing angst of disappointment in everything on this side of eternity creates a discontent with this world and pushes us to long for God Himself—and for the place where we will finally walk in the garden with Him again.” (Lysa Terkeurst)

I’ve been more than familiar with disappointment. In fact, recently I have felt rather beaten down by life. I have been facing a lot of challenges that have brought me to my knees with heartbreak and anxiety…but today as I read these words above something in me just clicked. I have recently found myself pleading with God over the heartache that seems to consume me. I have been feeling guilty for carrying hurt from disappointment. I would catch myself getting angry with myself for bringing it to the Lord and questioning why I couldn’t just let it go. There I was feeling like a burden for bringing my pain to the Lord, when that is exactly what He wants me to do. So this is your reminder that God is using your disappointments. When people hurt you, walk out on you, when you are made to feel as though you are unlovable and worthless, when you don’t get the apology you deserve, when you are dismissed, overlooked, and feel misunderstood, when you don’t get the job, the spouse, the child you have desperately prayed for, when you receive an unexpected diagnosis, when you lose a loved one too soon, when you feel lonely and taken advantage of, when life feels too hard to handle…He is there waiting for you. He is using your disappointment to draw you closer to Him. Friends, I pray that as you are wrestling with your own disappointment that you fall into Him with no hesitation and find the peace and hope He has waiting for you.

But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation say continually, “Great is the Lord!” As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God!

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭40:16-17‬

This got me cackling earlier today. Then I read the comment and I was dead. Done.

“I’m so tired. I saw a post about this earlier and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it and why he was composing after being dead. Deaf, Cortney, it was supposed to be deaf, you ding dong.”

Sometimes, you can be staring at an obvious and glaring mistake right in the face and not even see it. But it’s better to recognize the error late than never recognizing it at all.

I read something today that wrecked me a bit. It’s a partly funny, partly sad, but mostly beautiful story of a friendship built over laughter and that overcame tragedy. I’ve included the link to the original post at the very end.

“I remember when I first met Robbie. I was 9 years old. We were approximately the same age. We met at church.

My very first memory of him is one of laughter. Because that’s what we did when we first met. We laughed. We laughed hard. We laughed in the middle of a church service.

It was the kind of crippling laughter that makes you lose control of all muscular function. The kind of laughter that causes drool to leak from the corners of your mouth.

It was nuclear laughter. We laughed so hard we could not breath. Couldn’t speak.

The adults in the pews kept telling us to ‘Hush,” or “Show some respect,’ or ‘Would you two shut up?’

But you know how it works. The more they told us to stop, the harder we laughed. We laughed until we nearly peed our little church trousers.

To this day, I cannot remember laughing any harder than I did with Robbie Conrad.

He came from a good family. His parents ran the prison ministry. They were meek people. I remember Robbie and his dad liked professional wrestling. They knew all the wrestlers’ names. They knew all the moves.

I also remember that Robbie and his dad seemed to have a pretty good relationship, something I never had with my old man. He and his dad seemed to actually like each other. Whereas, sometimes I wasn’t sure how my father felt about me.

A little over a year after we first met, my father died. My father died by suicide, and my father tried to kill my mother, too. So it made for juicy gossip. My family made the newspaper. We became a walking stigma.

When your father dies the way mine did, your boyhood friends don’t know how to deal with it. So they don’t. Your friends just cut you off. You become a nonentity.

My Little League team dropped off the planet. The kids at school scooted away from me in the cafeteria like I had small pox. Children on the bus whispered among themselves when I was nearby, then suppressed giggles.

Even my close friends disappeared.

The week after my father died, I called my friend Gary; his mother said he wasn’t home. So I called my buddy Brent; ‘He’s busy at the moment,’ his mother said. I dialed Chadley’s number; ‘Sorry,’ said his mother, ‘Chadley just stepped out.’

On the Sunday following my father’s end, my mother took me to church. I didn’t want to go. I was prepared to be blackballed by my church friends, too. I was ready to be ignored.

But that didn’t happen. I wasn’t invisible.

Robbie Conrad marched right up to me. He was unafraid. There was nothing awkward in his gait. Nothing uncomfortable in him.

He removed something shiny from his pocket.

‘I got you something,’ he said.

I was shellshocked.

‘You got ME something?’ I said.

He nodded.

He gave it to me. It was as keychain. One of those personalized fobs, with my name printed on it.

I held that keychain like I was holding the Cup of Christ itself. In that moment, the tin trinket was the most precious thing I had ever held. The keychain meant that someone was thinking of me. Someone cared about me. Someone remembered me.

Then Robbie embraced me.

‘I’m here for you,’ he said. ‘Anything you need. I’m your friend. I’m not going anywhere.’

He brought laughter into my life during the darkest period of my existence. I remember his cheerful voice. I remember sleepovers at his house, and singing with the radio. I remember watching professional wrestling until the wee hours. I remember spying on his sister and her friends during our moments of boyhood curiosity.

I remember too much.

We lost touch over the years. I emailed him a few times. But not as often as I should have.

Today, Robbie’s sister told me that he passed away. He had been struggling with cancer for eight years, and he finally came to the end of his earthly battle.

And as I write this, there is a keychain lying on my desk. I’ve had this thing since I was a child. When I look at it, somehow I know something. I know something within the pit of my soul. The same way I know that tomorrow the sun will come up. The same way I know that God looks out for orphans and fools like me.

I know, without doubt, that the angels have never laughed as hard as they are laughing now” (Sean Dietrich).

I’m thankful for grace. More than that, I’m thankful that what I’ve received up to this point has been grace and not karma, because I know if I got what I really deserved, it wouldn’t be pretty.

I’ve been known to do and say the wrong thing from time to time. I’ve become a connoisseur of the taste of my own foot over the years, having inserted said foot into mouth on multiple occasions. I have even lost a friend or two.

But grace tells me a different story. Grace tells me that my mistakes now serve a purpose instead of serving shame. Grace says that I may not be who I should be, but I’m not who I was. Grace is not something you can ever earn or deserve but always receive out of a heart full of gratitude.

So once again, I’m thankful for grace.

Worry is a conversation you have with yourself that leaves God out of the scenario and never leads anywhere good. Prayer is the only way to deal with anxiety that doesn’t lead to either self-medicating or more anxiety. I think I choose prayer.

“Life lesson I learned today: It is so freeing to release your expectations of what others should be and what they should do for you and let them be free to be who God made them to be. It’s freeing to give grace to others and see them in the best possible light and always believe the best about them. It’s what God did for me, so why shouldn’t I do that for someone else?” (Me)

The only reason I’m putting what I wrote above in quotes is that it’s from 2012 while the rest is from today. I just wanted to clarify in case you think I go around quoting myself.

I’m relearning this lesson. It’s better not to have expectations of people and just let your expectation be that God will move in their lives just as He has moved in yours. I’m learning to operate out of hesed, giving without expecting anything in return and leaving the rest to God. After all, I’ve been the recipient of this kind of grace time and time again, mostly when I needed it most but deserved it least.

I expect that God will continue to transform me. I expect that God will transform you. I believe with all my heart that God will continue to work all things together for good for you and for me. And I believe that’s a very good thing.

For some reason, tonight I just got tired. No real reason why. I just knew that at some point around 9:30 pm that you could put a fork in me because I was done. D-O-N-E done.

But then I remembered that the God I love and serve never gets tired or needs sleep. He never wavers nor wearies. He’s the same today, yesterday, and forever. He watches over those who belong to Him. Even better, He delights and rejoices and sings over them in the night while they sleep.

And He knows. He knows all the burdens and anxieties that you carry that keep you up at night. He knows the troubles that wear you down. He has said, “Give them to me. Take My yoke instead, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Just come to me, all you who are overburdened and weary beyond reckoning, and I will give you rest.”

So I can sleep tonight knowing that nothing catches my God by surprise or takes Him unawares. He’s in charge and will keep those He loves safe and secure through the watches of the night.

This is not a sequel. This is not like the last time I wrote about a friend who will remain nameless. This time it’s very much positive and uplifting, but I don’t want it taken the wrong way, so I am writing it here.

Thank you, my friend. I can never express in words how much it has blessed me to be your friend and to get to know you. I know you are going away soon, moving halfway across the country, and I will miss you deeply.

I always look forward to seeing your contagious smile each Sunday. You have such a charismatic and winning way about you. I secretly hope that some of your enthusiasm will rub off on me. Any time I see you, my day is instantly better.

I had hoped at one point that maybe some day we could be more than friends, but I see now that is not in God’s plan, so I am very much content to be your friend for as long as God allows. I know God has someone special for you, and whoever he is will be blessed indeed.

When God brings me a wife (so I’m hoping), if she is half as outgoing, has half as much of a servant’s heart that you do, if she is half as lovely, then I think I will have received more than I deserve.

I can’t wait to see and read and hear about what amazing things God is going to accomplish in and through you in this new season of your life. I hope you will keep me posted on it all. I will be praying for you every time God brings you to mind.

I have been and always shall be — your friend.

I think this says it all.

It seems these days the culture around us is becoming more and more hostile to the Church and the Gospel. More and more, they frown upon any mention of Jesus or the Bible and try to silence those who practice their faith in the public arena.

To be fair, the Church deserves some of the blame. For too long, we’ve been known more for what we’re against than what we’re for. We have a top ten list of our favorite pet sins that we love to condemn because those are the sins we don’t struggle with.

Yet we have the message of hope that our culture needs. If the world is suffering from the poison of sin, we are the only ones who have the antidote that will save them. But I think in this day and age, we have to earn the right to be heard again. We can’t presume anymore that people automatically think that Christians are the good guys or that they know anything about the Bible or Jesus.

The way we earn the right to speak into people’s lives is kindness. We can love people outside the faith, not treating them as statistics or numbers or notches on our belts for the number of souls we saved. We can treat them the way Jesus treated people when He was incarnated on earth, the way Jesus treated us when we were yet sinners.

We can show them a better way by how we live a different way, following Jesus down the road of forgiveness and turning the other cheek. We know that the best witness that no one can ever argue against is a transformed life, so we seek that transformation by the renewal of our minds in God’s word and in community.

It’s the kindness of God that leads us to repentance, and it’s our kindness that will lead them to God. We can still speak the truth about right and wrong, calling evil for what it is when we see it, but doing it in a kind and loving way– not a harsh and condemning way. It’s not about winning arguments or proving our “right”ness, but about helping people to be reconciled with God and to find true peace. And that’s done by kindness.