I had a little bit of church in the car on my way from work to Radnor Lake and from Radnor Lake to home. I had Aretha Franklin and The Southern California Community Choir singing Gospel music like it was meant to be sung.

It’s the Queen of Soul at her absolute best. I’m convinced after hearing this album, entitled Amazing Grace, that she was absolutely the best female singer ever. And she never sounded better than on these recordings from 1972. The title track alone is worth the price of the entire album.

As for Radnor Lake, it was as magical as ever. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening for a hike with the fall-like temperatures. I’m still amazed that more people weren’t out there taking in the perfect weather.

When I’m at Radnor, I feel a kinship with ol’ Thoreau. I definitely could get used to living in nature away from the constant overload of noise and electronics and general business that prevails these days. Some times, I yearn for the peace and quiet of earlier times when there was less concrete and more green.

But I got in 20,000+ steps and saw six deers, so I’m not complaining. I’ll take my peace and solitude whenever I can get it.

One of my favorite annual events that I always look forward to is the Greek Festival held at Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church in Nashville, Tennessee.

This year marked the 31 years since they started. I haven’t made them all, but I’m positive that I’ve been to at least 7 or 8 in a row.

They have Greek food and Greek dancing. What more could you ask for?

And to clarify, I’m strictly a spectator when it comes to the Greek dancing. I’d probably hurt myself and/or take out an entire row of the audience if I chose to participate. It would not be pretty.

Greek food is always a win. Any ethnic food that has baklava and gyros and hummus is guaranteed to be good in my book.

Rain put a bit of a damper on this year’s event, but I can still say that I was there. Thankfully, they had tents set up as usual, and both the food and dancing were great.

Next year, I plan on being there for Festival #32. A good time will be had by all.

“‘The water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life’ (John 4:14).

We are to be fountains through which Jesus can flow as ‘rivers of living water’ in blessing to everyone. Yet some of us are like the Dead Sea, always receiving but never giving. Whenever the blessings are not being poured out in the same measure they are received, there is a defect in our relationship with Him. Stay at the Source, closely guarding your faith in Jesus Christ and your relationship to Him, and there will be a steady flow into the lives of others with no dryness or deadness whatsoever” (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest).

I couldn’t agree more.

If all you do is receive and never give back, there will come a saturation point when you will cease to be able to take anymore in. It will all become just words and sounds.

Maybe if you feel like you’ve lost the ability to hear God speak, it’s because it’s time to take what He’s already told you and pour into the lives of others. In the life of faith, it’s always better to be a sharer rather than a hoarder.

I think I remember reading once that when you hear a sermon or a lecture, you retain a very small amount. When you hear it and write it down, you retain more. When you listen with the intent to pass it along to someone else, you retain much more. Best of all, when you listen and then put it into practice, you will not merely retain knowledge but be transformed, which is far better.

I think I’d do well to take some of my own words to heart more. I hope that you and I will continually find people in your life that we can pour into.

I realize that it’s been a four-day work week. I also realize that it’s Thursday, which means that tomorrow is the day that inspires happy dances everywhere, better known as Friday.

I’m learning how to appreciate the weekdays as much as the weekends, so that I’m not rushing from one weekend to the next, missing out on 5/7ths of my life.

But still, Fridays are nice. It’s like a little reward for surviving whatever the work week threw at you.

It’s even nicer still when you get to sleep in on Saturday.

Tonight, I began a six-week class covering the Minor Prophets. I believe they’re called that because none of them could hit a curve ball and make it to the majors, like Isaiah and Jeremiah.

There’s a reason why you hear precious few sermons from these little books at the end of the Old Testament. They’re not easy reads. They can get brutal and brutally honest at times.

The reality is that sin and the consequences of sin are serious business. God doesn’t wink at our sin and brush it under the proverbial rug. As a pastor once said, sin always has a cost, and that cost always involves death. We die a little every time we give in to the choice of sin.

But underneath all the woes and warnings is grace. Even in the scary Old Testament, there’s grace. On the flip side of justice is mercy.

The Gospel isn’t “I’m okay, you’re okay. Let’s all just try a little harder to be nice to people.”

The Gospel is “I’m broken. You’re broken. We’re all messed up because sin entered the picture and messed everything up. Sin has a price, but Jesus paid that price by taking the punishment of that sin fully upon Himself on the cross.

Grace isn’t denying sin but declaring that you can be saved from it to an abundant life in God. Up until your last breath, there’s always a chance for grace.

I confess that these Minor Prophets aren’t something you pick up for a light summer read. There’s a lot that I don’t like in there, but if I’m honest, I know that says more about me than about the Bible. That means something in me needs to change.

So begins a fun quest to cover 14 little books of the Old Testament in 6 weeks. I think I’m up for the challenge.

I honestly can’t think of a single solitary thing I can add to that, so I’ll let it speak for itself. That Elisabeth Elliot was a very wise woman.

I’ll be honest. Ever since I started my quest to watch all the Classic Doctor Who episodes, a small part of me has been looking forward to the Peter Davison era.

I grew up watching All Creatures Great and Small, with Mr. Davison as Tristan Farnon, so I eagerly anticipated seeing him as the Doctor. So far, so good.

I can imagine he had big shoes to fill, stepping into the role after everyone’s beloved incarnation of the Doctor, Tom Baker, had ended his 7-year run in the role. But he seems to have risen to the challenge admirably, at least as far as I’ve gotten so far.

That’s the genius of Doctor Who. Every few years, whenever the show gets stale or whenever the actor wants to move on, the character goes through a regeneration and transforms into a new personality. There’s really nothing in American television that even comes close to it in terms of longevity or popularity.

Once again, thanks to the good folks at Britbox for making this beloved classic series accessible again (and for turning my wish to see all the surviving classic episodes from a pipe dream into reality).

It’s been spiffing great fun.

It’s September 2, the day before Labor Day, and it’s still muggy where I live. It can be deceptively mild the first moment you step outside, but give it a moment, and once you’ve done some time in the outdoors, your sweat glands will begin working overtime. At least mine do.

I anxiously await in 20 days the advent of fall. Not because the temps will automatically drop to fall-like weather, but because I know the end of hot stinky heat draweth nigh.

Until then, I thank God every day for air conditioning and iced water.

Tonight, I finally got around to watching an animated film called Loving Vincent. Actually, the film was entirely hand-painted by over 100 artists over what I imagine was a considerable amount of time.

Visually, the film is stunning. It’s like stepping inside of a Van Gogh painting and watching it come to life. All his paintings that I’ve loved for a long time were in there at some point.

The story was beautifully told and more than just a little sad. Vincent Van Gogh was an incredibly talented painter who only sold one painting during his lifetime. He took his own life because he was tired of feeling useless and didn’t want to be a burden on his brother anymore.

In a career that lasted just 8 short years, Van Gogh produced 800 paintings, many of which are now worth in the millions. It seems a pity that he died never knowing his own true worth.

Maybe the people in our lives need to know their true worth. Perhaps we should quit assuming that people know how we feel about them, about how God feels about them, and let them know in our words and actions.

With the recent upsurge in suicides, it’s vital that we address the issue of mental illness and increase awareness of a subject that sadly is still too often seen as taboo or a stigma. People who suffer severe depression and anxiety, as well as other maladies, need to know that they are not alone and that people out there do care for them. They need to know that there’s hope and help out there.

I definitely recommend Loving Vincent. I believe it’s available through Amazon Prime and Netflix. It’s an hour and a half well spent.

It feels like more and more we’re confronted with the growing reality that more people are choosing suicide as a way out of severe depression and anxiety. It hit very close to home recently when a lead pastor in California took his own life.

At some point, I probably bought into the idea that pastors were somehow superhuman and above such things as depression, anxiety, addiction, and mental illness. Society has turned the contemporary pastor into kind of a rock star with unrealistic expectations of what he should or should not be or do.

I’m beginning to understand that the role of pastor isn’t for the faint of heart. In fact, it’s impossible unless a person is called and equipped by God through the Holy Spirit. Even then, there are times when it can be overwhelmingly stressful.

Maybe this is a call for all of us to pray for our pastors and church leaders. Maybe it’s a wakeup call for us to realize that we are all called and sent, not just the ones who get paid for it. We can’t expect one person or one small group of people to do all the work.

The Great Commission isn’t for a select few. It’s for all of us.

I read this open letter than Kayla Stoecklein, wife of Pastor Andrew Stoecklein who took his own life, wrote to him. It’s completely heartbreaking but I think it’s something every believer should read to understand the reality of what he suffered through.

http://godsgotthis.org/post/177492799313/to-my-andrew-its-only-been-3-days-nothing-can

I’m reminded of something Ruth Bell Graham said about when a believer takes his or her own life. She said that when a child of God ends their life, God hasn’t called them home but welcomes them home just the same.

If you’re one of the ones who battle depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, do not struggle alone. Find someone to confide in and get help.