At this point, I’m ready to turn off the alarm and sleep in tomorrow. Who’s with me?

Well, unless tomorrow suddenly becomes a national holiday, the chances of me getting to sleep in and still keep my job are slim to none.

So, I’ll dutifully set my alarm for 5 am (and that’s not a typo, even for me). I will finish out the week strong even though what I want more than anything is a nap. And maybe some chocolate. But mostly a nap.

Also, as much as I drone on about trying to be positive with 2020, I’m ready for the year to be over as well. But at least there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas to close out the year.

I learned a long time ago not to post any thoughts on social media when I’m tired. Usually, tired posts lead to retractions later. Also, passive-aggressive posts on social media are pointless and very non-productive (even though that statement was kinda passive- aggressive in its own way).

I’m learning that faith holds true to what is promised, even when I don’t feel like it and can’t see it. Courage doesn’t always roar, as I read once. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day that says, “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

But at least I get to sleep in the day after tomorrow.

“Abraham, at this point, has reached the place where he is in touch with the very nature of God. He now understands the reality of God. My goal is God himself . . . At any cost, dear Lord, by any road.

It is through the discipline of obedience that I get to the place where Abraham was and I see who God is. God will never be real to me until I come face to face with Him in Jesus Christ. Then I will know and can boldly proclaim, ‘In all the world, my God, there is none but Thee, there is none but Thee.'” (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest).

“If Jesus had a Facebook page… I think he probably wouldn’t weigh in much on the ‘issue of the day’. This is based on what I read in the Gospels. Just a guess.

Oh, it’s not that he didn’t care about the Big Issues. It’s that he’s the Great Physician, and injustices like the Roman occupation or even racism are just symptoms. The sickness goes deeper.

We want him to force medicine down the throats of our opponents. He’s telling us to lie down… so he can give us a heart transplant.

But it takes humility to lie on the table. Even then, I suppose most of us would likely drift to pre-surgery sleep while yet mumbling.

(‘Yeah, but it’s somebody else’s fault, you know… and what about those people… did you see… what they… did….’) Mercifully, the Healer lovingly watches us close our eyes, and he goes to work” (Brant Hansen).

I think if Jesus had a Facebook, it would be for everyone who has ever been made to feel “less than” or “not good enough.” It would be for those the world has lied to about what brings true happiness.

It would be for those who don’t have value in the world’s eyes because they aren’t pretty enough or rich enough or clever enough or savvy enough.

But Jesus says to those very people, “You are enough, because I am enough, and if I am in You, then you have more than enough and you are more than enough.”

Jesus’ Facebook page would have the simple invitation: “Come to me and find rest, all of you who work to the point of exhaustion and beyond, who never know when to stop, who have listened to the voice of those who glorify busy-ness as next to godliness when Jesus honors those who will simply sit at His feet.

Jesus’ page wouldn’t have endorsements for political candidates or parties or platforms. He would say, “My kingdom is not of this world, and My ways are not Republican or Democrat ways, but the way that leads to life.”

Jesus’ page probably wouldn’t have many followers. He might have lots of likes, but I think that just as people misunderstood Him 2,000 years ago, they wouldn’t “get” Him today. The conservatives would probably think He was too liberal and the liberals would think He was too conservative.

But for those who “got” Him back then and now, it would be like life from the dead. Actually, it WOULD be (and it really is) life from the dead. It wouldn’t be bad people made better but dead people made alive, brand new, and transformed.

This is my first attempt at a lament, so keep that in mind as you proceed. I think a lament is a type of worship that involves crying out to God over a situation or circumstance, like many of the Psalms and the book of Lamentations. At some point, the lament turns to praise. Usually, the key word is steadfast love or lovingkindness (or Hesed in the Hebrew).

O Lord, how long?

How long must your people suffer under this pandemic?

How many people must get sick and how many people die before you turn away this COVID?

Lord, you know there is so much unrest in the world. It seems that those who scoff at your name are the ones who prosper and so many of Your children are the ones who suffer.

O Lord, how long?

Will you only look and not act? Will you not hear the cries of Your servants who plead with you night and day?

But I know Your steadfast love remains.

I know that what I see and understand is so limited. I know that I see but in part, but You know the whole. In Your plan, even coronavirus can be a means for You to turn evil into good.

I and all Your people wait for You with hope. We know you will not fail. We know that Your purposes will prevail. We know You have already overcome all that makes us afraid and anxious.

We know that our present sufferings are not even worth comparing to the glory that’s coming that will be revealed in and through Your people.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

Yeah, I get it. The reason cookies don’t get all brown and soggy is because they’re probably loaded with all sorts of preservatives and ingredients that I can’t even begin to pronounce. But they sure do taste better than salads.

That said, I’m still doing fairly well on my quest to get down to around 155(ish) in weight. I seem to be eternally stuck on or around 170, but I hope the breakthrough will come soon.

The key for me isn’t perfection but progress. It’s making food decisions that are a little better than yesterday and not quitting when I mess up a bit. Still, I have a fondness for all things cookie. Especially the chocolate chip kind.

There’s nothing worse in my mind than thinking you have a chocolate chip cookie, only to bite into an oatmeal raisin cookie. That’s probably the main reason I have trust issues.

But I am still making progress. I haven’t quit yet.

When I was a kid, my family would spend summers in Christiana, Tennessee, a small unincorporated town on the outskirts of Nashville. There was a little general store called Miller’s General Store located on the main drag– the only drag– in town.

I remember the old and warped wooden floors that creaked and groaned under my feet. I remember Mr. Miller, the owner who seemed to me like he was older than dirt. I remember that you could pick up essential grocery needs, bait and fishing tackle, and rented movies, among other things. It was like something out of a movie like Fried Green Tomatoes.

One of my favorite memories is of my sister and me riding to Miller’s in the back of a flatbed Ford and getting to pick out soft drinks out of the iced cooler they kept up front. They weren’t in cans. These were in glass bottles– the good stuff. They had Nehi, Cheerwine, Kick, and Sundrop, as well as the standards like Coke, Pepsi, and Sprite. That was a real treat.

Fast forward a few years and this little general store is now a thriving restaurant. They have the typical meat and three menu with some of the best desserts you will ever put in your mouth. I look forward to every time I go there for good food, good atmosphere, good people, and– sometimes– good music.

I guess that goes to show how beautiful it is when something is redeemed and repurposed instead of lost or destroyed.

“If my sinfulness appears to me to be in any way smaller or less detestable in comparison with the sins of others, I am still not recognizing my sinfulness at all. … How can I possibly serve another person in unfeigned humility if I seriously regard his sinfulness as worse than my own?” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

“Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor” (Matthew 7:1-5, The Message).

God, I know I’m sinful, but . . .

You should really see that guy who voted for Biden last week.

You should take a look at that dude with all the Trump 2020 flags in his yard.

You should really look into those people not wearing masks.

You should pay more attention to that girl with that glass of wine in her hand seemingly all the time.

You really need to judge those people who don’t believe in a literal 7-day creation . . .

And on and on it goes.

It’s easy for me to justify myself when I compare my sins with those who sin worse than I do. And who decides which sin is worse? Me, of course.

It’s easy for me to forget how much I’ve been forgiven and how much grace it took to cover over my sins and scars and failures because my sins don’t show like other people’s do.

I may not look as broken as the next guy, but I am. Sin is sin in the eyes of God and every sin is an act of rebellion against God.

When I point the finger at anyone else, I make myself instead of God the standard of right living. I say that I know more than God who deserves mercy and who does not.

Remember, it wasn’t the man who fared better in comparison with the tax collector who was justified before God. It was the tax collector who KNEW he couldn’t point the finger at anyone else but himself who went home forgiven.

The prayer we all need right now is still, “Lord, have mercy on ME, a sinner.”

I can’t think of anything better to describe my heart’s desire right now.

I’m too foolish and selfish most of the time to know what I want or what’s good for me.

I’m like a child who wants ice cream every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, not realizing that it will eventually make me sick.

I can only see a fraction of my life and a fraction of the road ahead of me.

I need someone who knows me better than I do to tell me who I am.

I need someone who knows the way to show me where to go.

I need someone who knows my story from beginning to end and how my story fits into the bigger Story to show me how to live.

Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life” (John 14:6).

“Life is what happens to youWhile you’re busy making other plans” (John Lennon)

I think that sums up 2020 rather nicely. Think about it. When you were asked back in 2015 what your life would look like in 5 years, did anyone guess 2020? I’m fairly certain that’s a question everyone got wrong.

But here we are. It’s 2020. Full of surprises, to say the least, and a “gift” that keeps on giving– that pandemic. I’m beyond ready to be in a post-pandemic world, but that’s another topic for another day.

I still think 2020 is what you make of it. If you give in and give up, you can count it as a lost cause. But if you still choose to make the best of it and see with a glass-full optimism, then you can make 2020 great again (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Faith looks for the best in circumstances and people. Faith holds fast to the conviction that God still works all things — even pandemics– for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purposes. Faith sees beyond the temporary trials to the eternal weight of glory that will soon be revealed in us.

Maybe you took an unexpected detour this year, but that doesn’t have to mean the year’s a bust. You still can make it count by how you choose to see it– through fear or frustration or faith.