Soooooooo Tired

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This is my experience lately. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you can’t. So here goes.

I basically am on the go at work from 7:30 straight through until 4 pm (taking 30 minutes for lunch).

From there, I headed south to the Goodwill on Highway 96 where I made some good $2 music finds. Those are always the best kind.

After that, I walked over to Bar-B-Cuties for a stellar dinner, including the world’s best fruit tea. If you’re ever at a Bar-B-Cuties, you should try it.

Following the grub, I went in the direction of a friend’s house where I attend a Life Group, but I stopped off at a pet store because I would have been super early to his place. I browsed and bought a little something for the cat.

After all that, I made it to my friend’s house and finally sat down. Then I was tired. Really tired.

It’s funny how that works. As long as you’re on the go, you don’t realize how drained you are. Not at least until you stop. Then all that activity catches up with you.

As much as I’d like to fall back a couple of hours tonight so I could sleep extra, that’s not the best kind of rest.

The best kind of rest is the kind Jesus promises to all those who are weary and heavy-laden. He says, “Come to me, all you who work to the point of exhaustion and I will give you real rest.”

Not necessarily sleep, although that is sometimes part of it. What Jesus means is the rest from striving to perform in order to measure up to some artificial standard (either your’s or someone else’s). It’s ceasing from feeling like you always have to do more and be more to be complete and fulfilled.

Jesus says, “I love you just as you are, not as you should be or as you wish you could be or how everyone else wishes you would be. Come to me, right now, just exactly the way you are, and I will get you to where and who you need to be.”

That’s true rest.

 

Just Pray: Yet Another Guest Blogger Post

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I heard this tonight at our churchwide prayer event at The Church at Avenue South. It’s not really a blog. It’s an excerpt from Prayer, a book by Richard Foster (who also happened to write a little book you might have heard of called A Celebration of Discipline.

What follows is a bit lengthy but so worth the time it takes to read it:

“And so I am telling you. I am telling you that God is inviting you — God is inviting me — to come home; to come home to where we belong; to come home to that for which we were created. His arms are stretched out wide to receive us. His heart is enlarged to take us in. For too long we have been in a far country — a country of noise and hurry and crowds; a country of climb and push and shove; a country of frustration and fear and intimidation.

And he welcomes us home — home to serenity and peace and joy; home to friendship and fellowship and openness; home to intimacy and acceptance and affirmation.

And we don’t need to be shy. He invites us into the living room of his heart where we can put on old slippers and share freely. He invites us into the kitchen of his friendship where chatter and batter mix in good fun. He invites us into the dining room of his strength where we can feast to our heart’s delight. He invites us into the study of his wisdom where we can learn and grow and stretch and ask all the questions we want. He invites us into the workshop of his creativity where we can be co-laborers with him, working together to determine the outcome of events. And he invites us into the bedroom of his rest where new peace is found, and where we can be naked and vulnerable and free. It is also the place of deepest intimacy where we know and are known to the fullest.

The key into this home, which is the heart of God, is prayer. Perhaps you have never prayed before except in anguish or terror. It may be that the only time the divine name has been on your lips is in angry expletives. Never mind. I am here to tell you that the Father’s heart is open wide to you –you are welcome to come in.

Perhaps you do not believe in prayer. You tried to pray before and were profoundly disappointed … and disillusioned. You have little faith, or none. It does not matter. The Father’s heart is open wide to you — you are welcome to come in.

Perhaps you are bruised and broken by the pressures of life. Others have sinned against you and you feel scarred for life. You have old painful memories that have never been healed. You avoid prayer because you feel too distant, too unworthy, too defiled. Don’t despair. The Father’s heart is open wide to you — you are welcome to come in.

Perhaps you have prayed for many years but the words have grown brittle and cold. Little ever seems to happen anymore. God seems remote and inaccessible. Listen to me. The Father’s heart is open wide to you — you are welcome to come in.

Perhaps prayer is the delight of your life. You have lived in God’s love for a long time and can attest to his goodness. But you long for more. More power, more love, more reality in your life. Believe me. The Father’s heart is open wide to you — you too are welcome to come higher up and deeper in.

If the key is prayer, the door is Jesus Christ. Isn’t it good of God to provide us a way into the Father’s house? God knows that we are stiff-necked, hard-hearted, far-off. And so he has provided a means of entrance — Jesus, the Christ, lived, died, and rose from the grave that we might live through him. This is wonderfully good news. No longer do we have to stand outside barred from nearness to God by our sin and rebellion. We may now enter through the door of God’s grace and mercy in Jesus Christ.

Listen to me, Jesus receives you just as you are, and he receives your prayers just as they are. Just like a small child cannot draw a bad picture, a child of God cannot utter a bad prayer.”

God with Dirty Fingernails

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I posted this on Facebook a year ago and was still blown away by how powerfully it spoke to me. I hope it speaks to you in the same way.

“As I looked out over the shivering crowd, I suggested that perhaps Mary Magdalene thought the resurrected Christ was a gardener because Jesus still had the dirt from His own tomb under His nails. Of course, the depictions in churches of the risen Christ never show dirt under His nails; they make Him look more like a wingless angel than a gardener. It’s as if He needed to be cleaned up for Easter visitors so He looked more impressive and so no one would be offended by the truth. But then what we all end up with is a perverted idea of what resurrection looks like. My experience, however, is that the God of Easter is a God with dirt under His nails.

Resurrection never feels like being made clean and nice and pious like in those Easter pictures. I would have never agreed to work for God if I had believed God was interested in trying to make me nice or even good. Instead, what I subconsciously knew, even back then, was that God was never about making me spiffy; God was about making me new.

New doesn’t always look perfect. Like the Easter story itself, new is often messy. New looks like recovering alcoholics. New looks like reconciliation between family members who don’t actually deserve it. New looks like every time I manage to admit I was wrong and every time I manage to not mention I was right. New looks like every fresh start and every act of forgiveness and every moment of letting go of what we thought we couldn’t live without and then somehow living without it anyways. New is the thing we never saw coming – never even hoped for – but ends up being what we needed all along.

‘It happens to all of us,’ I concluded that Easter Sunday morning. ‘God simply keeps reaching down into the dirt of humanity and resurrecting us from the graves we dig for ourselves through our violence, our lies, our selfishness, our arrogance, and our addictions. And God keeps loving us back to life over and over.‘” (Nadia Bolz-Weber, Pastrix)

Our old dog

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I had to reblog this, even though parts of it are unbearably sad. I couldn’t not repost this. Enjoy. 

It’s not fair to write about a dying dog. Just those last two words are enough. Automatic tears. So I understand if you stop here. But I need to say a few words about our old dog Fred. It’s not all sad. Not even mostly. I’ve been meaning to write this for months, with […]
https://tommytomlinson.wordpress.com/2015/09/17/our-old-dog/

Out Among the Stars

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“Oh, how many travelers get weary
Bearing both their burdens and their scars
Don’t you think they’d love to start all over
And fly like eagles out among the stars?”

I had Johnny Cash keeping me company on my drive home from work today. Not literally, as that would be a bit creepy.

I had a CD of his that I checked out from the library. It’s an album of previously unreleased material that Cash recorded back in the early 80’s. I don’t know why these songs didn’t see the light of day until recently. I’m not a music exec.

I do know that the song “Out Among the Stars” spoke to me, particularly the chorus.

How many out there are carrying burdens and scars from a lifetime of things they did and things done to them? How many cry out incessantly for a chance for a do-over?

The beautiful thing about the Gospel is that it is the Gospel of Second Chances and Do-Overs? When you belong to Jesus, what you did in the past no longer matters. It’s who you are now that counts. It’s WHOSE you are now that really counts.

Sure, past actions have present consequences. But those actions don’t have to define you or the choices you make today. They don’t have to determine your future.

There’s a line in an old Switchfoot song that I love: “Every breath is a second chance.” That’s what Jesus offers. Not just one second chance, but multiple do-overs. In fact, each new morning is a clean slate filled with God’s new mercies and lovingkindness.

That’s what I cling to these days. That’s what I hold on to on those dark and dreary days.

By the way, that Johnny Cash CD is worth picking up if you haven’t purchased it already. Just follow this link:

http://www.amazon.com/Out-Among-Stars-Johnny-Cash/dp/B00H5D52VC/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1444098675&sr=1-1&keywords=johnny+cash+out+among+the+stars

Thomas Edison and the Power of Words

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This may be apocryphal, but it still makes an important point. You become what the people closest to you say you are. Not all the time but most of it.

If you grow up with parents who genuinely champion you, you will most likely succeed. If you have parents who demean and belittle you, you will either settle for mediocrity or have a much harder time overcoming those negative sentiments.

Do you know that the God of the universe is crazy about you? He looks at you and sees something good that He created. He sees His Beloved. He sees Jesus.

Maybe if we looked for the best in others and pointed it out to them when we saw it instead of competing with and criticizing them, both we and they would turn out to be better people than we currently are.

Just food for thought.

Dog-Sitting in the ‘Boro II

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As I type this, ol’ Remy is in the corner of the bedroom, snoring like a grown man with serious sinus issues. And she is not even caring.

I did absolutely nothing today and it was great. I felt like the main guy from the movie Office Space whose goal in life was to be able to get to the point where he could spend his days doing nothing. While that is not my life’s ambition, it was nice for a day.

Slow days are good for you.

For one, no one is designed to go 24/7 constantly without some down time. God meant for us to have margins in our lives, which is one of the main reasons He set up the Sabbath.

Remy sure knows about rest. She gets a lot of it. When you get to be an old dog like her , you’ve earned it.

Dog-Sitting in the ‘Boro

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This weekend will most likely be a low-key affair for me. I’m once again dog-sitting, this time in Murfreesboro for some family friends.

The dog in question is a 10-year old bulldog named Remy. She just loves to be petted and is a noisy breather. She also snores when she sleeps, which is often considering her age.

I love dogs. I love cats, too, seeing as how I own one. I pretty much love just about all animals, because they know how to keep it simple, something we humans tend to forget.

They love you no matter what with a kind of love that is pure in its simplicity and honesty. 

So I don’t have anything special planned except for hanging out with one furry kid for the next two days. That’s okay by me.

Django and Jimmy and a Busted Thursday Night

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The bad news is that my Thursday night ended up being pretty much of a bust. Nothing worked out quite the way I had hoped it would. The good news is that I was listening to some great music while all my best laid plans went kaput.

First of all, the good. How can you go wrong with Willie Nelson AND Merle Haggard one one album? What you get is 14 tracks of awesomeness and some seriously old-school country music by folks who know what country music should sound like.

http://www.amazon.com/Django-Jimmie-Willie-Nelson-Haggard/dp/B00VXGTJMU/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1443750246&sr=1-1&keywords=django+and+jimmie+willie+nelson+%26+merle+haggard

The bad? I was supposed to lead a Life Group that met at the Starbucks on Franklin Road in Brentwood. I found out that it’s kinda hard to lead when you’re the only one to show up. Still, it wasn’t so bad. I had my pumpkin spice latte, Harper Lee, and Netflix to keep me company. Also, I did my fine dining with a chicken bowl at Chipotle (although I overdid the Tabasco Chipotle sauce just a tad).

The ugly was me showing up at Hudson Hall, thinking I would find a little peace and quiet, forgetting that it was Girls Night Out, which means No Boys Allowed and Me Feeling Like a Doofus and Doing My Best Joey Tribbiani Impression aka Not My Brightest Moment Ever.

Also, all the parking lights were out in the church parking lot, which was a bit creepy. Especially on a coldish, rainy night.

Back to the good news. Even though Thursday, October 1, won’t go down as the greatest day in the history of Greg, it still only lasts 24 hours. I get a new day (which just so happens to be Friday) tomorrow. I get to dogsit for some family friends in Murfreesboro over the weekend.

Life’s better when you count your blessings instead of nursing your wounds. Gratitude makes every situation better, because it helps you to see God in every situation more clearly.

Plus, pumpkin spice anything makes the day better.

 

Revisiting a Favorite Quote

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I love the movie A River Runs Through It. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen it, because I’ve actually lost count.

I love everything about the movie, from its perfect casting to the story of a Presbyterian minister who imparts his love of fly fishing to his two sons. Particularly, I love the poignant storyline of the younger brother who is so immensely likeable but destined to keep making poor choices.

In the end, that son makes one poor choice too many and it costs him his life. At his funeral, his father imparts these words which have spoken to me in my own seasons of loss:

“Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true, we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them – we can love completely without complete understanding.”

That’s the key. You can’t always help those closest to you, but you can always love them. After all, that’s what God did for us. Let these words soak in for a moment:

“Christ arrives right on time to make this happen. He didn’t, and doesn’t, wait for us to get ready. He presented himself for this sacrificial death when we were far too weak and rebellious to do anything to get ourselves ready. And even if we hadn’t been so weak, we wouldn’t have known what to do anyway. We can understand someone dying for a person worth dying for, and we can understand how someone good and noble could inspire us to selfless sacrifice. But God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him” (Romans 5:6-8, The Message).