Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Tired of slathered with faith

I'm tired, again. Tired of more than tired from, but tired all the same.

Last night for a few seconds till I turned it off out of absolute disgust, I viewed what appeared to be a teenager throwing puppies into a very rapid river. Video. Of murder.

Have we come to this? Have we really?

Job says in the 27th chapter of the book that looks at loss through God's eyes, "As God lives, who has taken away my right, and the Almighty, who has made my soul bitter, as long as my breath is in me and the spirit of God is in my nostrils, my lips will not speak falsehood, and my tongue will not utter deceit. ... I hold fast my righteousness, and will not let it go; my heart does not reproach me for any of my days."

As long as my breath is in me and the spirit of God is in my nostrils...

Seems like a fairly good way for the tired of to live.

What are you tired of ...

My tired ofs include

Talk about sins I can't fix in myself, much less others;
Tired of "scholars," especially "Bible Scholars" (TA,DA) who write as if they have all the answers when clearly as Rich Mullins once said God has all the answers and the rest of us are just guessing.
Tired of talk about divorce, death, homosexuality for or against, abortion for or against, ministry plus or minus, progressives, conservatives, and most especially about health care fer it or agin it.
Tired of talk about the presidency or Congress or the Supreme Court of any and all of these folks who have no answers but talk on without regret.
Tired of talk about bridges in New Jersey.
Tired of talk about definitions of marriage.
Tired of economic talk.
Tired of Richard Sherman (google if you want).
Tired of...

So, what do we do when the tiredness of life closes in? I'm reminded of the speech in Field of Dreams that begins my tears. The main character Ray Kinsella looking in at his father who, though dead, comes to the field Ray has created out of an Iowa cornfield, recognizes his father before the difficulties of life have aged him. Ray and his Dad had stopped throwing the ball to each other when Ray became 14 years old and too much into the rebellion of the 60s to be troubled to have a catch with his father.  Ray walks up to him and asks him simply, "You wanna have a catch?" I cry every time. Still after all these years.

They are tired tears, tired of missing my parents, tired of not have lived a very good life with my father. Tired of...

Tired of dealing with the deaths of persons who were loved to the end.

Tired of pain...
tired of loss ...
tired of fear...
tired of

I fear I'm not alone in this. I fear others will know what I'm talking about. I fear this because I want others to rise up and lead.

But for those of us who are tired of, those ragamuffins still searching for something, anything that is greater than themselves, Jesus provides a balm. He says come to him with our burdens and he will give us peace in return. A fair exchange, I reckon.

Tired of replaced by peace with. Tired of slathered with faith and done away with.

The only thing that I have to give in the end is the love of Jesus that was freely given to me. I offer that to battling divorcees. I offer that to those clinging to help. I offer this to the lame men walking, to the blind literally and figuratively. I offer this to the deaf, real and symbolic.

It's all I've ever needed to get past the tired ofs. It's all I've ever gotten. It's all I've ever given.

What are you tired of? What do you need relief from? What are you willing to give up to get that relief?

He's ready to help. He's ready to give. He's not tired of you or me or us.

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