Overwhelmed: The Loss of Life to Numbness

For months . . . years . . . the one word that keeps popping up in my personal journal is “overwhelmed.”

Photo Credit: Julia Freeman-Woolpert (stock.xchng)

The everyday barrage of life events used to be enough to tire us and send us to our beds, eager to escape the rushing torrents. But now those commonplace things are almost like white noise in the background of a screaming world. Some of that shrieking is an intentional tactic of those who want to sell us something or divert us from the truth. On the other hand, many of those cries come from those who have been broadsided by life — hurricanes, cancer, poverty, being rolled over by people of privilege who are blind to the consequences of their indifference to others, disconnection from family, death.

Overwhelmed. Do you feel it sometimes?

As I’ve reviewed those journal pages, the notes surrounding this word are often filled with despair, attempts to fix blame on someone other than myself, a desire to exchange my life experience with someone who takes on each day with grace and energy. In other words, a cry for change and relief.

Psalms 77 is an odd text for someone like me — an unschooled theologian taught only by surface readings of scripture, bullet points from countless sermons, and the constant desire to have all of the answers. I hope you’ll turn to this little missive and read it in its entirety.

But you’re probably busy right now and reading this as you scan through dozens of email. In case you are a little overwhelmed and can’t find your way back, let me give you a summary.

  • I reached out to God.
  • He didn’t answer.
  • I find this unsettling because He told me to call.
  • I lost sleep.
  • I momentarily lost hope.
  • Then I remembered.
  • I remembered when God delivered me.
  • I remembered when God gave me some incredible gifts.
  • I remembered that some of those gifts weren’t for me alone. They were meant to be shared with others on the journey.
  • And I was satisfied with all of that.

When I’m overwhelmed and I’m desperately trying to move the challenges around me into something I can handle, I am always surprised. By the kindness of a stranger. The concern of a friend. A moment of mercy when justice was deserved. Evidence, even in the face of tragedy, that I am loved by a God who has stirred himself to love me and everyone else.

Overwhelmed?

 

Grieving Charlottesville. There is no legitimate place for white supremacy. It’s not a political ideology. It’s racism. Treating others as less than equal is nothing less than wrong. Support leaders and movements that make this clear.

Joey Cope
Joey Cope

Why Do You Dream the Dreams You Dream?

Do you catch yourself dreaming during your waking hours? What are those dreams? Where do they come from? Why do you dream?

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photo credit: Oliver Lein, unsplash.com

Recent research indicates that your sleeping dreams are generated from your brain stem. Perhaps this is a maintenance function that allows you to process things that have been clogging up your higher thinking processes. What we do know is that people often wake up with answers to questions that plagued them the night before or with insight that escaped them after days of attempts at rational thought.

The dreams I have during quiet moments of wakefulness never seem to be like that. If they are truly dreams, then they are projections of reality — a wish, a hope, a . . . well, a dream. These thoughts are fairly well-formed. They have some degree of substance. And almost always, they bear a price. The concoctions of the mind that come easily and cheaply don’t seem to rise to the status of true dreams.

We can become lost in these dreams. Or we can experience these thought-filled moments with an expectation of finding ourselves and our place on a path. That moment of discovery is the seed of vision. As I wrote in an earlier post, I believe that vision is simply a dream with a pathway to make it real.

Not all dreams should result in vision. Let’s face it some dreams are just dreams. In fact, some are pipe dreams — wishes that are almost impossible or impractical to achieve.

But what about those dreams that call to you? Why do they keep coming back?

I wonder what fuels my waking dreams and I’m an eager witness to the dreams that edge their way towards vision. I’d love to hear yours someday. And I am really interested in how you invest in those dreams to produce vision.

Evaluation: asking questions and doing something with the answers

Why "Rut-Living" is Such a Powerful Force

I live in a rut. My view from here is a dirt floor and two dirt walls extending as far as the eye can see. My initial evaluation of my situation makes me tired. I can definitely climb out of this rut and do things differently. Yet that would require asking hard questions, making difficult decisions, and investing time and resources into something less predictable than this rut.

Don’t get me wrong or hear this as a complaint about the rut or some kind of creepy cry for help. I am truly blessed. But in my sixth decade of life on this planet, I still have dreams.

Some of you know that my choice of the word “dreams” has significance. I almost always prefer “vision” over “dreams.” My self-imposed working definition of “vision” is a dream with a clear or emerging path to achieve the dream.

I know dreamers. Wonderful people. Hearing them talk warmly about their dreams is a pleasant experience for all of us within earshot. With some of these folks, you can tell that their dreams will always exist in the land of unicorns and cotton-candy rainbows simply because they will never do anything to achieve them. This does not make them any less wonderful. Although, if the dreamer is someone in your life who is supposed to be leading or making something significant happen, watching dreams die a slow death is truly frustrating.

When you live in a rut, you can have dreams. And unless life has really beat you down, rut-living can be an awesome inspiration for many, many dreams.

For a good part of the almost four years I have been in my sixties, I have made a point of telling people that I am getting old. I do that to some extent because I want to acknowledge the gray and absent hair, the hearing loss, and the embarrassing slide to rut-living contentment I sometimes feel. But my dreams plague me. And, upon further thought, they frustrate me because few of them connect to vision anymore. There are no clear paths ahead for some of these great ideas or zany inspirations.

I often counsel younger individuals to evaluate — to ask questions and then to be honest about the answers that come. Without evaluation, rut-living becomes pretty appealing. Ultimately, it becomes an excuse to stop planning and, in essence, stop engaging in making the world a better place.

So, if you’ve been my next door neighbor in Rut World, won’t you join me in some good old-fashioned evaluation? If you read the news, you know that there is a deep need for people with vision. Let’s be part of that movement.