Ever tried to do something well and just made things worse?

I went through years trying to figure out what to do with my life. I knew there had to be more to it than just breathing in and out until I died. I needed to know if I had a purpose or if I was just wasting good air. After all, God has gone to the trouble of supplying me with gifts and talents (as He does with everyone) that I needed to discover and make use of. He showed me that I had something to offer and I decided to go back to school to learn how to use them. So here I was, a non-traditional student, beginning my college career at 32. Many people thought I had lost my mind, was wasting my time and money, and ignoring my family to chase pipe dreams. But I had finally understood that the aptitude I had for writing was no accident and I needed to give it my best shot. That wasn't hard for me because I'm kind of (OK, really) stubborn and I love a challenge. So when I became an editor for my college newspaper, I was terribly excited. I wanted to be the best at what I did, and I was determined to be awesome.
Being the overachiever I am, I soon found myself overdoing it - trying to make up for lost time, I guess. 
In my enthusiasm, I blindly raced straight into the jungle, grabbed the tiger by the tail and proceeded to fly  out of control. I dug into my beat, learning everything I could. I made countless contacts. I went after every story I heard anything about. I soon began to panic that I would miss a story. What if something important doesn't get covered? What if someone else scoops us? What if I don't get every source quoted? What if I don't catch every angle? What if, what if, what if? After being smacked and bruised by stress and fear, I landed in a heap wondering what in the world was up. I thought I was on the right track. Was this how it was supposed to be? I don't think so. I had no peace or joy about what I was doing. What I was doing wasn't so wrong as my attempt at making it all happen by myself and without experience. What I was doing was writing close to a dozen stories when I should have been writing a couple. I was asking lame questions to many, instead of vital questions to the few that mattered. I was covering a lot of generic junk instead of focusing on one or two significant stories that actually meant something to people.
The problem wasn't a lack of effort, talent or training. I wasn't plagued by indifference or incompetence. I had simply spread myself too thin and had no experience to help me get through this uncharted territory. I had plenty of zeal and passion, but not enough wisdom to to make the best of it.
What resulted was a newspaper full of mediocre stories that no one wanted to read and an exhausted me. I had been working myself to death over meaningless stuff. I felt awful that I was utterly failing exactly where I thought I was supposed to be excelling.
Then I realized that it wasn't enough to just have the talent, or even to learn the basics of how to make it function in the world. You have to practice using it. Only then will you gain the real-world experience necessary to achieve what you want out of your gift.
I imagine it must be something like wielding a sword for the first time. You sense that there's something special and right about it in your hands, an extension of yourself. This newly discovered asset is a piece of you that you hadn't realized before. You're enamored, curious; you feel like you need to know everything there is to know about it. You study it's shape, what it looks like. It feels heavy and awkward, but you are proud of this possession of yours. You realize its potential. After all, its possibilities lie within the uniqueness of you. It is only limited by your imagination. You want to make the most of it. You get the overwhelming sense that this tool must be used and used well. But simply knowing its dimensions, its color, its size isn't enough. To get the feel of it, you must take your first swing - only to find that you injure those closest to you, the ones standing by your side. That wasn't supposed to happen. How did this God-given gift become the author of such tragedy? OK, drama queen, let's back up for a minute. Mistakes happen, bad choices are made, and people suffer because of others. It's all par for the course. Though you are horrified by the damage you may have done (and it's certainly not a bad thing to be concerned), you can't become paralyzed by it. Many stop right there, never to gain any ground from that point on. Some straight-up refuse to attempt even that first swing for fear of 'maybe' messing up or all-out failing.
Problem is, as feeble or messy as it is, there has to be a first try to get to the second, the third, etc. These steps have to be taken in order to master your talent so it can become what it was meant to be. You won't ever become effective, influential, encouraging, helpful or inspiring until you realize that the risks/mistakes are a necessary part of growth. These lessons known as failures are waiting for you to learn from them. They are opportunities to discover what doesn't work and chances to figure out how to do it better and get it right the next time.
The only way you can really fail is to give up trying. (I can't count how many times I've read that somewhere. Obviously there's something to it.)
Anyway, the point is, don't get overwrought when you feel like a monumental failure. Put things back into perspective and see that life is a learning process. You have the ability to figure out what went wrong and the chance to try it again. Don't be swayed by how things appear in any given moment, because often it is not as bad as we make it seem.

It's gonna be okay

My heart is heavy today. Someone I love dearly has just experienced a loss greater than I can fathom. I can't even begin to ease her pain. Prayers and encouragement are all I have to offer, but that's the best we humans can do. There is only One who is sufficient. There is only One who can give her comfort to get through this. Only He can heal her heartache.

I am so thankful that she turned straight to Him. I'm so glad she knows that everything happens for a reason and she won't be given more than she can handle. She understands that He won't allow something that isn't part of His bigger plan, and that - even through the agony - this is the best road. He has given her His shoulder to lean on and His strength and peace to keep going.

May God bless you, sweetheart, it's gonna be okay.

What if it was you?

There once was a boy who, like most little boys, wanted someone to teach him about life and what it meant to be a man. Most look to their fathers for this role, but this little boy didn’t have that luxury early on. In fact, by the time his stepdad came along – someone who actually could show him – his mind was already tainted by doubt and fear. So, alone, he trudged through life’s lessons, figuring them out one by one the hard way. Often, he learned the wrong way, the dangerous way. And having the passionate, all-or-nothing kind of personality that he had, he suffered many disappointments that hurt him very deeply. On top of that, he never learned how to express himself. He tried to fake it, like many kids do, but that left him feeling hollow and disturbed. The things that crushed his spirit were overwhelming and threatening. Whatever the reasons, whatever the events, something – or some string of things – broke this precious soul into pieces. He was certainly affected when his father abandoned him and his large family. To make matters worse, they didn’t realize – in their own pain and attempts at self preservation – that they were unwittingly neglecting to help this already-hurting boy. He certainly seemed okay from the outside. But whatever the case, a tragedy had been set into motion, a boy was overlooked and slipped through the cracks. He didn’t know the first thing about how to put his life back together because he didn’t know what it was supposed to look like to begin with. He felt alone and rejected. The devil took advantage of this situation and whispered mercilessly to the boy that he was worthless, unloved. This message haunted him for years, playing in his head over and over like a broken record; he eventually came to believe it since nothing and no one intervened to prove otherwise. All alone with himself, he stuffed his feelings deep down inside and grew increasingly anxious, wondering what was so wrong with him that he could be discarded, deemed unlovable?

Fast forward a few decades.

The boy has grown into a man struggling to survive in a life full of rejection. It’s all around him. It’s all he can see. Still not knowing how to cope with the torment that’s thrashing inside of him, he tries to outrun it. If it can be done, he’s seen it, thought about it or tried it. Unable to rid himself of the anxiety and feelings of hopelessness, he lashes out in his misery. He unintentionally hurts those he loves. And to get away from what he’s done he has to run that much faster and harder. What he used to do to forget is no longer enough. The pain is too great. With an evil grin, addiction shackles itself to the young man. Years go by. The cycle continues, gaining speed and intensity. The man nearly loses everything dear to him. His family has written him off. He feels rejected and abandoned. Again.

In a last-ditch effort to break free from this overwhelming horror that has become his life, he gathers up all the courage he can muster and tries again, despite his fear. He tries to make new friends. He’s learned all too well that his old friends can only steer him back into the abyss. He goes out to hang out with some new guys. Some of them sit far away, saying nothing to him. As usual, he feels out of place, that all-too-familiar sense of not belonging. Perhaps one is shy, not sure of how to connect with a stranger. Maybe another is embarassed to be seen with this long-haired, tattooed rebel. What will ‘decent’ folks think? There’s a reputation to protect, after all. The man goes away feeling ignored and rejected. Again.

Another day the man approaches a woman who’s been in his shoes. He's hoping she can help.He asks if he can talk to her. She says, “Just a minute,” and turns back to scribbling in her journal. He walks away feeling all alone. Rejected again.

Another man is all too eager to come to the rescue. He knows exactly how the man feels. He leads the man back into self-medication. Hello past, he thinks, I know you. Back to square one.
The man reaches out to his wife. But she is just so exhausted from the stress of long hours at her job, financial troubles and the pressure of keeping her disjointed family from completely falling apart. She feels annoyed by his constant need for hand-holding and tries to slap a band-aid on his feelings as she rushes out the door. He sits there, alone, feeling abandoned, neglected. Again.

His kids avoid him – the younger ones because they never know what to expect when they get home from school, the older ones because they are fed up and frustrated by what he puts their mother through. He feels rejected. Again.

Others may occasionally ask about how he's doing but, for the most  part, offer only silence or indifference. He feels ignored, unloved, empty.

Suddenly he is hit with an onslaught of loved ones dying – abandoned again, not much left to cling to.

People the man respects appear to suddenly walk away from long-time commitments without explanation. He feels the ground beginning to give way beneath him. He wonders who are these people he has turned to for help and guidance?

Oh, that’s right. We’re the salt and the light of the world.

Problem is, our salt tastes like dirt and our lights are hidden under baskets. We say things like, “Hang in there,” and “Just keep your chin up,” to his face, but secretly mean, “Try harder,” “Get over it,”  or "I've got enough to deal with. I don't need yours." He screams inside his head, “Please care enough to notice that I’m doing my best! Help me!”

All the while, the devil’s laughing as his army marches forward, snatching up other hurting and broken people just like the man. Yes, he’s leading them into a trap, but they don’t see that. What they can see is someone finally standing there with open arms. They don’t even care whose arms they are at this point and they don’t need coaxing. We’re driving them right to him.

I realize we’re only human and we are just trying to get it right ourselves. But aren't we supposed to be helping each other through life instead of making it worse? So many of these interactions could have turned out more positive if we were actually putting into practice what we say we believe.

Let’s look at what happened:

The man: He keeps placing his faith and trust in the world and in fallible humans.

The man’s family: Decided the road was too hard, hurts too much. They quit trying.

Old friends: They’re lost, just fumbling around in the dark, clueless. They are the epitome of ‘Misery loves company.’

The guys: They let their personal issues become stumbling blocks.

The woman: Forgot what it was like to be in his shoes. She didn’t recognize his cry for help.

The eager man: Hasn’t made it out of the pit himself yet. His passion outweighed his ability.

Wife: Hasn’t figured out that it’s not about her.

Everyone: We don’t realize how many hurting people are watching us and our actions (and non-actions) to see if we've really found the answer or are just faking it like everyone else. We don't know what they've been through, we don't know what their issues are, and we don't realize the influence we have over them. It's time to reach outside ourselves and 'sweat the small stuff,' it has a much greater impact than we understand.

The way to do that is ridiculously simple: Apply more Jesus, less us.