A number of my friends and I were recently talking. Most of them unemployed. They’ve been for many months. A few have been searching for more than a year.

The talk was about fruitless interviews, endless applications and useless job fairs. There is pain — and failure — in their eyes.

They’re all my age, stuck in the middle of life, feeling a little lost. Their career path is irrelevant in the modern economy. Their training is out of date. their experience worthless. They look at their hands that turned nuts and laid tile and built computer components and they wonder what’s next.

A change in the economy, a turn in legislation or a restructuring and it could be me, looking at my own hands.

Billy Coffey’s main character in Snowday reflects on his own mid-life.

“I’m just a man. Not too bright and not too stupid, not too rich and not too poor, not too happy and not too sad. A middle-of-the-road, ordinary man. That was me. Nice to meet you.”

A lot of us guys — and girls — can relate. We all had big dreams at some point in our life. We all wanted to change the world — find a cure, feed the hungry, start a successful business. But through a series of events, we are where we are.


How in the world did I get here?

Coffey says

“There are two things every decent person possessed in his or her life. One is a set of lofty goals that rise just out of reach and the other is a desire to do something good for the world.”

Photo by Lisa

My life is pretty darn good right now, and the good news is that the best is still to come. God, give me goals and help me make a difference.

By His grace, these hands, this mind, this body can still be of use.

How about you? Comments here.

Whether you’re a painter, a preacher, a blogger, a sculpter or an inventor, we’re all joined at the hip as we dive into the mysterious waters of notoriety.  Secretly, we  hope for the synergy and massive audience that will put our work in demand. But the truth is that most of us will never achieve any kind of critical mass. We’ll just plod on in anonymity. Am I fine with that? 

I interact with many writers at all skill levels. As in any art, the talent runs the gamat. There are some skilled craftsman who have the ability to tap into our minds and hearts with their words. They have a message that needs to be heard.

And there are others who are just writing because they have a desire to say something. Their skill is not exceptional, but they have heart and desire.  It does their soul good and there’s a place for that. 

Few writers will ever see their name in print. My advice to them? Just write. It doesn’t matter if you are never discovered, never published, and never lauded in magazines. It doesn’t matter as long as you are writing to the right audience. And that audience might be limited to your friends or family. That audience might just be you. Or it might be God.

Let’s be honest. The artist lives for the applause. The painter wants people to tilt their head and ooh and awe over the lines and the shadows. The writer wants to engage readers in emotion and response. The singer looks for the roar of emotion at the end of the song.

All of these things feed the ego, which does serve a purpose. It’s the ego that keeps us going, that motivates and moves us. It gives us confidence. We want to make a difference and we will never know unless we hear something, anything.  Am I any good at this? Am I effective? 

Photo by Karenee Art, by permission

I wonder if we should just chuck the whole ‘social engagement’ thing. Wouldn’t it be easier just to have an audience of One?

If I write for the admiration of the reader, then I will be motivated to tickle their ears and win their admiration. But if write for Him, then I’ll be free in my spirit.

If I write strictly for the hoi polloi, then I’ll be possessed with likeability, friends and popularity.

But if I write for Him, I’ll listen, learn and put words to the song in my heart.  

“If no one else listens, that’s fine,” I say in my low-keyed-holy-sounding voice.  But, is it possible? Can I be freed of the shackles of praise, the false premise of cyber- friends, the laudatory words of strangers? Can I just write because the words ring true in my heart, breathed by His Spirit, and spoken by a broken man? 

While I want people to read me and I always am flattered and honored with words of praise, I hope that when it all boils down to it, I’m writing for the right reason.  That gives me boldness. That gives me confidence.

Is it possible to write, or dance, or work, or sing, or labor, or preach for an audience of One? Or do you need something more? What do you honestly think?


For more posts on the call to boldness and confidence, please visit Bonnie Gray’s Faith Barista.

Photo by Faith

If the money is a little short this month, an app could repair that too. Cash in the wallet!

Download that!  Care to comment?

• Do something that terrifies you
•  Put yourself in a situation where you are over your head
•  Try something you’ve never done before

Image by usag.yongsan via Flickr

Three years ago I worked hard to turn my life around physically, spiritually and in my relationships. I lost 30 pounds of fat and gained 20 pounds of muscle. But over the last few months that physique has … slipped. It wasn’t long ago that I studied and taught with fiery passion. Today, I just barely limp by in my faith. I used to be surrounded by friends who would encourage me and I could learn from. But by my brokenness, I lost my way.


Do I want change? You bet. But the reality is that none of this is going to be easy.


How about you? What’s the toughest thing you are planning on doing this year? Comment here.

Cradled in my mothers arms, she whispered it to me. And I sensed it as I was consoled by my father, telling me that the bully’s words didn’t matter. I heard it when Nana reminded me I was important to her.

And it might have pricked a tiny hole in heart as I watched Jill ride by on her bicycle and I wondered what it would be like to talk to her.

Four fab singers told me it was all I needed. I found Solomon’s song and read wide-eyed the tawdry, yet sacred account. The minister spoke of phileo, eros and agape. 

But I had no idea. 


Photo by Lisa

I read the words scrawled in trees and watched it play out from the stage and big screen. It was a simple note on the old piano and a raging symphony all at once. 

In school I read about it, the stuff of poetry and sonnets. Lovers in dangerous times, heroes acted heroically. Heroines swooned. 

But I had no idea. 

Eventually, I would fight for love, kicking at the darkness until it bled daylight*. Leapfrogging suitors, splashing cologne on my tender skin and wooing the maiden. And when I found it, I swore I’d never lose it. 

I smelled the fragrant skin. I touched the hair and watched the smile. A kiss. And then another.  

I waited at the end of the aisle, heard the promise. Holding hands in solemn unity untill death’s parting.  

But I had no idea.  

It’s a sacred thing, not to be tossed around carelessly. Still people use it to shower affection on their cats. And their cars. And their flannel sheets. And worse, fleshly pursuits with no heart twists the word beyond recognition. 

Webster-defined it’s so constrained. Four letters. One syllable. Yet, eternity thunders. 

I had no idea, until I found the Author of the word, and I’m learning …

She’s a great writer and has sharp instincts into the world around her.

I really liked her most recent post, “Make Yourself That Somebody.”

She caught herself complaining about a safety issue on a public sidewalk. When she said out loud, “Somebody should really fix it..”, she began to question just who “somebody” is!

And she concludes that we are that “somebody.”

I find myself using the same expression.

Somebody ought to clean the spill in the breakroom
Somebody ought to sign up to serve nursery duty
Somebody ought to clean up the widow’s yard down the street
Somebody ought to share a good word with that woman who has so many problems
Somebody ought to step up

Read her blog here, and I’m wondering, what kinds of things have you been waiting for somebody to do, and all along, it should be you?

Comment here.

I could eat the other parts of the stew, but leaving the okra until the bottom of the bowl only meant that I would have to take several spoons of the mushy vegetable all at once. The dog wasn’t to be fooled and neither was mom. It had to go down the hatch. So I ate the stew in whole – meat, potatoes, carrots, broth and okra. And it actually tasted pretty decent.


Photo D Rupert

This year is ending on a high note with great expectations. My hopes and dreams are coming true. But I’ll admit, there has been some okra thrown in throughout the year. I’ve sinned. I’ve said things I wish I could take back. I’ve had circumstances and death come my way. I could try to pull out the bad, to make them disappear. I could try to wrap them in a napkin and throw them in the trash. But the best thing I can do is eat the whole stew. And you know what? Despite the world’s attempt to make it bad, this stew is actually pretty good.

Then the dust settles.

And the empty pot awaits, ready for a fresh batch.

Are you ready for a new year? What will be in your pot? Do you like okra? Other comments?

Running in place, by Jennifer Dukes Lee of Getting Down With Jesus

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at my blessings and then asked, “how in the world did I get here?”

I have a full-time job as a writer and communicator. The dirty little secret is that I’m really a college drop-out who banged away at the typewriter for free for decades. And now I’m paid to be creative — with benefits.

I have a great position with The High Calling – one that I didn’t even know existed before I was offered it.

I drive a really great 2004 Infinity, owned by a widow with 20,000 miles on it and paid less for it than a comparable Hyundai. 

I had relationships and friends that have changed my life, people that I never sought out. I just found them. Or they found me.

Looking around, I’m so blessed, and I didn’t do anything to deserve any of it.

But I wonder if faith can be approached that same way. Can I just be a good man, trying to the right things and suddenly find myself smack dab in the middle of his will. Dare I say it, can I get lucky with God?

Or do I have to be intentional — seeking Him out?

This week’s lunar eclipse, as well as reading the accounts about the wise men who traveled to see Jesus following only a star has my eyes gazing upon the heavens. “Are you for real God? What am I supposed to be doing? Do I matter?”

I imagine those wise men asked the same questions — as we all do — but they chose to find the answer, rather than wait for it to just show up. They asked and what they got was an answer wrapped inside a puzzle — just follow the star.  It was almost as if God was saying, “You take the trip, I’ll light the sky.”

Paul describes humans as “seekers of God, feeling their way toward him”. The Psalmist says that God actually “conceals things. But the glory of kings is to search things out.”

I might know about Jesus, just by stumbling in. But to actually know Jesus, I must seek him out.

A.W. Tozer said that “God is never found accidentally.”


That’s why the bolt of lightening doesn’t come often.
That’s why I don’t see signs and wonders on a daily basis.
That’s why I don’t have insight into the great mysteries.

Because I’m not looking.

“And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart” (Jer. 29:13).

Care to comment?

Honored to join in Faith Barista’s “Unwrapping Jesus“