That’s what I feel like saying today. COVID-19 sure is making a mess of things. If I’m honest I can more quickly come up with a list of things to complain about than things to be grateful for. And if I’m really honest, I just wanna wallow in that for a bit. And if I’m really, really honest, I don’t care if that makes anyone think less of me. And yet on an even deeper level if I’m really, really, really honest I know none of that is healthy.

Thankfully the Spirit of God within me brings to mind things like this:

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for mankind.

(Psalm 107:8)

Are the bread and butter of leadership.

Most of the time that really sucks. It might just be the worst part about being a senior leader who is responsible for making decisions that affect a bunch of people that are deeply loved. Why? Here’s what my experience thus far has taught me:

The higher the stakes are, the less clear the “right” decision is.

Or, even better, don’t.

That’s the message of Ash Wednesday: trying harder is pointless. Dying with your try hard pants on is still dying. And no one is going to really care what you’re wearing when you kick it—they’re gonna change your clothes anyways. You may think you’re winning in the short term, but in the end you can’t save your life. You can only lose it.

Today is Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. All around the world there are festivals and parties with one main goal: Overindulge in whatever you can. Traditionally this is because tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, which is marked most notably by fasting. Abstinence from everything indulged in the day before. And what do you do before embarking on a 40 day fast? Consume all you can! Get it while the getting is good!

Many, of course, are just in it for the party. They’re not planning on engaging in the subsequent fast, just the over-indulgence. Needless to say, they’re missing the point. The festival is yet one more party in a string of parties trying to appease their deepest desires. They’re seeking joy and pleasure and meaning in consumption.

Prioritizes relationship over arrival. Intimacy over efficiency. Trusting over rushing. Mystery over simplicity.

It often feels like going nowhere fast. Which rubs against the grain of our value of going somewhere fast.

It often feels like a wandering path, or even going in circles. Which confounds our efficiency of straight lines.

So sang Michael Stipe on “Leaving New York.” On an album that is sadly less than memorable, it’s a haunting line. Particularly if you tend to be left behind more often than you’d like.

In an increasingly transient culture, as more people move across the country for jobs or education or simply pure adventure (good things!), what is left behind is, well… more people left behind.

So don’t even try. What we need are more Christians—visible leaders or otherwise—who are content to whisper. Who have earned the honor of being listened to by sowing years and years of steady faithfulness and trustworthiness.

“Grant me joy and peace as I humbly trust You with the outcome of my life and ministry.”

I’ve been praying that over myself for what must be something like 6 years now. Maybe more. That’s  well over 2,000 times at least. Like any prayer, there is a cumulative effect that is only experienced in repetition over a long period of time. Here are three things I notice that it’s forming in me.

Jesus never asked his disciples to do the strategic thing; he asked them to do the obedient.

You simply sit there with him. In the dark. In the unknowing. In the awkwardness. For however long it lasts.

The other option is running out into the light. Where you can see clearly. Where everything is familiar. Where life is just as you are used to it being.