Reading Time: 2 minutes

“Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future” — The Steve Miller Band

I’m writing this on my birthday, and I’m another year closer to the end than the beginning. That’s not meant to be morbid, or depressing, but it definitely hits different from when it was mere theory two or three decades ago.

Now, it’s just a fact, but if I heed the wisdom of the ancient prophet, it can also be a reminder that what is limited often becomes a valuable commodity, and what is valuable needs to be protected fiercely and stewarded wisely.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalms‬ ‭90‬:‭12, emphasis mine)

In her book, anonymous, Alicia Britt Chole writes about the iceberg equation that reflects the physical nature of icebergs:

“10% visible + 90% unseen = an indestructible life” (p. 6)

Her math, along with her connection of it to the private and public life of Jesus, who spent over 90% of His life in hidden preparation, prompted me to search Google. My search for the average lifespan in America prompted me to open my calculator app, and here are the results.

The average American male lives to be 73.5 years old, which means 66.15 years of that life would be the hidden part of the iceberg.

My first thought after reading that wasn’t, “I better get busy!” Rather, it was, “I’ve still got some more time to get ready!”

Granted, time does seem more precious and fleeting in my fifth decade than it did in my second, but when we understand that God uses the secret, unseen, and mostly ordinary parts of our lives as training ground, it motivates us to value the insignificant.

It’s not like we sit around and do nothing for 90% of our lives, or that God sets us on the shelf, only to pull us out when He needs us. No, God is always at work, in every season and area of our lives, as a potter who is turning the lump into a masterpiece.

That means that how I choose to be present on a “normal” day goes a long way toward developing the character I’ll need for the 7.35 years of my life that God might choose to make things more public.

The iceberg equation doesn’t lessen the importance of the unseen; it heightens it. In fact, any other proportion of seen to unseen wouldn’t keep the iceberg afloat. Might I suggest the same for you and me? Too many people have melted in the spotlight of public ministry because they were trying to stay afloat without the necessary foundation. It is actually the grace of God to keep us hidden until He knows that we’re ready.

Is it easy to wait? Not even remotely, especially as more sand slips through the hourglass. But knowing our time is limited increases the value of the time we have left, as well as the value of what is being developed in each one of us.

The Artist is at work, and He will never rush the time it takes to prepare the masterpiece for the reveal.

Reading Time: 3 minutes

I’m starting this blog post standing in the terminal of the Orlando-Sanford International Airport as I wait to board the flight that will take me back home.

Back to the city I love.

To the church I love.

To the people I love

As it’s a late flight, I’ll probably end this post sometime later in that place, more than likely holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee sitting at my own desk in my own house.

Bella will be curled up in her dog bed on the floor next to me and I … will … breathe and reflect on what God deposited in me over the last two and a half days at my first Exponential Conference.

But the number one thing I’m taking away from my time with 5,500 passionate church leaders and followers of Jesus is that there is more. Every time I come to a gathering like this, I sense it: that unrelenting burden for everything that God has for me, the church I lead, and the city I love.

And yet, at the same time that I that I’m trying to swallow that lump in my throat that brings tears to my eyes, I can’t help but feel completely content in what God has already given me.

It’s a wild place to be and I think it’s the place we were made for. Life and love seem to happen in the middle of where we are and where we aren’t. Of what we did and what we’ll do. Of who we are and who we’re becoming.

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It’s hard to be in the middle. I felt that difficulty standing in the middle of the crowd singing at the top of our lungs to the closing song and knowing that God was pleased with me where I was and yet pulling me to where I wasn’t. Not necessarily geographically (we’re not going anywhere) as much as relationally. Wanting to lead a movement that reflects its city means never being done until that happens. It means that a lot of my time as a leader of an amazing family of Jesus followers is spent in the middle of wanting more and needing less.

I am 100% satisfied in Jesus and 100% stirred by Jesus. I feel content and discontent. Somewhat relaxed but never quite comfortable.

As if I needed any reminders about how difficult the middle can be, God allowed me to sit in the middle seat on the return flight (thankfully between 2 great people, but still). Then He used a broken fuel pump that caused us to sit in the plane almost twice as long as expected to teach me that He’ll keep me in the middle as long as it takes to finish the work.

And then, when we finally took off (in the same plane that 30 minutes earlier had a broken fuel pump – now that’ll grow your faith!), God met me in the middle and taught me something that I bet you need to know, too.

Right there on Allegiant Flight 2138 in Row 24 and smack dab in the middle of seat A and seat C, He told me, “You may be in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t on the move.”

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Sure the middle is uncomfortable and hard and frustrating and cramped. It’s all of that and more. But it isn’t stuck.

God moves us while we’re in the middle, and that’s something we never have to wrestle with.

Reading Time: 3 minutes

This could be a post that is a bit too real, but the purpose of my writing (at least at this point) is more therapeutic for me than useful for you. It doesn’t mean that I don’t value you and your readership; only that sometimes I write because I need to process more than I need to present. Hopefully, you’ll give me the grace to do that.

I thought about starting this with a simple question like “ever had one of THOSE weeks?” but the reality is that we all have. All of us have had days, weeks, and maybe even longer stretches like months and years during which we felt like it was one thing after another. Usually, these seasons are brought on by things outside of our control, but the seasons tend to stay because we then allow those things to control us. So how can we experience ups and downs without allowing those same ups and downs to affect us to the point that all we want to do is pull the covers over our eyes and “rest” a little longer in the bed?

Here are a few things that help me when the waves feel like they just keep coming. Maybe they’ll help you, too. They are unapologetically rooted in my deep love for and faith in Jesus. If you don’t share that, it’s okay.

Remember that being overwhelmed isn’t abnormal.

I want to be careful that we don’t minimize the very real emotions that come with being overwhelmed, but I also want to very clearly and gently remind us that being overwhelmed is a when not an if. One of my favorite verses in the Bible says “when my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.” (Psalm 61:2 – emphasis mine) Notice the word “when.” What you and I are feeling during those “wave crashing” seasons isn’t unique to us. Others experience them, too, because none of us were wired to be able to handle everything that comes our way. That might seem a little more overwhelming, but it’s actually comforting to know that the One who knows me best didn’t create me to handle it alone.

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Remember that you aren’t alone.

Maybe you noticed this when you read our verse, but if not, pay attention to what King David prayed when he was overwhelmed: “when my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I” (emphasis mine). Can I take a minute to point out the obvious? God couldn’t lead David from a place where God wasn’t already present, and it’s true for you and me, too. God is already in the places and seasons that overwhelm us. While others may run from us in those times, the Father does not. Granted, we may feel like He did, but feelings are sometimes terrible at telling us the truth.

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Remember who you are

The title of this post is interesting, yes? The answer to “how to be an overcomer” is in realizing that, in Christ, you and I already are. It’s impossible to not be who we already are. That would be like an apple tree trying to be an orange tree. We ARE overcomers. We FEEL overwhelmed. Recognizing the difference is a big part of handling the overwhelming seasons because it helps us remove what we feel from who we are. If you take the time to read Romans 8, you’ll find a section where Paul lists a TON of things that are overwhelming: false charges, condemnation, troubles, hardships, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, death. His response? “In all these things, we are more than conquerors…” (Romans 8:37, emphasis mine). Never let the activity around you shake the identity within you. In all these things, WE ARE.

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Remember that small things are a big deal

A lot of people call this a lot of things: eating an elephant one bite at a time (which sounds disgusting), taking the long view, etc. I happen to like the way Dory put it when Marlin was overwhelmed during a dark time as they searched for Nemo: just keep swimming. Instead of being overwhelmed with how far or how long the journey may take you, make the decision that the distance and length won’t stop you. Sometimes being an overcomer simply means refusing to be overcome.

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Today, you and I have the wonderful, powerful ability to make that choice. God gave it to us, and I’m using it to put my hand in His so that He can lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.

Let’s go together.