giving up

Exit 190. I’ll find you when I think I’m out of time.

One interesting thing about having a huge collection of music is that every once in a while, I’ll have all of my thousands of songs on shuffle, and I’ll rediscover a song from my past in a way that speaks to me all over again in the present.

Jars of Clay is a Christian rock band that was popular during my college and young adult years, when I was first discovering Christian rock (and first discovering what it meant to be a Christian, for that matter).  Their song Flood, off of their self-titled debut album, was a major hit in 1996, crossing over from the Christian niche into mainstream music and charting on the Billboard Hot 100.   I’ve seen them live at least three times, most recently in 2006 with Vega the Nice Ex.  (Some of the popular Christian bands of that era I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen live, since I went to some festivals and other large events where many bands were playing.  I know I’ve seen them at least once at a festival, and twice as the actual headliners of actual concerts.)

Jars of Clay never really replicated that early mainstream success.  They experimented with different sounds over the years, and although I have all of their first seven studio albums, their self-titled debut will probably always be my favorite.  But there are some good songs off of their other albums (as well as some recent work which I haven’t heard at all; maybe I’ll have to check them out one of these days).  The song “The Eleventh Hour,” from the 2002 album of the same title, came up on shuffle recently, and I hadn’t heard it in a while, and it had probably been even longer since I had actually paid attention to the lyrics.

 

The English phrase “the eleventh hour,” which like the phrase “jars of clay” is derived from a passage in the New Testament,  refers to the last minute, a time in which it is almost too late.  (Some modern translations use modern methods of timekeeping in that passage instead of the words “eleventh hour”; the NIV, for example, says “five in the afternoon.”)

The song says:

Rescue me from waiting on this line.
I won’t give up on giving you the chance to blow my mind.
Let the eleventh hour quickly pass me by.
I’ll find you when I think I’m out of time.

Sometimes I feel like I’m out of time.  Sometimes I feel like my best years are past me, having been wasted drowning in fear and self-doubt.  Sometimes I feel like I could have been happy and had a more fulfilling life if I had done things differently in my younger years.  Sometimes it feels too late to be successful financially, or too late to meet that special someone and find a family, or too late to find a place where I belong.  God, rescue me.  I won’t give up on you.  I can still find God, and he can still do wonderful things with my life, even if I think I’m out of time.

As I’ve been writing this, two other Jars of Clay songs came up on shuffle.  Maybe God is telling me he approves of my topic for this week, or that one of my readers needed to hear this.

Don’t give up on God.

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Exit 175. It’s not too late for a comeback.

I have a lot of my mind right now.  None of it is ready to be a full post on here.  And now I’ve forgotten what I was actually going to write about.

Oh yeah… Two big things happened in my world this week: the end of the Major League Baseball World Series, and Halloween.  My team wasn’t in it, but if you know me, and you know how baseball works, you can figure out who I was going for.  The series went the maximum possible number of games, seven (for my unbaseballed readers, the champion is the first team to win four games, therefore the maximum length is seven games).  After around game 3, I predicted it would probably go seven games, because these two teams were so good, and so many of their games had been close, going back and forth.

I tried to keep my mouth shut.  I have very strong feelings against one of the teams that was involved this year, but I know people who like that team, and even though sometimes I want to feel differently, my rational thinking side still believes that supporting different teams is not in and of itself a good reason to lose friends.  At times during this series, I really tried hard to stay calm and keep quiet and not say anything.  I had the game on while I was handing out candy to trick-or-treaters.  The game was visible from the front door, and a few people asked me how the game was going.  I had some choice words for the dad waiting at the sidewalk wearing the jersey of the team I wanted to lose, but I was good and kept them to myself.

One important reminder to take away from this Series is that there is always hope, no matter how gloomy and pointless things can seem.  Many of these games featured one team taking an early lead, only to have the other team come roaring back later.  I often feel like life has me beaten down… but as long as I’m still breathing, it’s not too late for a comeback.  Play ball.

Exit 163. It all goes wrong again.

I feel beat up.

Defeated.

Hopeless sometimes.

Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is insanity, as the saying goes.  Doing different things and getting the same results is real life.  At least that’s what my life feels like sometimes.  And just when I’m starting to feel optimistic about something, it all goes wrong again.

I’ve been lied to and misled.  I’ve been betrayed and stabbed in the back.  I’ve been the recipient of many empty and hollow promises that never materialized.

Sometimes I feel like giving up.  That’s been on my mind a bit more than usual lately, with a number of friends also suffering from depression, and all the celebrity suicides in the news recently.

But I’m not going to give up.

I’m going to keep putting one foot in front of the other as long as I can.

God still has work for me to do.  Maybe things really will change someday.  Or maybe I have to help someone else out of their darkness.

See you next time.  I’ll still be here.