“… after all, it’s better to burn out than fade away.” – Kurt Cobain (suicide letter written 20 years ago, today).
Once upon a time, I used to charge the gates of hell with a squirt gun. I would give a call to arms and a declaration of war. There was no demon in hell that could stop the avalanche of the invading Kingdom! I used to be the guy who would spit all over the first three rows while preaching about the implications of the resurrection. The tomb is empty! Let’s take this city for Jesus. “Imagine addictions being broken, marriages being restored, crack houses becoming house churches, and the Kingdom of God invading every inch of our city!”
I used to knock on the door of the front office, anxious to enlist. I was the Rudy of Grand Rapids Theological Seminary! “Put me in coach, I want to charge the enemy!” I had so much confidence that God was going to use me to touch lives with biblical teaching, and I would be the kind of friend that would never let people down. I was available. Accessible. Here is my phone number. Here is my house. Here are my keys. Here is my heart. Here is my family. Here are the answers.
But that energy has turned against me. The internal fortitude to wreck the world has revolted to my own ruin. The eros fire has not been well-stewarded, and the greatest of intentions have drowned in the endless current of resistance. You can’t swim against the current forever, eventually you surrender to the counter attack.
So here I drift. I am burned out. Exhausted. It is time to recharge the batteries and get some rest. I just want to love Jamie and our girls. I don’t give a crap if I ever see another microphone again. All that matters is my family, and the rest is history.