"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." -- Matt. 11:28-30

Rip current. One minute you're happily swimming along, and the next you realize you're no longer in control and you can't seem to get to the shoreline, no matter what you do. You can put forth a lot of effort and fight, but no matter what you do, you won't be able to correct things. All you'll accomplish is making yourself completely drained. The best thing you can do, in this scenario, is to let go and float. The current will push you back in.

This is the way it is with grace. Sometimes we try to force it. We recognize a promise God has given us, and when we don't see instant fruit, we panic. We begin to swim toward shore as hard and fast as we can, but it only makes us tired. Our efforts are counterproductive. Why? All of our efforts are not going to bring about God's promise of grace any earlier than His appointed time. When we exert so much energy, even when we are so sure we're doing the right thing, the end result is always exhaustion. Being tired accomplishes nothing.

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace...

When I think of rhythm, I think of dancing. And lately, I've been hooked on watching "Dancing with the Stars." I find myself mesmerized each week by the moves, the costuming, the music, the sparkly sequins…

So I decided to look at this whole baffling concept of unforced rhythms of grace in the context of ballroom dancing…in the hopes I'd come to understand it better.

• Only one person can lead. If both try to lead, the result is a hot mess as you each try to lead the other in opposite directions.

• If the wrong person leads, the dance won't flow properly. And don't "steal" the lead; let your strong partner lead you.

• Finding and following the flow and rhythm of the music covers a multitude of wrong steps.

• Find someone who knows more than you do and follow them.

• Don't worry about getting it perfect. As time goes by, and you work at it, you'll get better.

What does this teach me about the unforced rhythms of grace? Obviously, only one person can lead, and that person is Jesus. When I lead…well, hot mess.

I have always been blessed to have people in my life that I can look up to spiritually; people I can learn from and grow with. I try to make sure I hang around these people and follow the Christ-like example I see in them.

Staying connected with God allows me to flow with His rhythm, so even if I'm not always following His lead, I don't get far before I realize He's changing the steps around.

And last, I find that, like with a rip current, if I just let go and allow God to gently lead, despite any mistakes I may make, I get better at this whole grace thing over time.

I suppose learning the unforced rhythms of grace is, in an overly-simplified way of looking at it, to let go and let God. Stop fighting the current. Stop stealing the lead. Just let go…and let Him guide.

I'm a sucker for lost or hurt animals. I can't watch those commercials on television that feature the Sarah McWhat'sHerFace song, "In the Arms of the Angels." I cry every time, once I see those sad, lost, lonely little faces.

So when I went to the shelter to adopt a pet recently, I had a hard time walking through the dog kennels. Every dog seemed so happy to see me, and twice as sad when I walked past. I wanted to bring them all home. I told the shelter volunteer I didn't want to know any of their back stories until I'd made my choice, knowing I'd start blubbering like an idiot and risk being put in a cage myself. But alas, they had no small dogs.

But on the way back to the dogs, a 4-month-old kitten, with hair the same color as mine, latched on to me. She wouldn't let me put her down. When I held her, she put one front paw on one side of my neck, and the other on the other side, and nestled her head there, like a little baby. She had me at, "Purrrr."

So although I went in to adopt a dog, which is still on my bucket list, I came home with a new kitty I have named Suki. It means "beloved" in Japanese. She's so much fun. And so much work. It's like having a toddler in the house. When she isn't snuggled up on my chest, she's off somewhere, being suspiciously quiet, obviously getting into something. I have to watch her every move.

But every night, when we curl up to go to sleep, and she climbs up and nestles at my neck the same way she did that first day, all is forgiven. When she's close like that, I can hear this soft little whirring sound…her own special brand of purring.

I like to read about shelter animals too, and I love when I read about one who's had a particularly hard life who's now found a new forever home. I read about one this morning named Pepper. A lab and boxer mix, Pepper was found in Colorado shivering and stumbling around a trailer park. He is mostly blind, and has suffered some brain damage, so he wobbles a bit when he walks. No one knows if he was born damaged, or if he suffered damage and was abandoned by some stupid human who didn't want to deal with his special needs, but a good samaritan found him and took him to the local animal shelter.

Because Pepper can't see, all the noise and chaos in the shelter scared the bejeebus out of him, and he became terrified. But even in that state, he still licked every single hand that reached out to him. Since he wasn't doing well in the shelter, a foster home was found for him, where two other dogs were being fostered.

After thoroughly checking him out and letting him know they were in charge, the other two dogs just sort of accepted Pepper. He quickly got used to his new environment and loves running around his new yard, and jumping in piles of leaves. His lack of sight hasn't slowed him down at all, now that he's able to explore on his own terms and get used to things.

But one day, Pepper's new foster mom took him and the other two dogs for a walk. Pepper got a little anxious…maybe because of all the sights and sounds he couldn't recognize or explore in his usual way. Whatever the reason, he began to whimper.

The other two dogs took notice, and came alongside Pepper, and not only guided him, but offered some doggy encouragement as they walked their given path.

What a beautiful picture both of these stories present for us Christians. We were adopted by our heavenly Father, just when we needed it most. And when we snuggle up close to Him, just like He's eager for us to, we can hear His still, small voice, speaking encouragement and love to us.

And just like Pepper, sometimes life presents circumstances that we can't understand. Sometimes we just can't see what's going on, but we can feel that things aren't right. We begin to whimper, too.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a couple of caring friends come alongside us and offer guidance and protection, as well as loving encouragement? That's how it's supposed to work in the church.

God intended for the church to be a place of learning, growth, and service. But He also intended it to be a refuge. It should and must be the one place we can all go, when we can't even find the words to express our pain…when all we can do is whimper.

Lord, my prayer today is kind of a twisted version of the prayer of Jabez, found in 1 Chronicles 4:10...

Oh, Lord, please make me a blessing to those in need; enlarge my whimper radar, and guide me that I might hear and see those in need. I pray your hand will be with me, that you would keep me from having a "deaf" heart, that I won't be grieved at my own epic fail.

Yesterday in church, we talked about grace. My pastor talked about how grace is the one area in which today's church, globally speaking, fails the most. He said what I've been saying for years…the Christian army is the only army that shoots its wounded.

Sad. So sad. But unfortunately, so true. We've all been there. We've seen it done. We may have even been a part of it. We may have been "shot" at a few times ourselves.

I think that Satan no longer is worried about the world. It's taking care of itself. He's now completely focused on destroying the church. And he's doing a bang-up job. We're shooting each other left and right, all while he just sits there, grinning.

My pastor also mentioned land mines, and how they're used in warfare. They aren't designed to kill; they're designed to wound and disable. He said that a smart enemy knows that if he has land mines set, and his enemy falls on them, that enemy will be injured. And the enemy is counting on the compadres of that wounded soldier to be compassionate, and care for him. It takes a lot of personnel to care for a wounded soldier, and it slows down the entire army. That's what the enemy wants. It makes his job easier.

That started me to thinking…and wondering how land mines work. So I did a little research. Land mines are one of the most deadly legacies of 20th-century warfare. They are designed to explode when triggered by pressure or a tripwire. They are usually found on or just below the surface of the ground. Any person or vehicle that comes in contact with that land mine will be disabled when the mine releases an explosion of fragments at high speeds.

Mines are often laid in groups, called mine fields, and are designed to prevent the enemy from passing through a certain area, or to force an enemy to cross into a particular area. They're also used to force an enemy to slow down, until reinforcements arrive.

There are about 100 million land mines located in 70 countries in the world, and since 1975, land mines have killed or maimed more than 1 million people. Land mines can remain active for more than 50 years after they are planted in the ground. This has led to a worldwide effort to ban their use, and a movement to clear away existing land mines, wherever they may be. This can be a tough task, however, because a lot of them are in unmarked fields.

To find these mines, soldiers probe the ground – they literally poke the ground with a stick, knowing that each poke could cost them their lives. Trained dogs are also used. These dogs can sniff out the vapors that come from the explosive ingredients in the mines. Metal detectors are also used, but also require personnel to be put at risk.

Once a mine is found, two chemical agents are shot into the ground to deactivate it. The first solidifies the triggering mechanism and the soil around the mine, which allows soldiers to get in closer. Then the second agent solidifies the mine and the soil permanently, so that the mine can be dug up and destroyed. This whole process is dangerous to the personnel involved.

But even though there is an effort to clear away mines, new mines are being laid at a rate 25 times faster than they are being cleared.

Now…if you apply all of this to some spiritual thinking, with specific leanings toward grace…

Land mines are like cruel words or actions spoken by a fellow Christian. They lie on or just below the surface. These words or actions aren't designed to kill; just wound enough to slow you down or hurt you. They're most often unintentional, but can be filled with specific purpose. Very often, this type of mine does bring in reinforcements, although the parties may not always work together.

This type of mine has a very subtle tripwire, and it affects both sides; and one sets off a reaction in the other. Perhaps the mine-setter has been hurt before and reacts out of pain and bitterness. Perhaps he sees something that rubs that still-raw wound and instead of reaching out in kindness, he seeks to harm. Perhaps he just wants someone to share his misery. Whatever the reason, once that tripwire is tapped, it sets forth rapid-fire pain and suffering that inflicts new wounds on top of old.

The truth about this type of mine is that once it's been detonated, it doesn't just cause harm to the one who receives a direct hit…it can cause harm to anyone nearby, including the one who set the mine in the first place. The disturbing part is that in this case, it's not often there are compassionate soldiers to come alongside the wounded, despite witnessing the pain. You see, this type of wound is infectious. You can't touch it and not be touched.

The saddest part is that these mines, once set, remain forever. They cause harm to anyone who comes near, whether by accident or even if a person is seeking to disable the mine. And these mines are being set at a mind-blowing pace; more are put in place every day. More and more soldiers fall, helpless, hurting and in need of compassion. How many have to fall before we stop the madness?

Thankfully, there is a foot soldier, who came into the world not to condemn it, but to poke for the very mines we set. He willingly risked His life to walk through the mine fields, seeking to destroy the very things that will destroy us. But we are now called to be His foot soldiers. We must pick up a stick, and head for the unmarked fields. We must extend grace to one another, no matter the cost. We must learn to fall on a mine for those around us – to take on their pain and suffering, rather than push them away.

Greater love has no man than this...