It's a Wonderful Life

It’s Christmas time, which means, It’s a Wonderful Life is making the rounds again. I like the movie because I think George Bailey’s experience is one that resonates with many of us. We spend our lives taking care of our kids, our spouses and the ones around us and, at some point begin to wonder, what difference have I made?

We may look back and not be very impressed with our body of work. I can easily see mistakes, failures, blunders and weaknesses that are painful to look at. Cutting words to people I love, wasted hours when action was needed, indifference to those in need.

If that’s true for you, remember this: as much as you want a “do over” yesterday is gone. It’s been sucked into the abyss and there’s nothing you can do about it. The good news is, your mistakes have gone with it.

There is nothing you can do about yesterday, but today is a different story. Today is day one. You can start over. Try again, make amends, get help, invest in others, hug your family, work hard, play, celebrate, hope, love.

But maybe you look back, like George Bailey and see the impact your life has had, the people who have been touched, the lives that have been changed. Maybe there is much to feel good about and be thankful for.

If that’s true for you, remember this: as warm and comfortable as reflection feels, yesterday is gone. It’s been sucked into the abyss and with it has gone your glory. The good news is today is a new adventure.

You cannot rest on past successes. Relationships demand ongoing engagement, investment and growth. Without it, a life grows stale, shallow and meaningless. Yesterday is gone, what have you done for me lately?

The pain or praise of yesterday may have shaped today’s reality. We can’t change that. But today… today is something I can do something about. That’s why, his mercies are new every morning. 

Though He slay me, I will hope in Him

Nancy and I recently attended a private screening of The Christmas Candle. A friend had seen the movie and wanted to share it with others, so he rented a theater to make it happen. I love it when people are so moved by something they are unafraid to act in big ways.

I have to admit I was a little skeptical of the film. I struggle with a lot of “Christian” films and have found more meaning in many secular productions than most flicks produced by the church.

I can believe someone can survive a plane exploding and falling from the sky, in the middle of a gunfight, while disarming a nuclear bomb, with a kitten in his backpack.

But Christian films don’t feel real.

What I appreciated about The Christmas Candle was it didn't shy away from unexplained pain and unanswered prayer.

My problem with many “Christian” films, and many Christians, is we seem to think God needs help, so we candy coat our stories.

We can talk about bad stuff as long as it doesn't get too dark. We can talk about the heartache as long as we quickly move to the healing. We can deal with loss as long as we look for the victory.

But sometimes life just sucks. We don’t get to see the reconciliation, the healing or the “purpose.” When we try to fabricate one in the middle of the suckyness we look either delusional or deceitful.

We need to admit, sometimes life sucks. The end.

That’s not a very cheery message, but it’s true. What’s also true is, even in the pain, there is a god who loves you enough to bind his limitless nature inside the frailty of an infant, in a relentless pursuit of you.

Why? So, one day, he can take you to a place where you’ll never weep again. And that's beautiful. 

Sometimes life sucks and it is never hopeless. Job's sentiment nails the dichotomy and we should learn from his example. 

Christmas is Coming... But so is Family

Ah, the Christmas season. The time of year we gather together the people we love most dearly for a mutual display of dysfunction. 

I got a note from a friend this week that reminded me, I'm most critical of the people closest to me. She wasn't trying to be mean, just offhandedly mentioning a conversation from years ago. It was a timely reminder.

There is something about family that makes us revert to old patterns and behaviors. For some reason we can ascend to attain the emotional maturity of a venerable saint, only to become a petulant toddler in the presence of a parent.

Why is it, when my boys return home, I treat them like boys instead of the men they have become? They are men who are bright and capable, able to make decisions I may or may not agree with, but decisions which are theirs and they can fully own.

I think the problem is muscle memory.

An athlete will repeat the same motion over and over so repetitively you don't need to think about it anymore. It just happens. It's buried so deeply in the brain it's instinctive.

It's a great asset for an athlete striving for consistency. It's a sucky way to engage in dynamic relationships.

We aren't static beings. We change. So it's no longer appropriate to talk to my boys like they're 10, even if it feels like it was just yesterday.

And I should also realize, when I'm tweaked by my elders, they have their own "muscle memory." It's behavior that's been brought on by years of experiences, sometimes pretty painful ones, which have worn deep grooves in their brains.

It doesn't excuse the behavior, or mean we shouldn't address it at some point. I'm just saying Christmas day might not be the best time.

As quarterbacks rework their throwing motion and golfers rework their swing, this Christmas, I need to rework my relational muscle memory.

Searching for Significance

A friend passed along this video last week. At 43 minutes, it’s one you’ll need to carve out some time for and it is well worth the time.

It focuses on our desire to please God. As healthy as that sounds, as you watch, Lynch leads us to the undeniable conclusion that it can’t be our primary motivation. Instead we need to trust.

There are a lot of reasons we want to please God. Because of our love for him, what he’s done for us, his commands, to earn favor. And I think deep inside many of us there is a quest for significance.

We want to be part of something bigger than ourselves. We want to motivate people, have influence, change lives, have an impact. It may not be on a huge scale, but we’d like it with our group of friends or our family, our kids.

We want our lives to make a difference.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to live lives that make a difference, as long as we understand it has nothing to do with our significance.

God created you with significance. You are infused with meaning. You have intrinsic value. Your life matters, simply because. If you sat on your front porch and watched the world go by for the rest of your life, you would be no less significant.

If you want to give to the poor, feed the hungry, free the slave good for you! As long as you realize your value isn't found there. Before your took your first breath your life already had meaning. 

A Critical Heart

I have a tendency to be critical. It’s not an aspect of my character I’m proud of. I can be critical of the government, my leadership, my church, a store, people in general and shamefully family and friends. I can pretty much pick apart anyone.

Something isn't done the way I like, said the way I like, a decision I didn't like, a program I don’t like, a song I don’t like, a cashier I didn't like, driving I don’t like, a plan I don’t like, a pace I don’t like.

Nancy ends up being the one who feels the weight of my negativity, when we get back to the car, I sigh and say, “You know…”

The problem isn't the grumbling. Every now and then there’s going to be something that tweaks us and we need to let out steam. The problem is my focus.

If we have a wonderful time at church and there’s one song I don’t care for, why do I focus on that song? If my boss has a few minor quirks, why do I fixate on them on not the positives? If shopping is a zoo on Black Friday, why do I complain about the slow cashier instead of all the loot I've just purchased?

What we choose to focus on shapes our attitudes which impact our relationships. Finding the positive, in folks who drive us crazy, reframes how we see them. They are no longer problems, but people. 

They are people who may not agree with us or act the way we would want them to, but people who have value and should be respected.

Sadly, with the chaos of the Christmas season, it can be a really difficult time of the year not to be critical. The stark irony of that makes me want to change. 

Children's Choir

Watching the children’s choir at church is always a fun place to peg personality types. It is the place where introverts and extroverts are exposed in stark contrast.

The introverts are standing there, lips barely moving, voice nearly inaudible, hand motions nearly imperceptible, withering under the weight of hundreds of eyes boring into their souls.

The extroverts are nearly yelling, flailing wildly, bouncing uncontrollably, absorbing the attention like a dehydrated sponge plunged into water.

One of the greatest gifts we can give our kids is to help them understand how God made them and then help them to embrace it.

As a 19 year old dad, I had no clue who I was much less have the ability to help my boys understand their wiring. Somehow, I still ended up with two great young men. I just wish I had realized earlier how God designs us to be different people and allowed them to grow in that.

Understanding how God has gifted us empowers us to engage without fear. It also protects us from arrogance, acknowledging we did nothing to earn how we've been created. And though there may be areas where I excel, there are others where I am painfully dependent.

The beauty of the body of Christ is all parts are valuable. More than that, they are needed. So self awareness is not only the best gift we can give our children, it’s the best gift we can give the church.

Trust

I saw this video on CBS Sunday Morning last week. It grabbed my attention because it talked about wounded veterans and the power of music in recovery.

It’s a pretty powerful piece with soldiers sharing how music has helped them cope with the loss of limbs, sight and traumatic brain injury. But it’s the last minute and a half that stunned me, forced me to find the story online and watch it over and over.

(Spoiler alert – watch the video then come back and read)

Everything in the last 1:30 moves me.

Cpl. Donely’s decision to trust, when he seems to have every reason not to, inspires and troubles me. My emotions are conflicted because my mind has no box to put such a profound level of faith.

If he is trusting God with his future, he must also believe that he serves a God powerful enough to have stopped what happened. God could have prevented it or at least limited the damage he suffered, right? Could he not at least saved Donely’s right arm?

Choosing to say, “All of the hopes and dreams I had are now in a shambles, my body is broken and I choose to trust you” levels me.

I think one of the most difficult, persistent questions of God is, “Do you trust me?” I really believe, though many would disagree, that the reason Jesus wept in John 11 was because no one trusted him.

Folks he had touched, healed and forgiven over the past three years accused him of being too late to help them. And it moved him to tears.

But not Cpl. Donley. Though you did not rescue me, I will trust you. That’s hard for me to accept, but somewhere, deep inside, it feels true. 

Confrontation & Broccoli

I don’t like conflict. In the fight or flight part of my brain, the trigger to flee is dominant… very dominant.

This has lead to years of avoiding conflict, like a kid avoids broccoli. I've learned, though, that conflict isn't only necessary, like broccoli, it’s healthy.

I’m not talking about the kind of conflict some people crave, conflict that’s combative and meant to cause harm. Instead it’s having the courage to lovingly confront, to provoke growth and strengthen relationship.

When we don’t confront, nothing changes. People continue in their disappointing behavior and teams remain sick. Relationships are damaged, the rift broadens and dysfunction deepens.  

In our work in staff care, Nancy and I see the impact of this. Sadly, we get called in after it’s gone on too long. Like an infection that has grown too severe, the only option is to remove a limb from the body. In a situation like that everyone suffers. The staff member, the team, leadership, everyone.

If someone had had the courage to sit down over a cup of coffee and have a difficult conversation months or years ago, things probably wouldn't have gotten so bad.

Remember though, when you confront, it takes a level of self awareness. Many times when I've sat down to chat with someone about their attitude or actions, I've realized I’m the problem. It’s then I realize, confrontation really is like broccoli, I may not like it but it helps me grow.

Filtering Life

Life is full of fear, worry, rejection, failure, insecurity, abandonment, neglect, anxiety, struggle, pain and suffering. Pretty cheery stuff huh? I can bury my head in the sand, put on some Pollyanna glasses and spout some churchy platitudes if I want, life is still hard.

This is also true: The Lord your God is in the midst of you, a Mighty One, a Savior [Who saves]! He will rejoice over you with joy; He will rest [in silent satisfaction] and in His love He will be silent and make no mention [of past sins, or even recall them]; He will exult over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17 (AMP)

So the struggle is, how to live in the tension of my experience and what I’m told is true in scripture?

I think the idea is to look at our circumstances through the lens of scripture. So when you’re afraid, to move forward, try something new, have a hard conversation or even face another day acknowledge the fear and know God is present.

When you fail, feel insecure, abandoned, alone and neglected remember, he rejoices over you. When you blow it again, fall back into addiction, hurt people you love and even reject him, seek forgiveness and know he will never mention it.

When you’re in pain, hurt, harassed, abused and suffering, know that somewhere God sees you, knows your circumstance and sings over you like a mother easing her infant to rest.

God, the creator of the universe, is present with you. He rejoices in you. He does not mention, nor even recall your sins. More than that, you make him want to sing.  Of all of the wonders in creation, you are the one he celebrates.  

Believing this verse doesn't change the reality of my experience, instead it changes me.

Questions on Suffering

Although He was a Son, He learned obedience from the things which He suffered. Hebrews: 5:8

A cancer survivor shared that verse with me. It was something that brought her comfort in her dark moments as the blend of cancer and chemicals waged war on her body.

I didn't remember ever reading the verse. And I may have even thought she was hallucinating and read it wrong. So I came back to my office and looked it up.

What could Christ possibly need to learn? If we believe in the deity of Christ, shouldn't he know everything already? And of all the things he should know, wouldn't obedience be pretty high up on the list? He came for a specific purpose, right?

While my mind was stretching to comprehend how that could be true, a more troubling question crept in… “What does that mean for me?”

I’m a pretty pain averse guy. If Christ, in his sinless nature, had to suffer to learn obedience, how much more do I need it to learn? At first there’s this twinge of fear. It’s a “what’s going to happen to me?” kind of fear.

But then there’s a more painful question, “Do I love him?” Christ said if I love him I will obey him. If suffering teaches me how to obey… shouldn't I welcome it?

My life is virtually pain free. I live with a level of affluence, privilege, comfort and safety missing in most of the world. How can I possibly learn to obey Christ, learn to love him better, if it is learned through suffering?

I’m not sure I've settled on what those questions mean for me. I’m pretty sure, the answers are sobering.

Falling Leaves

There’s a big beautiful tree in our front yard. It provides great shade from the summer sun and every fall turns bright yellow. Every time I round the corner towards home it’s there to greet me and I marvel at its brilliance. 

But as fall lingers on, I’m acutely aware, with each falling leaf its beauty is fading.

It reminds me of Mom.

Alzheimer’s is like a tree in autumn. It starts slowly, almost imperceptibly. The greens begin to fade and shift to yellow, red and brown… then the leaves begin to fall.  

The person you love begins to fall away. Confidence drops off, then wisdom and grace. They are left with barren branches of anxiety and fear.

Sometimes the wind blows and memories cascade away suddenly, rapidly and uncontrollably. They are just gone, blown away, with no hope of returning them to their place.

Because of my life I've seen her rarely the past 12 years, returning every other year to find huge holes where beauty used to be. I can't imagine the pain for my dad and sister, helplessly watching the daily assault.

I think if you care for someone with Alzheimer's every now and then you need to rake their memories into a pile with friends. Jump into them. Spend a day rolling around in them. Remembering, laughing and weeping together. They have lost their leaves, but you can still enjoy them. 

Autumn has lasted too long, and I know she’s nearly into winter. But after winter comes spring, when she will be made new, complete and whole again. I long for that day for her. I pray for it.

And one day, I will turn the corner towards home and she will be there, vibrant and full of life. I will marvel at her brilliance and she will welcome me home. 

Silencing the Voices

A friend recently told me about a guy who drinks beer with his brother every Friday night. They wake up Saturday morning and ask, “What’s your blood alcohol level?” The other responds, “Feels a little low.” And they start again and on into Sunday.

My friend shook his head and asked, “Why would someone want to live like that?”

The short answer is, to stop the voices.

We spend all day filling our lives with noise. We connect to email, internet, phone, TV, Ipod and sometimes even each other. We live with input from morning until night. So when our heads hits the pillow it’s the first time for quiet.

That’s when the voices start. They pick at our failures, flaws and insecurities. They berate and belittle until we fight our way to sleep.

A lot of the world self medicates so they don’t have to listen to those voices.

But in the middle of all the doubt and self loathing there is one quiet whisper who says, “Who cares?”

“Who cares about your failures or insecurities? I created you, know you and pursue you every day. I lived for you, died for you and ransomed you with my life. You are precious to me. Priceless to me. You are mine. You are loved, failures, flaws and all. Rest.”

There is real relief from the voices. It's not found in a glass or a pill. It’s found in forgiveness. And it’s free.  

Chocolate Labs

A friend recently asked if we could watch his dog. It’s a big chocolate lab, grown but still young. If I throw a ball a hundred times he’ll get it a hundred times and look at me with the same expectant face on every return.

He’s trots around, oblivious to the world around him. His big body bumps into things and his tail wags ferociously, clearing figurines from shelves and knocking down small children.

He’s also totally unaware of Abby. Our dog has been perfectly happy being an only child and he’s ruining it. He’s bigger, faster and stronger and it freaks her out. She sits in the corner of the room, glares at him and growls when he gets too close.

She’s a bundle of nerves and he’s bouncing around grabbing her toys, licking people and knocking over furniture.

We all know people like this, don’t we? People who bounce through life, totally unaware of the wake of destruction they leave behind them. Maybe we've worked for him. The guy who pops his head in your office, utters a decree then trots down the hall happily, while your day lies in ruins.

Maybe it’s a friend who allows her chaos to enter your life. She shows up only when she needs something, only when she’s made a shambles of things again, only to drain you.

Maybe it’s a family member. Your parent who calls and always seems to have the right offhanded comment to make you feel small… again.

We all know these people. With just a few words, they leave us feeling shattered.

But what’s hard to see is, sometimes we are that person. Because we think the best of our motivations, we don’t realize how our comments and actions may be impacting others, our coworkers, our friends, our family.

The next time someone growls and snaps at you, instead of snapping back, take some time to question why. Maybe the “old dog” is threatened by your presence. Maybe what you considered to be “gentle teasing” wasn't received that way. Maybe your comments have opened old wounds.

It’s easy to see in others, but we need to realize, sometimes we’re the chocolate lab. 

Learning to Love

Abby is our dog. She’s a rescue, so we THINK she’s a lab/pit bull mix. She’s playful, full of energy, cuddly and a bit neurotic so she fits well into the family.

She’s two and like all labs still full of puppy. When I come home from work, she acts like I’m a soldier returning from war, wags her whole body, runs and jumps on me.  If a dog can love, she loves me and wants to show me.

Abby loves to jump. She gets excited, wants to be close to me and jumping is what comes naturally. It’s what feels right to her.

But I can’t have her doing it. She loves kids and kids love her, but she is so big and strong she would really hurt one with her “love.” She needs to learn not to jump.

People are the same way. Because of how we are wired, events in our past, insecurities, selfishness or an unmet need, we love poorly. Sometimes even in ways that hurt others.

We engage with people, our coworkers, friends, family, spouse in ways that feel right to us. But what feels right to us, many times, isn't loving.

Many times, when I hug Nancy, I do it not because I think she needs a hug, but because I need one. So while a hug is a loving gesture, it is really about me.

Nancy is more likely to feel loved if I fix the ceiling in the kitchen. It’s not that she doesn’t like hugs, it’s that she needs me to fix the ceiling and that stuff means something to her. It makes her feel cared for.

I had to learn that. It’s not something I could deduce by looking at her. I had to spend time with her, get to know her, invest in her, then choose to love her. Love her the way she receives it, not the way I do.

Love has to be learned before it can be practiced. Otherwise it’s not love at all. Here is lesson one.  

God Revealed in Fantasy Football

Twelve years ago, ten guys missing U.S. football, got together and formed the Quito Fantasy Football League. The QFFL has now expanded to twelve teams and none of us are in Ecuador anymore.

With everyone working in missions or the military we've spread out. We've had guys in Ecuador, Singapore, Austria, Afghanistan, Djibouti and even the U.S. I've been the league's whipping boy for most of that time, though I did win the championship in 2006 and went 14-2 last season (not that I’m keeping track).

Each August we gather together around our computers and pick our favorite players… or the ones we hate but can’t pass up.

This year, at the end of draft night, while others were researching which of the players ranked in the 190^’s would be the better selection, I took two seconds to make my last pick... the Kansas City Defense.

KC was ranked 22^nd on draft night and not expected to do much this year. Six games into the season they are averaging 16 points a game. SIX-TEEN! 

To put that in perspective for the uninitiated, it would be like applying for a part time job, expecting minimum wage and being offered full time work at $120K a year.

When I saw that today it hit me, fantasy football is like God. Each year, some no name from nowhere, that someone picked by accident, has a great year.

Paul tells us in Romans that God uses the foolish things to shame the wise. I work with and connect some brilliant folks in missions. What’s also true is we are some of the most broken, raggedy, and just plain weird people on the planet. And sometimes we're even sinful. Yet somehow God is glorified.

You see he picks people, like a little Albanian girl and sends them to places like India so they can change the world. He continues to baffle us with his ability to use the unimpressive. Why? So no one will mistake who is really responsible.

I've been wondering how fantasy football could draw me closer to Jesus. I've finally found him, displayed as a second rate defense, picked last and overachieving. 

I'm Not a Servant

Nancy has the gift of service. It oozes from her. It’s part of what makes her a good wife, mom, nurse and hostess of whatever function happens to be running. Acts of service is her love language. My love language sucks.

I don’t have the gift of service. Marcus and I saw a little old lady, struggling to get a big box in the back of her van in the rain. I looked at her and thought, “Bless her heart, that’s a big box. I hope she can get it in there.” Marcus put the box in the van.

It’s great to be married to someone who loves service because they… serve. The problem is, if you aren’t careful, you take it for granted.  The dishes get washed, the laundry gets done… it just happens. It’s awesome!

I was lying in bed one evening in Ecuador just before our annual beach vacation. I was trying to chill out and watch TV for a bit before going to sleep, but Nancy kept walking back and forth in front of the screen. I finally said, “Honey, why don’t sit down and watch TV with me?”

Her reply, “Because I’m trying to pack everything you think magically shows up at the beach every year.”

Oh…

The problem is it doesn’t matter if it’s our natural bent or not, we are all called to serve. Christ’s last act with his guys before he went to the cross was to wash their feet. It was not some offhanded gesture, but an intentional act of instruction.

No where is this more important than in a marriage. It’s a partnership that requires both parties to be fully invested. Both need to fully serve. Nancy is a great example… I still have a bit to learn.

Insecurity

I’m at a conference this week. I’m pretty spoiled because Nancy usually travels with me, but for the first time in a pretty long time, I’m on my own.

I showed up at the retreat center and they didn’t have my registration. I started thinking I had come to the wrong place. Was there another Pastors to Missionaries conference in North Carolina this week?

We got it sorted out and they gave me a map to the grounds, pointed out my building and highlighted the rout to my parking area. I looked at the map, started to drive. Stopped, looked at the map again, then drove a little further.

It’s not downtown Chicago or anything, there was only one road, but I kept questioning if I was in the right spot.

I found my building, got my suitcase and backpack and started across the parking lot, but the building had the wrong name. So I wandered back to the car and looked at the map again. I had to be in the right place.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching then wandered back to the building to peek inside. For some strange reason, the place has two names; one for where people sleep and one for the theater on the bottom floor.

I found my room and was all stressed out.

Coming into the week I knew I would be out of my element, surrounded by people I don’t know, many who have much more experience than me and who always say things like, “Have you read…”  Um, no I haven’t.  “Of course you know…”  Um, no I don’t.

I wondered where all of the insecurity was coming from. Then I realized, Nancy isn’t with me.

When she’s with me, I have more confidence. I can own a room, I can take more risks, act without fear, speak more boldly. Basically, when she’s with me, I’m not afraid to fail.

Why? Because there is someone there who loves me and believes in me. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of her countless times and she hasn’t run away.

A good friend is a gift. It doesn’t have to be a spouse. There are guys I could have made this trip with as well. But there is something about having someone who loves you unconditionally, that empowers you. No matter, what, you’re not alone.

We all need that person. More importantly, we need to be that person for someone else. Who feels empowered when you are in the room?

Change is Constant and a Constant in Change

We've had a lot of folks in transition in HCJB Global over the past several years.

In an effort to be more effective in ministry, we've had to change. Circumstances in Ecuador have shifted and it’s forced us to change.

With the largest grouping of our staff in that area, it’s made for some uncomfortable years.

The largest nongovernmental radio station in the world was downsized to a local broadcaster and the hospital we have owned and operated for years is being sold.

It would take too long to go into all of the reasons, here but I would be happy to fill you in, if you ask for them.

The transitions needed to happen. The decision to make them was a good decision. But even if the decisions are good and even if I agree with them, it can be hard.

We have missionaries who have invested the best part of their lives there. Thirty years of ministry filled with love, pain, joy and sacrifice.

At a time when some would be in their prime “earning potential” years, they are instead being asked to start over.

A couple of years ago HCJB Global celebrated 80 years of ministry. People came from all over the world for the celebration and much of this transition was discussed.

I remember seeing one of our old former missionary ladies from Europe. She was probably 150 years old and arrived in Ecuador, right after the conquistadors.

She was staring off in space and seemed to be reminiscing. I was worried that she might be upset about all of the radical changes. Much of what she had helped build, was now being dismantled.

I approached her and said something like, “Lots of changes, huh?”

She looked at me a bit bewildered and said, “Everything changes. Change is a part of life. You can’t stop change.”

Then her eyes glistened as she said, “But God’s Word is eternal! And his Word is being proclaimed around the world. It’s wonderful!”

I’ll never forget that conversation. In a world full of change it grounds me to a constant. The Word is alive and active in our every changing world. It’s beautiful.

Missing Basketball -- a Shrimp's Perspective

We spent seven years in Ecuador. Most of our prime family raising years were there, with other young families, working in ministry and raising kids together. It’s the type of “life sharing” thing that binds people together. I miss it.

There’s a lot to miss too, the people, the mountains, the jungle, the beaches and the ministry. It was a good time. But what’s funny is, when we moved to Singapore, one of the things I missed the most was basketball.

Three days a week, a group of guys would spend lunch hour playing ball, on a raggedy outdoor parking lot, with a very forgiving rim. Our ages probably spread across 25 years and our skill level was just as divergent.

At 5 feet nothing and no ability to jump, dribble, pass or shoot I had no business being out there, but, they were missionaries so they had to let me play.

When we moved, I mourned the loss. And I wondered, what was so special about guys running around, chasing a ball. Why did I miss it so much?

I think it’s because men need time with other men. So often we suck at picking up the phone and calling another guy to go do something. Basketball was a nonthreatening way to come together, compete, laugh and forget about life for awhile.

I don’t remember any deep conversations that happened on the court, but relationships were built that allowed me to have them off it.

For thousands of years men spent time together, teaching each other how to hunt and fish, telling the stories of their fathers and grandfathers. They taught each other how to survive.

It’s something miss today because we don’t have a context to make those conversations happen naturally. Maybe we should play more basketball. 

My Problems With Church

For years I didn't like church. Yeah, it’s not real cool for a missionary to not like church, but I didn't. There was something about it that didn't feel real to me. So week after week Nancy would make me go.

People sang, a pastor spoke, we sang some more then went home. But that was it. Nothing changed. People didn't seem to change. I certainly wasn't changing. It was routine, mundane, dry.

Returning to the “U.S. church” is hard for a lot of missionaries (though my struggle began long before that). After years of bumping into people living in poverty, a coffee shop in the foyer feels a bit shallow.

With no real relationship with the people inside, it’s pretty easy to look at the nice cars, fancy buildings, stage, band, frappuccinos, lattes and espressos and start to judge. You begin to see people as shallow, self absorbed, uninformed, apathetic and addicted to comfort.

But so am I.

The problem really isn't the church. The problem is me.  My attitudes, my judgmental nature, my sense of self importance and self-centeredness. Me.

If the church is the body of Christ then I need to be in love with it. I need to be active and engaged. I need to plug in and use whatever gift it is God has given me to build it up, make it stronger and grow it.

Is it perfect? No. But I can’t help change it from the outside. And I certainly won’t with some holier than thou, finger pointing tirade from my hypocritical, pharisaical heart. Only by loving people enough to carefully confront can change occur. Not out of condemnation, but from a deep desire to see people draw closer to Christ.

If you've left the church because you're a grouch like me, get over yourself. Come back. Let's get to work.

The church is full of people, so there will always be someone there who you aren't going to like, someone who will bother you and even hurt you. If you have left the church because you've been hurt, I am sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.

Please come back. Let’s try it again. Together. 

Rain

You've probably heard, we've had rain here in Colorado. Clouds came in from the south, pushed up against the mountains and dropped everything they had on the Front Range (eastern slopes of the Rockies).

It’s been pretty devastating for a lot of people with homes destroyed, roads washed out, people stranded and lives lost.

I walked out of my office last Friday and looked into the giant drainage ditch we have behind our building. It hadn't rained in five days and water was still rushing down it. Most of the time, there’s no water in it, or maybe just a trickle, but on Friday it was still rolling through at a pretty good pace.

The impact of the rains in the mountains was still being felt, down on the plains days later.

It hit me that this is true in our lives as well. We seem to think that when we experience stress, anxiety, hardship or even tragedy that we should be able to just move on.

Maybe someone has hurt us and we think that we can just shake it off and keep going with our lives, but the current of that event can stay with us for quite some time. It can impact what we think about people, how much we trust them and our view of the world.

And if we have no real way to process it, if there’s no “ditch” to help with the runoff, we can store up some pretty large reservoirs of pain and anger. Eventually it will begin to spill out, hurting our relationships, impacting our actions and even affecting our health.

The river of suffering is different for everyone and God doesn't want us to navigate it alone. It’s why we have each other. Remember that the next time you’re hurting. Tell someone.

Remember too, we really have no idea the deluge some have experienced in their lives. We run into people all the time with a lot of garbage flowing out of them. Before we judge too quickly, remember a lot of people have spent their lives just trying to keep their head above water.

Take the time to hear their story. Maybe it will be the beginning of a “ditch” that will help release a lake of pain. 

Thankful

I wrote some thank you notes last night. It’s something I don’t do nearly enough. Month after month, people choose to live with less so we can work in ministry.

And all they get out of it the deal is a very rare card with some muddled words of thanks scribbled inside. With my penmanship and spelling capability they probably look like they came from a third grader. 

It’s a humbling thing to write thank you notes because it forces me to look at the hundreds and thousands of dollars people have sacrificed for us.

How do you thank someone for that? The food on my table, mortgage payments, some tuition for Marcus, insurance, Christmas presents, social security, retirement savings and a job I absolutely love, all come from donors.   

For 15 years there hasn't been an aspect of my life covered by “earned” income.

Everything we have has been paid for by someone’s sacrifice.

I've written recently about our funding being low. And I’m sorry if I've come across as ungrateful, panicky or angry. Sometimes those are very easy places to go.  

Peter had no trouble walking on the water until he started looking at the waves. I have the same issue sometimes.

I get caught looking at the problem and the impossibility of the task instead of listening to the one who called me out of the boat.

Writing thank you notes forced me instead see the hand of Christ and the generosity of his people.

Our situation hasn't changed. But we have been so encouraged over the past few months by people who continue to support us, some who have given extra and others who have decide to begin to partner with us.

And I’m thankful that God reminded me of the importance of gratitude and the ability it has to change my thinking.

Today I’m thankful for so many people who have selflessly invested their money, time and lives in me.

What are you thankful for?

Just Keep Going

Nancy and I recently headed west, across the Colorado Rockies and into Utah. We've never lived on this side of the country and we were anxious to see some of the sights The West held.

We haven’t been disappointed. There are mesmerizing views. Places you want to sit and stare at all day, awe inspiring places that fill you with wonder.

But even in its beauty the landscape is foreboding. So much about it is harsh, barren and unforgiving. And it makes me wonder, who the heck were the people who settled this country?

There were men and women who traveled across this place looking for wealth, a new home, religious freedom or for a hundred other reasons.

I’m convinced the front range of the Rockies was settled by people like me. Places like Denver, Colorado Springs and Pueblo were built by people with enough sense of adventure to cross the Great Plains, but then saw the Rockies and said, “Oh, heck no.”

They were smart too, because once you get across the mountains into Utah, there’s nothing, followed by a whole bunch more of nothing. Who were these people? What did they eat? How did they find water? What the heck were they thinking?

More importantly, what were they made of?

When I think about my ease of life, level of comfort and the fact that I scream like a little girl when I see a spider, I’m astounded by the people who built this nation. Men and women who, when it was hard, just kept going.

It’s a huge encouragement and motivator to me. When I think life is difficult, overwhelming and painful I hope will remember these people, take a look at the landscape… and just keep going.

So... Miley

Anyone surprised by Miley Cyrus’ performance at the MTV Music awards hasn't been paying attention. For the past couple of years, she’s been trying to kill Hannah Montana and Sunday’s performance was her attempt to put the final nail in Hannah’s coffin.

I've read a lot of stuff over the past couple of days wondering about Cyrus’ emotional state and concern that she is “acting out.” Maybe she is, but I don’t think so. I think her performance was a calculated move from a 20 year old former child star, determined to show the world that she can be an adult entertainer.

I've read articles from people who were shocked, saddened, worried, troubled and disturbed. And all I keep thing is… “WHY?”

Have people not watched this show before? Were they not watching when Lady Gaga donned her sea shells and thong earlier in the evening? Were they not watching when Madonna and Britney kissed? Were they not watching Britney when she tried to kill her child star status a couple of years ago, or Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” performance?

Folks, this is who we have told Miley she needs to be if she is going to be a female entertainer in this country.

She was a young girl, growing up in the entertainment industry and she’s been watching. She has a dad, who was pretty much a one hit wonder and she’s determined not to be that guy. For years she has seen woman after woman use their bodies and their sexuality to sell tickets and songs. She’s studied hard and Sunday was her final exam. Guess what, she aced it.

Listen, the only reason anyone is upset over her performance is because of who they thought she was. For years, little girls watched Hannah grow up on Disney and they thought they knew her. They thought Hannah and Miley were the same girl. They aren't and on Sunday she made sure we knew it.

People are upset because because they watched a young woman, who they thought was sweet and innocent, objectify herself on national television.  Somehow they miss that she's only doing what we've taught her works. 

Yes, her performance on Sunday was sad, but not because of what it says about her. It’s what it says about us that’s troubling. 

One Word for Leaders

I've had a lot of time to watch leaders in the church and in missions. I've seen good ones and bad ones, the strong and the cowards. It’s impressive how a good leader can motivate a team and how a bad one can shred it.

I've read leadership books and watched videos and most of them have been pretty good, full of practical information about vision, focus, dreams, simplicity and motivation. Really good stuff.

But if I could tell a leader to do one thing, if I had one word I could offer a leader hoping to improve it would be, “listen.”

I've seen so many problems develop between leaders and staff members and between leaders and their peers because they don’t spend enough time with them listening.

Listen to everything. Listen to their ideas about a project. Listen to their ideas about budget. Listen to what they think about the future, vision and direction of the organization. Listen closely to their concerns and their questions.

More than that, listen to their stories. Listen to their stories about their, kids, their spouse, and their vacation. Listen about the football game, the family reunion, their history, the wedding, the funeral. Listen to the things they want to talk about.

Only through careful listening are you going to hear good ideas from good workers, who know their jobs and may see things you can’t. Only through listening can you gain an understanding of what it is they do all day, why your priorities may not be their priorities or why they can’t give you what you’re asking for.

Only through listening can you hear what’s important to them, how to motivate them, encourage them and get the most out of them. Only through listening can you understand the static in their life, the things going on behind the scenes impacting their work.

Only through listening can you understand your fellow leaders and why they think the way they do. You better understand why they come at a project, the budget and even the world from a different angle than you. Only through listening will you begin to see them as a person, an asset and not an advisory in ministry.

If I had one word for a leaders I would tell to listen. What word would choose? 

Leadership & Mean Chicks

Sometimes I think, “I could be a leader.”

I’m smarter than her, more emotionally stable than him, more gifted than that person, less annoying than that one, better decision maker than that guy and way more humble than that one over there.

Then I remember how difficult it is.

Your wife gets sick, keep moving. Your kids struggle in school and socially, keep going. Your mom is diagnosed with a terminal illness, stay the course. You’re homesick, depressed, worn out, insecure, dry, troubled, and lonely, lead on!

You lead different people from varied backgrounds with unique gifting that you need to organize into a cohesive team. Bill isn't qualified. Betty isn't teachable. Sam has anger issues. Mary is lazy. This one is inappropriate. That one is antisocial.

No one wants to change. No one likes your plan. No one gets along. They fight with each other. They fight with you. They push back against anything different, directed or demanded. No one acts like an adult. And no one likes you.

You spend all your time, putting out fires. You feel like you’re managing a preschool instead of leading adults; or worse, a middles school, with various scenes from Mean Chicks popping up.

Leadership isn't always this way. Sometimes, it’s a tremendously rewarding experience, serving with lovely people, who appreciate you and make you look better than you are. It can be a truly humbling experience and provide a tremendous sense of joy.

And sometimes it’s not.

I have no idea what your work situation is or if you have a good boss or a bad one. If it’s been rough lately, I encourage you to take a step back and try to look at your boss as a person. Realize there may be a lot of static in the background of his or her life. Realize too, we may not always be the easiest people to lead. 

A Different Angle

Nancy and I like to take walks together. A number of years ago, I realized I have a hard time talking about my day when I walk in the door. It’s weird, I know, but for some reason I need time to get there.

What’s worse is, sometimes I don’t even know what I’m thinking until it comes out of my mouth. I may have feelings churning around inside that I’m not even aware of until we talk through it together.

So, if I walk in the door and plop down in front of the TV, not only does my wife not hear from me, I don’t even hear from myself.

I’d like to say we walk all the time, but unfortunately, we left life, busyness and sometimes apathy get in the way. But we’ve started walking again, and it’s good.

Yesterday, we began the big loop around the neighborhood we normally take when we had to turn around and head home early. So we were walking in the opposite direction of our normal circuit.

We had only walked a little ways when I looked at Nancy and said, “Have you seen that house before?” It was a unique house that we had walked by tons of times but never really “saw” it. Then it happened again, and again.

Walking the opposite direction gave us a new view of the neighborhood. We saw things we hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a great scene in Dead Poets Society when Robin Williams has his students stand on his desk, in an attempt to get them to look at the world differently. There are things we do every day simply because they are a part of our routine, things we think we know simply because we are so familiar with them.

I wonder though, what in my life needs reevaluation. What habits or routines have I settled into need a different look? What am I not doing that I should be? Where have I grown complacent? 

We can walk the same path day after day, but we may not truly know it, until we turn around and walk the other way. 

God's Injustice

In my 15 years of missions, I've run into a lot of broken people (myself included) who have a lot of conflicted motivations and hang-ups. I've wondered at times, how in the world people come to Christ when God is using this motley band of misfits.

Nancy had worked with a ministry for a number of years when she realized some of their practices were improper, if not sinful. She and a friend confronted the leadership and pointed out the problems. As a result, her group of “friends” turned on her and shunned her. They refused to greet her in the hall and crossed the street when they saw her coming.

Several months later, the ministry was highlighted in church, celebrated and the leadership honored. People were coming to Christ and everyone was rejoicing. It was pretty tough not to jump up in the middle of the service and shout at them for hurting my wife.

I had a pretty blunt conversation with God about it later, helping him understand the injustice of using petty, hypocritical, self promoting sinners to reach the lost.

God’s blunt reply, “Dude, it’s not about you.”

What I lost sight of, in my self-righteous tirade, was a young woman, whose life was shattered, finding healing, grace and freedom. God loved her so much, he didn't care if he had to use sinful people, didn't care if they took the credit for his work in her life and really didn't care if it made me angry.

He loved her.

The world is full of broken people. The church is too. And I realize it has been a place where many have been wounded. If that has been true for you, I am so very sorry.

But let me assure you, the story isn't about those people. It’s about a God who loves you so passionately he came to earth and died for you. There is hope, peace and rest available. The story is about God and he welcomes you into it. 

Why People Leave the Church

I've been around the church all of my 45 years and in some form of ministry for nearly 25. Over that time I've seen guys like Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Baker fall. I've heard some pretty stupid comments come from guys like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson.

It’s stuff the media eats up and cynics point and say, “See! I told you they were fakes!” It’s the kind of stuff that makes me sad.

But I don’t think it’s where the real damage is done.

The real damage is done by gossips and gripers who smile at their pastor after the sermon then cut him over lunch with their friends. It’s done by the petty and protective who have “their” area of ministry, “their” realm of influence and undermine any who threaten it.

The damage is done by those who shun the unclean visitor, the prostitute or the pagan. It's done by the pastor who abuses authority and trust for personal gain and glorification.

It's pretty easy for me to point my finger at pastors of mega churches or televangelists and condemn their actions. I can shake my head, cluck my tongue and moan about the damage their failure will cause the church.

The hard thing to do is look at my life, wonder how often I've criticized a sermon, made a snide remark about my brother, walked past someone I didn't want to greet Sunday morning.

Some people may have left the church because some dude on TV took their money. But I think more have left because regular every day saints have professed the love of Christ while they crucified their neighbor. 

Impulsive

I’m impulsive. It’s not a bad trait when you want to pack up your family and change countries, but not that helpful when you see a set of High School lockers and think, “What would it be like to jump across the top of those?”

Decision making is less of a cost benefit analysis than it is a, “That looks like fun!” kind of thing. Years of physical, financial and emotional pain have helped beat it out of me, but it’s still in there.

So as a son, moving my family to Ecuador in 1999 it never occurred to me the impact that might have on my parents. It was where we thought God wanted us, so, “Cool, let’s go!”

Now as a dad, with boys old enough to make their own decisions and move their own directions, Mom and Dad’s sacrifice becomes much clearer to me.

With thirty more years of wisdom and experience and without the propensity to jump without thinking, they had a much better understanding of the long-term impact of the decision.

Even today, knowing the cost I would make the same decision. But the loss of relationship between my boys and their grandparents still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

The reason I share this with you is because, this month, missionaries from all over the world will return to the U.S. and leave their children, at college or to look for work. It’s something they may have prepared for, but you’re never really ready.

Others will participate in weddings, giving their child in marriage to someone they may never have met.

I tell you this not so you will feel sorry for them, or think they are super spiritual or anything like that. I share it only to help you understand their reality, to know better how to pray for them this month and in the future.

They are parents saying goodbye to their kids. It doesn't matter if you are the one being left or the one leaving, that’s always a hard goodbye.

We're Not the Same

Sitting at my desk I could hear children playing outside. Kids from different nationalities, different countries, with different languages, all running, laughing and playing together. There was the occasional shriek, howl or wail of a child, who had played himself to the point of exhaustion, but even that would make me smile.

It amazes me how different we are. We are so culturally separated, the way we think, absorb and process information is vastly different. The same image, the same situation makes us feel different things and draw different conclusions.

I’ve seen educated men and women in Africa, capable of speaking eight languages, struggle to put together a simple puzzle. I’ve seen educated men and women in the U.S. who could breeze through systematic theology, humiliated in language school.

The language we speak, the culture we live in, the experiences we’ve had all impact the way we view the world. Which means we all view it differently.

But the laughter of a child produces the same response in all of us.

It amazes me how alike we are.  A child who wants “his” toy, young boys wrestling in the dirt, grass or sand, a teenage girl’s insecurity, a young couples obliviousness to the world around them, a mother chastising her son for running into the street, a father consoling his daughter who has fallen, a husband holding his wife’s purse as she haggles over prices, an old couple’s playful banter… I have been so many places and these images are as consistent as the sunrise.

People seem to think that if we focus on our similarities and not our differences we’ll begin to get along, that we need to find common ground. I don’t really think that’s true.

I think we need to embrace our differences. Learn from them. Understand them. Learn to understand that we may never really understand them. Only then can we appreciate the complexity of the issues between us.

We are not the same, you and I. That will make our relationship more difficult and it will make it sweeter. 

MINE!

No matter where you go, every little kid is the same. At some point in their young little lives they realize, if you have something… then they don’t. It doesn't matter if it’s a toy or a cookie, suddenly a light comes on and they realize they are missing out.

When that happens, things are snatched, a face is contorted and they spit out their first four letter word, “MINE!”

As hard as we try, to teach kids to share, that switch never turns off again. As adults it looks different. We would never snatch and scowl and use such an ugly word. By the time we've grown up, we've learned to manipulate and maneuver to conceal the ugliness of our action, but our hearts haven’t changed.

A selfish and coveting heart is a wicked thing and we are all born with one. And it is fed throughout our lives by ads and billboards, television, radio and movies that shout, “Newer, better, faster, smarter, sexier and more satisfying!”

Maybe we've grown up enough, those things don’t bother us. Maybe we think we've matured. We don’t want “the things of this world.” Our hearts are pure.

But what about my freedom, my rights, my power, my authority, my position, my will, my integrity, my character, my reputation, my life? How do we respond when those things are threatened, questioned and taken from us?  

So much damage has been done in the church by pious saints who wouldn't dream of a “frivolous” purchase, but would protect their position with venom. It may look different than the money hungry mobs in Wall Street or the glamour craved stars of Hollywood, but the heart is no different.

If I have truly been crucified with Christ, “mine” is the four letter word that offends him the most.

Grow A Burger

I read today that they have grown a hamburger from stem cells. Apparently, we now have the ability to grow our own meat in a lab without the assistance of a cow. Someone will soon eat the $380,000 burger.

Over thousands of years man has amassed an enormous amount of knowledge. We’ve eradicated diseases, visited the moon and explored the depths of our oceans. We’ve discovered earth is one tiny speck of dust in the vast expanse of the universe, seemingly insignificant and still unique.

So much knowledge and we’re still so stupid.

For some reason we’re still trying to kill each other. Because you have what I want, don’t look like me, don’t agree with me. We kill each other for nations, for religions and for a buck 60.

I’ll kill you because I’m bigger and stronger, because I’m afraid of you, because I have a gun. Maybe I don’t need a reason, I’ll do it because I can.

We are amassing all of the knowledge of the universe and we’re still as stupid as Cain.

We should be astonished by our accomplishments and horrified by our depravity, but we read about both with such increasing velocity we yawn and click the next link.

All of this would be depressing if I didn’t have faith in Christ, the promise of his return and the hope that comes with it. One of the reasons I believe is because the alternative is too pathetic; millions of years of evolution and we’re just as dumb as when we first crawled out of the water. 

Roundabouts

Europe has a lot of roundabouts. You know, those traffic circles that take a more “organic” view of traffic patterns. Cars glide into and out of the flow of traffic naturally, as God intended.

Unless, of course, if you’re used to red lights. Then roundabouts are a chaotic jumble of vehicles, bobbing and weaving in and out of traffic with no particular system or order, absolute chaos created by Satin himself.

One thing you learn pretty quickly is: When entering a roundabout, never assume what the driver rounding the circle is going to do. Don’t look at his blinkers. Don’t factor in his speed. Pay no attention to the angle of direction, making it appear the car is exiting. Those things only lead to tears.

Only when the vehicle has completely left the roundabout, or driven past you, can you feel free to enter.

We should live all of life this way. We spend a lot of time wondering, “What if… ?” You can insert your particular phobia.

It starts in school. “What if I don’t pass this test?” The issues get bigger as we grow older. What if I choose “the wrong” university? What if I don’t get a job? What if I can’t find a mate? What if something is wrong with my baby? What if she leaves me? What if I get fired? What if I don’t have enough for retirement? What if the cancer comes back? What if…?”

There is risk we can mitigate, and we should. You know, the whole, “an ounce of prevention” thing. But you can’t live there. You can’t spend your life asking “What if… ?” If you do, you never truly live.

Christ tells us that each day has enough trouble, so deal with the trouble of today and let tomorrow worry about itself. You can go ahead and try to jump into “tomorrow’s roundabout” if you want to, but today will be a lot more enjoyable if you wait until it gets here. 

The Intuition Problem

My mom had a gift, an intuitive ability to understand people, sometimes even before they understood themselves. That, in addition to her nearness to God, allowed her to offer wisdom and healing to lost and hurting hearts.

I like to think of myself as intuitive, sometimes. It’s a great asset if you’re trying to understand how someone feels, but doesn’t help much with balancing your checkbook.

I think we all try to read people and situations. It’s easier for some of us than others, but with two-thirds of all communication being nonverbal we all rely heavily, not just on what we hear, but what we see.

Then our minds start to make sense of the image, like a puzzle, arranging the pieces until we can draw a conclusion.

It’s a great system that helps us understand what’s behind someone’s words. We don’t just know what they say, we know what they mean.

But we rarely get a complete image, so we fill in the gaps. We draw from our own stories and fill in the holes, like grabbing pieces out of another puzzle box to see if they fit.

The less I know of you, the more gaps in the image, the more gaps, the more I insert my own story. Basically, the more I don’t know, the more I make up. And I have a pretty active imagination.

The problem is my story doesn’t fit into yours. They are different. I am reading, evaluating and judging based on what little I see, then filtering it through my past.

The more I think about that, the scarier it sounds.

In the background of our conversations oozes a history of family, playground politics, childhood sweethearts, betrayal, hope, aggression, insecurity, affluence, failure, joy, poverty, loss, success and education, most of which I will never get to know.

Throw in race, religion and culture and it’s surprising we don’t have more protests, violence and war.

It’s bad enough in normal relationships, but then we make judgments based on what we see on TV, the internet, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. We claim to know the picture, based on one piece of a puzzle… just because it’s connected to 99 pieces of our own.

It’s easier to judge from the filter of your experience, than it is to inter into the pain of someone else’s.  It’s sloppy and maybe even damaging, but it’s easy… and we do it all the time. 

Be Like Christ and Make Me Happy!

Christians get in trouble with each other (very, very rarely of course) because we expect our brothers and sisters to respond in a Christ-like manner. 

We get blindsided when we realize we are still dealing with people who are broken and sometimes sinful. More importantly, they may even have a different view of what a “Christ-like” response would be.

Being the expert on Christ-likeness, I will now help you understand what a Christ-like response is… it is one that makes me happy!

No, really.

If you want to have the attitude of Christ, first ask me what I want and then give it to me. You should also forgive me my minor affronts and failings, because that’s what Christ would do.

Doesn't the Bible say he will forgive all our sins and if we ask anything in his name he will give it to us?

So, if you want to be like Christ, forgive me and give me what I want.

I guess I shouldn't just ask you for stuff. I should really say, “In Jesus name, give me your taco!” Either way, you’re supposed to give it to me.

Yes, yes he did rebuke Peter and broke out a can of “Whoop-hiney” on the money changers, but that was just a flash of OT Jesus. You know, he was in between the Testaments so there had to be a little residual OT in there.

Now we live in the age of Grace, Baby!

So don’t confront me when I make poor decisions. Don’t challenge me when I’m selfish and petty. Don’t question my bad attitudes. And please, PLEASE don’t expect me to grow.

Growth is for the birds. It’s painful and I might actually have to change.

Don’t try to have a hard conversation with me, because frankly, it would be hard. I might get my feelings hurt, or be forced to think about stuff. I’m certain to get mad at you, and you don’t what THAT, do you?

Instead be like Christ. Give me what I want and forgive whatever I do without question or consequence. And I’ll continue to live my shallow, little, non-reflective, growth-stunted Christian life.

That’s what you would do if you REALLY loved me, right? 

Relax, It's Not About You

The nice thing about working for a Christian organization is, each morning I get together with people I care about and we can talk about God’s word, our lives and pray together. It’s beautiful really, and I’m not thankful enough for it.

This morning a friend reminded me of 1 Corinthians 1:26-31, God choosing the foolish, weak and base, the “things that are not… so no man may boast before God.”

We talked about the disciples and were reminded of the rabble of men Christ chose to be closest to him. I had to smile as I thought about the rabble of folks he’s brought to HCJB Global.

Bright and gifted, from different countries, cultures and contexts drawn together by a longing to let people know about Jesus. We are a weird and wonderful bunch of ragamuffins, not dissimilar from the strange group of people first touched by the Gospel.

It’s a humbling thing to serve with them.

The Bible doesn't tell us Christ went to the temple and asked the Chief Priest to follow him. But he did talk to some guys out fishing. It’s like he skipped Rick Warren to go chat with the guys stocking shelves at Walmart.

I think we question that we can have an impact in this world because we question our abilities and our chance of "success." The beauty is it’s not about you. It's not about me either, though that’s a harder lesion to learn. 

So if you’re feeling, foolish, weak and base, cheer up! You’re in good company. And no matter how you feel, know that you were chosen. 

Transparency

For me, something happens in the life of a person when they come to Christ. There is a realization they are broken, away from God and unable to repair the relationship. In that moment, there is an honesty, a transparency, between the soiled and the sacred.

There is a moment when the realization of depravity is so profound and the sense of acceptance so great you don’t care who knows where you've come from or what you've done. In fact, you feel so free for the first time, you want everyone to know.

Like this clip of Delmar in Oh Brother Where Art Thou? you want everyone to know how much you have been forgiven.

But something happens to us along the way. The transparency that was so life giving at the beginning gets covered by status.

We’re clean and everyone around us looks clean too. Our story of cleanliness inspires others and elevates us. We feel valued, respected and important. It feels good and the thought of losing it begins to drive us. 

Basically, at some point, it becomes about me. So when we stumble, we hide it, protect the status and chip away at our freedom.

It’s a tragedy.

I’m sinful. I can be selfish, inauthentic, a bad husband, bad father, arrogant, condescending, critical, lie and wrestle with addiction. These are aspects of my character I hate, but have to admit are there… and his grace is sufficient.

If I hide that truth from you, I hide the grace of God. How arrogant is that?

If I care more about your opinion of me than I do about sharing God’s story of forgiveness, whatever my struggle, I rob myself of the freedom it brings and rob you of witnessing the goodness of God. 

Transparency is hard, risky and can cost you… it almost certainly will. 

What’s hard to understand is, the brokenness caused by it's absence is far more severe. 

Why Americans Hate Soccer

Standing on the roof of a hotel in Africa, I heard some commotion down below me. It was some men arguing in a language I didn't know. It was a sound I've heard many times before, so when I looked down I wasn't surprised to see they were playing soccer.

Early the next morning, Nancy and I dodged three different games being played on the beach by boys, young men and men who wished they were young. We could have been in Ecuador, or any one of 190 other countries around the world.

The world is crazy about soccer. But Americans hate it.

Two things changed my attitude about soccer, watching Marcus play (Andrew prefers hockey) and Ecuador’s first ever trip to the World Cup in 2002. It’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement when living in little nation that is surpassing expectations.

I think Americans hate it because we don’t understand it. Most of us haven’t grown up playing it, so we don’t appreciate the difficulty and athleticism involved. We don’t understand the rules and the points for wins, losses and ties.

We don’t like ties… and we really don’t like losing, which happens to our national team every World Cup. Sure, we’re able to squeak out victories in qualifying, over nations a fraction of our size, but can’t seem to manage it against countries with a larger talent pool.

Losing drives us nuts so we complain about soccer being a sport with few goals scored and nil-nil ties (we don’t like the word ‘nil’ either). We complain about that, so we don’t have to admit that the rest of the world is better at something than we are.

We’re 22 in world rankings. About the same spot we are in math, science and reading (we hate those things too).

My attitude towards soccer changed because I had something at stake; Marcus or my adopted country was playing. I think we only begin to care about things when we are invested, only then do we truly pay attention.

It's true of a person, family community or nation. Look at where they are spending their money, then you will know what they really love.  

When the Church is a Teenage Girl

It’s amazing how needy we can be. A quick glance at Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or Vine will reveal people clamoring for attention, to be noticed, to be “liked.”

Citing the dopamine and oxytocin produced by pictures, posts and “likes” a Psychology Today article noted, “Facebook fools our brain into believing that loved ones surround us…” 

I saw a recent interview about the impact this is having on young women. The more revealing the outfit, the more attention their photo draws. Not a pretty recipe for an insecure young teen.

I wonder sometimes if we in the church aren't much different than that teenage girl.

We all have a need for significance. We want to be a part of something, a community of change, a place where hearts are healed and lives are restored. That’s a good thing. It’s something I believe God wants for us as well.

But I worry that sometimes in our quest to make a difference, our focus changes. We become less concerned about the needs of those we’re serving than we are about protecting what we've built.

It might be our organization, or our job or our reputation. The focus becomes growth, achievement and status instead of service, sacrifice and love.

Somewhere, I make it about me.

Your significance was proclaimed two thousand years ago on a cross. That’s how much you’re worth. Your value was displayed before you ever accomplished anything. Quit striving you’re already known… and you are loved.