a boyd's blog

Moved my blog (kinda)

2010-03-18T05:48:00.000-07:00

I've moved. Same content; new blog (name). Check me out over here!

It Really Does Matter

2010-03-04T09:54:00.000-08:00

My first conversation with Tim was exactly a month ago. It was a call that absolutely rocked my spirit and reawakened me to the fight I am in, along with so many others.

In a perfect world, that phone call would have led to an immediate change in Tim. After all, as Christians, isn't that what we want - to see that instant change in people and to know that what we say and what we pray actually matters?

But that's not exactly how it worked. After all, we don't live in a perfect world.

Since that first call with Tim, he has lost his job and found himself again on the verge of suicide - complete with bottle in one hand, gun in the other. And on more than one occasion he has called me with doubts, questions, fears and a feeling of hopelessness.

God, though, never abandoned Tim.

My latest phone call with Tim was just about 15 minutes ago. To say that there has been a change in his life would be an understatement. Because the man I just spoke with is literally on his way to becoming a new person!

Over the last four weeks, Tim has begun to find his way to God. He's found a new job, gotten rid of the gun, and begun to dive into God's Word. He's understanding things about God that never made sense to him before. He's asking questions that never occured to him before (and not the "why me" questions, but the "what now" questions.) And he's planning on coming to church this weekend - expecting God to move in a big way in his life...and I'm sure He will.

Tim wanted to thank me for my prayers. And he wanted me to thank you for yours. He feels them, almost literally. And he is on the verge of making the single greatest decision any of us can ever make. God is so good!

And just in case you needed a reminder: what you pray actually does matter.

Deadly Serious

2010-02-06T05:03:00.000-08:00

The day ended with one last phone call. I was pretty exhausted from a day of fielding phone calls, responding to emails and watching all the talk over the internet. Not to mention the fact that one of the most important written pieces of the year is in the works. The work load wasn't bad. It was the emotional toll of the spiritual fighting.

Now, let me be clear. I'm not complaining. I have what I think is the greatest calling and opportunity of anyone I know. I just really didn't want to take that one last phone call, especially at the end of the day. But something in the guy's tone on the voicemail told me I needed to make this call. So I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Right away, I found out that this man, Tim, was in trouble. He used phrases like "end of my rope" and "don't know where to turn." And I got it, I told him. We've all been there. Sometimes we just need to talk it through. But then it turned deadly serious...no. It turned eternally serious. This man was on the edge of committing suicide.

Immediately, I flagged down some other staff members, although I didn't know what they were going to do. I was the one on the phone with him. And on the other hand, I didn't know what I was going to do. I'd never been in that situation before.

But then, I asked Tim a simple question. Well, I thought it was simple. I was just trying to keep him on the line and talking. I said, "Tim, are you a Christian?" The answer was immediate and short. "No."

And for the next 2 hours, I had the opportunity to share with this man the fact that God loves him, no matter what he is facing right now. Tim had no idea about Jesus, the Bible, prayer...none of it. How he got to me is a miracle itself. But he was on the phone. God had orchestrated the conversation for a reason. So I started at the beginning in the Garden and worked my way all the way through Tim's life and how Christ is the answer he's looking for. He had a lot of questions. I had some answers. But as I talked with him, I felt a peace and focus that only comes from God. Although Tim was on the edge, God's hand began working in his life and brought him back a little bit.

I don't say all this to put a notch in my Christian belt. You can have that belt if you think that's what this is about. Tim is still far away. He's still hurting. He's still doubting. But he's asking the questions. He's seeking God. And the Scriptures tell us that when you seek God, you will find him. Tim will find God. He will find the peace that surpasses all understanding.

But as I reflect back on that call, I realize something else. In the middle of what feels like an enormous battle, it can be easy to say we want to quit. But there's a reason we're fighting. And last night, I was reminded of that reason. While Tim is the one seeking God, that conversation helped me rediscover the passion I have for the fight.

My prayer now if for Tim. He is the civilian that is often caught up in the throws of a war - a war he doesn't necessarily understand, but a war that is being fought for him.

And for those of you fighting in that same war with me, I encourage you to stay focused. Don't quit the fight. It's not easy. But when lives and eternities are at stake, it is definitely worth the cost.

Creative Consequences

2010-02-03T07:18:00.000-08:00

(*Warning: there may be a high level of sarcasm peppered throughout this post.)

Sometimes the Boyd children aren't perfectly well-behaved. I know; it shocks me too. You'd think a 9 year old and a 7 year old who live in a house where the behavioral expectations are clear would just get it, especially having been raised in the same system for all these years. But alas, such is not the case. So, from time to time, discipline is a part of life. We don't "punish" our children. We allow them to face the consequences for their choices. Some of those consequences are good. Some are bad. But we try to make all of them, well, creative.

Over the years, we've done our best to take a cue from our Pastor and be as creative as we can when it comes to teaching our children and correcting their behavior. Many people have asked us about some of those adventures in discipline, so I thought I'd share just a few of the more effective (and let's be honest, amusing) consequences our boys have faced.

Pick up the phone. When our boys decide that their extra-curricular activities are rights rather than privileges, the results can sometimes be seen in their behavior. When it escalates to the point of ridiculousness, the ECA for the day is out of the question. But it doesn't stop with not getting to go. They then have to pick up the phone and call the coach themselves to explain why they won't be at practice. For some reason, having to talk about poor behavior choices with another authority figure outside the family brings it home or them. (The latest situation will have Jackson writing a letter of apology to his teacher, which is an adaptation of the phone thing.)
The 5 Minute Rule. Our boys dawdle. A lot! And for some reason, it's worse during shower time. So we've employed the 5 minute rule. We allow them 5 minutes of hot water during their showers. After that, the hot water gets shut off. The kicker is that they still have to finish their shower. Cold, I know. But effective.

Anyone with more than one child knows that, although they can be sweet to each other, the peace and harmony can just as easily give way to bickering and quarrelling. And just like in any multi-child household, our boys fight. What we've done in those cases has varied. It really depends on what we feel like putting up with. Some of the things they've had to do as the result of a brotherly battle have been:

Write down 10 things they like about each other. After that, they have to sit facing one another and read the list to one another. This always results in laughter and smiles, which is a nice bonus.
Work together. The one I have in mind is the time they had to pick up the dog poop from the back yard. What should have taken about 30 minutes ended up taking 5 1/2 hours. That's right. They spent the entire Saturday picking up dog poop. (I told you they dawdle a lot.) But by the end, they were goofing around and having a great time with each other.
Just sit there. Once at NRH2O, they got into that bickering, back-and-forth fighting that is always so fun to deal with in public. But, rather than hauling them off to some corner to discipline them while trying to maintain some level of dignity in the eyes of compelte strangers, we decided not to deal with it at all. We simply told them to go sit at a table. The killer part was that we stayed in the pool where we could see them and they could see us. I can't imagine what was going on in their minds while they watched Mom and Dad have a blast in the wave pool, but I can tell you that the rest of the day we didn't have a single problem.
Just lay there. One of my favorite so far was one Carissa came up with in the spur of the moment. They were treating each other terribly one day after school. And she had just had it. But she didn't yell. She didn't scream. She just had them stop what they were doing, go into the dining room and lay down. On their backs. Staring at the ceiling. Did I mention we have concrete floors? I'm not sure how long they laid there, but it left enough of an impression on them that they still talk about it today.

These are just a few of the things we've done to help our children learn the right behavior. Has it helped? I hope so. But I'm sure there will be many more situations over the coming years. But my prayer is that through it all they come to understand that, while we got some amusement out of the creative ways we discipline, the point is always that we love them.

Do not withhold discipline from a child... Proverbs 23:13

When the sun rises again

2010-01-25T05:40:00.000-08:00

The hardest part of writing, to me, is always the first few words. I've heard it said that in speaking, the first 30-45 seconds are crucial to capturing the audience. I believe in writing it's the first 5-10 words. Because it's the those few precious words that can capture the reader and draw them in. It's also those first few words that set the tone. They can lay a foundation for hope, or set the tone for something completely different.

If you're still reading this, then those intial words worked. Or perhaps you're still reading because you know me and you wanted to know what I find to be the most difficult aspect of what I do. Either way, thank you. And hang in there...this really is going somewhere.

The last few weeks, no...the last few months (and in some cases years) have been challenging for a lot of people close to me. Some would say it's "just life," but there have been circumstances and situations that have been especially difficult to process. Some of them avoidable; others not. But no matter who or what caused them, they are happening.

As I have faced the latest of these, something came to mind that I'd never really considered. The hardest part of facing a difficult situation, for me, is the very beginning. It's that first thunderclap that rattles me the most. It's not that the repercussions aren't hard to handle. There are lives affected, questions unanswerd and pieces scattered, left to pick up. But it's those initial moments that are the hardest, because it's then that the memory of how things "used to be" is still too fresh. And the prospect of life taking a different direction after the storm is simply foreign.

But I've also thought about something else. It's in those initial moments that God seems the closest. Those "initial moments" might be a few days; they might be a few years. But no matter how long they are, that's when God's power, his love and his grace are most evident.

I say that because, as the situation becomes more distant; as the storm calms, I have a tendency to allow life to become the routine that can so often make God's omniscience and omnipotence seem less, well, omni. It's not that I don't recognize the fact that God is God. But I get to a point that, in my mind, even he becomes somewhat routine.

Not any more.

I've gone through enough...let me rephrase that. He's brought me through enough that I don't want him to be routine in my life. Ever. So as I draw further from the last difficult situation and closer to the next one, I am approaching each day as the adventure it was intended to be. Because it's through adventure that I can recognize my own frailty and God's ultimate power. It's only by wathcing the thunderstorm roll in and then out again that I see the majesty of my maker and fully enjoy the peace that comes when the sun rises again.

A Different Kind of Christmas Poem

2009-12-10T06:54:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine forwarded this to me. For obvious reasons, I wanted to post it here for you...

A Different Kind of Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed 'round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said, "It’s really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers.
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

"I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile."

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least?
Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

"For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

Skeptic? I doubt it.

2009-11-17T18:04:00.000-08:00

Life has a funny way of changing your perspective on things. You start off as a kid with an eternal hope about everything. You truly believe that when you grow up you can become anything you want to be. You truly believe that your heroes are just that...heroes. You truly believe what people tell you, because why would anyone tell you anything other than the truth?

But somewhere along the path, things change. You begin to have doubts about what you can do, who you can become. You begin to see that people are people and they make mistakes, no matter how many homeruns they hit, symphonies they compose or best-selling novels they write. And you experience the pain of lies and deception from other people, causing you to build walls that keep the truth from penetrating your heart, even when the truth is there. And over time, skepticism sets in.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think being a skeptic is all bad. I think it’s even necessary in order to keep from getting hurt too much. But there’s a difference between skepticism and hopelessness.

What I pray is that I don’t allow the skepticism that has developed over years of life to keep hope out. I pray that being realistic (a synonym for skeptical) doesn’t keep me from finding a glimmer of possibility in every situation, every day. And I pray that, although I’ve faced my own lies and deception just as much as those of others, I don’t lose sight of the power of God to use anything for his good.

If anyone can turn the tide of my skepticism, it’s God. Because only he can turn pain into joy, hurt into smiles, and a skeptic’s heart to one that beats loudly and quickly for him.

Rock 'n' Roll

2009-11-16T07:07:00.001-08:00

Blank Pages, New Words

2009-10-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

I write. It's what I do. Sometimes what I write is worth reading. Sometimes the greatest hope I have is found on the next blank page. Because on that page is one more chance to get it, well, right.

But over the last several years, there has been an underlying sense in my soul that I'm missing it. I've written I don't know how many words, sentences, paragraphs, pages. Yet, through them all, I have yet to find the perfect combination of vowels and consonants and punctuation marks that will somehow, someway fully define my life.

It all pays out so well in my mind; so poetic.

I'm sitting in a cabin overlooking a pond or a lake. Maybe I'm on the porch. Maybe I'm at a desk next to the fireplace. Either way, I'm definitely in the mountains. It’s all very Walden Pond.

Yet, unlike Thoreau, I'm not writing. Not yet. I'm just sitting there thinking, waiting for that perfect phrase to come to mind. As I wait, memories flood my mind. Relationships, experiences, prayers, successes, failures. But in my mind, I don’t actually write anything. Because all the while I’m still searching.

Maybe in my mind I never actually get that phrase or sentence written down because that’s not what it’s all about. Maybe it’s about discovering those things that God has placed deep in my soul. And slowly, through the ups and down of life, the victories and struggles, the mountaintop adventures and the valleys of defeat, I’m discovering more and more of who I was made to be. And it’s only through discovering that I can begin defining.

Maybe in all the searching, the key is not to miss one thing in hopes of discovering another. Maybe it’s not so much about finding that perfect combination of words as much as it is experiencing the journey, the struggle, the excitement of learning new ones.

Facebook Brought My Friend Back to Life

2009-10-14T18:48:00.000-07:00

I'd asked her if she knew what ever happened to Trey. I had lost touch with him and couldn't seem to find him, though I'd tried several times throughout the years.

"Oh, you hadn't heard? I hate to be the one to tell you, but Trey died in a car accident just after high school. I'm sorry no one called you."

It was one of those moments in life when time stopped.

Trey had been one of my childhood friends. Probably my best. I hadn't talked to him since I was 12 or 13, but nearly every memory I have as a child includes Trey.

I left the restaurant that day in a daze, walked blankly into our apartment and cried on Carissa's shoulder, probably for hours. For the next several days, I went through the process of mourning the loss of a close friend.

All the typical feelings came flooding in. Guilt for having lost touch. Anger for having been moved out of my hometown. Sorrow for not ever having the chance to talk with him again.

Over the next 10 years, Trey became a memory. I thought about him all the time. I talked about him with my wife. I remembered him every time I watched A&M play football. (We were going to be roommates and study law together, neither of which ever happened.) I laughed, often to myself, as I became a father and thought of all the stupid things we had done as kids that I'm sure my sons will do.

I would search occassionally for him, going as far as looking for his name online in obituaries from the mid-90s. And I had every intention of calling his parents. But after so many years, what would I possibly say?

Ultimately, I came to accept the fact that he was gone.

Then, I got an email on Facebook. And time stopped again.

Trey was (is) alive! A mix up in names was all it comes down to.

And this past weekend, I had the opportunity to see my friend who isn't dead. We spend about 5 hours catching up. I went to his parents' house and ate lunch with him in my old hometown. It was the most surreal experience of my life. I can't begin to explain the emotions of thinking a friend is dead, only to find out they are alive.

Now, I know Facebook didn't really bring Trey back to life. God has been watching over him ever since the last time Trey and I talked (and every moment before, too). And who knows? God may have thought it was funny that I thought Trey was dead, because He certainly knew we'd get back in touch.

God works in mysterious ways. Cliche? Maybe. True? Definitely. But all I can say is that I am thankful to have my friend back. Thankful mostly to God. And yes, a little thankful to Facebook too.

God in a Box

2009-09-29T09:22:00.000-07:00

God fits in a box. Let me rephrase that.

I try to make God fit in a box.

I hate to admit it, but sometimes I try to crease, fold and then shove God into a metaphorical 6-sided contraption (there are 6 sides to a box, right?)

Don't get me wrong. I know I can’t possibly do that. After all, God is omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. But no matter how omni-whatever I know he is, I still try my hardest to put him into something I can manipulate, handle and understand.

For the most part, when I go to God, I have my little mental checklist of things to cover with him. But this morning, as I was going thorough my list of "things to talk with God about," I realized exactly what I was doing. I was trying to fit God into a neat little package.

I guess another way to say it is that I was limiting, in my own mind at least, who God is, what he can see, how much he loves and what he can do in my life.

I know I'm not actually limiting him. But the reality is that so often I don’t open myself up enough to see that there's so much more to God than what I can understand.

I think too often I get in a routine with God. And when you get routine with the supernatural, it can become something you try to tame. But God is untamable. He’s, well, un-boxable.

So I’m thankful that, even though I try, God will never fit into the box I try to put him in. And I’m even more thankful that he’ll forgive me for even trying.

He's Just a Little Boy

2009-09-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

Jackson is starting his 3rd season of baseball next week. Little League baseball. But the word "little" doesn't describe his excitement. He's at the stage right now that, if you asked him what he wants to do when he grows up, he'd say, "I'm going to be a professional baseball player!" And to that I say, "Go for it!"

But for now, I have to remind myself that he's just just a little boy. It's hard, because when he's on the field (and actually paying attention) he seems so much older. He focuses. He hustles. He swings with all he's got. And he dives for ground balls like he's Derek Jeter. But again, he's still just a little boy.

I came across this poem this morning that hopefully will help me remember that. I don't know who wrote it. But I think it's something every parent needs to keep in mind.

So If you're going to be in the stands at any little league games - from baseball to football and everything in between - keep these words in mind. And remember...

He stands at the plate with heart pounding fast.
The bases are loaded; the die has been cast.
Mom and Dad cannot help him, he stands all alone.
A hit at this moment, would send the team home.
The ball nears the plate; he swings and he misses.
There's a groan from the crowd, wiith some boos and hisses.

A thoughtless voice yells out, "Strike Out the bum!"
Tears fill his eys; the game is no longer FUN.
Remember - He is just a little boy who stands all alone.

So open your heart and give him a break,
for it's at moments like this, a man you can make.
Keep this in mind when someones forgets,
he's just a little boy, not a man...yet.

Jesus Was 33 Once, Too

2009-08-31T17:54:00.000-07:00

I turned 33 yesterday. Not really a milestone birthday. No fanfare. No big party. Just time away with my wife, alone on Friday and Saturday. And then time with the family yesterday. I can't remember a better birthday.

And then I got to thinking. I'm now the same age Jesus was when he died. I mentioned that fact to a friend of mine today and he asked, jokingly, "And do you feel bad because you haven't accomplished as much as him?"

Now, I know there is no way I could ever accomplish what Jesus did. That's not the point.

I don't know what it is about birthdays that make you start considering what you've done, where you've been and who you are. But that's how it is with me, especially as I get "older" (I know 33 isn't that old). Another friend of mine told me today that it's in your mid-30s that you start really contemplating what life is all about, where you place priority and what holds value - real value. Not the value you place on a car when you're 16. I guess she's right.

Over the last several weeks I've spent a lot of time just ... thinking. About life. About God. About where he has me and about what holds value for me. I've thought about a lot of things. But one thing I thought of just tonight. And this is one I'll spend a lot of time pondering in the days and weeks to come.

I'm not sure if Jesus celebrated his birthdays or not. But if he did, 33 was the last one. And that got me thinking even more. (thoughts lead to thoughts in my world)

What if this is the last birthday I have on earth? Have I done all I can to show people what - and more importantly, who I truly value? Because I know Jesus did. And while I can't accomplish what he did (that's why I need him), I can follow his example and live for the things that truly matter.

Simply Putting the Pieces Together

2009-08-19T18:05:00.000-07:00

"In building the temple, only blocks dressed at the quarry were used, and no hammer, chisel or any other iron tool was heard at the temple site while it was being built" (1 Kings 6:7).

Think about that. The quarry this verse is talking about wasn't around the corner, or even down the street. It was in another country! Yet, the preparation was so thought out; the planning was so precise, that all that was left to be done at the actual site of the temple was simply putting the pieces together.

No on site adjusting.
No on site tweaking.
No on site hammering.

All that was left was to put together what God had in mind on the site God had chosen with the plans God had laid out.

How often, though, do I try to hammer, tweak and adjust things on site because I failed to plan sufficiently, because I thought I could do it on my own with my own plans? And how much better would things go if I would take the time to study God's plan, prepare in advance and then follow his lead?

God, help me to prepare for the things you have in store for me with the plans you have laid out. Help me to remain humble enough to see that your ways are better than mine. And help me show others how, if they would continue to follow you, all that's left is simply putting the pieces together.

It's A Hard Question To Ask

2009-08-14T14:44:00.001-07:00

Would I sacrifice my relationship with God in order to be more comfortable in this lifetime?

I ran across this question the other day. And immediately I thought, "Of course not!"

That was before I really thought about it.

Most of my relationship with God is contingent upon the fact that I need him. In fact, my entire relationship with God is contingent on that fact.

I need his Son.
I need his love.
I need his grace.
I need his guidance.
I need his hope.
I need his patience.
And I need his forgiveness ... forgiveness for things that are in my life that I know shouldn't be. And if those things were gone and no longer needed forgiving; if he somehow magically fixed them, would it change my relationship with him?

There are behaviors, actions, and thoughts that I ask God to remove from my life all the time. They are struggles for me. I know they aren't good for me. I know they keep me from experiencing the most out of life. So, I often ask him, beg him and plead for him to just remove them. I want God to clear them out of the way of that path he wants me to take.

But there's another aspect to the things I struggle with. I think they help keep me tethered to God.

I'm not saying those things are good in any way. They aren't. They are, simply put, sin. But if those things were magically gone, I have to ask myself, would I still remain as tethered to him as I am? Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe the answer is that I would, just in a different way. Maybe God allows me to struggle with certain things now in order to remain tethered to him so that when they aren't a part of my life, I'll remain tethered to him for other reasons.

I don't pretend to have it all figured out. And if anyone does, they're lying to you. It's just something that got me thinking.

It's a hard question to ask. It's a even harder question to answer.

It Wasn't That High. Or Was It?

2009-08-14T05:14:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago my family and I were at Possum Kingdom Lake for the day. Boat rides, rope swings and swimming were on the agenda. What wasn't on the agenda, but ended up happening, was the one memory I'll take from that day.

It wasn't that high, really. Maybe 12-15 feet. But when you're 4 feet tall, 12 feet is huge! Especially when you're jumping from the height into the water. But that's what he wanted to do. The only things he knew were that he wanted to jump and that I was down in the water waiting for him. So, without hesitation, Parker jumped.

It was his first cliff diving experience. And his reaction said it all.

Exhiliration at first, standing there looking down. Just the possibility of hurdling through the air was enough to put a smile on his little face. Then, sheer panic a moment after he jumped. All of a sudden he realized there's nothing that's going to stop him now. No turning back. And then, pure excitement and thrill as he hit the water and came back up.

"That was AWESOME!"

Yes, Parker, it was. Great job, kiddo.

It's Never Always

2009-07-31T19:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever realized how everyone you meet describes everything they talk about? I mean, I never realized how much everyone use absolutes all the time. Everyone is always talking about how everything is the greatest or least or most or best or worst. It's like they've never considered the fact that there are always things in between extremes. In fact, when you think about it, everything is in the in between...except for the two things that actually would be the extremes of any given situation or circumstance.

Hang with me here.

It's not that nothing is ever always. And it's not that nothing is ever never. But nothing short of God is always, always. And nothing is never, never. (I feel like the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland.)

God is always. This I know is true. As for the rest? Well. Never say never. Because that's not necessarily true. And never say always. Because that's not the case either.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: when you decide to talk about something or think about something, don't limit it to extremes. Instead, get the right perspective and realize that most of life is lived in the middle. Because when you focus on that, the possibilities are endless.

More Than Meets the Eye?

2009-07-20T18:01:00.000-07:00

Transformers - more than meets the eye! Long before it was a multi-million dollar industry, Transformers was just a cheesy cartoon. But the toys? Man, those things were IT! They really were more than met the eye.

Now, I want you to know that I never wanted to be one of those "when I was growing up" kind of people. But I'm finding myself quickly turning that way. It's not that I think life was so much better "way back" then. But there are two areas that I think it definitely was. Cartoons and toys. This post is about (one of) the toys (I really don't want to spend as much time as it would take to go into my cartoons-aren't-what-they-used-to-be rant.)

The one Transformer I remember most was Optimus Prime - commander of the Autobots. Iron cast. Nearly indestructible. In fact, I remember throwing him high into the air and watching him bounce off the concrete driveway, seconds before I ran over him with my Mongoose bicycle. And yet, he would stand strong, with nothing more than a few scrapes. It took a curious 10 year old and a Philips head screwdriver to finally get the best of him.

So when Transformers came out a few years ago, I was excited. I knew they would pull out all the marketing stops with this one. We were bound to be inundated with the movie/toy/lunchbox/t-shirt/temproary tattoo/anything-they-can-get-the-brand-on kind of marketing. But the toys were what excited me. Because finally, my sons would be able to play with a toy I had known and loved. Finally, they would discover something that was more than meets the eye.

Then, Jackson bought his first Transformer. He saved his allowance and "patiently" waited until he could buy...Bumblebee. Bumblebee?! Ok, so that one wasn't around when I played with them. No big deal. At least it's still the car/robot concept. And at least Jackson would know the greatness that is Transformers.

Well, he still doesn't. And he never fully will. When we opened the package, we didn't discover the strong, nearly indestructible iron cast toy I played with; the one I had for years. What we found was a cheap plastic mess of gears and pieces that fall off and will no doubt break if even dropped.

So I'm making this prediction now. I predict that this toy will last maybe until the end of the summer. Sorry, dude. You probably won't even remember that you had this cheap little thing.

More than meets the eye? Try, less than advertised.

Thanks for the Reminder

2009-07-18T05:13:00.000-07:00

This past week I had an opportunity to get out to our church's camp, Allaso Ranch. I went there for work - to find stories of life change in some students' lives. God had something else he also wanted me to see while I was there.

As I arrived at the camp, I pretty much knew what to expect.

I expected the camp itself to be phenomenal, which it is! (Do you know of any other camp that has five-star quality food and lodging AND two zip lines, a full swim center and a high ropes course?)

I expected the energy of the staff and students to be busting the walls of every building, which it was!

I expected to hear stories of how God is moving and breathing and working in students' lives for eternity, which I did.

But as I sat backstage with Pace before he spoke last Tuesday night, God reminded me of something. My expectations don't mean a whole lot. And in fact, they can be very dangerous.

Pace was running through his talk and he said, "There's a fine line between expecting God to show up and disrespecting God."

He wasn't necessarily talking about my expectations of the camp. He wasn't even talking directly about me at all. He was talking about how dangerous it is for any of us to expect God to show up and honor what we do.

Too often, we can get to a point of almost demanding God to show up. But the truth is, we must stand in awe of who he is and praise his name, even when...scratch that...especially when we don't know what to expect.

Pace has a phenomenal way of challenging people not only to be better at what they do for God, but also to be better at recognizing the importance of honoring God through what they do.

When I left camp last week, yes, I had captured some great stories of life change. Sure, I had a chance to relax and play a little. But what I really walked away with was a reminder that I must honor God by what I do, not just expect him to show up and honor what I do.

Thanks for the reminder. I needed it.

Does it show?

2009-07-03T04:57:00.000-07:00

The other day Carissa had the boys write down three things they would do if they had nothing. See, we've been struggling, as every parent does, with a little bit of greed around our house. And when I saw those lists, it got me thinking. What would I do if I had nothing?

And as I thought about it, another question popped into my head (questions lead to questions in my mind). I know it was God asking me. "If you had nothing, would you still be thankful?"

That's a question that I think I know the answer to. I hope I do. I think I would still be thankful. Because after all, the best things in life are free, right? That means that they aren't things you can have; rather, they are things that are given to you, often unearned. Things like love and freedom and peace and friendships and hope.

But really. If I didn't have any thing, would I still be thankful? Or would I, in my egocentric kind of way, be ungrateful for what I don't have? It's a hard question to ask, and an even harder one to answer.

But as I sit here surrounded by all that God has blessed me with, material and otherwise, I think the real question isn't "What would I do if I had nothing?" The real question that God asks me everyday is, "Are you thankful for what you do have?" And that I am.

But again, that leads to another question. Does it show?

Books

2009-06-19T07:00:00.001-07:00

There's just something special about books. And I don't even care which books. Good books. Bad books. Thick books. Fiction or not. Books about people or the past or business management or dead athletes or corrupt politicians or extinct empires or farming or mountain climbing. There's something powerful that happens when I'm emmersed in the words and thoughts and paragraphs of other writers. Even the ones that aren't from writers. It's hard to explain, really.

There are times when I walk the aisles of a bookstore and almost become melancholy because there's not enough time to read them all. But at the same time I'm excited to discover new thoughts, study different perspectives or examine unique angles on old, familiar topics.

But there's one book that captures all of the emotions, desires, needs, cares, hopes and fears I can ever have. It's a collection of thoughts, perspectives, angles, words, sentences and paragraphs that is unmatched by any other book. It's the book that changes me every time I read it.

No other book gives me the hope and promise of life like this one. None of the characters and stories found on the shelves of a bookstore compare to those found in the pages of this book. And no book scares me as much. Because it's the book that shows me who I really am, and who I could become.

It's the book that equips me and challenges me and reminds me and defines me. And if you haven't read this book lately, I would challenge you to pick it up... again, or for the first time. Because it's written by the greatest author there could be. I'm pretty sure you know which one it is...

I'm not that old and you're not that fast...

2009-06-16T19:07:00.001-07:00

As kids, my friends and I were never deliberately bad. Sure, we roamed the neighborhood. But we didn't want to cause permanent damage to people's homes or property. We were just kids with not much on our minds. Of course, that doesn't mean we didn't do our fair share of toilet papering, egging and forking. (If you don't know what that is, then good. You shouldn't.) But I never really thought much of it. Until I owned my first house.

Now, I have become one of those people I remember running from as a kid. But there's a difference between me and all those "old people" from my childhood. And the difference was clearly evident this evening.

I had just finished cutting the grass and was about to close the garage when I saw two kids walking by my neighbor's house. They didn't see me. And more importantly, they didn't see me see them draw on my neighbor's mailbox with a Sharpie. That kind of stuff drives me nuts! After all, what homeowner wants their mailbox desicrated? (*Side note: Sigmund Freud would have a strong theory as to why these kids drew this certain object.)

So I whistled. And they stopped dead in their tracks ... at first. But as I walked up to them and talked to them about how they were going to knock on my neighbor's door and explain what they did, they took off down the street.

Now, that is completely understandable. I remember doing that. And I remember getting away every time (except for the time I ran head first into a tree at night. But that's another story.) So I'm sure these kids thought they would just run around the corner and everything would be fine. One problem for them, though. I took off too. And I caught up to them.

The look on their face said it all. "How in the world did this 'old man' catch us."

"You know what?" I said to them. "I'm not that old and you're not that fast."

And right now, they're busy cleaning the mailbox under the supervision of my neighbor.

You need to watch the road.

2009-06-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

It was quite a storm. Winds up to 80 mph. Downed trees and power outages everywhere. But in the middle of it, we were safe. Our entire family was over at Carissa's grandmother's house for dinner.

After the storm calmed down, it was time to go home. We had both vehicles (I had met them there after work), so on the way home, each of us took one of the boys. Carissa got Jackson. I got Parker.

You never know what you're going to get with Parker.

On the ride back we talked about how delicious the cake was. Pointed to the downed trees in the road. Shared stories about our day. And talked about how delicious the cake was (yeah, that was a popular topic). Then we saw it.

There was a truck completely upside down on the side of the highway. This wasn't one of those big semi trailers. It was more like a Uhaul type truck. And it was demolished. Nothing left but a charred frame and some broken glass. All that was at the scene by the time we arrived was one police cruiser.

As we passed, Parker asked, "Daddy, was someone driving that truck?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Then, after about 3 miuntes of complete silence, he said something that I didn't expect. Like I said, you never know what to expect with Parker. He said, "Daddy, I think tonight we should pray for that driver."

Wow! So we did. Right then and there, out loud, we prayed for God to protect and heal the driver of the truck and to help him feel the love God has for him. Knowing that my little man was genuinely concerned about someone he will never even meet is one of those moments that I will cherish forever. But in true Parker form, the moment wasn't over.

After we said, "Amen," we sat in silence for another minute or so. And then he said, "Daddy, when you prayed, were your eyes closed?"

"No."

"Good. Because you need to watch the road."

Beauty in the Sky

2009-06-02T18:21:00.000-07:00

I'm no professional photographer. But then again, with God providing the subjects, it doesn't take a professional to capture the beauty.

Socially Awkward

2009-06-01T18:14:00.000-07:00

We've all had those moments. It's responding with "You too," when the ticket agent tells you to have a good flight or the pizza delivery girl tells you to enjoy your pizza. Well, it happened to me today (again).

I went to Quizno's to grab a sandwich for lunch. And despite the slight language barrier between me and the guy making the sandwich, I ordered without any problems. Mesquite chicken, whole wheat bread, no tomatoes, extra cheese.

Then I got to the checkout. New guy there. And this time, the accent was almost too much. As I told him I'd like chips and a drink with my sandwich, he asked, "Do you want a sucker?"

Confused, I asked him to please repeat his question.

"Do you want a sucker?"

Yep, I thought, he asked if I wanted a sucker. "No, thank you." A completely normal, appropriate response to that question, right? After all, I did not want a sucker. But the look on his face didn't match the situation. He was confused; a little too confused. Maybe it's just him, I thought.

Then, as I got to the door, I realized what happened. It wasn't just him. He hadn't asked me if I wanted a sucker. See, I was wearing this shirt...

In case you don't know, that's a Juventus soccer club jersey. The guy didn't ask me if I want a sucker. He asked if I watch soccer! No wonder, "No, thank you," brought about the confusion on his part.

So often, that's the problem between the Church and the world. People are asking us (the Church) questions that they really need answers to. But we misunderstand and answer what we think they need to hear. We don't take the time to find out what they are really saying.

My prayer is that as I go through each day, God opens my eyes (and ears) to the real needs of people; and that I don't go around answering "No, thank you" to people who are asking me to introduce them to Jesus just because I didn't take the time to really hear them.

Thank You Doesn't Seem Like Enough

2009-05-25T06:37:00.000-07:00

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

2009-05-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

I don't normally enter a season of the year with a specific prayer. I think life is more fluid than that. But I am walking into this summer with a specific prayer in my heart and mind. My prayer is that God shows me the light at the end of the tunnel. Let me explain.

The light is a renewed, refreshed and refocused relationship with Jackson. The tunnel is the difficult times we've been having lately. Ok. Maybe that sounds a little harsh. It's not like we're estranged. We still play ball together, wrestle around and laugh at all the bathroom humor that is part of our family. He even asked me today when we could go down that bike path again together.

But there have been those times. You know. Those times. (Carissa says that we don't butt heads. She says we are buttheads.)

So this summer I'm praying for God to help me be the father Jackson needs, because the father he needs now isn't necessarily the father he's needed up to this point in his life. I'm praying that I can be the father who can continue to teach him discipline without being overbearing. The father who can be stern without being a jerk. The father he can turn to for anything at anytime and know that nothing will change my love for him.

Essentially, I'm praying that God uses me to show Jackson a little glimpse of Him. I guess it's really the same prayer I've had since the day he was born, when the light was all I could see.

And right now, he (Jackson, though I'm pretty sure God is there too) is in the living room playing a game with Carissa. And the laughter that is coming from that room is a reminder that he's still the sweet boy I've always known. He's still the one that I'm called to raise into manhood. And right now, God is showing me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

I'm Not a Fan of Jesus

2009-05-23T04:33:00.000-07:00

I was asked on Facebook the other day if I wanted to be a fan of Jesus. Now, normally, when stuff like that pops up, I just click 'ignore' and go on. I've been invited to stop global warming, abolish abortion, honor our fallen veterans, end hunger, protect marriage and even save the great British pub. As if by clicking a button on a mouse I will somehow help any of this.

No thanks. Move on. I want to make a real difference in a real life somehow, someway. (Or at least I want to check all my friends' updates without interruption!)

But when this one came up, 'Become a fan of Jesus,' I hesitated. For a split second I thought, "If I ignore this, am I ignoring Jesus? Conversely, if I click 'yes' then everyone who sees me on Facebook will know I'm a fan of Jesus. And isn't that the point anyway?"

Then I remembered something. Jesus doesn't need me to be a fan. He doesn't want me to be a fan. Fans change their loyalties. They stick with a team or a celebrity when things are good. But when things go south, they find something else to cheer for.

Another word for fan is supporter. Jesus doesn't need support. He's the Almighty! What he wants is devoted followers who are willing to walk behind him no matter what.

What I came to realize (or rather remember) is that my faith isn't based on something someone else says or suggests. It's based on Christ, not a group of his 'fans.' Not clicking that button doesn't lessen my faith or negate the reality that Christ lives in and through me each day.

So no, Facebook, I do not wish to become a fan of Jesus. Instead, I'll do my best to be a follower of Christ, obey his word and live out his love in my life. And hopefully, I'll make a real difference by being an example of what a relationship with Jesus can do.

I'm Letting My Son Fail

2009-05-12T07:33:00.000-07:00

Today, Carissa and I are letting Jackson fail, and it's one of the hardest things we've ever had to do.

See, this past year or so we've been working on teaching him responsiblity. But so far, not much has worked. Yes, I know he's a 9 year old boy and responsibility may be a foreign concept, right behind trigonometry and the combustible engine. But I believe God is calling us to at least start teaching those tough lessons now (as we have been for a few years). Because if I wait too long, nothing will work.

I've only been a parent for 9 years, but I've seen plenty of parents of older kids who waited way too long to actually be a parent, to teach those lessons. And I don't want to end up where they are. So today is one of those tough lessons. And it's all about schoolwork.

Now, if you know Jackson, that may sound a little shocking. Let me explain.

He's gotten phenomenal grades all year. He's aced spelling and reading tests, blown math quizzes out of the water and told the TAKS test right where to stick it. No. It's not the big things he has a problem with. It's the daily tasks.

So today, he's turning in not one, but two failing grades - on six-week long homework projects he should have aced. It's not that he hasn't done the work. It's that he hasn't recorded the work. There's a big difference. And the hardest part is letting it happen.

I want to rush in and save him. I want to sit down with him, do the work side-by-side, and show him what it means to be responsible in the daily tasks. But that's not going to do any good.

So we're going to let Jackson turn in those failing grades. We're going to stick with the consequences that we've set out (and trust me, they're pretty extreme). We're going to pray that he begins to finally see what we've been trying to teach him.

But most importantly, we're going to continue to trust God to lead us down the hardest path we've had to walk so far. And we're going to thank Him every day that we get to walk it.

Out of the Slump

2009-05-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

2 months. It's been exactly 2 months since I wrote anything here. I got to a point, in my mind, where everything cyber was taking up too much time, too much energy. So I went all self-righteious and stopped most of it. I quit Twitter and stopped blogging. (I apologize for the high and mighty attitude that accompanied my decision.)

See, I'd fallen into a kind of slump as far as writing and I thought going cyber-silent would do the trick to get me out of it. Maybe others couldn't see it. But I could. And I could certainly feel it.

If you're a writer (or just like writing), then you know what I'm talking about. There are seasons when I just plain don't feel like writing. But I realized something over the past few weeks.

The other day my pastor said to me, "Andy, you've been writing a lot lately." My response, "Yes sir. It's what God has called me to do." As those words came out of my mouth, it hit me.

I love writing. Sometimes it's good. Other times, eh. But I love to do it. It's what God has gifted me to do. So to stop using that gift in any way is to thumb my nose at what God wants me to do.

I don't want to do that. Ever. In any way. So I'm going to continue using this blog as an avenue to practice the thing God gifted me to do. I hope you continue to read it. But if not, that's okay too. Because honestly, this is for God. And I'm glad he's bringing me out of the slump.

We should all apologize to the Baby Jesus...

2009-03-07T05:27:00.000-08:00

I read an interesting article the other day titled, "An Apology from a Remorseful Atheist to the Baby Jesus." Basically, the guy was ranting about how much he hates religion, specifically Christianity, but that he's sorry for everything he'd every said bad about Jesus. Because really, according to this guy, Jesus wasn't a bad dude. It's the people who follow Jesus that he had a problem with. You know, Christians.

It got me thinking. In today's world, faith isn't a problem. People want to have faith in something. In fact, I would argue that most people would say faith is necessary to survive. And it's certainly necessary to live.

Faith isn't the problem. Religion is. Or rather, the stigma that comes with religion because of years of abuse, misuse and misunderstanding. I have people very close to me who are turned off because of religion, not because of faith.

But think about this for a while. Your faith isn't a stumbling block to anyone coming to Christ. But how often do you look at someone who doesn't have your faith and think, "I don't want to alienate so-and-so by talking about my faith"? When in reality, your faith may be the one thing that attracts them.

Don't be afraid to talk about Jesus, the Church, God or any other aspect of your faith under the guise of not wanting to turn someone off. Instead, use your faith in Christ and your love for his Church to blow the doors off of the stereotypes and show people that being a Christian isn't about following a religion. It's about having a relationship with the true Savior of the world.

Some Things are Worth the Fight

2009-02-28T05:14:00.000-08:00

Last night I planned on surprising Carissa with a date. I had arranged for babysitters, thought about what to do, changed plans at the last second and bought tickets to the symphony. I thought it would be a great way to end the week - relaxing, new, fun.

Carissa knew we had a date. She just didn't know what we were doing. All I told her was to dress up a bit. The babysitters would be here at 6, which would leave plenty of time to get something to eat and then find our seats before down beat (not sure that's what they call it in the symphony, but anyway...)

6:15 p.m. The phone rings. The babysitters were in a car wreck. My first thought, "Oh no! Are they ok?" Answer: yes. Whew.

Now my second thought, "Crap! How in the world are we going to find someone to watch the kids? We have to leave NOW if we're going to be on time!" (By the way, my pet peave is being late.)

So we start the frantic cell phone calls. Each call led to more and more stress on my part. Out of town. Sick kid. Not home. Voice mail. AHHH!

Then, the saviors. I love you, Nick and Alecia. They were willing (and able) to watch the boys. The only problem is, now it's 6:30 and they live 25 minutes away. But we thought, let's try it anyway. So we hop in the truck and head out.

Now, at some point in the drive, I'm literally thinking, "This isn't worth it. Besides, there's no way we'll make it!" (Oh, and at this point Carissa still doesn't know what we're doing.)

Yet, we still drive. And the longer we drive, the more stressed I'm getting. But I'm doing my very best to just shut my mouth, because I don't want to make this evening any worse than it is apparently becoming. Then I think, "Maybe I can call Will Call and have the tickets transferred to tomorrow night." No dice. No refunds. No transfers. Grrrr!

Then I tell Carissa what we're doing. But I also say, "It's not worth it. We aren't going to make it anyway," to which she responds, in the perfect pitch, tone and tenor that only my bride can have, "Andy, let's try anyway. Because I really want to do this."

It completely changed my perspective on the whole situation. And now, as I look back at last night and hear her in my mind again, I think, "Maybe some things are worth the fight." Because to make a long story...well, too late. But we made it. And by the time we actually found our seats, we had only missed part of the first number. Sure we were a little late. But we had a great time. Relaxing, enjoyable, new.

Whatever you are facing, remember something. You may just have to gain the right perspective. Step back from the emotion of the ordeal. And see that in the end, while you may miss a little bit of the first number, overall, some things are worth the fight.

Parker's Lists

2009-02-24T16:55:00.000-08:00

Conversation around the dinner table at our house can follow any number of paths. It can range from what happened at school that day to how hot the sun is to how bad the dog smells. Tonight's topic? Parker's "weeee list."

Now, I know what you're already thinking. And no. This isn't a list about the most exciting places to go #1. Although with two boys, God knows we have plenty of those conversations.

No, this is a list of names. More specifically, it's a list of Parker's "worst enemy enemy enemy enemies".

Every boy, I guess, has a list of enemies. I had one, though I never articulated it. Parker's list isn't long. In fact, there are only four names on it. But it's well thought out. If you ask him, he has very specific reasons for having these names on the list.

Three of the names don't really surprise me (although two are essentially the same person). The fourth name, however, caught me off guard. It's a name that many of you won't know. But if you do know her, you'll think, "What?!" just like I did. But again, if you ask him, there's a reason she made it onto the list. Apparently there was an incident on the playground.

So here they are. According to Parker, his "worst enemy enemy enemy enemies" are (in order):

1) The Devil
2) Satan
3) Gavin
4) Teagan

Now, if you are the parents of any of these people, I would like to point out that we did talk about God's command for us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (or kick at us on the playground). So hopefully, one day, the bottom two can move from the "weeee" list to the "f" "bf" or "bff" list. And yes, he has those all worked out in his mind too.

Ghetto Phones

2009-02-21T19:06:00.000-08:00

We have two landline phones in our house. One in the kitchen; one in our bedroom. And they used to both work. Emphasis on 'used to'. Now, the one in the kitchen can't dial out. If someone calls in; if the connection already exists, that's a different story. The other one (the phone in the bedroom) dials out, but you can't hear anything. Oh you can talk to the other person; but you can't hear them talking to you.

So if you actually want to make a phone call and talk to the person on the other end, you have to dial with the bedroom phone and then run to the kitchen phone. See? Ghetto phones.

It got me thinking. So often, that's a picture of my relationship with God. There are two kinds of "phone calls" I will have with him. And sadly, rather than using a fully functioning phone, I'll use one of my two ghetto phones.

When life is going great, I'll use the kitchen phone. It's like I don't even need to dial. The connection is already there. I simply pick it up and start having a conversation. And man, it would be so easy if all of life was this way. Just have God on stand by waiting to telling us clearly what we need to hear.

But it doesn't always work that way. There are times when I have to call him up. It's part of having relationship. It's true with God, just like it's true with people. I can't always expect someone to call me. As they say, the phone works two ways (if it's not ghetto).

With God, I'll come to a point where I know I need to call him. So I'll walk to the bedroom, pick up the phone and dial. But then, I'll just start talking. And I get so busy talking and telling him what I think he needs to hear that I can't hear what he is saying back to me.

But then I remember something like the passage my pastor preached on just a few weeks ago. 1 Kings 19:10-12. Go read it. Basically, this is a fully functioning phone. Elijah had just gone off, telling God all of his "problems." And then, God spoke back. And Elijah must have had to take a breath or something, because he actually heard what God said.

You see, if I'm going to make it through life, I can't rely on a ghetto phone. I do that too often. Yes, there are times that I can unleash all my frustration and emotion on God. But there comes a point where I have to shut up and listen. Because so often God will be in that still small voice, telling me about his plan, his love, his forgiveness. And only by having a fully functioning phone, a fully functioning relationship with him, will I be able to actually hear him.

New Site; Same Blog

2009-02-14T15:04:00.001-08:00

I'm moving my blog from wordpress to blogspot. Why? Several reasons. Ease. Reliability. Maybe I like the colors more here. Whatever the reason, this is going to be the new one. So I hope you follow me here and continue to pick up what I put down.

If not, and you check in on the old one, you'll probably get pretty bored reading the same post over and over. But if you're into that sort of thing...

Following Todd Through Unfamiliar Waters

2009-02-14T15:03:00.001-08:00

Todd Hamilton, Jimmy's best friend, is starting a blog called "Unfamiliar Waters". I can't think of a better person to give us insight on lessons that Jimmy taught through his example, his words, his life.

Jimmy's legacy will continue to live on in so many ways. This will be one of the best and most personal. Whether you knew Jimmy or not, follow Todd into the unfamiliar waters ahead and learn some great lessons about faith, family and friendship (and probably fishing).

A Reminder in the Valley

2009-02-14T15:00:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 2/12/2009)

Yesterday was a great day! We all celebrated the life of our friend Jimmy York. And for those of us who heard it, Todd's eulogy for Jimmy was absolutely perfect. I don't know exactly how hard that was for him, but I know it was the hardest thing he's had to do. But God used him during that message, and it spoke volumes about Jimmy. I am so proud of the job Todd did in remembering his friend. What an honor to hear it!

Yesterday was also a very crappy day. Because for many, it marked the beginning of a life without a friend who meant so much to each of us. That beginning actually occured Saturday night. But yesterday, it became real for a lot of people.

Yes, Jimmy is home in heaven. Yes, we can have joy in knowing that he is on that mountaintop. But now, there is going to be a valley for us. For some, that valley is going to be easily traversed. For others, that valley is going to be deep and dark.

For Tricia, Braxton, Auston, Jimmy's parents and family; for Todd and Trena, Jeff and Ginger, Steve and Kim, Wayne and Jill, Mark and Libba, Carissa and me, Ray and Jazen; for Josh, Dan, Justin, Tianne, Sara, Kara, Mark, Deana, Carlotta, Terry and the entire Fellowship family; and for countless, countless others - the valley is going to be rough.

But I want to encourage all of you to continue looking up, even in the midst of the shadows; especailly in the midst of those shadows. That's not something that I think you need to be told. But a reminder can't hurt. Because each of us will greive in our own way, in our own time. Maybe you've gotten to the point of beginning that process for yourself. But as you face each day in this new life, trust that God will lead you. Because, as the Scriptures say:

He restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me... (Psalm 23:3-4).

Jimmy and Todd

2009-02-14T14:59:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 2/8/2009)

I was supposed to go hunting today with Todd. The day was going to hopefully end with a cooler full of meat and some good memories of a nice hunt. Instead, I'm ending this day praying hard for Todd. Because last night, Jimmy died.

Maybe you know the story. Maybe you don't. But Jimmy and Todd were great friends. They worked together, ministered together, fished together, and (if there had been indoor plumbing at Todd's lease), they might have ended up hunting together. Though Jimmy probably would have just shown up to tell jokes more than actually hunt.

I can't put into words what this feels like tonight. Jimmy and Todd. To me, you don't get one without the other. They were together when I met them over 6 years ago. They were together when they took the chance to hire Carissa over 4 years ago. They were together when they led. Together when they laughed and joked. They were always together. Even when job responsibilities changed, they made the time to be together. They were the picture perfect definition of close friends.

And now, Jimmy's gone.

Although, Todd would be the first to tell you that Jimmy isn't gone. He's home. It's a shocking statement to say about someone who was just 33. And for the first time, as I write this, the tears are flowing. I guess I've been in shock. But I cry, not for Jimmy. He's better off than any of us. I cry for his wife, Tricia, and his two sons, Braxton and Auston. Of course. But I also cry for Todd and the many, many people who had a relationship with Jimmy that was just as special.

Jimmy was one of the most generous, caring people I've ever known. He was willing to open up and share anything with anyone. He was a great leader. A great man. A great example of what a deep, personal, intimate relationship with Jesus can do.

Jimmy will be missed. By Todd and so many others. But there's no doubt about it. The friendships that he left behind will continue to shine light on a dark world. And Jimmy's influence will continue to resonate through Fellowship Church and every single life he touched.

And although there won't be any more Jimmy and Todd together on earth, there's a special fishing hole in heaven waiting for Todd. And I bet Jimmy's got a line in the water already.

How to Hit Homeruns

2009-02-14T14:56:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 1/29/2009)

A lot of people don't know this, but my grandfather gave me Babe Ruth's autograph when I was 12 years old. It was the single greatest gift I've ever been given - for obvious reasons and not-so-obvious reasons.

Yes, possessing one of the sport's world's most coveted authographs is amazing. There are times that I just stare at it in sheer disbelief. But there's more to it. When I got that autograph, I began a love affair with the New York Yankees and Babe Ruth - a love affair that continues to this day. I know, I know. You either love 'em or hate 'em. And I love 'em.

Because of that, I've read countless books and articles on both the Yankees and Babe Ruth. And in all the reading on Babe Ruth, one thing seemed to come up more than anything else. People, reporters, fans everywhere wanted to know his secret to hitting homeruns. They asked him about it all the time. This is one of his answers:

"I swing as hard as I can, and I try to swing right through the ball. The harder you grip the bat, the more you can swing it through the ball, and the farther the ball will go. I swing big, with everything I've got. I hit big or I miss big. I like to live as big as I can."

I've thought about that answer before. But I never really connected the dots with why that answer meant so much to me. But as I reflect on that statement now, it makes me think of another statement spoken many years ago. Only this statement is more than an answer to the secret of hitting homeruns. It's the secret to living "as big as I can."

Jesus said in John 10:10, "I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly."

You want to live big? You want to hit homeruns every day? Then hold on with faith to Christ as hard as you can. And let him do the swinging for you.

Living. Together.

2009-02-14T14:55:00.002-08:00

(Originally posted 1/28/2009)

I thought a quick game of friendly checkers before bed tonight would help. After all, we've hit a rough patch lately. Jackson and me that is. And tonight, the game was going really well. He was doing better than he's ever done before.

But in his eyes, getting better wasn't enough. He could only focus on the fact that, at one point during the game, he "could only move back and forth to one spot, Dad!"

Reminding him that the point of the game is to stay alive didn't help. In fact, that only added fuel to the fire. Because to him, staying alive is boring. There's more to the game than jumping back and forth between one spot. And that's when it hit me.

My son is just like me. To him, it's not enough to just stay alive.

Of course, that's something I knew about him. After all, I've had almost nine years with the kid. I'm pretty sure I know him by now. But the more I get to know him, the more I get to know myself. And maybe, just maybe, that's what is getting in the way of him and me lately. We've just been staying alive lately. So I think it's time that he and I start really living. Together.

I Have a Dream

2009-02-14T14:55:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 1/20/2009)

Jackson's class has been studying Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his dream. (*side note. Does it drive anyone else crazy when someone calls him Martin Luther King?) Anyway. The kids were given the assignment of writing a letter to their teacher talking about their own dreams.

And then, the teacher assigned the parents the greatest assignment I've ever been given as a parent. We were tasked with writing a letter to our children about our dreams for them.

So Carissa and I, late last night, sat down to write a letter to our oldest son explaining our dreams for his future. It was something that I thought wouldn't mean much, really. After all, this was just a school assignment, right? Wrong.

As we wrote the letter, all of the (for lack of a better word) crap that goes along with being the parent of an 8 year old boy disappeared. I wasn't concerned about the attitude, the eye rolls, the sarcasm. All I was concerned with was Jackson's future, and where I hope...no, scratch that. Where I know he can go and what he can accomplish.

As we wrote the letter, I was reminded of my call as a father, my responsiblity as a parent. And it made me reflect on my heavenly Father's role as the dreamer in my life.

God puts up with a lot of (for lack of a better word) crap from me. But He never, ever stops dreaming for me. I hope the same goes for me. I hope I never stop dreaming for Jackson. And I pray he never stops dreaming for himself.

Think It Doesn't Matter? Think Again.

2009-02-14T14:53:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 1/14/2009)

If you don't think one simple act of kindness and faith matters, check out this video.
You never know what God will use to reach even the person furthest away from Him!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JHS8adO3hM&hl=en&fs=1]

Laughing at God

2009-02-14T14:52:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 1/13/2009)

Genesis 17:17 - "Abraham fell facedown; he laughed...."

Sometimes God says or does or promises something that to us seems so completely ridiculous and impossible that the only response we have is to laugh. It's not a mocking laugh. It's not an insulting laugh. It's not a laugh of unbelief or skepticism. It's a laugh of sheer amazement.

Nothing is impossible with God. And right now, that is such an encouragement to me. Nothing is impossible with God. So when God says He can or will do something, I can believe that it can or will be done. And just because I may not understand it doesn't mean it won't happen. Instead of scoffing or mocking Him, I can trust Him at His word. And the only response I may have is to fall down at His feet in awe and laugh in complete amazement.

When's the last time you laughed at God?

Split Second Living

2009-02-14T14:51:00.002-08:00

(Originally posted 1/7/2009)

I've heard that when someone is faced with impending danger, their life can flash before their eyes. In a split second. But how is it that an entire lifetime can be seen in a single second? Perhaps it's because all of life is lived in a split second. Not to say that a lifetime is lived in a single second. But every life is punctuated by split second moments of really living.

It's the living moments of life that come and go in the blink of an eye. And the reverberations from those moments are felt for a lifetime, and often beyond. To the uninterested party, those moments mean very little - until those moments happen to them.

Most of these split second moments are highlighted by a phrase, a string of just a few words that alone wouldn't have near the significance that they have together. They are the phrases that forever change the course of our lives, the phrases that echo in the canyon of existence and change the balance of who we are, where we're headed, and what we truly live for.

In my life, there have only been a few of those moments and phrases that truly stick out in my mind. And my life hasn't flashed before my eyes. But there are moments that God has allowed to happen in order to reveal much of who He is in my life and uncover many of the gifts that He has blessed me with. Now, these aren't necessarily in order of importance of occurence. But they are the moments that I thank God for. I hope they make you think of your own split second life...

"I do." (this one only happened once.)
"I love you." (this happens every day.)
"It's a boy." (this one happened twice!)
"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." (again, only once.)
"She'll be fine." (this one is being reinforced by God every moment and through every prayer right now.)
"If you need anything, let me know." (thank you to all of you for repeating this one in my life...)

www.iamsecond.com - Are You?

2009-02-14T14:51:00.001-08:00

So I stumbled across this website. I saw a billboard for it, but forgot about it until this morning. Then, as I went through the testimonies, I was shocked and happy to see these two. Check them out. And tell me you don't root for these guys! And then, check out some of the other testmonies. And share them with people you know...

http://www.iamsecond.com/#/seconds/Greg_Ellis/

http://www.iamsecond.com/#/seconds/Josh_Hamilton/

Top 10 Favorite Christmas Movies

2009-02-14T14:50:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 12/16/2008)

It's that time of year: time for the Christmas classics to be played over and over on the tube. In that spirit, here's a list of my favorite Christmastime movies, new and old. This isn't necessarily in order (other than #1). Just movies I hope to catch over the next few weeks:

1. A Christmas Story
2. Elf
3. Home Alone
4. A Wonderful Life
5. A Charlie Brown Christmas
6. A Christmas Carol
7. The Polar Express
8. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
9. Frosty the Snowman
10. A Christmas Story (Yeah, I know I put that twice. But it's totally worth it!)

A True Know-It-All

2009-02-14T14:49:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 12/6/2008)

My son Jackson is 8 years old. And he knows everything. At least, that's how it is in his own mind. But more than an average of once a day, I find myself reminding him that he does not, indeed, know everything. Yet, he continues to tell Carissa and me (and Parker) how the world works.

Sometimes, he's right. Sometimes, he's not. But it's not so much the fact that he thinks he knows everything. I want him to be confident in his knowledge. I want him to think he can know anything, that he can learn anything, that he can do anything. What gets to me is the prideful attitude that often accompanies that knowledge.

And as I look at him now, I finally understand the frustration my dad had when I was 8 (and 9, and 10, and 11, and...). And to a very, very small degree, I think I understand the frustration that God must feel every day with every one of us.

But here's the deal that I have to remind myself (not just my 8 year old son). No matter where I am in life; no matter how much life experience I have, I don't know it all. None of us does. We don't have the slightest clue.

Yet, at least in my own life, I think I know. I think I know what's best for me. I think I know how to please God (as if pleasing God was some noble pursuit that could earn me points with him). I think I know where I need to be and what I need to do.

But if I were completely honest, the only things I know are those things God has shown me. Some of that knowledge comes from life experience - through relationships and successes and failures. Some of that knowledge comes from learning - through reading and studying and observing. But ALL of that knowledge is only possible through God - through the opportunities that he gives me and what he shows me.

So as I go through life, I don't want to act like a know-it-all. Instead, I want to remain thankful for the knowledge God gives me. Because there isn't a know-it-all in the world (not even one who's 8 years old) that can give me what God can.

Where I Need to Be

2009-02-14T14:47:00.002-08:00

(Originally posted 12/2/2008)

I worry. It's just something I do. I worry about my family. I worry about my friends. I worry about my job. I worry about money. But I don't think I'm the only one. And today, when "they" "officially" announced that the country is in a recession, worry once again came knocking at the door.

What if I lose my job?
What if we have to sell our house?
What if I can't provide for my family?
What if...
What if...
What if...
(I hate those kind of what ifs.)

But then I picked up the Bible - the best place to turn in any situation, especially when I worry. And the first thing I read was Psalm 135:15-21. I've been reading the Psalms lately, mostly because I find comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one who feels what I feel. I need to know that. And God knows I need to know it.

He knows when I worry. He knows why I worry. And he knows exactly what I need to hear when I do. And so he reminded me this morning of something. The energy I use when I worry is wasted energy. It does little...no. That's not right. It does no good.

What I need to do is refocus that energy on praising God. Because only he can help me overcome my fear. Worry leads only to more worry. Praising God, however, leads to trust. Which leads to hope. Which leads me away from worry and back home, to him. Which is exactly where I need to be.

All Day, Baby! All Day...

2009-02-14T14:47:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 11/16/2008)

You hear about this kind of thing. You never really witness it yourself. Well, almost never. We have. Twice. Once was during basketball season, which I'll have to fill you in on at some later date. And I would have written about this latest episode sooner, but it took a while to wrap my brain around it.

We were leaving one of Jackson's baseball practices, which were held at a park that also hosts Pop Warner football. On this particular day, there was a game on one of those fields. And as we walked past it, we saw one of the teams score a touchdown. It was a "long" run play (maybe 15 or 20 yards at most). And the parents celebrated. Great.

But then, what we heard after the general celebration rivaled even the most boisterous and fanatical of college football celebrations on ESPN. I don't remember which teams were playing. It doesn't really matter. Because the kids are maybe 10 years old. But all of a sudden, as this kid crossed the goal line, the sideline erupted. Literally.

Now, I'm all for celebrating the successes of our children. Heck, I cheered louder than anyone each time Jackson had a hit this season. But there comes a point... a tipping point... when the celebration becomes, shall I say, a little much.

That tipping point may vary as kids get older and the level of competition increases. But I'd definitely have to say it's gone overboard at this age when the celebration erupts into a cacophony of yells, high-fives, bullhorn sirens and chest bumps (oh, yeah... chest bumps).

But the icing on the cake was what I heard shouted from (I'm assuming) one of the coaches as he glared across the field at his opposition. After bumping chests with another full grown man, this man, who may well have been the kid's father, yelled at the top of his lungs, "All day, baby! All day!" (Picture this complete with a red face and veins popping out of his neck.)

Now, maybe it's just me. But when did pee-wee leagues become acceptable platforms on which to display the most idiotic behavior on the part of parents? But more importantly, how in the world can anyone expect kids to display good sportsmanship if the people raising those kids can't even hold it together themselves?!

Amazing Sex!

2009-02-14T14:46:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 11/13/2008)

The press coverage for Ed Young's 7 Days of Sex challenge has been amazing. But it doesn't compare with the work God will do in so many marriages!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPOhQ-nHNfI&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b]

No Greater Love

2009-02-14T14:43:00.002-08:00

(Originally posted 11/10/2008)

It's been more than 10 years since I was in the Marine Corps. And since that time, a lot of people have asked me a lot of questions about it. And they usually ask the typical questions. "What did you do? Where did you live? Did you travel? Was it difficult? Would you do it again? Do you keep in touch with the guys you knew? Did you get any tattoos? Is that where you met Carissa?"

But the question people rarely ask, if ever, is, "What's the most valuable lesson you learned from your time in the Corps?"

I think most people expect Marines to learn things like how to shoot a fully automatic machine gun, hike a million miles, eat crappy food in thirty seconds or less, shave your head and salute officers. And while they look at the guys in the picture above proudly, they don't have a full understanding of what's under the uniform.

I think it comes down to the fact that while most people can recognize the aspects of the Corps, they so often miss the essence of the Corps. And that's fine. It's difficult to appreciate all that is involved in something you haven't done or been yourself. But I want to try to answer the question so you can have a deeper understanding and appreciation the next time you see a Marine in uniform at the airport coming home from war...or headed to war.

What I learned (besides how to shoot a fully automatic machine gun, hike a million miles, eat crappy food in thirty seconds or less, shave my head and salute officers) is that there still exists such a thing as selfless love and devotion for country.

If you listen to the media, you'll hear how our country is tired of fighting "other people's" wars. If you read what the "experts" have to say, you may convince yourself that the best thing to do is pull the troops out of harm's way now. But if you ask the men and women serving, I'm convinced that you would get a very different picture.

See, every person in the Corps wakes up each day, whether they are in a war zone or not, ready to fight and die if needed for their friends and their country. Sure, they quarrel amongst themselves. What family doesn't? Sure, they may complain about what they're doing while they're doing it. You would too if you lived in the desert without seeing your family for months at a time.

But when it comes down to it, every Marine is there, willing to lay down his life for someone else in order to serve the greater good. And I'm pretty sure there's no greater love than that (John 15:13).

A Change in Perspective

2009-02-14T14:43:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 11/4/2008)

I took a walk today down a trail that I've walked and run hundreds of times. It's a beautiful, 3/4 of a mile path around the lake at church that winds through trees and bushes and disguises the reality that I'm in the middle of one of the country's largest metropolitan areas.

I've been on that trail so often that I know what's coming. I remember what's around each corner. I know what to expect. But as I walked around the first bend today, I began to see it differently than I ever had before.

I don't know if it's because I walked slower or because the leaves were falling or because the light in the atmosphere was a different hue than usual. But whatever it was, something suddenly became clear.

All of a sudden I wasn't just seeing a gravel path. What I was seeing was a picture of life.

This wasn't some weird, mystical experience that gave me a new take on the direction or meaning of my life. But it was a moment in which God revealed, or rather reminded me of something.

Life is all about perspective.

See, a lot of the time, I know what to expect in life. After doing the same things day in and day out, everything becomes routine. The danger in that, though, is that the routine can become monotonous. And when that happens, life loses it's excitement.

But that's the exact opposite of what I've been striving for over the past 2 years. See, I want to make every day life an adventure. And the first step is getting back to seeing things differently, from God's eyes.

No Matter Who Wins

2009-02-14T14:42:00.000-08:00

(Origianlly posted 11/3/2009)

I have to get this out there. I'm tired of all the Eddie Vedders, Robert Redfords, Rush Limbaughs, Bill O'Reillys, Bill Mahers, Jane Fondas, Barbara Streisands and all the others out there who are ripping this country apart. And I'm especially sick of the ones who threaten to leave the country if a certain candidate wins.

You're going to leave the country that made you filthy rich because a certain politician may be put in place? Really? Well, so far, none of them have fulfilled their promises from four years ago to leave. Guess they saw the light...or at least they saw another check arrive at their American address. I'm sorry. But it's ridiculous. I wonder:

What hope does our country have of getting back on track after the election if we continue to completely derail one another before the election?

We have different political parties in this country for a reason. And that reason is not to rip apart or degrade some other group of people because they don't have the same opinion as we do. It's not to point fingers and blame the other. It's not to threaten to move if we don't get our way. (How much does that sound like the behavior of a two year old?) And it's not to instill fear about what might happen if....

What it comes down to is this. We're choosing between two men who have different experiences, different qualifications, different backgrounds and different opinions on how to best run the country. And the one who identifies with the most people wins. Period.

But here's the rub. What if your candidate doesn't win? Where are you going to put your trust then? Are you going to throw up your hands and scream that the world is coming to an end (which, if you're a Christian, will be a good thing anyway).

Or are you going to continue to put your faith in the fact that God's truth will not ever change, no matter who wins tomorrow.

A Growing Trend

2009-02-14T14:41:00.002-08:00

(Originally posted 10/31/2008)

We've been taking the boys to the pumpkin patch since they were tiny. And we did all the typical stuff when they were little:

Sat them on top of a pile of pumpkins;
sat them in our laps while we sat on a pile of pumpkins.

Sat them on top of a pile of hay;
sat them on our laps while we sat on top of a pile of hay.

Sat them on a tractor;
sat them on our laps while we sat on the tractor.

Notice a trend? Well, that trend is over in our family.

This year, the only reason we went to the pumpkin patch was because of the corn maze. See, we tried to go last year, but we didn't have any cash on us. And we didn't realize that they charge you $5 a pop to walk through their torn up corn field (yeah, yeah, we should've known).

Well, this year, we showed up with cash in hand. And I have to say, the corn maze wasn't half bad. Not sure it was worth $20, but the kids had fun. At least in the maze.

But when we got out of the maze, that's when Carissa and I realized it. We aren't the typical family at that place anymore. Our kids were bigger than most there. And they got bored quickly.

Of the 28 photo op spots (yes, I counted), exactly one was of any interest to the boys - the actual tractor. At least that was the case until we started letting them jump off of the photo op spots. And sadly, I'm pretty sure that's losing its allure quickly.

So I started thinking: does this mean next year it's a haunted house instead of the pumpkin patch? Guess we'll see...

What Do You Expect?

2009-02-14T14:41:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 10/30/2008)

Think about the millions of expectations that come with living. When we're children, we're expected to sit quietly, do our work, mind our manners and not pick our noses (at least not in public).

When we're teenagers, we're expected to follow the rules, listen to those who are wiser than we are, hold our tongues and (at least try to) make it home by curfew. And on the other hand, the unspoken expectation is that we'll rebel.

When we're young adults, we're expected to decide our life's destination, follow the standard protocol for reaching that goal and not speed or let the grass get too tall in the front yard.

And as we get older, we're expected to have learned from life and pass those lessons on to others, even though they probably won't listen because they know so much more than we did at that age.

I was thinking about all those expectations. And I boiled it down to this. The goal of all of those is for us to blend in. We're expected to be one of the crowd. Somewhere, somehow, we become convinced that we must meet everyone else's expectations in order to make it through life. Becuase if we don't, we just might stick out. And when we stick out, we run the risk of too many terrible things. Things we don't dare subject ourselves to. Things like being made fun of, being talked about, and actually being ... noticed.

But as I think about all the expectations that I've met in my life, and even those I haven't, I wonder: how much of my life is the sum total of expectations of other people?

I don't want to live based on other people's expectations. Because when I do, sure, I fit in. But I also lose who I'm designed to be. And then others dictate where I go, what I do, how I live. I don't want to live that way.

I want to live based on God's expectations, because he doesn't have the same expectations for me that others have. Oh, sure, he expects me to grow and learn and be responsible and not speed and pay my taxes and not pick my nose (in public at least).

But I think his biggest expectation for me is that I look to him first. Not second. Not forty-fourth. And certainly not last. So every day, I want to start off not looking to the expectations of others. I want to look to God and ask him, "What do you expect?"

It May Be Little League, But...

2009-02-14T14:39:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/29/2008)

Jackson's first season of Little League baseball is winding down. We (as if I played) were 7-1-1 during the "regular" season and are 1-0 in the playoffs so far. We won last night 11-1.

Throughout this season, I've kept up with Jackson's stats at the plate. (For the record, he's 10 for 20 with 3 homeruns, two of which were legit). Maybe I took it a little too far. But the kid's good; I just wanted to track how good.

Now I don't have delusions of him starting one day at center field for the Yankees or anything (maybe the Rangers, but not the Yankees). But this is a sport that just seems to come naturally to him. And he enjoys it.

But last night, as I watched him step up to bat in the 2nd inning, something dawned on me. I saw something more than a kid enjoying a game. As he walked up to the batter's box, all of a sudden, my little boy wasn't so little anymore. He stood there at the plate, eyes focused on the ball, and he swung the bat. Hard. This wasn't the swing of a little kid hoping against hope to hit the ball. This was a swing of a boy who's becoming something...bigger.

Yes, there are many times that he still resembles that little boy who used to say, "Moot me, Nootney" rather than, "Excuse me, Courtney." Yes, there are still many times that the immaturity rings loud and true through the hallway.

But last night, as he focused on that ball, I saw a glimpse of a strong, determined, focused, driven young... man, I can't believe I'm saying this... man.

32 Things

2009-02-14T14:38:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/28/2008)

1. I love dogs.
2. I once got hit in the nose by a baseball.
3. I've been shaving my head for 12 1/2 years.
4. I want to climb Mt. Rainier and Denali in the next 3-5 years.
5. I once met a man who was literally left for dead on Mt. Everest.
6. I like hip-hop music.
7. I once did a break dancing skit for a talent show with my best friend (we were 10).
8. My favorite moment in the day is the moment my wife hugs me.
9. I'm eating a turkey sandwich.
10. I love cutting the grass (a little too much.)
11. I have 9 first cousins and 4 second cousins.
12. I once owned a motorcycle. A Kawasaki Ninja.
13. I used to wrorry that my knees were knobby.
14. I love Mountain Dew.
15. I want to make a difference.
16. I once hit my brother in the face with a rock (it was an accident).
17. I want my kids to have more than I did.
18. I was baptized on 1/20/02 (with my wife).
19. I want to live in the Northwest.
20. I have 5 tattoos.
21. I played the piano for 10 years.
22. My parents are divorced.
23. I'm SCUBA certified (though it's expired).
24. I want to learn to play the guitar.
25. Sometimes I wish I had hair.
26. I collect journals.
27. I probably have typos in this list.
28. I never played organized football.
29. I'm writing a class on Acts.
30. I run the Turkey Trot each year with my dad.
31. If I was stranded on an island and could only have one thing, it would be a fully charged satellite phone.
32. I'm done eating the turkey sandwich, which means it's time to get back to work.

Base

2009-02-14T14:37:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 10/28/2008)

You think you've found the perfect spot. And while you're there, your heart starts racing, your breath quickens and your eyes bug out, straining to see in the dark. Then you hear the words.

"...8...9...10. Ready or not, here I come!"

But you've found the perfect spot to hide; no need to worry. After all, no one would EVER think to look inside your closet (or under your covers, or behind the bathtub curtain, or...). You're safe.

But then they open the door (or pull back the covers or tear open the curtain). And that's when it begins. The race back to base.

Anyone who's played hide 'n' seek knows the value of base. It's a place of security, assurance, safety.

I was reading Ecclesiastes this morning. (how's that for a transition?) And 35 times in that book, Solomon uses the word "meaningless." According to Solomon, everything is meaningless. In other words, it doesn't matter where we hide.

And then, in the middle of his rant about how meaningless everything is, he writes, "...everything God does will endure forever..." (Ecc. 3:14).

I think what Solomon was saying is that God is base. And without that base, there is no security. There is no assurance. There is no safety. There is no point.

If God is not my base, I end up living every day with my heart pounding out of fear, my breath shortened by anxiety and my eyes bugging out, straining to see any hint of light in a dark world.

But I'm thankful, because I have been found. Christ has opened the door, pulled back the covers and torn open the curtain. And although he's had to chase me around corners and down halls sometimes, he's delivered me back to base. And I've discovered security, assurance, safety, and a point. And the point isn't me.

It's God.

Base

2009-02-14T14:37:00.000-08:00

Am I Crazy?

2009-02-14T14:36:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/27/2008)

Mowing the grass. It's one of the simple things in my life that brings with it a sense of joy. Well, I just got done mowing the grass. But I think I may have taken it a step too far tonight.

See, to mow the grass, I have to get the mower out of the garage. To do that, I have to pull the car out of the garage. And rather than pull the car back into the garage while I cut the grass just to pull back out to put the mower away, I leave the car out.

Oh, I forgot to mention that one of the things I like most is seeing the fresh cut lawn as I pull up after work at the end of the day. But, I wasn't at work just now. I was mowing the grass. So...

After putting the mower back in its spot inside the (ahem...newly cleaned) garage, I wanted to drive by and see the lawn. So yes, I actually got in the car and drove around the block, just so I could drive by the house and see the fresh cut grass.

Am I crazy?

Don't Vote Until You Watch This

2009-02-14T14:35:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/23/2008)

Politicked - Rock the Vote from Fellowship Church on Vimeo.

This is a powerful message from Ed Young this past weekend. And it's a message we all as voters desperately need to hear... and heed!

Toys 'R Us Kid

2009-02-14T14:29:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/22/2008)

I don't want to grow up, I'm a Toys 'R Us kid. There's a million toys at Toys 'R Us that I can play with. From bikes to trains to video games, it's the biggest toy store there is. I don't want to grow up, 'cause baby, if I did, I couldn't be a Toys 'R Us kid. (you know you want to sing it again ... go ahead!)

Now that you've sung it again (and it's in your head right now), you'll be singing it all day. For that, I apologize. But I really think that song fits my mentality right now. It's not necessarily the bikes or trains or video games. Ok, maybe it's the video games a little. But there's something about being a kid that is just ... electrifying and intoxicating. Think about it.

As children, we assume greatness is within our grasp. You see it on every little league field and dance studio. Every child dreams of becoming something bigger than themselves.

THAT'S what I miss about being a kid. Because somewhere along life's journey, we begin aquiescing toward mediocrity. We stop striving to become something bigger than ourselves. Sad, but true.

I never want to stop wanting to be something bigger. And I pray every day that God uses me for something bigger than myself. I want that for myself. I want that for my wife. I want that for my children.

I don't want to grow up, 'cause baby, if I did, I'd stop striving to be more than just a Toys 'R Us kid.

My Vote

2009-02-14T14:27:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/21/2008)

It's no secret who I'm voting for. But over the past several weeks, I've really begun to ask why - something I think is vital for everyone to ask and answer. And as I've looked into why I'm voting for McCain, several reasons have come to mind.

Now, I know he's not perfect. But short of Jesus, no one is. And yes, there are things I disagree with McCain about. But no candidate is going to agree with me 100% of the time - not even if I ran (I'd disagree with myself sometimes).

So I've made my decision. It's based on the following thoughts and statements...things that have come to me through different venues and at different times and in different ways over the last few weeks.

1) I don't believe the media. This goes for both sides of of the dividing party line. I'm not going to base my vote on what Katie Courick (sp?), Rush Limbaugh, David Letterman or any other celebrity in the media says. Think about it. They get paid to sensationalize the stories. It's sad; but it's true. And I just plain don't believe them.

2) Our next Commander-in-Cheif absolutely has the obligation to be as strong as the people he sends out to die. This person will be the leader of a war, whether you like it or not. Troops will not be rushed off the front lines and back home in droves on November 5th. They'll still be in harm's way. And they need someone who has the guts to defend them and support them, not pull the rug out from under them.

3) I value life - even the unborn. This article is a little slanted, I admit. However, what you can't shrug off as slanted are Obama's own words. Read it and see for yourself. I don't vote on one issue alone. But this is a pretty big one.

Those are just three reasons. There are more. But consider those things. And then decide. Don't decide and then contemplate. Because then you'll end up like these people. Don't be them.

"Oh, by the way..."

2009-02-14T14:26:00.000-08:00

(Originally posted 10/21/2008)

So you have to understand an occurence in our house to really get where this one goes...or comes from. Parker, our youngest, is six. He's about 3 feet tall and maybe 35 pounds, soaking wet. But despite his small stature, one of his greatest pleasures in life is something that doesn't happen for people twice his size. Regularly (I'm talking multiple times a week), he, um, clogs up the toilet. It brings with it humor, an eye roll (on my part) and a massive smile from his little face. Maybe we need to buy an industrial strength toilet. I'm not sure. Anyway, I digress.

So we're all talking around the dinner table tonight. Nothing unusual. And I mention the fact that I've restarted my blog. So of course, that sparks interest. "Daddy, I want to see your blog." Ok. Oh, by the way, the first entry is humorously titled "#2". "Can you read it to us?" Sure. So I read it.

Then the jokes begin. The #2 jokes. You know the kind. The kind that aren't appropriate at the table, but are still really funny in a 3rd grade sort of way.

And that's when I hear it. It's the line that I'm rather used to hearing. It's from my lovely wife. The beautiful woman in the house who puts up with a lot with three males. It's a line that doesn't even need to be completed anymore, because I know how it ends. It's a line that I almost expect to hear every day when I walk through the door. It's a line that makes Parker smile and one that sends me straight down the hall to perform yet another job that no man should do as much as I have (unless his name is Joe).

"Oh, by the way...Parker clogged the toilet again."

I should have known when I entered the first blog today that this was going to happen. It had to.
And thus, you now have the first poo story of blog #2 (no pun intended).

#2

2009-02-14T14:25:00.001-08:00

(Originally posted 10/2/2008)

So here it is. Blog #2. Not that it's poo. It's just the second run at my blog. Stay tuned for more posts about life, faith, marriage, parenthood, adventure and what it's like to be the father of 2 boys (which means there will actually be some posts about poo...)