3/18/10
3/4/10
It Really Does Matter
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.
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.
2/6/10
Deadly Serious
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.
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.
2/3/10
Creative Consequences
(*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.
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.
- 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.
Do not withhold discipline from a child... Proverbs 23:13
1/25/10
When the sun rises again
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.
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.
12/10/09
A Different Kind of Christmas Poem
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."
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."
11/17/09
Skeptic? I doubt it.
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.
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.
11/16/09
10/29/09
Blank Pages, New Words
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.
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.
10/14/09
Facebook Brought My Friend Back to Life
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.
"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.
9/29/09
God in a Box
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.
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.
9/5/09
He's Just a Little Boy
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.
8/31/09
Jesus Was 33 Once, Too
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.
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.
8/19/09
Simply Putting the Pieces Together
"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.
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.
8/14/09
It's A Hard Question To Ask
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.
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?
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 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.
7/31/09
It's Never Always
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.
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.
7/20/09
More Than Meets the Eye?
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.
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.
7/18/09
Thanks for the Reminder
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.
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.
7/3/09
Does it show?
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?
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?
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