Seeking Meaningful Holiday Celebrations

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I remember the childhood magic of unpacking our Christmas decorations every year, the anticipation of eating the candy cane cookies that my dad and I twisted into perfect pink and white hooks, and the joy of finding at least one special present under the tree. For years, I told my parents that someday I would get married at Christmas; eventually, I fulfilled that promise by getting married during the middle of a Michigan snowstorm, a few days after Christmas.

But somewhere along the way, Christmas lost its magic. Gradually, Christmas became a time of endless obligations, grading deadlines for report cards, and a growing list of gifts that needed to be purchased in order to deliver the perfect Christmas.

The birth of our children helped to turn around my Christmas slump. When our kids were finally old enough to do more than put wrapping paper into their mouths, their excitement over decorations, stockings, and finding that special gift under the tree became my excitement.

But even that joy doesn't make up for the pressure that I often feel at the height of the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Because we love having guests and cooking for others, for several years we launched the season by hosting Thanksgiving dinner. We spent weeks planning and cleaning and finally, on the day before, preparing a full spread for as many friends and family members as were able to make it to our Indiana home. At the end of the day, we were always thankful that we were able to go to sleep in our own beds without having to drive home from some other location.

Then two years ago, a couple of months before our second Thanksgiving in Texas, my husband suggested that we look into camping during the Thanksgiving holiday. After all, we didn't have any family around, the weather was going to be fall-camping perfect, and we had some extra days off of school. It was the perfect time for us to plan a trip several hours away from Houston.

So, we did it. We packed up all of our easily transportable outdoor cooking equipment and loaded it into our camper, bought the fixings for a Thanksgiving dinner for four, and headed down the Gulf Coast, settling on a state park less than two hours north of Corpus Christi. We spent the day before Thanksgiving driving down to Corpus and then all the way to Padre Island National Seashore, sightseeing and watching our kids pick up seashells along the coastline. The next day we enjoyed a small -- but complete -- Thanksgiving dinner, and on that Friday, we didn't even realize we had missed Black Friday shopping.

Last Thanksgiving, we made reservations just south of Dallas, and although it was cooler than our Thanksgiving on the coast, we once again enjoyed the escape from civilization. We were joined by friends, their two young daughters, and my sister-in-law and her family. This time, instead of spending our Black Friday on the road driving home, we spent it hiking, hopping across a river, and exploring fossilized dinosaur tracks.

It was official. Campsgiving was here to stay.

It is so easy to let the season from Thanksgiving to New Year's take on a life of its own. We convince ourselves that everything has to be perfect. We over plan, overspend, and overstress. We spend time with people we would prefer not to see and are so busy being busy that we don't spend quality time with the ones we want to see most. We say that we are thankful but don't demonstrate that thankfulness. We say that, "Jesus is the reason for the season," but then we fill up the space under the tree with things that we don't need while others receive nothing. We make New Year's resolutions but mentally prepare our contingency plans for when those resolutions fail.

But what if we just said, "No!" to all of the things that detract from the holiday celebrations and distract us from each other?

We discovered a holiday contentment that we had never before experienced when we made the decision to escape it all and camp for Thanksgiving. I wasn't freaking out about the house; we weren't scouring newspaper ads for things we didn't need and -- although we ate a huge Thanksgiving dinner -- we hadn't been bored. We didn't sit around eating food we didn't need before and after dinner out of boredom, because we were enjoying life in the great outdoors. It's refreshing. It's been so refreshing, that in addition to Campsgiving this year near New Orleans, we have also planned a Christmas camping trip to southwestern Texas. We intend to leave after church and a quiet Christmas morning and return just in time to ring in the New Year.

I'm not suggesting that the answer to all of our holiday busyness is to just drop everything and head outdoors. I spent most of my life in the cold, snowy north; that kind of outdoor living is only for the truly dedicated. But we do need to give ourselves permission to cut the things that prevent us from truly celebrating. Maybe we vow to buy fewer gifts and be truly intentional about the gifts that we do buy (and stick to it). Maybe we focus on experiences like zoo and museum memberships instead of more toys that will just get broken and forgotten. Maybe we volunteer at a homeless shelter and spend our time serving those who have nothing instead of sitting around watching football and holiday movies. Maybe we sit around the kitchen table to play a game instead of allowing everyone to retire to their own corners with the electronic devices of their choosing.

Instead of seeking the perfect holiday experience, maybe it is time to seek to better know our loved ones, to show compassion for those who are suffering, and to glorify the God who made our end-of-year celebrations possible.

But we can still enjoy a piece of pie.

Witten by Sarah Styf

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The Self-inflicted Curse of Creativity

I tend to be called creative a lot.

From the moment I chose design as a major in college, I sealed my professional fate as a "creative" in the industry.

Fast forward four years, a business minor, and way too many Red Bull-fueled late nights later, and I found myself as a proud ... college graduate who was living at home with my parents. Sound familiar?

Thanks to my decision to pursue a creative career, most people would assume I was living at home because I couldn't find a job.

The thing is, I wasn't actively looking for one. Instead, I was trying my hardest to create my own path in the form of a full-time freelance career.

Needless to say, I learned more in that following year than during my four and half years at college (don't judge me; I picked up that business minor a little late).

What followed was a decade of what I like to call "productive fumbling."

Throughout this time, I made a living by illustrating posters, building brands, designing websites, laying out apps, writing articles, teaching kids to sing, and doing pretty much anything else you can think of. I've even gotten paid to make weird sounds with my mouth while five other guys sing. True story.

Believe me. My goal here isn't to brag. It's simply to share that I know what it takes to create a career out of creativity (say that ten times fast).

Throughout this time, I can say one thing with 100-percent confidence: being creative is hard. Let me rephrase that: being creative is easy. Applying creativity is hard.

Anyone (with enough practice and access to Photoshop) can paint a pretty picture or tell a clever joke. What sets professional creatives apart is their ability to apply creativity in the real world. You know, the one where real people live and real businesses operate? We're talking about using creativity for more than just a clever Halloween costume once a year.

In some ways, I've always been fascinated with how I can apply my creativity instead of keeping it confined to my own sketchbook. This fascination started way back in college.

As a junior at a small liberal arts school in the middle of Nowhere, Missouri, I came across these two main problems:

1. No one ever wanted to come visit, and

2. There was a severe lack of "creative inspiration."

What started as an in-class illustration project turned into a chance for me to kill both of these birds with one stone. Naturally, I steered into the skid.

I decided to use my indisputable wit in order to create a series of fictional tourism posters for Kirksville, Missouri.

Some of the greatest hits included "Kirksville Date Night: Dinner and a Movie," showcasing a Redbox (remember those?) outside of a McDonald's as well as, "Thousand Hills State Park: Now with Even Less E. coli!" printed above a scenic lake.

After completing this eight-poster series for a grade, I ended up sharing them online. I honestly wasn't ready for what happened next.

A few weeks later, the posters went semi-viral, racking up over 11,000 views as well as requests for custom-commissioned posters. Our university even reached out, asking if they could use them for the annual spring fling.

After this experience, I considered each and every project an opportunity to learn, experiment, and set myself up for future success. Even as an inexperienced designer, I realized I could make student projects work a lot harder for me in the long run if I just thought bigger.

At this point in my life, I'm focused on applying my creativity to things that connect existing dots rather than blindly creating more. More specifically, I want to help others connect over shared ideas.

For me, the end result doesn't matter. Whether I share a piece of writing, design a mobile app, or launch an entire company, if it helps to create a smaller world connected by ideas, then I know I'm applying my creativity in a successful way.

What do you create, and what do you think it says about you?

Written by William Frazier

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Bracing for Holiday Challenges

A few days ago, I called the father of my two twenty-something children. For the past couple of years, the kids and I have been celebrating Thanksgiving at his condo in Philadelphia, while Christmas is at my house. I had gotten word through the "grapevine" (a.k.a. my son) that his dad was upset about the possibility that after dinner everyone would leave for their separate dwellings, and then he'd be stuck with the dishes.

"I'll stay overnight and help you clean up," I offered on the phone. (Staying over would not be terribly unusual, since we have continued to celebrate holidays with the kids for the last 13 years.) Although I can't say he accepted effusively, he did seem pleased that someone would be around to help pack up the stuffing and refrigerate the cranberry sauce.

The holidays bring different challenges for everyone. Perhaps you are at the stage of life when you go home for every holiday. Maybe you oversee the three-ring circus that involves taking young children to your parent's house. Possibly you are many miles away from your nuclear family and are spending the holiday with friends. You might even be estranged from your family and looking to spend the holiday in a restaurant or out at the movies.

Though many of us have idealized the way the holiday should be, the fact is that as we get older, our circumstances change. Mine certainly have. There is also a lot that we can't control. Our Thanksgiving holiday has recently included just our nuclear family. But the more people there are around the table, the greater the possibility for volatility.

People who have known you for most of your life may have lost track of how you have evolved over the years. But that can also be one of the best parts of the holiday: bringing them up to date.

In my little tribe, we all happen to share approximately the same political perspectives. But if your family or friends don't, Thanksgiving probably isn't the time to convince them. (Besides, Election Day is over for the year, so there's no point.)

Knowing that one of my kids often brings the drama, I try to mentally strap myself in and prepare for the ride. Maybe you have a sibling or a parent or an in-law like that. A little mental preparation may help you anticipate turbulence ahead.

Overall, I try to be as much in the moment as I can be, and to find reasons to be grateful (okay... later) for those moments when things don't go as planned. After all, those moments make the best stories -- for next Thanksgiving!

What Thanksgiving memories stand out in your mind? Have the family dynamics of your holidays changed over the years? Feel free to share your comments below.

Written by Elizabeth Eisenstadt Evans

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How to Mentor: Lessons from Eboo Patel

Over the past several years, I have had the privilege of grabbing coffee with Eboo Patel. A social entrepreneur based out of Chicago, Eboo is the founder and executive director of one of the fastest growing and most influential non-profits in the world, the Interfaith Youth Core. From time to time, Eboo and I get together to catch up and talk about what is going on in our lives.

As we've met over the years, I've noticed a pattern in our discussions. Every time we meet, he asks me, "What are your reading?" And usually there is a series of follow-up questions: "What are you learning? How are you applying those lessons?" and so on. During these conversations he always listens intently, offers his own insights, recommends other resources, and encourages self-reflection and growth.

Eboo is a visionary and an entrepreneur, but more than this, he is an excellent mentor for young leaders. As I've observed his interactions with other young leaders, I've noticed that he always asks the questions "What are you reading?" and "What are you learning?" In doing so, I see him modeling three principles I think anyone who mentors leaders should emulate.

First, Eboo encourages people to think deeply. He has a passion for helping people grow as independent and sophisticated thinkers. In a world of tabloid media, Twitter, and blogging, people are bombarded by a lot of junk. Eboo knows that intake is just as important as output-that our minds are shaped by what we read, listen to, and watch. So he takes time to encourage the thoughtful development of those he mentors by encouraging them to read deeply and critically.

Second, Eboo knows that breadth is as important as depth. He is always encouraging people to read from writers who represent a variety of perspectives on various subjects. He believes that in order to be well-rounded and thoughtful, we need to be willing to learn from those who challenge our assumptions. This helps us to appreciate different perspectives and not take our own positions for granted.

Finally, Eboo knows that integration is key. Beyond simply reading widely and deeply, he encourages life application. He challenges people to think about how to apply the lessons they're learning to their own lives and leadership. Leaders are those who learn to apply the knowledge they've gained in a way that shapes not only their own behaviors and practices, but in ways that serve and benefit the communities they lead. Eboo understands this and mentors others with this vital lesson in mind.

So, the next time you are mentoring someone, it might just be worth asking the question, "What are you reading?"

And, is what you're reading changing you?

Written by Nick Price

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Courage in the Wilderness

My feet were dragging across a rocky single-track trail in the Superstition Wilderness east of Phoenix. It was nearly 90 degrees outside, and I was 43 miles into a 52.4-mile run -- a double marathon. The entire right side of my body was cramping, my legs were sapped of energy, and I could feel my heart rate climbing like a mountain goat up a scree field.

I hurt. I hurt bad. I was in what ultrarunners call the "pain cave," and I was trying to claw my way out.

As deep as I was in that abyss of agony, it was about to get worse. Tired from the accumulated miles and stress of the heat, my legs faltered, and my toe caught a rock. I tripped, face-planting into the dirt, crags, and cacti below.

It was then that I faced a choice: to pick up my sorry, spasming body and continue on -- or, to slither into the scant shade provided by a lonely piñon pine and hope that a hiker or runner would find me before I shriveled up into dust, disappointment, and despair.

That moment called for courage, and I didn't know if I had any to summon.

When most people think of courage, they think of bravery, fearlessness, or feats of super-heroic valor. And yet, despite what we think or imagine, courage is not about being impervious to fear, pain, or struggle. Instead, courage is something that emerges out of fear, pain, and struggle.

In fact, courage cannot exist without adversity.

We have seen it before. The runner that crumbles meters from the finish line and crawls across it to claim the win. The team that fights its way back to victory after a deep deficit. The amputee who not only learns to walk again, but also goes on to conquer mountains. The shy, awkward, nerdy guy who works up the pluck to ask out his secret crush despite being turned down so many times before.

What we see in these moments is courage. True courage. Courage forged in fear, built after burnout, and worked out in the wilderness of anxiety, pain, and loss.

This life is one that is full of struggle and pain, death and decay. Things go wrong. We hurt. We fumble, we falter, and we fall.

All of these difficult life experiences and tragedies threaten the very integrity of ourselves, our beings, our souls. At critical crossroads in our lives, we feel the weight of the world crushing in on us, and we face a choice: to pick ourselves up and carry on in courage or turn in on ourselves and shrivel up into the dust, disappointment, and despair.

Instead of trying to avoid anxiety or sidestep struggle, we should embrace these moments in our lives as opportunities for courage to be developed, practiced, and put to use.

Reflecting on the idea of courage, Paul Tillich wrote that true courage is not something that removes or rejects anxiety, but engages it and takes it into itself. Basically, Tillich argued, courage is embracing fear -- not avoiding it, ignoring it, or pretending it doesn't exist.

In fact, we could go so far as to say that courage is something forged in, through, and by our "wilderness experiences." The Hebrew Scriptures' book of Numbers tells the tale of the Hebrew people as they wandered in the desert between Egypt and Canaan after being freed from slavery. It was a place of terror and tension, of complaint and consequences, of danger and death. Thinking on Tillich and reflecting on the Hebrews' wilderness experience, Rabbi Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg wrote that this was the place -- not the land of their enslavement or the promised land ahead -- that served as "the stark theater in which human courage" was to be formed and practiced. Before they were to enter into the land promised to them, the Hebrew people had to learn what courage is by facing annihilation and anxiety.

So it is with us as well. When faced with the great challenges of life, we will need to pull on reservoirs of courage, miracles of audacity that emerge from our past experiences where fear has been transformed into faith, loathing into love, and hardship into hope.

What this requires is stepping out into the world. Going for it. Climbing that mountain, loving the unloved, asking that someone out on a date, standing against injustice, or finishing that run in the wilderness when your cramped legs and bloodied and blistered feet don't want to carry you any farther.

So try. Go for it. Even in the doing of the thing that fills you with dread, you are courageous. And if you don't feel courageous quite yet, your journey into the unknown wilds of this life will reveal it soon enough.

Written by Ken Chitwood

What strategies do you employ when your back is up against the wall? Does resolute determination or victory at all costs sound like you? Have you gleaned some helpful approaches learning from the lives or writings of others?

If so, we'd like to hear about it.

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Sufficient, But Not Saving

I often notice that a lot of commercials and ads have one big message in common: if you're not buying or doing or subscribing to or wearing such and such, your life is not as good as it could be. There seems to be almost a moral pressure to consume the advertised thing. It's easy to wonder if I'm good enough, doing the right thing, living life the right way, or consuming the "right" things. These ads seem to advise that if I follow their suggestions, perhaps I'd be able to get control over a small corner of life-and in so doing, to live a little more abundantly, be a little more in the moment, and overall, enjoy life more.

One of the things that I feel pressure to be better at is saving financially, especially for the sake of retirement. My family situation, as of this writing, is such that I'm the only full-time worker. That means we're living off of my income alone. It's sufficient to live, to be sure. But it's not quite sufficient to save for the long term.

I consider this cost against the fact that my wife gets to be a stay-at-home mom. My wife and I believe that her regular and reliable presence at home will be invaluable for our children as they grow.

But as a father and the one who is responsible (for now) for providing financially for everything my family needs, I inevitably have those days when I wish I could do more. When those feelings creep in, I get a little anxious about the future. Saving for retirement is supposed to be a form of control, at least somewhat, over a little corner of life that isn't here yet, but is coming nevertheless.

When I was growing up, I saw a lot of people who seemed to work all the time, taking little time off. For a while, this became a model to me, causing me to assume that this is what I was supposed to do with my own life.

Of course, one can be driven to approach work in this way for a variety of reasons. Perhaps one started with nothing, and never wants to let that happen again. Perhaps there was a time when one was out of work, and there's always that lurking fear that it could happen again; so, (over-) working becomes a way to protect oneself from future unemployment that may or may not come. Or perhaps they felt the same pressure that I often feel when I think about saving for retirement.

As I consider the various kinds of pressure that are always before us, calling us to improve our lot in life, I find myself wondering if there's something deeper at play. Perhaps there's a spiritual anxiety that gets hooked into everything that promises to make our lives better. I wonder if, in some unwitting way, we're all trying a little bit to save ourselves, to secure a future that is free from certain kinds of anxiety, pain, suffering, or lack of meaning.

For me, while I am undoubtedly haunted by a similar kind of pressure to do something about my own future by saving for retirement, I also feel a reticence to invest too much of my own emotional energy into it all. It may seem careless, but I'm fairly confident that there will come a day when I'll be better able to put some money away toward retirement, rather than only live off of my current income. (I hope I'm not wrong.) So, when the anxiety comes that makes me wonder if I'm doing the right thing for my future (or doing enough), I find it easier to shake it off than others might.

But this has nothing to do with carelessness. For me, it has everything to do with where I place my hope. As a Christian, I take seriously Jesus' call to worry less about the things of this life and more about the age to come. But I also admit that I don't always know how that's supposed to look or feel. And furthermore, my take on how to live it out might be rather different than someone else's.

Where are you struggling with these things? Are you anxious about having some kind of control over the future, perhaps in terms of financial security? What effect does that anxiety have on your daily life?

Or are you trying to live more in the moment, and worry less about the future (but not live carelessly so as to put it in jeopardy)?

Or is there some other approach we should all know about?

Written by Chad Lakies

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Binging, Self-Control, and the "Great Life-Waster"

I'd like to take a moment and consider the word binge. According to Webster's dictionary, a binge is "an unrestrained and often excessive indulgence." Another definition is "an act of excessive or compulsive consumption." Of those definitions, I find the word "compulsive" to be the most significant and the most frightening. The implication is that if I'm binging, I literally cannot stop myself.

When I was a kid, the word had an inherently negative connotation, and was typically associated with food or alcohol. Modern technology has changed all of that. Netflix, and other streaming mediums, have very much changed how we consume entertainment, and how we discuss it. We laugh about how we may binge a new TV show, or YouTube channel, or video game.

At our house, after the kids have been put to bed and the long hours of two full-time working parents start to fizzle out, we often use Netflix, et al., for detoxing our day. The problem I find is that when I intend to take a short break, maybe an hour (or an episode), suddenly I've watched four and it's well past when I should have gone to bed. And those papers I needed to grade now need to be squished into tomorrow's responsibilities. I almost always regret my choices and wonder what kind of example I am setting for my kids. (Do as I say, but not as I do.)

We've all heard about the literature for what technology does to the brain, specifically children's brains. It has been studied and documented to negatively affect their growth and development...but I didn't need that empirical evidence because I have watched it firsthand.

After two separate week-long stays in our local children's hospital, my eldest daughter was early-diagnosed with asthma at 18 months old. Prior to this, TV wasn't really a part of her life. She never seemed interested in it, and since we basically have strong emotions of disdain for most kid-themed music and cartoons, we never really pushed the issue. But post-diagnosis, she was required to sit still for 45 minutes of breathing through a nebulizer, sometimes more than once in a day. If you have ever attempted to get an 18-month-old to sit still for 5 minutes, you'll understand the dilemma we faced.

TV quickly became integral to this process, and initially we were watching educational shows (hello, Baby Einstein). By the time she was two, she could contentedly sit through the first half of The Sound of Music, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or Mary Poppins in its entirety.

Fast forward a few years and television is now engrained into our family function. We routinely would all sit in front of the TV first thing in the morning (especially weekends), while eating, or as the final slow-down from our day (like my frequent nighttime Netflix binges). Some days, all of the above.

We also had a very temperamental and strong-willed 3-year-old with, it seemed, anger issues.

One day her behavior went too far too many times and she was "grounded" from TV for an entire weekend. I won't lie to you and say that it was easy to hold our ground. Her initial tantrum was of epic proportions. That Friday night was awful, and eventually she cried herself to sleep. The following day, when we would normally have watched some cartoons in the morning, we saw another monster tantrum. By that evening, we could tell she was starting to lose some steam. Sunday was a glorious day that was not only tantrum-free, but also was generally a good day. After this, she didn't even ask to watch anything for several weeks.

The change in her behavior was palpable. We could see immediate reactions to any exposure to television or electronics. When we used a movie or short TV show as a reward, it almost always backfired into bad choices and tantrums. Even now, the same behavior vortex has proved true with phones and tablets as well.

We see that when Grandma comes over and hands her an iPad (which we don't do), in less than 30 seconds she becomes so zoned into what she is doing that I often have to physically remove the device from her grip to bring her back to the real world. This is true even if her screen time is educational or artistic in nature.

Removing technology from both of our daughter's lives has been a change for the better. We do watch TV together sometimes, as special treats...and of course when they are sick it can help to stave off the boredom. But we have never once regretted adding a layer of separation from what my childhood friend calls, "The Great Life-Waster."

I'm not naysaying the value or opportunity that is possible when technology is correctly utilized. I'm not saying we should never let our kids near a screen. But my observation has been that it can easily control us more than the other way around.

At our elder daughter's recent 6-year checkup, the doctor wanted to confirm that she was getting "less than two hours of screen time a day." We were surprised. That seems like a lot for a six-year-old. But when I sit back and think about my own methods of daily detox, or exposure to "screen time" in general...I almost always exceed the two-hour mark.

Does my marriage benefit from those three hours watching Game of Thrones, or could we have used that time to sit outside and actually talk? How present was I while "playing" with my kids? That probably depends on whether or not I had my phone out the entire time. Did I sleep better or worse as a result of falling asleep while scrolling Facebook or Twitter? The list goes on.

Perhaps I should start holding myself accountable to the same restrictions that I have for my kids. I think the mere act of asking myself these kinds of questions (however uncomfortable I may find them) is a good place to start.

Written by Aaron Roose

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What's So Big About Church?

For many of us as kids, church was the place we found ourselves Sunday mornings, week after week. It was a habit many of our parents brought forward into their lives, having gone to church regularly when they were children.

When it comes to church, there are a number of terms used to indicate one's association with a local congregation. We have the "churched" (regular attenders), the "unchurched" (non-attenders), and the "dechurched" (former attenders). If somebody hasn't already, it seems we could also include the "pre-churched" (as the name implies) and the "re-churched" (returnees to the fold).

When I talk to non-church-going buddies, it seems one of the reasons they don't go (besides not feeling a particular need to, not having any denominational tie in particular, not interested in the whole singing and preaching and praying routine, and not being a big fan of that "crowd" in general) is that the times when they actually attended a church service were often awkward, uncomfortable or, very likely, both.

I've felt that way, too.

And I try to remember that when I'm there now. When I see someone as an island of one in the middle of a sea of people, I try to reach out to that person with a quick hello and handshake. When I'm asked by a well-meaning preacher to introduce myself and greet the person next to me, I try to do it (though I must admit there are times when I still squirm). When I'm walking through the church hall between groups of people chatting and mixing, I hold my head high, smile, and put forth a pleasant demeanor.

And often when I do this ("putting it into manual" is what I call it), there are results. People lighten up, and connections begin to form. This acting like a loving, caring person can actually start an interior change. You see that people are not your opponents but, rather, they are potential friends and allies. And, oddly enough, it all begins with a few proactive moves in the right direction.

Surely, Jesus must have experienced something like this. Surrounded by people from various walks of life, He acted in love, drawing others close with a willingness to discover more about them. He'd drill down a little, ask questions, get to know them better -- always eager to talk about the things that really mattered.

I don't always -- or even mostly -- do it, but that's what I'd like to be doing at church: honing my people skills, finding ways to care, being more like Jesus.

That's kind of what church seems like it should be.

How about it? What do you get out of church? Is it a place where we can become more like Jesus? You can let us know by clicking here.

Labors of Love

Another Labor Day come and gone.

For most of us, the hardest work we ever faced was something unpleasant, usually during our teen years, as we entered the workforce. For some of us, it was toiling in the blinding heat of summer, carrying stacks of roofing shingles up a ladder to a carpenter. Maybe it was cleaning the grease pit at a convenience store "kitchen," which specialized in chicken wings, high-fat burgers, and crinkle-cut French fries. Or it might have been enduring the mind-numbing repetition of assembly-line work, trying hard not to lag behind the experienced workers, as you plotted your way into a new career.
For me one of the hardest jobs I ever had involved scraping and shoveling asbestos insulation from ovens used to cure sewer pipes. That was a very long summer.

Each of us keeps a memory tucked into some corner of our mind of the hardest jobs we ever had to do. It's good to pull out that memory once in a while, so we can put our current job in perspective.

For example, a veteran sitting all day long in an air-conditioned office, attending boring meetings can seem a grind at the time, but it's absolutely delightful next to being yelled at by drill sergeants and endless hours of physical training.

When it comes down to it, hard jobs aren't always defined by soaring temperatures, blitzed muscles, or intolerable bosses; they can also be measured by the amount of stress produced, anxiety raised, or nightmares generated.

I can do great doing most anything physical or mental, but the hardest work for me involves relationships.

One of the toughest jobs I ever signed up for is being a husband. Even today, after years of married life, I struggle to define my role and responsibilities in this mighty endeavor. And, of course, the transition from husband to father creates vast opportunities for other hard jobs to surface: changing diapers, giving baths, helping with homework, encouraging broken hearts, and teaching one to drive.

In retrospect, my job as husband and father may be one of the most difficult in terms of stress and anxiety, but it's one I would not trade for all the air-conditioned corner offices and six-figure salaries in the world. That being said, there are fringe benefits, too. Like yesterday afternoon, when my son bolted across the backyard, threw a couple of well executed head dekes, and caught my screen pass just before going "out of bounds" at the side of the house. Yep, the hours we spent playing catch in the backyard are paying off. And with the NFL season kicking off this week, his timing couldn't have been better.

When have you found a tough job turn into something rewarding?

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What Makes Our Prayers Different?

We often hear about doing things in the Name of Jesus. In fact, Jesus is pretty specific about this. Here are three instances from the Gospel of John.

"Whatever you ask in My Name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My Name, I will do it" (John 14:13-14).

"You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in My Name, He may give it to you" (John 15:16).

"In that day you will ask nothing of Me. Truly, truly, I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in My Name, He will give it to you" (John 16:23).

So, Jesus encourages us to ask for what we need in His Name. What does that mean? If you go to a Bible internet site like Biblegateway.com and you search for all the times the Bible uses "in my name," you quickly begin to see that "in my name" means "under my authority" or "with my signature added" or "with me co-signing for you." When we pray in Jesus' Name, we are praying with Jesus' full support behind us. We are like people who come to ask a favor from a king, and we have a letter from the king's son with us, which reads, "Father, please take this concern seriously and give a good answer, for I myself am giving them the authority to ask you just as if I were asking you myself."

That is what makes a Christian prayer different from any other prayer from any non-Christian around the world. Everybody prays, but Christians alone pray with Jesus' signature added to the bottom of our prayer. And that signature is there regardless of whether we actually say the words "In Jesus' Name we pray," because our whole Christian lives are lived "in Jesus' Name" -- not just our prayers, but also our service, our teaching and preaching, our acts of charity, and basically everything we do because we belong to Christ. We are His ambassadors; what we do is done in His Name (which can be a huge and frightening responsibility sometimes!). And so, we are responsible for making sure that what we do in His Name is something that should be done in His Name: something that is good, loving, and honors God the Father.

So, you can see why so many people routinely add the words "In Jesus' Name" to the end of all their prayers. They are reminding themselves of this privilege Jesus has given us, to come to God the Father in His Name. But as you noticed about the Lord's Prayer, not every Christian prayer ends with those exact words spoken. If you look in the book of Acts, you will find many Christian prayers from the early church, and I don't recall even one of them ending with the exact words "In Jesus' Name" though the meaning was there.

So, when you pray, you can use the form "In Jesus' Name" if you wish to, or you are free to leave it out. The meaning will still be there in everything you pray, because you belong to Jesus. Sometimes I use the formula "in Jesus' Name" because I want to remind myself exactly what's going on when I pray; sometimes I use it because I am praying out loud among fellow Christians who have grown up thinking they must always say those words, and they get afraid and disturbed if someone prays without using those exact words. So, for their sake I add them in.

That's a good principle for however we pray when we are with fellow Christians; if they can't stop worrying about this issue, we can just go ahead and say it to put their minds at rest. But it's clear from the Bible that God has given us all the Christian freedom either to use those exact words, to paraphrase them, or to leave them out entirely when we pray. Jesus' Name will still be on what we pray, whether we say those specific words out loud or not.

Have you thought much before about the phrase "in Jesus' Name"? Is it something you add to your prayers?

What kinds of words do you think about when you pray, as in what favorite phrases or repetitions do you use? Any come to mind?

You can comment by clicking here.

Fending off Demons

This Friday a couple friends and I will be watching the 100th PGA Championship at Bellerive Country Club in St. Louis, Missouri. It's one of golf's four major championships and the season's final major. We'll be there for round two cuts, which means the entire field will be in full swing. At the end of the day, the top 70 players, including ties, make the cut and finish out the tourney on Saturday and Sunday.

As this particular PGA Championship is a milestone, the Gateway City was lucky to land it. On hand will be those upper-echelon players who consistently breathe the rarified ether found at the game's top tiers. Guys like Bubba Watson, Sergio Garcia, Vijay Singh, and Ricky Fowler will be there. Also playing in St. Louis are household names like Jordan Spieth, Phil Mickelson, Rory McIlroy, Tiger Woods, and that other guy we may have all but forgotten: John Daly.

Remember him? He's the dude with a penchant for cocktails, a flair for drama, and twitchy fingers at the slot machines. Though his lifestyle seems to have mellowed in the last few years, he's still a colorful character. Thing is, we're gonna to have to get there early to see him at the opening tee. He begins at 7:34 a.m. Nevertheless, I hope to seem him launch one of those trademark boomers that propelled him to 18 pro tour wins.

Daly brings to mind one of the things I really like about golf, and that's the commitment you must have to get good and stay good. The game demands constant attention. Like a virtuoso instrumentalist, top-notch players have devoted the lion's share of their lives to their craft: scrutinizing tee-offs, analyzing bunker play, honing fairway shots, laboring over every nuance of their putting game and, perhaps, most importantly -- like Daly -- fending off their demons.

We all have things that trip us up.

What do you do to steer clear of those landmines that would derail you or run your ship aground? How do you handle the unexpected occurrence/appearance of some pet sin that always seems to satisfy -- and then leave you ... empty?

You can pass along your tips of wisdom by clicking here and telling us about it.

P.S. And if you've got a way to cure a slice, we'd like to hear that, too.

Happily, Ever After?

I enjoyed fairy tales when I was young. I don't think I'm alone in this because those same stories continue to be passed on from generation to generation -- even turned into TV shows and feature films. Why so popular? Because in the end they all live happily, ever after. But experience teaches us that's not how real life works. Throughout our lives we will continue to struggle with various problems: sorrow and heartbreak, financial struggles, relationship problems, sickness and, finally, death. Whatever we may have thought as kids, fairy tales don't come true.

Or do they?

When I was a senior in high school, I wondered about life after high school. It seemed a distant land full of promise: no more term papers, no more daily assignments, no more rules and regulations, no more curfews.

But I soon discovered life after high school was work, and rush-hour traffic, bills, and uncertainties. Then came college and a whole new set of hurdles to jump. Each time I crossed a threshold from one phase to another, I've found the new phase was never quite as golden as I thought it would be. Finishing college, taking my first job, watching my bride walk down the aisle, hearing the doctor say the baby is on his way -- those new phases are full of promise and joy, but they aren't happily, ever after, are they?

I expect the same thing will be true going forward if, God willing, I see retirement and the later years of my life. Each phase will have plenty of troubles, trials, tears, and frustrations of its own.

So, the fairy-tale ending is not realistic, at least not for this life. But what if we step back and look at the larger picture? What happens after death?

The night before Jesus died, He made a fairy-tale-like promise to His disciples -- and to each of us. "In My Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also" (John 14:2-3).

God the Father is our Heavenly King. Jesus Christ is His Son, our Prince Charming. All of us as believers are the Cinderellas He raises from the dust to live with Him in His Kingdom.

On Judgment Day Jesus will return to take us home, and then with glorified bodies, we will live happily ever after in our Heavenly Father's house.

So, when you think about it, your life really is a fairy tale. We just won't get to that happily-ever-after part until Jesus returns to take us home. I think Paul had that fairy-tale ending in mind when he wrote, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us" (Romans 8:18).

A fairy-tale ending ... that's not quite what we expect from this life, is it?

It seems knowing the end would make the journey we're on now all the more satisfying. Maybe that's where we step out in faith and let God do what He would with our lives.

You can comment by clicking here.

Is It Just Me?

Over the years, I've become pretty cynical about what I read, watch, and hear. I do not believe there is such a thing as "unbiased" media. In today's world most media conveys a specific point of view, agenda, or call to action. The same "news" story reported on five different channels will offer five different conclusions. Corporations and governments alike employ a cadre of media specialists to provide "spin," so their point of view is portrayed as fact.

Over the years, I've looked for the "So what?" in what I hear, see, or read -- especially in the media.

I define the "So what?" as an action or attitude that the author wishes me to adopt.

For example, when watching a car commercial, the "So what?" is that I be moved to purchase that vehicle. Those "So whats?" are easy to spot.

When I watch a movie or TV show, the "So what?" may be a little harder to find, but it's still there. For example, any TV show that involves "ordinary" people singing, dancing, or performing has the "So what?" that each of us are talented, capable, and have an opportunity to win millions of dollars.

Ads promoting the lottery offer the "So what?" that you will be a hero to school kids as you spend your money on the lottery, which funds education. Some of these ads leave me feeling as if I am a terrible person who hates kids if I don't plunk down my dollars for them -- at least once in a while.

Now some of you may be saying to yourself, "So what?"

The "So what?" I want you to think about is to become a critical consumer of media. Too often we accept most everything we hear or read without thinking objectively about it. We buy into the mindset that "If it's on the internet, on the national news, or in the newspaper, then it must be true ... at least mostly." This also applies to hearing it from "live" sources as when we wholesale accept something because we heard it from a friend or family member. Suffice it to say, critical thinking should accompany us wherever we go.

As for me, I read the fine print, look for the angles, and will not send money to Africa because someone died and named me in his will.

This whole critical-thinking thing is something worthwhile to pass along to the next generation, too. The world's awash in hyperbole and trivial nonsense, and it's targeted (as it has been for years) at the very young as well. For young and impressionable minds, the world is full of choices like never before. Some are of value; many are not, and it's a huge help if by our input and experience we can help them see the difference.

As any guy knows, one priceless benefit that comes with age is the lesson gained from our hard-won experience. But let's not let these life-changing gems remain with us. Be sure to pass them on when you get a chance, but do so tactfully, in small, steady doses. As we all know, it's good medicine for those who hear it, but for some it may be hard to swallow.

When was the last time you heard something that made you ask, "So what?"?

You can let us know by clicking here.

People Tend to Forget

We'll be celebrating the Fourth of July next week Wednesday, and with it will come all the parades, barbecues, gatherings of family and friends and, of course, fireworks.

The Fourth of July was always fun when I was growing up. In Chicago we'd often go downtown to the lakefront and watch the fireworks. There'd be crowds of people all along the water, up and down Michigan Avenue, lounging around in Grant Park, enjoying Buckingham Fountain, and pretty much all over the joint. There were street-vendor hotdogs ("red hots"), magnificent burgers, loads of junk food, and plenty to drink.

It was a good time.

Of course, in the end it was all about the fireworks. After the sun set, we'd watch the sky slowly transform from light blue to black. With a rousing background of live orchestral music to properly introduce the forthcoming display, the first shell was sent ripping through the sky. More followed, each with its distinctive display of colors and patterns. Pretty soon it was an all-out barrage. As the shells blasted off into the sky and burst into brilliant colors, smiles would break over our faces, as we gawked and groaned at the fusillade taking place overhead. In between the blasts of vibrant hues, there was the occasional shell that spun its way into the air and then, with a pregnant pause, would boom louder than the rest. Suddenly, its shock wave would reverberate through our bodies.

For some, those were a little too close to home.

A few years have gone by since those Fourth of July days. Now when I watch those flashes of color and feel the shell's explosive vibrations, I find my thoughts turning to my oldest brother, and to my father. My brother did two tours in Vietnam with the Marine Corps. His military career, like my Dad's time with the Navy in World War II, was one that put him in the thick of it at times, with all the gut-wrenching spectacle that involves. For servicemen and women everywhere, the Fourth of July's "rockets' red glare" carries real meaning. As we enjoy the celebration of our nation's independence, others may recall different times -- harrowing times of terror and uncertainty -- that they would just as soon forget.

Let us remember them as we applaud our nation's independence this Fourth of July and give thanks for the courage of our servicemen and servicewomen throughout the world. If you have a veteran or active military person in your orbit next Wednesday, be sure to let them know their service is appreciated.

Any fond or poignant recollections from the Fourth of July you'd like to pass along? If so, please click here and share your thoughts.

When Right Now Seems Like All There Is

In his youth there wasn't much room for God. He was far too busy thinking about this life -- his goals, dreams, and aspirations. He was preoccupied with getting ahead. That didn't leave much room for sympathy either. It's pretty hard to put yourself in someone else's shoes if all you can think of is yourself. He brashly did whatever came to mind, without giving any thought to the fallout that would result.

I could be talking about many young men -- myself included. But I'm thinking of Jacob from the Bible. When his older brother Esau was famished from his work in the fields, Jacob saw his chance to steal the birthright: i.e. all the rights and privileges that belonged to the firstborn. For a bowl of stew, he tricked Esau out of that precious birthright. (Of course, that shows Esau didn't give much thought to the future, thoughtlessly trading away the honor of carrying on the line that would lead to the promised Savior, Jesus Christ.) But hey, when you're hungry, you're hungry.

Some time passed, and Jacob and Esau's dad Isaac thought he was going to die. So he sent Esau, his favorite, to hunt and prepare a special meal. Afterwards, he would pass on his blessing to his son. The problem was he didn't realize his wife Rebekah was listening in. She knew God had chosen Jacob, so she told Jacob to dress as Esau and trick his nearly blind father to get the blessing instead. Jacob was a natural-born deceiver, but he was also shrewd, too. Sure, he had a lot to gain if he could secure that blessing, but if Isaac saw through the deception he'd earn a curse, instead of a blessing. Mom insisted, however, and Jacob went along.

The problem was neither of them was thinking things through. The trickery might work in that moment, but eventually Esau was going to come in with the meal. Soon enough Isaac would learn he had been duped by Jacob. But mom Rebekah insists, and Jacob gets his father's blessing, with the reward of having to flee for his life when Esau is furious enough to kill him. This ends with Jacob spending 20 years away from his family as a result, during which time his mother dies.

How often do we shipwreck our lives with foolish decisions, rash words, or perverse actions when we're young? God dedicated the much of the book of Proverbs in the Bible to young men, warning us of the many booby traps, snares, and pitfalls our youthful desires can lead us into. Wise is the young man who trusts God's Word and resists those lusts and passions with God's help.

But the story of Jacob (Genesis 25-49) is the story of God's renewal, even when we have shipwrecked our lives. Jacob was in the middle of his flight from Esau when God appeared to him in a dream. Suddenly, the God he had never given much thought to was important to him. As Jacob became the victim of dishonesty and selfish deception from his Uncle Laban, with whom he spent those 20 years, he learned God was the only One he could rely on. He was Jacob's only help and rescue when 20 years later he returned to his brother Esau.

God created us to love and serve Him as we care for one another. Our sin makes us selfish, faithless, and reckless, but God faithfully, persistently, seeks us out, offering forgiveness and complete restoration. Through the perfect obedience of Jesus, our Lord, which included suffering the punishment for all our sins on the cross, we have a new life waiting for us.

What is the story of your life? Have you seen God's hand in it through the years? Have you been able to dodge a few disasters by leaning on His Word -- trusting and being patient when all your senses urged you to go rushing forward?

You can click here and share your experience and reflections.

Default Thinking

I was thinking about all the tiffs between people that, seemingly, have no end. Sometimes even finding the origin of the dispute is an exercise in futility. What happens at the human micro-level, of course, plays out between groups of people and extends even to the hostilities shared between nations. It reminds me of a bit of dialogue fashioned a while back by that American master, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain. In it he relays a bit of homespun conversation between Huck Finn and Buck Grangerford in his timeless classic, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The gist of it is Huck trying to ascertain how the long-running blood feud between the Grangerfords and the Sheperdsons all started -- and why it keeps going.

Huck begins the conversation:

"Did you want to kill him, Buck?"

"Well, I bet I did."

"What did he do to you?"

"Him? He never done nothing to me."

"Well, then, what did you want to kill him for?"

"Why, nothing -- only it's on account of the feud."

"What's a feud?"

"Why, where was you raised? Don't you know what a feud is?"

"Never heard of it before -- tell me about it."

"Well," says Buck, "a feud is this way: A man has a quarrel with another man, and kills him; then that other man's brother kills him; then the other brothers, on both sides, goes for one another; then the cousins chip in -- and by and by everybody's killed off, and there ain't no more feud. But it's kind of slow, and takes a long time."

"Has this one been going on long, Buck?"

"Well, I should reckon! It started thirty year ago, or som'ers along there. There was trouble 'bout something, and then a lawsuit to settle it; and the suit went agin one of the men, and so he up and shot the man that won the suit -- which he would naturally do, of course. Anybody would."

"What was the trouble about, Buck? -- land?"

"I reckon maybe -- I don't know."

"Well, who done the shooting? Was it a Grangerford or a Shepherdson?"

"Laws, how do I know? It was so long ago."

"Don't anybody know?"

"Oh, yes, pa knows, I reckon, and some of the other old people; but they don't know now what the row was about in the first place."

Hmmm. While our mental defaults might not be as entrenched -- or trigger-happy -- as that of Buck Grangerford, it's still easy to go through life with a preset frame of mind.

We all have predispositions toward things that we've inherited along the way. When do you know you're defaulting back to those kinds of ideas in your own life?

How do you try to "neutralize" that thinking to keep your mind open and ready for new ideas?

You can let us know by clicking here.

The Sensible Art of Ambulation

I don't know if it's age or routine or what, but I don't get outside to walk quite often enough these days. I remember periods in my life when going for a walk just to go for a walk was an anticipated and almost daily occurrence. The chance to brush off the cobwebs in the open air was a welcome respite from the stale oxygen of closed spaces. And there was always a feeling of rejuvenation at the end of my trek, with a renewed focus on whatever the day held next.

I might add too that the particular peregrination of which I speak is unaccompanied. Absent are cell phone, headphones and a playlist of jams, and/or any other device that distracts or preoccupies my thoughts.

Rest assured, you can do without them for a while.

Evidently, not a few creative types have found walking a healthy pursuit, with a dedicated allegiance coming from those who write for a living. Authors from Dickens and Thoreau to Orwell and Nabokov were fond of practicing the simple art of ambulation in their quest to vent their minds and inspire their creativity.

"There is something about the pace of walking and the pace of thinking that goes together," said Geoff Nicholson, author of The Lost Art of Walking, in a BBC interview. "Walking requires a certain amount of attention, but it leaves great parts of the time open to thinking. I do believe once you get the blood flowing through the brain it does start working more creatively. Your senses are sharpened. As a writer, I also use it as a form of problem solving. I'm far more likely to find a solution by going for a walk than sitting at my desk and thinking."

So, do you ever feel like your brain's not firing on all cylinders? Is your thinking sometimes dull and uninspired?

If so, put on your favorite pair of kicks and see where you end up. You may find the fresh air and open spaces therapeutic in ways you never imagined. (And remember, leave the gadgets at home.)

Do you have any favorite treks you make to clear your head and sort out your thinking? You can share your thoughts here: click here!

Right Under Our Noses

While our taste in literature or music or movies is often deeply personal, it's also governed in many respects by the trends and cultural sway of society. We get caught up in a craze of sorts, and we're off and running, watching episode after episode of some TV program or reading in rapid succession all the books we can find in a certain sci-fi or period-piece series.

If we try to disengage from the current and the wildly popular, we may have to dig pretty deep to get back to some of the earliest stuff we experienced under the banner of "media" -- long before the word was a catchall for every kind of human expression.

Take poetry, for instance. Remember studying poems in grade school? All those flowery rhythms and rhymes and extravagant ideas never seemed to do the trick for me. On the other hand, consider Alfred Lord Tennyson's stirring description of a British cavalry unit that is ordered to cross a valley to capture Russian cannons at the other end.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Poetry has the power to move us, to motivate us, to open our eyes. It's often closer than we think, too, like the hymnbook. I know it's tough for men to sing. Some of us never got beyond that cracking-voice thing that happened in junior high or middle school, but if you don't sing -- or at least read the words while others are singing -- you can miss a lot. As an example, read this hymn text slowly; think about the imagery, and you might get a sense of how Jesus overcame Thomas' unbelief:

These Things Did Thomas Count as Real

These things did Thomas count as real:
The warmth of blood, the chill of steel,
The grain of wood, the heft of stone,
The last frail twitch of flesh and bone.
The vision of his skeptic mind
Was keen enough to make him blind
To any unexpected act
Too large for his small world of fact.

His reasoned certainties denied
That one could live when one had died,
Until his fingers read like Braille
The marking of the spear and nail.
May we, O God, by grace believe
And thus the risen Christ receive,
Whose raw imprinted palms reached out
And beckoned Thomas from his doubt.

Poetry. Its power is undeniable, but for many of us it's an acquired taste. Without a melody to hum along and carry the words, it's easy to dismiss the subtle attention to detail of a well-wrought poem or a tightly constructed hymn.

Sometimes great poetry -- and the meaning it conveys -- is closer than we think, like in the pew, right under our noses

What are you reading or watching or listening to these days? Does it beat the standard fare media companies are offering the masses?

Click here and let us know.

Come Together

The vibe that's in the air ~ that unmistakable feeling that something huge is going to happen ~ is the nationwide sensation that the Men's NetWork WORK DAY is coming very, very soon. On Saturday, April 28, guys from around the country will chip in, help out, and bless lives in ways that truly show the spirit of Jesus' love in action. You can be a part of this wonderful event by signing up and registering here.

We're going to keep this section short and to the point. If your men's group has an urge to go out and do something really good on the last Saturday of April, there's still time to sign up for this year's big service event. There's more than 500 guys on board already, and they're set to do all kinds of beneficial jobs in their neighborhoods and communities.

You and the guys in your men's group can join them, too. Registration details and sign-up pages are available here. You can access them by clicking here.

Any last-minute words of encouragement to those men's groups that haven't signed up yet? You can pass them along by click here and leaving a note.

Purging

There's a sense of optimism that goes with having a garage sale. Shedding boxes of assorted items that no longer make sense to hang on to is both satisfying and liberating. Having moved a time or two, I am quite familiar with the process of getting rid of boxes of stuff that live under the stairs, in the basement, and in the space over the garage. It seems I can store three boxes of clothes, and the next thing I know there are seven for me to remove. It's amazing how we accumulate stuff.

Recently, I was helping a friend set up for a garage sale. He and his wife are planning to sell their house, so the couple wanted to dig in and deplete all the stuff they don't need any more.

Now having three kids under the age of five meant they had piles of clothes these young ones would never wear again. He asked me if I would help him price the items.

So with the season opener on the air, we were off and running -- well, sort of.

The first three boxes were full of newborn boy's outfits. We spent the first couple of innings examining each piece for condition, frayed edges and, most of all, stains. Each piece was held up, critiqued, and priced to sell at anywhere from $3 to $.25. At this rate, I figured we'd be done by the end of the game.

Then his wife began hauling in other boxes of clothing -- 25 total -- in all sizes, boys and girls.

Yikes!

At this onslaught, either the game would be a record-setting extra-inning affair going into the wee hours, or we'd have to drastically change our pricing technique. Undeterred by this tsunami of kids' clothing, we stepped into high tide and got into the flow of things: pants were all $1, shirts were 25 cents and, if something looked really good, they went for 50 cents.

We laid out eight tables of kids clothes and arranged the other miscellaneous stuff in an attractive setting. Then we waited.

Three days later, he had $700 firmly in hand, mostly by selling 25-cent outfits. Now that was a lot of clothes!

My friend announced the staggering good news to his wife with the admonition, "Let's not accumulate that much -- ever again."

And with that I say, gentlemen, that's good advice for us all.

You see, each one of us carries around boxes of "stuff." Some are filled to overflowing with regrets; some are marked as "bad decisions." Others say, "Stuff I don't feel good about." Maybe it's time we check out those boxes, and drag them (along with their contents) to the curb. After all, there's nothing there to be passed on or resold in them, it's purely garbage. We need to let go of this stuff and give ourselves a fresh start, with the resolution we will not accumulate that many items, ever again.

Good luck getting rid of some dead weight this week.

It's easy to hang on to all sorts of things that weigh us down. Getting rid of life's outworn physical objects is simple compared to some of the stuff that drags us down inside.

Anything bogging you down? Anything you've had good success in pitching to the curb? Any words of advice to others who may be burdened with things they need to unload?

You can pass along your words of wisdom by clicking here and telling us about it.

Rapid-Fire Judgments

Not too long ago, we asked unchurched people about the greatest barrier to going to church. Their most popular response was that "Christians are too judgmental."

Hearing that made me stop and take a good, hard look at myself. What do I think when I see someone living a different lifestyle than mine? What's my reaction to a person covered in tattoos or piercings? It might be my age, but I have to fight my gut reaction when I see someone who stands out from the conventional. I'm forced to remind myself that jewelry, tattoos, clothing, hairstyles, etc. are a matter of personal taste -- and not everyone needs to dress the way I do.

I wonder if I took a moment to sit down with that person, to look past all the surface stuff, to look him or her deep in the eye, what kind of person would I see. Isn't that what Jesus did? When other Jews saw a leper moving even vaguely in their direction, they hurled stones to drive them away; Jesus, on the other hand, walked up to them and touched them. The Judeans couldn't pass a tax collector sitting in his booth without spitting in disgust; Jesus talked and ate with them. He saw them for what they were, children of men who mattered to God.

Even when Jesus saw people who were clearly disobeying God's will like prostitutes, He acted differently. He didn't come at them in smug superiority. Instead, He came with dignity, with meekness, with kindness. After engaging them as people beloved of the Lord, He demonstrated His love and concern, forgave their sins, and sent them away with the words, "Go in peace, and sin no more."

Surely, Jesus didn't come to make people feel good about themselves and their sinful, rebellious lifestyles. If that was the case, why did He go to the cross? Why did He give His life as a ransom for sin? Why does the Bible call Him our "Savior," if there was nothing to save us from?

But that is precisely how Jesus wants to be known -- as our merciful Savior, rather than our stern Judge. When a woman was caught in the act of adultery, Jesus said, "'Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.' When they all turned and left, He asked, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?' She replied, 'No one, Lord.' Then Jesus said, 'Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more'" (John 8:7b-11).

My question is how can I more closely model Jesus Christ in my life? Is it first by recognizing the sinner in me? Is it seeing how incredibly patient, gracious, and merciful my God has been to me? Is it recognizing who I am, before I start considering who others are? Or maybe it's recognizing that on the Last Day Jesus will transform every believer to His own perfect image -- forever banishing the sinful nature from us so that we can be the perfect, delightful children God created us to be -- before Adam and Eve's first act of disobedience.

How can we now, especially during the season of Lent, show God's unbound, unlimited grace to others while not neglecting the fact that Jesus came to save us from something, for something?

How do you overcome any gut instinct you may have to shun those who appear different or weird and, instead, try to connect with them, even in the smallest ways?

Your insights matter. Please click here and share your suggestions.

I Feel Old When ...

Recently, there was a topic trending on Twitter. It was #IFeelOldWhen ....

Some of the tweets were pretty good:

#IFeelOldWhen "I still think of the 90s as ten years ago."

#IFeelOldWhen "My teenager says 'nice outfit' and rolls her eyes."

#IFeelOldWhen "I realized The Simpsons came out more than 30 years ago."

#IFeelOldWhen "I see my old friends, and they are all married with kids."

That last tweet appears to come from someone in their 20s or 30s, which makes it likely we start feeling the passage of time when we're still quite young. Elite athletes probably feel it more acutely than those of us who aren't. But eventually the relentless march of time is painfully obvious to each of us.

One tweet that struck me was from an M.D.:

#IFeelOldWhen "I get to work and all the corpses to autopsy are younger than me. Boy, does that make me sad."

We Americans go to war against time and aging, throwing billions of dollars a year into anti-aging creams and plastic surgeries, but sooner or later we all have to admit it's a losing battle. Sure, we can slow our body's aging a bit with good nutrition, rest, and exercise. And that is very good. It gives us more energy and, hopefully, healthy years to serve God by serving our family and neighbors. But ultimately when enough years roll along we too will grow frail and finally lose the battle.

"... You are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19b). That's what Adam and Eve's disobedience won for all of us. But that's what makes what God has done His creation so wonderful. Jesus' perfect obedience has won for us a glorious future, even as He is risen from the dead and lives to all eternity. One day all of us who trust His great salvation and look forward to His return will stand before Him in glorious bodies of our own. It will be a perfect, immortal body that will never wear out, grow old, get sick, or die.

Now that's some worth tweeting about!

Sure, from time to time in this lifetime all of us will feel old when ... but take heart, that feeling won't last forever.

Someone once said that youth is wasted on the young. It kind of seems like it is, but that doesn't mean there are not remarkable things left for us to do -- no matter what our age. Certainly, one of the most important things is remembering we have a God who will renew these old bones when He calls His faithful home to eternity.

I like that. In fact, I'm not feeling quite so old anymore.

What does growing older meant to you?

You can click here and tell us about it.

Some Things Never Change

It's easy to get lost in the reverie of yesteryear. Everything flies at us these days at breakneck speed, and before we're anywhere near processing it, it's already old news, as in way old news.

Recently, I was looking at some snapshots going back to the 1970s. A couple were of my uncle. He was standing at the counter of Jim's Finer Foods, a neighborhood delicatessen he owned and operated with his mom on Chicago's South Side. Looking out through the front screen door of this neighborhood institution, I could see the familiar Phillips 66 gas station across the street, a few trees, and a couple passersby.

Suffice it to say, that Chicago neighborhood has undergone some changes. Like my relatives and the gas station, the store is long since gone -- leveled to make way for a two-story apartment building that is also showing its age and decay. Fifty years is a lot of water over the dam when it comes to 20th-century changes. Fifty years ago, the Vietnam War was winding down; there was a national energy crisis here (so what's new?); Saddam Hussein was gaining power in Iraq; an earthquake in Guatemala and Honduras killed 22, 000 people; and people were buying brand-new AMC Gremlins.

And 50 years from now, who knows what we're capable of -- polar ice cap condominiums? The majority of cancers wiped out with childhood vaccinations? A continent-wide water system that provides fresh H2O to every nation in Africa? You can come up with your own scenario.

The forces at work in the world often seem beyond our control. We read the headlines and what we see is too kooky to be real, too disjointed and chaotic. But then we have to pull back and remember: through it all, the Good News of Jesus continues to go forth and, even amidst the chaos, is changing lives by transforming hearts.

It's good to know that (thanks be to God) some things never change.

What do you miss from yesteryear? Is the current age with its conveniences and technology always to be preferred over times gone by?

You can let us know by clicking here and telling us about it.

Our Quest to Know

"I can't wrap my mind around that." The first time I heard that phrase it bothered me a bit. I wondered what was wrong with the good old-fashion admission: "That just doesn't make sense"? But then I thought about it and the more I did, the more I liked the whole getting my head around it idea. It visualizes the drive we have to make sense of our lives and the world we live in.

We tend not to like unsolved mysteries. Wise Solomon had it right when he wrote, "It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out" (Proverbs 25:2). Most people want to know the reason things happen, and the more unclear a matter is, the more anxious they may become until they have a feasible solution.

Sometimes that curiosity leads us to wonderful discoveries. Scientists have long searched the workings of the natural world around us. When I read of new things they have discerned about the human body, outer space, or the inner workings of molecules, I'm spellbound before the handiwork of our God and Creator.

It's not just the magnificent touch of God's hand upon the universe that can leave us awestruck, too. Sometimes our own lives -- or the lives of those around us -- experience perplexing things like sudden death, life-altering accidents, suicides, or extreme violence, of some sort. In these instances, we want to wrap our minds around something that may not be understandable -- at least not from our conventional wisdom.

In a world so vast, there are people everywhere who are daily trying to make sense of tragic events in their lives. Natural disasters, criminal acts, out-of-the-blue accidents can all impact our lives and send a shockwave to our thinking. When they do, we may ask, "Why is God treating me this way?" or "What is God trying to tell me through this?" That can be a dangerous game to play, especially when we demand an answer to our question.

The truth is we may never know why this or that happened -- or why it happened to us. Seeking answers is natural, but when no answer comes, then what? God puts our mind-wrapping quest in perspective when He says, "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, declares the Lord" (Isaiah 55:8). This is a sobering thought ... and a liberating one, at the same time. Though we may demand answers from God to our life's circumstances, these may be answers that will never come -- at least not to our satisfaction. It is in these times that we most need to trust Him as a child trusts a loving parent.

What are some things you've tried to wrap your mind around? You can let us know by clicking here and telling us about it.

Getting Past Ourselves

Remember this Scripture? "The Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at Jesus' disciples, saying, 'Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?'" (Luke 5:30).

Last week, our men's group was wondering what this verse meant for us as followers of Jesus. What if a homeless alcoholic or a strung-out addict shows up in church next Sunday? What do we do? What happens when that person we've seen with the "spare change" sign wanders in, parking in the last row? Now what do we do?

It seems like Jesus would go right up and start talking with these people. What if we did that? Would we greet the intrusion as a golden opportunity to share a word of welcome or some other kindness? Would we get some grumbling and a few cold stares from those who don't want that kind of person in church? Would that limit our outreach? Would we not even bother?

Or what if one of us found out the two guys next door are a married gay couple? Jesus surely doesn't approve of that choice. But what would He do? Would He shun them to make it clear that they're going the wrong way? Well, we couldn't see Him doing that. We concluded He'd make their acquaintance, stand with them at the fence talking, or invite them over for a beer, and get to know them. We figured He'd work hard to go from a total stranger, with His two cents worth, to a close, trusted friend with priceless words to share.

Then someone in class brought up the instance of a buddy whose grown son is moving in with his girlfriend. The son's mom is all right with it because she loves her son and doesn't want to drive him away. One guy in class felt the mom's decision gave the impression that she condoned this. He said, "I wouldn't be able to approve that choice," but he confided that he wasn't sure if that was the right answer.

After a moment of quiet thought, we looked again at Jesus eating with the tax collectors and sinners. When Jesus associated with a sinner who was going the wrong way, like the Samaritan woman at the well (see John 4), He took time to make it clear that God has a very loving reason for forbidding certain things to us. They may be things we think harmless and innocent, but He knows their destructive potential. The bottom line: He cared too much to keep silent and watch those people bring harm and destruction on themselves, without a warning.

That started us on a discussion of the topic of living together as we examined our culture's view of it. What makes it look so attractive, and why does our culture buy into it? Someone suggested that living together seems sensible, like test driving a car. Actually, from that point of view, we agreed that it seems somewhat naïve and foolish for a couple to wait to live together until they are married. But then we stepped back to look at the heart of marriage from God's point of view. It is a man and woman's commitment to remain together no matter what: "for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death parts us." Once we put God's light on it, it was clear that living together is like learning to live in a relationship without any ultimate commitment. It's really a good way to condition ourselves for separation and divorce, instead of marriage.

Suddenly, we saw how we could change a discussion about living together away from a smug, self-righteous attack on a young couple's chosen lifestyle to a heartfelt discussion of genuine love and concern for their well-being. In our eyes, this seemed to hint at what Jesus was doing when He was eating with sinners.

Sometimes stifling the urge to say something righteous is the hardest thing to do. We all get impulses to voice our opinion, especially when we feel the ground we stand on is sure. Nonetheless, no one ever stood on surer ground than Jesus, and apparently even He was open to initiating conversations and launching friendships, even when some form of corrective admonishment might have been in order.

How about you? Do you resist the urge to be overbearing with your opinion, especially in situations where you might not know the parties that well? Do you instead look for openings where conversation might result and the beginnings of a connection can be made?

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Speaking to the Next Generation

Much has been said and written about male influence on the life of a boy or young man. If we're lucky, we know firsthand the positive influence men like our fathers and grandfathers have had in our early years. However, some of us grew up without a dad and, in those cases, there may have been other male mentors who took on that role. For some, it might have been an uncle, while others might have had a high school coach or even a neighbor in that position. No matter who that person was, they were ultimately instrumental in shaping our perspective on what it meant to be a man living out his various roles as husband, son, father, employee, friend, etc.

So we know the importance of boys having male role models. The question then is how can we be that person in the life of a young man without a male in his life?

As was recently pointed out to me, if you spend too much time with boys you may be looked at with some misgiving. And if you go up to children you're not related to or familiar with -- and sometimes even if you are -- you can appear to those who don't know you or the situation, with even sharper suspicion. So how can we effectively be the mentor our young men need, especially if there is no male in their life?

To that question I really don't have an answer. Every situation is different. However, there are some tried-and-true ways to be an influence in the life of a young man that shouldn't cause undue reservation.

One way is to be involved in structured, recognizable youth organizations like the Boy Scouts, Big Brother, and the like. These groups always need reliable men of good character to volunteer to be involved in the life of young men. As a scout leader or big brother, you can share your knowledge and your experience. Your life, words, and actions will also give these juniors a glimpse into what it is to be a masculine leader in today's society.

Many schools today would welcome a male to volunteer in the lives of their students. A visit to the principal's office will give you an idea of how and where you can get involved. For those active in a church, offering to teach at vacation Bible school or Sunday school are two ways you can impart your wisdom to students and enhance their lives.

The real trick to effective mentoring is to consider your strengths and put them into play. What are your aptitudes and interests? What skills or knowledge do you have that would benefit the lives of these young men growing up? How can you make a difference in the situation and circumstances of a younger generation that could learn a lot from you?

Ask around. Consult with other guys who already act as mentors. See what they have to say. There are plenty of ways to get involved and make a difference in the lives of others. You may find your particular talents, skills, and experience are just the right match for someone who's having a tough time navigating his way through the oft-times perilous waters of becoming a man.

Do you have any story (rewarding or challenging) about being a mentor you'd like to share? If so, you can let us know by clicking here and sharing your thoughts.