There’s a world of difference between pleasure and happiness. Happiness is being surrounded by your children at the dinner table or holding onto your wife of 25 years as you drift off to sleep. Pleasure is something short term and while not all bad, should be carefully considered before you indulge.
Three questions that should always be asked are:
Can I repeat this pleasure indefinitely and be happy? (Using drugs for example would be an obvious “no!”)
Would I be willing for the person I love the most to see me doing this?
Will this pleasure be at somebody else’s expense?
Getting drunk or high always has a morning after. The typical affair only lasts three months; a happy marriage can last a lifetime. Are you willing to risk the happiness of your wife, your family, your kids, your friends, and perhaps even your job few minutes of pleasure?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Broken Trust
Whether you’re talking about infidelity, financial mismanagement, or abusing drugs and alcohol, broken trust is hard to restore. The worst thing to ask a betrayed spouse is to accept the “I’m sorry,” forgive the offender, and move on. Unfortunately, many times that’s exactly the advice we give. But as Steven Covey says, “You can’t talk yourself out of a problem that you behaved yourself into.”
Repairing damaged trust is very hard and takes lots of time. The spouse who’s had the affair or abused alcohol has the obligation to make him or herself completely accountable. Every part of their life - every minute of their day - becomes an open book. They must demonstrate their commitment to the relationship by being courteous, kind, and honest about everything. “You can trust me” gets real only when they’ve demonstrated a change of heart with a change of behavior, and posses a humility that flows from accepting the responsibility of their poor choices.
Repairing damaged trust is very hard and takes lots of time. The spouse who’s had the affair or abused alcohol has the obligation to make him or herself completely accountable. Every part of their life - every minute of their day - becomes an open book. They must demonstrate their commitment to the relationship by being courteous, kind, and honest about everything. “You can trust me” gets real only when they’ve demonstrated a change of heart with a change of behavior, and posses a humility that flows from accepting the responsibility of their poor choices.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Born To Win
One of the biggest mistakes I’ve made as a parent has been to demand that my kids “give me absolute obedience or else.” Discipline happened in the moment - whether I was thinking rationally or not. I was king, ruler of my domain, and things were going to go my way come hell or high water.
I’ve learned that to be an effective father, I must look far into the future. I have to mold my lessons around who I want my children to become. My discipline must instruct and teach. I have to remember that I’m shaping the heart of my child, not merely demanding an instantaneous result.
This means I have to be attentive. I must listen and learn and remember. Parenting is a difficult craft with no instruction manual. As Zig Ziglar says, “Most of us became parents the first time the first time.” It is extremely hard. But like most of life, if we could become masters of this craft in a short period of time, there would be no reward or satisfaction to it.
Our kids are born to win, but conditioned to lose because of the wrong input. What are you conditioning your child to become? It’s never too late to have a positive effect in your child’s life.
I’ve learned that to be an effective father, I must look far into the future. I have to mold my lessons around who I want my children to become. My discipline must instruct and teach. I have to remember that I’m shaping the heart of my child, not merely demanding an instantaneous result.
This means I have to be attentive. I must listen and learn and remember. Parenting is a difficult craft with no instruction manual. As Zig Ziglar says, “Most of us became parents the first time the first time.” It is extremely hard. But like most of life, if we could become masters of this craft in a short period of time, there would be no reward or satisfaction to it.
Our kids are born to win, but conditioned to lose because of the wrong input. What are you conditioning your child to become? It’s never too late to have a positive effect in your child’s life.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
"That Church is..." (Insert your comment here.)
Here's something about having six kids that still fascinates me.
Even though they all came from the same two parents and strongly resemble each other (look right), all six have very unique personalities. Each kid has different tastes and different styles. Different things make them laugh and cry. Some are quiet and reserved while others wear their emotions on their sleeves. One likes singing. One likes sports. One makes us all laugh with her wittier-by-the-day banter. Each one responds differently to me, and I’ve had to learn to communicate to each one in a unique way.
They’re all Whalens, all the same, yet all different with their own personality “quirks” that make them individuals. The older I get, the more I understand that our home is a fun place to be because of that. (Ok, most of the time. Some days Oscar the Grouch shows up.)
Most importantly, I don't pretend that they should all be the same just because they're part of the same family. My job as their father is to understand their individual personalities, discover their unique strengths, and find out what each one of them enjoys. Then I mold my "fathering style" around each one to help him or her grow into the person that God designed them to be.
They're all different. And I love that!
So the other day I ran into an old friend who's on staff at a church, and while we were talking, he made a derogatory comment about the church our family goes to. I don’t even think he realized what he said – he was just trying to be funny. But as I walked away, I couldn’t help but think about how common it is for those of us who are Christians to put down other churches whose style or mission we don’t agree with.
Small churches warn us of mega churches. Megapastors (is that a word???) criticize churches in their southern heritage. Southern Baptist leaders demonize a pastor in Seattle. We don’t agree with their music. We don’t like their style. This preacher’s going to hell for what he says. That preacher’s a heretic. And on, and on, and on.
While I do agree that we should defend the foundation of our faith, I think most of what we say and do makes God angry. He’s given us this whole big world to go evangelize, a world filled with people who've never had a Christian befriend them. Yet we huddle up and argue over petty issues. Instead of doing things of substance, we fight over style.
I wish Christians would accept that people have different personalities, likes, and dislikes. Not everybody dresses like you, sings like you, or worships like you. Not everybody likes your version of the Bible. Not everybody likes big churches, and not everybody likes small churches.
Can we not just accept our differences and recognize that we all are the body of Christ? We should love, honor, and support each other. We should quit fighting and get to the business of sharing the Gospel. Period.
As my kids have gotten older, my family gets pulled in different directions. We all go off and do our own thing, living life differently, using our unique gifts to succeed in this world. But at the end of the day, regardless of where we’ve been or what we’ve done, we all come back home. Marybeth makes a wonderful dinner and we share a meal, laughing and talking and celebrating our accomplishments.
As father, those are special moments. Nothing is better then seeing my children laughing, loving, and supporting one another.
Don't you think God feels the same way?
Even though they all came from the same two parents and strongly resemble each other (look right), all six have very unique personalities. Each kid has different tastes and different styles. Different things make them laugh and cry. Some are quiet and reserved while others wear their emotions on their sleeves. One likes singing. One likes sports. One makes us all laugh with her wittier-by-the-day banter. Each one responds differently to me, and I’ve had to learn to communicate to each one in a unique way.
They’re all Whalens, all the same, yet all different with their own personality “quirks” that make them individuals. The older I get, the more I understand that our home is a fun place to be because of that. (Ok, most of the time. Some days Oscar the Grouch shows up.)
Most importantly, I don't pretend that they should all be the same just because they're part of the same family. My job as their father is to understand their individual personalities, discover their unique strengths, and find out what each one of them enjoys. Then I mold my "fathering style" around each one to help him or her grow into the person that God designed them to be.
They're all different. And I love that!
So the other day I ran into an old friend who's on staff at a church, and while we were talking, he made a derogatory comment about the church our family goes to. I don’t even think he realized what he said – he was just trying to be funny. But as I walked away, I couldn’t help but think about how common it is for those of us who are Christians to put down other churches whose style or mission we don’t agree with.
Small churches warn us of mega churches. Megapastors (is that a word???) criticize churches in their southern heritage. Southern Baptist leaders demonize a pastor in Seattle. We don’t agree with their music. We don’t like their style. This preacher’s going to hell for what he says. That preacher’s a heretic. And on, and on, and on.
While I do agree that we should defend the foundation of our faith, I think most of what we say and do makes God angry. He’s given us this whole big world to go evangelize, a world filled with people who've never had a Christian befriend them. Yet we huddle up and argue over petty issues. Instead of doing things of substance, we fight over style.
I wish Christians would accept that people have different personalities, likes, and dislikes. Not everybody dresses like you, sings like you, or worships like you. Not everybody likes your version of the Bible. Not everybody likes big churches, and not everybody likes small churches.
Can we not just accept our differences and recognize that we all are the body of Christ? We should love, honor, and support each other. We should quit fighting and get to the business of sharing the Gospel. Period.
As my kids have gotten older, my family gets pulled in different directions. We all go off and do our own thing, living life differently, using our unique gifts to succeed in this world. But at the end of the day, regardless of where we’ve been or what we’ve done, we all come back home. Marybeth makes a wonderful dinner and we share a meal, laughing and talking and celebrating our accomplishments.
As father, those are special moments. Nothing is better then seeing my children laughing, loving, and supporting one another.
Don't you think God feels the same way?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Unconditional
I feel a connection to the Prodigal Son. It's my favorite story that Jesus told. The older I get, the more I learn to appreciate the parable from all three perspectives; the father, older son, and his younger brother.
There's also a fourth perspective that I've never heard mentioned. There was a group of servants who worked for the father's estate. I can imagine their thoughts as they watched the events of the day transpire. As the younger son grew up, they witnessed his unruly behavior. They watched him over the years treat his father horribly, then demanding his inheritance, taking off with all his things, and vowing never to return. They witnessed the pain of the father as he grieved for his lost child, and probably felt hot anger towards the prideful, arrogant younger son as he left the estate.
I know I would have.
And during the weeks and months after the son left, I imagine them observing the father, surprised by the pain expressed. Suprised to see him walking to the crest of the hill looking for his son's return. Surprised by his tears as another day's sun sets with no sign of the boy, the horizon empty of hope and expectation.
But then out of the blue, the son returns, and these silent observers are shocked. What they expected, what they secretly hoped for, was for the father's demonstration of anger, righteousness, and rejection. Instead, they witness a father pouring out unconditional love on a broken, humble man. Seeing a father's deep love moved them inside - amazement building as they watched the old man hug and kiss what had been lost... but now found.
They laughed and rejoiced at the mention of celebration.
The servants celebrated something themselves that night; something rediscovered in their own hearts. A love for the lost. A love for the brokenhearted. The discovery of love for people far from home who have lost hope and have nowhere to turn but back to their father.
I imagine myself as one of those men. I celebrate with my master late into the night, stomping out the last of the cooking fires... cleaning up the last of the eating utinsils... putting away all the mess. Then making my way back to my own little part of the compound and quietly sneaking into the room of my young children. The expression of love I witnessed today still burns deep in my heart. The tears come; intense thankfulness that always flows when one witnesses unconditional grace.
And as the night fades and I settle into bed, I know that something deep in me has changed. I have seen love - love in its perfect form. I watched love reach out with its mighty arms and wrap themselves around the object of its affection, covering a son in its mercy.
And I realize that I can love the way I saw love. I can forgive the way I witnessed forgiveness.
And even more importantly, a question that has burned inside begins to answer itself. The tears come once again. A Heavenly Father can love me the same way.
There's also a fourth perspective that I've never heard mentioned. There was a group of servants who worked for the father's estate. I can imagine their thoughts as they watched the events of the day transpire. As the younger son grew up, they witnessed his unruly behavior. They watched him over the years treat his father horribly, then demanding his inheritance, taking off with all his things, and vowing never to return. They witnessed the pain of the father as he grieved for his lost child, and probably felt hot anger towards the prideful, arrogant younger son as he left the estate.
I know I would have.
And during the weeks and months after the son left, I imagine them observing the father, surprised by the pain expressed. Suprised to see him walking to the crest of the hill looking for his son's return. Surprised by his tears as another day's sun sets with no sign of the boy, the horizon empty of hope and expectation.
But then out of the blue, the son returns, and these silent observers are shocked. What they expected, what they secretly hoped for, was for the father's demonstration of anger, righteousness, and rejection. Instead, they witness a father pouring out unconditional love on a broken, humble man. Seeing a father's deep love moved them inside - amazement building as they watched the old man hug and kiss what had been lost... but now found.
They laughed and rejoiced at the mention of celebration.
The servants celebrated something themselves that night; something rediscovered in their own hearts. A love for the lost. A love for the brokenhearted. The discovery of love for people far from home who have lost hope and have nowhere to turn but back to their father.
I imagine myself as one of those men. I celebrate with my master late into the night, stomping out the last of the cooking fires... cleaning up the last of the eating utinsils... putting away all the mess. Then making my way back to my own little part of the compound and quietly sneaking into the room of my young children. The expression of love I witnessed today still burns deep in my heart. The tears come; intense thankfulness that always flows when one witnesses unconditional grace.
And as the night fades and I settle into bed, I know that something deep in me has changed. I have seen love - love in its perfect form. I watched love reach out with its mighty arms and wrap themselves around the object of its affection, covering a son in its mercy.
And I realize that I can love the way I saw love. I can forgive the way I witnessed forgiveness.
And even more importantly, a question that has burned inside begins to answer itself. The tears come once again. A Heavenly Father can love me the same way.
Monday, March 30, 2009
No Matter What
Want to find out what the five key things were that Marybeth and I called our "No Matter What's" when we were getting out of debt? Go here and find out!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Learning to Live Financially free
It's here! Marybeth and I have recently published a book with Kregel called "Learning to Live Financially Free." In it, we tell our story of working our way out of $99,000 worth of credit card, car, student loan, and IRS debt. There’s also a ton of practical stuff we’ve learned like making a budget and teaching your kids about finances.
We also have a new blog! Come visit us at http://www.marybethandcurt.blogspot.com/ to get daily updates, tell us your story about getting out of debt, or to email us your questions. We look forward to hearing from you!
We also have a new blog! Come visit us at http://www.marybethandcurt.blogspot.com/ to get daily updates, tell us your story about getting out of debt, or to email us your questions. We look forward to hearing from you!
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