The Gift of Life

There are times when death comes so close that we feel his chilling breath. A young teenager dies tragically. A friend's wife loses her battle with cancer. We try to help those who's lives are shattered, but deep inside we tremble. We are reminded that life is fragile, always hanging by a thread.

I am forced to admit my secret fear. No matter how I lie to myself, I'm not in control. I can't make my time here eternal. I can't save my children, family, or friends. I can't save myself.

I will get home from a long trip in a few hours. I will hold my wife because I love her and because she is here and I can. I will hug my kids because we are all together and are lucky to have one another.

I cry for those feeling the pain of ending. I cry because I am lucky to live the life that I live. I cry because I remember the most important thing. Every day... every hour... every minute... is a gift.

The Narrow Road

There’s a dangerous intersection near the entrance of our neighborhood. The road changes from four lanes to two right before a popular left hand turn. Many drivers use the right hand shoulder to go around a car turning left. What he or she doesn’t realize is that the shoulder runs out just a few yards past the intersection.

Here’s what happens. Oncoming traffic clears, the stopped car turns left, and traffic starts to flow. The driver trying to go around finds that he’s running out of road and going too fast to merge back into the left hand lane.

I’ve driven up on a number of wrecks at that spot.

The local police have tried a few things to solve the problem. First they used a big “no passing” sign. It didn’t work. (Who reads signs anyway?) The next attempt involved hidden cop cars and tickets. Cars were pulled over every day, but the problem wasn’t solved.

A few weeks ago I noticed orange barriers in place. You can see them from far away. Even the most impatient driver has no choice but to merge left. The consequences are obvious. Problem solved.

I thought this was a good analogy of fatherhood. For most of my life, I thought being a parent meant using a list of rules. “Don’t do this!” and “Don’t do that!” If they didn’t listen, I was the mean cop, hidden behind the trees, ticket book in hand.

It wasn’t until my oldest kid became a teen that I realized no one likes the “ticket jockey” cop. My kids didn’t need to be more obedient, I needed to change.

What followed was me struggling to unlearn bad habits. “Parenting Teens with Love and Logic” by Jim Fay and Foster W. Cline helped me the most. I slowly learned that barriers, guide rails that my teenage son could see from a distance, worked much better then an angry father handing out tickets. These guide rails are the natural consequences that come from bad decisions. They go something like this.

Don’t come home at curfew, I don’t give you a ride to the next social event you want to attend. If you come home on time at night, I'll be glad to keep giving you rides to things you want to do.

Don’t reimburse me for the overage on your cell phone, I call the company and have the service suspended. If you keep your account balance up to date with me, then I'll happily keep your cell phone on.

Don’t get up and get ready for church on time, no after church eating out with the family. (Hope you like peanut butter and jelly!) Come with the family to church, and I'll buy you as much food as you can eat when we go out.

Don't get up for school on time and miss your ride, I guess you'll have to walk. (We only live a few miles from the school, so this isn't as sadistic as it might sound.) Get up on time and you can sit in comfort riding with the next door neighbor.

Don't choose to get up on Saturday and do your grass cutting, I guess you don't get any allowance/commission this week. (I'm sorry you want to go with friends to the movies and don't have any money. Don't come to me about it.) Get up and get your work done and I'll gladly pay you what we agreed to.

This concept turned into a parenting revelation. I used to struggle with a lot of anger directed at my teenage son. I felt like all his poor choices were him directly disobeying me. His rebellion felt personal. Our relationship reached a dangerous place because of my pride and insecurities. What I'm learning is that I need to become more of a coach on the sidelines instructing, guiding, and teaching. Learning to use the "guiderail" of consequences has helped me make this transition.

In my revised role, I try and point out dangerous intersections. I’m trying to teach him to think about the consequences that will follow bad choices. Anger is being replaced with sacrificial love. I’m no longer shouting and pointing my finger, but walking alongside encouraging as he makes his way. I’m not perfect by any means. But I’m trying.

The thing is, in the process of becoming a different kind of father, I’m learning more about God. No longer is He the mean tyrant in Heaven who yells and punishes and “keeps me in line” by threatening me with Hell. He’s the God who walks with his kids in the garden, laughing and teaching them about life. There is anger and frustration for sure (kids have a way of doing that to a parent) but this God doesn’t take it out on me. The mighty warrior becomes patient and kind, loving and gentle. This God sacrifices for me, helps me, lets me makes mistakes, and uses situations to teach me. He’s at my feet, washing away the dirt and grime from the narrow roads I travel. He’s cleaning me, preparing me to walk another day.

This is the kind of God that I can love. This is the kind of God that I can worship and obey.

This is the kind of parent that I hope to become.

Finding The Lost

I think this happened eleven or twelve years ago when my oldest, Jack, was two or three. He and I were spending a Saturday together. We went out for breakfast and then shopping in the men’s department in Belks to look around for some clothes. One minute he and I were walking together through all the men's dress clothes, and the next minute he's gone.

I started looking up and down the aisles. I thought he would be around the next corner. So I kept looking, but no Jack. I called out his name, but no Jack. Minutes went by, but no Jack. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. At this point I’m beginning to panic. My heart was pounding in my chest. I remember noticing that the salespeople and other customers were picking up on what was going on.

In a few seconds of time, I had a thousand year’s worth of thoughts. I was starting to freak out. I kept saying to myself, probably even out loud, “He was just right here…”

A few minutes later the salesclerk found him hiding in the middle of a clothes rack. Jack thought what he had done was funny, like we were playing a game, and to be honest, I was so relieved that I couldn’t get mad at him. I squeezed and hugged him tight, the salesclerk smiled politely like he’d watched this scene play out a hundred times, and the moms around just shook their heads empathetically. Life went back to normal.

Normal. Except that I’ll always remember the panic I experienced when I thought I had lost my child.

*

I had lunch today with a good friend. He and I have lived similar lives. We’ve both struggled with an image of God as the mean, vindictive overseer of Heaven. We’ve both run away and hid in the clothes rack. I think we’ve secretly hoped that God would love us enough to come find us.

The thing is that God does. And God did. He really does leave the many to come searching for the one. He really does grieve over those who are lost. He really did care enough for me (and for my friend and for all of us) to leave Heaven, come to this world, and explain this wonderful love to us. Jesus really did die on a cross to accept all the responsibility for my mistakes. Jesus really does love and forgive.

Then he was brought back to life and got to visit again with his friends. He shared a few more days with them, laughing and loving and having meals together. I love that part. It makes him even more real.

Jesus is proof that God's love is just as He had been saying. Deep and mysterious and wonderful. A love that cares, a love that finds, and a love that saves…

*

I’ll never forget that moment when Jack came walking out of the clothes rack. I grabbed him and hugged him. I found my son. My son...

I held him in my arms, carried him out to my car, and drove us both home.

Fathers Day Thoughts

Some random thoughts I had this Fathers Day.

I never appreciated how selfless my Father lived his life until I became a father myself. Thanks dad. Much love, your son.

Other then marriage, raising a teenager is the hardest thing I've ever done. Not because of who he is, but because of what I'm finding out about myself.

If God came and offered me a do-over and let me choose a life of fame and fortune or my six kids, I would have to politely tell God to keep His money. I'm already the richest man alive.

I'm thankful for all the fathers who are more experienced then mysef who have taken the time to teach and to help me. I'm learning to parent with less control and more love.

It really is better to give then to receive.

Being a father means to live life on yor knees serving and sacrificing. (And cleaning up accidents in the bathroom after Sunday night 'date night' with your wife.)

How forgiving should I be with my kids? How far did Jesus stretch out his arms for me on the cross...

If I ever had to choose between my life and the life of my kids, there would really be no choice.

The Courage of a Child

I'm posting this from a swim meet. Every year our kids swim on the neighborhood team. It's a family thing we do that kicks off our summer. You'd be surprised how much fun it can be. For the past two years our team has been undefeated and won the city championship.

Every age group has some kids who stand out. Its like they were born with gills and seem to fly effortlessly through the water. It's amazing. A lot of the young kids are fun to watch too. Many of them struggle with diving in and swimming the entire length of the pool unassisted. Sometimes they get stuck in the water and you can see them beginning to panic as they reach out and wrap their arms around the lane lines. But the parents and their teammates begin to cheer them on, and the coach shouts out his encouragement. Panic turns into courage, and stroke by stoke, the little kid makes his way to the finish line. The crowd always erupts with applause, mom and dad get a big, wet hug, and the little boy or girl walks away with a huge grin. It's a beautiful moment to tell you the truth.

I'm like that little kid sometimes, stuck in the water and beginning to panic. Things happen that scare me or cause my faith to waver. I'll have a bad day at work or watch as coworkers are let go because of the economy. Things happen with my kids and I worry about how I'm raising them and how well they're going to be prepared for a life outside of my home. I'll have one of those fights with Marybeth that drags on much longer then it should. Life comes at me from all different directions and I freeze up and worry that I'm going under.

In those moments, our Christian life becomes a fight. We're like the men in the parable of the talents. God gives us great gifts and wants us to live with courage putting them to use, not living in fear, burying those gifts in the ground. God isn't a cruel master waiting for me to screw up, but a loving Father who wants me to find the courage to fight against my fears and take my gifts and invest them in His service. I look deep into my heart and find the courage to let go of the rope and start to swim.

With my teammates cheering me on and my Coach yelling out His encouragement, I put my face in the water. Stroke by stroke, I make my way to the finish line. Breath by breath, I make my way home.

Cardboard Testimonies

This is a very powerful video. I thought about all the things I could have put on my piece of cardboard (thank you Jesus.)

I think it's ok to go to a church expecting to get something out of it. Jesus is present in our churches, with us as we worship. And he is a healer, restoring my soul and breathing life back into my heart. I worship Him with my brothers and sisters around me. It's beautiful.

But if I left it with just that, I would miss out on the main thing. God's love isn't something to keep, but rather something to be shared. Being a part of a church means that I help others learn of this great love. I serve my church so that this great love can be multiplied into the lives of the unbelieving, the brokenhearted, and the skeptic.

I should become like the disciples. He needs me to carry the loaves and the fishes to the tired and the hungry. I watch in fascination as Jesus keeps breaking off pieces of himself, giving life and nourishment to another... and to another... and to another... and on and on it goes. He never tires and is never empty handed.

God needs us all to serve in our churches so that people like those in the video, broken people just like me, can come and discover healing...

"I come to bring you life..."

Non-Fatal Failures

I was going through my briefcase today and stumbled across some business cards from the job I had two years ago. I won’t go into much detail, but that time of my life was very hard. The company was poorly run and had very low market share. The employees had a “poor us” mentality. It got so bad that I had a running joke about the company’s weekly sales meetings being a “let’s sit around and talk about how bad we got our butts kicked last week” session. Over time, I began to absorb the negativity of the environment. My self confidence began to reflect the performance of my peers. After eight long years, my professional life was affecting my personal life. I questioned my ability to be a good employee, husband, father, and friend.

One minute we’re cruising through life feeling like everything is great. Then out of the blue, something as insignificant as a business card reminds us of our past and knocks us off stride. I didn’t like pulling out an old business card and seeing my name next to that company’s logo. For a brief moment, I was that man from a few years ago, struggling with insignificance and low self esteem - a man so aftraid of making mistakes that he quit taking action.

I’ve always been my toughest critic. I’ve never taken failure well and have let mistakes have a huge impact on my self confidence. One of the things I’m learning is to be more graceful with myself. I’m learning that “non-fatal failures” are good for us all. What I mean by this is that mistakes are “ok.” If we’re not making mistakes, then we’re not working hard enough to make a difference in our jobs, in our families, in our churches, and in the “life” that goes on around us. When something goes wrong, and something always will, we need to remind ourselves that the sun always rises for another day. Life will give us another chance.

When life knocks us down, we need to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and try again.

A Small Town Boy

I did something this morning that I don’t normally do. I stopped on the way to work and had breakfast at a little restaurant in Mint Hill, a small town right outside of Charlotte. I got the big country breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, and biscuits with blackberry jelly. An early morning breakfast in a small town restaurant always reminds me of trips to Memphis, TN visiting my grandparents. My Grandfather would take me with him to his hardware store to work, and we’d stop at a little diner on the way in. It felt good when he pointed out that he had his grandson with him. All kids need and deserve a sense of “belonging.”

I like places where the faces are familiar. Marybeth and I grew up and still live in Matthews, NC, and as weird as this might sound in today’s fast paced culture, I wouldn’t want my life to be any other way. We’ve lived in the same house for eight years, travel the same routes, visit the same shopping centers, go to our favorite Chick-fil-A, and get coffee at our favorite Starbucks. Matter of fact, we’re about to move and not even leaving our neighborhood. Life is crazy and constantly changing, but there is comfort in the familiar.

There is of course the bad part of a “small town.” Sometimes people get to know you a little too well. People in close knit community hear one little nugget of info, add layers and layers of speculation to it, and repeat it to their friends as gospel. Unfortunate, but true.

All in all, though, I’ll take the bad with the good.

This kind of life might not make sense to some. Marybeth and I might sound like we’ve chosen to live our lives playing it “safe.” But we think our choices have been good for our family and good for our kids. They’re being raised in a little community they can call “home,” and we’re building a solid foundation in our tiny part of the world.

We’re sticking around and letting our roots grow deep.