Breaking bad

On Friday, April 24, my wife had a sonogram checkup for our new baby. Usually, I am able to go to these appointments with her. Each session is a celebration as we see the life growing inside Kara on the monitor and hear the baby's heartbeat through the speakers. I enjoy watching our child grow through the different stages of pregnancy, until eventually we meet face to face on the day of their birth. Unfortunately, events conspired so that I was not able to go with her. She called me after the appointment, and was a little shaken up. It turns out the tech had some trouble finding the baby's heartbeat, and mentioned some irregularities. Since we've experienced the loss of a child through miscarriage, things that seem small to others are not to us. The OB checked Kara and the baby, looked at the sonogram, and said everything looked fine, but did mention that we could have a blood test done to make sure everything was okay. As Kara and I discussed it, we decided to have the test, called Verifi, performed. We would know more about our baby and the gender weeks earlier than expected.

A few days later, Kara dropped me off at the airport for my flight to Kenya. I was doubly excited since I was headed to a new place, and would return to news of a boy or girl. The days went by quickly, and I deplaned on a Thursday morning, expectant to hear news of my baby. I discovered that the doctor's office had not called yet, but was not worried. Friday morning rolled around with no call from the doctor's office. We moved through the day, waiting to see the OB's number pop up on our caller id. Finally, around 4 pm the phone rang. Our OB was on the other end, and she was very nice, but I could sense hesitation in her voice.

She was very gracious, courteous, and professional as she informed us that our baby had tested positive for Trisomy 21, otherwise known as Down's Syndrome. She immediately informed us that everything else seemed good, the tests weren't 100% accurate, and there was a small chance that it could be a false positive. As we ended the phone call, emotions coursed through both of us. Excitement about our child. Gratitude that the baby was healthy and yet some sadness at the news that our child most likely has Down Syndrome. Immediately, worries arose. "Will we be able to meet the needs of our child?" "What if the baby has heart or kidney problems, or another serious defect?" "What will I do if someone mocks or ridicules our child?" "Will our little one be able to live independently?" "Will she be accepted by others, including extended family members?" The fears, worries, and selfish concerns all swarmed in my head and heart.

Psalm 127 tells us, "children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward." In Psalm 139 one reads, "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

Through the evening, we called our parents and family members to tell them the news and ask for prayers. There were tears, reassurances of love and support, and joy over the life of another grandchild! That night, Kara and I spent a few moments praying to the Lord, thanking him for the blessing of a new child, her health, and asking that she be protected from any dangers faced by Trisomy 21. We also asked that, if possible, our child could be healed and not have Down's Syndrome. Yes, it sounds and feels selfish for us to pray that, but we're in good company. In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus did pray that if it was possible, God’s wrath could pass from Him, but he asked for God’s will to be done. That’s what we will continue to pray.

Did we receive bad news that Friday morning? Some may consider it bad news, but we will rejoice in the gift of a child. In our society’s rush for perfection, we lose sight of the importance of all people, made in God’s image. People are judged by their contribution, their production, and their ability. But that’s not God’s ideal for us; the ideal is found in our being. That’s why salvation is through grace, not by any work we do. With all of our foibles, imperfections, and weirdness, God views us as valuable because we are. Christians are his children, and completely accepted by him (check out Colossians 1:21-22). You see, what bad news was for One, turned out to be good news for others! Our new child, a gift from the Lord, is good news! We will rejoice!

Look on the bright side

Runners and marathoners place stickers on their cars to let everyone know how far they have run in competition? You may have seen the little white ovals that say 13.1 or 26.2 and not realized what they were for, but now you know. The other day I saw a meme on Facebook that had the 13.1 and 26.2 stickers, but if you looked at the fine print, it read “13.1 hours: my longest Netflix binge,” and “26.2: the most oreos I’ve eaten in one sitting.” While I’m not quite the definition of this meme, I can certainly relate to it, and am a lot closer to the Netflix binge than I want to be! I justify it by thinking to myself that Netflix is cheaper than running. Read that again; Netflix is cheaper than running. I’m not talking about a gym membership, but running down the roads and trails. That might be free, but running gear isn’t! Granted, I haven’t put pencil to paper, but I think the per show cost of Netflix is cheaper than the per mile cost of running!

Needless to say, I watch Netflix. For those of you who have known me a long time, you know that I enjoy science fiction, particularly Star Trek. I grew up watching the original series most afternoons, then Star Trek: The Next Generation. For a span of several years, new series spun off of the Star Trek name right and left. I tried watching one or two, but just couldn’t get into them, and ended up dropping my commitment to Star Trek. Maybe I was a Trek purist, or I obtained my driver’s license and found better things to do. Either way, for several years I didn’t even think about Star Trek.

Then Netflix came along with instant streaming. Lo and behold, one day I found Enterprise in my suggestions menu. I decided to watch it, and enjoyed the series. I slowly worked my way through it all the way to the end of the series. (I’ll admit that I thought it was actually pretty good, unlike a lot of the other Trek spin offs that are as cheesy as the original.) Needless to say, over the past few years I’ve worked my way through Enterprise, Voyager, and the Star Trek movies. (I tried watching the original series and The Next Generation again, but just couldn’t do it. Too much cheesiness, I guess.) I am finally watching Deep Space Nine, and enjoying the series. The Dominion/Federation war has just begun, so don’t spoil it for me if you know how it all ends.

Why wasn't he ever on Star Trek?

Needless to say, most Star Trek series have the same characters. The strong commanding officer, the straight man, the single ladies’ man, the gung ho security type, the ultra-handy engineer, the pessimist, and the eager youngster. On DS9, the pessimist is the station’s chief security officer, Odo. He’s always the negative one of the bunch, finding the “cloud in the silver lining,” as one character told him while I watched the other night.

I’ll admit my guilt: I’m really good at finding “the cloud in the silver lining.” I don’t know if it’s my problem-solver attitude, a learned behavior, or just a pessimistic nature, but I have to battle against it. No one wants to be around a wet blanket, including the wet blanket! So I work to “keep it light.”  That can be hard to do in today’s world. The news revolves around the latest perceived crises, public figures of all stripes are proclaiming doom and gloom, and social media is littered with bickering dialogues of extremism. Fortunately, the world goes on as people everywhere live their daily lives, going to school, work, raising families, socializing, and participating in community activities. (If there were ever an argument for hope and the persistence of the human spirit, that alone is it. Media and public figures can drum up crises all day long, but the rest of us have to work for a living and keep society moving.)

You have to find some relief somewhere! Laughter is good for both the soul and body. According the pundits, there isn’t a lot to laugh about, so sometimes you have to create your own. Therefore, my dog has a fan page. The Pete Holmes Fan Club currently has 34 fans, and posts every few days. I use it as a form of stress relief, creating some opportunities for laughter and fun. Also, Pete is the coolest dog ever. Weenie dog, happy attitude, cute and snuggly, somewhat playful, and as laid back as can be. I like to post some funny pictures, dachshund jokes, a little cultural commentary, and of course, pictures and comments from Pete himself (or at least my imagining of Pete’s comments).

Some people like to laugh at me for creating a The Pete Holmes Fan Club, but I don’t mind. The point is to create laughter, and it’s doing that. Proverbs 17:22 tells us “a cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” In other words, laugh! Laugh long, laugh loud, and laugh hard! King David, who saw some hard times, even wrote in Psalm 16 “in Your presence there is fullness of joy.” (He’s talking about God’s presence, in case you didn’t know.) In a sense, when we laugh with joy, we align ourselves with God’s will. We show that we trust Him; and His sovereignty; and his plan for our life.

When is the last time you had “fullness of joy?” Maybe today would be a good day to look on the bright side.

The Winner

“I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of great respect, they don’t even invite me.” Dave Barry, a syndicated columnist and Pulitzer winning journalist, is noted as saying. In my earlier posts about speaking up and dialoguing with others, especially those of opposing viewpoints, I noted that we must be able to have actual conversations with others, and seek to understand their side before we begin to bash it.  Unfortunately, most of us either a) retreat into silence when confronted or b) use violence to dismiss and condemn other viewpoints. (Find out your style here.) For all my talk about shyness and timidity, I realize that I pride myself on winning arguments, and am guilty of these two extremes (and all points in between) when interacting with others. If I am unsure of my knowledge on a topic, I will be silent. If I am confident in my knowledge, I will go in swinging (metaphorically) forcefully dropping facts and opinions to cause the other person to retreat into silence.

I often use these tactics when I am caught by surprise. Many of you know that I am headed to Kenya in less than two weeks, and I am set to go no matter what happens. I committed to the trip several months ago, and have been advertising it on Facebook and through emails, asking for people to pray, give towards the trip, or share the pictures so that others can do so. Most of the feedback I have received concerning the trip has been positive. At least until the shooting at Garissa University in Kenya on April 2. Upon seeing the news, my wife immediately emailed me, asking how close that was to where I would be staying while I was in country. (You can read about our exchange here at my wife’s blog, if you’re interested.) That did not surprise me. (I will admit that being a husband and #girldad made me think a little harder the dangers involved.) As a matter of fact, I spent the next few days fending off queries from my family about my trip, not realizing they were only expressing concern for me. I was busy defending my theology, and my pride. I was also winning, at least in my mind.

Questions from my family did not surprise me one bit. They’re supposed to be concerned for me, after all. It did surprise me, however, when Sunday morning rolled around. Easter Sunday morning, to be exact. (If you know what Easter is about, the irony should not escape you either.) I walked into church like any other Sunday morning and began making my way around the building, greeting people and preparing for the day. To my surprise, one of the men of my church almost jumped me as I passed through a doorway. “Trey,” he said, “You’re not going to Kenya now, are you?” “I most certainly am.” I replied confidently. “Jesus told us to go, and unless the organization I’m travelling with cancels the trip, I’m going.” I was really surprised that someone else, a fellow follower of Christ, would have that attitude. Even though I know it exists, I have never had people say I should not travel to tell people about Jesus. (That, in itself, is not so much a condemnation of the church, but more a reflection of the easy life I have led as a believer in Jesus.) We discussed it some more, with my companion assenting to my affirmation that we are told to go to the ends of the Earth, no matter the cost. I think I even threw in the quote from Tertullian (probably the Major John Reisman  of the early Church; except maybe without the gun) “the blood of the martyrs is the lifeblood of the church” in the conversation. (As if that settled everyone’s nerves who was listening!) I had “won” another conversation!

 A few days later I was at a meeting, waiting for it to start and chatting with others. Another woman walked in and said, “Trey! I heard you’re going to Kenya soon. Is that true?!” I replied in the affirmative, and she said, “You can’t go! Those people over there are butchering each other, and you may be killed or hurt. They’ll kill someone just for the fun of it.” I don’t know what caused me to light up more: “those people” or the blanket statement concerning another people group, automatically condemning them. Immediately, my hackles were raised, and I was about to start in on her (I sure am brave! Verbally jousting with a woman who was only speaking out of concern for me) when a passerby quietly interjected into the conversation and said, “The Bible tells us to go, we go, and Jesus goes before us.”

If you’ve read my post about encouragement before, you’ll know I believe that some people are mouthpieces for the Holy Spirit. They will say things that ring true without knowing what they are saying, and that wisdom can only come from above. This man is one of those people, and someone whom I greatly respect. Almost immediately, the tension bled itself from the air, my hackles laid back down, and she looked a little surprised. In a matter of seconds, the situation had gone from tense to calm. She looked at him, then at me, and said, “You know something? He’s right. I’m glad you’re going to Kenya to serve and train other pastors.” I had not even opened my mouth, and her attitude completely changed (so had mine). Throughout breaks in the meeting, she would say encouraging things about my trip to others, surprising me with the sincerity of her words and tone. All because of one person’s words of persuasion, not force.

In Proverbs 25 one finds this little gem: “A word spoken at the right time is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” In other words, it is very valuable! I write this post not to make myself sound like some verbal J.J. McQuade, practicing my judo chop words on everyone I encounter, but to show that I often need to recover old ground in my life, so that I can make improvement. Not self-improvement, but other-improvement. (Yes, I made that up!) If you find yourself in these stories, I apologize for my words of arrogance and pride to you, and admit that I should have recognized the concern and value you see in my life (one of you even told me that, but I missed it at the time), and have (and see) those same things for you in return.

Do I feel strongly about missions? YES, but my wife can express the same feelings I have concerning missions much more eloquently than I can, and you can read her blog to discover them. So for the next week or so, I will try to drop my black-and-white attitude about missions, set aside my distaste for the effeminate church culture that values safety over mission we find ourselves in today, and work to bring unity into the Church, not division. After all, St. Paul the Apostle, the Han Solo of Christianity, when he spoke to the elders of the Ephesian Church for the last time, did not reprimand them, but spoke to them in a way that brought closure, unity, and peace. Paul wasn’t trying to win the conversation; even in disagreement he sought to keep the conversation open. So, instead of trying to win conversations, I’ll work to set aside my pride and seek to honor others who don’t share my view. Will you join me?

The Cowardly Lion

For most of us, politics and government are things we don't think about until we file taxes or see flashing red lights in our rear view mirror. Sure, we put bumper stickers on our car, vote in elections (hopefully), watch our respective politically aligned news program, and complain about the current president (whether we voted for him or not). In reality, though, most of us operate day to day without a thought about personal rights, government's role in society, and personal responsibility.

That is, until we join Facebook. Then it's an all-out offensive of sharing posts, opinions, stacking facts like cards in a deck, name-calling, unfriending someone who's too extreme, friending another whose posts we admire, and generally having a free-for-all. This is a battle that I have been content to quietly observe for years now, even though I am keenly interested in politics and culture.

Why? Because I'm a coward who knows only two extremes when it comes to disagreements: fight or flight. Sure, I enjoy attending conferences and reading political philosophers, but I don't really enjoy debate unless it's with people who think like I do, or people for whom I have a deep respect and a relationship with. Either way, debates, for me, are few and far between. 

I was raised to be a conservative who unquestionably clung to his Bible (which I never read), his God (who I didn't follow), and his guns. Anyone who didn't agree with me was a free-loading liberal idiot, and I didn't even want to be associated with them. Then I grew up (a little bit), my worldview expanded, and I was very libertarian. I firmly believed in personal responsibility and the fundamental human right to be absolutely, unquestionably, face-palm stupid. Let every man do as he wishes, as long as it's in the privacy of his own home and doesn't hurt anyone else!  

But then I started following Christ in a very serious way and reading my Bible. I discovered that God is very concerned about treatment of the poor, the down-and-out, the widow and the orphan. In others words, the fringes of society. I struggled for years to settle these concepts in my mind, and I began reading political philosophy and economics, as well as theology. I did it mostly to learn, not to reshape my mind or change my political views.

I did realize a few things. First, a society does need a certain amount of law in order to flourish, and that law may infringe upon our guaranteed human right to stupidity when absolutely necessary. Some type of moral framework is necessary for individual rights to be protected, and sometimes the law must force someone to recognize the dignity of the human person, even if they don't recognize it themselves. 

All this to say that I'm one of the few people I know who has actually become more "liberal" as I've gotten older, unlike many who become more conservative. 

But what does all this have to do with Facebook? Needless to say, over the years I've collected a number of friends of all stripes and creeds. I've read post after post in which they proclaim their stances (even ones I disagree with) and quietly sought to understand their point of view.

Enter my friend Victor. He's a guy who helps his parents with their small business (the backbone of individual liberty and a free society!) on his days off, which means that most Fridays he comes through the church offices as he cleans the place. For some reason, we've always covered these deep topics (even hot-button issues) and tried to uncover all sides, viewpoints, etc... I don't know that we ever reach a conclusion, but I enjoy the conversations we have. Even when we disagree, I still like Victor and respect his opinion. I've mentioned several times we should get a group together to discuss ideas and cultural issues in a setting of respect and discovery of other's viewpoints without judging them.

So on Good Friday afternoon, while the office was closed, I snuck in to work on sermons for an upcoming mission trip. Since it was a holiday, I didn't think anyone else would be there. While I was sitting there, typing away, the lights come on and in strolls Victor. It had been several months since I'd seen Victor, so we greeted one another and he said, "Dude, I'm glad I ran into you! I want to get your opinion on the stuff in Indiana." We began to discuss the issue of religious freedom, discrimination, totalitarianism, civil disobedience, and the like, both on opposite sides, yet having a civil, even fun discussion. At some point in most conversations we have, one of us will ask how we can disagree on things, yet still have these really cool conversations. The other usually answers that it's because we respect each other's opinion and viewpoint and are seeking to understand, not condemn. Of course, we bring the discussion to the national level, wondering why America seems to be so divided.

Last Friday we stumbled upon the answer: As a nation, we've lost the ability to dialogue with one another in a civil way. We're so busy "asserting our rights" that we don't even listen to opposing viewpoints; we smear, slander, and insult those who disagree with us. Instead of looking for the common ground, we immediately dismiss ideas that are foreign or scary to us. Division always leads to isolation, and isolation to destruction. (Not to pull out my “follower of Jesus” card, but that’s biblical. See Proverbs 18:1) That's where we're headed as a society if we lose the ability to dialogue with one another.

I have a good friend who was a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) in his working career. I like help him with farm chores on the weekends, in essence bartering counseling for labor. The last time I was there, I was telling him about problems I have with individuals whom others have written off 9me. He made a statement that stuck with me. He said, "Whenever we encounter a problem, we have two choices: we can either move closer to it or we can move away from it. Generally, problems are solved when we move closer to them." (At the time, it didn't seem like the profound statement it was.) 

This is the deal: for years, I've been watching my Facebook feed, quietly posting my jokes and family pictures while ignoring other's posts that I disagree with. Fortunately, my friend Victor helped me by forcing me into the open. Monday night, he posted a video of a political debate from 1986, tagged me and another guy, then asked, "What do you think?" YIKES. I'll tell you what I thought, "I'm supposed to answer this? In public, where others can read it and judge my opinion?" Then I thought (because I read it somewhere), "A philosopher who never debates is like a boxer who never spars; because he's not one!" So I began typing. Not with the intent of winning, but with the intent of dialogue and discovery. Of pressing into the "problem," and moving forward in respect. It wasn't so bad, and I didn't find my inbox full of scathing comments from others. (I even put my opinion in another conversation between two friends with extremely different opinions than mine.) I'm sitting here a few hours later, still alive, and doing fine.

So back to RFRA. (I know it's old news by now.) Do I believe in the right of free association for both service providers and consumers? Yes! Do I believe hateful discrimination is okay? No, but I think we need to have a conversation about what discrimination really is. Do I think we're moving towards a totalitarian government? Yep, but that's the nature of any bureaucracy, especially one with an army. Do I think that Jesus, if he were a baker today, would make a cake for a homosexual wedding? Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't, but I do think a) he would have kept the lines of communication open and b) called sin what it is: sin. 

But one thing I do know. Jesus, instead of dismissing people, ignoring opposing viewpoints and pointing fingers, would have moved closer to the problem, built a relationship, and spoken truth into the situation. After all, he did come from Heaven to earth, setting aside his position and authority, and died for humanity's sin, to solve the problem. Did I mention that he was wrongly convicted and given a punishment greater than the crime he was convicted of? You might even say he was discriminated against.

So maybe we need to quit pointing fingers, throwing out arguments, and enter into honest, civil dialogue with fellow human beings who are made in the image of their creator. Several on both sides on the aisle (no pun intended) are already doing it. I’ve decided to join the conversation! How about you?

Letting go

Last Thursday morning I found myself standing in the terminal wearing a diaper bag backpack and holding my daughter's "manket" as a bunch of college guys in suits walked by and looked at me like I had a third eye. "Give it a few years, boys," I thought to myself as they strolled on, probably not thinking about much more than the flight ahead and their destination later that day. I chuckled to myself as I thought about comments I would have made seeing a guy like me standing by himself in the airport when I was in college. How times can change, and how different life is that we expect it to be when we're young. So how did I find myself in Love Field at 5:30am on a Thursday morning?

A few hours earlier, I rolled out of bed at 3:15am and into the shower. My mother-in-law had knee replacement surgery a few days before, and Kara and the kiddos were flying to Atlanta to help Kathy with her recovery. While I am all about my kiddo seeing her grandparents as much as possible, I was a little bemused at the thought of nurse Kate taking care of Marmee. Having been the subject of my three year old daughter's "care," I can easily tell you that while she has good intentions, she's a long way from fulfilling any form of the Hippocratic Oath. All that aside, I loaded the luggage, changed Jake's diaper, loaded his car seat, and everyone climbed in for the ride to Love Field.

The weather was good, traffic was clear, and I was confident we would arrive in plenty of time for my family to check in, make it through security, and board the plan. Surely a Thursday morning 6 am flight couldn't be that full! As we drove towards the airport, traffic slowly became heavier. By the time we turned into Love Field, it was bumper-to-bumper, with a wreck in the way. The adults in the truck were sweating it a little, but Kate was her usual happy-go-lucky self, not worried about a thing. (Ah, the life of a three year old.) Since we were late, we decided to splurge and use the valet parking right by the ticket counter. We pulled up, valets came running, and we deposited kids, luggage, stroller and carseats on to the curb. We walked into the terminal, and I began to worry a little bit because the ticket counter lines were loooong. 

Playing it cool, we hopped in line, and thanks to Southwest Airlines' great customer service, within a few moments or so we stood in front of a smiling clerk. After the customary greeting and a few questions, she looks at me and asks, "Would you like an escort pass, Mr. Holmes?" I thought they had stopped allowing escort passes, so I was a little surprised. Thinking of the small pocketknife in my pocket (where else?) plus every conspiracy theorist horror story about being held by the TSA for days with only water and a granola bar, I stammered a little bit while my wife looked at me expectantly. Being my chivalrous married-for-six-years-self, I said, "No thanks, I can't today." Kara looked surprised, and asked, "Why not?" My mind immediately thought, "Holy cow, woman, when your habitually pistol packing, knife carrying husband declines the escort pass in the airport, YOU GO WITH IT." My lips said, "Well.....I need to get to work and traffic was heavy...." The clerk said, "Oh, you have a pocketknife? Just leave it here and you can get it on your way out." Problem solved. (WELCOME TO TEXAS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.) 

My pass was printed, and we headed to security, only to run into another LONG LINE. (Surprise!) I could tell Kara was a little anxious, and my mind was racing as I wondered what other contraband I could possibly have on me. Even though I had nothing on me but my wallet, glasses, and hearing aids, I still had this nervous fear. I guess I have a guilty conscience or something, but I always get nervous going through security. Meanwhile, Kate is wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, excited about flying on a plane and seeing her Marmee and Gramps. The agent in the pre-pass line waves to us, calling us forward from the rear of the line because we had little ones, and put us right through. I was waiting for all sorts of questions about why my boarding pass was blank, where I was travelling, etc... and for them to whisk us away to a small room with no windows and 1 bare bulb for the bottles of formula in the baby bag. (I think I saw one too many movies like Enemy of the State when I was growing up.) Every agent was super nice and really helpful, helping us get all the carry-on luggage and kiddos through with no problem. I have never had a bad experience with airport security, but I have to say that when we were through I thought to myself, "That was the best trip through security I've had. I'm taking the kids along every time!"

We stopped for moment to put our shoes and belts back on and gather everything up. We realized we had time to grab breakfast before Kara and the kids boarded. Kara went to Whataburger, but the Princess wanted Chick-fil-a, so Daddy took her to Chick-Fil-A. Surprisingly, the line moved slowly and we had to wait long enough that Kate became antsy. (They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and my daughter inherited my metabolism, which means she gets hangry.) Kara walked up, and Kate was standing (standing being a relative term) about 6 feet away from me when she tripped herself, fell down, jumped up, and said, "Daddy, don't push me!" Speaking of apples and trees, my parents still laugh and tell stories about me as a little kid doing the same thing many times. I haven't done that as an adult, so Kate couldn't have learned it from me, which is an argument (albeit a small one) for nature versus nurture. Either way, I almost fell down myself when she said that.

In the midst of this, they called my name and we picked up Kate's order. Mind you, we were watching the clock and could see that our gate had begun boarding. Kate was extremely concerned about drinking her orange juice so Kara handed it to her. We entered the boarding area, and a Southwest attendant saw us, came over, and waved us to the front of the line. (Another reason to love Southwest and travelling with little ones.) As we hit the jetway entrance, I pictured a nice goodbye consisting of hugs and kisses from my wife and daughter. The ideal is often not reality, however, and when we walked up to the desk Kate jumped from her stroller, orange juice in hand, and helped Kara present her boarding pass to be scanned. I stood there in shock, arm outstretched waving goodbye, as my little girl strolled through the jetway door without so much as a look back. My Daddy heart was breaking, and I managed to say, "Bye Kate! Daddy loves you!" as she disappeared around the corner. Kara hurriedly gave me a smooch as I tried to hug Jake and moved off to catch up with Kate. Just like that, I was alone.

Being the introspective soul that I am, all this occurred in slow-mo, and what I saw as a Kate strolled jauntily off into the wild blue yonder was an image of my little girl 15 years from now, flying off to the other side of the globe with barely a goodbye for dear old Dad. As I walked back through the terminal I had this turmoil inside of me. Part of me was torn that my daughter was so independent, but the other part of me was horrified at the thought that she might have run halfway down the jetway, turned to look for me, realized that I hadn't followed her in and wasn't going on the flight, then broke down crying. The agony of being a girldad is frightfully heavy at times. (Not "girlydad", but "girldad.") (I'm coining that term, by the way.) 

I strolled on through the terminal, past the exit, the baggage claim, and out to my truck, as the crowds swept past me going the other way. I thought to myself, "Parenting is tough. It's not for sissies, but for the bold, the determined, and the courageous. Especially when you have a little girl." Somewhere, I have seen a quote that says "There's no experience in the world like having a child. It's like having your heart walk around outside your body." That is capital "T" truth! It hasn't been so bad having a little girl, but this past year is killing me, and the following years will do so in even greater detail. But it's worth every heartache I can ever have. Watching my little one, I can see the woman she is going to be. Strong, independent, and beautiful, just like her Mom. 

I'll spend the rest of my life letting go of my little girl as she matures and becomes an adult. That vision will spur me on, keep me going, providing experiences and challenges for her through these next two decades. Because I can see the end of the process. That's why God can look at us, with all of our miserable, selfish ways, and take delight in us. (If you're His child.) Because he knows what we'll eventually become and can see the end result, even when it angers him, saddens him, and breaks him in two emotionally. Romans 8:28 says, "For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers." 

Earlier, in Romans 1, Paul describes humanity's sin, noting how men turned from worshiping their creator and began to worship parts of creation. He wrote that God gave men over to their worthless minds, to do what is morally wrong. To sin over and over again, defiling creation, degrading the dignity of other humans, and continually rejecting God. It is easy to ask how a loving God could allow this to happen. Because, in creating men in his image, he gave them knowledge and choice. In his infinite knowledge, God knew that some would turn back to him, and regain the image they were made in. In Paul's wordiness, he takes several chapters to conclude his thoughts begun in Romans 1, but he eventually does. He notes that all have sinned, and acknowledges that he, like his readers, still struggles with sin. But he, being one who submitted his life to Jesus, will be made into his likeness, regaining his full humanity! That's why he could write Romans 8! God rejoices in his children, because he knows the end result!

Fast forward almost exactly one week from Kate strolling onto the jetway without so much as a wave goodbye. I stood right at the line of the security barrier, watching as groups of people walked down the terminal towards the baggage claim. Every time I saw a woman with a stroller and diaper bag, my soul gave a little leap, then sank as I realized that it wasn't my family. Finally, after watching what seemed like droves of people walk by, I saw Kara pushing a stroller in a group. I jumped up and down, waving my arms in the air, not caring that I looked a little foolish. I saw Kara wave and point, then heard, "Daddy!" and the patter of little feet running on the tile floor. Kate burst out of the group and dashed toward me while I waited at the barrier, arms open wide. She hit me at a full run, and I scooped her up, glad to have her and my family back home. I had let her go a week before, knowing she would return. The moment we recognized one another, it was a race to be reunited. Letting go is always worth the reunion!

God has let you go. When your journey concludes, will you be running towards him? Better yet, will he recognize you? I hope so!

It's the little things

Last Thursday I ran down a lonely stretch of two lane road in Southern Mississippi after a day of wrangling 20 teenagers on a mission trip as we tried to paint a house in the rain. (Yes, it was the outside. Yes, you can paint in the rain.) If you know me very well, you know that when I'm on a mission trip (any trip, really) I like to relax in my free time. In other words, I lay around like a slug, sipping a coke, eating potato chips, and reading or watching TV as I doze in and out. In other words, not run. So how did I find myself running down Highway 63 in the Pascagoula River Bottoms on a muggy Thursday afternoon after working all day? Well, the answer to that goes back almost a decade...

Most people don't know this, but before my wife and I were married I went to counseling for several sessions. I knew that I had some issues I needed to work through, and wanted to get through them quickly, so I sought the help of a Christian LPC. For those naysayers and snorters-at of counseling (of which I was one for a long time), I looked at it like this: I wanted to get to a certain place in life, but didn't have a road map to get there. So, I hired a guide to show me the way help me find a few shortcuts.

While in counseling, I learned the importance of writing down life goals, then reviewing them from time to time. It turns out that I have a fairly long list of goals (some specific, some not-so-specific) that I would like to accomplish. My goals range from activities I would like to try (no skydiving!), to career goals, family goals, traveling goals, etc.... So they can be pretty random. For example, two of my goals are to live in a houseboat and to learn to surf, which are totally doable since they make ocean houseboats. (Take that, you unnamed person who says you won't live in a houseboat with me and chuckles at my desire to learn to surf because we live in Texas and far, far away from a beach. You know who you are!) 

Over the years, writing my goals has evolved into a yearly process, one in which I look at my life goals, reflect on all the areas of my life, then decide what I would like to accomplish that year. Bear in mind these are not resolutions- I don't beat myself up if I miss a goal, and I put forth effort to make them simple, measurable, and doable. For example, one goal this year is to lower my blood pressure. Instead of writing "Lower my blood pressure" on my goal sheet, I wrote, "Quit putting salt on chips." That's a small step that over the course of the last few months has worked. My blood pressure is now in the normal range. (Yes, I measure it daily. What good is a goal if you can't measure progress?!)

When originally I made my goals, I was in good shape. I ran, swam, and biked a lot, so  I wrote that I would like to run a 5K, 10K, half-marathon, and a marathon. Before I took on grad school, a full time job, and a family, I knocked out the 5K and 10K in a few years with little planning or effort. However, for the past several years "half-marathon" has stayed on the list without being crossed off. Back in January, one of my church's youth workers asked if I was sharing my goals this year since I had done it for the past few. She laughed and said, "Make sure to put that half-marathon on there again!" Of course, I knew I had to do it then, not because my pride was wounded, but because I had some "encouragement" to motivate me! Just a few words can be the nudge a person needs to get started on something big! 

Lo and behold, a month later, I find myself using my Runkeeper app again, running (with walking mixed in) three times a week, and feeling a little better. (Did I mention that my pants aren't as tight as they used to be?) Am I still out of shape compared to myself when I originally made those goals? YES. Are my ankles bothering me enough that I'm worried I may have to switch to biking? YES. Do I feel kind of sheepish that it's taken me several weeks to build up to 1.5 miles? Not really.

When I fired up my Runkeeper app for the first time since May 9, 2013, I reviewed my stats. I started using Runkeeper on January 5, 2011. If you scroll through the workout log, you'll see lots of 1 to 2 mile runs, with the occasional 3 or 5 miles run thrown in for fun. It doesn't look like a lot if you only look at the individual workouts, but over time they add up. In the two years, four months, and four days that I used Runkeeper before my 1.5 year hiatus from exercise, I logged 139 workouts and ran a total of 432 total miles. 432 miles. That's more than half the width of Texas from west-to-east. I'm no expert, but to me that's quite a bit. It's certainly more than I would have guessed I ran in that time period. All those days of small runs added up, one after the other, and they made an impact. 

Knowing that I've accomplished 432 miles makes running 13.1 miles seem pretty easy. I'm not a pretty runner, and by no means a fast runner, but I can do it (if my ankles hold up)! Best part? That knowledge bleeds over into other areas of my life as well. Big project at work? Healthier marriage? Raising kids that will be independent, potty-trained, productive citizens one day? Paying off a mortgage? All doable! You just have to keep at it and never give up! Remember when I mentioned counseling? One hang up I had was being so all-or-nothing that I was sometimes paralyzed by career moves because I couldn't do something big all at once. The great news (which is why I made the life goal list at the suggestion of my counselor) is that I don't have to do it all at once. All I have to do is keep making strides toward my goals, no matter how big or little. 

So what's your goal? Dream big, put it in the comments, and let's keep working towards it!

Words

A few weeks ago in the Mitten State, I managed to land myself in a group of people much more well-read and smarter than me for a small colloquium on Limited Government and Rule of Law, put on by The Liberty Fund and Acton Institute. If, like me before the conference, you don't know what a colloquium is, let me give you the definition. Dictionary.com defines a colloquium as "a conference at which scholars or other experts present papers on, analyze, and discuss a specific topic." (Emphasis on discuss.) Obviously I did not attend to present a paper, but to learn and discuss ideas in a small, formal setting. Attendees were required to read selected works beforehand from philosophers and statesmen from different eras to discover how political thought, based on natural law, reason, and Christian principles, evolved over the centuries.

How does a guy like me get connected to this kind of stuff? Two reasons: One, I'm a student at Criswell College, which I consider one of the finest learning institutions out there. Two, I subbed out my basic philosophy course a few years ago for a class titled "Ethics, Economics, and Natural Law" taught by Dr. JosephWooddell. I would like to brag about how I managed to earn an M.A. and M.Div without taking core philosophy classes, but weekends such as the one I'm writing about only serve to humble me by revealing this serious black hole in my intellectual development. (One which I'm quickly bringing myself up to speed on through self-study, which means I'll really only know enough to be dangerous. But hey, I'm cool with dangerous as long as my pride stays intact.) For some reason, Dr. Wooddell, a brilliant guy with several letters behind his name and degrees to prove it, seems to think that I'm smart enough to handle myself these events. (Either that or he's secretly playing the best practical joke ever by getting me to facilitate "mini-classes" and participate in the conferences while laughing about it as he eats cherry sours in his office!) That one act of subbing a class led to the recommendation by Dr. Wooddell, which led me to the point I found myself in that Friday afternoon (which was a very dark and lonely place for a few hours).

The conference was Thursday through Sunday, and I was EXCITED! The opportunity to travel, learn, dialogue with other people who share the same interests, and eat some great food at the same time lured me in! I barely slept Wednesday night, and talked my buddy's ear off about community development, human flourishing, and church polity the whole ride to the airport. I arrived several hours early, hooked up with another pastor who was travelling to the same conference, got even more excited as we talked, and was ready for events to begin that evening. As the evening began, I introduced myself to each newcomer and readily conversed. Thursday night's discussion was one I could handle: biblical foundations for limited government and rule of law. I made a few comments in the discussion, but quickly figured out that I was probably the least educated and dumbest guy in the room. So many of the other attendees (12 in all, I think) were quoting philosophers and thinkers from different ages, and there I was with my "The Bible says....." statements, like any good evangelical. (Did I mention Acton was founded by a Catholic priest?) My confidence level was pretty good Thursday evening, but Friday would knock me down a few notches.

Friday morning, we ate breakfast together then marched into the conference room and took our places at the table. The discussion leader gave us our instructions, then said, "I know that you were given questions to answer as part of your pre-reading for this conference, but I have a few of my own I'd like to throw out for us to discuss." I had completed the readings and answered the questions, but it was all downhill from that statement on! The other attendees quickly dove into the conversation, stating points, refuting comments, adding to others, and generally sounding brilliant. The funniest part was how most of them began their monologues with, "I know I'm the dumbest guy in the room, but I want to say ______________," then made a statement that I had to take notes and spend the next 15 minutes figuring out just exactly what they said. (Needless to say, I felt a little lost.) I survived the morning, sat at lunch and didn't say a whole lot, then went to my room for the break, where I prayed to the Holy Spirit for wisdom. (Check out James 1:5 for those of you who may not be avid Bible readers.) I was even more discouraged by the afternoon sessions. I was so busy trying to come up intercessions or points, that I couldn't even follow the conversation. I was so discouraged that I even sent a good friend a text telling him that I had come to the wrong conference!

 After another session, it was time for dinner. At that point I had internally made the decision to tough it out for the next day and a half, make it back home, and never come back to one of these conferences. As we walked to the dining room, a friend and I were discussing the conference and I could tell that he felt the same way. As we walked through the door, a hand laid itself on my shoulder. I turned to look, and it was Dr. Ross Emmett, one of the discussion leaders (and the one guy holding his own in the entire conference). No matter the topic, it seemed that there wasn't anything he wasn't an expert in! (Not to say that he's arrogant; very much the opposite. I had to look up the link I put in and am even more amazed at how humble he is after reading his bio.)  He said to both of us, "You guys had some great points earlier and we can tell you're paying attention to the discussions; don't be shy about adding to the dialogue." I replied, "Thanks, but having new questions to answer and trying to follow the discussion is hard! By the time I come up in the queue, what I was going to say isn't even relevant." Ross said, "You guys don't need to worry about that. Just say you want to return to another point. As for the questions, chuck'em out the window; get in the queue and say you want to answer one from the reading, or ask your own questions." Aha! That was the trick that we hadn't known! My friend and I both agreed that we would skip the evening hospitality to look over tomorrow's discussions and have a few questions and points ready!

Saturday morning rolled around, and I resolved myself to jump into the queue quickly, so as not to lose my nerve. I entered the room and sat down, ready to contribute and pull my weight in the conference. I did, and while I can't say that I made points that were salient, much less understandable, I had a much better time than I had the day before. I even was able to make a few intercessions on others' points! Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the conference, made a few new friends, and learned how to hold my own in a formal Socratic discussion.

 If God's word is true, and therefore James 1:5 is true, then one could come to the conclusion that God had answered my request for wisdom. Granted, he certainly didn't do it the way you or I might expect. I had done my homework before coming to the conference! I didn't even realize it, but I was asking God for practical wisdom, which is what most of us are really looking for when we ask for wisdom (we don't really want knowledge; we want actions that help us with the situation we're in). That wisdom was in knowing the unspoken rules that Ross told my friend and me. Once we knew them, it was a game-changer.

When we pray for wisdom, most of us aren't expecting it to come in the form of a passing word of encouragement; we want the clouds to open up, lightning to flash, and thunder to roar as God speaks to us. Could it be, though, that God uses ordinary human voices to speak to us? Could it be that we, by providing a word of encouragement or quiet instruction to someone, actually are taking part in the grand plans God has for creation and answering prayers? ABSOLUTELY! God worked through flesh to provide salvation through humanity. We are made in His image. Wouldn't it make sense that He would use you and me to accomplish his plans?  (It does help if we have something to bring to the table, so to speak, and Proverbs is full of practical wisdom, so let me put a plug for Bible reading in here.)

I know I will think more carefully about my words from now on. Will you?