May God Save the Children

The other day my children were sitting around the living room together when my 6 year old (Griffin) began to ask about baptism and being a Christian. I had the thrill of watching my 8 year old (Cayson) walk through a tract he cherishes explaining God’s love, our separation, the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ. He discussed personal repentance and commitment followed by reading the supporting scriptures to Griffin. My oldest was doing the work of an evangelist with his brother.

We are unapologetically, narrow mindedly, and unashamedly a Christian home. I struggle with the challenge of helping my children understand they are not “born” Christians because in our house what mom and dad believe and most importantly, demonstrate, are adopted and learned by them from day one – they know nothing other than what they live (but of course, that is true in any home whether godly or not).

As a result, my children understand that God loves them because we teach them that He does. They know that Jesus is God’s son. My children know that Jesus was born in a manger, did not sin, died on the cross, and rose from the grave. Without question they say prayers of thanksgiving for blessings and concerns for others each night at bedtime. They understand the importance of the words “I’m sorry” and “will you forgive me”. They know that actions, though forgiven, still have consequences. We teach them there are appropriate ways to treat others and what it means to respect authority. We teach them to guard their eyes and behavior and regulate what they watch on TV or games that they play. We spend time explaining that not everyone believes or lives like we do and there is great importance in helping people hear truth and see it lived out practically.

We are always in the process of leading them to Jesus through deliberate and practical efforts in our child rearing. As Christian families, we are at war with culture and the battle not only includes severe finality through life but is an ongoing fight to secure victory. Families must make preemptive and counter strikes on the battlefield of our children in our culture through their families and in their families. It is critical. It is effective. It is biblical.

I have one son who is clearly a follower of Christ in the regeneration sense. He will tell you he knows exactly when he came to terms with his faith and when He asked God to save him through his faith in Jesus. It doesn’t matter if we sat down at the table for our own assurance to discuss it or baptized him several months later, he KNOWS he was in his bed alone one night when he prayed for salvation. How am I to argue against the genuine faith of a child? That day… the dynamics of my role in his life changed from leading him to that realization to discipling his growth from there.

I do not know when (or truth is, if) my other children will become regenerated believers, but I do know that they have as strong of a platform for that faith as any child could have and my responsibility as there father to guide them will never be removed. I also know that they not only have the example of their parents to look toward, but the love of an older brother who is willing and ready to help them understand.

May God save my children and lead them in the way everlasting.

Missional Discoveries

From the moment I first stepped into the room where I would be leading missionaries in worship to the moment we left and headed home from Ukraine, I committed to embrace and own each moment for its particular worth and experience. I am so thankful to have had the privilege to be a part of such a team and had a hand in such a ministry.

My greatest personal question at the moment is "What do I do with my experience from here?” So many things are swirling through my head and I do not know where to start.

Before going to Ukraine, I had this burning question in my mind about whether God would use this trip to introduce the call to international missions to my life and the lives of my family. I have not had an underlying hunch or notion that this would be the case nor have I been contemplating or wrestling with this as a possibility. I haven’t been sitting and praying for some answer in this regard that I was hoping to discover. I just had the thought “What if suddenly I am blindsided with a new calling in my life?”

It is not a question or quest that bothered me in any way; I am just quite familiar with stories of those who have been called as a result of going in the first place. I even mentioned it to a good friend [who is in fact a missionary] who just smiled in understanding and said "well, you wouldn’t be the first that’s happened to and you wouldn’t be the last either should that be the case”.

I have not been afraid of that possibility in any way, just curious about it. I like to think that I am a willing heart and open to whatever God has for me to do. I do not include myself in the group that immediately excludes themselves of the possibility of service on levels that seem impossible or selfish (I know that is a bit of a strike at some, but if you find offense, perhaps there is need for personal examination and repentance).

I am thankful for the hearts that are not hardened as such. I met a couple while abroad that was not called to missions until later in life… he was 70 when called - quite compelling, if you ask me. My point is, having a truly willing heart is an important thing whether one is called to the mission field or not.

I am certain that being called into the permanent international mission field has not been the purpose of this trip as it pertains to my life. In fact, had I come with that notion and such a bias as the driving force and looked for answers to that question, all of the indications and affirmations point the other way. I have experienced more affirmation of my role and usefulness in the states than in the international mission field as a career missionary.

That being the case, I now ask “what, then, from here?” I am but one among many from eons of Christianity who has taken the time to be involved on a short term level of service. I currently know and have discovered some things about myself personally and would like to share a few:

(1) I know that I could do this again. I could easily go back and could even stay longer. I have the desire to either return to Ukraine or work somewhere else in an international effort. God has wired me in such a way that I roll with the punches easily and am quite adaptable. Mission work such as that of which we were a part is something that has not frustrated me in the least. I would like the opportunity to travel further down this path.

(2) I want to be stretched. This trip was much easier on me physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally than I thought before going. As I walked through unfamiliar streets, rode down bumpy roads, experienced an unfamiliar culture, strived to weave through language barriers, and endured slight inconveniences, I kept wondering how far down this road could I travel. I want to experience more. I want to test my endurance in this. I want to work in a more difficult environment and I want to see to what extent God has wired me for this and explore the impact.

(3) I think God has designed me for people in need of healing. It occurred to me through this effort that there seems to be a theme in my life and the encounters I've had through my ministry - healing. In every church I have served, I have been placed in an environment of injury or sabotage, restoration and recovery. God has used me to establish lost confidence formed by fallen or outright sinful ministers. God has used me with others to help build further trust and dependence upon Him. God has used me to restore faith in the story of the prodigal and God has made successes out of failure through forgiving spirits and reconciled hearts.

My own medical history stands as a testimony of faithfulness, both of God as sovereign and myself as his servant. God used me once again as an encouragement to others as I brought my own life testimony to the missionary table at the conference this week both with missionaries I just met and members of our own team.

Again, I think healing is the theme of my life in so many ways. Perhaps I should explore this further and consider ways in which God may want me to blossom in this area of ministry [however, don’t expect a hand to the forehead and being knocked down on a stage to demonstrate – that’s not how I roll].

(4) I have so much to learn. I am roughly halfway through my expected lifespan and there is so much left to learn. I do not know near the amount of Bible I wish I knew, but I am the only one to remedy that. I spent four days preaching to missionaries who each have the ability to read and study as much or far more than I ever have. I walked into that room extremely afraid and intimidated by my surroundings. Interestingly, the one man I found most intimidating to me was the one with whom I enjoyed the most discussion about the word and found tremendous encouragement. Funny how that happened; I don't get it.

Much of what I don't know is because I have not taken the time to deliberately learn... that needs to change. I may not be able to be like who I want to be, but I can certainly be better than who I am.

(5) I receive great personal satisfaction from investing in others. There is no elaboration to this point; it is simply a reality of who I am and what God created me to be.

Happy, Happy, Birthday

Last Friday was my birthday. As we know, the older we get the less we like to see the next birthday coming. There are generally those people in your life who like to remind you of the event and depending on the age you are turning, give you some pretty good ribbing about the time spent on earth. You gotta love those folks who exist in your life to simply remind you of the things you might not want to think about - especially on your special day.

Over the past several years birthday wishes have changed for anyone who has joined the world of social networking, i.e. Facebook. As those of us engaged in the friendly environment know, when your birthday rolls around, your wall becomes inundated with birthday well wishes from all sorts of folks.

This year, as the years before this, my wall was once again filled with "Happy Birthday" after "Happy Birthday" [I learned a long time ago to disable the email notifications linked to Facebook].

Here's the thing though. Over the past year I have been less than concerned with hitting the birthdays of my FB Friends. Sure, I hit the ones that I am in general contact with anyway and some who I have very little other contact. There were even a few in there to whom I haven't spoken with in years. Other than that, not so much.

Mostly I just don't make it a priority to take the time each day to check the birthdays. I can't really claim innocent neglect for being away from my computer on some days because like so many others, I mostly access from a mobile device anyway. For the most part, I have been thinking that it doesn't matter because so many others are doing the well wishing anyway.

Friday made me think about it again. as I scrolled through the list of people wishing me a happy FB birthday I felt so... well, special. It meant something to me that people took a moment to make a post even if just a simple "Happy B-day" and nothing more. I looked over the names and realized there was no category of FB friend that wasn't covered. From close family to devoted friends. From neighbors to old high school acquaintances. From old coworkers to teachers. Many of the posts did not surprise me, but some did.

Then there is the factor of FB friends that are just that - FB friends. these are the people we reconnect with briefly on FB from a long time ago, but after some shallow chat and reconnection they are just another name on the list of mutual friends that someone else sees realizing what a small word it really is; several of those even posted. For that matter, last year my old middle school bully even wished me happy birthday. How ironic is it that he is on my FB friends list? It's probably a good thing I healed on the inside and took him off that other list I used to keep.

As I thought more about it [probably too long in my more sentimental old age] I realized that I was genuinely appreciative of each one regardless of the relationship. Throughout the day I kept hearing the tone of mobile alerts from my phone indicating once again a person on the other end of a computer or phone who took a moment to wish me happy birthday. All day long I had a constant reinforcement of love and thoughtfulness.

In light of my new found sentiment I have decided to do two things. First I am going to reply by "comment" to each of the individual posts with a thank you. I know I could do the quick and easy status update approach with a general thank you to all [by no means am I criticizing that] but I'd rather extend the individual response and make myself take the time to do so. And second, I plan to be far more observant of the birthdays that pop up in the events and send personal well wishes when they do. I know how I felt when they came up on my wall. I'm going to pay it forward... even to my middle school bully whenever his birthday rolls around.

Aiming to Please

Yesterday I had the pleasure of watching two of my sons sing with our church’s children’s choir for the local Rotary club. As a proud parent I watched the children gleefully [and no, I’m not a “Gleek”] present songs from the upcoming Christmas program at church. As I watched, I noticed something very different with one of my boys compared to the other – my oldest kept shooting his eyes at me sitting in the audience. No big surprise, right? Of course not, I’m his Dad. On the other hand, my younger son never glanced at me once… not even slightly. Not one time did he take his eyes off the director.

As I watched the one, he maintained focus on the director throughout the total program, but frequently through the songs he moved his eyes past the “front man” to the person in the room who bears the most significance to his life and all that he does - me.

As he looked at me, I consistently gave him signs of approval through smiles and grins and the hokey but understandable “thumbs up”. I continued to look to my other son as well hoping to express my approval and encouragement for his involvement, but would never have the opportunity.

I wanted so badly for him to look my way even for the slightest second. I longed for the moment of showing my pleasure and smiling at him with the same grin given to his brother. I kept thinking “surely he knows I’m right here, I’m positive he saw me come in the door.”

I understand that those of you who direct children in musicals might consider my sons as exhibit “A” for your list of what to do and not do while following musical direction. You want those children focused on your direction, because at that moment, that is all that really matters. I get that. My younger son would probably receive the most immediate praise from any director for his tunnel vision focus. Interestingly though, therein lies my point.

It is easy for those of us in leadership to get caught up in the significance of our own leadership [albeit good and important]. We all want people to follow and respond to our charge with loyal and dedicated response. Sometimes, however, we run the risk of having a self idolized notion that we are the most significant factor in the leadership equation. We sometimes forget that the people we lead need to be led to the audience of the heavenly Father who sits waiting for his child to ultimately look His way for approval and spiritual calibration. The self worth of our service and the service of those we lead must rest in the approval of the Father and in Him alone. Even the greatest of leader is still fallible.

God certainly places people in our lives to lead us and guide us through the process of Christian living and service to others. He places godly pastors, teachers, and mentors before us, but He is also engaged in the process by offering his blessings of approval for all that we do under that leadership. It is in the congruency of pleasing God first and in the service and submission to our leaders that balance is found for our accountability with each other and our leadership.

Maybe I’m reading too much into my son’s choral habits, but maybe not. I just found it interesting that his ultimate approval came not from the man in charge of his task of singing at that moment, but from his father who sat in observance of his performance at the time. Does he want to please the director? Yes, I know that he does. But, in the end he wants to please his father more. In so doing, he also pleases his director because he knows I approve of both him and his director.

As for my younger son [the tunnel vision, focused singer], the first thing he did when they were done was run to me with arms held high to receive a huge hug from Daddy; after which, I proceeded to thank the director for his leadership and a job well done. But I suppose that is another observation altogether.

Breakfast with Heroes

I once attended a breakfast with the local American Legion post of Marianna, AR. I was invited by a gentleman in my church who seemed to be surprised that I showed at 06:45 – I think he thinks everyone my age and younger sleeps too long every day and my guess is, he has gotten up at the same time every morning for the last 50 years.

When I walked in, I was initially introduced to a few men at the end of a long table and before I knew it, every man in that room took the initiative to introduce himself, welcome me, and shake my hand.

Every one of these men is a veteran and has served our country militaristically at some point in their lives. I was among men of different branches of the military and from different eras of time, and all with a certain war attached to their time of service. Many of these guys are gruff. These men are unapologetic for who they are. They are men’s men. I sat with men who drink their coffee black, they eat fatty breakfast food [maybe cooked in lard], and a couple of them lit up their smokes right at the table - unfiltered, I think. I began to hear the sound of Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival playing in the background of my mind.

I am a man that is not normally in such an environment. I am married to a woman who is concerned with good eating habits and healthy living. Though I do drink my coffee black, I also drink skim milk, I don’t smoke [though I do like the smell of a good cigar], I have never been in a battle beyond that of words or being beat half to death by bullies. I don’t cuss. I have no actual war stories. For that matter I don’t even have a firearm other than a shotgun passed down to me from my grandfather - it gets fired once a year to bring in the new year. The only physical scars I have are from surgeries and a hit across the nose with a pipe. And, when I pledge allegiance to the American flag, it is through a freedom I take for granted more than I’d like to admit.

Not so for these guys. They don’t Facebook, Instagram, tweet or blog. They certainly don’t drink skim milk and they don’t care what the surgeon general says. Some have tats that might make you blush and probably some memories they’d like to forget. They have played cards by the light of a Zippo with gunfire in the distance. They have spent many nights not wondering what to do tomorrow, but wondering if they will see tomorrow at all. They have had tours of duty that took them from family and friends while [in some cases] returning to a country ready to spit in their faces. Most of these men have seen more harshness and brutality in a short period of life than many of us will see in a lifetime. They are men who have served and sacrificed for our country and they are American heroes.

I wondered about the different stories they had to tell and unlike my father and grandfather would they even choose to tell them. I pondered the sense of duty they felt for their country and their comrades who fought beside them. Are they still proud of the country they served? Are they proud of our path as a nation? Is America anywhere close the America for which they fought?

As I sat with these men I felt honored. I felt honored to be seated among men with such patriotic pride as the members of the American Legion of Marianna. I felt the concern they had for fallen veterans as they discussed a detail to aid in local funeral services and who would volunteer to set military headstones at forgotten graves. I watched as one man stood and said he was no longer physically able to do the job but would gladly volunteer to teach others for the task. I felt the pride as they discussed the placement of American flags at the local cemeteries for those to be remembered and I appreciated the dedication to continue their American Legion post.

I have never taken the opportunity to serve in military service, but I am incredibly grateful to those who have and still do. I am thankful that there are those who God has called to commit themselves to the wellbeing of our country and pray that His protection is upon them. As we enjoy Memorial Day, we should all stop and consider the sacrifices, especially to the point of death, made by men and women on behalf of our country and give thanks to God for the privilege of being a part of what even my Kuwaiti [and fellow American citizen] friend calls the greatest nation on earth.

My God and My Peeps

A few weeks ago I was enjoying a delicious seasonal treat within seconds of the purchase. I could hardly get out of the store before opening my box of Peeps from the left over Easter stock. I almost ate them right in the store while shopping with plans to purchase the empty container when I checked out [technically, that is shoplifting] but my reason for not doing so was selfishly motivated – I didn’t want to have to distribute all my Peeps to all my peeps with me. Those babies of mine love Peeps as much as I do but unlike me, they are not skilled enough at Peeps eating to do so without a mess.

Anyone who eats Peeps has their own way of consumption and I am no exception. There are five to a pack, they are eaten a pack at a time, and in my humble but accurate opinion, the chicks are the only true Peeps. I’m a Peeps purist - forget the bunnies.

The first one is sudden death for the Peep. It goes in my mouth all the way with maybe a single bite into two pieces and its over. It sets the foundation for all the rest and I always think and say the same thing “man, I really like Peeps”. The second Peep has a different experience. I don’t know what it is about those little eyes on the sides, but I always nibble them off one at a time before going further. There really is no substantial taste or texture to the eyes, but it’s what I do every time. The last three experience any and/or all of the following experiences.

(1) I generally bite the head off one or two.

(2) I start with biting the tail on one.

(3) I usually stretch one out further than the skin of sugar allows and watch the mallow center appear.

(4) I might play with one for a bit and wonder about the process that actually births them into existence [I know - I know. I can Google it, I just never have].

(5) I usually play out some type of peep decapitation scenario.

Regardless of how they are eaten or by what steps or imagination, they all go down the same way – easy. They are sugar, and nothing more…and whatever those little eyes are. They are soft, sweet, gentle, and unless you have a cavity, inoffensive.

So while I was enjoying my peeps and reliving my childhood days and imagination, I began to think “you know… God is kind of like a peep”. Well, not my God! However, a lot of people’s perception of God is.

So many people treat the God of all creation, maker of heaven and earth, as though all there is to him is sugar coated fluff. So many people want to dress up their perception of God to be a 5 pack box of Peeps theology that goes down easy and with little or no effort on their part. They might even explore some elements of him along the way, but in the end, they just want there to be a smooth sweet taste that goes down as it own spoonful of sugar. They aren’t concerned with true nourishment form his word or adjusting lifestyle to his precepts. No, they want the sweet and no sweat. They want milk and honey without the faithful battle. That’s the kind of God so many people desire. They want a God who saves them, but requires no obedience in response. A God whose substance dissolves easily the moment we taste of him. A God whose word is also coated in sugar so that when ours lips are touched by it, the last thing to come to mind is anything close to the likes of a burning coal designed to purify our mouths because we are literally undone in His presence.

No, my God, my portion, my savior, my counselor, my loving father, my good shepherd, and my potter is not to be broken down or devalued by me; I am to be consumed by him. I am to be undone. I am to be shaped and molded. I am to be refined. I am to be melted and not hardened from exposure to him and his glory. My God requires that I chew diligently upon his word and expose myself for the melting mallow that I am in his presence. It is my coating that should be stretched beyond its natural points of comfort.

My prayer is that as God continues to refine me; my heart will forever be soft and pliable to his crafting and that I will seek not the ease of false spirituality, but the substance of being fashioned into a reflection of Him.

Paternal Parenting among the Pathetic

As a parent now four deep in children, my mind is often plagued with the aspect of my children coming into their own decision making process. I have always said I would rather raise boys than girls because of the wretchedness of my own gender to be selfish, crass, tacky and rude contrasted with the desire deep inside every woman’s heart to be loved, cherished and appreciated.

I believe the task of teaching my boys is one of significant value to them when they enter adulthood as well as to any woman they may seek as a wife. One of the greatest challenges to raising boys is to teach them that it is not acceptable to treat women as “objects” in a culture that does nothing but place women before them as objects baiting them into a philosophy of thinking that only reinforces a lack of value. I have the task of teaching my boys to have a specific respect for women in a culture where the very objects of such respect behave in unrespectable ways.

I think about the idiocy of “reality” TV shows like The Bachelor that have women all voluntarily clawing for and pawing upon one guy all at the same time who, quite likely, does not have the respect for them for which they truly long. I think about the clips I see for promos and wonder what various fathers think of their daughters as they are exposed on national TV for their desperate attempts at grasping significance towards an ending that supposedly includes “happily ever after” in a scenario that is hardly real while reflecting the sad reality of our times.

Even so, I still feel like boys are easier to raise than girls - I can teach my boys to be men of integrity who seek to have and demonstrate genuine character. I can teach them to be chivalrous in a world that lacks such concern. I can teach them to be polite and express themselves with the greatest regard for the company they keep, and I can teach them the importance of treating a lady like a lady even during the absence of lady-like behavior. I can teach my boys that the existence of women is not for their gawking pleasure, but for the purpose of being a helpmate throughout the days of their lives and a beautiful parallel to God’s love for us. I can teach my boys what it means to be devoted to a woman and not pixels on a website. I can teach my boys to exercise restraint and guard against temptations without approaching tempting situations blindly defeated by their own passions as if there is no way to avoid bad decisions.

They can learn the value of restrained pleasure in anticipation of authentic marital companionship and I can teach them how to see to it that their commitment to their wives comes second only to their commitment to God and that their commitment to God dictates and drives the nature of their commitment to their wives. I can teach them how their marriages can and should be a testimony of the life they live in Christ reflecting the example of Christ’s love for His church and what it means to love selflessly and unconditionally so as to cultivate the best relationships possible. All these behaviors and attitudes can be taught and, if my sons learn them well, will lay a tremendously strong foundation that will move the heart of any woman seeking such loyal, committed, devotion. What woman doesn’t want a man who will man-up on his relationship and commitment to her? My boys will be taught to find the one who God has ordained to be with them forever – and without the “trial and error” “sowing of wild oats” destructive approach that so undermines and insults the integrity of genuine relationship.

Raising girls, on the other hand, is so much harder – and really for the same reasons. They too live in a culture where women often sabotage so much of what would be respectful and demonstrative of self respect while lowering their standards for acceptable “men” and relationships. I seek to teach my daughter not to settle for anything less than God’s best for her and to have standards that guide her to discover His will and not be governed by insecurity or fear.

I’m guessing the numbers are staggering for women who have entered bad relationships and marriages out of fear, insecurity, and anxiety over wondering if anyone else would come along and love them. I wonder how many fathers have watched daughters travel down treacherous roads of naivety [or stupidity] thinking “if she would only realize how special and valuable she really is…”

I also wonder how many daughters just long for there fathers to draw them into their arms and tell them how valuable they are and that if they will be patient, God is faithful and sustains. While I believe my boys are easier because I can teach them to have character traits and qualities that are in desperate demand, my daughter is much harder because I have to teach her to be patient and wait for God to provide someone with such traits – and there seem to be very few these days.

I want all of my children to discover godly spouses, but I equally want them to be godly people themselves so that the correct match of souls occurs. As a father, I bear a pythonic responsibility to teach such godly pursuits meshed with strategies of living in a world saturated with ungodly direction. In the end, my children will choose to heed my instruction or not, but my drive is to lead them to be like the men of Issachar, who understood the times in which they lived and knew what to do (1 Chronicles 12:32) and Enoch who “walked with God” (Genesis 5:22).