My Take on the Duck Dynasty Firestorm

I love Duck Dynasty. I resisted it for years, and recently got sucked in to the down-home, quirky humor of this family--who all seem like good people. I enjoy watching it with my kids.

But all the social-media brouhaha is crazy, and I am saddened by what I read from many of my evangelical friends, and how this reflects on us Christians.

I do not claim that my opinion is the RIGHT opinion. I've been wrong before. But here is where I am:

This is not a free speech issue. Phil Robertson has the right to say whatever he wants. No one is telling him he can't. But just as he has freedom, A&E has the freedom to run their company the way they choose.

And to say Phil is being persecuted because of his faith? please. Phil has made millions with his business, TV show, and merchandising. He's not hurting. Even without the TV show, he has the means and the freedom to go where he wants, do what he wants, and say what he wants.

To call Phil a martyr is insulting to the millions of people who have lost health, home and life by standing for their beliefs.

Imagine this scenario: There is a network that is created and funded by a Christian ministry. It airs a traditional family TV show with an actor that viewers come to love. It comes out that the actor is gay, and lives with his partner. He begins to talk about LGBT rights publicly.

The network decides that this actor and his beliefs don't fit with their image. They fire him from the TV show. How many evangelicals would stand up and claim that the network trampled the actor's rights?

We're all for free speech when we like the speech; but people often look for ways to stifle that speech when they don't like it or agree with it.

The bigger issue is this: why do many evangelical Christians feel the need to fight the battle against homosexuality publicly? Do they believe their rantings are going to make a positive difference in people's lives? Do you find it helpful or effective when people publicly rebuke you and tell you that you need to change?

I get that they believe it is a sin.

But why do we see so many people in the public arena fighting this fight?

Why not divorce, or greed, or gluttony, or dishonesty?

Why is this one issue elevated so far above others? Many evangelicals will say it is not or should not be addressed more than other "sins." But they still do it. We never see this kind of social media uproar about other issues (except maybe abortion).

Does this follow the example of Jesus? I don't remember reading anything in the Bible about Jesus standing up for free speech, and fighting for individual rights. He seemed more concerned with feeding the hungry and healing the sick and helping the poor and offering forgiveness.

Did Jesus often use public forums condemn particular sins? Most of the time in Scripture when he did address sin, he did so one-on-one, in the context of a relationship; with gentleness and compassion and grace.

When Jesus' rebuked publicly, He was usually addressing the hypocrisy of religious leaders.

Finally, do people think that fighting this fight publicly is going to draw people to Christ? Does anyone think that non-Christians are watching all this and thinking, "wow, these people and their God really love me"?

In my opinion, that should be the bottom line. How do my words and actions help connect others to the God that loves them and gave himself for them? I don't think the current uproar is accomplishing that.

The Value of Time

I wrote this for Gracious Goodbyes, a wonderful blog created by my friend Jill.

The older I get, the more I recognize the value of time. Not about how time working equals financial gain, but the relational value of time.

 When we’re young, time seems like an endless commodity. We don’t think much about how we spend our time, or with whom we spend it; we just live, doing what we want, with whom we want, when we want.

 As I grow older, and life brings more choices and stresses, I realize that our time is limited, especially the time we have to spend with people we love.

Continue here

Courage

The pictures below show what each of my boys did at the Burlington All-Comers Track Meet this summer. Over three weeks, the boys ran every Wednesday night against other kids their age.

Brady's Ribbons

Cash's Ribbons

All runners received ribbons--blue, red or white for the top three in each age group, light blue "participant" ribbons for everyone else.

Looking at the two pictures, it looks like Cash achieved more success. He placed second or third in most of the races he ran, from the first meet. He was really excited and ran very fast.

Brady, who just turned 7, was running against 7 and 8 year olds, and was often one of the smaller kids in his races.

At the first meet, Brady ran his best, but was never able to break the top three for a red, white, or blue ribbon. He did receive 4 participant ribbons, while Cash had one 2nd place and one 3rd place ribbon. Brady was disappointed he didn't do better.

At the second meet, we talked about him running some longer races. In the first meet, both boys ran the 50 meters, the 50 meter hurdles, and the 100 meters. I encouraged Brady to run the 200 and 400, thinking he could do better in the races that depended less on speed, and more on endurance.

But at the second meet, Brady got anxious and didn't want to run at all. He watched Cash run race after race, earning even more ribbons, and he kind of shut down and didn't run at all after doing the softball throw.

I was really disappointed. I didn't care about him winning, but I didn't want him to quit. I didn't want to see him give in to fear. I wanted him to be brave and do his best, even if it didn't turn out the way he wanted.

All those desires are good, but I let it frustrate me more than I should have.

It was a great lesson in realizing that our kids are their own people, and make their own decisions. I had to let it go.

I tried to encourage him, telling him that winning wasn't what mattered, but trying. Doing his best.

Going into the last meet, Brady had a pretty good attitude, and seemed ready to try again.

He did the softball throw, and got a participant ribbon. He ran the 50 meter dash, and got another participant ribbon. He ran a great race in the 200, but finished 4th, and got another participant ribbon.

At this point Brady had earned 9 participant ribbons. Cash had earned 9 ribbons for 2nd or 3rd place. 

The last event Brady tried was the 400. One full lap. Too long to sprint. He started off well, pushing his way to the inside and looking strong for the first 200 meters. Between 200 and 300 meters I could see he was getting winded and tired. 

I was running along the infield, yelling encouragement to him. 

"Keep pushing Brady! Don't stop! Run as fast as you can, now, all the way through!"

On the last straight I could see he was hurting. Another runner pulled alongside Brady, and looked as if he were going to pass him, but Brady found another gear and pulled away. He crossed the finish line in second place.

As I watched the race official hand him the red ribbon, tears filled my eyes.

I was proud that he ran his best and never gave up. I was happy for him that he earned a red ribbon, knowing how important that was to him. 

I'm proud and excited for all the red and white ribbons Cash earned, and just as proud and excited for the one red ribbon Brady earned.

I love being a dad.

Rich Mullins film is coming!

After hearing about a Rich Mullins movie for a couple years, I finally saw a trailer today.

I watched it over and over, and it brought back many memories...

I was introduced to Rich's music in 1986. I was a new Christian, and everyone was listening to Amy Grant at the time. I went with some friends to see her in concert at the Patriot Center, the arena at George Mason University, where I was a student.

Rich opened for Amy. I think he sang "Sing Your Praise to the Lord," a song Rich wrote that became a big hit for Amy. I was greatly impacted by his music. I bought his debut album and listened over and over.

I bought every album he put out from then on.

"Awesome God" was probably his biggest hit, but I preferred some of his lesser known songs. A few early favorites of mine were "If I Stand" and "Home."

In 1991 and 1992 Rich released The World As Best As I Remember It, volumes 1 and 2. Both were amazing albums, with "Step By Step," "I See You," "Waiting," "All the Way My Savior Leads Me" and "Sometimes By Step."

In 1993 came A Liturgy, a Legacy, & a Ragamuffin Band, with "Creed" and "Hold Me, Jesus." The album was later chosen number three on CCM's greatest albums in Christian music.

Rich's music became the soundtrack for much of my life in my twenties and thirties. I listened to him all the time. "Hold Me Jesus" was my go-to song when I was hurting, afraid, uncertain about life, and who I was, and where I was going.

"Creed" was my inspiration, when I needed a spiritual boost. "Step By Step" and "Waiting" were my prayers, as I reached out to God and sought his presence.

I remember when Rich died in 1997. I was in seminary in Fort Worth, and went over to my girlfriend's apartment one day. She sat me down on the sofa and told me Rich had been killed in an auto accident. I sat there stunned for a minute, then began to cry. I felt like I had lost a close friend.

Rich also introduced me to one of my favorite writers, Brennan Manning, starting with his book The Ragamuffin Gospel--which is my absolute favorite book ever.

In 2002, I was leading a campus ministry at GMU. In October we went to a retreat at Eagle Eyrie, near Lynchburg, VA. The speaker for the retreat was James Bryan Smith, a professor, writer and speaker. Jim and Rich were good friends; in 2000 Jim wrote Rich Mullins: An Arrow Pointing to Heaven.

It was a beautiful picture of Rich's life, music and ministry.

I was thrilled to meet Jim, and hoped to get a minute or two to chat. One day at lunch, I had been talking with students and went to get some food as most were leaving the cafeteria. Jim came in, and we ended up sitting together and talking.

He shared wonderful stories of Rich's life and their friendship--Rich lived with Jim and his family for a time, and Rich wrote "Madeline's Song" for Jim's daughter, who was born with severe health problems, and died six months after Rich's death.

We talked for about an hour, and it was wonderful. Spending that time with a close friend of Rich and hearing personal stories about his life was amazing. I was so grateful to God, and to Jim, for that time. I left feeling even closer to Rich, who has made such a big impact on my life, in many ways.

If you don't know Rich's music, LISTEN! I've linked to many of his songs, I encourage you to take some time and let God sing to you through Rich.

Goodbyes and other changes

Old age creeps in...I wrote this post in March, thought I posted it, but didn't. It's been sitting in my drafts for over a month. Better late than never...


I've probably written about goodbyes before; they happen a lot the older I get. Change is part of life, yada, yada...

But change and goodbyes never get easier. And last week was a tough one.

Last year I moved into a leadership position at Logos and was assigned an administrative assistant. Lauren transferred to our team from another department. She was friendly and professional and eager to learn.

She soon became the hub of our department and worked hard to help us all be successful. We worked together a lot, and quickly got to know each other. Our team ate lunch together once a week. Lauren and her boyfriend came to Cash's birthday party.

We would often start Mondays by telling each other about our weekends. Lauren always asked about how Jamie was doing, and was an encouragement to me during that time.

When work was difficult, Lauren was a loyal co-worker and a good friend. She became one of my favorite people, and made work a more enjoyable place. I came to see her kind of like a little sister. (although I'm old enough to be her dad : )

Lauren and her boyfriend both recently got great jobs in Seattle, so they have moved down there.

I am really excited for them, watching them begin a great new adventure together. But I will miss seeing her at work. I know we'll stay in touch, we talked about taking my family down and hanging out with them in Seattle.

Work won't be the same without her, and I'm sad for that.

But I am glad for the time we did work together, and for how Lauren's kindness and encouragement helped me when Jamie was going through her treatment, and when I was going through frustrating times at work.

Lauren is the most recent in a long line of wonderful people that have impacted my life, and made it a little better. Saying goodbye is always hard; but I am so grateful for Lauren, and the others to whom I've had to say goodbye, because the hard goodbye means the friendship was special. And that's good.

A Lesson in the Cold

Brady had baseball practice tonight, even though it was freezing, and halfway into the practice it started raining. It was so cold that at one point I looked around and realized all the parents had gone to their cars in the parking lot. Cash and I were the only ones still watching.

After a while, Brady came over to the dugout, where Cash and I were standing and watching. He was in tears, his face and hands red and frozen. He wanted to go home.

"Brady, we can't just leave. Your teammates are out there practicing, and you're part of the team. I know it's tough, but keep moving, keep your hand in your pocket and try to be strong."

He began crying, asking me to please take him home.

I told him I would, but that he needed to go tell his coach he needed to go. He didn't want to, and kept talking and crying about being cold.

I wanted to take him home. I wanted to tell his coach he was crazy to keep practicing. I thought about how sometimes at work I don't agree with the decisions made by those above me.

I told Brady, "You have two options, Buddy. You can tell your coach that you're just too cold and sore and need to leave, or you can go back out there in the field and keep going."

He stood there a minute, then ran back out on the field. Soon it was Brady's turn to bat. He came in and hit several balls, even though I could tell it hurt his hands each time he connected.

A few minutes later, Coach said enough and ended practice.

I went up to Brady in the dugout and knelt down in front of him. I took his face in my hands and said, "Brady, I have never been more proud of you than I am right now. I know you hurt, and wanted to leave. I wanted to leave. But I am so proud that you went out there and kept working."

His red face broke into a big smile, and we raced to the car.

I love being a dad.

Another New Year

A new year. Hard to believe.
Another chance for me to try once again to be more faithful in writing.

Random thoughts today...

Excited for a new year, new opportunities, new challenges (and some that continue)...

I preached Sunday about moving from self-consciousness to God-consciousness.

You can listen here if you are interested.

It's something I'm working on, and really want to work on with my kids... I want them to grow up bold and free and unashamed.

This past year has been the most stressful of my life--Jamie's battle with cancer (which has been a big victory--she had her last treatment 4 weeks ago and is doing great!) and stress at work have been the main factors.

Money is always an issue, but we have been very blessed by God and by family and friends who have helped out.

I've been fortunate to get part-time work at our church, where I preach once a month. The people there are great and have quickly become family.

The kids are doing great--I can't believe Ashley is a junior. She is doing great in school, and becoming more wonderful every day!

The boys are growing by the minute--they are so much fun and make Christmas such a joyful time.

I have gained a little weight this year, but taking advantage of the new year to make some changes in diet and exercise. I have my 30-year high school reunion next summer (which sounds unbelievable every time I say it or write it), a good time to try to get back into shape.

I also want to recommit to spending time with God, reading, praying, thinking and writing.

One of the reasons we moved to Washington was for life to slow down, and it has. But I need to slow down my thoughts, and specifically my worries; and enjoy each day, each minute, with my amazing family.

Rain

After 81 days without rain, the boys celebrate.

Brennan Manning--Furious Longing of God

Brennan Manning is one of my favorite writers. The Ragamuffin Gospel had a profound impact on me. If you haven't read it, go get a copy NOW and start reading. It will change your life.

One of his recent books is called The Furious Longing of God. My father-in-law gave it to me a few years ago, but I never got around to reading it. I'm reading it now; I'll share some thoughts as I go through it.

The seldom-stated truth is that many of us have a longing for God and an aversion to God. Some of us seek Him and flee Him at the same time.

I'm doing some thinking about that. My first response is, "no; I don't run from God."

But what I think I do is run from the fullness of God. I keep God at a distance. I seek him occasionally, talk, vent, ask, listen...but more often I wave, glance, have a quick, passing conversation.

I don't slow down and just spend time with God the way I did, when I was young and single and didn't have any responsibility.

Now with work and kids and home and sports and a full calendar, it takes major effort to seek God and spend quality time.

But it is worth the effort. When I do put the energy into it, and listen, and share, and just be with God, I become more grounded, more centered, more peaceful.

And I know that God can handle me when I seek Him, and when I flee. And He's still there, either way.

I must read. I must write.

I have been far too absent here. Why? I sometimes struggle with what to write about.

I feel like I need to be careful. Why? Probably fear. Fear that I will say something that will get me into trouble.

Several years ago I was talking with a church about serving as their interim pastor. I preached there several times, met with the deacons, and answered all their questions.

I was scheduled to preach again one Sunday, and worship would be followed by a Q & A with the congregation. The church would then vote on calling me as their interim pastor.

On Thursday evening I got an email from the chairman of the deacons that they had changed their minds about hiring an interim pastor, and that I didn't need to come preach Sunday.

I called him to find out what was going on, and after some gentle pushing, got him to tell me that someone had found some past writings on my blog that concerned them, and that some folks had convinced the deacons not to consider me.

I never got details on what specifically I had written that bothered them, but I imagine it had something to do with posts I wrote before the 2008 election. I was pretty open about my views going into the election, and quoted writings from pastors and authors about the election.

I got into some good discussions/debates with friends over religion and politics. I probably said something that made some folks at that church think I was too liberal. And I lost the job. It was pretty bad timing--a time when I really needed the job.

Anyway, I realized that I needed to be careful about what I write. Guys like Brian McLaren and Mark Driscoll (see me being neutral here?) can get away with say what they think. They are secure enough in their roles as writers and pastors and have enough followers that they don't have to worry about offending anyone. (I mean, they both offend people, but it doesn't come back to bite them.)

I'm now working for a Bible software company. Not in ministry, but kind of close. I did once have a potential customer tell me they googled me before our phone meeting. And I do still think about going back into church ministry, so I feel I need to be careful.

But I have to write. I don't feel like myself if I'm not. And I'm so tired of all the fighting, I don't want to write about politics or religion in ways that invite debate.

So I'm going to write about what I'm thinking and reading, but try to do it in ways that are productive for both me and anyone who reads.

I'm starting Brennan Manning's The Furious Longing of God. More tomorrow...

Instinct

Brady is a great soccer player--way above his years--and gets most of the sports attention between the boys these days. But tonight, Cash had a great moment to shine.

We were at Brady's soccer practice; I was playing with Cash while Brady was with his teammates.

We had a goal set up and we were taking turns shooting--one would shoot while the other played goalie.

Cash was in the goal, and I was taking some pretty hard shots at him. He missed a few, but stopped most of them.

At one point I shot toward his left, he ran to block it and kicked it back to me. I immediately took another shot, to the same side. He was moving back to his right when the ball came flying to his left. In an instant, he twisted his body and his left hand shot up and knocked the ball away.

It was amazing; I couldn't believe how quickly he moved.

I cheered him, then walked over and sat down with him.

"I want to talk about that Cash; that was a great save! Sometimes when we do something, we think about it first, right?"

I don't know if he got it, but he nodded.

"Just then, when I kicked the ball, you didn't think about what to do; you didn't have time to think. You just reached out and hit the ball.

"That's called instinct, Cash. That's when your mind and your body work together, and you do what you need to do without even thinking about it.

"That's what great athletes do, Cash. They act on instinct. They make a great play like that (I snapped my fingers) without even thinking. And that's what you do, Cash. You are a great athlete!"

He smiled ear-to-ear and gave me the biggest hug. 

It was a great moment. I am truly amazed at his talent, whatever sport we are playing. And I love cheering him on.

A Book You Should Read

I have mentioned my friend Kenny Budd and the book he recently published. I was honored to read through an early draft as he wrote, and just finished reading the final product. It was a wonderful experience reading it all the way through; I enjoyed reading the sections as he wrote it, but really love seeing how it all came together.

Here is a review I posted on Amazon. I highly recommend it!

The Voluntourist is a touching tale of honest self-examination. Memoir can be difficult, because while our lives are important to us, it is challenging to write about our lives in a way that will connect with others. Will readers be able to relate to the experiences I’ve had? Will they care?

In this case, the answer is yes. Ken shares very openly about his life, his struggles, his weaknesses, doubts and questions…he tells beautiful stories of his attempts to make a difference in the world. While he experiences things that most others never do, he shares those experiences in a way that draws the reader in.

His imagery is simple—in a good way. No excessive descriptions, just enough to help the reader get a good feel for the places and people he encounters. The focus is on the people with who Ken works, and how they touch his life.

We feel Ken's joy in the relationships he builds as he travels the world, doing volunteer work in Costa Rica, New Orleans, China, Ecuador, Palestine, and Kenya. We also feel his heartbreak over losing his father, and over his growing understanding and acceptance that he will likely never be a father.

The power of the book is Ken’s journey to see life through the lens of his father, who died too young. Examining his father’s life, and his own, leads him on a spiritual journey that is uniquely his, yet one that almost anyone can relate to.

There are many beautiful scenes involving Ken and the children he works with and comes to love. Especially powerful is an awkward yet beautifully touching story of how Ken, who does not typically pray, goes into a church and prays for the people in his life.

Ken doesn’t try too hard to teach any lessons. By sharing simply about what he has learned, Ken leads the reader to do his/her own self-examination.

The Voluntourist is a very honest book. Ken shares openly about his life and relationships. Like life, there are times when Ken’s story is deeply profound, emotional, gut wrenching… other times when it is clever and very funny.

By sharing stories of adventures in several countries and continents, Ken shows how our world is both big and small; big because of the size and diversity; small because the truth is people are people, and wherever they are, they all strive to find purpose in life.

Ken learns, and then shares with the reader, that life is really about the people in our lives, how they touch us, and how we touch them.

And in the end, The Voluntourist is really a love story—about the love Ken had with his father, the love he has family and friends, the love he has with the children he encounters all over the world, and most of all, the love between Ken and his wife, Julie, a love that grows and matures and overcomes challenges, and grows stronger through Ken’s journey around the world and into himself. 

Thoughts on Supreme Court Ruling today

Some random thoughts about today's news and reactions to it...

I've read from a couple people who are against the Affordable Care Act that "God is still in control, not Obama."

I think they believe today's decision is NOT what God wants. Yet their statements about who is in control would imply that the decision IS what God wants...He is in control, right?

I'm not stating that God is on one side or the other; just think it's interesting that some people are so certain that God is against this, and that those who follow God should also be against it.


I've seen something else interesting in many of the comments I'm reading.

Those who are against the ruling today, and the Affordable Care Act, are mostly talking about how it will affect them:
"how this will affect my taxes..."
"what the government is going to make me do..."


Those on the other side, who are for it, are talking about how it will help other people--the poor, those already sick, etc.

Interesting to see who is more concerned with self, and who is more concerned with others.


Finally, I don't have a problem if you are against the Affordable Care Act. But do you really believe President Obama is evil? That this is a plan to destroy our country?


Even if you think this plan is not a good way to do it, couldn't you consider that the motivation behind it is to help more people?

Getting Older

Yesterday I was playing baseball in the backyard with my boys, and a memory came to me from 35 years ago.

My friend C and I would go out in the back yard, set up a makeshift home plate and pitcher's rubber, and pitch to each other.

One of us would pitch, the other catch; back and forth, for hours. There was no batter, and no hits. Only strikeouts and walks. The catcher made the calls, there was no arguing.

We had fun like that for hours on end, day after day. It was just one of many memories I have of that friendship. C and I have stayed close over the years, we still talk frequently.

As I looked back at those days, I thought about the kids we were--young, innocent, our whole lives ahead.

I remember at C's wedding, 21 years ago, his mother saying she never would have imagined C and I would end up being a doctor and a pastor.

And no one would have imagined that we would now be facing the challenges we are--one of us going through a painful divorce, the other struggling to hold it together while supporting a wife with cancer.

As I stood in the backyard and remembered those days of pitching and catching, I was gripped by a powerful feeling of nostalgia, a feeling that started in my chest and spread through my whole body, like a wave--strong yet warm.

I missed those boys, and the freedom of life at that stage. I thought of where my friend is now, and hurt for the pain he is going through. At the same time, I thought that those days seemed both forever ago, and just a little more than yesterday.

 I've never thought much about mid-life crises, at least for myself. I never felt my age, so wasn't as concerned with getting older.

20 years ago, 50 seemed ancient. Not so much now. It still sounds old, but doesn't feel as old (except on the mornings when I run). But the truth is, I'm sort of in denial; not really grasping the idea that in three years I'll be 50.

Each year we are closer to the end of life, and further from the beginning, but I never really thought about that until I was 40. I know I've lived more than half my life, and that's an unsettling thought.

I also look back at what I've accomplished, and wonder what I still have left to accomplish. I haven't done as much as I wish. I won't go there--I'm a pretty positive person, and not one to sit and lament or complain.

I am very self-aware, I know my strengths and weaknesses, and I am relatively OK with who I am. There is still a lot I want to do, and I guess the pressure now is time. Is there enough time to do what I still want to do?

One thing I have learned to do is slow down, look back, and find joy in the memories. I remember when I was younger, I didn't really enjoy looking back. It made me sad to remember a good time that was over, a season of life that had passed.

But now I find that the memories can actually bring me joy. I can close my eyes and go back to times and places that are gone, but that were good, and meaningful. Rather than regret that they are gone, I find that the memories can lift me up, warm my heart, make me feel good about all that has happened in my life.

I'm going to spend some time writing about some of those memories. Memoir is the type of writing I have most enjoyed. It helps me realize that I have been very blessed in the people and places that have made up my life.

I also find I can look back with a healthy attitude when I am satisfied in the present, and this weekend, I really am.

Jamie is in the midst of cancer treatment, so there is a lot of uncertainty there. We are going through a restructuring at work, and facing a lot of change there. Ten months after moving across the country, I still miss my family and friends in Virginia.

Yet in the midst of it, I have spent a lot of time lately thinking how great my life is. Jamie and I are getting along really well. I love spending time with my kids--we make the most of every minute, especially on the weekends.

And I am reminded that no matter where I am, it all comes down to relationships. My wife and kids. My in-laws. My new friends at work and church. And the joy of the memories of all the people and relationships that have touched my life and made me who I am. I have a good life.

Three hospital trips

On Friday Jamie had her weekly chemo treatment. She was tired from not having slept well the night before, and from the pre-chemo medication; and went to sleep pretty quickly once the treatment started.

I ducked out of the Cancer Center to pick Ashley up from school and run to the pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions.

While I was driving, I got a call from my friend Andy back in Virginia. Last summer he and his wife Erin got some surprising news. Years after thinking they were finished having children (they have two great ones--a boy and a girl), they found out Erin was pregnant.

As I was driving Friday, Andy called to tell me they were on the way to the hospital. I was thrilled that Andy called me at that moment--I miss my friends back home, and getting that call brought a lot of joy.

Andy sounded happy but pretty calm. It sounds like things went smoothly; a few hours later I read about the baby's birth (and saw pictures) on Facebook.

After I got off the phone with Andy, my mind went to hospitals. I pictured Andy and Erin pulling up to the hospital. I remembered my experience in the hospital when my boys were born, the unbelievable joy watching a new life come into this world.

I imagined the excitement Andy and Erin must be feeling, to experience "new parenthood" again after many years.

As often happens, my thoughts wandered, stream-of-consciousness style, to some other friends in a hospital.

Rose and Rich pastor a church in Shoreline. I met Rose at an Emergent Conference years ago. I loved her approach to God and people and ministry, and got to know her and Rich over the years, worshiping and visiting with them every time we came to visit Washington.

Rich and Rose have a son, Ben, who has terminal cancer. Barring a miracle, it looks like Ben's life here is almost over. I cannot imagine the pain of losing one's child (actually, I can, but refuse to let myself--I fear the pain would be too great).

I have followed their journey on Facebook--Ben and his wife recently had their second child. It has been heartbreaking to watch what their family is going through.

The one nugget that does not leave me feeling hopeless about their situation is the faith and strength that Rich and Rose and all their family and friends have shown.

I thought about these people that I love as I drove back to the hospital where my wife was being pumped full of toxic drugs that are hard on her body, but necessary to kill the cancer in her.

I thought of my friends in other hospitals, one experiencing new life, one preparing for death. We are in the middle I guess; anytime you hear the word "cancer" you think of the terrible possibility, but we are very hopeful that the treatment will kill the cancer invading Jamie's body and give her many more years of life.

Going through something like this usually causes one to be more aware of and grateful for life. I know it does for me. In the midst of the craziness and busyness of life these days, I often try to slow down, look around, and smile at the beauty and joy.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I want to enjoy and appreciate and soak up every good and positive moment as it happens. I remember a picture of Ben holding his new baby, and think about how profound that moment was.

We will all experience (or have experienced) the three different situations I thought about in those three hospital trips--birth, healing, and death. And in between them are thousands of amazing moments that make up life.

47

On Monday I turned 47.  Really?  Just doesn't seem possible. I tend to be pretty nostalgic; birthdays can bring that out even more for me. I spent some time looking back...

37. Ten years ago I was in Fort Worth, single and loving life. I was finishing up my sixth year teaching at Heritage Christian Academy, umpiring baseball, and hanging out at the Ballpark in Arlington, Six Flags, and Hope Church. Life was easy, fun, and free.

27. Twenty years ago I was youth pastor at FBC Alexandria, VA. For two years I got paid to play with teenagers, build relationships, teach, preach and learn from some really great people. Life was a blast.

17. Thirty years ago I was getting ready for my senior year in high school. Running track, enjoying great friends, trying to figure out girls. Young, free, pretty ignorant. Sometimes life was great, sometimes not so much.

7. Forty years ago we had just moved to our new home in Dale City, VA. I had a big back yard to play in, great friends, lots of places to explore. Life was fun.

Of course there have been challenges, losses, disappointments and failures, but my life has been pretty darn good. I've had a lot of great friends, been to some neat places and had a variety of experiences.

And although every other 7 year was pretty good, and 47 feels weird, I wouldn't trade it for any of the others.

We recently moved to an incredibly beautiful part of the country. I enjoy my job and the people I work with. We have a nice house in a good neighborhood. Thanks to my parents, we have a trampoline and basketball goal in the backyard.

We have great schools for our kids, and the blessing of Jamie's family and friends nearby. Every day I drive through a beautiful mountain pass, past gorgeous views of a lake and a bay.

And most of all, I have a beautiful wife who I'm still learning about and growing with. I have the three most amazing children in the world who bring me more joy than I've ever known.

Last night the boys had a T-ball game. I love cheering them on. Today we did some shopping, then tonight, Ashley and I put together the basketball goal that my parents got for Brady's birthday.

We had dinner, got everyone in bed, now I'm relaxing, thinking about how great life is.

still choosing joy, or trying to

I recently got a Vizio tablet. Not quite an ipad, but it is somewhat similar, and does a lot of cool stuff, so I like it. I'm typing this post on my tablet, still trying to get used to the touch keyboard. It amazes me how kids today type so fast with just their thumbs.

Anyway, not what I wanted to write about. A couple weeks ago I wrote about choosing joy. Someone asked how I was doing with that; the answer is--not too bad.

I have been trying to keep the phrase "I choose joy" in the forefront. It often slips to the back of my mind, but it's never too far away.

I've had a few days when I've been tired and grumpy, and don't act very joyful, but I think I've been able to come back around better than I usually do.

I do feel like I'm more aware of the good and the positive. Of course the biggest thing in our lives right now is Jamie's cancer. She has had a rough week--very tired, nauseated, dealing with a lot of pain and discomfort. It's got her pretty down.

She has bounced back--went to Ashley's soccer games Friday and Saturday and out to dinner on Saturday. I am proud of how she fights to keep going.

Back to me (not to be self-centered, but it is my blog). It's strange being in this position--walking beside someone with cancer.

I think it's forced us to get along better. I try to be more patient, less reactive.

I think I have been looking for and noticing the things in our lives that do bring joy. When I simply stop and live in those moments, I do rejoice...

• Jamie's treatment has made her more dependent on me. I think I've done a better job than usual of serving her, and she has been very grateful and patient with me.
• The boys had their first T-Ball game last week. It was fantastic watching them get dressed in their uniforms, go out to the park, warm up, and play the game.  
•  4 and 5 year-olds playing T-ball is an organizational mess, but it was beautiful. Both boys hit the ball well. One inning, Brady was on the pitching rubber and Cash played first. They made several good plays together. I was so proud and full of joy watching and cheering them.
• On Sunday we went to the kids' cousin Ira's birthday party. It was a beautiful spring day, sunny, warm. Jamie was worn out but sat on the patio, ate, and watched the kids play. It was a great day. 
• I had a blast watching Ashley play soccer. A few years ago I asked her coach to work with her on being more assertive/aggressive. Boy, did he. Now in high school, she is usually one the smaller players on the field, but is usually the toughest and most aggressive (in a good way).
• Every night we read before bed. It used to be me reading stories to them; but now all three of us read--Brady reads incredibly, and Cash is learning more every day--I am so glad they both love to read
•  One day I picked up the kids and we all went to dinner at Wendy's. It was so much fun just sitting there, laughing and talking while we ate. I got a frosty for the boys and me (Ashley had her own); we sat there taking turns with it; so much fun!

I have a friend (as we all do, or have) going through a divorce. My heart breaks when I talk to him. I cannot imagine going through that--not being able to read with and tuck in the boys each night. Not having those rare, precious moments with my daughter when she is no longer a crazy a teenager, but for a bit becomes my little girl again.

It has made me a little more aware lately of how special those little experiences are--each hug, each kiss, each conversation. Each opportunity to praise them and watch their joy and pride, knowing they have done well and Daddy is pleased.

I pray that I would better see and cherish those moments, and at the same time recognize that those moments are not just between my kids and me, they are also shared with our God, who loves us in a similar way, but bigger, stronger, perfectly.

There are still some situations (and people) that are frustrating in my life. Some things I'd like to change. But I'm trying to not let them bother me too much. Trying to not dwell on them, but turn my thoughts to the good, and beautiful, and encouraging.

With an amazing wife who is full of strength, and the three most beautiful, wonderful children in the world, it's not that hard to do.

The Voluntourist -- A Must Read

Ken Budd is my friend, brother, college roommate, frequent Springsteen concert date, GMU season ticket partner--one of my dearest friends over the last 26 years (wow).

He has been writing for years, but is about to publish a fantastic book; The Voluntourist: A Six-Country Tale of Love, Loss, Fatherhood, Fate, and Singing Bon Jovi in Bethlehem.

I was privileged to read much of it as Ken wrote it, and was blown away by his honesty, insight and humor.

Ken's writing is usually very funny, but it is amazing how his story quickly turns and touches you deeply. I'll do a formal review soon, but want to just share a little about Ken today.

He tells the story of how we first met in his book; but I'll share my version here...

I was in my second semester of college at George Mason University, and was placed in an apartment with Ken. We had never met, and he was already living there when I moved in.

I first showed up about 8 in the morning; Ken was still asleep. One of the first things I noticed were the liquor bottles on the kitchen table. I was a new Christian, recently out of the Army. I went from being  someone who drank A LOT to complete alcohol abstinence (it didn't last long).

I unloaded a few of my belongings and went to class. When I came back, Ken was gone, off to class himself.

I continued to move in and unpack.

When Ken and I finally connected, we talked a little bit. Both of us seemed unsure of the other.

A couple nights after I moved in, Ken got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. He had drunk quite a bit, and fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

I needed to use the bathroom, and wondered what the hell was taking him so long. I finally knocked on the door. I heard him sort of grunt, then he got up and opened the door.

"Sorry about that," he said, and went back to bed.

We have often joked in the years since how we first perceived one another.

When I finally got all moved in, he looked around at my side of the room--shoes all lined up under my bed, bed perfectly made, Jesus posters all over the room--and thought, "My God, my roommate is an anal-retentive, militaristic Jesus Freak."

I looked at the alcohol bottles, bathroom passing-out, and nocturnal schedule and thought, "My God, my roommate is a lazy, late-night party animal well down the road to alcoholism."

We were both wrong. We quickly became close friends and had a great time together in college--late night 7-11 runs for big gulps and cookies...hours watching Letterman when we should have been studying...getting a glimpse of being a minority when we were the only white people in a Literature of Black America class...lots of concerts including Springsteen, U2, Hank Williams Jr., Randy Travis, The Monkees, and many more...late night tennis games and field-goal kicking contests...

We stayed close even when I left for Texas for ten years, and picked right back up when I moved back, going to GMU games and conference tournaments for the past ten years.

We were in each other's weddings, and were there for each other when we both lost our fathers a year apart.

Ken is strong but soft-spoken, very bright, witty, and has a huge heart. Ken and I lived together for a couple years, and have been friends for decades, yet have never had an argument--because Ken is by far the most easy-going guy I've ever known.

I am a better man because he is my friend and has always supported and encouraged me.

But I also love him enough to be honest. If his book stunk, I'd tell him (gently, of course). But it doesn't. Ken is a great writer, and The Voluntourist is a great book.

Read it, I promise you'll be glad you did.

I Choose Joy

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,whenever you face trials of many kinds,  because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

--James 1:2-4

I had one of those great moments with God in church yesterday. It doesn't happen often for me these days. I'm struggling with cynicism--not about God, but about church and people. More on that another time.

But yesterday in church I had a great connection with God. I'm not a "God told me" type of person. But three words came to me as we took communion, and I believe they came from God.

"I choose joy."

The past few months (actually the last few years) have been the most stressful time in my life. We moved, left family and friends, home and comfort, to start a new life on the other side of the country.

I started a new job that is fun and challenging, but brings a lot of pressure.

I am getting used to a new church, trying to make new friends, and learning a new town.

I am trying to help my kids get through the challenges of change and transition.

And in the midst of all this, my wife gets cancer. I have always been very self-aware, but I'm struggling to identify my feelings about all this. I feel for Jamie. Compassion. Sadness. Empathy. I wish this weren't happening to her. I'd rather it were happening to me. I hate being powerless.

I've never been one to worry much about the future (I can worry well enough about the right now.) I don't have anxiety about the future of Jamie's health; I hope and pray that the current course of treatment will take care of everything and that cancer will be only in our past.

Stress has sneaked up on me in recent years. I dealt with very little stress in my 20s and 30s. I was single, very little responsibility; working jobs that I really enjoyed. I had great churches, great friends, and the freedom to do what I wanted.

Life was good, easy, light, simple.

In the last ten years I moved from Texas to Virginia, got married, worked in several fun but challenging jobs, had three children, lost my father, lost a job I loved under difficult circumstances and moved into a season where we struggled financially for several years.

Then we moved and started much of life all over again.

I'm not complaining--I wouldn't change much of what happen. I have lived 46 fun, adventurous, exciting, enjoyable years. I've been able to experience more than most.

I love my wife and my children. I've received a great education, both in the classroom, and in life. I have enjoyed trying different things and working in different jobs and ministries.

I love being a dad more than anything--It brings greater joy than anything I've done, even though it is often challenging and exhausting.

But in the normal flow and change of life, I never realized that my stress level was growing until I hit a point where it was really affecting me--trouble sleeping, worrying like I never had before, making it difficult to stay positive and encouraging.

A recent event has caused my stress to increase again--a situation that has been eating at me, causing me to struggle with anger, envy, disappointment, feeling I've been wronged.

Those feelings had been taking over my thoughts and emotions, until yesterday in church, when those words filled my mind and my heart. "I choose joy."

I choose joy, even when life doesn't seem fair, or just, or make sense. I choose joy, even when there is loss and sadness in my life, or the lives of those around me.

I look back at those years of being single and mostly responsibility-free, and I think part of the reason I was happy and at peace was because I was very much in control of my life. My decisions only affected me for the most part, so I could do what I wanted.

I could choose to do what brought me joy.

Now that I have a wife and three children and house and car and credit card payments and a challenging job, I don't have the freedom to choose everything. I can't control the way my wife or my kids or my co-workers act. I can't control the choices and decisions others make, even when those choices and decisions affect me.

I can't control people's health. I can't control how I feel sometimes.

But I can control how I react to life and to people and to situations. I can choose joy. I can choose to turn my eyes to God. I can choose to be grateful for the good in my life. I can choose to think of my children and the blessing they are.

I can choose to love my family, encourage my co-workers, and do the best I can to help others succeed.

I can choose to ignore the ways others treat me wrongly or disappoint me. 

I can choose to hope. Hope that what feels like injustice will be made right. Hope that God uses everything--even decisions that don't make sense now.

I choose joy. Not because I feel happy. Not because my problems are solved. I choose joy because I have seen God work over and over again, and I trust that He still has more to do in and through me. And I believe that as I choose joy, God strengthens my faith, and calms my heart, and uses me to bless others.

What a weekend

This was supposed to be my best weekend of the year. Every year at the beginning of March, Kenny, Andy, Johnny (and sometimes Jerry and Mark) and I go to Richmond for the Colonial Athletic Association Men's Basketball Tournament.

For the past ten years, I've had a season ticket with these guys for George Mason, our alma mater.

When we started having kids, and life got busier, GMU basketball was really my only "recreation," or thing that I had just for myself.

I love basketball season. I love the energy at the Patriot Center. I love seeing friends that I've been close to for twenty years, and making new friends each season. I love seeing the family that sits behind us each year--I think they had one or two kids when we started; now I think they have five.

And the highlight each year is the trip to Richmond, when we act like we're kids again--eating all the foods we normally avoid, drinking, acting silly, just enjoying being together and responsibility-free for a weekend.

Leaving GMU basketball and my friends was one of the hardest things about leaving Virginia, and I vowed I would still come back each March for the tournament, and the weekend with the guys.

Mom and Jerry gave me a plane ticket for Christmas, and I was all set to fly home for the tournament. Then the whole thing seemed to lose its importance when we found out Jamie had cancer.

So instead of flying to VA, I spent tournament weekend helping take care of my wife after her first chemotherapy treatment. (Although I did get to watch GMU play on the internet.)

There are times I feel pretty selfish--when I get down about missing the weekend. I know Jamie felt bad about me having to miss it--she even told me I could still go.

But as much as I wanted to be there, I also don't want to be anywhere but here; with Jamie and our kids, going through this together.

I still can't quite get my head around the fact that Jamie has cancer. It feels very surreal.

My emotions this weekend were all over the place--sympathy and concern for what Jamie is going through, determination to help her and stay on top of things around the house, longing to be with my friends in Richmond, anger at the randomness and evil methods of cancer, thankfulness in watching Jamie improve over the last few days, and as always, incredible joy playing with my boys, and having wonderful conversations with my daughter.

And a part of me did get to go to Richmond. You've heard of "Flat Stanley"? If not, he's a character made of paper that young students create and send out or take places--helping them learn about different places.

Kenny, who is so creative, made a "Flat Terry." (Terry is my nickname with the guys).

Flat Terry has my face on Will Thomas's (GMU, 2004-2008) body. The guys took him around to the typical Richmond places--Penny Lane, the Capitol Ale House, and the Richmond Coliseum.

They took pictures of Flat Terry and kept me updated on the weekend.

This is the busiest and most stressful life has ever been. Navigating the waters of Jamie's cancer, trying to be a better father and husband, staying on top of a job that I love but that pushes me every day--I've never felt so busy or so much pressure.

In the midst of life's challenges, I pause, and pray, and look ahead; and I believe that next year, we will have weathered this storm. Jamie will be healed and cancer free, we will be loving life in Washington, and I'll be in Richmond with the guys, cheering on the Patriots.