To my son,

Ethan, for the last five days you have been exhibiting a strange new behavior that, quite frankly, makes me nervous. You have been blinking every few seconds, as if there was something in your eyes that is irritating them. At first we thought it was just your hair getting in your eyes, but we cut your bangs and you're still exhibiting the same uncontrollable blinking. Now, this could be any number of things: perhaps you scratched your retina when playing in the sand, maybe you have allergies, or maybe you have one of those developmental tics that kids sometimes get for a brief time and then grow out of just as quickly with no side effects in the future. Whether it's that or something else causing your blinking, I have to confess that it's revealed a parental posture that I need to repent of.


I have already begun to pride myself in you, to live vicariously through your success, and to expect you to be smarter, stronger and more skilled than other kids your age. And while you may be some of these things, I have to confess that I've needed you to be so for all the wrong reasons. I needed it for me, to feel superior as a parent, to build myself up and I confess that I have only placed pressure on you to live up to my expectations. Now, you're only two and a half and I doubt you can recognize daddy's expectations on you, but if this parental posture is left unchecked, I can see it growing even more unhealthy and placing even more pressure on you to perform for me, for your mom, for your friends, and for the world, and that's a hamster wheel that I don't ever want you to be forced to run on!


Son, I love you more than I love myself. I would lay down my life in a heartbeat for you. The last thing I want is for you to have to live to satisfy my insecurities. I want to be able to accept you just as you are, weaknesses, shortcomings, rebelliousness and all. You are my son and I don'e ever want you to feel that you must earn my love or perform for my pleasure. And so, I declare now (and pray God that you would make this true of me) that I accept you just as you are. If you struggle in life with school or addictions, I will still love you and stand beside you. If you rebel and reject my love, I will never reject you or stop loving you. And if you have developmental difficulties, like a nervous tic, I will love and accept that part of you as well, because you are "fearfully and wonderfully made." You are God's work of art, His "poema", formed in his image and endowed with unique skills, gifts and personality traits. You are also my son, and nothing you ever do can change that fact. I love you and always will. I'm so proud to be your daddy!

Savior and Lord

In the Western Church, grace has become the single biggest focus of our message. Consider what we tell prospective believers: “We have all sinned and fallen short, but Jesus Christ has atoned for our sins through death on the cross. All you need to do is accept this gift of grace that he freely offers you.” Sounds about right, doesn’t it? And it is true. The only problem is, while this is a key part of the gospel message, it’s not the entire message of the gospel.

What’s missing?

Consider these exhortations that Jesus gave those who were considering becoming his disciples:

“Repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is near” (Matt.4:17).

“If anyone will come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” (Mark 8:34).

“If you hold to my teaching then you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31).

It seems that, at least according to Jesus, having a relationship with him wasn’t simply a matter of accepting his gift of grace. Grace is a crucial part of our relationship with God, because it reminds us that we can’t earn our righteousness in God’s eyes; however, it’s not everything. Jesus desires to be both Savior AND Lord. He is savior through his willingness to die on the cross to pay the penalty of our sins. But he also wants to be Lord of our life. As Lord, he asks us for everything: our hopes and fears, resources and relationships. He offers us an eternity of intimacy with him, but in order to take hold of it we must be wiling to lay down our lives, pick up our cross and follow him.

So is Jesus both Savior and Lord of your life? Or are you holding back parts of your life from His lordship? If so, you should ask yourself what you hope to gain, and what you may be losing in the process. "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it” (Mark 8:34).

Dancer on the Sand

Crouched in an expectant state,

You watch the wave roll in;

And as it crashes at your feet,

your dancing starts again.

The wild swinging of your arms,

and swaying of your hips,

Relates a sense of carefree joy,

and primal innocence.

Unconscious of the world around,

you move to your own beat,

that pulses through your little head,

and moves your tiny feet.

Unhindered by self-consciousness,

you dance for all to see;

You’re too engrossed in here and now,

to be aware of me.

Now time and teaching will obscure

this fevered beat of life,

And you’ll soon learn to fixate on

responsibility and strife.

But for now you revel in

the moment that’s at hand;

And dance with joy as another wave

comes crashing on the sand.

Lord, grant me now the peace of mind

and heart’s serenity;

So, like this child, I can dance

as you move around me.

I’m sorry for self-centeredness,

that’s stifled joyful feet;

And for my superficial pride,

that drowns out your heart’s beat.

Sweet Discipline

“My child, don’t make light of the Lord’s discipline and don’t give up when he corrects you, for the Lord disciplines those He loves and punishes each one He accepts as His child” (Heb.12:5).

One of the most pervasive beliefs people carry with them into a relationship with God is that He will make life safe and comfortable. And there is no shortage of preachers who are quick to peddle that sentiment in print and the pulpit to an eager audience. But the idea that a life lived in pursuit of Christ should be safe and comfortable would be a foreign concept to the men and women who knew Jesus most intimately, his disciples. Most of them left everything they knew to join him. They faced persecution, ridicule and alienation from their communities; many of them joined Jesus in dying a martyr’s death. And they didn’t walk into this blindly. Jesus himself warned the disciples that in this world they would have trouble, “but take heart, for I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Another time, he stated in no uncertain terms that "if anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.” (Luke 9:23-24). This sounds like a far cry from the type of life the health and wealth preachers are hawking.

So why is it such a surprise when life seems to spin out of control and everything we have found comfort and confidence in are shaken? Why is our first impulse to assess our lives and look for the sin which God must be punishing us for, or to throw up our hands and cry “no fair” to God? Do we really believe that Jesus came to bring us peace and comfort? Have we chosen to follow him because he offers us the best benefits package? Or do we follow him because there is simply no where else to turn – he is the only one who can breath life into us and bring hope and meaning to this broken world?

We shouldn’t be surprised when life doesn’t go as we planned, when our bank account or our health is shaken. These things can easily become idols and why would a loving, jealous God allow us to blithely hold onto things that compete with Him for our allegiance? No, trials in this life are not necessarily a curse; they are often the mark of God’s loving hands on our life, the fingers of the potter molding us into vessels He can use to pour hope and healing in a parched and weary world. Though these trials are seldom welcome and almost never comfortable, they can be exactly what we need to grow and mature.

A friend of mine recently took a tour of a winery just outside of Santa Barbara. As they were walking through the vineyard, the guide said that in order to get the very best fruit from the vines, they literally have to put the plants into a state of distress. He explained that when the vine thinks that it’s going to die, it will pull hard from the soil, deepening its root system and sucking up as much of the nutrients and minerals as it can. In the same way, during our seasons of distress we often experience the greatest level of spiritual growth and maturity because we lean into God and allow Him to sustain us. “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it” (Heb.12:12).

So don’t give up when life doesn’t go as you planned. Rather than resenting God for not protecting you from the pain, have gratitude that He finds you worth nurturing. 

God's Purpose or Mine?

There are a few devotional sources that I regularly read as a way of giving my quiet time some direction as well as opening myself up to a different perspective. One of those sources is Oswald Chamber's "My Utmost for His Highest." I often find myself challenged and encouraged by his perspective on life in pursuit of God. This morning I read the following entry, from July 28 (I'm a little behind). Rather than offer my own take on the topic, I felt compelled to simply let it speak for itself. I hope it blesses and challenges you as much as it did me.

"He made His disciples get into the boat and go before Him to the other side . . ." —Mark 6:45

We tend to think that if Jesus Christ compels us to do something and we are obedient to Him, He will lead us to great success. We should never have the thought that our dreams of success are God’s purpose for us. In fact, His purpose may be exactly the opposite. We have the idea that God is leading us toward a particular end or a desired goal, but He is not. The question of whether or not we arrive at a particular goal is of little importance, and reaching it becomes merely an episode along the way. What we see as only the process of reaching a particular end, God sees as the goal itself.


What is my vision of God’s purpose for me? Whatever it may be, His purpose is for me to  depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay calm, faithful, and unconfused while in the middle of the turmoil of life, the goal of the purpose of God is being accomplished in me. God is not working toward a particular finish— His purpose is the process itself. What He desires for me is that I see “Him walking on the sea” with no shore, no success, nor goal in sight, but simply having the absolute certainty that everything is all right because I see “Him walking on the sea” ( Mark 6:49 ). It is the process, not the outcome, that is glorifying to God.


God’s training is for now, not later. His purpose is for this very minute, not for sometime in the future. We have nothing to do with what will follow our obedience, and we are wrong to concern ourselves with it. What people call preparation, God sees as the goal itself.


God’s purpose is to enable me to see that He can walk on the storms of my life right now. If we have a further goal in mind, we are not paying enough attention to the present time. However, if we realize that moment-by-moment obedience is the goal, then each moment as it comes is precious.

You Don't Know What You're Asking For!

So often, I pray for things that seem right to me:

“God, I want to be more humble, so break the pride in me.”

“God, I want to trust you more. Please increase my faith.”

“God, my life is yours. Please use me to bring you glory.”

I pray these things with the end in mind, but never once taking into consideration what it might require to make these things true of me. Perhaps I think that God will just magically zap me with humility or faith. Yet, as I survey the lives of those who have asked similar things of their God, I quickly begin to see that God’s response was usually neither instantaneous nor comfortable.

Take James and John, two brothers who got to travel with Jesus and watch him minister first hand. At one point in the journey, they asked Jesus to let them sit at his right and left hand, the places of greatest honor, once he came into his glory. Yet, Jesus replies: “You don’t know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?”(Mark 10:38). These two young men thought they were asking to share in Jesus’ honor when he overthrew the Roman occupiers and established his reign over the Kingdom of Israel. They had no idea what following their Lord really meant. Regardless of how many times Jesus tried to warn his disciples that his path to glory was paved with suffering and death, they were still shocked when he was handed over to the Roman authorities to be beaten, mocked and ultimately executed next to common criminals. James and John longed to join Jesus in his glory and went so far as to ask for it outright, but they had no idea that to follow him would mean to share in his suffering.

Or consider Mother Teresa, whom we hold up as a paradigm of the faith. She asked God to allow her to join him in his work, to be used for His glory, and she was answered with…silence. Her personal journals reveal that throughout five decades of ministry to the poor in Calcutta, she felt an immense loneliness and disconnection to her God. What makes this silence so remarkable is that it came right on the heels of God’s call for her to move from the relative comfort of teaching in a convent to living amongst the sick and destitute in the streets of Calcutta. One priest who has studied Mother Teresa’s life closely shared that “for this woman who loved God above everything else, loss of the divine presence was the ultimate sacrifice that emptied her soul but mysteriously energized her mission.”

As a father, I have often prayed for my son, asking God to bless him with things like strength, maturity, and a strong faith in Him. But I have to admit that I rarely, if ever, think about how God will develop these qualities in my son. Recently, a close friend of mine related the following experience to me: He had just put his children to bed and was spending some time praying for each of them. As he prayed for his son, asking God to make him a strong man of faith who was a strong and mature leader, he distinctly heard God say: “You know I’m going to have to hurt him, don’t you?” My friend admitted that upon hearing this he physically shrank back, as if trying to protect his son from God. “No,” he thought, “bless him but don’t hurt him.” Yet, as he thought about it, God revealed to him that trials and pain really are the most direct path to growth. No athlete can prepare for competition without experiencing the pain of practice. And no soil can be prepared for the seed without the sharp sting of the plow. Similarly, it’s through pain and hardship that we develop perseverance and strength. It’s in the midst of trials that we develop maturity. And it’s only when we realize that our own strength and determination are not up to the task that we learn to lean on God and faith is developed.  It’s easy to ask for things like strength and faith, patience and maturity without thinking about the ways in which God will develop these things in us.

John Newton experienced this fact first hand. He was a converted slave trader who longed to grow in his spiritual maturity and intimacy with God. Yet, as his poetic confession reveals, he never anticipated the way God would answer his prayers:

I asked the Lord that I might grow
  In faith and love and every grace
Might more of His salvation know
  And seek more earnestly His face

‘Twas He who taught me thus to pray
  And He I trust has answered prayer
But it has been in such a way
  As almost drove me to despair

I hoped that in some favored hour
  At once He'd answer my request
And by His love's constraining power
  Subdue my sins and give me rest

Instead of this He made me feel
  The hidden evils of my heart
And let the angry powers of Hell
  Assault my soul in every part.

Yea more with His own hand He seemed
  Intent to aggravate my woe
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
  Cast out my feelings, laid me low

“Lord why is this?” I trembling cried.
  “Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?”
"’Tis in this way" The Lord replied
  "I answer prayer for grace and faith"

“These inward trials I employ
  From self and pride to set thee free,
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
  That thou might find thy all in me."

Things I Left in the Valley of Despair

I walk along a painful path 

I never hoped to see,

A trail of tears and sorrow, 

paved with insecurity.

I long to run ahead, 

to leave this valley that I’m in,

To find a greener pasture 

and forget where I have been.

The place where I have come from 

is so very far away,

And I can’t see the end in sight, 

so in the valley I must stay.

Yet I suspect this wasteland 

is right where I need to be,

And all this pain is healing 

something deep-seated in me.

For as I turn and survey 

the broken path which I have trod,

I see a trail of cast-off armor 

strewn along the dusty sod.

Over there are the boots of business, 

now worn thin from overuse,

And the breastplate of indifference 

that helped me stay emotionally aloof.

There’s the shield of self-sufficiency, 

which I always hid behind,

And the helmet plumed with pride, 

which always seemed to make me blind.

A part of me wants to double back, 

to collect the things I’ve left below,

Those vestiges of “masculinity” 

that I forged so long ago;

Perhaps I thought they’d make me look 

like the man I hoped to be,

Or protect my heart from the wounds 

that relationships inflict so naturally.

But all they did was weigh me down 

with loads of anxiousness,

Not to mention fear and shame, 

anger and distress.

True, you may say, I’m more vulnerable 

without my armored shell,

And perhaps I should collect the pieces 

from the places where they fell,

But I’m content to let them stay 

along the path where they now lie,

And journey onward through this valley 

where my false-self came to die.