Lately it feels as though you’re doing a tightrope dance with the devil himself. He seduces you like an angel of light in one ear and shames you for all your failures in the other. Your life feels, even smells like a sulfurous war zone and it sure seems as though the casualties are piling up. But in the quake and the fury, there’s one and only one thing you need to know…
God’s got this. All you have to do is trust Him. And say “thank you.”
Like a broken cash register, your money drawer only seems to open when it time to shell it out to somebody else. From disaster salesmen to debt collectors, everybody’s standing with an outstretched hand. There’s always another reason to fret over this thing called The Economy, and even a box of Girl Scout cookies feels like a sacrificial charitable donation. But in the fear and loathing-, there’s one and only one thing you need to know…
God’s got this. All you have to do is trust Him. And say “thank you.” [click to continue…]
Did you know that a golf ball has a sweet spot? The next time you tee one up, position it so that you’re hitting the label… hopefully with the sweet spot of your driver.
Did you know that a Christian life has a sweet spot too?
I have made many discoveries over the years, and many of them have been impactful. But this is one of the most important, powerful, and life-changing principles I have ever made in 40-plus years of being a Christian. This is going to sound a little over-the-top, but if you master this one principle, the transformation in your own life, to say nothing of your influence and circumstances, can be breathtaking.
On a broader scale, if the people you worship and fellowship with could really get this as a church, there is no limit to the influence you display.
Getting this – I mean really getting it – can explain why you tend to sabotage yourself after you’ve made progress toward a goal.
It may explain why your relationships go in frustrating cycles – hot today, cold tomorrow… intimate today, lonely later.
It may explain why you may have a lot of money or no money and not be affected one way or another in terms of your happiness or joy.
Discovering and practicing this one simple (didn’t say “easy”) idea can give you a shortcut to solving problems, healing relationships, and moving forward in every single area of your life.
Interested?
At least curious?
Okay, check back tomorrow.
Just kidding. [click to continue…]
(Fumes, Form and Fashion, Part 4)
Phillip and Amanda are an item. Second marriage for him, first for her. Two kids together. Christians. Raising the family. Paying the bills. Doing life.
And they’re both exhausted. It’s more a case of life doing them.
Phillip, as mentioned here, is nearing 40 and finds himself yearning for a return to more structure and discipline that kept him in shape, both spiritually and physically.
Amanda, as mentioned here finds herself choking emotionally and desperate for some sort of life-energizing change.
They each have a sincere faith in God and are committed to each other. They each are mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted.
They need to hear the voice of God in a fresh way.
They both, but especially Phillip, need to go back to the basics.
They both, but especially Amanda, need a change in scenery, starting with that internal scenery we call vision.
And they both are on the cusp of something new and exciting.
And unbearably stupid. [click to continue…]
(Fumes, Form, and Fashion, Part 3)
Suffocating. That’s how Amanda describes it. No, the office walls aren’t literally closing in on her. She isn’t fighting with anyone at work, home, or anywhere else. In fact, everything is really calm. Predictable. Safe. Consistent.
Or, to hear Amanda describe it, boring, ritualistic, depressing. Yes, suffocating.
Everything on the outside speaks of steady in an unsteady world. But something inside the 33-year-old wife, mother, and loan processor at the local bank is screaming for something new. Different. Something alive.
Amanda needs renewal.
What she may not realize is that with the urge to resurge, she’s standing at a dangerous fork in the road. More on that in a minute. [click to continue…]
(Fumes, Form, and Fashion, Part 2)
Something in the woods near his grandfather’s farm seems to call to Adam. Ever since he was a little boy and his dad took him hiking or hunting there, this is the place where Adam, now a father himself, returns. It doesn’t happen nearly as often or nearly enough these days. After all, Adam has responsibilities and stresses, and there never seems to be enough time.
For Phillip, it means a return to old disciplines that kept him in good shape throughout his 20s. Now pushing 40, the problem for Phillip isn’t knowing what to do. It’s finding the will to actually do it.
Jacob follows the trail of his biblical namesake. Just as the Lord called the patriarch back to Bethel – a place where he had previously encountered the Lord – so also Jacob is sensing a stirring to return to a place of spiritual life and growth he has known in the past.
Each of these are examples of a powerful and important tool of renewal and restoration, regardless of who you are. But this is particularly true of men. It’s why you often hear football coaches talk about “going back to the fundamentals.” The biblical language mentions things like “remembering the former days.” Check this out: [click to continue…]
(Fumes, Form and Fashion, Part 1)
Thomas Watson Sr., founder of IBM, often said, “Everybody, from time to time, should take a step back and watch himself go by.”
Good wisdom. But hardly lived. It’s reminiscent of the often-repeated story of the African (or Incan, depending on what you read) porters who carried the goods of an English (or American) type-A personality through the jungle with increasing pace for three days. Finally, on the fourth day, they matter-of-factly refused to go further, despite the pleas of the Western, time-bound explorers. When asked for an explanation, they simply said, “We have been traveling so fast, we have to wait for our souls to catch up with us.”
There’s a simple word for that, often reserved for quaint memories of the good old days or emergency sessions of the Jesus Name Disaster Management Club. It’s called renewal. [click to continue…]
I got chided a little this morning for good reason. Some desperately hurting people had written comments to this post, sharing the depths of their pain, fear, frustration and even torment, and I had failed to respond to any of them.
And though it’s a little foolish to lump the hurts of people all together in one reply, I did. You can find this response also in the comments section there (#10 added later), but I thought I would share it with a larger readership with the hope that maybe it would be an encouragement to you or someone you care about. God knows it isn’t the last word on pain. It’s just what I’ve learned through some of my own.
Below is my reply. [click to continue…]
One of my favorite pics of Grandpaw and Button
It was one of the many differences between us. Maybe it was generational. Maybe it had more to do with personality. I don’t know. To me it was silly at best, annoying it worst.
Corny, that’s it. It was corny.
But my dad did it without apology, and routinely yucked about it.
“This is so-and-so,” he would say, “but I call him [insert nickname here].”
To know him well enough to banter at all – which for him meant more than one conversation – usually earned you some sort of nickname.
The manager of the local bank: “I call her Cuz.”
A friend and pastor’s wife: “Here comes Trouble.”
His and Dean’s friend Dolores got a play on the pronunciation, for no apparent reason: “Doh-loh-reez.” [click to continue…]
You’ve probably never heard of Yarbo. Unless, of course, you’ve spent some time tooling through Washington County, Alabama. This unincorporated community, positioned halfway between Chatom and Millry, flies by your car window pretty fast on Highway 17. A couple of old chicken houses, an abandoned softball field, a few house trailers, that’s about it.
At least that’s how it looks through my window. Yarbo is a place on the way to some other place.
My dad had a different view.
On his regular excursions between Millry, his home at the time, and Chatom or Mobile, he would notice a singular figure sitting in the shade of one of those mobile homes. An older black gentleman would spend hours there, offering a friendly wave at passers-by. And there in the warmth of those Southwest Alabama summer days, my father found a kindred spirit.
He waved back.
Eventually he came to look for his nameless friend and would make a point of tooting his horn and waving. Though separated by all the things that make for TV news sound bites – race and economic status and culture and probably politics – each of these men found in a simple gesture a point of connection.
That wasn’t enough for my dad. [click to continue…]
I started writing this last Wednesday with an urgent prayer that I would get home in time to see my dad before he passed away. What would normally have been a routine knee replacement surgery poked a vicious bear called Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. He would never leave the hospital.
Lynchburg to Charlotte
On the plane headed home from Lynchburg. Going home to a father who is going home himself. It seems that everybody – including him – has concluded that there is no fight left. He gets weaker every day and this morning he has some sort of infection that requires everybody to wear a glove and mask to be in the room with him.
I postponed the weekend trip to Lubbock. Cassie and Joel are on the way. They will get to Mobile ten minutes before I do. It’s just a matter of time.
It was both distracting and comforting to be at a conference filled with worship leaders, listening to people sing about victory over death and the power of the blood of Jesus – even the old standby “I’ll Fly Away.” It takes on a totally new meaning when my daddy is about to be doing the flying. [click to continue…]