Palm Branches and Late Night TV

Do you remember the days as a kid waking up in the middle of the night by the sudden surge of last  night's dinner rearing it's dreadful face?

Splattered on the floor because you couldn't tiptoe your way to the bathroom without your night light on, and all you knew to do was whisper, "Mom, I need you!"

Lights on. Hovered over the toilet. Cold damp rag now placed on the back of your neck. A couple of saltine crackers and a small glass of ginger ale. That nauseating feeling now at bay after several heaves into some porcelain bowl. "Lord, please let this cup pass from me!"

You make your way to the living room sofa with a new set of PJ's. Your mom turns on the TV with you favorite popcorn bowl resting by your side until you doze off to sleep again.

All you can hope for is, "morning is coming!" When all will be made right by cheese toast, a glass of orange juice, and a fading memory of last night's horrific scene that formed a trail of slightly used spaghetti noodles down the hallway.

My mom and sister still get a kick at reminding me how bad of a patient I was as a kid, moaning and whining and complaining about how bad I was feeling. I was a terrible patient. I showed a low tolerance for pain and discomfort.

Just to be clear, I hate pain and suffering. It's seems so emasculating. And to think that pain is sometimes necessary is despicable to me.

I prefer comfort and convenience. And, in most cases, I like to be in control. Every 'i' dotted and every 't' crossed. Writing out my story where I get everything I ever wanted and seeing the story through to the end.

Can you imagine the Sunday before Easter? Palm Sunday as they call it. Jesus entering the streets of Jerusalem far from sickness and discomfort. In effect, the complete opposite. People laying down palm branches as He comes riding into town on a donkey. He's being treated like a king.

Those are the days we prefer. Everything lined up perfectly, going as planned. Celebrations. Parties. The rent is paid. The power still on. Maybe even a promotion. The kids' report cards have great marks. A weekend getaway just around the corner.

But you see, Jesus knew Friday was coming. We call it Good Friday. But it was far from good for those standing by who had truly cherished His friendship and committed their lives to following Him.

Later in the week He would be wrongfully accused, arrested, beaten, and crucified. Before His arrest, He would pray, "If there be any way, let this cup pass from Me!" He understood the suffering that would soon be upon Him.

Not the suffering of some virus like the flu or chicken pox. Not the suffering of smashing His finger with a hammer on His latest carpentry project. Not the suffering of cancer or a terrible auto accident. But the suffering caused by separation from the Father's presence as He bore weight of the world's sins upon His shoulders on the cross.

One of the ways that makes His suffering different than ours is that He suffered well. He embraced the suffering when He concluded His prayer with "Nevertheless, not My will but Your will be done." More importantly than escaping the suffering, as we often attempt to do, He stood in the gap and accomplished God's eternal purposes that required His suffering for your sake and mine.

While hanging on the cross, instead of blaming others for false accusations or calling out judgment for their evil deeds, He graciously asked the Father to forgive them. His crucifixion was not only the atoning sacrifice for sins but it became the catalyst for reconciliation into the family of God.

You and I would do well to see the example of Christ as an opportunity to learn to suffer well. To embrace the struggle. To let God's hand complete His work in us. To trust that what He's doing will bring about His intended purpose. To ultimately give Him His due glory.

It's normal to become angry, to place blame, to cast judgment, to feel ashamed. Those are real emotions and responses attached to every person's sinful, fallen nature. And living life with others makes these feelings even more real. But suffering well is holding on to a promise beyond the momentary afflictions we face in this life.

In spite of all that seemed to go wrong on Good Friday, Jesus knew something that His followers failed to see; Sunday is coming!

Fight or Flight

I'm a runner.

When talking with people about the weather or sports occasionally the subject of diet and exercise comes up and they make assumptions like, "Oh, you must be in really good shape."

Yes my hairstyle makes me more aerodynamic and yes I have a high metabolism. But if you think I'm cranking out countless miles on a treadmill at the gym, weaving in and out of traffic around town, or dodging trees through the woods, I'm sorry. But you're wrong.

I'm not in great shape but I can definitely play the part. There are other areas that we can all play the part as well. And one area I often try to play the part is relational conflict. When it comes to conflict in relationships we can choose fight or flight.

Remember, I said I was a runner. Not on the steady incline of some machine or the winding trails in the great outdoors. Mainly just from conversations that begin escalating from differing opinions and dodging words that cut deep to the heart.

I'm not the Rocky Balboa of relationships where I stand in there and take the punches looking to hold out for victory in the final round. I'm more like the Usain Bolt of conflict. When conflict arises, I jet.

The real question isn't do we fight or flight; it's, what are we doing to resolve the conflict.

This is for the fighters. Listen. This is for those who want to go the distance. What if you just stand in there and listen? Not contemplating your next move. The next phrase that will set the conversation on edge. No retaliation. No points to be counted. Not looking to see who wins this round. Just listen.

Begin to consider how and why they feel the way they do. Why they see the situation the way they do. What about their past and present circumstances are causing them to respond the way they are. It doesn't mean they're right. It simply means that their words, feelings, and thoughts are valuable. To you.

Then apologize. Perhaps you've stood there before throwing shot after shot with verbal jabs toward your opponent. Now it's time to own your part. Own your mistakes. Your selfish words. The bitterness that's rooted deep down inside that's been leading you to fight. And apologize.

Your offensive weapon of words isn't meant to beat down or crush spirits in this moment. It's meant for restoration. And it begins by choosing to admit your own faults. To apologize. To repent. Will it be easy? Certainly not. But that's the best response for resolving conflict and reconciling your relationships.

And to the runners; forgive and speak the truth. Flight should not be option numero uno. Stand in the gap. Relationships won't grow with gaps. "But you don't know what they've done?" You're right; I don't. But I know what we've all done to ruin the most important relationship we could ever have.

We all have faults. And our primary job is not to point out the speck in others' eyes. It's to remove the log of wrongdoing from our own eyes. Start by forgiving yourself. Sure, their words and actions can cut deeply. But our own internal accusations of ourselves can be just as damaging.

Avoiding conflict or running from the circumstances that simply add more baggage to the emotional suitcase we're carrying will only weigh us down even more. You've guarded against the emotional angst as best you can and now it's your turn. Stop. Forgive. Then, speak the truth. Start with you. Not them. Your attitude. Not theirs. Your hang-ups and bad habits. Not theirs.

Forgiving and speaking the truth keeps us in the fight. When we forgive others we free ourselves and when we speak the truth it provides a stronger bond to endure the next moment of conflict in our future. No more running. No more avoiding the situation. No more refusing to acknowledge the need for forgiveness and truth.

In most instances we have developed conflict management mechanisms to fight or flight by repeatedly choosing one or the other in past experiences. In either case, both require the necessity of change.

For the fighters, listen and apologize. But empty apologies void of true change are worthless. For the flighters, forgive and speak the truth. To remain bitter or never address the real issues by speaking the truth will cause the cycle of unresolved conflict to continue. There must be change. Where conflict is present, may grace and the desire for reconciliation be present all the more.

Disclaimer: While conflict is a natural part of all relationships, please know that abusive relationships are not. This topic in no way condones the emotional or physical abuse of another person. Conflict arises when differing views are shared. Verbal and physical dominance to control or manipulate others in relationships should not be expected or accepted. If you are in an abusive situation please seek professional help or contact local authorities.

Grateful Meter

I hate big cities.

Maybe that's not completely true.

Big cities provide great opportunities for careers and are rich in entertainment. Restaurants, museums, and stadiums. It's a place that's unique to all kinds of diversity shaping culture through fashion and the technology industry.

But I'm a small town guy.

Often what I see in big cities is traffic jams. What I hear is car horns. What I smell is exhaust fumes.

I like driving my 4x4 truck on dirt roads with the windows down. The smell of freshly cut grass in the summer and brush fires in the fall. Trips to the mountains. Or the lake. And wide open fields.

I have found myself driving in circles on downtown city streets looking for a place to park. Wandering around the block for a place to put my rental. And wouldn't you know it? A parking meter. Really! You're gonna charge me to park my car here when I'm about to go and spend who knows how much in these little shops up and down your street.

I have received fines for parking illegally [too close to a fire hydrant apparently] and traveling through the wrong lane at a toll booth on more than one occasion. And the most aggravating part was the car rental company charged me triple, did you hear me, triple, the cost of the fine.

The time on the parking meter expired and I got a fine. And my anger meter exploded.

Ok. So it was my mistake. Wrong lane. Not enough time on the meter. Parking on the curb questionably marked as off limits. But a fine? The rental company charging triple the amount of the fine? Was that really necessary?

And that's how it happens! When the rage meter rises the grateful meter is depleted.

Why are we not grateful?

Pride restrains gratitude. We think we deserve all that we have. We feel entitled to collect our wages. Our hard work has become the beckoning call for all that's good in our lives. We never pause to consider that our riches could simply be a gift from another but rather a collections agency making a return on our investment over time.

Greed restrains gratitude. We simply want more. Contentment isn't in our vocabulary. We can't appreciate or be satisfied with what we currently have because we're certain a higher dose of whatever we're chasing is necessary to gratify our desires.

Impatience restrains gratitude. We not only want more, we want it now. The high pressure demands of having those things we think will satisfy immediately are evidenced by commercials and solicitations all around us everyday. Every moment that unfolds and every memory that's collected is a token that we embezzle or exchange. And our demand to quickly change the channel of our circumstances for more proves our lack of thankfulness for those tokens of gratitude.

Why should we be grateful?

Gratitude leads to forgiveness and healing. We chase possessions, status symbols, and relationships that become poor substitutes for creating an identity that leaves us feeling empty and discontent. Gratitude begins when our lives are measured by the forgiveness of our Creator that constitutes a healing of our soul to find Him as our greatest treasure and joy.

Gratitude leads to freedom. When gratitude is lacking it permeates the feeling of a prison. A cold, dark, lonely cell of our own doing. A place void of others’ attention and affection. Bound up in feelings of loneliness and desperation. But if we're honest, we would much rather experience the feelings associated with charity and compassion in the context of community. And sharing our experiences with others leads to a freedom that's best expressed in deeply woven relationships that provide security and hope.

Gratitude leads to generosity. Giving avenges greed. Hoarding for ourselves the monuments of materialism builds cobwebs in the generosity compartment of our hearts. When we recognize that not all of life's possessions are the result of our hard work but generous gifts from someone else, then, we will begin to embrace the concept of passing it on for the good of others. A grateful heart can be recognized by the loosening of our white-knuckled grip on precious possessions given away for the good of others.

How do we show gratitude?

Say it. It's amazing the number of people who have developed cold-hearted bitterness toward others simply because they never believed they were appreciated. Their actions seemed to go unnoticed or taken for granted. And perhaps all it would have taken was a short phrase like, "I'm thankful for you." Rather than making assumptions that others know how grateful we are for them it's better to leave no doubt and make a concerted effort to let them know.

Share it. Practice the art of gift giving. We often see the task of generosity too overwhelming or unfair to those whom we can't help. I once heard a guy say, "do for one what you wish you could do for everyone." Other times we're afraid that our generosity won't be reciprocated. And that's not generosity at all. Release yourself from the prison of greed. Give without the expectation of return from others knowing that real gratitude is rooted in something [Someone] much more deeply than the human connection we make with gifts and possessions.

It's time to reset the grateful meter. When life becomes more about others than it does about ourselves we will become more inclined to give out of the profound richness of what we've received. Be grateful! And prove your gratitude by thanking others through word and deed!

Annoyed

Who do you know that absolutely annoys the mess out of you?

People on the phone in the supermarket. Fanatics at the sports bar. People always trying to make an appearance. Texting and driving. People who go on social media rants. People who talk too much. Laugh too much. Cry too much. Skinny jeans. Yoga pants. Dads living their dreams through their sons. Moms dressing like their teenage daughters. Those flaunting their wealth of knowledge or cash. The know it all's and the have it all's.

They're just plain annoying.

But there's a good chance that on some occasions we can be the most annoying person in the room as well. Seriously. I make myself so mad. Sometimes I annoy myself. These little quirks that I have. I often think to myself, "Why did I do that? Why did I say that? Why did I think that? Why did I wear that? Why did I go there?"

Do you know what else annoys me? Statements in the Bible. Statements like:

Sin has consequences. Morality doesn't heal heart issues. Forgiveness is costly. Those who find life must lose it. Giving is better than receiving. Humility is preferred over pride. Generosity and greed can't cohabitate. Suffering is inevitable.

These truths are unsettling. They disrupt my lifestyle. It seems like God, the Bible, Jesus wants to interrupt my regularly scheduled program of doing things my own way. Christianity interferes with the god of 'me.' And to be honest, it's annoying.

I want to do things my way. Go where I want. Do what I want. When I want. With whom I want. Without anyone telling me what to do, how to think, or where to be.

But I can't.

Some time ago I read this verse in the Bible, [they were] greatly annoyed because they were teaching the people and proclaiming Jesus (Acts 4:2). For way too much of my life I have been annoyed just like those religious leaders. People carrying out the mission of God while I sat idly by being annoyed by their fanaticism. Watching their lives being poured out for the singular purpose of bringing glory and honor to God.

And through that verse there's been a conviction brought on my life that is driving me toward a greater faith and fearlessness to accomplish His purposes in me.

I, like Paul, have decided to make it my mission to live by this anthem, "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now liv in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:20).

I suppose I will still be annoyed. Annoyed by my own tendencies to shrink back from doing what I know I ought. Giving in to those temptations that simply please myself and feed my flesh. Annoyed by my own sinful habits instead of the habits of others. But with every moment of annoyance I hope I'm brought back to this phrase, "[He] loved me and gave himself for me."

House Divided

"Roll Tide!"

"Beat Bama!"

You see it on car tags. Coffee mugs. Key chains. Front porch banners.

Phrases like "Gators and Dawgs!" "Trojans and Bruins!" "Buckeyes and Wolverines!" "Longhorns and Sooners!"

How did you miss this conversation? You could've had this anywhere. Over lunch. At the gym. On your first date. Marriage counseling.

Most of us are born into it. Others, crazy enough, marry into it.

Some of us are won by the sheer loyalty of the fans around us. It's persuasion at its finest!

Family. Friends. Laughing. Playing. But that one day, that 3rd Saturday in October, is better left alone. Give them space. Maybe a whole other house altogether.

Tomorrow we can be friends but today, today, we fight to the death!

Before every game we hear the national anthem. Some standing. Some kneeling. All listening. Then cheering. And the game begins. In the trenches. Between the hedges. And for a moment our patriotism is put on hold as we place our lock, stock, and barrel of allegiance on our team.

We can befriend strangers in the stadiums, tailgates, and bars so long as they root for our favorite team. And create enemies out of allies for anyone sporting opposing teams' jerseys on game day.

This division with others can become brutal though. What begins as a joke or small jabs at someone else because their team lost or their coach was fired begins to create irritating tension.

It's incredible to think how united or divided we can become by the entertainment of watching guys running and throwing a ball around the field. And the attitudes created on Saturday night that carry over into Sunday conversations at lunch.

It's a thing of worship, really. Those coaches, players, stadiums, mascots, our alma mater, have been placed on a pedestal of praise. Or perhaps even lamenting in sackcloth and ashes.

Worship is a war zone. Pledges like "this is our house," "our year," "next year" come bellowing out of painted faces like Mel Gibson in Braveheart.

And here I find this internal struggle woven deep into my own soul; a house divided.

Here's the struggle. I do things I don't wanna do and neglect doing things I know I ought to do. That's a paraphrase of Paul's struggle in his letter to the Romans. But it's true for me too.

This body of mine is lugging around thoughts, perceptions, and predispositions that have been shaped by circumstances and conversations since childhood. These small cartoon character-like figurines sitting on my shoulders whispering in my ear, "do this" or "do that."

This war for my affection is manifesting itself as a form of worship in my soul.

It's a craving to feed my flesh or my faith. This predisposition to figure things out on my own, to be good enough, to hide the less than stellar parts of who I am. Or the alternative; to admit that I don't have it figured out, I'll never be good enough on my own, and there's One who already knows every part of my being and loves me anyway.

I don't want to be a house divided. I don't want this temple of a body to continually battle between good and evil, but unfortunately, I was born this way. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love" the songwriter penned.

The good news is as long as I'm fighting there's still hope. There's hope to overcome the tactics of the enemy. To overcome obstacles standing in the way. And overcoming the struggle strengthens my devotion. My obsession. My passion.

Everyday I must suit up for battle. To beat the enemy into the ground. To beat my flesh to death. And every win allows my heart to enjoy the life I was meant to live; a life of freedom found only in the victory of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!

So today, today, we fight to the death! We put to death every tendency that is trying to destroy this temple, this house, from representing team Jesus!

A Black Eye in Sports

Do you know what's the best thing about being hit in the face with a baseball bat?

Nothing! Who in the world could find good in that?

I was a teenager and it was the week before school. My neighbor and I were shooting basketball in the driveway. Breaking ankles. Dropping dimes. Making buckets.

Then somebody had the brilliant idea, "Hey, hit the basketball with this baseball bat!"

I should've remembered something from science class that said "for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction." Newton was brilliant! And as quickly as my bat struck that basketball it ricocheted back against my face. And did it ever hurt my face. And my ego!

How would you like to show up on the first day of school with a black eye and a humiliating story like that to make it even worse? Thank goodness there wasn't YouTube, Facebook, or SnapChat!

The only bright spot that day, and really for the next week, was the shiner around my eye.

We all have stories like that. Some funny. Others not so much. But stories, nonetheless, that we're constantly having to choose between pressing play or the eject button of our mind.

Abandoned. Ashamed. Betrayed. Cancer. Death. Desperate. Divorce. Finances. Grief. Guilt. Heartache. Hunger. Loss. Misunderstood. Poverty. Self-esteem. Suffering. Tragedy. Unwanted. And the list goes on.

We all have stories we wish we could change or wish would've never happened. And for some reason we feel like our experiences are unique and no one else struggles like we do. So we blame others for how we're feeling or hide in fear of being found out.

But we must learn to own our experiences without being defined by them. To realize we all struggle and we can actually learn from our past experiences and share in the process of moving forward when we're honest with others.

Looking back on that dreadful baseball bat experience I've come to realize this; I can relate, on some level, to everyone who's been hit with a baseball bat. I know it may sound silly but we have a common shared experience.

Some 2,000 years ago a man by the name of Jesus comes onto the stage. His incarnation had been forecasted for centuries. And now the time had come. A king was coming onto the stage of human history!

The people of Israel had been waiting and they were ready for justice to be served, their land to be preserved, and their journey to political, religious, and economic prominence to be restored. But what a twist in the anticipated storyline of a coming kingdom. No palace. No servants. No royal festivities. Talk about a major letdown!

He was born in a stable and placed in a feed trough so He understood poverty. He was questioned by His own family when they left Him in the city. He was in the wilderness and became hungry. He spoke of being homeless. He was surrounded by sick people. One of His best friends died.

He was called into question about paying taxes. He was criticized for having dinner with tax collectors. He was wrongfully accused by the religious and political authorities. He was stripped of his clothes and publicly humiliated. He was abandoned by his friends. He was mocked, beaten, and crucified.

His name; God with us. Jesus came. Why? To eliminate every excuse. He became like us, clothed in humanity, to feel, to think, to experience all the toils of this world. To have empathy for the world He loves.

God is not a god who doesn't understand. He completely understands. He humbled himself and came to this earth. He was tempted in every way just as we are. And He came out on the other side; blameless. In essence, He can, on some level, relate to every struggle we have ever experienced.

If He can predict His suffering, death, and resurrection then my confidence remains high that He will keep this promise; I will be with you. He will not abandon us. I really believe this; He's closer than you think. And you can trust Him!

Irrevocable

Have you ever had your driver's license suspended?

Just wondering...

I suppose if you're a person whose schedule requires you to drive a vehicle from here to there, then, having your license revoked would create quite a hassle.

At which point you would have a significant decision to make: choose to break the law or be at the mercy of the next available Uber?

Isn't that kind of the way the world works? At any given moment in time we can be handed a title, a position, a responsibility, even a gift and in a matter of seconds it can all be taken away...

Revoked!

I remember years ago setting in front of the computer at the DMV successfully completing the test for my driving permit. I was a real licensed driver. Under close supervision, of course, but a licensed driver nonetheless.

A year later, sitting behind the wheel, ready to show the world my skills, I parallel parked my mom's mini van like a boss. [Actually, it may not have been a mini van.]

I was rocking this driving thing turn after turn. Until...

Until the attendant said, "Did you notice that sign?" "Sign?" I guess not. But I should have. The big white sign with black letters that said, "NO TURN ON RED."

I didn't break the speed limit. I didn't change lanes without a signal. I didn't run a stop sign.

But I made one fatal mistake. After looking both ways multiple times, I forgot to look up. And it cost me dearly. I was a mere 200 feet from the finish line only to hear her say, "I'm sorry. You will not be able to receive your license today."

Denied.

Is it any wonder why so many people walk through life the way they do? Looking for land mines and waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under their feet.

Why?

Because the thought of revocation is frightening. Rejection is painful and sometimes too difficult to handle. To be denied becomes a form of brutality to our souls.

There was a time when life's circumstances had placed all odds against my favor. I looked up and felt abandoned. I looked within and felt so empty. I looked around and it seemed like the people that mattered were busy and preoccupied. And I began to question all that I had ever known.

We're convinced that nothing is permanent. That nothing can last a lifetime. That jobs will be lost. Promises will be broken. Our greatest treasures will lose their value. That even the good gifts of life can be taken back.

And yet I'm supposed to believe some anomaly that there is this one person making this one promise that I can take to the bank. Yeah right! Why should I believe that? If everything and everybody in the world has the capacity to fail me, why should I trust anyone?

And yet there's this one phrase tucked away in a letter written by this rebel, a murderer, after his life had been transformed by the God of the universe, "the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable."

That what this God says and what this God gives cannot be taken back. That's incredible! God is making irreversible promises to His people and no form of evil, not even our own selfish desires, can thwart His inscrutable ways.

There is no question that God placed an undeniable call on my life. And that call has been more clear than any word ever spoken over me. More than my parents' words. My teachers' words. My coaches' words. More than any word meant for pain.

What God established before the foundation of the world will never been shaken. The word that brought light out of darkness and everything from nothingness is the same word that has spoke truth over you and me. How incredible is that? His word, His calling, is irrevocable!

What Did He Just Say?

This past weekend I said something that was alarming. Even to me.

The introduction of my speech included the use of an "F" word from a childhood memory. Certainly there were gasps. People stunned with bewildered looks on stoic faces. While others sheepishly grinned. But not for reasons you would think.

In an effort to garner the attention of my audience I had stooped to a level of unprecedented depths. I said the word "fart" in church. And as a 10 year old boy in the home of my best friend I had carelessly used this "obscene gesture" to describe the unpleasant disdain of my friend's ill-timed shenanigans.

But this was not the alarming statement of my speech.

My sermon had focused on some obscene "F" words that prevent us from accomplishing and fulfilling our God-given calling in life. Words and phrases like "I'm fine" and fear and failure.

I expressed these sentiments as casual thoughts and attitudes that rob us from experiencing life to the full. To say "I'm fine" keeps casual conversations at bay from peering into the depths of our soul. It will not allow for honesty and vulnerability to shape our attitudes and actions. Fear frustrates and paralyzes us from accomplishing even greater endeavors than our resume already includes. Failure convinces us that we are the sum of our past mistakes instead of believing in second chances.

And then I shared what I believe can be life-altering thoughts to depose these gestures that keep us bound captive from experiencing God's best for our lives.

Forgiveness, faith, and freedom.

When we recognize that we've been forgiven we can choose to embrace and extend that forgiveness to create a dynamic shift in the way we see ourselves and others around us. When our faith is renewed it allows trust to take root, not in our strengths and abilities, but in the eternal presence and power of God to prevail. And the freedom we now have in Christ begins to release the chains and bondage of sin in our lives. To see ourselves as sons and daughters of God for that's who we are.

And here was the alarming illustration that is a constant battle and a constant frustration even in my own life.

Remember, the children of Israel? God sent Moses to be their deliverer from Egypt. They crossed the Red Sea and the Egyptian army was drowned. And God's people were free.

But do you remember their response to Moses in the desert? "You brought us out here to die! It would have been better for us to stay in Egypt!"

Are you serious? It would have been better to be in bondage and captivity and under the harsh rule of Pharaoh than to be free among God's people?

Lest we be too harsh we must remember that our hearts are just as sin-stricken as theirs. We oftentimes prefer the known to the unknown. The familiar rather than the unfamiliar. Even though Egpyt is more costly than the wilderness we still prefer bondage over freedom. Why? This battle that's raging in our minds blankets these "F" words: fine, fear, failure, forgiveness, faith, and freedom and we're constantly having to choose between Egypt and the wilderness.

Conforming to the patterns of this world will keep us confined to Egypt's landscape of captivity but being transformed by the renewing of our minds will lead us precisely toward God's will for our lives be it the wilderness or beyond.

Here's my dilemma: Egpyt or the wilderness? Conform or be transformed?  Fine or forgiven? Fear or faith? Failure or free? Slave or son? Whatever course God is establishing for my life, that's the path I want to take. The journey that places all my trust and confidence in Him. Because He's good.

Can I Really Trust You?

My son and I recently spent the day at Stone Mountain, the world's largest exposed piece of granite, riding the Skyride and hiking down the steep western border.

There are also smaller chunks of granite around the park that made for great places to run, jump, and play hide-and-seek.

As my son's courage continued to grow, I told him to jump off the rocks into my arms. "I'll catch you! Just jump! You can trust me!" And as he hesitated and considered all the possible outcomes he said, "Can I really trust you?"

I'm his dad. There's nothing more important to me than loving and protecting and providing for my son. And he's going to ask if he can trust me?

But how often are we guilty of asking the same question?

Can I really trust you?

Trust is a "firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something."

Because we've been let down by others' unreliability we find ourselves holding loosely in our minds any real belief that we can trust them. Our hopes have been stripped from the firm grasp of placing our lives, our emotions, our future in their hands.

Broken trust can leave us basking in the rays of relational conflict. Where we find ourselves drowning in the tears of misplaced trust. Strangling on the words of broken promises. Carrying the bags of betrayal to the next street corner of frustration and insecurity.

And then people want to come offer their opinions and advice. "You have every right to be upset. You don't need them. Their time's coming. Forget them. Take some time away."

Even the religious crowd wants to chime in. "Well, you know everything happens for a reason. God is working all things together for good. Vengeance is Mine thus saith the Lord."  

But when someone's trust has been violated they don't necessarily need our high and lofty opinions. They don't even really need our coffee cup verses from the Bible. What they need, what I needed, is someone to be present. Someone to be remain faithful. Someone they can trust.

My son jumped, not because I told him to jump, but because he quickly replayed in his mind all the times I had been there before. He asked if he could trust me but he already knew the answer. He knew I would catch him!

Remember, I said that my priority was to love and protect and provide for my son. I'm His father. And my Father, perhaps your Father, is doing the same for me. He's loving and protecting and providing for me. He's building my trust in Him.

Spurgeon once spoke these words, "God is too good to be unkind and He is too wise to be mistaken. And when we cannot trace His hand, we must trust His heart.”

I may not always see the way He sees but I'm learning to trust Him anyway. Why? Even though His ways and thoughts are higher, He's always been present and faithful. He's never forsaken me. He's never abandoned me. He's never let me down on one single promise. He's a good good Father!

Step, Swing, Squish

"Step, Swing, Squish!"

This is the phrase I repeatedly tell my son before hitting whiffle balls in our back yard, practice balls off the tee, or baseballs in a game.

No, I'm not an MLB scout or the hitting coach for a travel ball team. I'm just a dad who hopes his sticky statement for hitting a baseball works.

So, what's with this silly phrase, you ask? It's a reminder that hitting the ball is not about aimlessly swinging as hard as you can to hit a ball in motion; rather, it's a combination of timing and technique.

Obviously any expert or even an amateur who's spent 10 minutes watching YouTube could critique my hitting lesson with ease. But the point I'm trying to make for my seven year old son is it's more than meets the eye; it's more than just swinging the bat.

Hitting practice balls off a tee is monotonous. Boring. Not much fun. But there's something beneath the surface that's being developed with every proper swing. And the discipline to keep swinging and refusing to lose focus is creating an incredible potential that will not be realized until the game is on the line.

Littering the yard with a bucket full of whiffle balls is fun but it doesn't produce any kind of measurable results for winning a game. So we have to be creative. Alternate sides of the field where the ball must land. Run the bases on every third swing. Get your granddad out here in the yard and chase you around the bases. Make it fun.

But baseball is a just few hours a week for several months out of the year. Remember, my son's only seven. We're not professionals. He's not being paid to play. In fact, we're shelling out pennies from our pockets this season.

So, what do we do with all those other hours, days, and months? We step, swing, and squish.

My son is more than a ball player. He's a scientist who loves to investigate and experiment. He's an artist who loves to be creative and use his imagination. He's a friend who loves conversations and making memories with others. He's my son, watching and imitating what his daddy is doing!

Stepping means we aren't standing still. Faith is an important part of our lives and we want to see each day as an opportunity to grow by taking steps of faith. Swinging means we will take risks. We won't be paralyzed by fear. Squishing means that we will drown out negativity and evil, and choose to lean in to opportunities to encourage one another.

My goal as a parent is to teach my son the fundamental truths of living a life of faith. No, I'm not perfect. No, I don't have it all figured out. No, I won't get it right every single time. In fact, my batting average as a parent is no doubt less than stellar. But we will keep stepping, swinging, squishing!

We will keep leaning in to hear the voice of our Creator, who is marking out a path toward a life of faith and righteousness. We will keep taking risks we believe He's calling us to take knowing that He will not abandon or fail us. We will keep drowning out the world's schemes to distract us from being who we are in Him. Our confidence will come from the identity that He's placed on us as His children. We will win! In fact, we have already won!