Poor Annie

We should think through advice before we take it. No expert advice-giver is beyond reproach. If we’d only pause a moment to think, we might avoid calamity. Take, for instance, the advice we received concerning our firstborn, Annie-dog. We all knew it was going to be a huge shock to her when we brought Cannon home and she lost her only-child status.

For those who don’t know Annie, she’s our three year old Great Dane. She lives a charmed life, sleeping most of the time. When she’s not sleeping, she enjoys the most domesticated life a dog can have. She has spent about half the nights in her 21 dog-years sleeping on our bed (my side, drooling). She is the only dog in the extended family that gets to eat as much as she wants, anytime she wants, so when her cousins are visiting, they have to sit and watch as she eats in front of them. She has a high-pitched whine that is always tended to promptly. She won’t go outside to pee in the rain. She’s a beautiful dog, but I’m pretty sure she knows it. Anyway, Annie has it made.

Perhaps the best thing Annie has (or had) going for her is that for three years, she was the only child, the baby. Kris doted on her constantly- talking to her in a pouty, baby-voice, rubbing her itchy ears, taking her for walks, giving her treats. They had certain routines that were special. For instance, every time we went out, Kris would hold her pee so that she could go to the bathroom with Annie when we got home. Actually, I think Kris just prefers a familiar, clean toilet. But she did like to pee with Annie. Every time we came home from being out a few hours, Kris would let Annie out of her crate, then the two of them would go in the bathroom together. I think it was a special bonding time for them. I mean, I never enjoyed pee time with our dog. Or with Kris, for that matter.

Anyway, there has never been a stronger maternal bond between dog and master. After we drove the many hours to Oklahoma and gave the many dollars to the breeder to take Annie home, Kris held her in her arms in the passenger seat and said, “I just love her.”

So with a baby on the way, we sought advice on how to cushion the blow that would inevitably send Annie reeling. The experts suggested that we set aside a special blanket in the delivery room and use it to wipe off the baby at delivery. Then we could bring the blanket home with the baby’s scent and let Annie get used to the smell a couple days before bringing Cannon home. This sounded like a great idea, so we did it.

Why didn’t we think it through?!

Imagine you are an only child and your mother is the center of your world. One day in December, she jumps up for no reason and leaves in a rush, with no explanation. You try to remain calm, but you become concerned when she doesn’t return for days. Is she ok? She wouldn’t leave me- she must be detained! Could she be hurt? Then, your fears are confirmed when someone shows up at your house with a blanket covered in your mother’s blood. Would that make you excited to meet the owner of the blanket? No, of course it wouldn’t. It would freak you out, like in some mafia movie where the don sends you your bodyguard’s severed thumbs in a takeout box.

I’m sure Annie was relieved to see that her mother was alive when she came home from the hospital, but any feelings of relief were overshadowed by her fear of the stranger who sent her the bloody blanket warning message.

Eventually, fear turned to sadness as Annie realized that she was no longer the cat’s knees or even the bee’s pajamas. She has begun to realize for the first time in her life that she is a dog, not the Queen of Earth. I have tried to console her in my own way, scratching her ears and giving her bacon fat, but I fear Annie’s Paradise will never be restored. A telling moment occurred in her crate, when I came to visit her in the throes of depression. As I sat there petting her, Kris was in the next room changing the baby. As she cleaned his dirty butt, she began talking to him using the pouty, baby-voice she had been using exclusively with Annie for the past three years. I actually felt sorry for the dog as she listened to Kris speaking in this way to another creature. With every word, her head literally sank lower and lower. Sorry, Annie.

All I can do now is offer Annie my Love and Tenderness, hoping that in tandem with Time they will be enough to heal her broken heart (a la soft rocker Michael Bolton).

December 16 - Part Three

Cannon,

Here's the final act.

Annie took a few minutes to teach Naani, Mom and me the basics of pushing out a baby. I held one leg, Naani held the other, and Annie counted to ten while Kris pushed. The same instructions might have been given for a not so popular Olympic sport, Team Pooping. Everyone had a job and we all did it well. I remember having two thoughts: First, “Where is the doctor?” Second, “Why do I have such an up close view of the action?” As for my intimate vantage point, I was expecting to be standing by your mom’s head when you emerged, but this position had me right in the thick of the action. I just looked your mom in the eye and gave her my most encouraging words (“You have a real gift for child-bearing! You have a huge talent!”) and tried not to look to closely at what was going on south of the border. It wasn’t long before Annie could see your little head poking through. She said, “I see the head- he’s bald!” Fortunately, your ears were not yet exposed. Otherwise you might have heard and grown up with a complex.

After about thirty minutes of timed pushing at Annie’s behest, the doctor came in for the final surge. He set up shop at your mom’s feet and I moved to my expected position by her head. Poor mom was pretty spent at this point, but she as hanging tough. Remember, at this point she hadn’t eaten anything at all in 12 hours, most of which had been full of stress and exertion. Fortunately, that last meal had been dad’s hearty beans and rice. She proved to be a warrior with a particular talent for birthing humans.

By the time the doctor was ready at 9:10, you were literally one push away. Sensing that the moment was upon us, I grabbed the camera with my left hand while my right hand held mom’s. I pushed record just in time to capture the footage of the doctor catching you and spinning you around, untangling the umbilical cord and removing the fluid from your nose and mouth. The footage is miraculous, as you have seen, and the soundtrack is a mixture of your first screams and me weep-laughing with the greatest joy I have or will ever experience again. Although I can never again in life experience such joy in quantity, I can experience it in kind by simply holding you and looking at your face.

Amidst the emotion of your birth, I had two confusing moments. At first sight, I would have sworn you were black. Though I would never question your mother’s faithfulness, my eyes perceived a son that did not match my race. I later learned that you were just a little low on oxygen at the time, while you were figuring out how to use your lungs without mooching oxygen from your mom’s bloodstream.

My second misconception came only seconds later, when a nurse was wiping fluid off of your hind parts on the other side of the room. I could have sworn that I saw a tail right above your baby butt. Though concerned, I thought it best to carry a light tone in my voice when I said, “He has a little tail, doesn’t he?” The nurse promptly responded, “Yes, he has a tail.” Her tone was not as light as mine, which to me confirmed that my eyes had not deceived me. Due to the health checks and blood draws that were necessary in subsequent hours, it was a long while before I was allowed to flip you over and examine your rump. It turns out you never had a tail at all. Evidently the nurse who confirmed the appendage thought I was talking about your tally whacker (penis).

Speaking of your binkie, I tried to save your foreskin. Sadly, the pediatrician would not hear my suggestion to preserve it in formaldehyde for posterity.

You were born at 9:10 and by 3:00pm you were in the recovery room with us where we spent the next couple days getting used to life together. You were tested multiple times over that period and you passed every exam with very high marks. You scored a 9.9 out of 10 on the APGAR, which tests your tactical agility and ability to make quick decisions under duress. We’ll be sure to put that on your college applications. You also passed your hearing exam and impressed us all when you slept through your circumcision.

We received further evidence of your toughness when you got your first heel prick. The technician said you were the best baby he had drawn blood from all day. You didn’t cry at all. In fact, I think I heard you giggle. Already you were distancing yourself from your peers. If that didn’t earn you an early membership to the man club, the pediatrician’s revelation did- while feeling your bones, she discovered your collarbone had been broken at delivery. After briefly entertaining the assassination of your delivery doctor, we gawked at your tolerance for pain.

The family gathered around and joined hands to thank the Lord for granting you safe passage into the world. From beginning to end, everything went as smoothly as it could possibly go. Lots of things can go wrong when delivering a child, but the Lord was a shield from these complications. At the end of a long couple of days, we had a beautiful, healthy boy and every reason to celebrate and glorify the Lord, who gave us the best early Christmas gift ever.

December 16 - Part Two

We parked in clergy parking- I tried to park at the ER entrance, but your mom insisted on walking. So we walked from the parking garage to the maternity ward. Well, I walked. Your mom sort of swayed side to side with gradual forward progress. It wasn’t from the pain- at this point she felt none. It was because she was straddling a towel, laughing and repeating phrases like, “Water is pouring out of me,” “It won’t stop,” “I feel like I’m peeing myself.” Fortunately, a kind night shift janitor followed us with a mop.

We finally reached elevator D and went straight to triage, as we were told to do on the hospital tour. A nurse met us at the door and asked what we needed. What could a waddling pregnant woman riding a wet towel possibly need? Kris just said, “I think my water broke.”

The nurse’s name was My. She became a good friend of ours and even came by our room a couple days later to meet you before we left the hospital. She was very reassuring and gave us the good news that you were healthy, happy and ready to come out. By 10:30, your mom was dressed in a hospital gown and having her contractions timed. By 11:00, we were wheeling her into our labor and delivery suite. Your Naani and Podiddy were there waiting for us.

We said goodbye to My and hello to Debra, our new nurse. Her main task was starting your mom on a magic potion that would make her contractions come faster and harder. Though I have never experienced them myself, son, I believe these contractions are like doing crunches while nursing a stubborn bowel movement. These contractions are evidently pretty uncomfortable. Nurse Debra quickly fell in your mother’s esteem, since every fifteen minutes she revisited our room and increased the dose of magic contraction pain potion. By 1:00am, we were getting your mom popsicles and crushed ice and encouraging her through contractions.

Now, there are lots of women in the world, many of whom have successfully delivered children, but your mother surpasses them all. Up and down the halls, women moaned and groaned and screamed obscenities. Not your mom. Even though the mother to be in the next room was screaming in what sounded like Japanese, your mother simply closed her eyes and breathed through the pain. She was really something.

At 2:30, nurse Debra returned with good news. It was time to call the anesthesiologist to administer the epidural.

I had a lot of misconceptions about the epidural. The epidural is not a shot in the back. It is the insertion of a wire down the spine through a pipe that is burrowed between two vertebra. Nurse Debra said most of the dads who faint in the delivery room faint during the administration of the epidural.

Dr. Millar appeared in the doorway around 2:40 with a cart heavy laden with medieval torture devices. Our confidence was shaken when he began speaking in a very groggy voice. I thanked him for waking up from his nap to help us. He parked his cart next to the bed and set up his sterile working zone. My confidence in Dr. Millar was climbing until he asked the nurse on three separate occasions what time he had come in the room for the epidural. He was too tired to remember the time, but was alert enough to shove a pipe in my wife’s spine? After he asked a third time, I told him I would be happy to write it down.

When I saw the foot-long needle approaching your mom’s back, I decided it was not the time to prove my manhood, so I turned away. Your mom, though, ever the soldier, never flinched. Soon, the good stuff was coursing through her lower body and her legs went numb and heavy. Dr. Millar kindly reminded her not to tense up at the cool sensation running down her legs, because there was still a needle in her spine. “Great,” I thought, “hiccup and you’re paralyzed from the waist down.” But no one was paralyzed. Everything went perfectly.

Contractions continued pain free for the next several hours and a shift change. At 8:00, our new nurse, Annie, introduced herself. Annie came just in time to see your birth. She said we were on the cusp of pushing time. More on that later.

December 16 - Part One

Cannon,

Welcome to the world, son.

Here, we breathe air and eat with our mouths, not tubes attached to our navels. I guess you already figured that out. Would you like to know the story of your birth? It was a great day of days. We laughed, we cried, we saw you buck-naked.

The story of December 16 starts with December 15. Actually, it started nine months before that, but we can save that talk for later. By December first, your mom was ready to cut you out of her belly with a wooden spoon. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy being pregnant with you, it’s just that in the final days of pregnancy it’s hard to get comfortable. She wasn’t sleeping well, her hands and feet were swollen and she felt as though her abdomen might split open with a poorly timed sneeze or flatulence.

So your mom searched the internet, hoping to find a way to coax you out of the womb and into the world as soon as possible. She had been eating spicy food, driving over speed bumps and giving me special hugs, but none of the conventional methods were working. It was like you were clinging to her bottom ribs with your monkey toes. Finally, she came across some advice from a few of her college friends. Three of them told her that they had delivered their babies the day after eating eggplant.

Kris arranged for us to have eggplant parmesan the very next day, December 15. I don’t know if she expected a mysterious tingling or if she thought you would immediately start burrowing south, but nothing actually happened right away. In fact, we left the restaurant and went straight to our appointment at the doctor’s office, where the she checked to see how soon you would be coming. Only an hour after the eggplant, Dr. Steidl said you were still a couple weeks from joining us. Your mom was disappointed.

That night, we had a couple of your aunts and uncles over for a Christmas party. I made my famous red beans and rice and your mom baked a pumpkin cheesecake. Kris added extra Tobasco to drive you out of her belly.

After dinner we started watching It’s A Wonderful Life. George Bailey was just about to give up his honeymoon money to save the Building and Loan when Kris suddenly said, “Oh,” then hurdled the end of the couch and ran high knees down the hall. The impact of this feat was magnified by the fact that it had been weeks since she attempted anything more than a tender, waddling gait.

Through the closed bathroom door, Auntie Em and I confirmed that her water had indeed broken, which sent us into a euphoric chaos. Emily retrieved the Jacksons, who had not yet left the driveway. Aunt Kristen is a nurse, so she was helpful to your mom. Emily and I packed a bag for the hospital while James and Jared cleaned up the kitchen and powered down the movie, still in progress. In a matter of minutes, we were en route to the hospital. It was about 10:00pm.

My first disappointment was the lack of traffic. I had imagined myself turning on the hazard lights and zooming through traffic, glancing both ways as I flew through red lights. I was hoping to be pulled over by a cop so that I could explain the urgent situation and get a police escort to the ER. But at 10:00 on a Thursday night, there were only a few cars on the road. The hazards were flashing, but not from necessity. We were the only ones on the road. The chaotic scene I had imagined and emotionally prepped for was replaced by something much more serene. Your mom was completely calm. Though she was slowly leaking birthing fluid on a towel, she was not having painful contractions. So we drove in relative silence, enjoying the surreal moment. As we neared Arlington Memorial Hospital, I cautiously ran a red light just because. Your mom just laughed.

Ok, I'll tell you the rest later.

Being With Teens

Two posts ago, we established the problem we have in relating to teens. They make us anxious and we make them anxious. With all of our good intentions, we want to work on them like projects. In their humanness, they resist this form of manipulation. We need to learn how to simply be with our teens in a healthy way. After establishing the problem, the next post addressed part of the solution, learning to be present with God as training for being present with teens. I hope you took some time to enter God's presence and simply be with him. If not, please go back to the previous post and give it a shot.

In part three of three, we'll apply what we learned about being present with God to our relationships with young people.

In John 6, Jesus tells his disciples that no one can come to him unless the Father calls him. No one comes to Jesus unless God calls them. As a minister and a missionary, no other passage provides so much relief. It is not my eloquence or hipness or charisma that brings people to Jesus, but God's call. What a relief that this is out of my hands! When we relate to our teens, we sometimes feel a deep urge from within to push them where we want them to go. With the best of intentions, we point them in the right direction, then gently push. Then the push becomes a shove, then a kick. Then we try dragging them in the right direction. Naturally, they resist. We would probably do the same thing. We probably did the same thing when our parents tried the same stunts. When we're tempted to do this with our teens, we can remember the words of Jesus here, when he reminds us that God is the one who will call our teens and bring them to Jesus. Can we have the faith to let God be God? Can we surrender the notion that we need to somehow make our teens love God?

If we were spending time with teens without trying to constantly "mold" or "influence" or "direct" or "fix" them, constantly looking for those teachable moments, what would our time together look like? Do we think teens are unaware of ulterior motives to shape them? They know what we're up to, and they don't like it! If we were to surrender these ulterior motives, perhaps we would see walls start to come down. Perhaps we would see relationships deepen. Perhaps teens would begin to learn from our actions what we could never teach them with our words.

When they choose to speak, let's listen to our teens. Look for the subjects that they get excited about, and get excited about it with them. Delight in their energy and passion. Point out the good things they do, not to manipulate them into more good behavior, but simply to praise them for their goodness. Try to notice where teens come alive and follow that thread. If our teens are accustomed to hearing us sell our agenda to them all the time, it will take time for them to notice that something has changed. However, if we continue to practice presence, we will begin to see a positive change.

God's Presence

Last post, I wrote about being present with our teens. It's not easy, but it can be more beneficial and less stressful than the other alternative, in which all our time with our teens is spent trying to manage them in some way. This post will explore the idea of making ourselves present to God. Learning to dwell in his presence will prepare us to be present to others, including our teens.

How do you approach God in prayer? Do you come to him with a list of thanks and requests? Do you pray in the shower? In the car? In bed at night? Maybe you get up in the morning and pray, or pray throughout the day. I find that sometimes praying just wears me out. I once determined to pray for a long period of time each day. I wrote out a long list of names and situations that I wanted to bring before God. I got myself in a prayerful mindset and sat in a lonely place and prayed through my list. After a few days, this process became exhausting! Also, to my shame, the prayers quickly grew cold and business-like.

More recently, I've tried to approach prayer less as "talking to God" and more as "time with God." This has been so much more refreshing! I still pray through lists sometimes, but most often I will just sit and be with God. Maybe I can tell him what is on my mind and ask him to intercede in the lives of others, or maybe I can just sit in silence, trusting that it is enough to simply place myself in his midst.

I apologize for all the first person singular pronouns. Let me share what a friend recently told me. He said sometimes when he is driving in the car, he will clear off the passenger seat so that Jesus has a place to sit and ride with him. They don't talk constantly- maybe the radio is even on. Even when he's not "praying" he is consciously spending time in his "presence."

I urge you to take time to consciously enter God's presence. Don't worry about what you need to pray about. Don't scold yourself if your mind wanders. Just give that to God. Don't worry about waxing eloquent or running down a list of needs or thanks. Don't come to him with an agenda, just come to him. Don't believe God will meet you in silence? Remember his last words spoken in Matthew: "I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Can you find satisfaction in this non-judgemental, no-pressure place?

The Gift of Presence

Teenagers make adults anxious.

When we look at them, we see that they are fidgety. They are sweaty. They don't sit still and they fiddle with things. They sometimes seem to have little sense of what is going on outside of their immediate vicinity.

Adults make teenagers anxious.

When they look at us, they see that we have no friends, no passions, and we are always stressed out. We sometimes are so concerned with monitoring everything else that we seem to have little sense of what is going on in our immediate vicinity.

Teens are about energy and movement. They have emotions to express that are very important to them. They want to live, and sometimes adults seem to be doing anything but living. Adults are often about maintaining the status quo. We want children to "Liten!" "Behave!" "Be still!" and "Stop talking!" We want them to soothe our fears that they will turn out rotten. We want to know that they will not get themselves in trouble. We want assurance that they will not embarrass us.

The sum of all of these anxieties is that we are prevented from being present with teens. Most teens experience adults as either absent or lecturing. What if we were able to completely set aside our agenda and simply be with young people? How would we treat teens if we weren't trying to convince them of something or impart some lesson or ingrain in them some morsel of our wisdom? The truth is, teens learn from adults' example far more than their words anyway! What would it be like if we just made ourselves available to sit and listen?

Consider this quote from a youth volunteer:

"When I first started working with youth, I felt I had to ask them a lot of questions, make jokes and make them feel good. Now I plop down next to them and sigh and ask, "How are you?" Whether theri response is just a word or a five minute dialogue, I can sit with them knowing my full attention to them in that five seconds or five minutes is enough."

Our teens are not fully mature. They need adults to help them through the maturation process. However, we need to deprogram ourselves from thinking of them as projects that need managing rather than people who need our company and sometimes, our undivided attention.

Next week, I'll share some thoughts on being present with God. Before we can truly be present with anyone else, it is important to open ourselves up to him.

Creating A Better Culture, Part 2

This will be my last post (at least for now) on the topic of extended adolescence. Thanks to all who have read and commented. I hope you found this research helpful. If you have any questions or want some sites to check out, let me know. Here are tips two and three for creating a culture in our homes and youth groups that will encourage our teens to grow into fruitful adults in the kingdom of God.

2. Our teens are isolated from the adult world. They spend the vast majority of their time with people their age- non-adults living in adolescence. They go to school, where adults are outnumbered (and whose influence is often subdued). They hang out with friends, who are all their age. They may go to church, but even there they interact primarily with teens their age, or maybe a youth minister or teacher. Often our goal for teens' interaction is that they hang out with "good kids" as opposed to teens who might be a bad influence on them. This is great, but it is not enough for teens to only hang around other teens, no matter how good an influence those other teens may be. Teens need to spend time with adults.

Teens should spend time with adults because they need to see what adulthood looks like. They need to see what it is like to have responsibility. They need to see what life should look like for them in the future. If they never see adults operating as adults, how can they come to know what is involved in growing out of adolescence?

I have noticed that our church's small groups have missed an opportunity to get our teens around adults. Most of our teens have gravitated to one or two small groups that have a high concentration of teenagers, which is understandable, because teens enjoy being together. However, I think small groups would be a great place for our teens to interact with adults. When I have brought up the possibility of making our teens go with their parents to small groups instead of congregating at a single "teen" small group, I have met resistance. The common argument is "but teens think adults are boring." Although I can't argue with that (I think adults are boring sometimes, too), I don't think it is a valid reason to further quarantine teens, since they are already estranged enough from adult culture. What if our teens not only attended a small group, but also participated? I think it would be highly formative and it would mature them a lot, even if they were bored sometimes.

3. Instead of raising a "child," raise and adult. The experts say that our vocabulary matters. By using certain words in lieu of others, our mindset begins to change. For example, instead of referring to young people as "kids," try calling them "teens" or "young adults." It may start to change your paradigm. Consider this one: often parents see their job as "raising good children." But is that really what parents want? No. Parents want to raise good adults! Ten years from now, what will it matter that your 24 year old was a "good child?" What you want ten years from now is a child who grew into a good adult. So you might change your vocabulary from "raising children" to "raising adults." Or, you might start thinking of your teenager as an "apprentice adult," since that is really what you would like her to be.

Thanks for reading. Next week, I'm planning to start a series on being present with our teens. I'll offer a quote as a preview: "Teens are in more need of your presence than your knowledge."

Creating A Better Culture

This post picks up where I left off last week, concluding that extended adolescence is not a biological phenomenon, but a cultural behavior we have taught our young people. The bad news is that the culture to which we have all contributed is to blame for our youth's perpetual immaturity. The good news is that since it is cultural learned behavior, we can make intentional choices that will alter the culture of our homes and churches so that our young people can grow into fruitful adults in the kingdom of God. In this post, I will discuss the first of a few deliberate ways ways we can alter our home and church culture for the better.

1. Our culture has taught us that the best parent is the one whose child gets in the least amount of trouble and is the best behaved. If we think about this, we can see that it is not true at all, but when the rubber meets the road, we typically try to control children because that is the best way to "parent" them. In the context of extended adolescence and its causes, this is clearly problematic. The more we control, the less meaningful responsibility young people have, which teaches them to be adolescent, not adult.

One writer gives the illustration of a puppy in a yard and a puppy in a park. If a dog owner lets her puppy run free in a park, the dog wil run and run and possibly never come back again. It's just more freedom than is healthy for a puppy. However, a leash is too resrictive. A puppy on a leash will never damage anything and he will never be run down by a truck. However, he will never be ready for life in the park. A better solution, the writer suggests, is to put the puppy in the fenced-in yard. Sure, he will dig up some roses and he might chew up the hose, but he probably won't do any major damage to himself or anything else. In the meantime, the puppy grows in a realtively safe environment and is growing capable of handling the freedom of the park.

Research has proven that teenagers need and want boundaries. It is counter-intuitive to imagine teenagers wanting boundaries, but studies show that they are happier and more successful socially and academically when they have clear boundaries set before them. These boundaries, however, need to be loose enough that there is freedom for them to make bad choices that result in natural consequences. Another lie we have been made to believe is that only a bad parent allows their children to suffer consequences. When our teens make mistakes with serious consequences, we often see parents taking the brunt of the blow. Is this preparing them to be adults? Often as an adult we make decisions that result in negative consequences. Sometimes the consequences are disprportionate to the crime, but alas, the price must always be paid in full. To deprive teens of such an experience is to take away ameaningful learning opportunity that can be significantly formative.

The main idea is that our culture, at home and in our youth groups, should be one in which teens are protected from themselves, but where they are free to make their own decisions for better or worse. When they are for the worse, we have to fight our inclination to save them, since, in doing so, we will deprive them in the long run.

Next we will unpack two more tips for establishing a healthy culture for teens.

Extended Adolescence

I’ve done some research lately on Extended Adolescence and I’d like to share some of the things people are saying about the culture in which our teenagers are growing up. Much of this is a summary of work done by Mark Yaconelli and Mark Oestreicher.

All you have to do is take a retrospective glance and you’ll see that Americans are “kids” longer now that they were 50, 20 or even 10 years ago. The attitudes and actions we associate with adolescence (rebellion, moodiness, lack of other-awareness) can be seen not just in teenagers, but well into the twenties and even thirties in some cases. And the upper range of adolescence is growing all the time. In the 1970s, research concluded that adolescence began at 12 and ended at 18. This is why 18 is the age of “adulthood” at which Americans can vote, join the military and marry without parental consent. Now, forty years later, adolescence begins (on average) at age 10 and ends (on average) at age 30. Some researchers suggest that eventually there will be no upper limit to the age of adolescence. Instead it will be a “lifestyle choice” that some make to never grow into full adulthood.

What researchers are learning is that adolescence is not a physiological phenomenon (related to puberty), but a cultural phenomenon. In other words, young people act this way because that is how we are telling them they should act. Want evidence? Look to the past. Your grandparents were adults who handled major responsibility at the same age that your children have to be coaxed out of bed every morning to go to school. We didn’t change that much biologically in three generations. It’s cultural. Also, a look at world cultures will reveal that extended adolescence only occurs in first world cultures that are influenced by American media. What this means is our young people are not “late bloomers,” they are just being told that they are children when in truth they are not.

So why has this happened? Others have made many suggestions that can be boiled down to three:

1. We have systematically isolated youth from the adult world.
Teenagers have very little regular interaction with adults, other than those who are paid to be with them in their culture. Classrooms are full of teens and teen culture. Youth groups are often seen as a separate church for young people.

2. We removed responsibility and expectation.
Adulthood is characterized by responsibility and expectation. In the name of protecting our teens, we often soften the consequences of their actions and provide them with lowered expectations. This teaches them that they are children, and they act accordingly.

3. We removed on-ramps to adulthood and inter-generational relationships.
The presence of adult relationships provides an opportunity for teens to see adulthood firsthand and learn by example how to accept meaningful responsibility and consequences.

This post is bunches of gloom, but there is good news- since extended adolescence is NOT biological, but cultural, we can change it. We can choose the culture in which our families will live. We can choose the culture we want for our youth group. In subsequent posts, I’ll discuss ways we can change our culture and help our teens grow into the fruitful adults God wants them to be.

If You are in the CoC, Your Brain is About to Explode

I just finished a paper about Alexander Campbell and Barton W. Stone. You know those guys. The ones who led the Restoration Movement. You know, our claim to fame in the church of Christ. You know.

But what you didn't know MAY SHOCK YOU!

Though they teamed up to lead the same movement, AC and BWS were as different as Cher and Willie Nelson. Their personalities were different, their worldviews were different and their lifestyles were different. A lot of learned folk say this is why there was an eventual split in the Movement in 1906 that resulted in two groups being formed: the Christian Church and the Church of Christ. My paper was about one of the many differences between these two ancient manfolks: Their radically different views of the millennium.

Have you thought about what you believe about the "millennium" talked about in Revelation? Maybe you've read those Left Behind books. Maybe you've never heard of this millenni-thing. What do you think about life after death? Straight to heaven or hell? I don't know. But I know what AC and BWS thought.

Campbell was of the opinion that before Jesus returned to earth, there would be a 1,000 year period characterized by peace, justice, good weather, easy farming and general warm and fuzziness in which everyone in the world would be a Christian. He wrote that this Millennium would start because of human efforts. He thought his Restoration Movement could be the spark that started the 1,000 year period. He thought that all of the advances in technology made in his lifetime were indicative that human progress was reaching the pinnacle of greatness that would usher in the Millennium. That's why he came out with a journal called Millennial Harbinger, which means, "Bringer of the Millennium."

Stone, however, was convinced that Jesus could come at any time, and that only the return of Jesus would start the 1,000 years of peace and plenty. He carried a worldview that was a little more pessimistic toward humanity than Campbell's. Stone looked around and saw slavery, poverty, arguing among Christians and other social ills that led him to believe that the world was crumbling and had been dying since it was born. To Stone, humanity would not be the bringer of the millennium, but God alone.

Each of these guys lived a totally different lifestyle that probably contributed to the way they interpreted Revelation. Of course AC would be optimistic about the world- he was rich (when he died, his estate was worth the equivalent of $20 million today) and popular and important. Barty had every reason to be Eyore, since he was poor, unknown and had given his everything to the promotion of the Movement and the end of Slavery, only to see nothing come of it.

As the story goes, everyone eventually sided with Campbell's view and persecuted people who followed Stone's view. Then, when the Civil War came and the country started going to poo, they left AC's theory behind as well. As a result, today the Christian Churches and the Churches of Christ are not POSTmillennial (like Campbell) or PREmillennial (like Stonesie), but Amillennial (meaning, the wast majority of churches in these fellowships don't believe in a literal millennium). Most people in these fellowships see the second coming, judgment, the destruction of earth and assignment in heaven or hell all happening at one single millisecond (not a biblical conclusion).

To conclude, neither Stone nor Campbell thought that one's view of the millennium should be a test of fellowship. They didn't think this was such an important issue that it is worth arguing over and neither should you. However, you should take the time, as a Christian, to develop your own eschatology, that is, your view of last things, or what happens at the end of time. If you roll Romans and Thessalonians and Revelation and Peter Jesus together, you may be surprised about what they are all saying about the end.

If you have more interest in the millennial views of Stone and Campbell (you shouldn't), and would like to learn more (why?!) you can read some of the work done by Richard Hughes (don't!). Or if you want to read my 25 page paper (you don't) just leave me your email address (you are insane) and I'll send you a copy.

Pictured above: Barton W. Stone with spectacles hidden in his windblown hair, Alexander Campbell, probably the scariest father in-law ever, and the cover to the Backstreet Boys 1999 chart-topping album, Millennium which featured the #1 hit, "Larger Than Life," which is ironic because AC's eyebrows were larger than life.

That's the Power of The Home Depot

You might not have known that I work part-time at The Home Depot. I started working there at the end of August. I've never worked in retail before, and I'm enjoying it. I realized last week that it had been almost two months since my last post, so I promised myself a week ago that I would blog about whatever might happen the following week. I now fulfill that promise.

I work in flooring. Mostly, I talk to people all day about how to lay tile, how much it will cost them to carpet their house, what they should use to clean their laminate and why they should never put solid wood down in the kitchen. This past week, I did all of those things, but the noteworthy experiences happened outside department 23.

On Monday, a customer needed help finding picture hangers, so I took her to hardware and pointed them out. Then, as I made my way back to the flooring department, another customer reached up and touched my elbow. I stopped and she whispered in my ear, "You might want to watch that guy over there. He's acting drunk and reeks of beer." I thanked her and walked over to the man at the end of the aisle. I asked if he needed any help finding anything and he responded with a "No, thanks," that smelled like a warm draft from a pit of vipers writhing in crude oil.

I went around the corner and told Jack, the department head of hardware. Jack is the human version of a lawn gnome. Note that I did not say he looks like the human version of a lawn gnome. I said he is the human version of a lawn gnome. Four foot something with a huge gray beard, always wearing a Home Depot hat. Glasses. Gnome. Anyway, I told him about the guy and when he peeked around the corner at him, he saw the guy shoving drill bits down his pants.

Yes, we got thiefed. Since we'd be fired if we tried to stop the guy, all we could do is watch him and wait for a manager to come. No one came in time. He just walked out with drawers full of merch and we had to just watch him go. Thiefed.

The next big event happened on Tuesday. I went over to the kitchen and bath area because I heard someone raising their voice. It turned out to be a customer arguing with Kathy in kitchens about what product to use on a piece of granite. He somehow came into possession of a two inch thick slab of granite that he'd been using as a turntable. He was not satisfied, however with the inconsistency between the polished look of the top of the granite and the unpolished cut around the edges of the slab. Kathy told the man he should buy a granite polish to make the sides look right. He as convinced he needed to "make the sides wet," as evidenced by his repeated action of licking the side of one of our sample pieces of granite.

Kathy was getting nowhere, so I brought the man over to the flooring department and tried to explain to him that he needed to buy the polish. In the middle of my spiel, he saw a $20 bottle of sealer and became fixated on it, convinced it was he product he needed. And he kept licking the sample granite.

Finally, he said he knew he was right and he was going to buy the $20 sealer. "Ok," I said. Then he started to open it. I told him if he opened it, he would have o buy it, because we couldn't sell an opened hazardous material. He nodded really hard and said he just wanted to show me that he was right. You know what happened. He opened it. He was wrong. Then he put it back on the shelf and left. And he took the granite sample. Thiefed.

Finally, on Wednesday I was cornered by a lady on a Hover-Round who had just bought two cans of paint for her daughter's house. She started talking and just wouldn't stop. I learned she was 85 years old with a boyfriend who was a nice guy, but not as fun as the man she dated thirty years ago who took her fishing in the ocean, but that guy turned out to be a little scary, which reminded her of her traumatic childhood in which she was thrown in the cellar by her om's boyfriend and left for hours and hours and hours and hours all by herself for hours and hours and hours and now this post is starting to resemble our thirty minute conversation so I'll stop here.

My week at The Home Depot.

Discipleship

In an earlier post about balancing Knowledge and Obedience, I stated that following Jesus should be about obedience and not about knowledge. I also said the phrase "Obedience Based Discipleship" is a misnomer that can be misleading. This post will clarify that statement. It might all go down smoother if you re-read the post, called "Balance" before you read this post.

Those whose eyes have been opened to the power of radical obedience to God's word have a generally similar experience. They are immediately awed at the simplicity of putting God's word into immediate, measurable action. They quickly see improvement in their walk with God as they devote themselves to studying with a mind to obey. They also have an eagerness to share this discovery with others. Then comes a feeling of frustration because many of the people they tell either don't get it or pick it apart until they find enough faults to dismiss it.

For example, I recently spoke in chapel at Harding Grad. I presented the ideas in the "Balance" blog and an accompanying application of Matthew 7. Afterward, a faculty member politely noted that what I said sounded a tad legalistic. I was not surprised. I had heard it before. My internal response was, "What I said was no more legalistic than what Jesus said."

When we are communicating to other nonbelievers about obedience, they hear (rightly) that Christianity holds a high standard. When they make an acquaintance of Jesus in the context of his demands of obedience, they understand him (correctly) as someone who gives much and expects much. However, when we are communicating with believers about obedience, a red flag is lifted at the sheer mention of the o-word. Phrases flash through their minds like, "saved by grace through faith." To base discipleship on obedience, in their minds, is to strive to save oneself by works.

To their credit, there are some pitfalls to the obedience based mindset. For all its strength, it can be a slippery slope to some unbiblical attitudes.

1. Pride. I have seen this in others and been guilty of it myself. When we have this life-changing epiphany and realize that measurable obedience should replace a premium on knowledge, there can be a tendency to look down upon the "uninitiated." I'm not talking about lost people, but people beside us in the pews and in our Bible classes. We can forget that we were once where they are. We shake our heads sometimes because they have not arrived. We forget that although we may be a little further down the road, we also have not yet arrived.

2. Legalism. When the pendulum swings away from knowledge and toward obedience, the momentum can carry it too far. By legalism, I am referring to earning salvation and favor from God as well as making a false idol out of literal obedience. We have to remember that God loves the obedient and the disobedient. We are obedient not because we want to earn his love, but because we want to show our love and because he commanded it.

3. Weakening Scriptural Mastery. That sounds ridiculous, but I couldn't think of a better way of wording it. Often there are trade-offs when we do something a certain way. Before I began studying the Bible with a mind to obey, I studied for facts, facts, and more facts. My Bible time was about quantity, not quality. I considered volume a measure of success (hence the "read the Bible in a year" programs). After I changed my study approach, however, my sights narrowed significantly. Determined to obey everything I learned, it became more and more critical to read in small chunks. If I read five chapters, for example, I could never keep up with my obedience to all of the imperatives. As a result, I focused more on small sections of Scripture. Over time, this had a negative affect on my familiarity with the whole of the Bible. The trade-off of quality over quantity has its drawbacks.

The above warnings do not discredit Obedience Based Discipleship. Until I am introduced to a more biblical way to live, I will not change. As I disciple nonbelievers, I will continue to emphasize, as Jesus did, that obedience is not an option. We do the lost no favors when we make Christianity look easier than it really is. The above is simply a caution for anyone, including myself, who would attempt to place a premium on obedience.

On to the misnomer. I mentioned that the word "obedience" can be a turn-off to some believers because to them it reeks of legalism. Upon realizing this, I toyed with a few other names for it. "Faith Based Discipleship." "Discipleship of Faithfulness." "Radical Discipleship." In the end, though, they all sounded a little redundant. So, from now on, when I share with my fellow believers this way of life I am so passionate about, I will call it what it should have been called all along...

Discipleship.

For Auntie Denise

I love my iPhone, but sometimes it it makes me call people on accident. The other day, I was trying to call my father in-law to tell him I was going to the grocery store and offer to pick up some peanuts for him. The man likes peanuts. And Skinny Cow Low Fat Ice Cream Snacks. Anyway, I went to my "Recent Calls" screen and accidentally touched my aunt's name instead of Mark's. It was no problem, because I caught it in time and I just hung up really fast. Then I called Mark, who did not want peanuts, but suggested I buy some lunch meats.

My wife has always wondered if I act out for other people or if I am a goofus all the time, even when I'm by myself. When she asked me about it, I could only guess at the answer. My initial thought was that I am fairly consistent in my behavior, but I could think of no specific instances in which I was goofin solo. So, the question remained an enigma... until the aforementioned day, after I left the grocery with various meats but no peanuts.

I was alone in the car, driving south on Rufe Snow, and "Jesus Take the Wheel" was on the radio. I don't know why or how it started, but by the time I got to my turn on Chapman, I was singing the chorus as loud as I could, purposefully hitting all the wrong notes. I was really getting into it and thinking about how funny this would be if anyone could hear it when I heard a noise coming from my left hand. Yes, I had accidentally called my aunt. Yes, she had answered this time. Yes, the phone was on speaker.

Yes, I pretended it happened on purpose.

I've recorded the transcript of our conversation below.


-----


Auntie: Ha ha ha ha. Ha. Ha ha. (this is what I heard while singing the line
"give me one more chance")

Auntie: What are you doing?!

Michael: Singing "Jesus, Take the Wheel."

Auntie: I can hear that, but you don't sound much like Terry Bradshaw.

Michael: You're right, but I think it's Carrie Underwood.

Auntie: Oh! Ha ha! You're right! Terry Bradshaw is the girl from Sex in the City.


-----



It was great talking to my aunt. I think we are a lot alike. Her name is Cindy, but for some reason, I have always called her Auntie Denise. Kris says I get my sense of humor from her. If you or anyone you know is interested in a beautiful, fully restored home in Panama City, Florida, she'll sell you one.

Balance

The mark of a disciple is not knowledge, but obedience.

When I was eight-ish, my mom had me staying with a babysitter when she worked nights. The lady who watched me was Mrs. Ann Brady of Columbia, TN. We had a lot of good times together. Popcorn is my favorite food. I'm positive this is because she cooked it on the stove every night. We would eat it while we watched Murder She Wrote. Good times. Mrs. Brady was also a devoted Christian, and she did what she could to influence me. I remember she once had me memorize the books of the Bible. Old Testament and New. While writing them out for the hundredth time, I asked why I needed to know this information. She said, "One day, when you get to heaven, they might ask you the books of the Bible before they let you in."

I tell people about this and they laugh. But really, isn't it common for Christians to equate Biblical knowledge with righteous living? In a Bible class on any given Sunday, if the group was tasked with choosing a spiritual leader, would not most groups choose as their leader the individual with the most Biblical knowledge? I say this is not as it should be.

Most of us who grew up in American church culture know that a high premium is placed on knowledge. This was reinforced when we got a gold star for memorizing verses. Or when we got a plaque at Bible Bowl or a medal at Lads to Leaders. Or when a child was counseled by a parent or minister that she should not be baptized because "she doesn't know enough yet." Need more examples?

The troubling thing is that we have been conditioned to learn facts without immediately obeying them. For years, we have studied daily devotions, completed Read-the-Bible-in-a-Year programs, and taken copious notes in sermons and Bible classes. All the while, downloading facts for the sake of knowledge but not with a mind to obey. We all meant well, and the end we had in mind was closeness to God. Our intentions were pure. Unfortunately, learning something we should do, and then not doing it has become a habit. A habit we have to break!

Some have suggested that our study of the Bible should be done with a mind to obey. New imperatives should not be learned until you are practicing what you've already learned. The pattern would be learn-obey-learn-obey... as opposed to learn-learn-learn-learn-obey-learn-learn. You see that a new habit is being formed.

When put into practice, this can be so freeing. When we immediately obey what we have learned, we are expressing love to the one who said, "If you love me, keep my commandments."

Some have referred to this practice (and modeling/mentoring this practice for others) as "Obedience Based Discipleship." However, this is a misnomer that can lead to confusion. I'll discuss that in a later post.

In the meantime, don't sweat it if you can't think of what book comes after Lamentations. Or if you can't remember how many p's are in Philippians. In the entrance exam, I doubt they will count off too much for spelling. Simply don't allow yourself to accumulate knowledge without first acting on what you know.

Security

We knew before we left China that it would be difficult to maintain the fervor and intensely spiritual perspective we had cultivated there. Two months after landing in America, we're seeing that prophecy unfurl into truth. One of the challenges we face here that we never considered in China was the temptation to bend the knee before the god of Security.

Kris and I were reading in 2 Chronicles 16 a few nights ago, where King Asa's legend is recorded. Evidently, he had a strong showing as a king of Judah. He commanded the people of Judah to follow the Lord and had all of the idols torn down in the land. Unfortunately, there is one blemish on Asa's record. Although he tore down the literal idols, he (like many of us) bowed to the idol of Security.

When another king made plans to attack Asa, he scoured his kingdom, collecting silver and gold to send to a neighboring king in order to buy his allegiance and stave off war. Asa's plan worked, war was averted and his enemies were defeated, but God was not pleased. Why? Because when trouble came, Asa "relied on the king of Syria, and did not rely on the Lord."

I know the feeling. Did you know that the Master's of Divinity (the degree I'm pursuing) is in the top five lowest-paying graduate degrees in the nation? It's true. What if there are no jobs available? And if there are, what if the salary's too low to support my family? Why not cut bait and transfer my hours to a more profitable degree? Kris and I are planning to go back to the mission field in about four years. That's a bone-head move financially speaking. When we come home from five or ten years of mission work, I'll be in my mid to late thirties, starting from scratch. Why not just stay here, get a good job and start building tenure? I mean, it's the safest bet.

One of the surprising things about Asa's decision to put his faith in Security instead of his Lord is that years before, in the infancy of his kingship, an army of a million Ethiopians waged war on Judah. Against those impossible odds, Asa cried out to the Lord, "O Lord, there is none like you to help, between the mighty and the weak. Help us, O Lord our God, for we rely on you..." That day, the Lord defeated the Ethiopians and their 300 chariots.

As I'm tempted every day to put my faith in myself or in my resources or my education or my connections, I need to remember the battles of the past. At the end of the day, my strength pales in comparison to His.

"For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to give strong support to those whose hearts are completely his."

Is, Was, and Always Will Be

I wrote this post for two reasons: To share how God's hand has worked in my life and to encourage you to look back on your story and see the hand of God. When we share how God has moved in our lives he is glorified.

I recently interviewed for a youth ministry position in Texas. In preparation for the interview, the head of the search committee asked me to prepare to tell my story in ten to fifteen minutes. His intention was to give the committee a chance to get to know me on a personal level, but the fortunate byproduct was that in preparation for the interview, I had the chance to look back on my life and see how God has blessed me over the years. It left me with a sense of gratefulness and awe- his hand in my life can be clearly seen and has made all the difference.

In college God revealed to me my passion for ministry. Through mentors, experiences and divine appointments, he hammered out some of my kinks and forced me to adapt and mature. Mission trips and youth internships were a tool he used to break down false ideas I held about what life in Christ should look like. All the while, he was uniquely gifting me for service in his kingdom.

Also in college I met my wife, built perfectly for me as sure as Eve was made for Adam. There are billions of women in the world, but none better suited for me, who shares my passions and whose personality is just the type to keep me on track. Kris is especially blessed with an ear for the Spirit and a compulsion to follow where it leads. I wish that I had the connection with the Spirit that she has, but at least I can be married to someone with this gift. Our union is the work of God.

Tim Frizzell invited me to Crieve Hall church right out of college. This, again, was the work of God. Nowhere else could our young marriage have grown so well. God used Tim as a mentor to show me, who grew up fatherless, what it meant to be a minister and a Christian man. Also in Nashville, Kris and I saw our relationship pass through the fire. In our first year of marriage, Kris suffered from intense depression that rocked our relationship. There was a time that was very dark and difficult for both of us. At 21/22 years of age, we had to grow up fast. In hindsight, this crucible was a blessing from God. We emerged from that time of darkness knowing that our marriage would last a lifetime. After a year of marriage, we had been through more together than many marriages face in ten years. I'm convinced that this was a time of preparation that strengthened us for the future.

Another divine appointment occurred when I was introduced to Church Planting Movements in 2008. Until then, I didn't understand what true discipleship was about. Until then, I didn't understand what it meant to be radically obedient to God. Through CPM, God convicted me of things in his Word that I had never seen before. It fundamentally changed my life. If it hadn't been for my exposure to CPM, I would be a completely different man, and a much less obedient man. I also wouldn't have gone to China.

The Spirit tugged at Kris more than it tugged at me to go to China. If it hadn't been for her, I think we would have stayed in Memphis. But the Spirit wouldn't let her stay in the States. God wanted us there for a specific purpose, and he overcame impossible odds to get us jobs teaching in Hangzhou.

Our experience in China proved to be another time of training for me and Kris. Through our experience, God taught us what missional living looks like. He continued to teach us how to be a husband and a wife. He showed us that reaching the lost is his mission, and all we need to do is show up. We learned the value of community, fellowship, accountability, and complete obedience to God. In the midst of our schooling, God used us to draw the lost out of darkness into light.

Now in Texas, God has revealed another way in which he has been pushing our raft down the river of life. When we were in Memphis, Kris really struggled with finding a meaningful job. In her first two years out of college, she had worked at a clothing store, a sweet shop, and a bank, contributing little to society and scorning her seemingly worthless college degree. We were devastated when she applied and interviewed for her dream job in Memphis but was rejected. How could God deny her what she wanted to do for his glory? Now, two years later and maybe ten years more mature, Kris has been hired for the same dream job she was denied in Memphis. God's response to our prayers two years ago was not "No," but, "Not now." If Kris had gotten that job, we would never have gone to China.

So here I sit, post-interview, waiting to hear back from the search committee. I don't know if I'll get the job. Will this be the one, or will I continue the search? With joy in my heart, I can honestly say I don't care, as long as his will is done. How could I look back on my life and not trust that God will choose the very best future? With or without this job, I will rejoice, because he who crafted my past already has the future mapped out. Praise God for that.

How has God blessed your journey? Take the time to look back on your life with an eye for the hand of God. Then share your story with someone for the praise of his glory.

David Goes to the Dentist

Well, we're back. And things couldn't be weirder.

Evidently culture shock is a two-way street. We've been in America for a week now and every day we have encountered things that make us feel like we got stuck somewhere between the Twilight Zone and the Bermuda Triangle. I thought I'd share some of those vertigo moments.

1. When we first got home, Kris' mom made me a sandwich. That sandwich had more meat on it than I would've eaten in a full week in China. She asked if I wanted milk to drink. I said, "Yes, thank you. Just a small glass." When I saw my glass of milk on the table a moment later, it was huge. I wasn't sure I could lift it to my mouth. I thought Debbie had surely given me her biggest glass, but I looked in the cabinet later and saw that she had indeed given me the small glass. It only seemed enormous because all of our vessels in China resembles glass thimbles.

2. When Kris thought of home, she thought of Annie. When I thought of home, I thought about food. Buffalo Wild Wings, Las Palmas, Lasagna, Fajitas, etc. The irony is that for the first five days or so back in the States, I couldn't eat a thing! My stomach was in knots all day every day and when my fleeting appetite appeared, I was only able to eat a small child's portion.

3. After my tumtum healed, we made it to Rosa's, a very fine Mexican restaurant in North Richland Hills. After forking out 20 bucks (140 yuan?!) for two dinners, I set down my fajita nachos on the table and went to the fixins counter for salsa and pico. I was amazed when I saw a huge vat of sour cream and an unlimited supply of individual Ranch dressing packets. My immediate instinct was to fill my pockets with Ranch dressing. In China, this was gold! Here, you just ask and they'll pour it directly in your pie hole.

4. Free refills on milk at IHOP.

5. Our worship in Hangzhou involved a very intimate number of eight to ten people who knew each other very well. This was not the case at Legacy church this morning. In a room of 800+, I felt like one of those chickens in a coop struggling to get the corn on the conveyor belt. This church culture is going to take some getting used to.

The moral of the story is that God did just what I asked him to do while we were in China. He changed me. Though there are friends and family members who will expect me to be the same person I was ten months ago, I am not that guy. Time has changed me, China and its people have changed me, God has changed me. I'll never see the world the same way again. I praise God for that.

Homeward Bound

Can you believe it's time to come home? The van is coming to pick us up and take us to the airport in four hours. There were times this year when time moved like molasses, but now it seems like this year was much less viscous.

I want to thank all of you who followed this blog regularly all year. Your comments here and through other mediums has been encouraging. I really think this blog was a good outlet for me to see the spiritual formation God has been working on in me and I'm thankful you took the time to read along. You who followed this blog as well as Kris' have as intimate a connection with our experience as anyone. Thank you for the prayers you offered on our behalf and on behalf of the people we mentioned here.

I'm not sure of my plans for this space after our return to the States, but I hope to continue posting once we get settled. Thanks again for reading and participating in the mission of God.

Cambodia to Laos

There are so many things to report and not enough time at the moment. The team just landed in Laos after three days in Cambodia. We'll be here in Luang Probang for the next 48 hours or so. Although we've encountered a lot of obstacles and spiritual warfare, we have been blessed with safety and God's Spirit has put us where we needed to be when we needed to be there. We count it a blessing to encounter difficulty, becasue Satan's attempts to foil our plans only confirms that God is doing an important work. In future blog posts, you'll read all about frog attacks, airport misques, frustrations and successes. But I guess this post will serve as a teaser.

We're safe and happy in Laos for now. Pray that our hearts are open as God's Spirit blows us wherever he wishes. Love to you.