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I am your father. Sorry.

I am your father. Sorry.

Becoming a True Son - Part 1

The first miles in my journey as a father are reminiscent of the Titanic's maiden voyage. Just below the calm surface of my manhood was an iceberg my son's ship was destined to hit. When it finally happened we were both ripped open by the collision.

No man can foresee that fatherhood, which usually begins so promisingly, will inevitably require a violent pruning of our manhood.

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North Pole. South Pole.

North Pole. South Pole.

By the hand of providence, I have a friend in Russia and a few in Scandinavia who are laboring for the gospel courageously. Like the running salmon that draw fishermen from all over the world to that region, there are a few men swimming furiously against the swift current of a culture that is attempting to neuter the God-given hearts of men and women.  The result is the recasting of male and female

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There and Back Again

There and Back Again

I love seeing how through random relationships with kingdom minded men and women, the Father has outlasted my resistance. He continues to shock me with the intimate way He offers himself in both fathering and friendship. Somewhere along the way in the journey of my becoming a son, the Wild Goose called me into a relationship with a wildly glorious Russian saint, 

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BIGGER IS BETTER. Part 1

BIGGER IS BETTER. Part 1

When I was 10 years old I payed good money to see Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark nine (9) times in the theater.  Regular price was a whopping $1.25 but the matinee was only $.75, leaving money for a soda. That Summer I carried a makeshift whip at my side and changed my name to Indiana. 

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LITTLE LIGHTS

LITTLE LIGHTS

In defiance of darkness' historic claims on me, I chose to install lights in my backyard today instead of letting my joy be stolen by the pressure of preparation for an upcoming mission.  My heart's ache and desperation, historically addressed by striving and over-preparation, found true healing today by stringing up little luminescent reminders of what's to come

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BEAVER WOOD LEADS ME TO JESUS

BEAVER WOOD LEADS ME TO JESUS

There are moments when beauty hurts. Sitting with my bare feet in the cold running water I watched my kids frolic. We'd been here catching bugs and other critters for a while to stretch our legs after hundreds of miles on the road. We needed to carry on if we wanted to cross the continental divide while it was still light. But this small stream had exactly what I wanted. 

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