Like the chiseled Arctic coastline and like Jesus himself, God's sons are born again and disciplined in full view of the world. God's intention is that we become attention grabbing revelations of some aspect of His nature and goodness that can be seen nowhere else.
I've been a full time pastor, a company CEO and have probably led a thousand more people in other capacities over the years, but these offices have proven mere child's play compared to offering a simple Bible study with my family.
I know few fathers today who crack open the Bible with their family...
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.
Maleness is beautiful.
It may be a little awkward to say, but isn't maleness beautiful? There are no arguments about whether femininity is. Many would now argue that diversity is. And tolerance. But who is arguing that authentic masculinity is? Nobody. And it is killing our sons. It is frankly killing us as men too.
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
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,
A few painful question leaked out of my lost and wandering heart 15 years ago. "What did you create me to do?" and "Will you give me one thing I can do really well for you?" Beyond the joys and challenges of my most important occupation as a loving husband and father, this poem, a simple and heartfelt reflection of my heart's most enduring desires, is his answer to the ever-present question of my calling.
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.
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