With tack-sharp clarity I recall the day I was handed the keys to my family's 1978 Chevy Impala station wagon. Turd brown. It was there and then, as I stomped on the accelerator, that I began to road test a new strategy for coping with personal pain.
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.