I was just thinking of some reasons that youth leaders should get out of youth ministry (or should reconsider entering it).  Feel free to add or disgree…this list is likely to be non-exhaustive.  These are all straight from my own experience or from conversations with other youth leaders, but I’d love to hear about yours.

1.  If you view youth ministry as the price you pay on the toll road to “real” ministry.

Believe it or not, some youth leaders view youth ministry as a “placeholder” until they get called up to the “big leagues” of real pastoral ministry.  I’d be offended if I weren’t laughing so hard.

2.  If you want to be rich.

There are some ways to create extra income as a youth pastor (i.e. speaking at events, selling material, etc.) but that’s not the same as thinking being in youth ministry is your ride to Easy Street. It’s not.

3.  If you want to be respected when in conversation with those in corporate jobs.

When I tell people who aren’t in ministry that I’m a fulltime pastor to middle school and high school students, I get a look that’s a combination of “What’s wrong with you?” and “That’s an actual job?” and “Better you than me.” usually immediately followed by awkward silence and an unspoken vow never to speak of it again.

4.  If you want the stability that more often comes with a routine/9-5 job. 

(Routine?  Youth leaders can’t even spell that word. This blog post might be the first time they’ve heard of it.)

5.  If you don’t have or have lost your passion for people.

Ministry is all about people.  Not projects, or projections, or purposes, or prosperity.  It’s all about people.  Forget that and it might be time to pack it up.  Pronto.

6.  If you find yourself irritated when face-to-face interaction pulls you away from project planning or some other such non-personal activity.

Closely related to #5, and more dangerous as your ministry scope grows.  I’m in a fairly largish youth ministry and I abhor spreadsheets as much as I always have.  I can’t ever forget that no matter what I’m doing at any given time in ministry, the attention and need of a teen trumps it.  I hate to admit it, but I’ve actually had teens start a conversation with, “Jerry, I know you’re really busy, but…”

7.  If you don’t feel compassion for the hurting.

People all around you are heading into eternity separated from God.  People all around you are struggling to see any light in the darkness.  People all around you have a story that would break your heart if you were willing to slow down long enough to listen.  If you aren’t willing to listen and hurt with them, you might consider looking for a job where that isn’t critical.

8.  If you’re searching for fame/notoriety/accolades.

Francis Chan (I know, I know–he’s “famous” in his own right) said, “Fame is the most powerful drug among those in ministry right now.”  Getting heard, getting seen, getting “out there” and getting known can be an alluring temptation, especially under the guise of being “more used by God”.  (By the way, have you subscribed to jerrythinks.com and have you tweeted to all your followers about me?)

9.  If you’re not unmistakably called by God to it.

Okay, this one can sometimes be seen as wispy, undefinable, and subjective.  And all I can say is that calling should be verifiable.  Those around you who know the Lord and know you should be able to speak to the issue of your calling.  Your God-giftedness should speak to the issue of your calling.  And given time, the “fruit” of ministry can also serve as something that verifies your calling.

10.

 

Okay, it’s your turn to fill in number 10.  Even if you’re not in youth ministry, you can still share why you’re not or why you think others should think twice before jumping in.

I’ve been an ordained minister since 1999.  However, when I moved from NY to VA I also moved from one denomination to another.  For the most part (typing carefully here), I’m not really big on denominations.  It seems like denominations are the most important to the people who are entrenched in them.  The distinctives between denominations really only serve to confuse most non-churchgoers, in my experience.  I think we’d be better off (again, treading carefully) taking our church signs down and replacing them all with a “You Are Welcome” sign.  But I digress.

So, in order for my ordination to be recognized within the denomination I’m currently in, I’ve been required to take a few classes.  I’m in one such class right now.  This past Saturday I was in the midst of a 4-hour-long conversation about theology and began to hear things and think things that made me want to write things.  So here I am writing things.

I guess I’ll just ask a question: What’s our problem with mystery?  I’m not talking about the Charlie Chan episodes my dad subjected me —er, um…I mean–shared with me as I was growing up.  I’m not talking about Sherlock Holmes.  I’m not talking about the mystery of where your keys or your years since high school went.  I’m talking about our seemingly growing discomfort with the fact that we can’t possibly know the depths and heights of God.  He is unfathomable, unsearchable, and incomprehensible.  And yet when it comes to what we’ll decide to believe, we often get boxed in to what we can understand.  If we can understand it, then we’re okay to believe it.  But if its outside the reach of our intellect and logic, then we just can’t embrace it.  Careful there.  Don’t get caught building a view of God that can be contained by your definition of God.

I’ve heard people say in regards to a particular aspect of God’s character, attribute, or activity that “its not fair”.  Well, forgive me for saying so, but Boo hoo hoo.  Since when does what we consider fair have any bearing on the prerogative of Almighty God?  Statements that begin with “I just can’t believe that God would….” have no place in what constitutes our understanding of who God is and what God does.  In fact, if we’re going to get scriptural, the less sense things make to you, the more likely they’re making sense to God.  Check out Isaiah 55:8 in a variety of translations here.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD.”

I will walk with, investigate, study, learn, love, talk with, and follow God for the rest of my life and I can guarantee that there will be times when I’m just going to have to be okay with scratching my head.  I imagine standing at a well.  It’s a deep well with an unending supply of fresh, cool water.  This well simply won’t run dry; it’ll always yield water to drink.  I’m holding a ladle and the ladle I’m holding represents all that I can know of God in my lifetime.  I will spend my life sipping from that ladle and marveling at the refreshment that water brings.  I will reach the end of my life never once thirsting because in that ladle was all I needed, and furthermore all I could handle.  But the fact remains that there is still a virtually bottomless well of truth about God that I’ve never even touched or seen in my lifetime.  It is in that satisfaction of heart that I live.  I am completely at ease with loving an unsearchable God.  It is at His complete discretion that He adopt me for no good reason in and of myself and it is equally within His discretion that He discard me and never give me another thought.  I am a child of His and while I can type it, I can’t fully comprehend it.  I know it, but I do not fully realize all that it means.  I embrace it and revel in it, but I cannot fully understand it.  This is what it means to love the mystery of God.  It is His to do with this world as He pleases, whether that is to think no more about the earth and in a moment see it vaporize into the dust of space, or to patiently wait for a moment in the future that only He knows where He will set all things to the right condition of His choosing.

When was the last time you were in an argument?  Who was it with? What was it about? Did you win? Lose? Draw?  Did the person arguing with you persuade or even sway you to their way of thinking? Even a little?  Be honest–did the title of this blog pull you in? Even a little?

Arguments have a way of solidifying for each side that they’re side is right and the other side is wrong.  Dead wrong.  And even if you could shoot them in the neck with a syringe full of truth syrum, they’d probably never admit that they were wrong.  Pride won’t let them.  No, from what I’ve seen arguments do one thing really well: build walls that weren’t there before and thicken walls that already exist.

I saw a license plate recently that made me chuckle.  If I hadn’t been in such a hurry, I’d have followed that person to wherever it was they were going and done my best to strike up a conversation with them, testing the accuracy of their claim.

When you find yourself in an argument with someone, you’re on a battlefield whether you realize it or not. It might be over something seemingly small, or it may be over something enormously huge.  No matter what the issue, its present enough to spark a fiery exchange.

I’m fascinated by people who don’t agree with my viewpoint.  In fact, I’d say they’re some of the most fascinating people I interact with.  But I’ve also been in dialogue with those who seem to agree with Mr. License Plate over there; as if once they find out my worldview and my connection to Christianity, well, its “go” time.  They’ve got an ax and they’re looking for a place to grind it.

But I don’t see anything in Scripture that tells Jesus’ followers to do any amount of verbal sparring with those who aren’t following Jesus.  I don’t see any mandate that calls us to “Go therefore and win arguments.”  Why? Because Jesus knew (shocking, I know) that people aren’t argued into a relationship. They’re LOVED in.  When the apostle Paul said “Make the most of every opportunity…”, some people read it as: “Make the most opportunities” and take the Holy Spirit’s job away from Him; He’s the one who calls (1 Cor. 12:3), He’s the who softens hearts, and who convicts of sin (John 16:8-11).   Not us.

Instead, Jesus’ followers are instructed: “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…”  (1 Peter 3:15)

Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m not one for mamsy-pamsy, milk-toast, easy-believism, I’m-okay-you’re-okay-we’re-okay-that’s-okay kind of wallflower follower of Christ either.  It’s just that I don’t see Jesus calling His followers into arguing His Kingdom.  If you want to take it a step further, you might want to check out the parable Jesus told about the “Wheats and the Tares”.  Jesus advocated for leaving the weeds to grow up among the wheat until harvest time when we’d all see what’s wheat and what’s weed.  In just the same way, militant argumentative attitudes are simply not the way of Jesus and shouldn’t be the tactic of His followers.  Instead, God’s Word gives us wisdom like “A soft answer turns away wrath.” (Proverbs 15:1)

And if you do find yourself in an argument and there isn’t an easy way out, here’s what you should remember:

1. Be motivated by love, not the need to be (or appear) right.  Remember that the other person is just like you, but with an opposing perspective.

2. Keep your answers clear and keep them gentle.  Let the other person know that you’ve heard them, even if you disagree with them.

3. Always have the goal of reconciliation at the forefront of your mind.  This was the mission of Christ and is the commission given to those who call Him Lord.  (2 Corinthians 5:18)

 

I’ve heard lots of people say things like…

“Oh, I’m not the creative type.”

“I wish I were creative like other people.”

“How do you come up with this stuff?”

“Some people are just creative, but I’m definitely not one of them.”

But I have a few thoughts on creativity and believe me, I’ve had more than my fair share of “creative blocks” that I’ve had to deal with.  I’ve been in fulltime ministry for long enough to know that creativity is a powerful thing, but its also a universal thing.  Lots of people (most perhaps) see a great deal of value in being creative and as the worn saying goes, “thinking outside the box”.  First I want to address those who have thought anything along the lines of the statements above.  Then I’ll address all of us as creative creatures.

Bruce Lee once said “As you think, so shall you become.”  Bruce Lee is probably the most well-known martial artist ever and you gotta love that, but Mr. Lee was borrowing from the wisdom of Solomon in the King James version of the Old Testament Proverbs: “For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he:…”  (23:7)

Now, I’m not saying that if you simply think you’re Picasso, then you’ll be cranking out million-dollar masterpieces by this afternoon, but I do believe there is something to be said for the power of our thoughts.  Most of your thoughts do nothing more than perpetuate your current state.  Think about this: what would happen if you began to thinking positively about who you are, where you are, and where you’re going?  I’m walking carefully here because quite frankly I strongly disagree with the pie-in-the-sky messages of communicators like Joel Osteen, Fred Price, and Creflo Dollar.  I’m not saying your thoughts will change your situation; I’m saying that your thoughts serve to either move you forward, keep you stuck, or even move you backwards.  Simply put, you’d do well to vow to not refer to yourself as uncreative or devoid of creativity.  You’re simply not.

I can say this with certainty because you and I are created.  Not only are we created, but our creative Creator has created us in the likeness of His own creative image.  So, simply by virtue of the fact that you’ve been CREATED, you are then CREATIVE.  You are.  You can refute it, but that doesn’t make it less true.

Also, we tend to only use the word “creative” in reference to those who create aesthetically.  We think of painters, artists, marketers, musicians, Bear Grylls, and sculptors. But what about engineers? Strategists? What about teachers? Mathematicians? Virtually anyone solving any problem in any context anywhere bears the creativity badge.  In fact, I’d contend that you cannot live a single day without a strong dose of creativity.  Its utilized in traffic, in conversations, in child-rearing, in conflict resolution, and in recreation to name just a few places.  Creativity abounds wherever you are, whoever you are.

Now, once you reckon yourself as creative (because you are), you may find from time to time that your sense of creativity wanes.  Don’t panic.  You haven’t lost it; it hasn’t been used up.  You just need to pick it up again.  Here are a few tips I’ve found helpful in regaining creative thought:

1. Read.  I’ve found fewer things that spark creative juices flowing like soaking in someone else’s thoughts on paper.  And for me, it doesn’t even necessarily have to be related to anything I’m facing.  Just the act of getting out of my own head and into someone else’s is a powerful act that brings back that creative spark.  You might say, “I don’t have time to read a book.”  Maybe you don’t, but a great tool I’ve found is an app called “Flipboard”.  Flipboard is a digital magazine that is customized to whatever topics you choose. To the right is my Flipboard home page and a few of the topics I’ve chosen to flip through.  It takes as much time as I choose to give it and I hardly ever come away without some new thoughts.  And Iobviously can’t recommend the Bible highly enough.  What’s today’s date? The 4th? Go to Proverbs chapter 4 (there are 31) and read it 3 times.  Whatever the date, read that chapter in Proverbs. Good stuff!

2. Talk.  Connect with someone in conversation, but aim at what they’re dealing with, not what you’re dealing with.  Listen to them speak about their own life, their dilemmas, their joys, their path.  Reflect back to them what you hear, asking them questions.  The closer you are to this person the better because they’ll trust you enough to share nitty-gritty.  Get yourself to a place where you’re listening to and helping someone else and you’ll be amazed at the outcome and the insights you gain about yourself.  In the past couple of years, I’ve attended the Simply Youth Ministry Conference and this is a fantastic place to talk with people from all over the youth ministry universe and listen to the things they deal with and walk in.  I couldn’t make it to SYMC this year, but I hope to return.  That’s just one great example (albeit very large-scale) of what I’m talking about.  Often times listening to others and engaging with where they are helps us more than we think it will.

3. Break routine.  Sometimes its our surroundings that box us in.  Getting a different physical view can help get a different mental and spiritual view as well.  And don’t be picky; any change in scenery can help knock loose your gummed up creative gears.  Are you usually working at a desk?  Stand up, walk outside, and take nothing but a voice recorder for you. As you walk, you’ll think, as you think, talk and record what you say.  There’s something called oxygenation and its a payoff of getting up and moving around. Your thoughts get clearer and even more creative.

4.  Just start.  This past week, my wife and I painted our livingroom.  We moved into this house 4 1/2 years ago and when we first walked it, we swore painting the living would be the first thing we’d do.  We often fear starting because we’re unsure of what the outcome will be.  Will it be any better than where we are? Or will it be worse?  The truth is, we are usually overblowing the likelihood of some negative outcome.  We’re in fear that stepping out from where we are automatically equals stepping onto a tight rope over an inferno just waiting to consume us.  Silly us.  Start whatever it is and do it today.  You’ll likely wonder why you waited this long.

If you’ve ever watched the show “Man VS. Wild” with Bear Grylls, you know that Bear goes nowhere without his knife and flint.  Now, you may not find yourself making a sleeping sack out of a seal hide tonight, but the fact remains that we all need that “flint” to create that “spark” to start the fire of creativity.  Which of the 4 sparks listed above to you need to try?  Or is there another you can add to the list?  How do you step back into creativity when you find it lacking?  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I’ve been in fulltime ministry since cutting and pasting was actually cutting and pasting. And through the years, I’ve met people who have shaped the way I think.  When I first began my first fulltime ministry position in 1995, I was a typical fresh-out-of-college type of punk; knew it all and couldn’t wait to school anybody watching on how ministry is really supposed to be done. Boy have I learned that I still have a whole lot to learn. Let me pause here and encourage you to ask God where pride is getting the best of you.  Because He detests pride so much, He’ll be more than happy to show you exactly where its at. And quick.

My first ministry post lasted 2 years.  In 1997 I moved on from Northern VA to Nyack, NY.  I loved Nyack (still do) and the new ministry context.  While I had learned so much in VA, I by no means had “arrived” anywhere.  Still with lots of gusto, I plunged myself into my new position head-first.  I had been there for 4 years or so when my senior pastor came to our apartment to tell me that he was about to go into a board meeting where he’d be resigning his position.  I was stunned, saddened, and inwardly devastated.  My mind and heart immediately asked God, “What about me? This is the man who led my hiring. Should I consider packing up, too?” I’m not sure how to explain it, but almost as immediately as I asked, I sensed an answer: “No.”  So, over the next 14 months I served as the only fulltime pastor on staff.  Can you imagine it?  The youth guy at the helm? Crazy, right?

During that time, I stepped even more into a leadership role; almost an interim of sorts.  I led board meetings, I preached a whole lot more, and I generally did more of the things a senior pastor would do. I was even approached with an inquiry if I would be interested in being considered for the role of senior pastor.  Those who know me already know the answer; even to this day student ministry is where I feel God wants me and I can’t get over how clear that has been over the years.

One of the things I honesty got more involved in was regularly planned prayer meetings.  And there was a guy there named Joe that always caught my attention. Remember, I’m still a young, spry, let’s-take-the-next-hill, why-are-we-standing-around, hurry-up-and-do-it kind of leader. But when it was Joe’s turn to pray…

“Heavennnly Faaatherrrrr…..” This slow, drawn out snail’s pace of his prayers would simultaneously irritate me and teach me.  Every syllable just seemed soooooooo ssssllllooooooooooowwwwwww.  While I was in such a hurry to get to the next thing on the to-do list, Joe was completely content to sit and simply talk to Jesus.  And honestly, at first I just didn’t get it.  I thought “How in the world can someone take so long doing something like this.”  Kind of reminds me of a couple sisters named Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42).  Martha was hurried, worried, and busy with the work at hand.  Mary wasn’t lazy, she just knew what should come first.  Joe taught me so much without even trying.  He taught me that I was (and perhaps most of us are) in a far greater hurry than God is.  He taught me that I’m far more likely to run ahead of Jesus than lag behind.  He taught me that I’m the kind of guy who’ll call back over my shoulder saying, “Hey Jesus, follow me!” while Jesus responds with, “Hey, that’s my line.”

So if you know me now in the place I’m at in ministry, you’ve likely noticed that I don’t tend to rush things….anything really.  And that’s in large part thanks to a wonderful friend of God named Joe.

My story may or may not be entirely unique, but it is uniquely my own. I was born in Goldsboro, North Carolina in 1973 and lived there until the age of 5 when my family (two older sisters, Mom and Dad) moved to Cape May, NJ as my dad had gotten a call to be the pastor of a small independent Baptist church there.

I grew up literally in the shadow of the church and as I grew, made my way through the ranks of Sunday School, children’s choir, Royal Ambassadors, and Boys Brigade. Along the way, I tried to have as much fun as I could while tolerating learning things like the books of the Bible, key stories in the Word, the hymns of our faith, and how to sit through an entire church service.

At the age of eight, I remember one Sunday evening service and my dad–weary from the days activities–wrapping up another meagerly attended service. (I observed and decided from a young age that only the real Christians came back on Sunday night.)  Closing the service as was typical for him, my dad had called for anyone who’d like to receive forgiveness of their sins to come forward. My eight-year-old mind knew just enough to know that I had sinned and needed forgiveness. As the closing hymn played, I made my way toward the aisle. I would find out later that this irked my dad because he saw me move toward the aisle and thought I was going to the bathroom. (In his defense, it was one of my better-known escape tactics.) But as I reached the end of the pew, I took a hard right and headed up the aisle toward my dad who was standing up front. It was that night that I decided that Jesus sounded awesome and if any God willing to forgive me of my wrong choices was willing to take a chance on me, then I was certainly willing to take Him up on his offer. That night: Forgiveness, full and free.

With a new lease on life and my buddy Jesus tagging along with me wherever I went, you’d think I’d have instantly turned into a young Billy Graham in the lunchroom at school. Maybe standing atop the case of half pints of milk, inviting sinners to not let another recess go by without laying it all down at the altar. But oddly enough, not much changed. Not much at all as I recall. I remained more interested in Kool-Aid than Kingdom work and more into my bike than the Bible.

The years went by and I continued to go to church, even getting more and more involved with the nuts and bolts of how a church service happens. Show up early, unlock the doors, turn on the lights, straighten the hymnals, change the hymn numbers on the front wall, turn on the sound system, and pick up any leftover bulletins that may have found their way under the pews. Maybe I wasn’t Billy Graham, but I was feeling like Billy the janitor and that was a start. It was in those young years that I learned a very powerful truth: Most people wait for the service to start before they worship; but in reality, worship starts with service. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked my dad for teaching me that invaluable truth. Thanks, Dad.

A monthly outing that my dad always took me along on was his Sunday afternoon ministry to the residents at South Cape Nursing Home. It was a dreadful smelling place where old people gathered in the rec room (a few under compulsion by the staff) for a time of singing and a short devotional by the Reverend Ronald Varner.  Even now, if I stop and be quiet, I can still hear the tinny sound of that upright piano echoing down the halls, bellowing out “In the Garden”, one of the old folks’ favorite tunes…

“And He walks with me, and He talks with me, And He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there… None other has ever known.”

There is one man I somehow always looked forward to seeing; a man I know I won’t ever forget. I only knew him by “Frank”. Frank had an amputated leg and was wheelchair bound. Balding and severely hunched over, he’d lift his head as far as he could, cocked to one side, to give you a less-than-toothy grin. I don’t recall Frank ever saying one word. All I remember about Frank is that Frank loved to play the tambourine. No matter what song was playing from that piano, if Frank had the tambourine, you could always count on him playing along while smiling ear to ear. Frank had tremors, which made him a natural at the tambourine. Grasped in his arthritic hand, he’d gently shake that old wooden tambourine in time with the music. Most people wait until they have what they consider something special to give to The Lord. But Frank taught me that no matter what you’ve got in your hand, its exactly what God wants you to use to praise Him. I don’t think I’ve ever actually thanked my dad for dragging me to that smelly nursing home to learn that incredible truth.  Thanks, Dad.

I wish I could tell you that during my teen years my sense of selflessness just grew and grew. Sadly, I began to live as if one person alone mattered, and it wasn’t Jesus Christ. I became deceptive, disrespectful, disobedient, and destructive in nearly every relationship I had.  At one point, my parents literally confronted me with suspicion of drug use. That’s how erratic and nonsensical my behavior had become. I take full responsibility for my actions and the devastation they caused. I had driven my parents to the end of their rope and they had nowhere else to turn. If I close my eyes even now I’m transported right back to our small den, and I’m looking down at the carpet while enduring yet another lecture from my dad. I’d look over at my mom who’d be weeping quietly at the condition of her home, all thanks to her selfish teenage son. My parents had two very distinct approaches to communicating their displeasure with my choices: my dad was the talker, my mom was the…well…I don’t know what to call it. But I can tell you that the look of sadness in her eyes would convey volumes more than the endless stream of words coming from my dad. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked my mom for caring and showing her love (albeit heartbroken love) the way she did during that time in my life. Thanks, Mom.

I remember the last time we’d have a talk like that in our den. I remember the change in my perspective that came in the blink of an eye. I don’t remember much of anything else but the feeling of being struck in the face by my out-of-options dad. I remember the feeling of the carpet on my face, the shout of terror from my older sister at what she had just seen, and the recoil of my dad standing over me. I don’t know if that blow was open-handed or closed, and quite honestly I really don’t care. All I know is from that moment forward I saw things quite differently. I saw them through different lenses than the blurry, distorted ones I had been wearing. I began to see things from others’ point of view. Most people think it’s their own perspective (or rights, or happiness, or desires) that matters most, when in reality mine matters least. What matters most is where God is at, what He’s doing, and how I belong to Him.  I don’t think I’ve ever thanked my dad for knocking me to the floor of our den. From what I can tell, he more than likely saved my life. Thanks, Dad.

Soon after the one-punch knock-down episode, I remember laying in my bed one night. I wish I had the foresight at the time to write down the date, but I know that it’ll be seared in my memory forever. I was lying there thinking back over the recent events in my life, how I had messed things up so badly with my parents, how thankful I was for their willingness to forgive and how I felt completely devoid of any spiritual worth; that God was fed up and that I was useless to Him. I had simply gone too far. Now, you need to understand that I grew up in a very conservative church setting. We didn’t have any snakes, hot coals, or tongues of fire. Heck, if you were clapping at church it was only after that special duet of the old husband on his violin and his old wife on the piano. Needless to say, “weird” stuff didn’t happen because God wasn’t weird. He was God.

And there’s really no other way to put it than to just say that my God came into my room that night. In a weird way that was beyond unmistakable, I knew that God was with me, not far off and sitting somewhere, disgusted by me, saying “Tsk, tsk, tsk…I had such high hopes for him, too.” It was a moment that still today is one of my most dearly held moments of awe. I couldn’t do anything but slide out from under my covers, drop to my knees next to my bed, bury my face in my mattress and sob. The room was almost lit with the presence of God. And I knew exactly what He wanted me to know. It’s the same thing He wants you to know, no matter who you are, where you are, or what you’ve done:

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I forgive you.

I want you.

I restore you.

I heal you.

I’m with you.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Months later at a music festival in Altoona, PA I listened to a message by a man named Tony Campolo. Have you ever been in a church service and even with people all around you, it was as if you were the only one there? Like the message was just for you? Well, I was surrounded by 12,000 people and as far as God and I were concerned, it was just God and I. At the end of that message titled “Radical Conversion” (which I still have on cassette and listen to), Tony gave an invitation to respond. My prayer in that moment, (and still is today) was:

“God, wherever you want me to go, I’ll go. Whatever you want me to say, I’ll say. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”

That day stands as a “stake in the ground” declaration for me. I’ve never once forgotten that decision, and I’ve never once regretted it. Not once. Ever.

Most people think that they need to “get their act together” before coming to God. But I’ve learned that not only does God still use screw-ups, it seems to me that He ONLY uses screw-ups.

This was the start of my story.  A story that every day God continues to write.

This blog started ironically in Hobby Lobby (a decidedly NON-masculine place) where I was with my oldest son, buying supplies for his science experiment when I saw this sign: 

In the interest of full disclosure, my immediate thought was: “Ridiculous…who the heck is buying that?!?”

I’m all about guys being guys and ladies being ladies.  But I’ve got to admit something: I’ve always been confused by the concept of “The Man Cave”.  Before you call me Nancy, hear me out.

The idea behind a man cave is for a dude to have a space for himself, for his friends, and for his interests. It’s the adult equivalent of the childhood tree fort with the “no girls allowed” hand-painted sign hanging on the door. Poker table, beer fridge, flat screen, dartboard, gun rack, deer heads, and anything else that gives that dude a place of solitude, a place of recess, a place of retreat, and a place all his own.  What could I possibly (especially as a guy) have against such a guyish euphoria?

It’s silly.  I know that silly has its place, but dedicating an entire room in the house for the dude to have fun?  Call me crazy but for me, that room is my bedroom.  *winkwink*

It’s selfish.  I think its good for married men to have a sense of “this is my house” and “I’m the king of my house”, or whatever else peps them up to stand up and lead.  But saying “this is my room” and “I’m the king of this room” seems a bit…well…self-serving.

It’s sad.  Really? You need space between you and your family? You need peace and quiet where you can watch the game? Ugh.  So sorry for you.  I guess I’m the kind of guy/husband/dad that actually CRAVES as much time with my family as I can get. 

I know this blog post is perhaps uncharacteristically rant-like, and I know you might think I’m just whining because I don’t have a man cave so I’m jealousy ripping on those who do.  And I further know that it probably crushes any invitations that were forthcoming to man caves worldwide.  

I can live with all three of those.