I’ve been thinking recently about goal-setting.  Let me say at the outset that I’ve never really been a huge goal-setter; at least not in the purest sense of the term.  I’ve done fine with lists and tasks and accomplishments and generally getting things done, but goals to me are a different matter altogether.

And while I have known that statistically speaking, those who write down their goals represent those who are generally the most successful, I have honestly neglected this most basic of disciplines.  That is, until now.

I believe the most achievable goals are the simplest and near-future goals.  While “run an Ironman” might be an admirable goal (to some), it’s not one that has a ring of sensibility–at least not to me and not now.  In the interest of simplicity, I’d like to share 3 goals in 3 different areas: spiritual, physical, & developmental.  And in order to keep it in front of me, I’d like to attach these goals to the month of February.  So, by the end of February, I’m setting as my personal goals…

Spiritual: Re-read/study/share what I learn from the book of Romans (I started it this morning and could easily spend all month in chapter 1).  This blog will undoubtedly be a clearinghouse for some of those thoughts this month.

Physical: Lose 5 pounds of fat in the month of February.

Developmental: Meet with 2 of the people I admire (be it online, by phone, or in-person) who are doing/have done what I’d like to move my ministry toward.

Certainly there are more areas than these in which to establish goals, but like I said I believe that simplicity is a key factor in goal-setting and more importantly goal-getting.

With these goals staring me in the face this month, I’m excited (and nervous) to keep you updated on how I’m doing in each of these areas.

Evangelism is reaching a 4-letter-word status in America today, I’m afraid.  Say the word to any Joe or Jane on the street and they’ll likely retort with descriptive images of greasy pulpit predators who, with eyes flowing with glycerin tears, look into the camera, pleading for you to ensure the blessing of God on their ministry (and your life) by picking up that phone right now–not later because later is too late–and pledging your bank account number and your commitment to monthly payments.

That’s evangelism?  No, not at all.  Today, “evangelism” has become synonymous with “televangelism”.  But in reality there is one big difference.  The first is commanded in Scripture.  The other is a sham world of scam artists who are themselves headed toward a Godless eternity, I’m afraid.  In reality, most Christians are laughing at those idiots on TV right along with non-Christians.

The word “evangelism” shares its Greek (“euangelos”) roots with the word “angel” (found nicely in the center of the word).  And the word “angel” simply means “messenger”.  Read the stories of angels in the Bible and you’ll find that by and large, they’re primary job was that of messengers.  And that is the glorious burden of Jesus’ followers to this day.

But we’re slow to get after it.  That’s because we as Christians are painfully aware of the baggage that evangelism has carried.  Here are a few words spoken to me over years from those I’ve tried to speak with about Christianity/God/faith/the Gospel:

“Don’t shove your beliefs on me.”

“I’m glad your truth works for you, but I have my own truth.”

“Faith in God is for the weak. You Christians just need a crutch to lean on that logical people don’t need.”

“I’m so sick and tired of you Christians who think you’re so much better than anybody else, when in reality you’re all a bunch of bigots and hypocrites.”

“Go to hell.”

“No. No. No. No. No. I don’t want to talk about that and I don’t think you should talk to anyone about your so-called ‘God’.”

We live in a world of  “tolerance”, where no one is wrong unless they dare say that someone might be wrong.  And many Christians today have given into the fear of being misunderstood, grouped with “those guys”, ostracized, cut off from current relationships, or even persecuted for opening their mouths to speak “the Truth”.  (By the way, 180,000 Christians lost their lives last year for simply following Jesus.  So much for “tolerance”.)

What must happen is for Christians to shake off the chains of fear and step into their God-given responsibility to share the Good News of the Gospel to anyone they can, relying on God for the opportunity, for the words to speak, and most of all for the outcome.  In essence, we need to return to our role of “messenger”.

Jesus told His apostles in the book of Acts that “you will be my witnesses…”  What does a witness do?  A witness is called to simply speak what he/she knows; nothing more, nothing less.  To “witness” to someone is to tell your story, to tell what you know, what you have seen and heard.

So, while I’m not “bible-thumper” who’s going to pounce on every person I see at the grocery store, I do take seriously the call of God on me and on all followers of Christ to invite others to follow Him as well.  I love the story found in the Bible about a man born blind that Jesus healed.  When crowded around by those seeking answers as to what happened to him, and who healed him, and what were the details, the man could only give this answer: “I don’t know if He [Jesus] was a sinner or not. But one I thing I DO know: I was blind, and now I see!” (John 9:25)

Now that’s evangelism.

I started this blog a few years ago.  Every once in a while, I’ll look back through the “archives” just to see what I thought, lived, and wrote about.  Feel free to do the same.  If you do, you’ll get to know me better.

Through the years of blogging, I’ve had one major ache: not being consistent in how regularly I write.  It’s definitely not daily, its rarely weekly, and heck–sometimes it falls to monthly.  Lame.  Really lame, I know.

And today is another day that I’m not blogging.  Well, actually I TRIED to write a blog post and its still sitting there, undone in my “drafts” folder but for whatever reason, it just felt too contrived, or forced, or missing that certain something any blog post of mine has to have before I click “Publish”.

So, here I am, NOT blogging again.  If you’re not me (and I’m guessing you’re not), you might be thinking, “What’s the big deal? Why can’t Varner get it together and just make it a habit. Geez, set an alarm. Stick up a post-it note to remind yourself. Do something to remind yourself, Lame-o.”  Well, of all the reasons I haven’t blogged, forgetting to doesn’t even rank on the list.  The truth is I’m very often thinking about writing.  So, why doesn’t that translate into blog posts that are more than bi-weekly, weekly, or dare I say it–daily?!?  Let me take a stab at some guesses as to why that is:

1. As I alluded to, I need to “feel” like I’ve got something quality to convey (even if its just to myself, as weird as that sounds).  I think this comes from reading too many blogs that are just plain boring.  If it feels like I’m trying too hard, I’ll click “Save Draft” and shut it down.  I currently have a long list (28) of half-baked blog posts just sitting in that draft folder.  And that’s likely where they’ll stay…and die.

2. Very often it happens that I’ll have what I think is a great idea for a post, or a situation I live through that lends itself to being written about.  But by the time I get to my computer, either the thought is gone or I’ve lost some critical piece of it that keeps me from making it work.

3. I often psyche myself out.  Let me share something with you. I’m a guy who’s susceptible to “head games”.  I can lay in my bed in the middle of the night and out-of-the-blue start to feel ill.  Just as quickly as that happens I can take my thoughts out of that line of thinking and feel much better.  How does that relate to blogging?  I don’t know, but the fact remains that I can sit down at a keyboard with every intention of rolling out a blog post, and then sit and stare at the screen.  It just happened again.  See what I mean?  Probably not.

Well, I hope to blog again soon.  But if it ends up being longer than you’d like to wait, may I suggest that you simply subscribe to my blog?  That way, whenever I do post, you’ll be notified.  Sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?

Thanks for coming by, but I’m sorry to say that there just won’t be a blog post today.

This past Christmas season, I traveled with my family to Joplin, Missouri to visit my wife’s family; her sister, her sister’s husband, their 2 young girls, and her parents.  To say that I love “her side” of the family would be a gross understatement.  I am so blessed with the in-laws that I have.  In fact, I can’t think of anyone I know with a better relationship with their in-laws than I have.

While we were there, we spent hours together just talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.  One afternoon, we went out to lunch together–the whole crew of us, all 12.  Toward the end of lunch the younger kids were done and since the restaurant was practically empty besides us, they felt comfortable to get out of the chairs and stroll around our long table, stopping to chat with others.  My youngest daughter Macy was near the head of the table talking to Aunt Markelle, my wife’s sister.

Markelle is approaching her 6th year of battling stage 4 colon cancer which has since spread to her abdomen and lungs.  To look at her, you’d never know it.  She’s a gorgeous young woman–vibrant and alive.  More than 6 years ago, however Markelle and her husband Chris decided to adopt a beautiful girl from Taiwan and I became the proud uncle of the one-in-a-gazillion “Cate”.  Cate was standing next to Macy as Macy talked to Aunt Markelle in that restaurant that day.  Macy asked, “Aunt Markelle, is Cate adopted?”

Okay, have you ever seen one of those paper towel commercials where some kid causes some huge messy spill and they somehow freeze frame the spill while it’s still in the air?  My immediate thought was, “Oh crap, I have no idea what Markelle and Chris have told Cate about being adopted!!!”  To my relief, Markelle said calmly and matter-of-fact to Macy, “Yes, Cate is adopted.”  And by the look on Cate’s face at that moment, this was “old news” to her by now.

But that instance and several others since then have compelled me to really dwell on the issue of adoption.  Adoption is something talked about in the Bible.  It is the very illustration that God chose to use to make clear to us the “transaction” of Him purchasing us for Himself, and bringing us into His family.  As adopted sons and daughters, we are rightfully privileged as “heirs with Christ”.  We are spiritually and “legally” endowed with the same blessings that God the Father places on God the Son.  Take a good long look at Romans 8, beginning in verse 15 (I’m going to type each word, rather than copy and paste them because I need to soak in them again…):

“So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s spirit when he ADOPTED you as his own children. Now we call him ‘Abba, Father.’  For His Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.  And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs to God’s glory.”

This truth cannot be understated.  It cannot be considered too little.  It cannot be studied too closely.  This truth in these 3 verses sum up our position as adopted children of God.  Just as Chris and Markelle CHOSE to begin the adoption process through mounds of paperwork, CHOSE to spare no expense, CHOSE to fly to Taiwan, CHOSE to take that precious child into their arms, their care, their home, and their family….so God CHOSE to lavish His love upon humanity.  God CHOSE to spare no expense–not even the life of His only Son–to purchase me into His family.  Everything that belongs to a member of God’s family now belongs to me.  Every blessing bestowed on a child of God is now bestowed on me.  Every peace, every security, every bit of love given to any one person adopted by God is given to me.  Now I have it.  Now it is mine.  Now I am His.  Now HE is mine.  He is my parent.  I am His son.  I’m not “kinda” His child.  I am HIS fully.  Neither Chris nor Markelle has ever, is now, or will ever feel anything but complete love and total care for Cate.  Cate is not “kinda” anything.  She is FULLY family.  Everything that is theirs is hers.  Every privilege, every blessing, every part of what it means to be in their family is hers to the fullest.  And I suspect that as Cates grows older, she will understand even more of just how perfect a picture her life is of what God has done for her, for me, and for anyone who receives His invitation to come.

My wife and I are currently reading through “Choosing To See” by Mary Beth Chapman.  She is the wife of the well-known and loved Steven Curtis Chapman, the Christian music artist.  I’ve been a huge fan of his music ever since my youth and it’s awesome to read the story “behind the music” and what was going on at home while I enjoyed tune after tune of his.  Let me pause here and urge you to purchase this book and read it.  What…a…blessing.

The other day Merritt and I were sitting at the kitchen table, reading another chapter aloud to each other.  It was my turn to read and I was reading the story of when Steven Curtis, Mary Beth, and their 3 biological children traveled to China and first met and held their first adopted daughter, Shaohannah.  I read the details of the unfathomable love and instant transformation that came over Mary Beth in the simple act of taking into her arms this precious child, now HERS.  I was just overcome with emotion as I read Mary Beth’s new connection in her spirit as she understood in a new and profound way just how God looks at her.  And even as a parent who has not adopted, I can look at my own kids and get a taste for the incomprehensible love of God for me and for you and for all.  There I was, sitting at my kitchen table with tears rolling down my cheeks at the mind-blowing love of the Father for me.

What have I in the world to say to God but “Yes!” and “I’m all yours!” and “Take me into your family!” and “I don’t know why you want me, but I’m so glad you do!” Just like at that lunch table with my family, I can imagine an angel in heaven asking God the Father, “Hey God, is Jerry adopted?”  And with a smile God replies, “Yes.  Yes he is.”

I’ve been tasked by my wife to plan my own funeral.  Its not that she’s planning on me kickin’ off any time soon, its that she’s incredibly afraid that I actually will (before she does) and that she’ll be in no condition to make any decisions.  Fair enough, right?

Well, death is something I’m actually looking forward to.  I regularly think as days go by, that I’m one day closer to death.  And if you know me, I’d hope that you’d agree I’m anything but morbid.  The truth is, I’m looking forward to it.  Not the process of dying mind you, just the event itself; the moment when I pass from one location to another.  The short trip begins and ends in the time it’ll take my last breath to leave my lungs.

Now, back to my funeral.  First of all, you’re invited.  All I ask is that you laugh more than cry.  And I plan on making sure that’ll happen.  In fact, it’d be really great if your guts hurt by the time you left.  Go ahead, laugh it up.  I sure will be!  Also, if you plan on hanging around, pick up a bucket at KFC on your way.  I figure if everybody brings a little, we’ll have a lot.  Not to mention, who doesn’t want to be around someone with a bucket of chicken?  You’ll probably make some new friends–MY friends, so you better treat them well.

The music at my funeral will consist of sing-along tunes so you can, uh, sing along.  Some of my favorite top-of-my-lungs-alone-in-the-car tunes include classics like “Living on a Prayer”, “The Piano Man”, and whatever the name of that song is by Four Non-Blondes–you know the one where she sings “And I scream to the top of my lungs, ‘What’s going on!?!'”  You know that one.  And I’ll probably throw in a Christmas tune no matter what time of year it is because after all, who doesn’t like Christmas (I mean, besides Jews and atheists)?  I will not however be having karaoke.  That’s just tacky.

Now, who do I want to give the message?  I don’t know.  I honestly don’t know.  No one knows me like my wife does and I can bet my last life insurance dollar that she’s not getting up and saying jack squat, you can take that to the bank.  So, I’ll have to think about it.  If you’d like to apply for the position, email me an essay in 1,000 words or less why you’d do a good eulogy.  Oh wait, I just remembered Rob.  Rob has probably read my blog as much as my Mom.  Maybe more (sorry Mom).  And he always says really nice things about it.  So, I think Rob is definitely a front-runner at this point.  You’re welcome, Rob.

Okay, so we’ve covered food (don’t forget the bucket), we’ve got music taken care of, and I’ve given Rob the preliminary head-nod on the whole eulogy thing.  What else is left?  Oh yeah, the dancers.  Can somebody make sure there are back-up dancers?  And not fresh-out-of-dance-school dancers.  I want good ones.  Preferably 50 and older.  Seasoned veterans.

Well, that just about covers it.  I hope you’ll come and enjoy looking at my smiling face (don’t worry, I’ll be smiling) one last time.  I hope you have a great time at my funeral, and I hope that reading this has made you think about yours.

Don’t forget that bucket of chicken.  Thanks.