Fresh Start(s)

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We all have situations, relationships, or even seasons of time of our lives that we’d go back and do differently, if we could. Think about what situation or season that might be for you.

What is it about that situation that you look back on critically that would cause you to question how you handled it? Was it the outcome? Was it your attitude throughout? Is it that you now know things that you didn’t know then and therefore couldn’t act on? Was it something else altogether?

As a follower of Jesus and a pastor to boot, I am pretty consistently haunted (that word sounds ghoulish or negative, but stick with me while I hash it out) by the question: Is what/who the Church is today consistent with the desire of God’s heart for those who represent Him on earth?

I can almost hear you from here. I believe that we would collectively release a resounding “No.” as the Church universal. We all know that who we are and what we’re doing and the silly ways we can get sidetracked, making some non-essentials into the hill(s) we die on–well, it’s embarrassing.

So here at this moment in the history of the Church, we desire to and will, with God’s guidance and power, usher in a new start. And this new start will leave no thing untouched and unaffected, except for the Gospel itself. We step forward with no grip on what was in terms of tradition, preconceptions, personal preferences, or rhythms that at one point started with fervor yet have deteriorated into rote and nearly meaningless religion or even religious monotony.

The prophet Isaiah spoke these words that I fear apply to far too many church-goers: “These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.
Their worship of me is based on merely human rules they have been taught.” (29:13)

For those who don’t know, just this month I have officially started a new pastoral role at the local church I have served at for over twenty years. Along with being Pastor to Young Adults, I am now also Director of Discipleship. You better believe that the question “Are we even making disciples at all?” is at the top of the long list of questions that I’m asking in this new role.

Lest you think that question is too dire or drips with doubt, let me assure you that the question is exactly as it should be: teetering on the edge of being an indictment. Unless we ask this question as the Church, we are in full danger of neglecting and failing at literally the ONE THING Jesus told us to be about before He ascended into heaven where He, like us, awaits His return.

Just as this question must be asked on a wide-spread level, it must also be asked on the personal level. There will be no greater anguish than for us to reach the end of our time and realize that we completely missed the point. Regardless of the pain involved, we must face the question. I’m doing that in my local ministry context as a pastor, and I’m also doing it in my own heart as a person.

Here’s the rub: Have you ever played “the floor is lava”? It’s a childhood game (there’s actually a television game show for adults based on the same premise) wherein as long as you’re up off the floor, you’re safe. But let one little pinky toe touch the ground, and you’re burned up and out of the game.

In a way, we are all playing this game spiritually. We’re locked in and fearful of moving freely because we have grown so accustomed to what has been that what could be seems more terrifying than exhilarating.

But what would a fresh start in your spiritual walk with Jesus look like? What would cracking open and discarding the shell of religious activity look like? What would introducing zeal and fervor look like? What would a life set ablaze with the power of the Holy Spirit look like? What does a neglect of all silly and shallow distractions in favor of a full-bodied, full-life surrender and pursuit of Kingdom purposes look like? What does a day-to-day existence that embraces and insists on making disciples look like? What does it look like to consider your vocation and career not the point of it all, but the fuel and context in which God is calling you to make more disciples?

God helping me as a person and as a pastor, and God helping us as a local church and as the Church universal, there is a fresh start emerging. We are putting away those stale traditions that have eased us into ambivalence toward the Mission, and we are welcoming God’s refining gaze to guide us into the new approach to disciple-making that our world today calls for.

A Kingdom of Questions

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Read the gospels. Jesus asked far more questions than He provided answers. The critical role questions play in our faith development and in the discipleship and disciple-making path, cannot be overstated.

I’ve been a pastor to teenagers and young people for over three decades. I have always (and will always) seek to cultivate an environment where questions are celebrated rather than suppressed. The cancer that eats away at young faith in a young person’s life is not doubt, but the absence of any genuine place to process those doubts. Church, shame on us if we do not allow, invite, and encourage the hard questions being asked.

It is a distinctly American thing for us to uphold a facade that would portray us as well-answered, put-together people; even followers of Jesus do this. Perhaps unwittingly, this desire to be seen as stable in faith causes the erosion of an atmosphere where questions are explored.

In essence, we’ve hung a “Closed” sign on the laboratory door.

How now do we reverse this reality?

First, we confess what should be obvious. That not one of us–from pauper to Pope–has every answer to every question of faith, God, spirituality, the Bible, or how to live the gospel effectively and redemptively.

And that confession should cultivate humility. Even while there are those with understandings and experiences that afford them the role of sherpa in others’ lives, there still remains a deep humility that drives every person to the posture of a student. This mindset reflects the expression we get from theologian Gerhardus Vos: that we do live in an “already and not yet” reality of God’s Kingdom.

Next step, we articulate the gut-level questions we have. Yours will be different than mine. And when we do that, we reject pithy, theoretical responses that try to put a bandaid over a gaping hole. “What kind of a God would watch a 22-month-old toddler get out a backdoor of their caretaker’s home unnoticed, make their way across several neighbors’ yards, and then watch them fall into a small decorative yard pond and drown?” That’s just ONE of my questions.

Write down every question about pain, faith, God’s character, scripture, heaven, hell, doubt–anything your heart is holding onto.

Lastly, utilize that list of questions (as ever-expanding as it may be) into your personal map toward growth. Seek. Explore. Ask. Wonder. Take the next hill. Cultivate a heart that embraces “I don’t know” just as readily as it embraces “I am convinced.”

Early in Jesus’ public ministry He began to call disciples to follow Him. This caught the attention of a couple of John’s disciples who would-be followers of Jesus. But first a couple questions needed to be exchanged…

Jesus (seeing them following): “What do you want?”

Two disciples (one of them was Andrew): “Where are you staying?”

If you’ll notice, every relationship begins with questions. The fallacy is that healthy relationships don’t have or need questions. That somehow we no longer have need for wonder or exploration once we know someone. I’d submit to you that the opposite is actually true. The more you know someone, the more we should: 1) rest in confidence of knowing and being known and 2) seek to know more because that confidence creates a safe place where more questions are welcomed.

In its correct form, the Kingdom of God is a Kingdom of questions. Taking a posture of a student hungry to learn, grow, and change more into the image of their first love and Master will also transform our view on worship, including how we gather together. Can you even imagine what it would look like this coming Sunday morning if everyone who was present was a true explorer, an excited participant in their own faith journey, and truly reveling in the wonder of a God who can be known now and yet not fully known?

I have used this analogy before, so forgive me if it’s a repeat for you long-time readers. I view myself as standing on a beach, my feet in the water as the waves lap up on the shore. I’ve got a ladle in my hand, and I’m sipping from it. I understand and am fully okay with the fact that all my life, I will never drink that whole ladle. And I’m at peace knowing there is an ocean of water in front of me that won’t ever be touched by that ladle.

This is how I view my questions and my doubts. I will continue to sip, seek, ask, wonder, and explore. Yet I know that I can’t know the expanse of all of who God is. One of my favorite verses in terms of this peaceful pursuit is Romans 11:33:

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how unfathomable his ways!” (New English Translation)

Why Church, why have we allowed ourselves to become tidy, buttoned-up, satisfied recipients of the only life-altering truth and yet stopped there? Why have we turned into guardians of truth and not champions of exploration? A young generation is under the impression that there is little to no place for questions in a life of faith. Let’s reverse this as soon as possible.

After all, the words “question” and “quest” share the same Latin root: quaerere. Both mean “to ask/seek.” In other words, every question invites us on a quest. So take those questions, grab the map they create, and move forward in a faith that celebrates question marks as much as exclamation points!

No, Follow ME.

/ jerrythinks / 1 Comment

By the time I was a teenager, I had learned that my human tendency is steeply inclined toward selfishness. Any given decision that was being made was generally decided by asking a simple question: “What’s best for me in this situation?”

Living by this criterion of what was best for me turned out to be–and I don’t say this lightly–the very worst way to live a life. A subsequent truth I’ve learned is that my two shoulders were never meant to bear the load of my own life, my own desires, my own priorities, or my own prerogatives. In other words, I was never meant to be the center of my own life. And neither were you. It’s not surprising, however, that so many people try and make that kind of life work. We try and establish ourselves as the centerpiece, then seek to orient all other details, assets, career decisions, and relationships in a tidy orbit around us. It’s so very common, but just as commonly ill-fated.

I got off-center in June of 1991 at the age of 17. After a disastrously tumultuous season of making absolutely terrible decisions and proving without question that when I’m in charge things go very badly, I was found by Jesus in a field in Altoona, PA. I was shattered and broken in every way when Jesus laid his hand on my shoulder and invited me to be made new and to begin to walk with Him. Essentially His simple invitation was an echo of the invitation He gave to so many people 2,000 or so years ago and has given to millions upon millions since: “Follow me.” And I did. I stood up in that field, and took my first steps of true faith, going for a walk that I’m still on today.

For the past 35 years, I’ve been on a walk with Jesus. That’s probably the best way to describe my life. But I want to tell you about a pitfall that I’ve discovered on this walk I’ve been on. It’s actually something I’d be embarrassed to confess this to you if I had any pride left. But I’ve already told you enough about myself to easily shake off that nonsense. I won’t let pride stop me from sharing something with you that might be helpful, even if it makes me look foolish.

There have been times when I have taken the “Follow me” invitation of Jesus and turned it on Him. There have been times when I’ve allowed my distracted heart or what amounted to a relapse into self-centeredness to actually cause me to turn to Jesus and say, “No, YOU follow ME.”

It happens subtly. In fact, it can happen most easily when I don’t intentionally and aggressively recognize Jesus’ Lordship in my life. When Jesus’ Lordship goes unrecognized, it goes unlived. And guess who is the only other possible throne dweller? Me. So when I don’t actively and daily respond to Jesus’ invitation to follow Him, then I, almost by default, am inviting Him to follow me.

I’m not a numbers guy, but I do think it’s interesting that in the recorded gospels, Jesus uttered the words “Follow me” 21 times. And if you know anything about human habits, you’ve likely heard that it is around the 21-day mark that a behavior starts to become a habit. So let me make a suggestion that might seem silly. For the next 21 days, make a statement out loud (as in actually speak it) to Jesus that “I’m following YOU today.” Or feel free to tweak or modify that statement; anything that allows your heart to acknowledge who’s leading and who’s following.

As you go through those 21 days, reach out to me and let me know what you notice about yourself, about Jesus, and about your daily life of following Him.

———————————————————————————————–

BONUS:

On January 5, 2025, the good folks at Southside Church are receiving a 21-day devotional book I’ve written called “Rock Solid Living.” I’d love for you to join in with us, and if you don’t have a church home, I’d love to meet you there each week. I’ve never tried to connect my personal blog to any local church, let alone the one I happen to serve at, but today’s blog post seems like a good opportunity to extend that invitation.

BONUS BONUS:

This audio recording is a time machine of sorts. This is the actual recording of the message I heard in that field in Altoona, PA in 1991. It was at the end of this message that I responded and truly accepted Jesus’ invitation to “Follow me.”

By the numbers….when Creation Festival came to a close in 2023…

115,000 people chose to follow Christ as their Savior. 

 16,000+ people have been water baptized at the festival. 

 2.1 million have attended and worshiped our Creator together. 

 43,000 people have served the festival, many for a decade or more. 

 43,000+ children have been rescued from poverty through Compassion International and other child sponsorship programs.

Snowing Sideways

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I was sitting in the passenger seat while my wife took a turn driving on our trek to Ohio just a few days ago. We were headed there to celebrate with our son-in-law as he graduated from firefighter academy. As we drove, I looked out my passenger door window at the beautiful snow that was falling. It was the perfect kind of snow at this moment; it was falling steadily but making no difference to the condition of the roads. All it was doing was blanketing the surrounding world in white.

But traveling at highway speeds, the snow was falling sideways. When you’re moving 70 to 80 miles an hour in a vehicle while the snow falls, that snow doesn’t fall straight down. It falls sideways.

Or so it seems.

As I, with a little effort, looked and could see past the nearest snowfall, I could see the snow in the distance. I could see the snow that was far enough away from our car that it was actually simply falling. Not sideways. Just beautifully straight down, as snow does.

Then a thought occurred to me. Let me tell you about it.

As we flew down that highway, I could’ve sworn the snow was falling sideways. But it wasn’t. It’s that our speed made it seem that way. When I could get my eyes past what seemed to be my immediate reality and onto the true reality, I could see that I had a choice to make. Hang on, this is where it gets practical… I hope.

You and I often cannot control the speed at which life happens. But this doesn’t mean we can’t control anything. I don’t believe in victims. That’s not to say that I don’t think people are victimized by others, I just mean that I don’t believe that anyone is truly a complete victim to that person or situation. We all always have power that must be spoken to the speed at which our lives are moving.

In simpler terms, we cannot control life’s speed, but we can control our perspective and our focus, even as life seems to whiz by. And we must.

I’ve heard many people over the years lament about how chaotically frenzied their lives had become. And while I don’t doubt for a second that life really can feel like it’s spinning out of control, I do doubt that we can ever claim total innocence in that. Typically, you have a hand–a strong hand–at just how fast the snow seems to be falling sideways in your life.

Because there does exist a snowfall that is far more peaceful. You may not have the choice right now to stand in it practically, but you most certainly can stand in it mentally and by engaging a different perspective than the hurried world around you.

So the next time you’re driving, and snow is falling, and you’re tempted to pretend you’re Han Solo piloting the Millenium Falcon through warp speed (iykyk), remember that while it might appear that the speed of life is uncontrollable, the speed of your heart and mind most assuredly are. The focus of your priorities is fully yours to control. The degree to which you fret over life’s details is firmly within your grasp alone. Just look beyond the immediate sideways snow and realize that just in the near distance, inviting you there, is a snowfall that is quiet, tranquil, and available.

P.S. Just a quick shoutout to all first responders out there. We had a wonderful time celebrating our son-in-law’s graduation. Just yesterday, he completed his first shift as a professional firefighter. We couldn’t be more proud of him, and we’re so grateful to all who serve our communities with selflessness.

Why I’m Choosing Love

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If you know me, you know I’m a man in love. Deeply. In. Love.

My wife is, quite simply, the perfect human being for me. I’m convinced that God custom-made this woman to fill in and complement every one of my shortcomings–and there are many. I’m completely and forever in love with her. If you know her, you see clearly that we are a matched set.

Lest you think I’m about to droll on and on, dripping with sap about how much I love my wife, I promise you I am not. I actually want to turn my attention to Jesus, and Him alone. And I invite you to hear the expressions of my thoughts and heart for the man I call my best friend, my Savior, my heart’s affection, and the One I choose to follow/walk with. But before I do, I believe the greatest quality my wife has is that she would absolutely want me to tell you that it’s Jesus who makes our marriage work. He’s it.

But first a quick diversion. My life revolves around ministering with young people. Ever since I was a young person myself, I have known that my life would be aimed at the young generation, and loving them well, showing them Jesus, and being available for them for…well…whatever.

Living rooms, hospital rooms, waiting rooms, courtrooms, backs of squad cars, funerals, jail cells…I’ve been everywhere seeking to love young people well.

In all honesty, I have nothing to offer any young person but Jesus. He is it. I don’t have life hacks, deep wisdom, tricks to help smooth out life’s road, or anything else. I only have and I only offer Jesus.

So you can perhaps imagine my surprise and concern when I recently found that some young people I interact with struggled to articulate much at all about who Jesus is and why they, too, love Him.

Seems like for someone who is in the context of a thriving spiritual community, such a thing should flow naturally. But it seems there’s work to do in this area. Yet, I cannot expect anything from them that I am not able and willing to do myself. So, this blog is about exercising the discipline of articulation. I’m going to articulate to you why I choose to love and more specifically, who I know Jesus to be and why I am now and–God helping me–will for all my days fix my gaze on Jesus.

If anyone from my high school days ever reads these words, I must apologize to you. I did not live as I should have lived in those days. I did not express my faith well; it was there, but it was not on display as it should have been. I hope you’ll forgive me for that. I should have been clearer. This isn’t about my upbringing as a “PK” (pastor’s kid), it isn’t about church attendance, and it isn’t about “religion.” I put no stock in any of those things.

This is about the person of Jesus: who He has been from the beginning, who He revealed Himself to be in the gospel accounts we all have access to, and who He is to me personally right now on a daily basis.

I want to do my best to paint a picture for you. I trust that then you’ll clearly see why I choose to love Him.

You can read other blog posts of mine that go into the granular details of my upbringing and my faith story. There are lots of details you can find in other writings I’ve already posted. So I won’t repeat myself in that regard.

Jesus is the fullness of God, who chose to be constrained to a human frame. God chose to become flesh in order to communicate the greatest love for humanity (that’s all of us) that He possibly could. Jesus came to us because we could never get to Him. The mission of Jesus from the very start has been to come and get us. To rescue us. To redeem us. To adopt us. To draw us back to Him, as He has desired all along.

The person of Jesus is the image of a God who would stop at nothing to have us in a loving relationship with Himself. I love Jesus because He is God, but also because He is a walking, talking, sharing, healing, and reviving God. I live and breathe at this moment because of the presence of God. This is not a poetic or romantic statement, though it is that as well. It is a statement of fact. My conviction is that I am alive because God has desired it. I am breathing and functioning because of His good grace. My whole self is wrapped up in Jesus because Jesus has shown Himself to be the author and sustainer of all I am and all I have.

Going deeper, this God has come to me personally. In the depths of my sin, He came to me in this relentless pursuit that was fueled by His love for me. Though I disregarded His love and chose to live selfishly, still He came for me and came after Me. He found me in my self-inflicted mess and invited me to be whole, to be healed, and to be changed day by day as I walk with Him. I have found no other solid ground to stand on because every other thought and belief system would be based on what I can do, and I confess that I can do nothing good on my own. If you are reading these words and you believe you are fine on your own and do not need Him, then know that while He loves you with an everlasting love, His love also gives each person their own decision to embrace Him or go on without Him. But as for me, I choose Jesus. He looked for me, He found me, He healed me (still is), He transformed me (still is), He adopted me, and He is patient with me.

I talk with Jesus. In this talking, our relationship grows stronger. That’s how relationships work. If you want to grow closer to someone, you talk to them, and you listen to them. I have become convinced that it is this ongoing conversation that gives me a healthy perspective on all other aspects of my life. Likewise, when our conversation wanes, all other aspects of my life begin to become misprioritized and mishandled. Simply put, my conversation with Jesus sets all other things in their proper place.

I choose to love Jesus not because I was given some insider information by virtue of being brought up in a Christian (let alone as a pastor’s) home. It’s not because I went to enough bible studies and learned enough information. It’s not because of some unfair advantage life handed me. No. None of that. I choose to love Jesus because He first loved me. He proved that love by painfully accepting the death that my own sin demanded. He took on my death in my place. What greater love exists than that?

I know Jesus as a friend because He continually shows me more of who He is. I enjoy a familiarity with Jesus because we have walked together for so long, but along with that comfort, there is equal part wonder and curiosity that is built into our friendship. I know that I’ll never know the depths of who Jesus is, and I revel in that mystery. I love Jesus because there is no end to what I can know of Him.

Jesus is the very embodiment of the love of God. I am drawn to belief in Him, to friendship with Him, and to journeying life’s road following Him. I honestly believe that apart from Jesus I could do and would be nothing. Again, if you are living a fine life apart from Him and believe that you are able to continue that, by all means go ahead. As for me, I’m a broken and helpless sinner in desperate need of a Savior. He is the Savior of my world. I know that for me, I am prone to decisions that are selfish and destructive. I need someone greater and higher to be Lord of my life. He is my Lord and He has given me wisdom, peace, and direction. He has saved me from devastating decisions time and again. Left to myself, I’d drive this life into a ditch or off a cliff. With Jesus in control, I have nothing to fear. With Jesus my Lord guiding me, I am free from all anxiety. That’s why I trust Him. That’s why I love Him.

What I want for you is that you would know Him, too. In fact, I’d love nothing more than for you to know Him even more than I do. Whether you or anyone else (and I know millions do) choose to love Him, I simply cannot turn away from Him. I’m far too convinced of His presence, His goodness, His faithfulness, and His grace. This is who Jesus is to me and this is why I choose to love Him.

In the Desert

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You already know that I learned of Jesus’ love for me and His offer of forgiveness for my sins when I was just eight years old. And you likely know that I would say that despite my age-eight acceptance of His forgiveness, I’d say that I didn’t begin to walk with Him until I was sixteen. Someone may wonder, “What’s the difference?” and I suppose I’d put it this way:

When I say I learned of (and received) Jesus’ forgiveness, I mean that it was a transactional decision. And when I say I began to walk with Jesus, I mean that it was a relational decision.

I wonder if you’ve made that relational decision yet. I pray you have. Not because I’m a pastor or a church-goer or because you think I’m “religious.” I actually don’t put one ounce of value in any of those things. What I want for you is to know the transformational love of the God who created you, knows you, and wants you. Now, let me say more to the point what I mean. I want you to have solid ground to stand on. Apart from Jesus, solid ground doesn’t exist. In Him, you will have peace when the world feels unstable (when does it not?), joy even in times of turmoil or tragedy, hope in the face of the uncertain future, and an abundance of love given directly from God Himself for you, but not just for you–so that it might overflow* through your life to those around you. Inexpressible joy, unwavering peace, boundless hope, and unending love. THAT’S what I want for you, and only Jesus has it because only Jesus IS all those things.

So, do the math. I’m currently fifty-one years old *gulp*, and I started walking with Jesus at age sixteen. Let’s see, that means I’ve walked with him….give me a minute….for thirty-five years.

In those thirty-five years, I can tell you that a large portion of that time has been spent in what some might call a desert land. In my younger understanding of spirituality and my grasp of what it means to walk with Jesus, I would have told you that desert = bad. I mean, deserts are dry, lifeless, exhausting, and there just isn’t much attractive about being in a desert. We’ve all seen some movie where some poor guy is dragging himself on his belly through the desert, breathing this gasping desire… “Water….please…water…”

It’s even found its way into our language as Jesus’ followers. When we share with others about how we are doing spiritually, we use words like “desert”, “stale”, “dry”, and it all means that our spiritual lives are kind of waning; that we aren’t really where we want to be. It’s a season we’re trying to simply survive.

But there’s a scriptural reality that I fear we have not only overlooked but negated in our modern view of desert seasons. I submit to you that not only did Jesus love the desert, and longed for the desert, but practically speaking, the deepest, richest ministry happens in the desert.

What must happen is that we view those “desert” seasons of our lives as seasons of strengthening, intimacy, and preparation. Yet we commonly see them as weakening, distancing, and purposeless.

Look with me at the gospels. Let’s go with Mark, whose gospel account was actually written first. I personally love Mark because he’s just interested in the action of Jesus’ life. His writing focuses far less on the words of Jesus and more on the ways of Jesus. At the start of his account, Mark tells about how John was in the “wilderness” preaching the message of the Kingdom, and that Jesus came out to John to be baptized.

Did you get that? Blink, and you’ll miss it: Jesus went out to the desert to be baptized. God the Father’s public declaration of Jesus’ identity and His public ministry began in the desert. In fact, it’s the only place in scripture where the Trinity is manifest in a publicly perceptible way: The Father’s voice audibly heard from heaven, the Son standing in the river, and the Spirit descending like a dove. What if, instead of lamenting the desert times in our lives, we chose to view them as where new things start?

Not convinced? Look at what happened IMMEDIATELY after Jesus was baptized by John in the Jordan River…. This time let’s look at Matthew’s gospel account…. “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness…” (Matt. 4:1)

What?!? God the Spirit led God the Son into the desert in preparation for the ministry that would ultimately glorify God the Father? Yep. That’s EXACTLY what happened.

So when you find yourself tempted to think that your spiritual desert place is a place of lifelessness, purposelessness, or directionlessness, understand that the desert is where God BEGINS the work. It’s where God PREPARES us for the new chapter. It’s where God PROVES His nearness and faithfulness.

As part of my grad school journey, I read a book by Henri Nouwen called “The Way of the Heart” and it speaks deeply to this whole idea of how we view the desert. I recommend it to you highly. You can order your own copy here.

It is at this point that my heart wants to hit the gas pedal and pour out more content, sharing more of my thoughts about this topic. But my mind says, “Stop here. That’s enough. You want people to read this, right?”

So here I’ll stop and turn to you. What are your thoughts on this? What are your desert-place experiences? Does anything here resonate with you, or prove helpful?

*A couple of years ago, I co-authored a devotional book called “Overflow”. If you’d like a copy of that 52-week devotional book, please reach out and let me know. I’d be happy to send you one of the few copies I have left.

How To Be

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It’s human nature, I’d suppose, to become more introspective as you get older. An infant/toddler is completely unaware of most everything except what’s in their hand or mouth. A teenager is consumed by the influencing input of the world around them and finding their place in all of it. A young(er) adult is looking for meaning and purpose not so much because of some innate understanding but because the message has been that there’s a purpose to be found. And the old(er) adult has more in the rearview than through the windshield, so they spend more time taking stock of what it all has meant and the ways it has shaped them.

This is over-generalized, I’m sure, but the truth is in there, nonetheless.

Within the past several weeks, I’ve witnessed the passing of someone very young, at the very start of their adult life, and someone at the very end of their long, rich, and storied life. Solomon tells us in Ecclesiastes that we should spend more time at funerals than at parties, because everyone dies, so the living should take it to heart. (Ecc. 7:2)

In other words, it’s more important to know that time is limited than it is to know what time it is. Thinking about how much time is left is futile and wasteful. Being mindful that time is a mere construct in which we gather stories and experiences and impact those we intersect with–that’s the better route.

So how? How do we?

While the passage of time affords most people the ability to zoom out, look back, and take stock there has got to be a shortcut to offer to those who statistically have more ahead than behind. And that’s what I’m after in writing these words.

First, I suggest to you that the metrics the world uses to measure worth are diabolically unhealthy. The heart of it is getting. Get the look. Get the girl. Get the guy. Get the job. Get the money. Get the gains. Get the grade. Get the client. Get the followers. Get the story. Get the experience. Get the house. Get the car. Get the spouse. Get the kids. Get the lake home. Get the stock options. Get the comfort. Get the bigger piece of the pie. Get first.

It’s no wonder we’re exhausted, stressed, cutthroat, suspicious of others, and overworked to name a few.

So, how DO we be? Someone once said it’s no accident that we’re called human beings, not human doings. We are hardwired for relational existence, and when that aspect is absent, dysfunctional, or in any way out of whack, so are we.

What if it were possible to early on introduce the discipline of relational pulse-checking as a way of calibrating one’s compass? This most certainly could happen accidentally, but could we teach the skill of gauging relational health and making adjustments to those findings in a way that is akin to aligning the steering on one’s car?

Could the young brain steering that young life engage in such a disciplinary exercise? Let’s suppose it could.

What might happen is this…

  1. A person could be relieved of finding that life has mostly passed them by before they notice and try to compensate for opportunities that were lost while they were distracted by lesser pursuits.
  2. A person could embrace an entirely different metric than pop culture embraces. They could be released from the “Get” metric. I’d bet that nothing but good can come from such a release.
  3. A person could experience a far deeper wealth of purpose-infused relational living. That person could walk life’s path not seeing others as obstacles but as opportunities for growth and service.

Structure and strategy in order to accomplish personal goals are noble and good and right. But I’d suggest that structure and strategy in order to attain a life that is better focused on relational depth, experiences that enrich others’ lives, and that is centered on giving over getting is the far better path.

This is an unfinished blog post. It’s barely the beginning of a germinated thought. So please add to it. Share with me–regardless of your age–your thoughts on how we gauge things like worth, direction, relationships, and how to know if our lives are where we desire them to be or not.