My tummy hurts...

My wife and I have a pretty sweet set-up… We work in the same office, it’s only 1.5 BLOCKS away from our house, and our boss is the pretty much the best boss either of us have ever had.  I work the early shift, walk home, “tag up” with Jasmine and she works until the office closes.  That leaves me to get the kids fed, bathed, and off to bed most nights solo.  Not a big deal.  Sure I’m tired, would rather lounge on the couch and watch re-runs of Shark Week, but honestly some of the greatest joys come during those “daddy times”.  Last night, wasn’t one of them. 

Most parents familiar with this particular parenting situation know the importance of keeping the kids occupied while preparing dinner.  My approach last night was the use of the Play-Doh Fun Factory.  I thought I had successfully left my children unattended with a seemingly innocuous pastime, only to return to screaming, fighting and the biggest mess I think they have made to date.  Not what I wanted to deal with at 6:30 with a kitchen full of smoke, and a chicken that still wasn’t cooked through after 1.5 hours in an oven that was set way too high (thanks random internet recipe).  I kind of lost it for a second and sent both of the kids running to their room for a long time out while I picked up the millions of microscopic grains of Play-Doh scattered about the table and living room floor.  Again, not one of my finer moments.  After an apology on my part and a few hugs I plated their dinner and they sat down to eat, victory? Oh, no.  My son informs me, after eating for only two minutes, that he has a tummy ache from the “broc-a-di” (broccoli).  I asked if he felt sick and he of course answered "yes" (the surest way to get what he wanted, not eat more broccoli).  I then asked if he wanted to lie down and rest and he said, “No, I want to play with the Play-Doh again”.  

“If your tummy hurts you should rest.”

“It’s okay now.”

“Good, you can eat more dinner then.”

“Um… Play-Doh?”

"No!"

I was then called a “mean bully” because I didn’t let him do what he wanted to do.  Told I was not his friend because I won’t play with him and treated to a chorus of screaming and rhythmic stomping down the hallway.  Apparently the logic that I am “daddy” and know what’s best for him doesn’t register yet, and won’t until he’s 25. Sound familiar to anyone?  

Our "Bible in a year" plan has us 3/4 the way through Exodus now and at the oh so thrilling specifications for the Tabernacle part.  Just before we get to cubits of curtains, and red, and blue fine twined linens, we read about the sealing of the covenant.  God informs His people of the requirements He has for them.  Rules for eating, living, social justice, legal matters.  God knows whats best for the people of Israel.  After all that God has done for them them, the people agree, and pledge to follow God's rules.  End of story...  No, only the second book of a much longer story.  The story of a people who think they know what's best and try just about anything to have it their way.  The story of failure, regret, loss and misery.  Also, thankfully, the story of a God whose patience is never exhausted.  A God whose grace and love have overcome everything, even our own stubbornness.  

Can I even hope to be like God to my kids?  No.  Can I pray that He gives me supernatural patience and love for these two crazy kids that I cherish more than anything? I do. Everyday.  But I also realize that I am that little kid who doesn't want to eat his broc-a-di.  Who thinks he knows what's best for himself.  I would rather play with my Play-Doh than do what I supposed to do, what I'm meant to do.  That being said, Jasmine and I are exploring the possibility of going back into ministry.  Doing the thing that we both felt so strongly about years ago.  I'm not sure what happened, maybe lie got in the way, or Moses was gone on the mountain too long, but somewhere along the line we lost sight of what once was so clear.  I invite you to pray with us as we being down that road again.  Let us know how we can pray for you.

Where's my dreamcoat?

Jasmine and I are reading through the Bible in a year and Jan 17th took us to the end of Genesis. After seemingly endless chapters of genealogies and people "begetting" other people, we finally have come to the end of the first book of the Bible.  I'm not sure where you are today. It's Friday and many of us have the weekend ahead, even a three day weekend. However, the break from work doesn't always mean a break from responsibility, a break from life. For many of us work is our escape, our way to distract ourselves from the numerous aspects of life that are out of our control. In Gen 50 we find Joseph looking back on the events of his life and showing tremendous grace to his brothers in light of what they did. 50:20: "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives."
 Looking back on the story of his life, we could say that Joseph kept his mind off his own suffering by consuming himself with his work.  Here is a guy that was sold by his family into slavery, falsely imprisoned, and left in jail because the cup bearer was too self absorbed to remember the guy who gave him hope, yet through his whole story we never read that Joseph felt sorry for himself, or that he was depressed and questioning why these terrible things keep happening.  I don't think it's because it never happened, but because it isn't the focus of the story.  Feeling sorry for himself and saying "Woe is me" isn't the point.  Joseph's story is about persevering, it is about serving God and doing what needs to be done regardless of what we may be dealing with.  It is a story of believing that God is working in even the darkest moments of our lives.  
Some times it does come across a bit cliche, or even thoughtless, but it is true: things are not always what they seem, no matter how deep or dark the place is that we find ourselves. When we are hurting or struggling in life we don't want to hear "It could be worse" or "God has a plan". We want to hurt and we want people to hurt with us so that we don't feel so alone. But when we are ready to pick ourselves up, or be picked up which is often the case, these words of Joseph will hopefully resonate in our souls. God is working. We are not alone, He is right there with us.

We all fall down.

I fell this past weekend… 5 steps into my morning run I took my eyes off the path to adjust my new armband/phone thing I got for Christmas, and subsequently missed the uplifted square in the sidewalk.  The same square I look at every time I run; the same one that always prompts me to say “Gotta watch out for that one.”  I caught my toe and down I went.  I managed to stop my fall with my hands , but in doing so I scrapped the palm off one of my gloves and well the palm off my palm.  As I’ve gotten older I’ve been more cautious, less prone to taking chances.  It’s been a while since I’ve had anything like this happen and boy did it hurt.  Those of you who have had the pleasure of injuring your slightly older selves probably know what I’m talking about.  It’s not just the injury itself, it’s the after effects.  The sore muscles from guarding, the wrist from taking the brunt of the impact, the shoulder from twisting funny, the upper back… you get the idea.  It’s not just my hand that hurts, everything hurts.  The fact that the whole body is connected is never more apparent than when one part isn’t working quite right, or is outright broken. 

Scriptures tell us that Paul was no stranger to physical affliction.  I’m sure he had his own sufferings in mind when he wrote his letter to the Corinthians.  “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it”.  This is as true of the physical body as it is of the spiritual body.  We hurt when loved ones hurt.  If our community suffers we suffer along with it.  This reality was made all too real this last December.  As a nation we grieved with the families of Sandy Hook.  Just as there are many approaches to healing a physical injury, we each dealt with the tragedy of Newtown in our own way.  Some good, some admittedly, not so great.  One thing we all must agree with: just as we cannot cut off an injured body part (although we might wish we could) we can’t simply cut each other off just because that part of the body “heals” in a different way.  

I work in a physical therapy office and I see patients everyday with varying levels of injury.  Some may never make it back to where they were before their injury and others can be expected to make a full recovery.  Both groups have at least one thing in common: it’s going to take a lot of hard work from all parts of the body if anything is going to get better.  But for everyone: we want to be stronger to hopefully prevent re-injury, and if possible, maybe a little smarter.  You can bet that square of concrete will not get the best of me a second time.