She’s the one. She’s the only one. There won’t be another. She’s it. I won…I found her. There won’t ever be another person who will ever have this place in me. She’s the one. She is the only person who has ever deserved the words…she is the only one to ever hear them. They sound so simple but the truth is that they are deeper than a lifetime will ever allow me to explore. What are they you ask? It’s the words…I love you.

Sometime during my high school years I made a decision. After hearing so many of my classmates casually throw the phrase “I love you” around, I decided I was going to try and do something different. I couldn’t understand how someone could profess undying love to someone,  yet by time lunch rolled around there was already trouble in paradise, and by school’s end the love affair was over. It seemed to me that telling someone you loved them had to mean something more. There had to be more to love than mutual attraction.

With my theory in hand I made a decision. I would never say the words I love you to someone until I really meant them. I love you was not going to be a relational catch phrase to me. It was going to have depth or I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I image that some of you might think me naive to have made such a stand. Maybe it was. I was young and didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, but I knew something deep in my heart; I wanted to find out what love was and I wanted to know what it meant to really love someone.

The journey to finding the answers to my questions would require writing a book, but let me leave it at this… a few days from now I will celebrate a very important day in my life. March 13^th will mark the day that I stood in front of friends and family and pledged my life to the girl who would become my wife.

Those twenty years have been the most important years of my life. They are the years I grew up and became a man. I found out what it took to keep a job even if I didn’t like it. I found out that parenting is not a science but a constant changing experience that I would never want to do alone. I found out that life can really throw you some curveballs. Most of all I found out how glad I was to have found a partner to live out my adventure with me. The only girl I have ever spoken the words “I love you” to I married.

Speaking the words has only been half the story. The other half has been finding someone who would receive those words and return them. These past twenty years I have been blessed to have this incredible woman stand beside me. She has watched me grow older, she has watched me make mistakes, she has watched me laugh and cry and in all of it she has showed me over and over why I was right to hold my “I love you” for the right person.

Love is not a cheap emotion. No matter how much the world around us drags love down to some cheap feeling. When you find the real thing you understand how precious it is. How can a man put into words what it means to have someone love them after they really get to know them and they don’t have to love them, yet still do?

 Love is a bond that is found in your soul. It is the force that God created the universe from. It is the air that you breathe when life gets complicated. It is the feeling you get when you kiss your wife goodnight knowing she will be beside you until the morning brings a new day. Love is about belonging. It’s about having your person. The one who gets you. The one who still laughs at your jokes. The one who looks in your face and doesn’t see the gray or wrinkles but sees something that so often you can’t even see in yourself.

I saved my “I love you” for one. She’s it! I found her. It’s been twenty years and I will always be so grateful that I waited to find the real thing.

Don’t settle. Don’t cheapen. Don’t give up.  Real love can be found.  I love you big baby…

          The story of blues guitar player Robert Johnson’s extraordinary encounter with the Devil at the crossroads of two country roads has for decades been the subject of folklore. Legend has it that the Devil made a deal with the guitarist that he would give him amazing talent that would make him famous in exchange for his soul. Young Robert Johnson is said to have taken the Devil’s offer. For those who believe in the legend, Robert Johnson’s short but tragic life can all be attributed to the decision he made at that crossroad.

            The idea of this crossroad has taken on mythological proportions. It has since been passed from generation to generation. I, for one, have had a curious fascination that such place may exist but can offer no proof of its existence. On the other hand I am a very firm believer that we always come to personal crossroad moments that have life-altering impact based on the choices we make. The crossroad is the defining place. The place where decisions are made and choices become memorials to lives lived and left behind.

            On a recent cold December night my family and I stumbled into a local café in our city. Our purpose was to have hot chocolate together and warm ourselves from skating in our outdoor ice rink. At the café a young folk man was performing on an acoustic guitar for the patrons that were in attendance. I have always felt drawn to performers and feel obligated to give them a moment of my time to show appreciation for their effort. On this night my family and I all sat down to listen to the young man play. For the next 45 minutes I sat as this young man with regret, sorrow and sometimes hope, expressed in music what I believe is the greatest crossroad we ever face…the decision to believe in a God who seems to choose silence over any other action.

            Song after song offered brief glimpses into the crisis in faith this young man was having through his life. A life in which he openly spoke of his personal journey to believe in one of life’s great mysteries; Is there a God and does HE really care what happens to me or not?

            May I confess to you something? I have always been intimidated by people who claim to have unshakeable faith. When I hear people make such affirmative confessions of their faith I tend to grow quiet because as much as I believe in God, I also struggle with very real doubts.

            I have been taught what to say when people question the existence of God. Like many the lessons on apologetics are ingrained in my Christian DNA. I know what the answers are supposed to be, but forgive me if sometimes they sound hollow in my own ears.  How do I answer the one who asks if God is so loving than why does He allow so much pain and suffering to happen when I’m still trying to find the answer to that myself?  How do I encourage people to have faith that He will take of their needs yet all the while my heart breaks at the poverty and hopelessness that I see surrounding the lives that I try to encourage?  It’s at that moment when you find yourself standing at the crossroads of faith. Will you chose to believe in spite of what your feelings are telling you?

            I will never be able to count the moments when my soul has felt so torn that I’ve cried out to the Lord in anger, hurt or frustration. Those lonely dark hours of the soul, when I’ve stood at the crossroads and the Devil has called out to me to stop fighting and stop trying to believe in a God who seems to prefer silence over any other action. Why He chooses a road that is so filled with doubt when faith is the essence of our belief is difficult to understand until we start to accept that it’s only in brokenness that we can ever truly enter the Kingdom of God.

            Over the past few months I have found a surprising source of strength in an unusual place, the diaries of Mother Teresa. What an affirmation of what faith really is to read how she was ready to leave the dirty, poverty-stricken streets of Calcutta after her first year in the city. She had gone with the fervency of a crusader, yet after a year she was broken and wondering why God had deserted her in such a Godforsaken city. We now know the rest of her story and we celebrate her life, but I wonder how many people along the way knew of the struggle in this great woman of faith who, when confronted with the crossroad, had to choose between the lonely road of greatness or the easier road of comfort? The kicker is that even if they had known they couldn’t help.  You see the crossroads is a place built for one. Only the one who has been called there can go.

            It is the crossroad moments of crisis in faith that will define us. It defines us by our perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds. It defines us by our ability to walk with grace under pressure. And most of all it defines us by our decision to choose to believe in the goodness of His plan despite the reality that our eyes tell us.

            Our battle will always be to believe and keep our hope when we can’t see an answer or way out. When change is not happening, when prayers seem unanswered and our troubles only deepen is so often the moment when the difference between success and failure hangs in the balance. So today if you find yourself in a crisis of faith may I suggest you’re not alone? As much as the voice of Satan is there telling you it’s okay to give up, God is also there to help you stand.

            Tick, tock, tick, tock….seconds. One of times smallest increments for measurement yet one that can have the most impact on the direction of one’s life. It is in the breath that separates each second that some of our most important decisions are made.

Tick tock…a person pulls the trigger of a gun. Not only ending the victim’s life but the life of the one who pulled the trigger. Tick tock … a word spoken in anger ends a business relationship that is poised to benefit both parties for years to come. Tick tock… the decision between exposure or a cover-up that destroys careers and tarnishes organizations forever. Tick tock… the decision to resist or give into a temptation that will redefine your life if exposed. Tick tock-sometimes it’s the lifetime lived between seconds that defines success and failure and what our reality will look like.

I have found myself meditating on the split second decisions of life lately. How can a man or woman who by all accounts is considered a decent person do something that in seconds can unravel a lifetime of good? We are all familiar with the truly evil people in this world but I choose to think they are the rarity and not the norm. That being said, why do we find ourselves so often reading about a tragedy and hearing the common refrain, “They always seemed so nice?”  Even worse are the moments that you look up from your own actions and in confusion wonder, “Oh God…why did I do that? How did I get here?”

The more I ponder this affliction of humanity, and I’m unsure what else to call it, I am   convinced that the decisions that we attribute to seconds of madness are never that simply explained. For every split second decision that brings destruction there has been a corresponding erosion of character that has been ongoing and has now finally borne fruit.

May I propose a question? When was the last time that you sat down to examine your life and examined your heart in such a clear and concise manner that the boundary lines of your convictions were etched so deeply into your conscience that crossing them would be near impossible?

We live in a world where moral convictions are seen as negotiable. The treasure of true love has been lost in celebrity marriages that last less time than it takes the courthouse to process their marriage certificates. Virginity is no longer something to treasure but something we so easily throw away. Wealthy people find new ways to steal from the poor. A politician who stands for their conviction is unelectable because they refuse to make a list of promises they know can never be kept. Even in the House of God where we would hope to find a difference there is no end to the evil being done and hidden behind the name of God.

Proverbs 6:10 - 11 (NKJV) ¹⁰ A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to sleep— ¹¹ So shall your poverty come on you like a prowler, And your need like an armed man.

I believe that the above passage may unlock an important clue. The fateful decisions made in seconds unfortunately start when we get lazy. A little sleep, a little folding of the hands can lead us into that most dangerous place, negotiating with our convictions. When we start to let down our guard and compromise what we know to be truth the road we are on is not only slippery but hazardous.

We are all under stress, be it financial, relational, maybe even physical. The list can go on and on. What parent after several years of raising a teenager hasn’t felt so emotionally exhausted that it takes a supreme effort to not give up and stop parenting?  How many unemployed people have hit such lows that they now contemplate thing that would have at one time seemed unthinkable. Explanations for failure can always be forthcoming but that still doesn’t negate the devastation left in their wake. Pressure by its very definition causes strain, anxiety and disillusionment but can I suggest today that we have to find a new level of strength to be the over comers that we have been called to be. God not only wants to see you survive but he wants to see you thrive in the life He has given you.

Pressure needs to become a warning sign that it is time to retrench your convictions. It is time to make sure there are no holes in the fences of our beliefs. When we make the decision to live within our boundaries there is a power that I believe God releases to live a life of conviction and victory. God can’t and won’t make you do what is right. The power of free will is so sacred that God will never bypass it no matter how much we pray or beg. Instead of praying for God to miraculously deliver us from temptation can we begin to ask Him, “Lord what step can I take today that will prevent me from a disaster someplace in my life when faced with a split second decision?”

Tick Tock…seconds are coming and going. We are all living within the breath of those seconds; decisions are being made that can determine what is to come. You are in a fight for your future! Don’t let those seconds be dictated by a life of wavering convictions. Dig deep my friend. Dig deep…we all have way too much to lose, but we also have everything to gain.

1 Corinthians 10:12 - 13 (TMSG) ¹²Don’t be so naive and self-confident. You’re not exempt. You could fall flat on your face as easily as anyone else. Forget about self-confidence; it’s useless. Cultivate God-confidence. ¹³No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it.

             I recently finished reading Howard Schultz’s book Onward. It is a fascinating look inside the business of Starbucks. Schultz takes the reader through the troubling period in Starbuck’s history when he felt compelled to take back the CEO position of the company he founded many years after leaving that post. Starbucks unbeknownst to many outside observers went through a period where its survival was on the line. Mr. Schultz felt compelled to come back and fight for his company and Onward is the interesting look at that journey back from the edge. 

As Mr. Schultz started to analyze his company he found one major flaw in its structure. Along the way to becoming the biggest coffee shop in the world, they had forgotten that connection between people and a cup of coffee. The cup of coffee to many represented a time for human connection. They had grown so concerned with double-digit growth that they had started to embrace practices that were more focused on the bottom line than what had made them great. It was their place in the human race as a conduit for human interaction that had made them great. Unfortunately in life the pursuit of a success can also leave us lost and forgetting what has always made us special to God.  Our humanity.

            We live in a society that lauds excess. Success for many tends to be determined by the size of the house we live in, what kind of car we drive, or the brand of our clothes. We will spend endless hours chasing these things in the hope that along the way someone will notice and validate our existence by showing envy or at least acknowledging our achievements.

I am finding that the trap in judging my life by the size and quantity of my possessions is soul-stealing. 

            I find myself in another moment of introspection. As I move solidly in middle age am I still able to connect with my soul?  Do I still have contact with the part of my heart that knows my purpose for living?  Have I fallen into the trap of trying to just live a bigger life and neglected the part of me that makes me a good person whether I’m rich or poor?  Am I only able to judge my life a success because of possessions, or is there a measurable way that I can see value for my life by the good I’m leaving behind?

            These are not easy questions. Much as a company like Starbucks had to find its heart again, maybe today you also need to find yours. When was the last time you really looked at the life your building and honestly assessed its value to something besides your own personal gain?

            We have so little time in this life to leave a measurable impact.  History leaves us with many examples of impactful lives. The common thread is not riches or wealth but impact on humanity. There have been countless rich people throughout history who we will never remember but names such as Mother Theresa, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and even modern names such as Bill and Melinda Gates will in history’s eye be remembered for their connection to mankind.

            Your circle of influence may never measure the size of any of these people but do not be deceived into missing your opportunity to make an impact.  Rarely in our world’s history has there been such the urgent need for compassion and kindness to rise up within us. Yes we come to the rescue of those when disasters hit on epic levels, but there are human tragedies being played out all around you if you will open your eyes.

            How many children would sleep easier if a parent hugged them today and told them how proud they were of them? I wonder how much the self-esteem of a wife would grow today if her husband would find something to compliment her about. Or maybe a husband would feel like a man if thanked for his efforts and not always criticized for his shortcomings. Maybe you could call your parents just to say hi or commit to be the friend that you yourself have always wished you had.

            It’s these connections with each other that are the true sign of a significant life.  All the things of the world will fade but the memories we hold of the people we have impacted last far past our lifetime. That is why we have to work so hard to make sure the impact is for good.

            Sometimes I get lost in my life. The pressures of living get intense. It’s during those moments that middle age has given me the insight to slow down for a moment and look inside myself and make sure I can still see a me that I’m not embarrassed for the world to know. 

What Mr. Schultz discovered as he dug into the reasons for Starbuck’s failings was that as Starbucks grew it lost its soul.  No matter how big something looks on the outside without its heart it is only a matter of time before cracks in the surface start to show.  It is a lesson that I believe is also vital to living a successful and abundant life. A big life is not about how immense your possessions become but how deep your relationships grow to be.

            It is hard for me to imagine that 10 years have already passed since the 9/11 tragedy happened. If you were old enough to remember that day, it was one of those beautiful September days that makes you forget snow is coming soon.  Kids had gone back to school just days before; baseball was winding down and football gearing up. It was just an ordinary day in America; until suddenly it wasn’t.

            Nineteen men committed to a cause that we still don’t understand turned planes that we use to travel across this country and to far flung destinations into weapons of warfare. We as a nation, which has always prided ourselves in our ability to fight and protect ourselves, were driven to our knees, not by a mighty army, but by a few committed men.  Ten years later and the reverberations from that horrible day are still causing destruction.

            Its masterminds had several intents.  Some were very visible such as the heartbreak over the loss of loved ones who never stood a chance, to damaging our financial system by undermining the world’s faith in America, and finally to create a cloud of fear that to this day we cannot shake.  Maybe the worst of the damage is that ten years later America has never been so divided.

            I am not naïve enough to believe that we had great unity before the attacks, but I would challenge anyone to show me that we were ever as divided as we are today.  Never have we lived in a time where so little is being accomplished while at the same time so much anger is spewing from those who claim to represent our best interests. We used to live in a country where statesmen walked the halls of Congress. Men and women who knew when to put ideology down for the betterment of or country and reach across the aisle to find agreement on our nation’s problems. Sadly, that seems to be just more tragic fallout from 9/11. We have become a house divided.

            There used to be a time when presidents where respected just because they were president. Over the last ten years I have heard people publicly call for the assassination of President Bush to throwing disgusting racial slurs at President Obama. I sometimes wonder if I’m still living in America or some place that has embraced anarchy with a vengeance. Division has unleashed a lack of civility in our country that I am afraid is driving us to a place of war. This time the enemy won’t be coming from the outside; the enemy we fight will be each other.

            Has there ever been a time for someone to stand up and sound the alarm that our cultural war is unwinnable?  America has always found strength in its diversity. Any time we have tried to homogenize the landscape we ended up weaker.  Whenever we have tried to legalize morality we have ended up with greater moral problems. Whenever we have forced our views down the throats of others without respect for differing views they have ended up becoming our enemies.

            Ten years from 9/11 I am afraid to say we are not a better country.  We are weaker and more vulnerable than ever.  The unity of purpose that held us together in those trying first few days is a distant memory. The brotherhood of unified suffering has drifted into camps whose only voice is anger at their fellow brothers. United we stand and divided we are falling.

            I have no answer. I am but a small voice in a big pond. My heart breaks at what we are becoming and I fear that we have yet to even see just how bad things can get.

Revelations 22:20

He which testifies these things said, surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

Over the past year my daughter, a high school senior, has often used my laptop to complete writing assignments. I wasn’t surprised to open my laptop several weeks ago and find an essay she had written sitting on my desktop. What caught my attention was the title, “This I Believe.” The opportunity to have a brief view into my daughter’s thoughts had me read what she had written. Below is the article.

Victoria Farley
May 10, 2011
Writing Workshop

I believe that it’s important to respect those who deserve it. When I was younger, President Bill Clinton came to Syracuse. My dad wanted us to go when Air Force 1 came in, not to see the President, but to see the plane. My dad did not particularly like President Clinton so it was not a huge deal that he was coming here. When we went, we were all standing by watching as the President started to walk down the row of people shaking everyone’s hand. I did not think my dad would even look his way, but as he made his way to my dad, my dad stuck his hand out, looked at the President and said, “Welcome to Syracuse Mr. President”. I was shocked to see him do that because I knew how much he disliked the man. From that day on I knew that no matter how much I did not like a person, if they were in a position of authority over me, I would respect them. This is something I believe to be true for everyone. I think that it is so important for people to realize that even though you may not like a person, they still deserve the respect of someone you do like. People all over the country do not realize that this is something everyone should follow. They do not find it important to respect the President just because they may not like something he believes, but he is still the President and he deserves that respect. This is also true with people like our bosses or teachers. We may never agree with something that they believe or say, but because of the position of authority they hold above us, we need to respect them as people.

Ever since that day my father taught me that lesson, I have made it a point to treat all those who deserve it with respect. People who hold power over us should get respect because they have worked to get that power. I will always try and follow this idea my father taught me. I will pass it down as well because I believe that respect is very important.

I sat for awhile after reading her words. My daughter is just days from graduating high school. We are planning to send her off this fall to college. I have come to a knowledge that my time as being one of the influential voices in her development is coming to a close. Soon it will be college professors, authors, peers that she has yet to meet and the wide array of people who cross our paths that will be the ones that help develop her adult world view, yet for this one brief moment God gave me a chance to see my place in her life. It also led me to really consider the following passage of scripture.

1 Corinthians 4:14 - 16 (NKJV) ¹⁴I do not write these things to shame you, but as my beloved children I warn you.¹⁵For though you might have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet you do not have many fathers; for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you through the gospel. ¹⁶Therefore I urge you, imitate me.

The essence of Paul’s words where this. There are so many people around you who are throwing hypothetical answers out on how to live a significant life but so few who actually are giving real answers by living lives worth being imitated. The vocal white noise of ten thousand instructors begs for the few who lead by example to stand up and be father’s to a generation of lost people trying to figure out how to navigate through lives they haven’t been equipped to live.

Fatherhood is not a biological condition but a spiritual one. If every man who donated DNA to a child were to actually father them what a changed world we would live in. I believe it is why Paul’s words should be a desperate prayer for us all. There is no historical evidence that Paul ever had children. In fact there is far more to support that he never did, yet how was he able to write about being a father? It was because he knew how to lead by example.

My life is bookmarked by three major events. First my conversion to Christ, second meeting, falling in love, and marrying the girl of my dreams and third the day I became a father. I can’t claim anything close to perfection in any one of these three momentous events, yet I am so thankful that God continues to show me moments when I am someone who can be followed. To that I thank all of those who have allowed me to follow them on their journey of discovery.

I title this article “Rear-view Mirror.” The title was birthed by an image I had of my daughter a few days ago. I dropped her off at school in the morning and as I drove away I looked into my rearview mirror and saw my daughter walking away from me. The force of the image was heartbreaking because in so many ways that is our next segment of life. She is getting ready to leave. I keep asking myself, “Have I equipped her enough for what comes next?” Maybe my answers are found in a young woman’s words on what she believes in and seeing the imprint of a father who is still trying to be someone who can be imitated. For a moment I can close my eyes and know that sometimes I’ve gotten it right and that some of the marks I’ve left on my child are ones which will make her worth being imitated.

             During a recent visit to my wife’s family I had the pleasure of taking in a bit of Americana, a small town Memorial Day Parade. We sat on the street curb with hundreds of other residents of the small town as the pageantry passed us by. Marching bands, old cars, firemen and beaming children marched down the middle of the road taking time to wave and acknowledge the people who had come out to celebrate with them.

            About half way through the parade, a group of elderly men were driven past my family. On the side of their cars was this sign, “World War 2 veterans”. That in itself was not all that unusual. It was a Memorial Day parade after all. What was shocking to me was the emotional response that both my wife and eye had as these brave men passed us. We both choked up and found ourselves teary-eyed.

            This sudden rush of thoughts began to fill my mind. I remember stories my dad told me of an Uncle I never met. Stories of how he was with the troops that liberated several concentration camps and stories of the man that returned from war. A man who would stay up late into the night weeping on his mother’s lap as she tried to drive the horror that had been imprinted on his soul. My father has told me his brother never really made it home.

            Tom Brokaw called them the greatest generation. They fought what many will say is the last war where moral ambiguity was never questioned. There was a very real evil and it had to be eliminated so that the world could be made safe. So as the cars with these elderly vets passed by, something just clicked. If it weren’t for men like these, perhaps my family wouldn’t be sitting on the street on a beautiful Monday enjoying a parade.

            I began to see something that morning I will never forget. Behind those brave men came group after group: Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Civil Air Patrol, Firemen, and soldiers from many other conflicts that we as a nation have fought in. This incredible thought hit me. This is why America is great. We celebrate sacrifice.

            To sacrifice has been a part of this nation since the first settlers crossed hazardous oceans to come to start lives in a land where they had no idea what awaited them. We sacrifice our time to coach sports teams for kids and lead scout troops. We sacrifice our money when disasters happen and our families sometimes sacrifice us as we rush to be on the ground to help. We sacrifice our fathers, mothers, sons and daughters in distant lands fighting so our world can be just a little bit safer. We sacrifice sleep working multiple jobs so that our children can know security or maybe the hope of a better future as they pursue the first college degree in a family.

            We know sacrifice. I’m not saying that our country is alone in this. Many others have some of the same struggles. I think what makes us unique is how we celebrate the sacrifice. Because we are a nation that honors those who have given, the cycle of sacrifice is passed from generation to generation. To honor those around us who take on extra burdens so that someone else’s load is a little lighter is, in my opinion, the sign of a society that still has more to give.

            I have heard the drum beat of how bad America is. I’m not ignorant of its faults and America does have many problems, but it also has a soul that keeps me hopeful that God’s hand is still with us. In the void created by all the horrible things that happen in this country still beats the heart of giving people.

            We are hurting right now as a nation. Unemployment is still high. People are still losing their homes. The gap between those who have and those who have not is larger than ever but I still have hope. We are a nation of heroes. So many will never be known because their sacrifices happen off the screen of a television or away from the pages of a newspaper but never mistake - they are heroes.

It’s this inner character of America that I found myself examining on that street curb Memorial Day. This strength allows us to be collectively larger than any of our individual parts. To reach across the boundaries of race, ethnicity or gender to help others is an amazing gift God has put in us. 

I ask you to consider today the many who sacrifice for you. We are not islands. We are connected as sons and daughters of Adam. Find someone who has sacrificed for you and celebrate them. When we honor our heroes we give the greatest reward for the sacrifice….our gratitude.

           This morning I’m sitting on my back porch enjoying my morning cup of coffee.  The birds are happily singing to each other, my dog is already taking her early morning nap; it’s going to be a great day. Something keeps catching my eye though. On any other day it would probably be a great distraction but not today.  Today it makes me smile and feel like I’ve made a small mark toward passing the torch forward in my family. What has caught my eye?  It is the fresh mowed back lawn.  Instead of its usual neat cut rows, it looks crooked today with obvious missed patches throughout, yet I don’t think it’s ever looked better.

            For the past two years my son has been asking me to teach him how to mow the lawn. He has always been a hard working kid who is up to helping me out so his request wasn’t surprising. For various reasons I have put him off.  He was too young to use the mower, he wasn’t strong enough, maybe next year we will give it a try. This spring a game changer happened that I wasn’t expecting.  Alex’s grandfather let him mow his lawn with a real power mower.  My excuses were not going to work anymore.  It was time to turn the boy loose.

            In hindsight I think that some of my excuses for delaying him weren’t valid.  My son is young and a lawn mower is a dangerous piece of equipment, but if I was to be honest with myself the reasons were more about me than him. No matter how much I complained about never getting any help, it has always seemed to be faster to just do something myself than to wait for one of my children to step up and help me.

            Here’s where the revelation hit me. As I walked behind my son, giving him instructions on how to handle the mower, keep a straight line and empty the clippings, I realized he wouldn’t learn about this responsibility if I didn’t teach him and that is a vital part of my role in our family.  The next revelation was that if I kept putting him off when he asked me to teach him, because it was just more work for me, than eventually he would stop asking.

            How many of us have looked at our teenagers and wondered why they will never help out around the house or shook your head at their sense of entitlement?  It seems that I find more and more parents throwing their hands up in surrender to a generation that has taken egocentricity to new levels.  As a parent I have struggled for answers but I find myself examining this moment with my son and wondering if we as parents aren’t responsible for some of the problem.

            For most of us, our time is one of our most valuable commodities. Finding time in our busy lives grows more difficult all the time, yet it is this battle with time that I believe keeps us from making the priceless investment in our children that will hasten their growth into mature adults. Teaching is a sacrifice. If you know how to perform a task you can always do it faster. The problem is that when we stopping equipping our children to succeed, we can’t expect them to understand that a family has to work together with each of us carrying a portion of the responsibility. The end result, if we don’t slow down and take the time to teach our children when they are open to instruction, is a household that is in conflict because someone is left to carry more than they can handle.

            Having been in parent mode for the past 20 years, I’ve come to the conclusion that my chief responsibility is to prepare my children for the day that their mother and I aren’t around to dictate the blow by blow moments of their lives. They have to be able to stand on their own and the more that we prepare them for life the more successful at it they will be. When a child asks us to teach them and we don’t, we fail in our mission of preparing them for life.  If I child is told “not now” enough they stop asking and I contend they become the teenager who just expects everything done for them because that’s how we trained them.

            So this summer, if you drive by house my lawn may look a little funny. It won’t be featured in Better Homes and Gardens. You won’t find a feature in Fine Lawns monthly.  It probably is going to look a bit rough for a bit.  It’s a work in progress just like the young man who is learning how to pull his own weight and contribute instead of being one more young person unable to launch into adulthood.

“I’ve never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.” – Mark Twain.

            The stunning news that one of America’s greatest enemies, Osama Bin Laden had been killed awaited me and many others in the early hours of May 2. To hear the news that this man who has caused so much suffering and changed the way we live in this country was dead made me sit and reflect on the decade since he horrified us with his hatred.

            Who can forget those minutes and days after the 9/11 attacks. Fear was everywhere. We cried until we ran out of tears. The walls that so often separate us came crashing down as our need to connect overcame our fears of each other. We were all Americans. Someone hurt us and someone was going to pay.

            It’s hard to believe that ten years have passed. An administration has changed. The world has gone through the Great Recession. We’ve lost our homes, paid more for gas than ever before, and seen the countless flag-draped coffins of our soldiers travel the roads of our towns and cities as they make their way to their final resting place. On Sunday, the man who put this into motion was killed and a part of me says “Finally we can breathe a bit easier”.

            I could end this with the brief note I’ve written but as usual nothing is as black and white as we would like it. You see, I have a 9-year-old son who wasn’t alive when this happened.  He has never known a country different than the one we live in.  He was struggling yesterday morning to understand why people would cheer over the death of a man.  In his heart he couldn’t put the pieces together.

            I tried to give him an answer. I told him of the terrible things Bin Laden had done, how this was justice, not vengeance.  It was only later that I would comprehend how much of an internal struggle he was having.  He just couldn’t understand how people at a baseball game would applaud the death of a man.  It didn’t fit in his picture of God or mercy.

            My wife told me that before he left for school he made her repeat Bin Laden’s name so that he would be able to pronounce it correctly.  He then went on a nine hour mission to ask the adults in his life how they felt about Bin Laden’s death.  From his teacher to his karate instructors and every other adult he came into contact with that he knew and respected.  He told his mother later how he asked each one, “Are you happy Osama Bin Laden was killed?”   I thank God that those he asked gave my little boy such thoughtful answers.

            Finally last night we climbed up on the bed and watched the evening news together. Maybe my wife’s words would be best to explain his conclusion.

“We watched the evening news together last night and I started to cry, really cry. I apologized because all of it came rushing back at me. Alex heard my sobs and looked at me and said, “I am starting to understand; it’s not that anyone is happy exactly…but he was a very bad man.”

            My purpose behind my words today is to slow myself down and to not get caught up in the heat of the moment and forget my place as a disciple. There are few people who have deserved justice such as this man and yet, in the eyes of a 9-year-old boy, I see the seat of mercy in a way I’ve never seen before.

            My son reminded me yesterday of an important lesson. In a civilized society we must fight the easy road of hate. It is that very indulgence in hate that has bred the Osama Bin Laden’s of the world. It is the place where cultural, social, religious and political differences are reasons to wish terrible harm on those that differ with your opinion. Unfortunately America may fool itself but we our becoming a nation that clings to our biases with as much tenacity as any terrorist. It  shouldn’t be Bin Laden’s lasting legacy in America that he taught us how to commit Jihad on each other.

            I will celebrate my country’s accomplishment this week. I will reflect on a sad day and try to teach my son why justice being served is a good thing. My hope is that he won’t see me act in a way that undermines all the lessons I’ve taught him about grace. I guess I never want to become a small man in his big eyes.

2 Peter 3:9 (TMSG) ⁹God isn’t late with his promise as some measure lateness. He is restraining himself on account of you, holding back the end because he doesn’t want anyone lost. He’s giving everyone space and time to change.

            Last night as I was scrolling through my list of emails and messages one came up that stopped me cold. In the late hours of Wednesday afternoon Pastor David Wilkerson was involved in a tragic accident in which he lost his life. All I could do was bow my head and blink back the tears. It just didn’t seem right that such a great man would see his life end in such a way.

            As a young man I remember reading The Cross and The Switchblade with bated breath. Each page read like an adventure novel as the characters came dancing across the pages. The action was non-stop and gripped my imagination. The kicker was that it was all real.

            David Wilkerson stepped onto the mean streets of NYC as an inexperienced preacher and became one of God’s mighty men. His impact on the City of New York can only be measured in eternal terms. God put a call on him that took him to the lowest of the low and yet many of those have become great men and women for the Lord.

            Even today, as a pastor, I have personally sent people through one of the ministries that grew from him, Teen Challenge. This ministry, which he started on the streets of New York for the broken and the addicted, has spread across the globe. The countless numbers of people who have found hope, freedom and salvation at a Teen Challenge is staggering. Not to mention the success rates of the centers blow away secular approaches to addiction.

            To top it off Times Square Church is one of the great American churches. Located in mid-town Manhattan this church has had a world changing impact. Pastor Wilkerson’s messages from the pulpit of Times Square Church have blessed so many.

            Several years ago I had the privilege of being in a meeting in which David Wilkerson spoke. I had read many of his writings and had always been struck by the tenacity with which he held to righteousness. I was stunned to sit and listen to him apologize and repent that morning for his lack of grace. Of all the writings and messages I had ever read or heard his positions where always theologically correct - yet here in what where the later years of ministry God was still teaching him about grace.

            I hold that morning close to my heart today. This man who accomplished so much for the Lord could have sat back on his accomplishments or even kept the lesson he was learning private but he did neither. Instead he humbly stood before a group of people who collectively had not done as much as he and humbled himself. Now that’s greatness.

            So I say goodbye to a hero. Many thousands of words will be spoken in the days to come. To that symphony of cheers I add my voice. Well done you faithful servant of the Lord may you enjoy your eternal reward!