Loving Your Neighbor Starts At The Front Door

Jamie and I bought our first home a few years back. It was a crazy process. One night, after working more than fourteen hours remodeling, we were all trying to get some shuteye when someone started banging on my door at four o’clock in the morning. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

I was wiped out from the crazy day of hard work, so I woke up in a daze. You may know what I’m talking about. It's as if you’re actually only half awake. If you’re anything like me, you probably slobber a little bit and are extra grumpy. I didn’t have time to think about how my eyelids were hanging heavy. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. The person at the door was still banging away.

I was still asleep, but I was getting mad. After all, I had guests in my house—people who had worked hard helping us prepare our new home—and some crazy person was still knocking on my door. I stumbled to my closet in some kind of sleep deprived stupor and got my shotgun. I’m not kidding. Suddenly there it was again. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. The front door still rocking on the hinges.

By then I was both awake and livid. I don’t even know how I had time to get so mad. It all happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to not get mad. Instinct just took over.

In a rapid blur of quick succession, I grabbed the door knob and threw the door open with a BOOM louder than the knocking had probably been. As the door swung open I stuck my shotgun right into the gap—right into the face of this tiny little pregnant woman. She screamed “Lawd Jesus!” and almost fell off my porch. I would probably scream too if someone stuck a shotgun in my face.

Actually, there was a lot more to this situation—even though this lady was pregnant, she was also not in her right mind. She was very clearly high on something and had come looking for gas money. She was very ambiguous, totally unwilling to go into any detail about her situation. I had put down my gun and was trying to ask her questions. To be honest, unless she would have been obviously wounded or injured in some way it wouldn’t have mattered. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t help her. There were just too many cobwebs in my head from the fatigue of the day.

You see, this woman needed help, but all I wanted was sleep. I’d like to tell you I helped her, but I was so mad I sent her away. Any help I might have given wouldn’t have lasted long. By the time I was closing my door cops were coming up the street to take her away. Apparently, I wasn’t her first stop.

The truth is we can’t become too sleepy to care. Caring moves you forward. We must care about what happens around us. We desperately need to love the people God puts in our path because they may be desperately in need of love.

There is no doubt here at all on my part. I handled this situation very poorly in the story I just told you. I didn’t see. I didn’t care. I only reacted. Were there some valid reasons for my actions? Probably. Would I respond the same way if it happened again tonight? Perhaps. But I’m learning to have more compassion for the situations coming my way. I’m trying to see needs and meet them if I can. A lot like this guy named Ezra in the Bible.

Ezra was tired too. He had a whole country full of tired people he was helping after one hundred and twenty-eight years of struggles on their part. Ezra showed up right in the middle of a terrible situation because he was paying attention and looking for an opportunity to help.

We must observe! We must look around! I have gotten this wrong so often. I’m not the only one. I think it’s common anymore to hear people who are not followers of Jesus respond with an air of cynicism when it comes to those of us who do follow Jesus. In my experience this perspective has a lot more to do with the actions, and inaction, of Christians than it does with their simple lack of belief. Look, we have to care about what’s going on right in front of us before we can faithfully take the next step forward.

Ezra walked (literally) into a lost kingdom. He cared about the Kingdom. He was not apathetic and indifferent to the situation. He was not antagonistic or against the situation. He was compassionately aware of the situation. 

When Jesus talked about his friends and those who followed him he talked about another kingdom. He called it the Kingdom of God. How do we feel about those missing from the Kingdom of God? Through some painful self-reflection, it dawned on me we might learn our true feelings about the missing ones if they happened to find our front door at four o’clock in the morning.

Becoming apathetic toward those who haven’t embraced their invitation to follow Jesus is far too easy.  If we believe in the value of a soul, we must consider vital the opportunities to connect with those souls. We talk a lot in the Church about people finding Jesus, but what if Jesus sent them to you first? If that feels weighty, good. I think people ought to matter to us enough to make us uncomfortable with how we’ve messed this up.

I read recently how over two billion people call themselves Christians out of the more than seven billion people on the planet. Honestly, that’s a number so large I had to have my math teaching wife explain it to me. Any time you use numbers involving billions of anything you’re dealing with a staggering computation. So, let’s put this in a frame of reference that will help us understand.

What if we lined up all the people who gather in your church, at your local hangout spot, or maybe your gym on a Monday afternoon? If we lined everyone up how far would the line, go? Perhaps it would go a few dozen feet. Maybe it would stretch the length of a football field. Maybe it would even go a mile or two.

However, if you lined up all the people in this world who are not following Jesus, the number we collectively call “lost”. If we lined them all up and headed east from where I sit at my desk right now the line would go all the way across America. It would reach the Atlantic Ocean, travel through Great Britain, and across Europe, through the Middle East, and India, and Asia, and it wouldn’t stop there. The line would fly right back across the Pacific Ocean, fly by Hawaii, through California, across the Rockies, and the American Midwest all the way right back here to my seat.

The person in the front of the line could turn around and high-five the person in the back of the line. Then it would just keep going and going. The line would go around the whole planet two times, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, forty times. It would just keep going. The line would wrap around the entire world more than fifty times. That's how many lost people are in this world. We must see them.

Right here in my hometown. In this lovely part of the world we locals call the River Valley most people do not profess to follow Jesus. They haven’t followed their invitation. We need to acknowledge that. I need to acknowledge them. I need to put down my pet issues and stop brandishing them like a shotgun at midnight. I must stave off fatigue, fear, and financial worry. I must see them.

 That guy Ezra I mentioned earlier had a small part in a big story. He wasn’t afraid to dream big about his role. He wanted to do more because he cared. He was looking out at the world around him, and he saw a kingdom needing help. He did it. He never stopped moving forward. He led a four-month excursion across a thousand miles of bandit-filled desert. Ezra was like Mad Max with a camel instead of a Camaro. When his neighbors showed up in the middle of the night looking for help he didn’t pull out his shotgun. No, Ezra was devoted to helping his neighbors, his friends, his family, and even the strangers down the block learn who this great God of his was. He was devoted to helping them move forward. He was devoted to helping a lost kingdom become a whole kingdom, where no one was missing, no one was disqualified, and no one was shunned.

Ezra did it. It’s a cool story, but he didn’t do it alone. There were some guys with crazy names on board. These two fellas called Haggai and Zachariah helped a lot. They were prophets, which means they talked quite a bit about what God was trying to tell his friends. This guy Nehemiah was also there leading the workers and government officials.

You can read all these guys’ stories and it paints one big cool story. It’s the story of a group of people who had experienced generations of calamity and were trying to bounce back. None of them could do it alone. Thank God they didn’t have to.

Once all their work was done they partied. After their ruined city was rebuilt, and the walls fixed, and the place where they went to worship called the Temple was all patched up, they had a big to-do. It was like a barbeque, book reading, and concert all rolled into one. People cried, and people danced. They listened and loved. Neighbors rejoiced in the finished work and high-fived each other for the first time in decades. But what if Ezra and his friends had shown up in the middle of the night and someone had stuck a gun in their face?

 There is much work to be done and workers to do it. There are needs to meet and people to meet them. We must acknowledge. We have to wake up.

The Nathan I used to be couldn’t most of the time. I just didn’t have it in me. The Nathan I’m trying to be now can’t afford not to.

People are still beating down my door. Everyday my phone buzzes at least fifty times with people on the other end who need help. Guess what? I don’t hang up or ignore them. Maybe your phone is ringing way more often. Perhaps your door has already fell off the hinges from all the knocking. Do something about it. You’ve got it in you, and even when you run out of that God will help you find some more.

There are no closed doors, no shotguns, and no screaming pregnant ladies falling off my porch anymore. I am awake. Hopefully for good. You go be awake too. Find someone needing you to do better than you’ve done before and do it.

Clouds and Cages

Photo by Venezuelan Tourism.

After college I had the incredible opportunity to serve a parachurch organization called Chi Alpha for a little over a decade. That time was foundational and monumental for me. It is permanently fixed in my soul as a vital season I will always treasure for the special memories made, the friendships developed, and the growing taking place within my own heart and mind.

One of my fondest memories came at the very end of my time with the organization. For months we had planned a trip to Venezuela to work at an orphanage in the remote countryside. It was an exhilarating adventure full of many special moments with dear friends.

On the last day of our adventure we took a gondola up into the mountains near Caracas. A gondola is basically a small cage for people suspended on a cable that is then carried slowly up the side of a mountain. Just think of a big aquarium dangling from a wire going up the side of a mountain and you have the right idea.

We waited at least an hour for our turn to step into a cage. As we waited I listened to a group of local girls argue about whether my friend Rob was Justin Bieber. I don’t think Rob knew he was the topic of conversation at all, but it didn’t stop the boys accompanying the young ladies from shooting him ugly looks.

I had ridden a ski lift many times, dozens of times, but I wasn’t altogether prepared for the adventure about to ensue as my friends Jake, Ellen, and Rashad stepped into the gondola ahead of me. We all settled in for what was supposed to be an almost twenty-minute ride to the top of the mountain. Rashad was clearly very nervous about the experience while the rest of us were good to go.

As our tiny cage crept up the side of the hill some things began to change. Visibility plummeted even as our altitude rose. The temperature within the small suspended glass box decreased as well. And then, as a white wall loomed ahead of us, my friend’s nervousness escalated into full-blown panic.

We passed out of visibility and into an alien world of white fog, the gondola ascending into the clouds themselves on the side of a remote Venezuelan mountain. It was eerie to be sure. Rashad was scared, but what happened next was both beautiful and hilarious. At the top of his lungs my large friend began to not just sing, but bellow in a deep baritone, the lyrics to the timeless hymnal Amazing Grace.

Remember that picture of an aquarium from earlier? Yeah. Bring that back and add a large man singing boisterously enough for cages on either side to hear. It was awesome! It didn’t take long for him to calm down after that. Which I think all of us in the car appreciated since we were maybe halfway up the mountain.

I don’t think the beauty of the moment was lost on any of us that afternoon. We had spent a week working with kids in an impoverished place. We had helped clean up a school and made playgrounds playable again. The evenings were spent serving a faraway church that shared a common faith. So, Rashad’s instincts weren’t to allow his panic and anxiety to carry him into a dangerous reaction suspended high above the mountain valley. His reaction was to lean into grace, and his demonstration was to literally voice his feelings in song.

 There have been many times when my life has found me suspended above the valleys of failure and dangling within the fog of uncertainty. Sometimes nerves get the best of me. It’s not a thing I think anyone has perfected. I am continuing to learn just how little I should fear what lies within the fog, because I have great faith in the one who makes the fog.

I’ve known about Jesus all my life. I am after all a church kid. But I started living my faith on my own—as real as I knew how, in my teenage years. I’ve lived a life wrapped in stories of my forefathers and grandparents, my uncles, and friends—many of them also followers of faith in Jesus.

Perhaps what I see the most about those who follow authentic faith is their lives are not free of hard things. They don’t get out unscarred or without having to face down fear. They don’t make it out at all. None of us really do. I know, that doesn’t sound like the most encouraging thing a guy could say when he is trying to make a point about faith. But here’s the bottom line: those of us who don’t just dabble in faith, but go all in, will consistently find ourselves in places and situations that feel like a group of friends dangling on the side of a mountain.

The thing about this life is no one gets out alive. We all have choices to make. We can fear the fog. We can let doubt keep us from stepping into the gondola when it’s our turn and forever miss the journey ahead. We can wait at the bottom and never see the beauty waiting just above. Or we can step into a journey of mystery and uncertainty.

I want to keep stepping on the gondola. I want to keep letting life carry me up and into the fog. I might not know exactly where I’m going, but I do know exactly where I’m heading.

 After several more minutes of a grinding pace that s-l-o-w-l-y carried us up the precipice we broke through the clouds. There, on the other side we were met with a festival you could not have seen or even imagined from the ground below. We stepped out of our cage into a party.

There were jugglers and vendors, markets and handmade things. There were singers, dancers, performers, and artisans. Delectable treats and sweet things hung from stalls lining the cobblestone paved walkways. Happy people walked shoulder-to-shoulder stranger with stranger and no one stopped to argue about politics, sports, or other trite things.

The sights of people in celebration were spectacular, but when you looked past the wondrous scene of joy unbridled there was something even more spectacular to behold—the view.

Stunning vistas the like of which I had never witnessed met my gaze. No small feat for nature to throw the way of a kid raised in mountains who spent most of his free time around mountains and on mountains doing mountain things. I watched what must have been kids playing on a nearby range. I saw an airplane fly by—below us. I saw miles of mountains, farms, roads, and villages. It was spectacular.

It was, to say the least, monumental in scale and beauty. I could see for miles. The horizon seems further away so far up. As if ascending to such a majestic place somehow offered a perspective not to be found elsewhere.

And really that’s the way of it. Faith does lend perspective. Before and behind. Below and beside. Faith gives you a glimpse into what you can’t see. Faith doesn’t even help you see it all the time either. It just helps you come to terms with what can’t be seen.

The trouble is we sometimes forget our own faith. We forget what happened yesterday that gave us the boldness to believe in the first place. We forget the wins we’ve seen and the losses we’ve been carried through.

Forgetfulness can do a real number on faith. It can make the fog seem thicker and the cage seem smaller. No one forgets on purpose. We just displace the memories of all the spectacular things we’ve seen with new stuff. Often boring stuff. We fill our minds with spreadsheets and P&L statements, with PTO meetings, soccer practices, and deadlines. We jam it full of Facebook, Snapchat, and cable news. We keep on cramming until we don’t even remember we have forgotten something sacred to us. In our scramble to fill our lives with meaning we move some of our most meaningful moments toward the fringe—losing them to the fog of forgetfulness in the process.

All of this leaves us with the appearance of meaning, and belonging, and purpose—but at the cost of our souls. We raise up a wondrous facade. Like a shrine built to our own importance and interests. But that can never last.

When the fog looms and the cage squeezes I am the last guy I can depend on. I’m probably too busy freaking out. Especially if I am too busy being important to remember what’s important. The cure or fix or just plain better way of doing life is to remember. Remember what amazing thing God has done in your life and remember how it changed you forever.

What Are You Known For?

I’ve had a big question on my mind this week thanks to Jeff Henderson’s excellent book “For”. What do I want to be known for?

My answer to this question has changed so many times. As a I teenager I wanted to be known as a great basketball player. Too bad I was always a little too slow, a lot too skinny, and the youngest guy on the team. In college I wanted to be known as a great musician, and to an extent I was. For most of my life these three words describe what I’ve been known for, “the smart guy”.

None of those describe what I want to be known for. I don’t want to be known for basketball, or music, my intellect, or my writing. And, even though at momentary intervals I may have looked for validation from others in these things, I don’t anymore. Those days are all long behind me.

But what am I known for? I can’t answer that. Mostly because I don’t possess Professor X level telepathic mind reading powers. Wouldn’t that be cool? I wouldn’t mind being known for that, but I digress. I don’t know what I’m known for.

I only know what I would like to be known for. It’s not my intellect, my musicianship, or my step-back-three. I want to be known for the way I love. That’s it. That’s all.

I want to love my family exceptionally well. I want to love my friends, our church, my neighbors, and my students—I want to be known for the way I love. But loving those people should be pretty easy. What kind of person doesn’t love their friends and family?

I want to be known for loving others. It’s that simple. It’s that hard. Have you met some of you? Some of you are hard to love. Some of you don’t make it easy. But I don’t want to be known for doing what’s easy. 

It’s so easy to love people who are educated middle class conservative evangelicals—most of the time. Those are all things that describe me. It’s easy to love people who share common interests. You like Captain America? Me too. We can be pals. But what about everyone else. I better be known for loving the easy ones. But I hope I’m known for loving the “everyone else’s” too.

What do you want to be known for? What are you known for? Is there a discrepancy?

Here’s my challenge to you. Ask someone around you to tell you what you are known for. 

How Are You Doing?

​“How are you doing?”

“How’s it going?”

“How’s life?”

I don’t know how I’m doing. I should probably have a better answer for this because I feel like I get asked this question at least a dozen times a day.

The default answer is “good”, but am I? Like Gandalf in the Hobbit, there’s a bit of confusion for me about whether the intended query is speculating as to the nature of my health, my moral disposition, or something else entirely.

Recently one of my favorite speakers/authors defined this in a very illuminating way. How I am doing may best be defined by how those around me are doing? Want to find out how I’m really doing? Ask my wife. Ask my kids. Ask the team of people I lead in our church.

Maybe I’m getting it right. Maybe I’m acing it. Maybe not. I’ve learned who I need to ask—and I’ve tried to grow the habit of actually asking.

But here’s a picture of how good I hope I’m doing....

I want my life to be uplifting. I want to help everyone in the room get better by my having been there. I want to hold the collective gathering of those in connection to me to a higher regard and somehow help them stretch for a higher goal.

They may not make it. They may not even let go of the ball. But let us greatly enjoy the rise to the occasion and camaraderie built along the way. We aren’t just good with that. We are better for it.

All The Sweeter

Today I learned something amazing. My wife and I are having a baby girl. What?!?! The KingCasa will no longer be solely driven by the testosterone fueled mischief of an all boy abode.

For weeks when someone would ask about Baby #4 I would just say, “I assume we are having a boy until science says otherwise.” Science says girl. And we’re thrilled. Not because we were wanting to add ribbons and bows to the mix. We’re thrilled because this adventurous life just got bigger and better. We would have been happy with any result. But yeah, there is a certain Grandma in the scenario who was really angling for a little princess—as well as two of my closest friends who both have daughters of their own.

Isn’t it just like God to completely surprise you? I’ve always liked good surprises. Suddenly, like we so often do, Jamie and I find ourselves in brand new beautifully-terrifying-territory. I don’t know ANYTHING about girls. I still find it a little bewildering that I found one who likes me enough to stick around.

But the faith life is nothing if not an ever stepping trek into the new and the unknown. One more jaunt up a hill whose pinnacle of hope masks a horizon of promise painted long before the first sunrise made its away across the globe. God knows. He knew it. He made it so.

He hung it there for us to find. He sat it there for us to walk upon in our wild journey into all of the good things he makes ready for the ones he loves. That’s you by the way. It’s me too. What a ride. The joy of this journey of faith is sometimes juxtaposed against a sadness for all the ones I’ve known who never dared to give it a shot. For in faith’s embrace life is made all the sweeter.

Wear Your Reminder

I woke up this morning, got ready for work, shuttled my little boys to preschool and headed for my office. Just as I was getting into my car I noticed this:

One of my kids had decided to brand me this morning before I woke up. The sneaky little dude.

Old Nathan would have washed it off so I could look professional. After all, I am supposed to teach college students how to speak in a professional environment. This Nathan, the one I am today is leaving it there all day.

I’m not a tattoo guy and I never will be. I have some friends who are tattoo people. They have stories for all of their ink. I have a story for my ink too. The story of my ink is love.

My son loves me. Heck, maybe Jamie did it—but I know she loves me. How do you think we had so many kids?

My son loves daddy and he left me a reminder on my arm that will be there all day long. I might leave it all week. Because love marks us.

When we have been touched by love. By real love. It changes something about us.

Those of us who follow Jesus get really enthusiastic about it sometimes. I think that is fantastic. We should be excited about such big love at work in our lives. We should relish in the way it marks our life. We should never been ashamed, embarrassed, or afraid to show off the artistic beauty of grace to those we find in close proximity.

When I was in high school we all wore these bracelets all the time that said, "WWJD". It was an acronym for a great question: What Would Jesus Do? I think when it started it was meant to remind us to think through our decisions—but, at least for many of the people I knew who wore them, it became more a fashion piece than a guiding principle.

I don't want the mark love leaves on me to be fashionable. I'm not trying to show it off like a shiny new toy. I just want to revel in the truth that love is changing, challenging, and growing me. I think when we're at our best in the love of Christ we don't have to make a huge deal about it because the way we love everyone else in turn makes a huger deal about it. God's love at work in you, and the impact you make in the lives of those you come into daily contact with, is a bigger statement than most of our statements. We don't have to always say it or show it. We can just do it. We can live it.

The breath in our lungs is a reminder of God's grace on us. The gravity that glues us to the ground is like a divine embrace. The hope we can know and feel and live shines on us as sure as a sunrise. Let love be your reminder. Wear that. Share it everywhere you can.

Where You Will Fill Up

I had lunch with my Brad today. Brad is my best friend. We’ve been friends for decades. I love this dude. He’s like a 2nd brother to me. 

As I was leaving, the fuel light in my car came on. So I did what you’re supposed to do when that happens. I pulled into a gas station. When I went to pump some gas there was a problem. I swiped my card and put in the required information—but no gas came out. Nothing. There was a disconnect between the input and the output. I really needed gas. But I couldn’t get any. I got back in my car, went down the road, and got my gas. No problem. No disconnect. The input matched the output. I filled up the tank.

There are so many people who are empty. They pull right up. They. Need. What. You. Have. If you follow Jesus the people who’ve pulled up to you need the light of life living inside you. They need the joy that lights up your every day world to make a life-giving difference in theirs.

We can’t afford to have a disconnect between the output and the input. We can’t put up borders, boundaries, or hurdles. The invitation to Jesus is simple. “Come to me.” That’s what he said.

People will go where they can get full. They will go where someone wants to be there for them. But they don’t want the fake stuff. They don’t want a show. They don’t want religious hurdles. They don’t want rules. They want gas. They want the thing they need that will get them down the road. They want life in all of its explosive awesomeness. 

The thing about gas is there’s no hiding it. It smells. It’s distinct. The moment it enters the scenario it matters. It’s a game changer. 

Go be a game changer for someone. Make a difference. Help them matter and mean it. Don’t fake it. If it’s at your coffee table, your coffee shop, or your church pew. Connect them with the good stuff. Just a little bit matters. But I bet you have more than just a little. 

Three of My Best Decisions This Year

Every day of our lives are full of decisions to make. What to wear. What to eat. What kind of dance to do when your kid uses the potty...Oh, you don’t do that? Ok.

We all have decisions. Some decisions we make. Some decisions make us. The ones we make are sometimes small things that make a big impact. The ones that make us are total game changers. They may not even seem like that big a deal at the time—but.... they. change. everything.

Here are three of the best decisions I’ve made in the last year.

1) I stopped watching TV.

Total honesty here. I still watch TV. Wait, what? Did you just lie to us Nate? No. No. No. Maybe a better way to say it would have been “I stopped being addicted to TV.”

I cut the cable. Literally. I walked out to the side of my house and physically the cut the cable, tore it down, and threw it in the trash.

I worked in an entertainment retail store as a manager a long time ago. I saw dozens of people daily whose lives were consumed by the stuff they liked. Don’t get me wrong here—I still enjoy some entertainment now and then. I love superhero movies. I love college basketball. But I have too many important things to do to let some show run the show.

So I unplugged and checked out. It’s never a priority. I watch it on my time and my schedule if I watch it at all, which is becoming less and less. Guess what? I don't miss it.

2) I decided to be bad at email.

I don’t know about you, but my life is busy. At some point in the past someone somewhere decided that sending electronic mail was an efficient way of doing things—and I guess it is to an extent. But what I discovered in the last couple of years is that I can spend a lot of time looking over the dozens and sometimes hundreds of emails that pour in every day—or I can take a few of them a couple of times a week and try to make a difference.

So I gave myself permission to suck at email. If you email me I might not see it. And I’ve learned to be ok with that. Because honestly if what you have to say is actually urgent or important enough you really need to talk it through with me you can reach me another way.

Kind of liking cutting the cable—I’ve decided to ignore the inbox. That might not work for you. But it works pretty great for me.

3) I resolved to say yes more than no.

I am really good at saying no. It’s a skill I developed over and over and over again throughout my twenties. It seemed like I was getting asked to play music somewhere all the time. Or I’d get asked to do favors for people on a regular basis. I did a lot of it, but nowhere close to all of it. I would just say no.

I realized saying no so much wasn’t always the best reflection of this amazing God I love. What I’ve learned most about Jesus when I read about his incredible love is just how much and how often he said yes.

Jesus said yes to interruptions. He said yes to needs. He said yes to his friends, his family, and perfect strangers.

What would happen in my everyday world if I made it a goal to get to yes? I bet a lot. Stayed tuned, I’m working on this. I’ll let you know how it goes.

These are three simple things I’ve put into practice in the last year of my life. The changes they have brought have been amazing. What are some of the best decisions you’ve made? 

School Started: How Loud Is Your House?

Our house is crazy loud all the time. I find myself needing to escape the din and the noise and retreat to a room full of silence at times. But not this morning.

Today is the first day of school. Ethan started 1st grade. Jon and Matty went to preschool where they will be enrolled full time for the first time ever. So my home this Monday morning is silent.

I sat down with a cup of coffee and my Bible. I put some music on as I read and I drank all of it in—the quiet, the contemplation, and the caffeine. I like it, but I don’t want to get used to it.

Our house is usually what I like to jokingly call a “happy bag of chaos”. It’s always, always, always, full of crazy frenetic energy. Until it’s not.

This morning it is not.

And, while the peaceful moment is momentous I don’t want so many of them that it becomes the norm. Like many parents I wonder at the sanity of trusting my children to strangers during their formative years while at the same time being intensely thankful for the people who often lovingly and sacrificially give of themselves to better our kids.

My house is quiet, but my heart is not. I relish this moment to reminisce, but I am already ready to see my boys again. I’m already ready to fill this house again with the sounds of legos, and fighting, and boys at play.

Not all noise is great, but when it comes to the kind of noise arising within a house filled with life there can be no better sound. This is a rare moment. Next week I’ll go back to school myself and then my house really will be silent.

But our house is not our home. It’s just the place we experience the joy of togetherness most often. Where our noise is where home is. Even as I bask in the ever fleeting silence I miss it.

What Can You Do?

What’s the one thing you can do today to make a difference in the lives of the people around you? Think about that for a moment. If you don’t come up with anything let me challenge you to try harder.

There are people in your life no one can help like you can. You help them. It could be a simple thing like a kind greeting in passing. If that’s what you got go for it, but I’m betting you can dig a little deeper. So go on, swing for the fence on this one.

Photo by Lizette at  http://capturettephotos.com/

Make a batch of cookies and pass them out to your neighborhood. Read an extra bed time story to your kids. Cook dinner AND do the dishes—or if you always do the cooking and cleaning make someone else in the house so it.

If you’re a follower of Jesus like I am, you’ve got a light inside you this world needs. Do something with it. Don’t be content to hide it away or hold it back. Let it out into your everyday world.

Don’t overcomplicate it, and for goodness sake, please don’t make it weird. Just make it joy. Joy is life and joy is strength. Our world could use more joy. Be the ambassador of joy in your neighborhood, your marketplace, and your living room. Give it away like cake at a birthday party.

Everyday Difference

 “Make a life-giving difference in your everyday world.” That was the answer to the question I had never even realized I needed to ask: What do you want to do with your life?

As a man of faith, and family it can be really easy to pour my everything into those two things. But the simple and honest reality is I am more than a man of faith; and I more than a husband, Dad, son, brother, etc.. The two inform a major piece of me, maybe even the majority of me, but I am more—and so are you.

I mess this up a lot. There are entire days that meander by with my having made almost no difference for anyone whatsoever. Especially if I get caught in the self-reflective trap that’s so easy to slog my way into on occasion. 

However, what I really want is to leave everyday a little better because I showed up. I want every room to be a little brighter because I brought love there with me. I want everyone to know they are important.

I get it wrong a lot. I’m still learning a lot about this.  But I know my life is aimed at something bigger than I’m able to do on my own. I know I want to learn a little more, love a little more, and live a little more.

I want to do all of it in the company of the people who mean the most to me—and I want to invite as many as possible into this same adventure. High-fives, handshakes, and attaboys are the tip of the ice-berg. Let’s aim at the everyday difference we can leave in our wake when we love everyone the right way.

Let’s lay down our conditions. Let’s set aside stereotypes, hasty generalizations, and the mind numbing polarization that frankly most of us grew tired of months ago. Let’s offer a kind word, a neighborly gesture, and strong hand to those who need us.

Let’s get where we’re going in the glad company of everyone around us. Let’s do it together. Let’s make an everyday difference. What are we waiting for? 

With Thanksgiving

 Thanksgiving has always been an incredible holiday experience in my family. Food, family, and fun have always been the norm resulting in a lifetime of memories that have helped shape my values and direct my life. This has given me a thankfulness for my past that is rooted deep in my soul.

I realize that my experience is not the same as everyone else's. I know how blessed I am. I know that those like me who find the holidays to be refreshing and full of joy have something truly amazing to be thankful for. I try very hard on a daily basis to live in a way that does not take it for granted. This stage of life is showing me on a daily basis what I have to be thankful for right now, today, every day.

Last year Thanksgiving changed. We were at my parents' farm where I group up. It was early in the morning. We were getting to ready to have breakfast when we got the news. My father in law had passed away early in the morning hours before dawn.We were close. He would frequently supervise me as I tackled projects way beyond my skill set—offering up his expert advice and informed opinions—all smothered in generous helpings of his winsome sarcasm. 

Over the years I had come to love and appreciate our conversations. They were packed with questions. He would quiz me on different passages of scripture and I would share my opinions. We disagreed almost as much as not and I ALWAYS came away learning something even though I was the one being asked the questions. 

His passing hit me hard. He had become a second father to me. Of course I was sad, as most people are when losing someone they care for, but I was reassured by one simple passage of scripture that I have probably heard hundreds, maybe thousands of times.

“Enter his gates with thanksgiving; go into his courts with praise. Give thanks to him and praise his name.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭100:4‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A year ago that's exactly what he did. It was a reminder of the joy that awaits us. In an era of cultural uncertainty it has renewed in me a sense of thankfulness for the future.

Love: More or Less

 The cashier looks at us and says the words everyone hopes to hear standing in the checkout line. "I'll take the next in line over here" as she opens a new lane.

A man and his wife cut in front of our family at the grocery store. I'm holding my six month old son, he's crying, having exhausted all patience for this place. My oldest son is bouncing from rack to rack begging for candy. My wife has had a LONG week. Sick kids, crazy work stress, the pressures of ministry. How do we react?

Love. But it doesn't feel very lovely. In fact I have a rare talent for opening my mouth at all of the wrong times. And this is one of those times when I absolutely want to. But I don't. Truthfully it won't hurt us to wait a couple of more minutes—and I don't know what is going on with this young couple that they feel the need to rush in front of a dozen or so other people. 

Now, don't confuse love in this situation with quiet, or passiveness. In fact, never confuse love with quiet or passiveness. Sometimes loving someone means making A LOT of noise and getting right in their face to tell them the hard thing they need to hear. 

I work with people. Most of us do. I see people, talk to people, and help people daily. If I don't love them how can I fulfill what I believe to be my life's purpose? Really that's what this idea boils down to for me. 

Every day, in every situation, we have a choice to make regarding each person we interact with. We can choose to love them more, or love them less. 

Loving them more could mean extending grace, holding back judgement, and offering goodwill, but it could also mean correction or confrontation. We have to decide that. You know, like that famous Disney cricket from the 20th century said, "Let your conscience be your guide."

What does it mean to love people less? Well, don't we see the fruits of this on a regular basis? War and violence, disrespect and discord. 

In the absence of love there will be the presence of something. Some emotion. Some thoughts or feelings. I choose to fill my heart and thoughts with love toward others. I don't always get it right. But I'm aiming to love more, not less.

What about you? It's not a one time sweeping decision. It's an every day—every interaction—kind of decision. Choose. Because you can. Choose to love more, not less.

Thanks for reading,

Nate

Not Even A Little Bit

 How much does God want to see you suffer? Not even a little bit.

He is for, beside, around, inside you. A lot. It's his peace that carries you past the point of understanding the incomprehensible. His joy that flexes in the face of the frailty of our fear.

How much does God want to see you fail? Not even a little bit.

His Word is the way that lights up our every possible step. It shines into our every season. His Spirit is the still the small voice that pierces uncertainty and calms the raging of tumultuous emotion. 

How much does God want to see you quit? Not even a little bit.

His hope is our help. His Son is our sure thing. His favor our final word. His Church is our cheerleader. His mission is our motivation.

God wants every bit of who you are to love and lean into him. How much is he willing to leave to you for yourself? Not even a little bit.

Loving People On a Not-So-Lonely Mountain

 I hear crickets. Dogs call to each other across the ridges. A turkey gobbles off in the distance. The huge leaves of the banana tree my hammock is perched in on the side of this mountain rustle with the never ending breeze. After a scorching week in the sun the coolness of the continuous flow of wind borders on miraculous. It has been a week of weeks. Our team has been outstanding. They work and play with an energetic tenacity on par with their vivacious faith. Grace drips from these people like the sweat they have shed for seven days.

We have been to school after school playing with kids, performing skits, praying, speaking, loving. We have visited small churches, in the remote places of the Guatemalan Mountains where our people have preached the love of Jesus. We have given away food. We have built a wall. We have built a road. We've been busy. It's been good.

Busy and good are not always words I like to put together—but accomplishing the work, sharing the good news, and serving my friend Greg's ministry are both. Because busy can be good when it is purpose driven.

As I lay in my hammock staring out across the expanse of darkness at the closest ridge I can see the humble twinkle of distant village homes. The places that house the beautiful people of Guatemala.

I can rest full of faith in the one who sent us. I can sleep soundly satisfied in our pursuit of purpose. I never enjoy leaving my family behind—and under different circumstances would probably bring them—but even in my homesickness I can rest in the peace of God.

In Matthew 5:14-16 Jesus declares his followers to be as a shining city on a far dark night. That's our job. To take hope with us. We partner with powerful people of God in needed places. We are Gondor in the midst of Mordor. We are beacons among burdens—and bonfires among chilling darkness.

I have burned in my heart the desire to go to far places and far people because, as A.W. Tozer penned, "if my fire is not large it is yet real, and there may be those who can light their candle at its flame."

Deep Roots

  Today's my parents anniversary! God knew he'd have to put two amazing people together to come up with someone as epic as me... 

Joking aside, I'm so thankful for their values, authenticity, and faith—driven by a love and selflessness that has always modeled God's love better than anything else. Faith has always came easy to me. I have had a lot of people ask me why that is over the years. I never knew quite how to answer that question until today.  It's easy for faith to grow strong in your life when your roots run deep.

Say a prayer for them today when you read this. My momma is taking care of my brother who is still recovering from surgery and my dad is no doubt in a watermelon patch.  Thanks for reading. Go make a difference in someone's life today.

The Apologetic Muslim

Something both wonderful and sad took place earlier this week. I was hanging out with a large crowd of students in the minutes before a midweek worship gathering at our church when I began a conversation with a wonderful young man that I will call Tahm.

We engaged in several minutes of very interesting conversation about travelling and our common interest in helping others. As the conversation continued and the service drew near this delightful guy shifted gears. It was then, with apologetic tones, he felt the need to inform me that he was a practicing Muslim—and the look he gave me that followed was one I will never forget. It said, "how will you treat me now?"

In September 2001 I was wrapping up my first collegiate tour of duty, finishing up a degree in communications, journalism, & public relations. I was surrounded on a daily basis by international students at a time in my life when, overnight, our nation turned hostile toward almost anyone of middle eastern ancestry. I remember how ugly it was. How afraid everyone was. I remember my Pakistani friend Zishon was whisked away to a safe place off campus in a storm of confusion. Zishon was a Muslim too. He didn't identify with the hateful acts of violence perpetrated by those who claimed to share his faith.

That's what I remembered this week when Tahm shared his faith with me. He was afraid of my response. It broke my heart. He wanted to know if he was in a safe place. 

Do I have strong opinions about Islam? Absolutely. Should I allow that to influence my treatment of Muslims? Absolutely not.

Many, many, many, times in life I completely blow it. I let Jesus down. I fail to respond as he may have in a given situation. But I think I got it right with Tahm. I invited him to lunch. I expressed my genuine desire to get to know him. And then I walked him to the sanctuary myself as the service started.

Jesus said that he came to "seek and save the lost." (Luke 19:10) That my friends includes anyone and everyone. But how often, I wonder, do our responses to people's lives get in the way? How we respond to the vulnerability of those who walk into our lives says more about us than any sermon we can preach, book we can write, or song we can sing.

Thanks for reading. Let us know your thoughts in the comments.

Walking the Line

My wonderful grandpa's birthday is today. Much of my stubbornness and compassion came from him. I talked to him on the phone earlier and shared with him the name we have chosen for our second son, Jonathan Eli. At Thanksgiving he had announced to the family, pretty much out of the blue, that he had been thinking of that name. Today when I told him that we had in fact chosen that name for our son he said, "I know. I just told my sister Ruby on the phone." He was touched but not surprised.

Apparently he really did know. It was one of those inexplicable knowing by faith kinds of things. A measure of the movement closer to God I have seen in my grandpa's life in very recent years. The power of God's love has been hard at work in the lives of my mom's family. Prayers that were prayed for decades have been coming to pass in the wonderful work of God's mercy and grace. The culmination of a passage from the Psalms that has been really moving to me lately...

I'm finding my way down the road of right living, but how long before you show up? I'm doing the very best I can, and I'm doing it at home, where it counts. Psalm 101:2-3 MSG

My Papa has been an incredible example to me in my life. Not because of his perfection, because I have never been under such a false assumption where he was concerned. In fact, I have long since felt that his many flaws were so well known as I grew up that they always pushed me in an authentic direction. I struggled to actually be authentic much of the time, but the example was there. I never felt that he tried to be someone he wasn't. I never felt that he pretended. He was never fake. He was always himself. And he never apologized for it, perhaps another series of traits I inherited.

Like the classic country ballad his nephew Bob helped to make famous my Papa Wootton has always Walked the Line. Not perfect, but dedicated. Dedicated to his family. Dedicated to the things that matter. When I grow up I hope I can be just like him.

Happy Birthday Papa & Happy Valentine's Day to the rest of you.

Thanks for reading, Nate

The 3rd Lament: God's Great Faithfulness

When I think of Lamentations it's not usually a go-to source for encouraging scripture. But Lamentations 3:19-24 paints an incredible word picture of the beauty of God's love for us. I want to visit this wonderful passage over the next few days in hopes that it will encourage you as much as it has encouraged me.

... there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: GOD ’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with GOD (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left. (‭Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭19-24‬ MSG Emphasis Added)

How great is the faithfulness of God? Have you ever considered that question? I mean, after all, what is faithfulness? It is the condition of being full of faith. An ongoing permeation of belief in something.

God has great faithfulness. God permeates faith.

After all it is by him that we believe in him. It is by his words that we have faith. It his because of his great limitless love that we are adopted in.

God's faithfulness is not measured by moments, actions, or attempts. It is not defined by works, not even those wondrous things by which we come to him. God's great faithfulness is measured only by him. That is to say, God is inseparable from his great faithfulness.

He will always believe. He will always be the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of the unseen. (See Hebrews 11:1) Or as one translation puts it, he is our confidence.

God's great faithfulness is as reliable as he is. Always. He has great faith. Both in himself, and in his love for you. Yes, God's great faithfulness means something for you. It means God always believes in the you that you could be. Because the blueprint for your potential rests in the grace of God alone.

God's great faithfulness is pointed right at you.

The 3rd Lament: New Every Morning

When I think of Lamentations it's not usually a go-to source for encouraging scripture. But Lamentations 3:19-24 paints an incredible word picture of the beauty of God's love for us. I want to visit this wonderful passage over the next few days in hopes that it will encourage you as much as it has encouraged me.

... there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: GOD ’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with GOD (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left. (‭Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭19-24‬ MSG Emphasis Added)

Every morning. That's how often the prophet Jeremiah realized that God's mercy rolls back around. God's willingness to extend his love and kindness is in step with the dawn; and its always dawn somewhere.

Every morning the mercy of God is hand crafted. The creator of the periodic table preempts every element of grace you find yourself needing with the passing of each day. It's custom. For you. For everyone. For every situation.

In the face of such terribly compassionate love and mercy, how can anyone think themselves unworthy of God's affection. Forgiven much. Love much. (See Luke 7:36-50) That is the opportunity. That is the reality.

Custom grace. A love tailored for all humanity. That fits every individual. It's not a bandaid for your burdens. His is a lifeline for your soul. A legendary leg up.

Maybe that's exactly what you are needing right now? Failure has gotten old. The same tired patterns of behavior may have left you feeling a little more than broken. Well, the sun is always sweetest at dawn. Move out from the darkness of our own designs and embrace the caring nature of the Father.

Every day is a new day. A new dawn. A new chance to walk the path God has for you.