When You Are Frustrated Do This

It wasn’t a typical Monday morning. Not after twenty weeks at home in lock-down mode. School was here. Time to face the music.

We’d already made the decision to homeschool our oldest two. You might have read about that previously. But what about the little ones? What were we to do with our toddlers?

How would we navigate all four kids at home, fulfill all of our professional educational responsibilities, lead our congregation, and not lose our minds. Depends on who you ask. More than a few would say we lost our minds a long time ago. Which brings us back to this atypical Monday morning. 

All of us know what it’s like to be frustrated. There have been whole weeks (recently) when I hung out in frustration for so long I fully expected it to start charging rent.

I was frustrated this particular Monday. Why? Because we had made the choice to send our youngest two back to preschool. Not the source of my frustration. But I couldn’t actually walk them into their rooms. That was the source of my frustration.

I’m not knocking the staff or the school. We love our little preschool. King kids have been dancing down those halls for going on eight years—and before that Jamie taught there. It’s the best preschool in town.

I was frustrated because it was time to let go of something I was hoping I could hold on to for just a little longer. See it was my daughter’s first day.  She is seventeen months old. She has never spent an entire day away from Mommy with a stranger. And I didn’t get to be the one to take her to the stranger.

Did I mention I was frustrated? I was frustrated at the options in front of me. I was frustrated at handing that little pink sippy cup over before I was good and ready. Circumstances had wrenched reality right out of my hand. You’d be frustrated to.

You probably have been. These last few months have been repeatedly frustrating for so many of us. What’s ticking you off lately? It’s probably not hard to figure out. What’s that thing just under the surface that seems to make you simmer inside? Loss? Confusion? Missed-expectations? Your frustrations might come from something else entirely. I get it. We all have them.

We all know what it’s like to be frustrated. Frustration often happens where expectations hit a wall.

There we were standing in the preschool lobby. They checked our temps. I signed the paperwork. Everyone was masked up. And then it was time to hand over my children.

Matty took it like a champ. He was so excited to be back at school with his little friends. He was good to go with his Paw Patrol backpack and Ninjago lunchbox. 

Anna didn’t know what to make of it. She is seventeen months old. Do you know how many of those months she has spent at home with Mommy? Seventeen.

But it was time. Time to let her go where I couldn’t go. Seventeen months just seemed too young for that kind of milestone moment. Hence the frustration.

I handed her backpack, some diapers, a lunchbox, and sippy cup over to the director of the school. And then it was time to hand over Anna. She was stoic. She obviously didn’t understand what was going on. She didn’t react emotionally. Not like I wanted to. But she didn’t want me to hand her over either. She held on to Dad. She held on to the familiar. Familiar is comfortable.

Our frustrations will often stymie the next step forward. Even when we know one simple step could take us from comfortable to something better. It’s usually just one step. For you, and for the one needing you to make a move. I didn’t know what to do.

And then sweet little Matty stepped in. My rowdy, hyper, rough-and-tumble three year old said, “I take you, Sissy.” As he grabbed her by the hand and bravely walked her through the front door.

The moment wasn’t lost on me. My decisive nature is quick to lean hard toward the solutions I like, and bow up at the ones that irritate me. Sometimes reality yanks the choice away.

When frustration hits big and you don’t know how to handle what’s important you need help. You need a hand. I know I did. But you don’t just need a hand. You need a hand-off.

You might need a friend to meet you halfway and help you carry some stuff. Maybe you need a loved one to just pick up the phone. Or, perhaps you need the innocence of a three year old to take his sister by the hand.

Whatever your frustration, don’t let the circumstances make you overlook the opportunity. Take a hand when you need one. Give a hand as often as possible. Handing off what’s got your goat will help you take your next step forward. Probably the one that will untangle your agitations. Do it.

You might not even know what the hand you need looks like. For me, it’s my faith. The providence of a friend with good timing. Or, the certainty of something more than imagination can muster. Faith is good at steadying me in the midst of frustration.

Handing off frustration to faith doesn’t make me weak to reality. It makes me better at trusting God.

I’m thankful for big faith. And I’m equally thankful for the small hands that remind me. Not everything has to be epic. Sometimes God will simply show up and say, “I’ll take you.” He’ll even do it through a three year old.

Hand off your frustrations. You don’t need them anymore. Emptying your hands of frustrations will free them up for whatever help God sends your direction. I don’t know what it will look like for you. I only know he’ll do it. When he does—just go. Take the hand that’s offered. Let faith in something better lead all of the important stuff in your life. It will take you somewhere you’d never go on your own.

Would you let us know what’s been frustrating you lately? Maybe we can help? And if you think someone in your circle could use some help handing off their own frustrations please consider sharing this with them.

How We Chose Homeschool Curriculum

Photo by Giuseppe Lombardo

Parents, you are trying to make a hard choice right now. Life has been full of hard choices for the last few months. And now this one involves the most important people in the world—your kids. 

Last week Jamie and I shared our reasons for why we decided to homeschool our oldest two this year. That blog was everywhere. People all over the U.S. and in many other countries checked it out. Many reached out in some way.

We’re here to help. Because, even though we are teachers, when it comes to our kids we are students too. So we’ve been learning. We’ve been figuring out what will work for our family. And by we I really mean my amazing wife. I’m convinced Jamie is the smartest woman on earth. You guys can argue about the #2 spot all you want. #1 is taken.

We promised we’d be back with more to say via this platform that makes saying it and sharing it so easy. So here we go.

This is the curriculum we chose. And why we chose it. Our boys will be in third grade and kindergarten this year. So, our choices might not be much help to you. But I hope something here will help move you a little further down the trail as you sort this out for your own family.

We tried to keep this short. We’ll answer as many questions as possible. If you find this helpful please consider sharing it with someone who might need some help right now. And give yourself grace. We’re all students here.

We wanted a curriculum that satisfied four simple criteria.

1. It had to mostly align with Arkansas educational standards. Why? We believe in the public school system. We intend to return our boys to a public classroom in the future. So, we want to keep them “on track”. 

2. It had to be inexpensive because Daddy is a tightwad, and isn’t made out of Benjamins

3. The material had to be flexible. Have you ever tried to teach a five year old to read while changing a diaper, doing marriage counseling via text, answering an email about communication theory, and helping a distraught Boomer solve their problems in the middle of another Zoom Conference? We haven’t either, but we’re pretty sure we’re about to.

4. There was no compromise here for us. The bulk of the material had to be facilitated without a computer. We don’t want our children staring at a device all day. Period.

Here is the curriculum we landed on based on our four requirements. (Links to each are embedded in the subject title.)

1. SCIENCE: “Mystery Doug”
We paid $69 for one year of access. This curriculum also has free lessons to try. We tried it out with the boys and they loved it. Mystery Doug’s content aligns wonderfully with the recommended national science standards and schedule for each grade. As a bonus, it does have a computer based lesson component—so we are able to use it as an incentive for screen time that also doubles as school work.

2. SOCIAL STUDIES: Teachers Pay Teacher
We purchased a 3rd grade level download for $18.50. We will need to supplement some to meet Kindergarten standards. 

3. LANGUAGE ARTS: The Good and The Beautiful
Levels 1-5 are available to download for free. The “K Primer” is less than $35. Level K and Level 3 physical copies around $60 each. This curriculum is integrated to include multiple subjects. An added bonus for our family is the inclusion of Biblical references. We like the Bible. We are also using the Handwriting books from The Good and the Beautiful.

CAUTION: “Levels” aren’t really aligned to “Grades”. There are assessments to determine the correct level for your child. An advanced student might be on the same level as a grade. Whereas a traditional student might be one level below. Don’t let this psyche you out. It’s just a different metric for describing the desired development.

4. MATH: Math Mammoth and Jamie King
At the King Casa Academy Mrs. Principal Teacher Mom’s got this one covered. We are using Math Mammoth for most of Ethan’s 3rd grade material. Jamie is piecing together her own curriculum for Kindergarten. Why? Because she has approximately thirteen (I might be exaggerating) math and education degrees. There are plenty of good options available for someone feeling they need extra support in this area.

Now you know exactly what we chose and why we chose it. One the whole, there is a lot of good curriculum out there. Find the one that will help you accomplish what you’re aiming for with your kid.

We hope this helps you. As long as you have questions we’ll keep trying to lend a helpful voice. In the meantime share what you’re learning in the comments. How are you teaching your kids during this unique time?

When the Adventure You Want Is not the One You Get

At 6:34 am I rolled over to get out of bed. Not my bed though. A rented bed. We were on vacation.

I usually ignored my phone in the morning. The world doesnʼt deserve tolerating me before at least two cups of coffee. Tuesday was different. Maybe I was just out of my routine. Vacationed.

We picked the cabin we stayed in for many reasons. One of our favorite things about it is a total lack of cellular phone reception. AT&T hasnʼt discovered our little cabin by the creek, deep in the Ozarks. Paradise. But then I checked my phone.

Apparently iMessage can go where even Big Comm isnʼt welcomed as long as there is WiFi. Yes, our mountain escape paradise has WiFi.

Who would text me at five oʼclock in the morning? Mom. “Brian is at the hospital. They are admitting him.” My brother was fighting cancer and things had taken a turn for the worse. I spent the next two hours contacting people asking them to pray.

The kids had woken up. They were excited about the hike Jamie had planned for the first day of our illustrious hillbilly getaway. We were out on the porch picking at our pop tarts when I remembered something inside we needed for our adventure.

I went to get it—only to discover the door was locked. The glass door. The one without a keypad. All the doors with keypads were still dead bolted because we hadnʼt used them yet. *insert facepalm emoji*

What did we do? We loaded up the van with children and adventurous expectations. What could go wrong?

We travelled miles down the kind of road my dad used to take me down as a kid. The kind Burt Reynolds and Elisa Dushku would have been terrified to discover in their hillbilly horror movies. Why? We were looking for the trailhead to an obscure waterfall Jamie had found online. It was the kind of adventure where the only living things you expect hope to see are trees and squirrels.

At 10:30 am we piled out of the van and had a picnic on the ground. As we concluded our meal we readied ourselves to head into the bush. Then I heard something that changed everything. It sounded like a roar.

In rolled a thunderous biker gang like the Hillbilly Sons of Hell.

Just kidding.

The roar was more of a whisper. And the news being whispered was our impending flat tire. Yikes. The air was steadily leaking out. I suddenly regretted taking my really nice floor jack out of the van to make more room for Ethanʼs Pokémon Cards.

Did we even have a jack? Did we have a spare tire? Holy Goodyear, Batman. We did.

We jacked up the car. We replaced the faulty rubber with our pristine donut. Sure we had to convince Matty he couldnʼt take a bite out of it, but we got it on. It looked better suited for a lawnmower than a Dodge Caravan, but what did I know about tires? Covering our tiny wheel in prayer and absurd expectations we drove back at half the speed of smell.

Several careful miles, and what felt like hours, later we were at a tire shop. While awaiting our turn, Uncle Brian called from the hospital. Had our tire not deflated weʼd have missed the call. Jon prayed for him over the phone. It was one of the most tinder serene moments Iʼve ever experienced.

The people at the shop were colorful and friendly. The Salt of the Earth kind of people I am more comfortable around than almost anyone else in this world. The proprietor reminded me so much of my late father-in-law I was instantly at ease. Except for the dog.

There was a beautifully obese brown lab lying six inches from where they had jacked up our van. I was pretty sure it was dead. I wanted to check for a pulse but didnʼt know where to find one on such a fat dog. I looked to see if it was breathing. Nothing. Stuff was leaking out of its head. Nevermind. It was just an abundance of drool mixing with abandoned motor oil. Then the metallic squeal of a torqued lug nut seemed to resurrect the dead dog with a twitch.

Jamie and I rested in the shade of an old oak tree surrounded by older tires and our four playing children. Thunder boomed. For real this time. But the promised storm played out like presidential campaign promises and fizzled fast.

Soon the mechanic walked over to announce our car was finished, “I donʼt know where yʼall went, but I wouldnʼt go back ifʼn I were you.”

“Wouldnʼt go back...” I started, which he took as a question.

“Yeah, man. Ya had eight staples in one tire and a nailʼn tha other one. But we patched ‘em both up for ya. Thatʼll be ten bucks.”

As in ten dollars? I couldnʼt believe it. I handed him a twenty and we drove away. That feeling Iʼd had since 11 am, the one promising impending nervous vomiting, finally went away.

What did we do to celebrate? Ice cream of course.

We found a local ice cream shack. Walked to a nearby park. And stuffed ourselves until frozen dairy comas felt imminent.

We drove back to our cabin. The realtor helped us get back inside. And, after hot dogs, and a giant glass of Gatorade we played in the creek until sunset. And we did it all together.

Bumps in the road arenʼt a lot of fun. Flat tires, disappointments, and certainly cancer are enough to ruin anyoneʼs day. Iʼve let a lot less ruin my share of the calendar.

Missed expectations, like missed turns, take us where we didnʼt plan to go. Sometimes going forward feels like a slow drive on a tiny misfit tire. Often it feels like nervous hurl trying to climb the back of your throat. Itʼs a sure sign something went sideways. Youʼll know youʼre there when life starts to feel upside down.

When I get upside down over something itʼs almost always because I tried tackling it solo. Solo is rarely the best adventure. Together is always a better adventure.

Whatever surprising adventure smacks your agenda embrace it with both arms. And then invite all the arms at your address to lean in and get some of the action. Life is gonna toss you a lemon more often than youʼd like. When it happens, donʼt just make lemonade. Make enough for two. Adventures are sweeter that way.

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.

Parent Stuff: The Weight of Grace

 In 2011 I had the incredible opportunity to travel to the Arkansas State Capitol at the invitation of then Lieutenant Governor Mark Darr. My responsibility that day was to open the afternoon session of the 88th Assembly of the Arkansas State Senate in prayer. I had thought long and hard about the words I would pray over those important lawmakers. Here is an excerpt from the prayer I prayed that day.

"God, my fervent hope today is that you would help them to continue to hear—not just the voice of their constituents, but your voice as well. God grant them the wisdom to make sound decisions and the discernment to understand the far-reaching implications of those decisions."

I don't remember what was on the docket for the day. But I know that each man and woman in that chamber was responsible for representing a body of people they had chosen to serve. Their actions—no matter how small, or even seemingly insignificant, carried weight. What they discussed, conclusions reached, votes cast. It all mattered. It all made a difference. The molding of the law was akin to working the clay of civilized society.

What about you? In your world you may be the lawmaker. You may be making the rules of the house. You might be passing down mandates and dictating decisions that shape the days, months, or years to come. If you're a parent or guardian of a child you better believe this is true.

Your every decision, reaction, omission, and word have weight. The things you do will echo in the future of your child. The things you don't do will echo just as loudly! The point I'm trying to make is that you have a responsibility. It is holy. It is God-given. It is authority. It is blessed. It is vital.

The implications of your every action are so important. I wish I could say I always get it right. I love my boys so much. But not an hour ago I was sending my three-year-old off to bed with a much harsher tone than was probably necessary. 

Parents, do you feel the weight of the life you hold in your hands? I hope so. Does it keep you up at night sometimes? I hope so. I think it should.

Now. Stop holding your breath. Unclench a little bit. Relax. Breathe deep. After all, you're not perfect. Yes, your every action and inaction as a parent matters. But you're never going to get it all right. But guess what? It's alright. After all, who better to guide you through your imperfectness as a parent than the perfect parent?

Ask God to help. Go ahead. Ask him right now, I'll wait.

Now, doesn't that feel a little bit better. Ok,maybe it doesn't yet. But long before you became responsible for guiding this little human being through the obstacle course of life God set your memories into motion. The first steps, the first fight, the crying, joy, gladness, serenity, and taxing anxiety of parenthood...God has already experienced all of it, for everyone, ever. Whoa!

He's right there in the middle of your mess waiting for you to ask him to make it better. I love my boys "to the moon and back again" as one of our favorite bedtime stories goes, but I'm so far short of the perfect parent.

Thank God I've got God. He's in the mix. He's helping in the moments when I want to duct tape my son to his bed and scream at the wall. He's there rejoicing when I get it right! He's there when my heart hurts over a poor decision I have made. After all, there's grace for that.

Yes, there are far reaching implications for your every action but God's actions can reach farther than yours. There is a weight to grace.

Baby Eyed Faith

   I have always had strong faith. Faith just comes really naturally to me. That isn't to say that I have not gone without struggles. And I find myself deep in doubt more often that I am comfortable admitting. But overall I am quick to grasp faith in God, his goodness, and his personal impact on both my eternal and temporal my well-being. But I know after countless conversations over the years that I am not necessarily the norm in the faith department. Staring into our one month old son's eyes last night I started thinking of this verse from Matthew's gospel in a different way. 

And he said: "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3 NIV)

My son Jonathan is a month old. This early in his development his vision is roughly 20/400. He sees nothing but a blur past the twelve to eighteen inch mark, and colors are largely something he will not even begin to appreciate for three more months. What does this have to do with faith?

Jon doesn't have to scramble, cry, and worry for everything in his life, it is provided for him. He doesn't have to fret for his safety and well-being. It is provided for him. All my son has to do is sit back and be. 

He just has to be my son. The very fact that he lives and breathes, that he is mine, bestows upon him the guarantee for protection and provision given to the fullest measure of my ability.

Even in my easy approach to faith there are moments of darkness. There is apparent blurriness. There are times when I do not have the answers and no answers seem forthcoming. Those are the moments when even walking by faith seems impossible. 

In those moments we must simply be. We must belong to the Father. We must realize that just being his guarantees us the fullest redemptive measure of provision and protection that is His to muster, which is all of it.

It's yours. Just be His kid. 

That doesn't guarantee you a steep bank account and a lavish life. But it is an unshakable eternal promise worth SO MUCH MORE.

Welcome: A Letter to My Son on His First Day in This World

  

Welcome to the world son. It's a lot different out here, huh?

It's big. And cold. And wonderful.

Sometimes it can be scary. Sometimes it can be miserable. But it is also beautiful.

Everything is new. Not as new as you. And not as cool as you, but it's all new to you. And you're new to everything.

There are quite a few people who have been waiting to meet you. Some of them are pretty awesome. They have already been in love with you for a while.

Your mom, brother, and I are crazy about you. We've been talking about you and getting ready for you for months. We've prayed for you every day together.

You're a little brother now. And big brother has been really excited about you!

You're a grandson, nephew, and cousin too—and those are all names that come attached with more awesome people who love you a whole lot.

The one mommy and I are most excited about though is the name son. We welcome you into this world because you're our's. We both get to love you, teach you, and help you.

You don't know it yet but you're a minority now. Not every sweet little boy or girl has a mommy and a daddy. And while we're not anything that special we are yours. And you are ours. And we promise to do everything we can, the best that we can, as often as we can. It'll have to do because you're stuck with us.

So welcome to this world. It's crazy (I think I already mentioned that but it is worth repeating). I can already tell how awesome you are. My little gift from God.

You're going to grow up to do some pretty amazing things. Just try not to grow up too fast ok?

Waiting

Parenthood comes with lots of "waiting" time. This isn't something anyone warns you about. Not saying there's a lot of calm time just waiting.  Waiting at practice, waiting for potty time, waiting on food to cook or cool (isn't that funny that we have to do both).  Waiting at the doc's, waiting for a phone call, waiting...waiting... Waiting.

Maybe that's why pregnancy comes with so much waiting.  Waiting on a positive test result.  Waiting to tell everyone until you're ready. Waiting for nausea to subside. Waiting to find out what you're having.  Waiting at the docs.  Waiting on test results. Waiting on your water to break.  Waiting on contractions.  Waiting to push.  Waiting on birth.

Having had my first child after being induced at almost 42 weeks I did a lot of waiting.  Now here I am waiting again.  God designed pregnancy to be a certain length of time for different creatures.  Why does ours have to be so long?  Why do we have to wait? And why is it so hard?

Waiting can do one of two things to you.  It can exhaust you or revive you.  We have to LEARN to be good "waiters."

Isaiah 40:31 speaks of the good kind of waiting.

31 But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

But we often see people who react quite differently to the waiting.  Who impatiently demand change or anxiously blame the waiting on something.  What is different?  Okay let's be honest we all are these "bad waiters" sometimes.

So what can we do?  Shift our focus and be content.  Paul talked about learning to be content in all circumstances.  Not accepting of status quo but so rooted in Christ and so trusting of His plan that you can accept what comes your way.  You can search the scripture but Jesus didn't follow a "traditional life schedule," write out a to do list, or whine about the demands of the job.  No he consistently fed those around him and then turned around and spent time with His Father.

So let us focus on serving while we wait. Let us remember the things we allow our minds to dwell on have power in our life.  As Paul wrote:

Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies. (‭Philippians ‭4‬:‭8-9‬ MSG)

Harmony and peace while waiting.

Vomit, Crying, & Gratitude

Last night was a rough one in the King house. Our 12 month old son Ethan came down with some kind of stomach bug out of the blue. One minute he was happily soaking up Sesame Street with his mommy on the couch and all-of-a-sudden he was vomiting like crazy. Yeah, I know that's gross. Sorry. It was a mess, but that was the least of our concerns. Our little boy was sick. To compound the issue I had to leave for our weekly ministry gathering shortly after the ordeal began. This went on throughout the night. My wife would try to get some fluids in him to prevent dehydration, but his little body would reject them, and up they came. He got splotches on his tummy that indicated the onset of dehydration. It was scary. We prayed a lot. I was largely distracted during our service. My mind kept going back to my little boy. After service was over I made my goodbyes and headed to the pharmacy to get some special juice that is supposed to help with that kind of situation. It did. He drank it, and kept it down. He drank some more, and kept it down.

Jamie and I took turns sitting up with him on the couch throughout the night. We slept sporadically. When morning came it seemed his energy had returned. He laughed, he played a little, and then.... he cried.

It wasn't a cry of pain, or a whimpering wailing of discomfort. It was the kind of short bursting cry that comes from being just a little spoiled, something that I am completely ok with at his age. And while I am usually easily annoyed by prolonged bouts of crying, especially during my more cranky moments, this morning was different. I was grateful. I was just happy he had the energy to cry.

Sometimes something that is annoying, aggravating, or challenging can actually be a reason for rejoicing. Yes, life is sometimes hard, but often our attitude has the power to shape the perception of our experience. Today, I'm grateful for the grace to see with gratitude.

I Know Him

When I close my eyes I can see my son's face. The dimples. The smile. I can hear his precious little giggle, and the way he flaps his arms when he gets excited. I can remember the soft feel of his skin when he throws his arms around my neck for a hug or reaches out his tiny hand to grab mine. He is my son. I know him. I am wonderfully blessed to be able to work in a career that affords me a generous amount of time with him every day. I relish every precious moment of it. At this point in his young life, I know everything there is to know about him.

I've spent a lot of time in ministry teaching, preaching, and training people to join their heart to their mind in "knowing God". Something I've spent much less time thinking about is how well He already knows me. My needs, my laugh, my idiosyncrasies, and guffaws. He knows all that could, would, or ever will be known about me.

For some that line of thought may be potentially terrifying. I find it gloriously freeing. We spend so much time in this life playing to the mob, trying to appease the expectations of those around us, fearful that they may discover us for the phonies that we are.

How amazing that God, who knows me, died for me, not just in spite of myself, but to bring me around to an altogether different destiny. I am His. He knows me.

3:16

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life. John 3:16 The first time I memorized those words I was the lead in my church's Christmas play, and I was just a little kid. It was a fun play. I was really young, but I enjoyed my role. I never forgot those words, but it was only during my teenage years (when the infamous wrestler Steve Austin coined his trademark Austin 3:16) that I realized how well known this verse was. And then a couple of years ago Tim Tebow put the reference in his face paint during the NCAA National Football Championship game. Google reported 92 million searches for John 3:16 during and immeditely following the game.

My point is that this is an incredibly familiar passage. One that has made its way into our culture in a variety of ways over the years. For me, it's a verse that I have read, quoted, written, and heard probably thousands of time in my thirty-plus years, but it wasn't until recently that I actually understood it at all. I mean, people have been telling me for years what it is supposed to mean. I have even told others what it is supposed to mean. I've blogged about it, preached about it, designed t-shirts utilizing it, and broadcast it--but; even though I've been a Christian for over half of my life, it's never really been much more than some evangelical mantra we like to bandy about as we proselytize those around us. It is so much more than that.

I had a good family life growing up, and consider that actuality an incredible blessing knowing that to be more the exception than the rule these days. Because of my home life, grasping the notion of being a son of God, like the Bible teaches, was never much of a stretch for me. It was an easy part of the faith for me to comprehend, believe, and communicate. It's only within the last month, and to a lesser extent the previous nine, that I began to be able understand the Gospel from a Father's perspective.

And that brings me back to John 3:16. This verse we've probably all heard so much. As familiar as it is, it is incredibly challenging, confusing, and wonderful. God loved you and I so much that He gave away His only son. I can tell you right now, I could never do that. It doesn't matter who we are talking about: my best friend, my wife, my mom, brother, students, anyone...everyone. If given a choice to save them and yet condemn my child there is no real choice. My child gets first priority every time.

But God, being infinitely sovereign and immeasurably wise, contrived a means by which He could give up His own son to excruciating torture, so that He might open the way to redemption and restoration for all of His sons...and not only did the one die to save the rest, but the firstborn of all creation rose again through the power of the Father.

I'm going to do the best I can in this life to be the best father that I can be, but only God the Father can give and save at the same time. Incredible.