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Chris Fabry's Blog, page 12
February 13, 2012
Hearts Wrapped Around A Pole
I suppose the people at the adult bookstore thought it was a good idea. Entice a few new patrons with some innocent looking helium balloons. What they came up with was the perfect metaphor. A mirror to the soul.
Valentine's Day is upon us. I know because the card aisle at Target is nothing but red. Chocolate everywhere. Hearts. Love. Pink, too. That store is already red, so when this time of year rolls around it looks like an abattoir. (Fancy word for a slaughterhouse.)
But it was what I saw outside the adult bookstore that caught my eye. I know it's an adult bookstore because on the side of the street is a crudely drawn sign that says, "Adult Bookstore." They are not subtle. I drove past with my youngest daughter and glanced that direction and saw two helium-filled, heart-shaped balloons tied to a lamp-post in front.
The store itself was what you'd expect. A square building. Bars on the windows. Not too many windows. A parking lot in the back, I suppose. The front door was close to the dirty street. Not a soul in sight. Keep things hidden. Keep windows covered. But present a welcoming atmosphere with red, heart-shaped, helium-filled balloons on the pole in front.
As if you could find life behind those doors.
As if you'd find any kind of love. Or use something inside to show love to someone else. An adult bookstore takes much more than it ever gives.
The wind wasn't just blowing on that Tucson street, it was howling and the tether to each balloon had wrapped around the pole as far as they could go, causing the balloons to fold in on themselves. They were just misshapen forms, hardly recognizable as hearts, crinkled and undefined.
The intent was this: "Come inside, we can give something good, something to spark your love life. Even if you don't have a love life. Come inside."
The reality of the metaphor was closer to the truth" "Come inside and your heart will get wrapped around a light pole."
I suppose there are many with hearts wrung out and wrapped around light poles. The divorced woman who hasn't had a Valentine card in years. The divorced man who experiences the same. Or, perhaps they laugh and drink and try to numb the pain. Choices. Wrong turns. A heart given freely wrapped around a light pole. I read a blog over the weekend by a spurned woman who didn't know if she'd get a Valentine card this year. Another heart broken.
Maybe it's the single woman who has longed for someone good and has only found bad apples. Or a single man who has kept himself as pure as he can who feels like he waits in vain.
Valentine's Day is one of the happiest observances of all, but peel back the layers of lives and you'll find something else. Deep inside is a longing. Maybe frustration. Desire. Disappointment squared.
All of this is good to recognize. The longing and desire and frustration point to something true and real. We were built for relationships. We were created to live in harmony with others and ourselves. We were made uniquely human and the heart remains restless until it discovers what it has always longed for.
And in the process, a lot of us get wrapped around light poles and our hearts get torn apart and crinkled.
No matter how badly misshapen your heart may be, it is still a heart. It is still beating. And if it can hurt, if it is in pain, that means there's hope. Even wrapped around a light pole outside an adult bookstore there is still hope.
Valentine's Day is upon us. I know because the card aisle at Target is nothing but red. Chocolate everywhere. Hearts. Love. Pink, too. That store is already red, so when this time of year rolls around it looks like an abattoir. (Fancy word for a slaughterhouse.)
But it was what I saw outside the adult bookstore that caught my eye. I know it's an adult bookstore because on the side of the street is a crudely drawn sign that says, "Adult Bookstore." They are not subtle. I drove past with my youngest daughter and glanced that direction and saw two helium-filled, heart-shaped balloons tied to a lamp-post in front.
The store itself was what you'd expect. A square building. Bars on the windows. Not too many windows. A parking lot in the back, I suppose. The front door was close to the dirty street. Not a soul in sight. Keep things hidden. Keep windows covered. But present a welcoming atmosphere with red, heart-shaped, helium-filled balloons on the pole in front.
As if you could find life behind those doors.
As if you'd find any kind of love. Or use something inside to show love to someone else. An adult bookstore takes much more than it ever gives.
The wind wasn't just blowing on that Tucson street, it was howling and the tether to each balloon had wrapped around the pole as far as they could go, causing the balloons to fold in on themselves. They were just misshapen forms, hardly recognizable as hearts, crinkled and undefined.
The intent was this: "Come inside, we can give something good, something to spark your love life. Even if you don't have a love life. Come inside."
The reality of the metaphor was closer to the truth" "Come inside and your heart will get wrapped around a light pole."
I suppose there are many with hearts wrung out and wrapped around light poles. The divorced woman who hasn't had a Valentine card in years. The divorced man who experiences the same. Or, perhaps they laugh and drink and try to numb the pain. Choices. Wrong turns. A heart given freely wrapped around a light pole. I read a blog over the weekend by a spurned woman who didn't know if she'd get a Valentine card this year. Another heart broken.
Maybe it's the single woman who has longed for someone good and has only found bad apples. Or a single man who has kept himself as pure as he can who feels like he waits in vain.
Valentine's Day is one of the happiest observances of all, but peel back the layers of lives and you'll find something else. Deep inside is a longing. Maybe frustration. Desire. Disappointment squared.
All of this is good to recognize. The longing and desire and frustration point to something true and real. We were built for relationships. We were created to live in harmony with others and ourselves. We were made uniquely human and the heart remains restless until it discovers what it has always longed for.
And in the process, a lot of us get wrapped around light poles and our hearts get torn apart and crinkled.
No matter how badly misshapen your heart may be, it is still a heart. It is still beating. And if it can hurt, if it is in pain, that means there's hope. Even wrapped around a light pole outside an adult bookstore there is still hope.
February 9, 2012
The Dog Before Me
Dappled and drowsy I drove my kids to school and kept the radio off driving home so I could think. Quiet and peace and a restful heart are things you must fight to gain. They don't come easily.
Thinking. Ideas about competing stories are crowding other things. Important things. Big decisions about life loom. Fear and anxiety spin like a top in my heart and the quiet and relative peace amplify the angst.
I came to an intersection and a truck whizzed past. I pulled behind it and followed. A Chevy. Long bed. Newer truck with a tinted rear window. A dog in the back.
This is not uncommon in Arizona. Lots of people haul dogs in the back of their trucks. They roam free in the back, watching, waiting.
The sun warmed the cactus and cholla now. It revealed dirt on my windshield I didn't know was there. But I could see the road and the dog. He had short hair, a long tail, and looked ready for the hunt. It looked like a dog that could point at a rabbit or duck in some marshy field.
The dog paced from one side of the truck bed to the other. It craned its head around the driver's side, then did the same on the passenger side. Then it stopped in the middle and looked through the tinted window at the two figures in front.
Back and forth, back and forth, tail wagging, wind blowing his ears. Around curves he braced himself and tried not to skid. Vigilant, exuberant about life, prepared for what was ahead, ready.
I stared at the Chevy emblem on the back and the license plate. The dog was being carried along by a power and force he didn't understand. He had no concept of the engine, the plugs and points, fuel, combustion, or lubrication.
Perhaps the dog felt that by moving from one side to the other he was controlling things, creating momentum. Perhaps he felt all his nervous energy aided the journey. I'm not sure what went on in the dog's head. Perhaps he was simply passing the time and waiting until he could jump.
I can scarcely know what goes on in my own head when I see such a thing.
Thinking. Ideas about competing stories are crowding other things. Important things. Big decisions about life loom. Fear and anxiety spin like a top in my heart and the quiet and relative peace amplify the angst.
I came to an intersection and a truck whizzed past. I pulled behind it and followed. A Chevy. Long bed. Newer truck with a tinted rear window. A dog in the back.
This is not uncommon in Arizona. Lots of people haul dogs in the back of their trucks. They roam free in the back, watching, waiting.
The sun warmed the cactus and cholla now. It revealed dirt on my windshield I didn't know was there. But I could see the road and the dog. He had short hair, a long tail, and looked ready for the hunt. It looked like a dog that could point at a rabbit or duck in some marshy field.
The dog paced from one side of the truck bed to the other. It craned its head around the driver's side, then did the same on the passenger side. Then it stopped in the middle and looked through the tinted window at the two figures in front.
Back and forth, back and forth, tail wagging, wind blowing his ears. Around curves he braced himself and tried not to skid. Vigilant, exuberant about life, prepared for what was ahead, ready.
I stared at the Chevy emblem on the back and the license plate. The dog was being carried along by a power and force he didn't understand. He had no concept of the engine, the plugs and points, fuel, combustion, or lubrication.
Perhaps the dog felt that by moving from one side to the other he was controlling things, creating momentum. Perhaps he felt all his nervous energy aided the journey. I'm not sure what went on in the dog's head. Perhaps he was simply passing the time and waiting until he could jump.
I can scarcely know what goes on in my own head when I see such a thing.
February 5, 2012
What Are You Looking At?
It's Sunday morning and the sun is coming up over the Rincons. Cactus reflect the rays and there's a wind, cool and inviting. I'm finally able to see outside here at the Cactus Compound and write with a view instead of wall-locked in the small room where I broadcast.
I can see the back of a STOP sign on a street a couple hundred yards away. I can see brown ridges of plant-life and trees that dot the mountain a few miles away. Or I can focus on the gravel and sand in the back yard. The scrub oak. Cholla. A rabbit making its way through the brush into the wash.
It's really my choice. I can choose to focus on the ding in my Viewsonic monitor, the one put there by a friend who was helping me set up my office a few years ago, or I can look at the clouds. The sky is usually clear and blue and runs forever, but today there are rippling clouds that look like cotton.
I can focus on my empty coffee mug, the stack of credit card bills, or the black and white pup that has brought life to our beleaguered souls.
They say happiness is a choice. So is love. And if you fill your life with both, you'll find yourself looking. Seeing. Even in the desert.
I can see the back of a STOP sign on a street a couple hundred yards away. I can see brown ridges of plant-life and trees that dot the mountain a few miles away. Or I can focus on the gravel and sand in the back yard. The scrub oak. Cholla. A rabbit making its way through the brush into the wash.
It's really my choice. I can choose to focus on the ding in my Viewsonic monitor, the one put there by a friend who was helping me set up my office a few years ago, or I can look at the clouds. The sky is usually clear and blue and runs forever, but today there are rippling clouds that look like cotton.
I can focus on my empty coffee mug, the stack of credit card bills, or the black and white pup that has brought life to our beleaguered souls.
They say happiness is a choice. So is love. And if you fill your life with both, you'll find yourself looking. Seeing. Even in the desert.
January 30, 2012
The More You Shop...
Life happens at the most curious times. The more you shop, the more you want to … live.
I heard that on the loudspeaker of the store this weekend where I went with my daughter. The more you shop, the more you… Then the name of the store. This particular store had "given us" $30 in free money.
Really?
Was that really free, or a reward for purchasing X amount previously? And then banking we'd never use it. I don't know, but it brought us back on the last day to use the "free money" to buy a dress.
So there I was, outside the girl's dressing room, milling around like a man without a country.
"Additional cashiers to the Misses register, please," someone said over the intercom. There were quite a few people lined up down at the Misses register. At first I thought they were occupying the place.
Young women flitted in and out of the dressing room as I awaited my youngest daughter. The last little puppy to wear a dress has gone from princess to PRINCESS before my eyes. Just last week she was playing with Breyer horses and dolls. Now she's singing Adele songs and is as tall as her mother.
"Additional cashiers to the Misses register, please," the person said again, with an edge to her voice. It almost felt like, "The more you people shop, the more it stresses me out!"
Fashion jeans. Flip flops. Ear rings. And all that perfume. To a chemically sensitive dad, this is like entering a twilight zone I will never escape. But for her, and for the love of $30 worth of "free money," we were here.
I wanted to go to the intercom and say, "There's cake and ice cream for all employees over at the Misses register."
My daughter emerged with the dress in her hand and a smile. "It fits!" she said.
"How much?" I said.
"It's marked down from $58 to $33."
"Well, let's head over to the Misses register and see what all the fuss is about."
We ambled over and there were only a handful of people ahead of us. A manager turned a light on above a register and shook her head.
It's funny how much life you can see while waiting. And the pink dream with ruffles and frills was a mere $4.35.
What an investment.
I heard that on the loudspeaker of the store this weekend where I went with my daughter. The more you shop, the more you… Then the name of the store. This particular store had "given us" $30 in free money.
Really?
Was that really free, or a reward for purchasing X amount previously? And then banking we'd never use it. I don't know, but it brought us back on the last day to use the "free money" to buy a dress.
So there I was, outside the girl's dressing room, milling around like a man without a country.
"Additional cashiers to the Misses register, please," someone said over the intercom. There were quite a few people lined up down at the Misses register. At first I thought they were occupying the place.
Young women flitted in and out of the dressing room as I awaited my youngest daughter. The last little puppy to wear a dress has gone from princess to PRINCESS before my eyes. Just last week she was playing with Breyer horses and dolls. Now she's singing Adele songs and is as tall as her mother.
"Additional cashiers to the Misses register, please," the person said again, with an edge to her voice. It almost felt like, "The more you people shop, the more it stresses me out!"
Fashion jeans. Flip flops. Ear rings. And all that perfume. To a chemically sensitive dad, this is like entering a twilight zone I will never escape. But for her, and for the love of $30 worth of "free money," we were here.
I wanted to go to the intercom and say, "There's cake and ice cream for all employees over at the Misses register."
My daughter emerged with the dress in her hand and a smile. "It fits!" she said.
"How much?" I said.
"It's marked down from $58 to $33."
"Well, let's head over to the Misses register and see what all the fuss is about."
We ambled over and there were only a handful of people ahead of us. A manager turned a light on above a register and shook her head.
It's funny how much life you can see while waiting. And the pink dream with ruffles and frills was a mere $4.35.
What an investment.
January 25, 2012
Fighting the Big Chocolate and Big Greeting Card Monopoly
The Countdown to the 7 days of Valentines has begun. It's January 25th and I've wracked my brain for gifts. I made a purchase online and it came in the mail, but alas she opened it and saw what I had chosen.
Season 6 of the Mary Tyler Moore show, the one with the "Chuckles Bites the Dust" episode. She apologized and seemed pretty excited about the gift. Maybe she'll forget it by the time February 8 rolls around.
If you don't know this game, it was enacted several years ago when the kids were little. I do 7 days of Valentines because, to be honest, one day just has too much pressure. If I spread my choices out over 7 days, I show her I'm thinking of her, I know her, I'm working on knowing her better, and what woman doesn't want that kind of thought put into a holiday cooked up by Big Chocolate and Big greeting card? Can you imagine how much money they rake in during February? I think there should be some kind of governmental commission looking into this.
But I digress.
Each day I print the number of the day—on February 8 it will be, "Day 1 of the 7 days of Valentines." Then, on another sheet, I print a clue as to what the present might be. For example, if she hadn't opened the video, I might have said, "This will bring a smile and maybe a chuckle." She would never have guessed it, but there would have been a huge smile when she saw the video.
This year I have a file on my desktop "Andrea presents 2012." I have a list of ideas, things I come up with during the day that may work, others won't. Some are simple, a poem, a song, an idea for a video. These don't cost anything but my time and thought and some effort by my children. Others are gifts I may purchase. Small things. Nothing extravagant, but all thoughtful.
If you're looking for a good project this Valentine's Day, 7 days wouldn't be a bad idea. Be creative. Think. And see what happens in your own heart as you head toward February 14.
Season 6 of the Mary Tyler Moore show, the one with the "Chuckles Bites the Dust" episode. She apologized and seemed pretty excited about the gift. Maybe she'll forget it by the time February 8 rolls around.
If you don't know this game, it was enacted several years ago when the kids were little. I do 7 days of Valentines because, to be honest, one day just has too much pressure. If I spread my choices out over 7 days, I show her I'm thinking of her, I know her, I'm working on knowing her better, and what woman doesn't want that kind of thought put into a holiday cooked up by Big Chocolate and Big greeting card? Can you imagine how much money they rake in during February? I think there should be some kind of governmental commission looking into this.
But I digress.
Each day I print the number of the day—on February 8 it will be, "Day 1 of the 7 days of Valentines." Then, on another sheet, I print a clue as to what the present might be. For example, if she hadn't opened the video, I might have said, "This will bring a smile and maybe a chuckle." She would never have guessed it, but there would have been a huge smile when she saw the video.
This year I have a file on my desktop "Andrea presents 2012." I have a list of ideas, things I come up with during the day that may work, others won't. Some are simple, a poem, a song, an idea for a video. These don't cost anything but my time and thought and some effort by my children. Others are gifts I may purchase. Small things. Nothing extravagant, but all thoughtful.
If you're looking for a good project this Valentine's Day, 7 days wouldn't be a bad idea. Be creative. Think. And see what happens in your own heart as you head toward February 14.
January 20, 2012
The End
Two of the best words in the English language are: The End. I wrote those yesterday after an odyssey of several months. I began a story called Borders of the Heart on 8/24, but that's not true. I started it long before that in my head without even knowing it.
The process of writing is mysterious. I've been asked a few times to teach a class or give a seminar and I've done it for elementary, middle and high school classes. The kids who were there seemed to get something out of it, but to be honest, I don't know how to teach writing. I know rules of grammar. Most of them, anyway. The important ones. I've read many books on writing and plotting and dialog and telling a story well, but I don't really comprehend it. So I've held back on teaching and concentrated on doing. Maybe one day I will try.
As I tell you I've ended one story, another is beginning. Writing is something one must do constantly if one is to fund one's family. So as I end the process of this story, one I finished last year is coming to the stage. I'm very excited about the story of Truman Wiley. I think it's going to change some lives because I believe we all have a Truman in our life. And in some ways, we're Truman.
I'll tell you more about him soon, but if you want to see a book trailer for the book that is releasing, click here and go down to the video on the right.
The book is called Not In The Heart. It's probably the most exciting, painful, honest, true story I've written for adults. True in the sense of capturing characters that are struggling greatly with the people and circumstances of their lives. Okay, I'll stop.
Is there something you've been allowed to do in life that you feel inadequate to teach? Keep doing it. Maybe one day you'll write about it.
The process of writing is mysterious. I've been asked a few times to teach a class or give a seminar and I've done it for elementary, middle and high school classes. The kids who were there seemed to get something out of it, but to be honest, I don't know how to teach writing. I know rules of grammar. Most of them, anyway. The important ones. I've read many books on writing and plotting and dialog and telling a story well, but I don't really comprehend it. So I've held back on teaching and concentrated on doing. Maybe one day I will try.
As I tell you I've ended one story, another is beginning. Writing is something one must do constantly if one is to fund one's family. So as I end the process of this story, one I finished last year is coming to the stage. I'm very excited about the story of Truman Wiley. I think it's going to change some lives because I believe we all have a Truman in our life. And in some ways, we're Truman.
I'll tell you more about him soon, but if you want to see a book trailer for the book that is releasing, click here and go down to the video on the right.
The book is called Not In The Heart. It's probably the most exciting, painful, honest, true story I've written for adults. True in the sense of capturing characters that are struggling greatly with the people and circumstances of their lives. Okay, I'll stop.
Is there something you've been allowed to do in life that you feel inadequate to teach? Keep doing it. Maybe one day you'll write about it.
December 9, 2011
Going Home For Christmas
On our program of 12/9, I gave some thoughts about going home at Christmas as a Christian.
1. You were created by God as a unique human being. Don't try to be Billy Graham, Ravi Zacharias, Josh McDowell, Erwin Lutzer or any other famous apologist.
2. You arent' going to argue people into heaven.
3. Relax. It's not all up to you. We each need to do our part, but ultimately the results are in God's hands
4. GOING BACK AT CHRISTMAS IS AN ACT OF FAITH
5. Don't be afraid to have fun at Christmas. Rejoice. Let your friends and family see that you have a life worth living.
6. You don't have to be the holy spirit to your friends and family.
7. Questoins are always better than statements.
8. Listen. Maybe this is the Christmas you really listen.
9. Jesus came into the mess of life. Don't be afraid to go into the mess of your family.
10. Pray pray pray. What could happen to your gathering if you prayed for those individuals?
11. If someone makes a snide comment about your faith, don't make it a big deal. Jesus said they would hate you because of him. Take it in stride and don't make this about you.
12. What does love look like here?
On the night of his birth, love looked like a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.
When he was 12, love looked like submission to his mother and father.
When he was 30, love looked like being baptized and being in submission to the father.
Love sometimes drives out money changers.
It also touches lepers.
Love sometimes looks like weeping with others, as he did at Lazarus' tomb.
Love sometimes looks like standing up to the religious zealots of the day who want to shackle people with their rules and regulations.
Love sometimes looks like forgiveness…for as they drove the nails in his feet and hands, he was forgiving them.
How will you be Jesus to those around you this Christmas?
But remember this: The success or failure of your trip back cannot be judged on the response of the people you're trying to reach. Look at what happened to Jesus. In some cases he was a huge failure, at least from a human perspective. People ran him out of town, threw him out of the synagogue for his teaching. Crucified him. Is that success?
Well, I'm praying you'll have a Nicodemus moment with a friend or family member. But if you don't have one, don't be discouraged. Be faithful in what God asks you to do. And LEAVE the results up to him.
1. You were created by God as a unique human being. Don't try to be Billy Graham, Ravi Zacharias, Josh McDowell, Erwin Lutzer or any other famous apologist.
2. You arent' going to argue people into heaven.
3. Relax. It's not all up to you. We each need to do our part, but ultimately the results are in God's hands
4. GOING BACK AT CHRISTMAS IS AN ACT OF FAITH
5. Don't be afraid to have fun at Christmas. Rejoice. Let your friends and family see that you have a life worth living.
6. You don't have to be the holy spirit to your friends and family.
7. Questoins are always better than statements.
8. Listen. Maybe this is the Christmas you really listen.
9. Jesus came into the mess of life. Don't be afraid to go into the mess of your family.
10. Pray pray pray. What could happen to your gathering if you prayed for those individuals?
11. If someone makes a snide comment about your faith, don't make it a big deal. Jesus said they would hate you because of him. Take it in stride and don't make this about you.
12. What does love look like here?
On the night of his birth, love looked like a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.
When he was 12, love looked like submission to his mother and father.
When he was 30, love looked like being baptized and being in submission to the father.
Love sometimes drives out money changers.
It also touches lepers.
Love sometimes looks like weeping with others, as he did at Lazarus' tomb.
Love sometimes looks like standing up to the religious zealots of the day who want to shackle people with their rules and regulations.
Love sometimes looks like forgiveness…for as they drove the nails in his feet and hands, he was forgiving them.
How will you be Jesus to those around you this Christmas?
But remember this: The success or failure of your trip back cannot be judged on the response of the people you're trying to reach. Look at what happened to Jesus. In some cases he was a huge failure, at least from a human perspective. People ran him out of town, threw him out of the synagogue for his teaching. Crucified him. Is that success?
Well, I'm praying you'll have a Nicodemus moment with a friend or family member. But if you don't have one, don't be discouraged. Be faithful in what God asks you to do. And LEAVE the results up to him.
December 8, 2011
Behind Enemy Lines
I don't see a demon behind every rock or bush. But I am aware that we are living behind enemy lines. And the enemy does not want a message of hope and freedom to gain any traction.
Tuesday, after the program, I wasn't feeling well and decided to take a nap. About six hours later I finally got up because I HAD TO GET UP, if you know what I mean. A flu bug, food poisoning—I don't know, but I had little strength to get out of bed and go to work.
Which caused me to think of how fragile we really are. As Rich Mullins sang, we are not as strong as we think we are. Bacteria can fell us. We are weak, vulnerable creatures at best.
Others in the family faced trials. Last night, Andrea despaired. She's worked so hard and feels like there's very little to show for all that work.
That's when I put things together. Despair can sometimes signal an attack. It makes you want to stop, retreat, or just give up. But an attack means you're on to something good. An attack means you're beating back the enemy of our souls.
Perhaps it's because I've been talking about marriage and trying to give hope to those who have little. Yesterday, I spoke with Janet Parshall about the book, A Marriage Carol, and a woman named Chris called in tears, her marriage in tatters. She can't trust her husband any longer because of a Facebook romance. How does she move forward?
I'm not sure I gave a good answer, but I spoke from the heart. I tried to point her to the one who is in the restoration business. The one who calls the dead back to life. Pray for Chris and her husband. Pray for those around you who are struggling with their marriages, especially church leaders. They are surely under attack.
I'm still not at full strength. Haven't eaten anything in two days and have no desire to eat anything for the rest of my life. But I probably will because I know I need my strength to do whatever God calls me to do. May he give us the grace to live behind enemy lines today.
Tuesday, after the program, I wasn't feeling well and decided to take a nap. About six hours later I finally got up because I HAD TO GET UP, if you know what I mean. A flu bug, food poisoning—I don't know, but I had little strength to get out of bed and go to work.
Which caused me to think of how fragile we really are. As Rich Mullins sang, we are not as strong as we think we are. Bacteria can fell us. We are weak, vulnerable creatures at best.
Others in the family faced trials. Last night, Andrea despaired. She's worked so hard and feels like there's very little to show for all that work.
That's when I put things together. Despair can sometimes signal an attack. It makes you want to stop, retreat, or just give up. But an attack means you're on to something good. An attack means you're beating back the enemy of our souls.
Perhaps it's because I've been talking about marriage and trying to give hope to those who have little. Yesterday, I spoke with Janet Parshall about the book, A Marriage Carol, and a woman named Chris called in tears, her marriage in tatters. She can't trust her husband any longer because of a Facebook romance. How does she move forward?
I'm not sure I gave a good answer, but I spoke from the heart. I tried to point her to the one who is in the restoration business. The one who calls the dead back to life. Pray for Chris and her husband. Pray for those around you who are struggling with their marriages, especially church leaders. They are surely under attack.
I'm still not at full strength. Haven't eaten anything in two days and have no desire to eat anything for the rest of my life. But I probably will because I know I need my strength to do whatever God calls me to do. May he give us the grace to live behind enemy lines today.
November 21, 2011
A Wreath Observed
What's the best Christmas present you can give your kids this year? In iPad? An e-reader?
The other day in the car, Colin asked if we could get a bigger Christmas tree. The one we chose is puny, evidently. I think he wants more room for presents.
That caused me to think about what I really want to give them. I love giving toys, trinkets, gadgets, and giz. I love giving books and gift cards and musical instruments. I love the feeling of watching them open a present and seeing the recognition on their faces that someone knows them, sees inside their souls well enough to get that DVD or pair of woolen socks.
But the truth is, the greatest gift I can give my children can't be placed under a tree, no matter how big it is. The greatest gift I can give my family is a commitment to my marriage and the fortitude to work on that relationship no matter what.
On the cover of the book, A Marriage Carol, there is a Christmas wreath. And below that, the door knocker is in the shape of an engagement ring. These circles represent something that will last, something that has no end. The contents of the book, we hope, will encourage couples to continue the struggle, continue to fight for their marriage even if things seem bleak.
If your relationship is frosty, cold, or almost dead, all the trinkets, toys, and gadgets in the world will not make your kids happy. Their real happiness comes in the security they feel with two parents who are committed enough to each other not to quit, but to humble themselves and go to work.
If you're married, give the gift that will keep giving to your children, your friends, everyone around you, and also yourself. Give the gift of commitment.
No wrapping paper or bow needed.
The other day in the car, Colin asked if we could get a bigger Christmas tree. The one we chose is puny, evidently. I think he wants more room for presents.
That caused me to think about what I really want to give them. I love giving toys, trinkets, gadgets, and giz. I love giving books and gift cards and musical instruments. I love the feeling of watching them open a present and seeing the recognition on their faces that someone knows them, sees inside their souls well enough to get that DVD or pair of woolen socks.
But the truth is, the greatest gift I can give my children can't be placed under a tree, no matter how big it is. The greatest gift I can give my family is a commitment to my marriage and the fortitude to work on that relationship no matter what.
On the cover of the book, A Marriage Carol, there is a Christmas wreath. And below that, the door knocker is in the shape of an engagement ring. These circles represent something that will last, something that has no end. The contents of the book, we hope, will encourage couples to continue the struggle, continue to fight for their marriage even if things seem bleak.
If your relationship is frosty, cold, or almost dead, all the trinkets, toys, and gadgets in the world will not make your kids happy. Their real happiness comes in the security they feel with two parents who are committed enough to each other not to quit, but to humble themselves and go to work.
If you're married, give the gift that will keep giving to your children, your friends, everyone around you, and also yourself. Give the gift of commitment.
No wrapping paper or bow needed.
November 18, 2011
Books I've Been Given
Here are the books we talked about on the program 11/18. These are books mentioned by listeners and me we have been given over the years that made a difference:
The Baxter Family Series by Karen Kingsbury
The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren
A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
Jesus Loved Them
Strength for the Journey by Joseph Stowell
Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers
Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby
Love must be tough by James Dobson
The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers.
Facedown by Matt Redman
This Present Darkness/Piercing the Darkness Frank Peretti
Trusting God Even When Life Hurts by Jerry Bridges.
The power of a praying wife by Stormie Omartian
The Fight, John White
The Effective Father by Gordon MacDonald
When Daddies Go to Heaven
Roget's Thesaurus
Authentic Beauty by Leslie Ludy
The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers.
The Baxter Family Series by Karen Kingsbury
The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren
A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
Jesus Loved Them
Strength for the Journey by Joseph Stowell
Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers
Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby
Love must be tough by James Dobson
The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers.
Facedown by Matt Redman
This Present Darkness/Piercing the Darkness Frank Peretti
Trusting God Even When Life Hurts by Jerry Bridges.
The power of a praying wife by Stormie Omartian
The Fight, John White
The Effective Father by Gordon MacDonald
When Daddies Go to Heaven
Roget's Thesaurus
Authentic Beauty by Leslie Ludy
The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers.
