the one reason you'll never be better.

There is an undeniably regular reason why not much farther beyond six days into the new year your infant-aged resolution is already in trouble.  In fact, if you haven’t already abandoned all resolve to welcome in the new, better you, you’ve at least hit the snooze button once.  Each year, scores of folks partake in the ritual of making commitments they will not keep.  Maybe it’s the overindulgence of the holidays or the mistakes of a year passed that drive people to muster the resolve to be different.

Statistically, most people resolve to lose weight or to save more money.  Statistics also show that these same people will probably make the same resolution once again this time next year.

If I separated my made resolutions into two piles, the followed through pile would be quite a bit less substantial than the pile of resolutions transformed into results.  Had I held to my resolutions of old, I would have run a marathon, journaled enough for at least six books, learned two languages and probably would be a much nicer person.  But I’m not.  While enraptured in romantic notions of me becoming that much better in doing these things, I haven’t accomplished any of them.  I gave up too soon and ended pursuit for something far less glamorous and interesting, typically television.  If television were a reputable resolution, my effort would certainly be talked about.  As I writer, I’d love to say books rather than television, but that’s the better me that I don’t usually live to be. 

We all stand staring at the beginning of a new year wanting to be different, hoping for drive to marry desire and live forever in our metamorphosed lives.  And those years and wants just pile up higher.

There’s a reason this doesn’t work out for you.  If you are anything like me, and I’m willing to bet you are, at least a little, the busyness of your life is all about you and being some better, more accepted, heralded, acclaimed and noticed version of who you’ve been.

Better is, well, better.  People love being better.

We are addicted to the idea of who we think we could be or should be, or must be in order to be okay and appeased, but it will never end.  We feast on the idea of some better version of who we should be while we starve ourselves in the empty wanting.

Here’s a help: you’ll never be who you’re not, now.

But it’s quite a bit deeper and more disturbed than adopting a self-actualized mantra.  Calling out in resolutions made to achieve and discover a better you is a calling out for home and to belong.  I want to be better in hopes that I might be more at ease with my restless self and feel accepted and loved.  That is the root and reason for most resolutions in my life.

There is but one fix for this void - Jesus.

For a lifetime we can experiment with happiness and search for the kind that sticks to our bone, but Jesus alone can satisfy.  Just as he assured a soul thirsty woman looking for life in sheets that he could provide quench for her thirst, so can he for us.  All we must ever do is to stop our pursuit of lesser things we think will guide us to a better version of ourselves.

Make a resolution.  Resolve that the answer will never, ever be discovered within your flesh and blood and bone.

In these six days into a new year, cease the empty busyness of achieving a better version of yourself.  Instead, be found in him, drink deeply of his grace and go satisfied.

Jesus doesn't fix anything.

(image credit: Virginia Wieringa)

in a manger still and obscure hidden beneath a star shone bright swaddled in ancient words and found by foreign men bruised heal before lungs even drew a quiet night diseasing evil forever

after all, bruised beats broken and that’s what the angels were singing to shepherds, to wise, to whored and to falsely whole

    we swallow brokenness like the drugs keeping us afloat     our heads nod in restlessness and the receiving     our hearts return us to the well to see the seer

and so this is Christmas all white in the absence of snow our hearts pushed in, and we know the bruises beat the broken

holy night, hushed and aglow promise’s arrival to a heavy handed world time a refugee in the camp Grace swallowed the Virgin knows what mothers do not: how to hold the King of Angels O, come let us adore him, Christ, the Lord

Christmas comes earlier once again.  Sales announce the season and joy fills our hearts.  It seems as though more of Christmas is lost in commercialism each year.  The story, faded into well balanced nativity sets sold for shelves and lawns grows more native in an adapted knowing that Christ came so we spread good will and cheer.

But look at the night.  Jesus doesn’t fix anything.  In fact, things get worse; a lot worse.  The king of the moment feels threatened at the report of foreign wise men arrived to see the foretold promise under a star.  So the king commands all babies under the age of two be found and murdered.  The people of the foretold promise bleeding again under the tyrannical rule of other men.  I’d say things worsened. We’ve heard the story bookended by Christmas and Easter unfold - the child grew.  The story builds anticipation as some realize the Promise arrived in a manger, grew into a man, touched people like God.  He gathered the bruised and buried the broken.  And then the story reaches climax with his public, gory death - worsened once again.  A strong shift of circumstance happens in Jesus’ resurrection, and then, a sort of to be continued hangs as those closest to him watch him ascend into the heavens.

And here we are.  Holders of the promise awaiting God’s glorious arrival, as a people once did.  So much of our world is broken; our very lives broken, too.

What if Jesus comes hushed again, undetected in our world obsessed with its own healing, demanding all must be whole before all can be all right?

Jesus doesn’t fix anything.  He comes.

Into the worst conditions, among a family gone amok, through the unchangeable circumstance of death and all the more that can go wrong, Jesus comes right into the middle where you are and abides.

And so, this is Christmas, this is Advent, this is promise and this is Jesus.  O, come let us adore him and belong to a Savior come and not a known cure.

3 Keys to Surviving Christmas

I remember the drug Christmas was - the twinkling lights, vintage sounds of seasonal classics, the humming of sugar coursing through my veins, the inexplicable phenomena of dancing sugar plums, roving schoolmate conversations on just how Santa could possibly do all that he was credited with doing, oh, and the free soaring elation of dreams come true in the days leading to Christmas morning.  It was the feeling that anything could happen; Santa a slave to our desire.  Christmas reigns as king of all days for most kids when all wanted is translated and understood in all received.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

Poor old St. Nick pimped by consumerism as a delivery mechanism for desire equals happiness, receiving trumping giving and individual, again, escalated above all others.

As a parent, I’ve always felt rather infringed on by the ol’ jolly guy from the North Pole when on Christmas morning Santa is adored for fulfilling my daughters’ wish list.  After all, where in the world was he when I waited in eternal check out lines, braved armies of latte laced moms hellbent on getting their shopping carts through the most precariously tight spots and wasted away late night creating mosaic wonder with wrapping paper always cut too short?!  Tucked away in stories, songs and magical tradition, sipping a piping hot peppermint mocha.  Always the winner and well used to the adulation.  Good spot, Santa.

There’s much to be said about the shimmering fantasy that Christmas both is and is not.  First, there’s December 26th when the world finally exhales from Black Friday and Christmas morning.  Decorations look worn, work resumes and we remember that Christmas feels more like an extended dream than an intentional celebration.  Then there’s the facade Christmas can be when nurturing an ethereal fantasy of the most wonderful time of the year distorts happiness and ensures unmet expectations.  There’s just no way that everything will always tie together perfectly like a Hallmark family movie special - someone will get in an argument, the turkey will be too dry, the day will move too fast, you will undoubtedly receive a gift causing you to wonder if the giver even knows you, etc.

For many, the idea of Christmas will again outshine the actuality and history of the celebration.

Promise fulfilled.  Sin’s grasp threatened in the breath of a baby foretold.  Redemption personified in the God-man rising from the poorest of poor.  Man’s heart barred from the garden open-armed welcomed into the Kingdom.

In our home, we accept Santa as part of Christmas, along with Christmas trees, lights hanging from our house and gifts, but the story to own them all is that of selfishness ushering in emptiness and brokenness and the unrelenting, decided love of a Father who stops at nothing to make all as it should be again.  Advent sets a right rhythm to our observance of Christmas.  We don’t wrestle to keep the Christ in CHRISTmas.  Advent reminds us to rest in the irrevocable promise of Christ both now and always.

It simply is so easy to live at a ferocious pace in the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas day, and in doing so, the season shrinks to a blur of tinsel, shopping lists and seasonal have to’s.  As a result, Christmas really does come and go in the twinkle of an eye.  There’s so much more to the season that can completely serve as a foundational building block to your children's developing world.

As a means of surviving the hustle of the holidays, I’ve discovered three keys to fully engaging in Christmas as a family.

Set expectation Each year we start at the beginning again.  Before the nativity came the need.  Four Sundays before Christmas we set expectation with our need for Savior that began all the way back in the garden when Adam and Eve broke away from God and clung to themselves and desire.  The waiting in brokenness through time and promise spoken in ancient prophecies leads us to nativity where Jesus entered time humbly.  Everything else about Christmas seems to appropriately fall into lined priority as proper expectation is established each year.  I want my kids to celebrate and experience the magic and elation of Christmas as a result of God’s promise.

Have a Plan As a means of not being pushed forward too fast by the busyness and bustle of the season, we try very hard at being picky about what we do and what we don’t do.  Just this past weekend, Marissa and I sat down to plan and layout our family activities for the month.  This has helped me in two distinct ways.  Having a schedule for our family events helps me focus on enjoying family instead of trying to do everything.  Maybe more important, having a plan is helping me actually save money during the Christmas holidays while enjoying our time more meaningfully.  One in three families will push themselves into debt during the Christmas season in an attempt to buy happiness in presents and experiences.

Honor traditions As our kids grow so does our activity.  What needs to be maintained throughout the year is family and home, a place to belong and return to.  We maintain family and home in our held traditions.  There’s nothing elaborate about most of our traditions.  During the holidays, the girls always expect movie nights, hot cocoa and Christmas cookies in addition to our family Christmas tree decorating and their little sisters’ Christmas tree decorating event where they have full reign over their own three foot tree.

Christmas can be a mixed bag for many people depending on past experiences, both highs and lows.  It’s important to remember to always set the expectation of Christ as both reason and lasting promise as the season begins.  In doing so, you and your family will experience joy independent of the hustle and the bustle of Christmas.

joie de vivre, a thanksgiving.

a smile connected to the sun known by shuffled steps and a beaded brow all waited for all breath held for all hope hesitated for fulfillment, rest oh, and sleep the Sun faithful truer than truth known

:::::::

It’s been awhile since I’ve smiled without effort and rested in the day here without waiting for another.  That’s the day I know now, full of hope and the knowledge that no matter the circumstance, hope perseveres, founded in the faithfulness of a God who knows no stopping or uncaring.  Other days will crash ashore with uncertainty and challenge, but the faithful learn that trust is best perfected in unnavigable waters.

Ten days into marriage and my heart couldn’t be more thankful - thankful that God gave me the tenacity to not let go in the pursuit of hope and happiness and the strength to cross from one life to another.  And joy overflows.  Marissa emanates a blinding beauty all of her own accord, but will forever echo hope in a way my heart hears especially because of God in the binding of us.  In today and into tomorrow, we will walk hand-in-hand, through thick and thin, matching love and smiles in each wave that crashes upon us all because of Something much bigger than us, bigger than death and life.

And so, this is a simple thank you, a public testament honoring God for never letting me become lost within myself or too afraid of each crashing day into me following my first wife’s death some three years ago.

You must allow yourself to be found, throw open the blinds and welcome in thankfulness, and then you will be there found and free.  Unprejudiced thankfulness is the fruit that hangs on the branches grafted into God by grace.  For then, nothing can thieve the joy of living.

We all have much to shout thanksgiving for.  Raise your glass, friend, in the thickest and thin.

me, set an enemy of my daughter's heart

Often lately, we’ve found ourselves there stuck between emotion and disappointment.  Tears threatened to fall from her reddening, yet stubborn eyes as she stood before me while doing her best not to look directly at me.  I leaned over her lording big controlling words meant to strip down her actions to unthoughtful disobedience aimed to hurt and defy.

There we stood, worlds apart screaming at the moon wanting love without give trouncing on delicate soil uninvited yet demanding so long to lullabies equaling love I know she loves me.  She knows I love her, but there are times lately when I feel absolutely lost parenting Elizabeth, my oldest.  The fact that she’s only approaching her teen years intimidates me, especially when others are quick to respond that I should brace myself for when she is a teenager.  And the waves won’t quit as my younger daughters race to break on those teen shores, too.  As we near then, the joke of owning an escape cabin visited monthly sways further from comedy and closer to reality.  Until I own a cabin, patience must be cultivated in my thorny heart.

“There will be times when you won’t like me very much, and I need you to understand that I’m okay with that.”

Patience hangs from a branch rooted in love and there my heart finds clarity and returns to Christ-led parenting.

In times overrun by emotion and disappointment in my shortcomings as a parent and her defiance as a child, I grow impatient and irate and steal moments from guiding love sharp enough to cut through the most mired emotional tangles.  Simply put, I am my own worst enemy as a parent when my love is based more on my kids liking me than me loving them.  And by loving them, I mean caring enough to wage steady war against their little hearts set selfishly inward, evidenced by possessive pronouns littering their speak.  The real challenge is in separating from my own selfish heart enough to let the love of Christ guide me as a parent rather than my heart mercenarily demanding obedience for love.

Love doesn’t demand; obedience blooms in a heart loved so well.

Like a veteran gardener plucking weeds from good soil, I vigilantly remind myself to hold higher value to where we’re going instead of how we’re getting there.  And this is important to remember, for it’s easy to get lost in wanting to be loved back by your children.  If I will love her defiant heart well, I must set myself as an enemy to her heart.

Practically speaking, her tears shouldn’t shape the way I love her, neither should her accusations of me not understanding her and not caring about how she feels.  My role is to lead her through fierce times where Love will be saving grace.  Lots of parenting can be left to positioning - how I position my heart, will determine how I’m able to reach through innate selfishness that plagues their little hearts as it plagues and preys on all human hearts.  My goal is to set them free, free to love truthfully.

In short, parenting is the most difficult thing an adult will ever aspire to do.