A Lesson from the Brokenness

May 19, 2013 in Ministry - Theology, Personal Reflections with 0 Comments

This morning I was reminded of something.

Let me back up.

This morning wasn’t my best morning. I am fully aware that what I describe as “wasn’t my best morning” describes a quality of life most others only dream of, but nevertheless, it wasn’t my best morning.

I came to church feeling, if you’ll pardon the cliché, broken.

Some of it was physical. My left shoulder ached from a recent injury that has rendered me unable to swim or lift weights. My left knee ached from an older injury that has rendered me unable to run or bike. I was on the heels of a fitful night’s sleep- one that included plenty of tossing and turning, a 2:00 a.m. wake up by a toddler who had clearly had a bad dream, and a 5:00 a.m. wake up to text a friend to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make it to watch the beginning of his triathlon that morning as I’d promised, but that’d I’d be there to watch him run and watch him finish. And I just didn’t feel right. You know the feeling- achy, somewhat upset stomach, a little nauseous. It’s a feeling that causes some alarm bells to go off when several people you know have been pounded by the flu lately. I wondered if it was coming for me.

And as I stood there we sang these words:

You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of dust.

Words that- as I discovered this morning- are more poignant when you feel like dust.

Some of it was emotional. I know my troubles pale in comparison to the troubles of others, but at times they wear me out nonetheless. The reason I had to cancel heading to the starting line of the race this morning was that I couldn’t leave my wife alone with our toddler. She’d hurt her back the previous afternoon, and even in the evening she was in tremendous pain. The sort of pain that makes it impossible to care for a toddler, or even remove him from his crib. The toddler in question is having his share of issues as well, dealing with some itchiness that we suspect is a reaction to a medicine he’s taking. It’s tough seeing the people you love the most hurt like that.

Then there was me, and what my injuries represented. They were a reminder of what I wasn’t doing that morning. I wasn’t participating in the race. In fact, my dreams of doing a half Ironman alongside my friend were derailed before they could even leave the station. This nagging knee injury has lingered without a clear diagnosis for nearly six months. I was never even healthy enough to train. I was so happy for my friend, and I wanted so badly to be out there. And then there was the tension of where I am career-wise. At once incredibly grateful for the opportunity I’ve been given at SUCH an amazing church, but also disappointed that I’m not doing more to support our family financially. I was also thinking about the message I was to preach that afternoon. It was done, but it just hadn’t seemed to come together like I’d hoped.

All of these things- and a few more- combined to create an uncharacteristic weightiness in my usually jovial soul. Because this weightiness was so uncharacteristic, it added to the tension. ‘What’s the matter with you? Quit whining, sheesh,’ I thought to myself.

And the music kept playing, and we sang songs with words like these:

You’ve never failed, and you won’t start now.

I may be weak, but Your Spirit’s strong in me. My flesh may fail, my God you never will.

I will call upon Your Name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine

Give me faith, to trust what you say, that You’re good, and Your love is great

Words that are more poignant when they are fervent prayers from a person all too aware of his brokenness.

And then our worship leader read these words from Scripture:

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:26)

Words that are more beautiful when you need to know how true they are.

Even as I write this what I’ve written seems a little silly. I have a remarkably charmed life, one that brings me near constant joy. To be loved by God, my family, and friends, and to have the opportunities to do the things I do on a daily basis is evidence of unfathomable grace in my life. How dare I ever complain about a thing?

But the truth is, the dark days come. For pretty much everyone. They’re rarely rational.

And I was reminded this morning that sometimes we need the dark days to be reminded that God is enough.

I am weak.

My flesh and my heart may fail.

I may be dust.

But His Spirit is strong in me, and you.

He is the strength of my heart, and yours.

And He does make beautiful things.

 

More than Basketball: Why the Kings Staying in Sacramento Matters to Me

May 16, 2013 in Family Life, Uncategorized with 0 Comments

For many years when I was a kid my dad shared Sacramento Kings season tickets with three other guys. That meant each year he would get tickets to ten games, and of those ten games I would get to go to four or five (one of the drawbacks of having siblings).

And when I was growing up those days were high holy days as far as I was concerned. There were few things I looked forward to more than going to those games, and it’s funny to think about the snapshots from those nights that have remained through the years.

I remember sitting in the nosebleeds in the early years. I remember hoping the coach would put in Joe Kleine- a 7-foot white guy who only played when the game was decided, but who inexplicably had become my favorite player.

I remember asking my dad all sorts of silly questions about what was and was not allowed in basketball, reflecting my overly-literal interpretation of the rule stating defenders weren’t allowed to touch each other (Can they do thiiiiiiis????).

I remember when we finally got to move down to section 108 and sit behind the basket in the lower bowl. We were still 25 rows up or so, but it felt like we were court side.

I remember one game against the Dallas Mavericks went into double overtime. Walt Williams made a running shot down the lane at the buzzer to win the game, and the place went bonkers.

I remember another game against the Miami Heat. Mitch Richmond hit a three-point shot from the corner to tie the game at 98 at the end of the first overtime, and the Kings went on to win.

I remember bringing three one dollar bills to the arena because there was a place on the concourse where you could pay three dollars, shoot three free throws, and if you made two in a row you got to take the ball home (Looking back on it, the ball was likely not worth three dollars, but to seven year-old me that didn’t matter).

I remember the time when I was very young when we got half way to the arena before my dad realized he’d forgotten the tickets. We only saw about half of the game against the Celtics that night.

I remember if the game wasn’t on a school night Dad would let us stay for the post-game interview on center court. I’m not sure why I thought it was so cool, but I sure did.

I remember going to a playoff game my senior year of high school. We had long since given up our season tickets, and I thought I was much too cool to care about the Kings anymore, but I went anyways. I can summarize the experience by saying I later wrote a column for my school paper entitled “Best Fans in the NBA Provide Real Entertainment at NBA Playoff Game”. The Arco thunder was loud that night, and it gave me goosebumps. There is something special about hearing the Sacramento crowd roar.

More than anything, I remember Kings games being a time to hang out with my dad, to talk on the way to and from the games, to pester him with my silly questions about basketball, and to make memories together. My dad has talked about how those games- and all of those experiences rooting on the Kings together- were great memories for him as well.

And that’s what I was thinking about yesterday, as I was sitting in a coffee shop in Carmichael. I was working, but I couldn’t help but take a break to listen to the commissioner’s press conference where he announced the Kings wouldn’t be moving.

I listened as a fan, but more than that, I listened as a dad.

I listened as a dad whose oldest son is only now able to say “basketball” when he sees basketball on TV.

I listened as a dad dreaming of years in the future when I would get to take my boys to Kings games. I listened as a dad dreaming of sitting on the couch with my boys- cheering on our team, suffering through loses together. I listened as a dad who remembered what the Kings meant to him and his dad growing up, as one who remembered how many conversations took place while watching the Kings together.

And so for me, the Kings staying is about much more than basketball. It’s about fathers and their sons, me with my boys, families learning together to take pride in their team and their community. After moving back to town this summer, I made it to four games this year- three with my dad and one with my brother. Each time I saw mothers and fathers with their young kids. I saw the looks on those kids’ faces as they sat next to their parents and watched their heroes on the court.

It looked very familiar.

So there are surely more important things I will teach my boys than how to root for our crummy basketball team.

I will teach them about God and about life and about how to get along with people and about how to love difficult people and how to pray and about the sort of girls they should date and not date and about how to throw a baseball and how to get into college and how to bounce back from disappointment and a million other things.

Conversations about those things will happen at the dinner table and on the hiking trails and in the family room and in the backyard.

But I anticipate many of those conversations happening in the car, on our way to a Kings game.

That’s why the Kings staying in town matters to me.

 

Hesed: A Staying Kind of Love

May 5, 2013 in Family Life, Ministry - Theology with 1 Comment

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God!” -Psalm 36:7

When the Old Testament talks about the love of God, it uses a particular word.

Hesed.

Heh-said.

I’m not a Hebrew scholar, but I know enough to know we don’t have a perfect English translation for the word. The ESV, and other translations say, “steadfast love”, the NIV and NLT say, “unfailing love”. You get the idea.

The Bible describes God’s love as a staying kind of love.

So often in our culture love is, frankly, selfish and cheap.

It’s selfish because we use the word “love” to describe our feelings towards people who make us happy. Of greater concern, when those same people cease to make us happy, we cease to love them. It’s as reasonable as it is concerning.

It’s cheap because I love In n’ Out (sure I’m a recent convert to vegetarianism, it doesn’t mean I have amnesia). I make a concerted effort to be very selective in my use of the word “love”, but everyone so often I will slip. I will say I love the UCLA Bruins, or my Vitamix blender, or Yosemite National Park, or a small handful of television shows.

After all, those things do make me happy.

Sometimes.

Culture has sold us a self-centered, temporary perspective on love, one that says, “We love those things that serve our interests.” This perspective makes love fleeting. It is not a love worth fighting for. It is a “love” that is released when things get hard.

And this is not the perspective of God. This is not the love of God, nor is it the love God calls us to have.

God’s love is staying. God’s love is enduring. God’s love is, “I see your flaws, I just heard you raise your voice, I just watched you break some dishes, I’ve just seen you at your worst, and it is ugly…

And

I’m

Staying.”

It’s a totally different perspective on love.

And it’s a game-changer when we bring that perspective into our marriages and relationships. If I can love my wife with a staying kind of love, it doesn’t really matter if she is making me happy in a given moment. It doesn’t matter if we disagree or argue or frustrate one another. Those instances don’t cause me to reevaluate the value of our marriage. Having a staying kind of love means I’m all-in, whether she’s making me happy, or frustrating me to no end.

The great irony is having a staying kind of love, at least in my experience, makes the troubling times much less troubling, and makes the joyful times much more joyful. We are able to enjoy one another because the love we share is not entirely dependent on our feelings in the moment. Little by little, my love for my wife is becoming less selfish. I’ll be the first to admit I still have a lot of work to do.

That’s how I want to love my wife, and my family, and my friends, and my church. With steadfast, giving, and patient love, not a selfish and temporary “love”.

And it is so wonderfully refreshing to know God loves me (and you) perfectly with that kind of love. His love does not waver with our performance.

When I am berating myself because I think a sermon I gave stunk, God loves me with staying love. When I am feeling spiritually dry, God loves me with a staying love. When I am experiencing a deep, and intimate connection with him, God loves me with a staying kind of love. When I love others, when I am harsh, when I can hardly fathom my own foolishness and when I am impressed by my own accomplishments God loves me with a staying kind of love.

Search wherever you would like, you will not find anything more freeing than that.

And because God loves us in that way, we can begin to love others.

We can trade in temporary, preference-based, cheap, selfish love for a staying kind of love.

 

 

Thank You, Runners

April 15, 2013 in Personal Reflections with 0 Comments

I have played sports my entire life.

Some poorly, some pretty well.

Some competitively, some not.

And through my participation in a diverse array of sports leagues and competitions I have met all sorts of wonderful, interesting people. People I would be unlikely to interact with if not for our common interest in tennis, or ultimate Frisbee, or skiing, or basketball, or running.

I’ve also met quite a few jerks.

They seem to be drawn to the tennis court like bugs to light (though they are still, thankfully, outnumbered by the many great people I’ve met through the sport over the years).

They can be found every now and then on the basketball court. I hate to say there have been times in the distant past when I’ve been a jerk on the court.

I’ve seen them occasionally playing ultimate Frisbee, or on the golf course, or on the slopes.

But there is something about runners.

When I meet another runner we almost instantly hit it off. The sport just seems to attract interesting, humble, kind people.

It would seem as though the same undiagnosed disorder that causes someone to willingly subject themselves to the pain of pounding the pavement for hours on end also causes uncommon selflessness, kindness, and generosity.

I confess that while I generally love being around people, running is one of few activities I prefer to do alone. There is something about the solitude of running that is medicine for my soul.

But I sure do love being around runners.

They are people of a different breed. They tell great stories and funny jokes. They hang around the finish line long after they are done to encourage others. They inspire me in ways that have nothing to do with lacing up my shoes and starting my stopwatch. They are people who share an uncommon kinship. There is something about the shared experience of running that can unite two people like few other forces on the face of the earth can.

Running is the most communal individual sport on the planet.

Just being around runners inspires generosity and greater interest in others.

So when I heard of the senseless, cowardly attack at the Boston Marathon today, I was stunned.

Stunned by this attack that would be very personal for the millions of runners on the planet. Stunned that what should be a moment of euphoric joy- the finish of a marathon, and not just any marathon, Boston – could be marred by such violence.

For a community known for anonymous generosity to be struck by anonymous violence just seemed wrong.

It was the antithesis of everything the running community stands for.

I was angry for those injured, angry for those who lost their lives, and angry for the runners who have been robbed of their much-deserved celebration.

But in the midst of the ugliness, I was proud to see the way the runners on hand united.

I saw footage of runners running to aid the injured.

I saw photographs of runners tending to those in need.

I saw Facebook posts like these:

Capture

 

Capture

 

And I wasn’t surprised.

Because that’s just what runners do.

They take care of each other, they look out for each other, they encourage each other, they give.

So thank you, runners.

Thank you that on a day of such tragedy you shined once again.

An Important (But Overlooked) Life Skill

April 4, 2013 in Ministry - Theology with 2 Comments

How good are you at repenting?

I’ll be honest, I’ve never been asked that question in a job interview.

Actually, I’ve never been asked that question, ever.

I’ve been in plenty of situations where I have been questioned, evaluated, judged, and sized-up. I’ve been asked about my work habits, my personality, my thoughts about God, my future plans, my family, and all sorts of other things.

But I’ve never been asked about the level of skill I bring to the task of repenting.

Last night at the small group I lead for college-aged guys we watched a short video by pastor, radio host, seminary professor, and all-around wise dude Crawford Loritts. He was talking about the seasons of a man’s life, and the important skills a man must develop to be successful at home, at work, and in life in general.

And he emphasized the importance of young men asking themselves, “How good am I at repenting?”

“It sounds like a negative word,” he said, “But it doesn’t have to be.”

I agree, it doesn’t have to be. In fact, the skill of repenting leads to incredible freedom. The word translated “repent” in the Bible is a compound word, literally “change mind”. Repentance is thus the ability to change our mind, and thus change our behavior when situations call for it.

A person who is good at repenting is free to admit when an idea of theirs isn’t all that great.

A person who is good at repenting can apologize when they make a mistake.

A person who is good at repenting can make amends when their actions hurt others, even if that hurt was unintentional.

A person who is good at repenting recognizes they don’t have it all together, and can continue to grow.

A person who is good at repenting knows they can take risks because they are willing to own their failures.

On the other hand…

A person who is not good at repenting is harsh and arrogant. They are distant, and even mean-spirited in situations where repentance is necessary. They tend to look in the mirror during successful times, but look out for someone to blame when problems surface. Those who cannot repent are, in my experience, often devastated by insecurity. This insecurity shows itself in false confidence.

Frankly, a person who does not know how to repent is exceedingly difficult to work with, live with, or otherwise associate with.

Some years ago at a conference I heard a pastor say that the Christian life is a life of repentance. To submit ourselves to the lordship of Christ is to return to him often is acknowledgment of our short-comings. This sort of practice of repentance does not lead to guilt, shame, or self-loathing (though some in our culture may suggest it does). Instead it leads to freedom, confidence, and acceptance.

So I’ll ask the question again:

How good are you at repenting?

Is it a regular practice in your life? Is it something that happens often when you interact with God? With your family? At work?

Because even though you won’t see courses on it taught in school, or books about it in the “leadership” section of the bookstore, it is nevertheless a critical life skill.

 

 

On Knowing God’s Will (Or Not)

March 22, 2013 in Uncategorized with 0 Comments

When faced with major decisions in my life I have had a really difficult time “figuring out” God’s will.

In fact, nothing has caused me to doubt my own spiritual maturity more than the difficulty I have had in this area.

I cannot think of a single major decision I have made with absolute certainty that I was doing the “right” thing.

Where should I go to college?

Do I take the job in Oceanside and go to seminary in L.A., or do I move back east for seminary?

Should I get married? Is she “the one”? 

Do I take the job in L.A. or the job in Santa Barbara?

Do I quit my job and move back to Roseville, or should we stay in Santa Barbara?

Those are all questions I have wrestled with during my adult life. I immersed myself in prayer in search of clarity. I studied the Scriptures. When choosing between schools or jobs I made “pro” and “con” lists.

And while those exercises were helpful, I was asking for clarity and getting a fog.

In every one of those cases I ultimately had to make a decision.

There was some fear involved, there was some uncertainty involved, and there was some trust involved.

But I would be lying if I said there was no frustration involved. I wanted clarity on major life decisions, God didn’t give it to me. I felt I was doing my part, and God wasn’t doing his (or so I thought).

I really felt like I needed to know God’s will before I could make those decisions, but in every case knowing his will was elusive.

Several years as a pastor have confirmed I’m hardly the only one who has had this experience. I’ve met  folks who have felt clarity from God in the face of major decisions, but they are a small minority. Far more common are people just like me: people paralyzed by indecision and seeking clarity from God.

My own experience and my experience as a pastor has caused me to return to the Scriptures seeking to better understand God’s will- and the extent to which I can expect it to be revealed to me.

I have come to realize that while making these decisions I was seeking the wrong thing from God.

I wanted him to make my decision for me, when he has given me a brain to use to make decisions myself. I cannot look to his Word for absolute clarity about who to marry, what job to take, or what city to live in. Instead, I can submit myself to him as best I can, and then make a decision.

Now before you write me off as some sort of faithless heretic, hear me out. God gives instructions that can be used in making decisions, but it is rare that he makes non-ethical decisions totally clear. Consider the following verses:

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what  is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” -Romans 12:1-2

These verses contain three commands and a promise. The commands: 1) Make your life a living sacrifice, 2) Do not be conformed to the world, 3) Renew your mind (and be transformed by doing so. The promise is that in doing these things we will be able to discern the will of God.

So then, discerning the will of God is less about getting clarity in specific situations and more about the daily practice of forming ourselves into the sort of people who can know God and his commands, and act with freedom within those commands.

In other words, I believe as we continuously submit ourselves to God, as we continue to study the Scriptures, as we continue to engage in Christian community, we will grow into the sort of people who are more likely to make God-honoring decisions. Then when it comes to making decisions we need not wait for absolute clarity. Instead we can act with freedom knowing that our chief end in all of our decisions is the glory of God. With moral decisions, typically we can look to the Scriptures for clear instruction. With non-moral decisions we can have freedom, knowing we need not fear stepping out of God’s will with our decision.

Other verses give us similar insight into God’s will. 1 Thessalonians 4:3 tells us God’s will is our sanctification. Colossians 1:9-10 tells us that the purpose of knowing God’s will is so we may “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord” and that we might “bear fruit in every good work” and “increase in the knowledge of God.” There isn’t much in those verses about whether my family should live in Santa Barbara or Roseville.

That means when it comes to making decisions we can pray, study Scripture, seek counsel, and then act with confidence, knowing that we need not receive absolute clarity from God before we can act. If we are walking with God, there is no reason to be paralyzed by fear of making a wrong decision.

 

 

A Mouth Full of Rocks

March 13, 2013 in Ministry - Theology with 0 Comments

Dishonesty can produce a number of short-term benefits.

I’ve heard of people who have lied on resumé and gotten jobs as a result.

Folks often lie to their spouses or significant others to cover up their own misdeeds.

In church world people often disguise their brokenness so they can appear to have it all together.

Politicians slander their opponents for personal gain, trusting the public will not fact check them.

Lies can win arguments, avoid confrontations, and bring temporary peace.

But “temporary” is the key word there.

In the book of Proverbs we are given a graphic picture of the difference between the short-term and long-term results of lying.

Bread gained by deceit is sweet to a man, but afterwards his mouth will be full of gravel. -Proverbs 20:17

That’s a heck of a word picture isn’t it?

A mouth full of gravel.

Um, yuck.

The truth is those who lie are nearly always eventually found out, and the consequences are crippling.

Professional disaster and embarrassment, a reputation as a liar, distrust in key relationships, disgrace to those close to you, continued brokenness instead of healing, and the list goes on.

The sweet bread turns to gravel.

And the consequences of lying prove far worse than the consequences of honesty.

So when the bread looks sweet, may we first remember who we are: we belong to Christ, who calls us to be truthful people. And may we also remember the rocks, and flee from deceit and run towards honesty.

Photo credit: wwarby from Flickr Creative Commons

 

What Jesus Did Not Say About Loving Your Enemies

March 1, 2013 in Uncategorized with 1 Comment

Jesus did not say:

Love your enemies, unless they annoy you.

Love your enemies, unless they have wronged you.

Love your enemies, unless they are demanding and unreasonable.

Love your enemies, unless you would rather post mean articles about them on Facebook.

Love your enemies, unless they come from a different denomination.

Love your enemies, unless they are rich.

Love your enemies, unless they are poor.

Love your enemies, unless they are Republicans.

Love your enemies, unless they are Democrats.

Love your enemies, unless it costs you something.

Love your enemies, unless they wish do to you harm.

Love your enemies, unless it will make your life more difficult.

Love your enemies, unless they come from another country.

Love your enemies, unless they are anti-American.

Love your enemies, unless it makes more sense to fight back.

Love your enemies, unless it’s easier to passively take their abuse.

Love your enemies, unless they are intolerant.

Love your enemies, unless they are from a different ethnic group.

Love your enemies, unless they are of a different sexual orientation.

Love your enemies, unless they do not share your religious beliefs.

Love your enemies, unless they refuse to approve of your sin.

Love your enemies, unless they wear you down.

Love your enemies, unless your family, company, or country tells you not to.

Love your enemies, unless they don’t deserve it.

He didn’t say any of that.

He just said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

May we, who have been loved deeply and radically, love deeply and radically.

And may we, like Him, seek to transform our enemies through love rather than destroy them with hate.

Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons Kathleen Patrice

Sentences Will Change Your Life (Not Books)

February 27, 2013 in Personal Reflections with 2 Comments

What I have learned from about twenty-years of serious reading is this: It is sentences that change my life, not books. What changes my life is some new glimpse of truth, some powerful challenge, some resolution to a long-standing dilemma, and these usually come concentrated in a sentence or two. I do not remember 99% of what I read, but if the 1% of each book or article I do remember is a life-changing insight, then I don’t begrudge the 99%.”

-John Piper (1981)

It’s the sentences that will change your life.

When you sit down with a book, you can expect to leave with one or two major insights before you hit the back cover.

That is, if it is a great book.

And even if it is a great book there will be paragraphs, and pages, and chapters that get lost between your eyes and your brain.

Filler (or so it seems).

But that one sentence will make it all worth it.

And if you hadn’t the patience to dig through those paragraphs, and pages, and chapters you would have missed the sentence.

And if you had just watched television you would have missed the sentence.

And if you had just gone to bed early you would have missed the sentence.

And if you had just aimlessly wandered around the Internet you would have missed the sentence.

Finding that sentence took some effort, but it was worth it.

I wonder how often we miss those “sentences”.

And I’m not talking about reading.

We miss those moments of grand revelation, those moments when our efforts finally pay off, those moments when things finally start to come together, when the veil is lifted and that which was hidden from view comes into plain sight.

And why?

Because we are unwilling to wade through the proverbial paragraphs, and pages, and chapters where those sentences are buried.

Great insight, great accomplishment, great advancement.

Those are all things that come in a moment. They are the 1%. And those moments are found only when we are willing to trudge our way through the other 99%.

When we are willing to talk it out for hours rather than storm off.

When we are willing to think, and pray, and struggle instead of make a hasty decision.

When we are willing to put in the hours required to be great.

When we are willing to honestly, and diligently, and prayerfully search the Scriptures.

When we are willing to engage in the daily practice of sharpening our minds.

When we do these things and keep doing them even when we see no fruit.

We find the sentences.

If It’s Worth Doing It’s Worth Doing Poorly

February 26, 2013 in Family Life, Ministry - Theology with 4 Comments

Recently I was listening to a pastor talk about his family life.

He said that early on in his ministry career he wasn’t a great spiritual leader for his family.

It sounded like a classic “the cobbler’s kids have no shoes” scenario. Sadly, I’ve heard many of these stories from pastors and their families.

But he said about ten years ago that all changed. He realized – I don’t remember how – that he was blowing it at home and his wife and kids needed spiritual leadership from him. This realization changed his life.

He then launched into a passionate plea for men to do whatever it took to be leaders in their families.

He pleaded with men to pray with their wives. He acknowledged that many men might find this strange or awkward. It can be difficult, he admitted, and sometimes it’s hard to know what to pray or pray about.

But I love what he said next:

“Whatever it takes, just do it. If it’s worth doing it’s worth doing poorly.”

In other words, “Don’t let your lack of expertise keep you from trying. You’ll figure it out as you go along.”

I love that idea.

I am a big believer in doing things with excellence.

If you have worked with me in the past you know that I hold myself and others to a high standard. When we are doing meaningful work it is imperative that we give it our best. If a lack of excellence is due to a lack of effort, that’s a real problem.

HOWEVER, HOWEVER, HOWEVER…

If our lack of the necessary ability to achieve excellence prevents us from even trying something, that’s a bigger problem.

And I wonder how many of us get paralyzed in our personal or professional lives by an unwillingness to do things poorly.

That’s why I love the perspective of this pastor: “Who cares if you don’t know how to pray with your wife? Just try it, you’ll get the hang of it. Sure, you won’t be good at it at first, but you’re not going to improve by NOT doing it.”

This line of thinking can apply to SO many different phases of life:

Who cares if you’re not in great shape? Just go for a ten-minute walk today. No one is asking you to run a marathon. If that goes well maybe try for 15 tomorrow.

Who cares if you if you have no experience with a new skill you want to learn? Invest some time in learning today. And a little bit more next week.

Who cares if you’ve never been a reader? Find a short, easy, fun book to read. No need to start with Shakespeare.

Who cares if you don’t know how to talk to your kids? Just start asking them questions. It will probably be difficult at first.

And that list could go on forever.

Some time ago at a conference I heard Matt Redman’s former youth pastor speak. Redman is one of the most famous worship leaders of this generation. The speaker told a less-than-flattering story about Redman’s early days as a worship leader, and he finished the story with this:

“Matt Redman is a great worship leader today because he was given permission to be a bad worship leader early on.”

If we are going to chase down our dreams we need to give ourselves permission to struggle. We need to give ourselves permission to do some things poorly. Because nearly everything that any of us do well we start by doing poorly.

Photo credit: Flick Creative Commons by Peter Nijenhuis

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