When Wrestle Mania and Massage Therapy Converge

Thirteen years ago to this day I was in Cottage Grove, Minnesota completing an internship with a small church. I stayed with the lead pastor and his family of seven for two months. As a nineteen year old college student I was pretty naive when it came to what running a large family entailed. I watched and listened a lot as Pastor John shared with me what it was like being the father of five children ranging in ages 1-13. Interestingly, it wasn't the religious leadership nuggets he shared that summer that hold the tightest reign on my brain's memory banks. 

While we watched a movie together one night he looked over at me and said words I'll never forget, "Jared, one day you'll have a family of your own. When you're stressed don't forget to let your kids climb on you."

At the time I thought his statement was off the wall weird. Now I know it's genius.

Tonight I let me kids climb on me. Partly because I've been exhausted from a 3 week DIY project and back to back 10 hour work days, but also because I wanted to play and I knew I needed some joy to kick me back into what life is all about. Heaven on earth.

What started as a "massage session" (aka let's-walk-across-Daddy's-back-like-it's-a-bridge) quickly evolved into Wrestle Mania XXX which then naturally morphed into a tickle fest. Even my youngest Ari joined in and before we knew it all four of us were rolling around, giggling, and having the time of our lives. Eventually Avery had a pee-pee accident and we had to stop but it was all fun...ironically, even cleaning up urine. And amazingly I feel recharged right now. Enough to write a post and go have a movie date with my wife.

Thanks Pastor John for the advice you gave me almost a decade and a half ago. I will never forget to enter into the childlike joy that my kids teach me through their touch, their laughter, and their play!

Jesus, Press the Stop Button!

No matter which word Bible translators use to describe it--furious, violent, fierce--the storm in Matthew 8/Mark 4 was no joke. It was big. Big as in we-might-die big. Not sure about you, but the closest I've been to that kind of storm was watching George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg's characters' futile attempt to batten down the hatches in The Perfect Storm on my 60 inches of High Definition, Dolby Digital surround sound experience. And even then it wasn't too scary because I could hit the pause button at any point, pop an extra bag of Orville Redenbacher, and pee before returning for the climactic finish. 

Can you imagine being one of the disciples with Jesus as the white squall rolled in over them? Struggling against the wind, doing your best to keep from flipping over. Shoveling water. Utter panic. Meanwhile, your beloved rabbi is taking a cat nap in the back of the boat. Was he really that tired from the day's activity? Was he testing them, observing the chaos through a cracked, "sleeping" eye? Or was this simply another life circumstance, naturally presenting itself to the Son of Man in order that he might show his followers that trust is possible and moreover necessary even in the most daunting predicament? 

As Katie and I read this favorite story to Eden and Avery for the first time, their anticipation grew with each line: Was it raining a lot? Was there thunder, lightning? How big were the waves? Did they die? What's going to happen to Jesus? 

After reading it through and fielding questions, we decided the best way to get a real sense of the atmosphere on the Sea of Galilee and the conversations that ensued between the thirteen of the them during this temptest was to reenact the scene.

Avery insisted on being Jesus. The rest of us filled in as disciples. I doubled as the prop manager. Fan on high--check. Small mattress boat--check. Disco lightning switch--double check.

The story was going as planned. Just as Peter (Eden) was on his way over board Avery decided to put her own spin on the Messiah character, "There're aligators in there" she shouted. She then attempted to grab the three of us and pull us into a tiny two year old bear hug, reminding us of Yeshua's promise in her own words, "Don't worry, everyone. I got you. I'll just press the stop button!"

Isn't that what the Messiah essentially did...pressed the stop button? What a refleshingly simple take on a profoundly over-complicated situation. 

Avery's creative interpretation on the interaction in the boat reminded me of just how often faith is diminished when adults allow a worrisome mentality to run amuck or delay a necessary spiritual check on fleshly fear. I'm guilty too often of this, just like the disciples. And every time G-d responds to my lack of awareness in the same way. He reaches for the stop button and says, "Trust me, little faiths, I got this!"

Is There Something Hiding Under Your Bed?

"Daddy, did Abba (Eden's name for G-d) make me afraid of the dark?"

Eden was crying when she asked me this late one night. Katie and I had decided to move Avery's bed out of Eden's room and into Ari's in order to help him sleep. Interestingly, the darkness wasn't an issue until she thought she was alone in it. Suddenly, clothes awkwardly hanging in the closet transformed into the Boogeyman. Oddly shaped objects under the bed morphed into creatures from the underworld. Needless to say, Eden was not supportive of the choice. (We did eventually move Avery back the next night!)

I was doing my best to calm Eden's little frightened spirit that night, but her question forced me to pause and ask myself, "How do I know that G-d didn't make us afraid of the dark?" 

Not long after that conversation with Eden I watched a teacher talk about resting. Resting from running from event to event. Resting from worrying. Resting from a life of scurrying about like a chicken with my head cut off. His words were speaking to me on many levels, but when he used a verse out of Genesis, one I had read many times before, as a basis for his point I got the answer to my question, "How do I know Abba didn't make us afraid of the dark?"

Here it is, "G-d called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. So there was evening, and there was morning, one day." 

Would G-d create something and then cause me, Eden, or any of His children to then fear that which He created? How can that be His heart for his children? I knew it was not. I did say something to this effect to Eden on the night she asked me, but I didn't have Genesis 1:5 in mind when I reassured her that G-d would never create anything with the purpose of scaring her. Somehow I felt more empowered in that truth after reading Genesis 1:5. That was cool.

Did you notice what came first in the one day? Light or darkness? Our days never begin with the dawn. Each one begins just after dusk. What's really intriguing to me about this verse is that both Night and Day are capitalized in the Jewish interpretation of this text; they're personified! Can I welcome Night into my house, not as an uninvited thief, but as an ancient Friend coming to visit, bringing comfort and rest? 

Imagine that thought for a minute. 

Rest instead of fear. Gladness instead of mourning. Joy instead of depression. Trust instead of worry. Love instead of control.

Well Hydrated and Strong Muscles

Avery, my middle kid, continues to blow me away with her prayers. G-d's teaching me via my children that prayers look so different. That's truly the beauty of prayer, isn't it? Just like conversations, there are literally millions of ways they can be spoken.

We recently sponsored the rescue of three Indian children from the world of human sex trafficking, and the organization sent us their pictures. Each night as part of our daily routine, we joyfully pray for all the rescued children Life for the Innocent has helped, but particularly the three we "know": Kunshi, Shari, and Tahir. We love it! The girls take turns praying for the children. They are a part of our extended family, and we hope and trust that one day we will meet them face-to-face in heaven.

It's important that we practice as a family listening to G-d speak to us, through our spirits, for each of these little ones. One night Avery, our ever-thoughtful three year old, prayed, "Abba, give Kunshi strong muscles and keep her hydrated. Amen!"

We were blown away by the simple specificity of Avery's prayer (on the surface), and yet there was much to unpack within her petition. Water and weight. Nutrients. Joy. Eternal life. I couldn't help but be reminded of Yeshua's promise of living water, the type that will satisfy eternally, "Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life" (John 4:13-14).

Avery taught me that sometimes it's not about what we actually say in our prayers but about what we leave unsaid. He knows my heart. He's praying through it. I can trust that as I submit to His Lordship in my life living waters will flow.

Let Your Light Shine, Don't Burn People With It

My daughter showed me that a follower of Yeshua (Jesus) can lovingly share their faith without being a jerk! I know, if you live within the western world of Christianity that may feel a bit oxymoronic. Perhaps it's because you've encountered a misguided religious zealot?

I find there's a disconnect for many people with what it means to share one's faith with someone who doesn't believe as they do. Have some mistranslated the Messiah's great commission? Instead of going out and making disciples, have they instead opted to go out and make converts? I've witnessed first hand this process, and unfortunately have seen many, believers in G-d and non-believers, burnt by a pressure-induced, guilt-laden message. Sadly, at one point in my life I was the one delivering that message, attempting to convince and argue people into Yeshua's Kingdom. I say "sadly" because I realized I was doing more harm than good--for myself included. I came to the realization that my faith journey had evolved into a Boy Scout Religion. Next badge to earn? This is probably why at one point about eight years ago I just stopped. I stopped striving toward the goal of getting people through the doors of a church or to pray a prayer with me. And I attempted to simply be a friend, loving, and leading by example. Just letting my light shine.

Last week my soon-to-be five year old, Eden, came up to me and shared that she felt Abba (her name for G-d) was telling her to go and give her Bible to one of our neighbor's kids. I believe I knew where this was going, but I wanted to test the motive and in the process use it as a teaching moment.

"Why do you want to give Sammy your Bible?"

"Because he can read the letters and I can't yet." Ok. My direct question deserved that answer, but I wasn't satisfied. Rephrase.

"How do you know he doesn't already have one to read?"

"Because he told me."

"You mean you asked him?"

"Yeah, he said he doesn't know Abba and doesn't have a Bible?"

Honestly, I was in shock. My four year old was asking a fourth grader about his relationship with G-d?!? How aware. How bold. How...loving.

We went over right after that and she offered her Bible to Sammy, her face lit up with a smile. It was the light within her, shining brightly, just as Jesus said in Matthew 5:16, "In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

What was the good deed, though? It wasn't like she was offering to tag team with Sammy in mowing the lawn or help quiz him with his multiplication facts. The good deed was her obedience to what she felt was G-d's voice inside her heart, leading her to offer a gift.

Eden taught me a great lesson that day. I can share my light without burning others. I can lovingly offer the gift of getting to know G-d without shoving my flame in someone's face.

Simple Prayers

We've all had those days when the ups and downs of life get to us. Thursday was that type of day for me, but I had one of those divine moments with my eldest daughter that brought me back to the joy of G-d's Spirit within. I asked her to pray for me. If you've never had a four year old pray for you I highly recommend it.

It went something like this, "Abba, help Daddy feel better. And help him to have a better day. Amen."

That's it? Yeah, that's it!

No grandiose petition. No verbose litany. No pre-packaged words. Just her heart for her daddy.

I think Abba loves that same level of prayer from His creation. I can imagine Him listening to the long-winded incantations and thinking, "Just talk with me!"

Eden taught me that radical, Spirit-centered joy can be rediscovered through the simplest, shortest, most honest prayers. To-the-point prayers. Loving prayers. Prayers centered on others' well-being. I think those are the types of conversations our heavenly Dad is just waiting to have with us.

Because You're Daddy

Thirty-two years. That's how long I went before I had to get stitches. Not a bad run, I say. But when you forget you're thirty-two and go diving for a loose basketball, stitches are bound to happen.

I wasn't crazy about the idea of having a small sharp object threaded through my upper lip, but I also didn't want to miss an opportunity to show my girls how one can be brave and at the same time a bit worried when going to get shots and stitches at the doctor. The convo with my second daughter went something like this:

Me: You know, Avers, Daddy's a little afraid about going to the doctor for a shot.

Avery: You can't be afraid.

Me (she had my attention): Oh, why's that?

Avery: Because you're Daddy. (Said with a very matter-of-fact tone.)

I think my heart actually melted in my chest that very moment.

How often have I wanted to say those very same words to my heavenly Daddy but balked in doubt? Not Avery. She said it assuredly. She said it with more faith than I feel I'll ever be able to muster.

I am reminded of the promise of G-d, "...as sure as the sunshine." Can I be that confident in Him? He says I can. Can I trust that He will be my rock when times are rough and fear crouches at the door of my heart? Can I bring my prayers and requests to Him with the same childlike faith that Avery showed me or will I let the circumstances of life dictate my response?

Can I rest on, "Because you're Abba-Daddy"?