A work in progress

I ran 7 miles today. I tell my students that and they freak out. Except for my cross country runners who are quite used to distances (at a much quicker pace I might add). The thing that surprises me the most is how much of a "head game" I have to play to make the longer distances. My body is able to do 7 miles and more. My mind really wants me to quit after 2. During each run, there are two voices arguing over the music. One tells me that I can do this and will succeed. The other tells me that I have no business attempting this and will fail. I choose which voice wins. As a member of Christ's flock, I hear His voice. I know His voice. And yet I allow a dissenting voice to weasel it's way into my heart and make its argument. Sometimes, I choose the wrong voice. When I choose poorly, I'm grateful that my Shepherd forgives me and will come find me. When I choose correctly, I'm thankful for the faithfulness and sovereignty of the One who knows what is best.  ...

My friends and family who possess a more refined grasp of the English language will have to excuse this math-minded teacher's attempt at a "response paper". It's been a long time since I wrote one.  But, I'm compelled to respond to a theme that has been reaching my heart through the book I've been reading, sermons I've been hearing, and conversations I've been having. This morning, my pastor continued a series on being Commissioned, focusing on the message I need to share as I "go and make disciples". (Matt. 28:20) In Luke 24, Christ reminds His disciples that He has fulfilled the prophesies of Moses, the prophets, and the Psalms, and then proceeds to state the Gospel, the message I am to share with the world: "Thus it is written, that the Christ would suffer and rise again from the dead the third day, and that repentance for forgiveness of sins would be proclaimed in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem." (Lk. 24...

Last night, I was privileged to experience The Story Tour. Many of you are probably familiar with this event, but, as usual, it took me a couple years to hear about it. The outline of the evening was very straightforward: sing some Christmas carols, and then journey through the story of the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation. Pastor Randy Frazee narrated, providing the basic story of each character. Then, one of the many artists would sing that character’s song. The lyrics would be from their perspective and images or videos would play on the large screen behind them. The blend of music and visual was powerful and moving. While the images presented enhanced the experience, I was surprised at how the melodies, and even more so the lyrics, cut so quickly and deeply to my heart. Adam and Eve, longing for their walks with God. Abraham, trying to trust an unseen promise. Daniel, refusing to bow to anyone but God. Job, grieving the loss of everything only to rise and say, “Hallelu...

I was encouraged to post this on my blog. It happened recently and after getting a chance to talk to this student a little more, it's apparent that he's a great kid who made a poor choice and is working on taking responsibility for that choice. Here it is: How do mercy and justice coexist? In the life of this teacher, ridiculous anecdotes for my life with Christ are an almost daily occurrence. I often vent with my colleagues and friends about the apathy of today’s youth, the inability of some to take responsibility for anything, and the rampant epidemics of entitlement and instant gratification. When I shine the spotlight on my own heart, my responses to Christ are eerily consistent with the very behavior I complain about. I approach my quiet time and the Great Commission with apathy all too often. I have numerous excuses ready for any sin I commit. I often behave in a manner that suggests that God owes me something immediately – waiting is not an option. I’m an apathetic,...

What a semester....what a year. Over the last week, I've been thinking about the Hiemlich maneuver quite a bit. Strange, I know, but let me try to explain. During the cold winter months in Prague, many moons ago, I had lunch duty at school. One of our 7th grade students was choking on a piece of pasta. It terrified me - her lips were turning blue and you could see the fear in her eyes. Selfishly, I hope she didn't see the fear in mine when I turned her around, hoped my fist was in the correct spot, and started the Hiemlich. It worked. She took a few minutes to recover and finish her lunch, then went out to play with her friends. I, on the other hand, took a little longer to recover. The scene has been playing over in my head ever since a read a passage in Hebrews. In Chapter 5, the author paints an unfortunate picture: Believers who should be mature enough to eat solid food, but can't move past the infant milk phase. That's me. The reason I know it's me is because, ...

I was tempted to wait until November 2nd to write something new. Not that I have much of anything to contribute today. 30 was great - completed 8 years of teaching, set foot on a new continent, connected with some great old friends and some great new friends, completed my second half marathon, used a belt sander for the first time. I must admit that I enjoy getting older. Life certainly doesn't get easier, but it's richer, more purposeful, more meaningful. As I learn to rest in my Savior and trust the leading of the Holy Spirit, I enjoy each day - good, bad, and ugly. He is faithful to complete the work He started and I'm grateful for the journey. Teaching year #9 begins on Monday and I'm excited, praying I make a difference. And after a week of saying I'm 31, I'm hopeful that this year's journey will be a great one with the Lord.

It's been a rough couple of weeks. This time of year is always a struggle. I know that it doesn't have to be. I mean, I know truth. I know that there is life, hope, and rest in my Savior. When I fix my eyes on Jesus, I stop stressing over the details and allow Him to carry me through the big picture. And yet, in October, I often find myself drowning in the details, frantically trying to keep my head above water, oblivious to the life raft right next to me. This weekend was the breaking point.....in a good way. I took Friday off so that I could meet my parents in San Antonio and continue driving to McAllen in order to visit some family and friends. I referred to it as my "mental health" day, but it really ended up being a spiritual health retreat. Friday night, I went to a Casting Crowns concert and was flooded with truth about God's mercy, love, forgiveness, faithfulness, sovereignty, holiness, and love. So often, the routine of every day puts me into auto pilot...