Family Ties

I always thought I would follow in my father’s footsteps and have a career in business. Dad was a successful and much-loved sales manager at Lever Brothers, and after he went to be with the Lord, I wanted to honor his legacy by going into business too. So after flinging my graduation cap to “Pomp and Circumstance” along with the rest of the Marcus High School class of 1991, I packed my Izods and Jordache jeans, along with other dorm room essentials like a hot plate and mini TV, into my trusty Dodge Shadow and headed to Aggieland, where I had received a full academic scholarship and planned to get my MBA.

My freshman year, I was selected to participate in the business school honors program, joining a dozen or so students hand-picked to be instructed by the deans of each department. I was on a fast track to success in the business world. Dad would be so proud, I thought.

Trouble was, I didn’t care much for accounting. Or microeconomics. Or finance. Or many of the other classes along the way to my business degree. Come to think of it, I only truly enjoyed classes like marketing and advertising—subjects where I could be creative and write.

By my sophomore year, the situation was becoming quite a quandary for this practical-minded gal. How could I continue pursuing a career that I frankly wasn’t interested in? On the other hand, if I didn’t get a business degree, what on earth was I going to do? I talked to my mom and several trusted friends about my dilemma, and their suggestion was almost unanimous: why not change my major to English, where I could focus on what I loved—reading, writing, and being creative?

I had a ready answer for that. I couldn’t possibly become an English major because (1) I had no desire to be a schoolteacher and (2) I didn’t want to wait tables for the rest of my life. After all, practically speaking, weren’t those the only two career options for an English major? (Before you beg to differ on this point, yes, I know there are many, many other options. But at the time, I wasn’t aware of them. Just hang with me here.)

After much prayer, I sensed the Lord guiding me to a perfect solution: why not combine my interests and go into the business of writing? Aha! Book publishing!

I did a bit of research and found a respected Christian book publisher in the Dallas area. Convinced that I was following God’s leading, I boldly picked up the phone and gave them a call.

Did they have any part-time positions available?

Nope.

Any summer internships?

Nope.

Could I just come pour coffee or something, to see what book publishing was like?

Nope.

Humph. Not exactly the “clear sign from God” I was looking for.

Not one to shy away from a challenge, I continued calling the publisher every few months, making sure they still had my resume and politely asking if they had any summer openings yet. I kept getting the same answer.

I had almost decided to go back to my previous summer job when out of the blue, I got a call from a professional-sounding woman who introduced herself as Laura Minchew, vice president of the children’s division of Word Publishing. She had seen my resume and was impressed. Would I be interested in a summer internship in the children’s book division?

Yes, yes, YES!

That was great, she said. Then she mentioned one other detail—it would be an unpaid internship. Was I okay with that?

Um, God, when I asked You to provide a job at a book publisher, should I have specified a “paying” one? After all, money is kind of important for me, being in college and all . . .

Of course I was okay with that, I assured her, swallowing my protests to the contrary. Sign me up! I’d start as soon as the spring semester was over.

So in May 1993, I donned my most professional-looking attire (in that era, no doubt something paisley with puffy sleeves) and drove to the offices of Word Publishing, ready to find out what the book publishing biz was all about.

And I’ve been hooked ever since.

Those of you who have stumbled upon your life’s calling—the place where your passion meets your paycheck—understand what I mean when I say that from the moment I walked into the world of Christian books, I knew I was home.

At Word, I was surrounded by talented, energetic, creative people who were eager to help authors effectively communicate their messages of hope and truth to thousands of people around the world. I couldn’t believe there were so many people who loved books as much as I did! As David Moberg, former VP of Word and a highly respected leader in the Christian book industry, once said, “We have ink in our veins.” So it will come as no surprise that after my summer internship, I continued to work for Word at every opportunity throughout my college days and then enthusiastically accepted a full-time position upon graduation.

Honestly, I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else! There was a synergy at Word Publishing that, ironically, defies description. It was a golden era of like-minded, highly skilled people who wholeheartedly rallied around a shared desire to publish top-quality, God-honoring books. The leadership cultivated a family atmosphere where every employee felt valued and essential, thus inspiring us to work even harder to produce excellent products. In every sense of the term, it was a dream team.

My dad would have been so proud.

But like the poet Robert Frost famously penned, “So dawn goes down to day / Nothing gold can stay.” Only three years after I began working there full-time, Word was bought by another publisher and moved to Nashville. Several people transferred with the company, but many of us whose lives and loved ones were in the Dallas area simply couldn’t make the move.

After tearful good-byes, our close-knit Word family was literally torn apart as we scattered across the metroplex. Several people, like me, continued to work for Word on a freelance basis, while others found positions at other publishers or companies.

Fast-forward twelve years.

On the eve of David Moberg’s sixtieth birthday, he had made plans to travel from Nashville to accompany author Max Lucado to a book signing in Hurst. A couple of former Word folks came up with a fabulous idea: This would be a great opportunity for a Word Publishing reunion! A few e-mails and phone calls later, the plans were all set.

On Wednesday, I had the privilege of reconnecting with my Word family. It was a delightful evening of hugs and swapping stories and catching up with dear friends. Sure, there were a few more gray hairs around the table, but the synergy and sparkle of the Word team still shone through. We still share a common passion, as well as the deep bonds that come with having poured out our hearts together for many years to accomplish a common goal.

At one point in the evening, my husband Brett leaned over to me and said, “Now I see why you loved working at Word so much. The energy here is incredible!” No matter the time and distance that may separate us, these people are, in every sense of the word, my family.

As I looked through pictures of our Word reunion this morning, I got to thinking, What would it be like if the church had this kind of synergy? After all, no matter where we worship on Sunday mornings, the congregation is filled with people who share a common passion (a love for Jesus Christ) and who are pouring out their hearts together to accomplish a common goal (spreading the gospel and developing fully functioning followers of Jesus Christ). We are, in every sense of the word, the family of God.

One of the great things about The Church at Sendera Ranch is that as a new church, our congregation does have a genuine excitement. Many people at TCASR have said that from the moment they walked into the service, they knew they were home.

Like the golden era of Word, TCASR is made up of like-minded, supernaturally gifted people who wholeheartedly rally around a shared desire to change lives for good. Our leadership cultivates a family atmosphere where every person feels valued and essential, thus inspiring all of us to work even harder to share the gospel and serve our community. In every sense of the term, it is a dream team.

It is my prayer that we will continue to sustain this level of connectedness and purpose so that many years from now, someone will lean over to me and say, “Now I see why you love serving at The Church at Sendera Ranch so much. The energy here is incredible!”

What about your church? Is there a synergy and sparkle among your church family that attracts others and makes them want to be part of what God is doing there? If not, what can you do to help cultivate that sense of connectedness and enthusiasm in your church today?

Time for a Change

“How do I look, Mama?” five-year-old JJ asked, as she bounded down the stairs.

It was Sunday afternoon, and the kids and I were getting ready to go to my mom’s house for our annual pumpkin carving with their cousins. I sent Boo and JJ upstairs with specific instructions to change out of their dresses into play clothes that they could get sticky with pumpkin goo.

I should have known better.

JJ’s ensemble of choice was eclectic, to put it nicely. I have to hand it to her, though. Technically, her outfit matched. She even pointed out that a pink stripe on her tank top blended with a pink flower on her shorts. Okay, she got me there. And I guess technically a khaki sun hat matches everything, right?

But it was fifty degrees outside—hardly tank-top-and-shorts weather.

Now, to JJ’s credit, Old Man Winter takes his time moseying down to Texas. While folks in other regions of the country have been shoveling snow out of their driveways for weeks, down here in Fort Worth, we’ve been lounging on our back porches on perfect 75-degree evenings. So it’s understandable that JJ would assume her summer outfit would befit late October. (After all, there have been years when we’ve opened Christmas presents in our shorts!) But we finally had a cold snap that seemed like it would last awhile. (Side note: my husband, who is from northwest Arkansas, and I disagree on the definition of cold. In Texas, the official definition is “anything less than sixty degrees.”)

I sent JJ back upstairs to change into long sleeves and jeans. And then, on second thought, I went upstairs to supervise.

Walking into JJ’s room, I realized why she’d had such a hard time selecting an appropriate outfit. There were piles of clothes everywhere!

Alas, it was that time of year again—time to change out the seasons and sizes of clothes. And I was woefully behind in getting the kids’ closets organized. To be honest, it’s something I dread. Don’t get me wrong: I love the feeling of having an organized closet. I just don’t like the process of getting there.

But JJ’s closet was desperately crying out for help. Most of the summer clothes hanging in her closet were a size too small and needed to be put aside, the winter clothes from last year had to be sorted through to find things that still fit, and I needed to go through the storage bin of hand-me-downs from Boo to find winter clothes for JJ this year. Oh, and I needed to mow through JJ’s shoes too. And belts. Oh, and socks—JJ’s socks were getting too small, so I needed to change those out too. Sigh.

It was time for a change.

So I decided to take off work Monday, and I spent the day sorting through piles of clothes and changing out all three kids’ closets. It was a painstaking process—each item in their closets had to be taken down and examined to determine whether it should remain. Some summer clothes could be set aside for next summer; others were too small and needed to be put away. Then I went through the bins of next-size-up clothes that had been handed down from older siblings or given to us by friends over the years. What would fit? What would be appropriate for chilly weather? Which outfits were outdated? What could we pass on to other kids? And then the process began again with shoes. And belts. And socks. And . . .

You get the picture.

It took me almost an entire day to sort through all of their closets, and I have to admit, I’m still not entirely done. But I’m getting closer to having those organized closets I love. I know exactly what they’re supposed to look like—I just have a bit more work to get there.

The process reminds me a bit of what’s it’s like to clean out the “closets” of our life before God. Let’s face it: we all have things hanging around in our lives that needed to be sorted through.

Some things are flat-out sins, things that dishonor God and miss the mark of His holiness. Those need to be confessed and tossed out. First John 1:9 says, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” There are things in your life that you know, beyond a doubt, should not stay. So get rid of them! Don’t take time to examine them, lingering over the memories you had wearing them—toss them out! They’re taking up space in your life that you need to fill with God’s righteousness and love.

Some things are outdated and need to be put aside. Are there spiritual practices you’re still clinging to, simply because “you’ve always done it that way”? Though our lives can be enriched by tradition (cue Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof here), there are some traditions that clutter our hearts and prevent us from experiencing new life in Jesus. Fittingly, our Lord described this with a parable about—you guessed it!—clothes: “No one tears a patch from a new garment and sews it on an old one. If he does, he will have torn the new garment, and the patch from the new will not match the old” (Luke 5:36). Are you clinging to any old traditions that are keeping you from a fresh, genuine encounter with Jesus? Set them aside today.

Some things in our lives are a size too small and no longer fit. Are you stuck in the same spiritual routine that you’ve been doing for years? Maybe you attend church on Sunday morning but haven’t made room for your faith in your day-to-day life. Or maybe you’ve been doing the same kinds of devotionals, or praying the same generic “God bless the missionaries” prayers, for several years. Just like every infant experiences physical growth, every Christian goes through a process of spiritual growth. Perhaps it’s time to take a closer look at your spiritual life. In what ways are you closer to God this season than last season? If you’ve been following Christ for several years but are still wearing toddler clothes in your spiritual life, it’s time to “grow up in your salvation” and “become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (1 Peter 2:2; Ephesians 4:13). Pass on your toddler clothes by mentoring a younger believer, and press on toward spiritual maturity by “being renewed inwardly day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16).

As the seasons change and we begin the often-dreaded process of clearing out the clutter, let’s take hope in the fact that someday, we will no longer have to keep purging our lives of sin, old traditions, and immaturity. Like the perfectly organized closets I’ve envisioned for my children, God has an infinitely greater, perfect plan for all of His children. The Bible assures us that one day, our earthly, perishable bodies will be “clothed with the imperishable” (1 Corinthians 15:54). We will finally toss out the despair of this life and put on “a garment of praise” (Isaiah 61:3). And then—hallelujah!—we will be arrayed as the bride of Christ, “in fine linen, white and clean,” and we will dwell forever in the new heaven and earth prepared for us by our faithful, good, and loving God (Revelation 19:14; 21:1–5; Psalm 102:25–27).

And that, my friends, is change you can believe in.

Warming Up to True Community

The past four weeks, Brett has been preaching a sermon series called “Living Life in the End Zone,” based on Acts 2. Sunday after Sunday, he has been encouraging our congregation to experience true community not only by deepening our personal relationship with the Lord and serving in the local church, but also by reaching out to our neighbors to share the message and love of Christ in a practical way.

Like any good pastor’s wife, I have been sitting on the front row, taking good notes, and thinking about how proud I am of my husband for preaching the Word with clarity, boldness, and grace.

And then I take my copiously filled-in sermon notes home and promptly file them away. After all, like many pastor’s wives, I’ve heard most of this before. Many, many times before.

Not just from Brett, of course. I cut my teeth (probably literally) on a church pew. My parents used to pin my tithe to my diaper when they took me to the church nursery. My dad was a deacon and my mom was in the choir, and our family of five was at church every single week for Sunday school, worship service, discipleship training, Tuesday night visitation, Wednesday night prayer meeting, and every potluck and hymn sing and revival meeting in-between. Take seventeen years of that, add four years of college ministry, and then throw in three more years of seminary. Now top that off with ten years of marriage to a pastor, and you’ll begin to have an idea of exactly how many sermons I have heard in my life.

That’s why a specific event this past week turned into a truly amazing, God-sent opportunity to actually live out the truths I’ve been jotting down on my sermon notes.

It started last Friday, when our air conditioning went out. During the 90+-degree Texas heat, I might add. Oh, and I might also add that the manufacturer informed us that it will take at least two weeks for our replacement part to arrive.

Two weeks. In unrelenting, 90-degree heat. With three young children. And the two of us both working from home.

Can anyone say, YIKES!

Now, I have to admit that my first reaction to this news was something other than, “Lord, thank You for this great opportunity.” But we didn’t have money to replace the A/C unit, or even to buy portable fans to use while we waited for the part to arrive, so we didn’t have an option. We would simply have to endure the heat. For two weeks.

After a couple of days of sweating it out, I finally decided to send an e-mail to our church, asking if anyone might have a portable fan that we would borrow for a while. But to be honest, it took me awhile to work up the nerve to hit Send. After all, I’m not used to asking for help. Don’t get me wrong: I’m a master delegator and have absolutely no problem assigning tasks for a specific project. But when it comes to asking for help for myself or my family—well, that’s another matter entirely. You see, there's an unwritten rule in churches that pastors and their families are the ones who give help, not the ones who need help. And that’s pretty much the way we’ve been living the past ten years.

But oh my word, it was so HOT in our house. I had to do something!

When I checked my e-mail later that day, I was overwhelmed at the response. Dozens of people offered us not just the use of their fans, but even their homes. One friend invited our entire family to spend the night as often as we’d like—she had plenty of room for all of us, she said. Another dear friend let us know that she stashed a key outside, so we were able to use her home for the kids’ afternoon naps. Several moms offered to host the kids and me for afternoon play dates, so we could escape the heat. And still others have called us this week to check on how we’re doing and see how they can help.

In other words, our church is reaching out to us to share the love of Christ in a practical way.
It’s exactly what Brett has been preaching the past few weeks. Here we are, actually experiencing a true, Acts 2 kind of community!

There’s nothing more exciting than seeing God’s vision become reality. The past few months, we’ve been amazed to watch God build His church and draw us together as a church family. And this week, Brett and I were humbled and grateful to reap the blessings of the true community God has been building here at The Church at Sendera Ranch.

This Sunday, Brett is starting a sermon series called “We Hold These Truths,” covering the essential Christian doctrines. You bet your boots I’m gonna take good notes! And then I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for how God is going to put those truths into practice in our daily lives.

Stay tuned…

Say Cheese!

A few weeks ago, our oldest child, Boo, donned her Disney Princess backpack and lunchbox and walked hand-in-hand with her dad down the sparkling-clean, creatively decorated halls of our new community school to start first grade. She bounced right into her classroom, sat at her desk, and immediately started catching up with her friends, many of whom she already knows from church and other neighborhood gatherings. After snapping several pictures, Brett went to the back of the room and chatted with a handful of other camera-laden parents, until he realized that all the parents—himself included—were actually hanging around the classroom for themselves, not for their children. The kids were all perfectly fine, thank you very much. (What a difference a year makes!) So he finally waved good-bye and headed home.

From day one, Boo has absolutely loved her class. It helps that the new school is Western-themed, so for our horse-loving daughter, it’s a dream come true. (Horses, horses, everywhere!)

At the end of the first week, Boo came home with a note from the teacher saying she had been selected as “Ranch Hand of the Week” and could bring a few pictures to share with the class. Not surprisingly, she made a beeline for my closet, in search of the dozens of photos we took during our summer trek to Aunt Jude’s horse farm in North Carolina.

As she was sorting through the pile of pictures and deciding which ones to bring to school (the one of her riding gentle Tessie... the one where she’s grooming the more rambunctious Bill… one of her helping walk the feisty foal Jake back to the stable…), she said to me, rather offhandedly, “You know what, Mom? If Ms. F’s class was like a body, then Ms. F would be the brain. Right, Mom?”

You'd think I'd be used to these totally off-the-wall questions by now.

Um, where on earth did THAT come from? Did Brett preach about the Bible’s analogy of the church being a body recently? Deciding to just wait and see where this was headed, I commented, “Sure, honey. That sounds about right. Your teacher would be the brain of the class.”

Boo was quiet for the next minute or so as she continued to sort through her pictures. Then she looked up at me and said, “Well, if Ms. F is the brain, I know what I would be.”

“What’s that, honey?” Since we were looking at pictures of the horse farm, I was thinking, Maybe the cowboy hat? The spurs?

Instead, I was completely surprised at her answer:

“If my class were a body,” she continued, “I’d be the smile.”

I thought my heart would simply burst with pride.

Yes, honey, that’s exactly what you’d be.

What's Gonna Happen?

“Mama, what’s gonna happen to me?”

Keeping my eyes on the road while trying to keep the frustration out of my voice, I assured JJ for the umpteenth time, “The doctor is just going to check you out and make sure you’re strong and healthy. Everything’s going to be just fine, honey.”

We were on our way to JJ’s five-year and Buddy’s two-year well visit at the pediatrician this afternoon. Since their birthdays are only one day apart, and since I had already confirmed that they wouldn’t need any immunizations, I decided to combine their appointments this year to save some time.

Buddy was nestled in his car seat behind me, contentedly watching an Elmo movie. He’s perfectly fine with doctor’s visits. Come to think of it, he’s perfectly fine with pretty much everything.

But JJ is a completely different story. We’re very grateful that, unlike our other children, JJ has no ongoing medical issues. But that blessing presents a small problem: because she hasn’t been around doctors and hospitals much, JJ is very apprehensive about them.

Okay, let’s be honest here: she’s flat-out terrified of going to the doctor.

As we pulled up to the doctor’s office, JJ had worked herself into we Texas gals call “a walleyed fit,” insisting with much weeping and gnashing of teeth that no way was she going to see the doctor today, thank you very much!

It took a little bribery and a lot of patience, but I finally coaxed JJ out of the car.

As the three of us walked into the doctor’s office, she gripped my left hand tightly and peered up at me, her blue eyes wet with worry. “Mama, what’s gonna happen to me?”

“Everything’s going to be just fine, honey,” I assured her, trying not to look as aggravated as I felt at having to answer that question yet again. JJ nodded, clinging desperately to my hand.

Somewhere between balancing my purse and diaper bag on my shoulder, one-handedly pulling out my driver's license and insurance card from my wallet, signing in the kids, and using my leg to block Buddy, who had let go of my right hand and was ready to bolt across the waiting room, it hit me:

How many times have I asked God that same question the past few years?

What’s gonna happen to Boo? Will her eyes ever be okay, or will she lose her vision entirely?
What’s gonna happen to our family when we move out here to start a church with no income?
What’s gonna happen to our kids when they go to school and I’m not there to protect them?
What’s gonna happen when we have our kickoff service this Sunday?

And on and on and on.

Like a worried five-year-old, anxious about a doctor’s visit she doesn’t understand, how many times do we face the unknown future with fear, rather than trust?

And when God takes us through something we don't want to do, how many times do we throw a walleyed fit? Oh, I don’t mean an actual kicking-and-screaming kind of tantrum, like JJ’s (although that might happen!). I mean that dig-in-your-heels kind of attitude that says, No way am I going to do that thing You’re asking me to do, God, thank you very much!

Yet every time we protest, and every time we ask God again, for the umpteenth time, “What’s gonna happen . . .?”—our loving heavenly Father patiently assures us, I’ve got it under control, honey. Trust Me.

I'd like to be able to say that I no longer worry about the future. But the truth is, I do. Especially when it comes to my family. So the next time I’m anxious and afraid, I hope that—like my sweet, worried little JJ—I will reach out and cling desperately to my Father’s hand.

And you know what?

No matter what the future holds, everything’s going to be just fine.

The Best-Laid Plans . . .

In May 1995, with my newly framed (and, as my husband would point out, oddly enormous) Texas A&M diploma adorning the wall in my tiny apartment, I began my first day as the public relations coordinator for Word Publishing. One of the perks of my new job was when my boss handed me a Franklin Covey catalog and told me to pick whatever I wanted. Anything!

To an organized, detail-driven gal like me, it was a dream come true.

I chose a classic leather binder in—what else?—Aggie maroon, with two-page monthly calendar inserts and all the accessories a girl could want, even the combo ruler/page trimmer/calculator! My day planner was absolutely indispensible during my years in-house at Word.

Fast-forward thirteen years. I still use the same Franklin Covey planner and two-page monthly calendar inserts. I’ve pared down most of the accessories over the years, but one thing hasn’t changed. Each time I open my planner, I see the words I wrote all those years ago on the very front page:

The mind of man plans his way,
But the Lord directs his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9

It’s an ongoing reminder for me that no matter how much I plan and organize and take care of the details, ultimately God is in charge of what happens.

That lesson has hit home for us the past few weeks. Here are just a few snapshots of how God has rearranged our plans:

• In the middle of writing his sermon, Brett’s hard drive on his laptop unexpectedly crashes—losing not only his sermon, but also files and promotional materials that will need to be recreated for our church.
• As I’m preparing the kids’ lunches for a church picnic, I hear a smack! and a scream, followed by JJ holding her head, drenched in blood. A close encounter with a plastic golf club resulted in a gash on her forehead that will have to be glued in the ER.
• One afternoon, Brett suddenly doubles over in excruciating pain, so I hurriedly load the kids in the minivan and rush him to the hospital. The next few days are filled with doctor’s appointments and tests and blood work to diagnose and treat the problem.

Whew! Everything I had neatly penned into my trusty planner’s calendar spaces suddenly changed. Apparently, God had something else in mind for our family.

And the same is true for The Church at Sendera Ranch. It’s been a week of prayerfully thinking on our feet:

• When the designer for our door hangers fell through at the last minute, we scrambled to create the piece and get it to the printer lightning-fast to be ready to distribute on Saturday morning.
• When our expanding children’s ministry outgrew their current meeting space, we arranged another location for kids to meet this Sunday—with room to grow.
• When we found out that the worship leader we’ve been waiting for isn’t able to come after all, God blessed us with another, very gifted person to lead worship for our kickoff service this Sunday.

(In a recent e-mail, an author described church planting as “dancing on a moving floor.” Yes, my friend, that’s exactly what it’s like!)

So what do you do when your best laid plans, as the poet said, go awry? Like we did this past week, you close your day planner and prayerfully search out what God is up to. And then, as Blackaby and King suggest in Experiencing God, you join Him where He is already at work.

The past few weeks, God has been directing our steps in ways we hadn’t even considered. And He wants us to trust Him to provide what is necessary to reach our community with the great news that He is changing lives for good.

I'm finally starting to accept the reality that things here, on the front lines of God's work in our family and our community, may not always fit neatly in my daily planner. So keeping Proverbs 16:19 in mind--and writing in pencil now--we are making lots of exciting plans, and the Lord is clearly directing our steps.

I can't wait to see what God has in store for The Church at Sendera Ranch as we officially kick off on September 7, and during the weeks and months and years ahead as He continues to grow and develop His church!

Living with All My Might

One of my random personal traditions is that each year, on my birthday, I reread the resolutions of Jonathan Edwards, most of which he penned at age nineteen and read once a week for the rest of his life.

Each year, at least one of Edwards’s resolutions stands out as something I’d like to include in my own life. (In fairness, I don’t necessarily agree with all of the resolutions; for example, I have been known to crack a joke or two on Sundays, unlike #38!) Some years, I’ve been inspired by Edwards’s resolutions on Bible study, faithfulness, and living for God’s glory. Other years, I’ve been impressed with his resolutions on time management and temperance. One year in particular, I took to heart his resolution not to speak evil about anyone or “suffer anger toward irrational beings.” (Suffice it to say that pastoral ministry can be really hard sometimes, which is probably why Edwards included these statements!)

This year, I paused at resolution #6:

Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live.

I’ve read right past that one before. After all, it’s early on the list, and there are more than sixty others to get to. But this time, I stopped right here, at resolution #6, and said a hearty amen.

That’s exactly what I’m going to do this year—live with all my might.

As I reflected on the past year, I realized that my thoughts all too often began with the word someday. As in, Someday, when our medical bills aren’t so high, we’ll be able to take a fun family vacation. Someday, when the demands of church planting aren’t quite as life-consuming, we’ll finally get on a “normal” schedule. Someday, when the kids are all in school, I’ll start writing again. And on and on.

But this year, I’ve resolved to live with all my might. I'll stop talking about someday and start figuring out ways to make things happen today, right now, in the context of our life and family and current circumstances.

So I’m going to find inexpensive ways to have fun with the kids, from catching perch in our neighborhood pond to going to free Fridays at the museum. And though pastoring The Church at Sendera Ranch will always be a major life commitment, I am so grateful for the opportunity to be part of God's amazing work here in our community. Plus, I'm finally writing for fun again—I've started this blog!

From on outsider’s perspective, not much has changed from last year. Our kids are still very young, our finances are still very tight, and our time is still very limited. And yet here is my resolution:

Every day of my thirty-fifth year, I am resolved to live with all my might, so that God can use me to emblazon His glory on my family and friends and neighbors, while I do live.