I push pixels. Tiny dots that make up a picture. I move them. Sometimes I add to them. Sometimes I take away from them. Sometimes I remove them completely. I attempt to tell a story with images. And I do this for a church. Which then somehow moves back to the original question since many people believe that if you work for a church you only work on Sundays. Oh, silly, naive people that make way more money than me!

One of my primary roles is to create key art for our sermon series. This is probably where I put most of my creative juices. When other ministries come to me for art, they have a vague idea of what they want. But the sermon series really and truly starts as a blank slate. I work on a great team of creatives and we sit and we brainstorm ideas based off a few paragraphs of text given to us by our head pastor. For the series we’re in now, he already had a title he wanted to use. “Restore.” It was our role to come up with an idea that could tell that story. We thought about the image of restoring a car. Or a piece of furniture. But we knew that the series was going to be about so much more than that. It was about restoring our world. So we threw out movies like “I am Legend” and “The Book of Eli” and the TV show “The Walking Dead” and even the video game “Fallout.” Scenes that show total destruction and hopelessness. What if we were to somehow merge that with the beauty originally found in the Garden of Eden? Could it work? Could that paint a picture?

I contacted a photographer, Eric Spiegel, and asked him to take some pictures downtown that I could then destroy in Photoshop. At first he came back with some images of the Lincoln Monument, which, while I could destroy, I could probably also be labeled a traitor and an anarchist. So I asked him to go back and find something that wasn’t political in nature. This is the picture he came back with.

The next step was to start transforming that image into something ugly. Something destroyed. Something devoid of life. So I had to remove the people from the image. I had to remove all light from the streetlights and headlamps and brake lights on the cars and vehicles in the shot. I needed to break some windows in the buildings. Dirty them up. Replace the flags with tattered versions. Add some graffiti. Deaden the trees and foliage. Add some trash to the ground. Crack the pavement and add grass coming up from it. Remove the existing sky and replace it with something dark and ominous.

But how could I do that while still showing the beauty that was the original picture? I decided to take a hand holding a polaroid picture. I removed the existing image in the polaroid and replaced it with my own. Throw some text on the frame and we’re done!

How long did it take to make from start to finish? About 1 week of working time. I used a piece of software that took a screenshot of whatever was on my screen every 5 seconds. At the end it created a movie. So here’s the time-lapse movie of the creation of “Restore.” And that, my friends, is what a designer does all day.

I’m not a big fan of waiting. Whether it’s traffic jams or restaurants or Starbucks, I just don’t have a lot of patience for waiting. Which is really tricky when the Bible tells us to “wait on the Lord.” I, like most people, would rather have the Lord wait on us. Of course, we don’t actually say that. That would show weakness. People might talk. It might tarnish our “Super Christian” badge.

The problem is that a big part of our life is made up of waiting. We want to start driving when we’re 11 but have to wait 5 more years. We want to drink but have to wait till we’re 21…or have a good friend that hit puberty early and can grow a full beard in 8th grade. We want to get married but have to wait till someone says “yes.” We want that job but have to wait to go through the interview process. And then wait while they interview others even though we know that there couldn’t possibly be anyone more qualified. Then we get the job and immediately want to retire.

We do a lot of waiting. Some of it is natural. Some of it is hard. Some of it keeps us up at night. And then we get the answer to our waiting. And sometimes it’s great. And obviously, sometimes it’s not. But the problem I face is that sometimes that answer defines me. Sometimes a “no” destroys my self esteem. And at the same time, a “yes” inflates my ego.

I’m in a period of waiting right now. And as strange as it may seem, I’m okay with not knowing the answer. Because the situation is so important to me, I’m afraid of what the answer might do. I’m afraid that if I hear the word “no,” that I will slip into a default mode of, “well, that makes sense. I’m no good. I’ll never be good enough to do that. I’m a failure.” A negative answer could easily define the way I think about myself and my ministry and my purpose. And that’s not good. But at the same time, a “yes” could also affect me negatively. If I hear “yes” and think that I have it all together, that the monkey is off my back, that I deserve this in some way, then I’ve still let the answer define me in an unhealthy way.

I believe that God wants me to see myself the same way no matter what the answer is. No matter what the circumstances are. Only then am I seeing myself the way God does. If I let situations dictate my self esteem then I will always just be one situation away from a Xanax. No matter how many “yes” answers I receive, eventually someone is going to say “no.” What then? It’s a roller coaster ride and it’s not one that God intends for me. Or for you.

What are the things you’re waiting on? And will your self esteem be defined by the answer? If so, you’re on a slippery path. I’m on a slippery path. I’m training for yet another marathon, and I know without a doubt that I will look back on this race as a success or failure based simply on whether I do or don’t hit a certain time. That’s not healthy. It’s also not healthy for my to overlook all the hard work I’m putting in just because I’m not as fast as so and so.

Waiting is tough. But waiting can also be a time that we allow God to assure us of who we are regardless of the answer. The waiting can be a forming and transforming time for us if we allow it. If you don’t get the job you so richly covet, will you walk away feeling worthless? What about if you don’t get a raise when those around you do? What if you’re still single while all your friends are planning weddings? These moments of waiting can stress us out. We can hinge our worth on the outcome. I have so many times. And I wish I hadn’t. I’d be in such a better place if I hadn’t. But I did. And the only thing I can do is to learn from those mistakes and to use the next period of waiting as a time to let God speak into my life. “Regardless of the outcome, you are loved.”

I think the same can be said when we use Christianese with people that aren’t Christ followers. And there are three statements we use that especially drive me nuts. I got thinking about it the other day when I heard someone talking at a meeting and they dropped a Christianese bomb, a C-bomb. I wanted to laugh but it wouldn’t have been appropriate.

Christianese Phrase O’ Frustration #1: “I’ll pray for you.” We throw that one out a lot. We hear a someone tell us a story of woe and that seems to be our go to response. I refuse to use it. It’s not that I won’t pray for them. But maybe that’s not what they’re looking for. Maybe they just want to be heard. Maybe they don’t understand the power of prayer and makes no sense that they just laid out their pain and we give a trite answer. If I’m going to pray for someone, I’m not going to say, “I’ll pray for you.” Why should I wait till later? If I feel that’s the step I need to take, I’ll offer to pray right then. Right there. If I’m not willing to do that, I will listen and keep my mouth shut.

Christianese Phrase O’ Frustration #2: Ending my emails in “In Him” or some other spiritual ending. Once again, there are times when that salutation might be appropriate, but to set that as my default signature is just plain silly. Because now when I forward you YouTube cat videos I somehow am trying to let you know that I’m sending this to you “In Him.” I think God loves cats. I’m not sure why, but I’m sure He does. But I’m also sure I’m not sending you the cat video in Christ’s name. Or responding to your lunch invitation. Or bulk emailing pictures of my children.

Christianese Phrase O’ Frustration #3: Referring to pre-marital sex, homosexuality, or any other complexity of sexuality as “living in sin.” This one really irks me on so many levels. It escalates sex to a level of sinfulness that is somehow ranked higher than other sins. When someone doesn’t pay taxes; when someone cheats to get ahead; when someone takes out another credit card to go further in debt…we don’t refer to these situations as “living in sin.” We just refer to them as situations. But somehow when sex is involved, all of a sudden “they’re in sin.” Aren’t these other situations sinful? Aren’t we all living in sin? So why do we assign a label to these sexual situations? All we do is alienate and confuse. Do I believe these are sinful situations? Absolutely. Do I think we need to escalate them and make people less valuable because of the decisions they’ve made? Absolutely not.

I know that I need to watch what I say to people. How I say it. How it might be perceived. I need to make sure I don’t write emails when I’m angry or can’t sleep. Nothing good can come of that. But I also need to watch what I say as a follower of Christ. How I use language when talking with others that aren’t Christians. I need to make sure I use language that is understandable. That isn’t trite. That doesn’t label. If I don’t, I’ll lose the opportunity to share the most amazing stories ever because they will walk away confused and frustrated. So if you’ll just pray for me as I navigate this, I’d appreciate it!

We spent all last week back in Florida visiting friends, and it definitely doesn’t seem like a year since I left my job to move North. And as I was driving the family back to Viriginia on Saturday, I was thinking of all the things that have happened in the past year and it was fairly staggering. In just a three week span in July of 2010, we had a new baby, sold our house in Florida, bought a townhome in Virginia, said goodbye to friends and coworkers, moved, and started a new job. Toby started a new grade at a new school. I completed my first and second marathons and signed up for a third this October. We’ve had to make new friends. Join new small groups. I became a 10th grade small group leader for one school year and got to give one talk to high schoolers. I’ve joined a creative arts team that can go toe to toe with any around. I made a good friend only to have to say goodbye as he and his family moved to Oregon. I lost an aunt to cancer. Our neighborhood had a break in and shooting. I paid off my car and avoided the temptation to trade it in and get a new one. I used power tools without losing any fingers.

All in all, it’s been a busy year. Full of ups and downs. And I’ll be honest. Today’s a downer. A day where I wonder if I made the right decision. Should I have uprooted my family from Florida? Was the grass really greener on the other side of the fence? Last week in Florida, reuniting with my running partner for a few steamy morning runs was amazing. Having coffee with my missionary friend from China was refreshing. Spending time the family that hosted us was one of the highlights of our trip. Seeing Toby hugging his best friend and jumping up and down was magical. Did I make a mistake?

As I got to talk with all these people and share our stories from the year, despite the struggles we’ve faced, especially with Toby meeting and making new friends at a new school, I think it was obvious to both sides, that God led us here. Our time in Florida was crucial to my development, both as a designer, and as a follower of Christ. As a runner. As a husband. As a father. As a storyteller. An introvert. An injured spirit. Those 4 years in Jacksonville forced me to face each and every one of those aspects of my life. And I left more whole and more restored than I’ve ever felt. God had me in Florida for a reason. And God has led me to Virginia for a reason. And just like I found out in Florida, it’s probably going to be more than just as a designer.

Last month, a ton of people got baptized here at Fairfax Community Church. Most of them, I had never seen before in my life. But one of them, 8 year old Cassie Grace, was someone that I knew. She’s the daughter of friends that we used to know when we were in Virginia way back when. They hadn’t been going to church lately and when we moved up here we threw out a blanket invite to them to join us some weekend. Not only did they join us, they never left after that. And less than a year later, their daughter professed her faith in Christ and was baptized.

Did we do that? Heavens no. But we can already see ways that God has been at work in our lives. How the decisions we make have ripple effects all around us. I’ve joined a running group and I’ve already worked through that awkward question and answer session once they found out I work for a church. One of the guys has asked me to join him on Mondays for speedwork and I’m excited to see what that might mean as we sweat and talk and get to know each other. Little ripples. And at the same time, if you read my last blog about the anonymous call that brought up my past, you’ll know that those ripples have effects too. Ripples that have already changed my landscape here.

No matter where you find yourself, God has you there for a reason. You are making ripples even if you can’t see them. On days like today, I have to write these things down to remind myself. I had tweeted that I was having a really hard day and within minutes my phone blew up with texts from people expressing love. A Facebook message from a designer letting me know they had prayed for me. A tweet from a coworker with this verse: “Gal 5:1 It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Wow. The ripples aren’t just going out from me. They are coming in towards me as well. And that, in a nutshell, has been my year.

The hard part about having a past is that sometimes people find out about it. Whether it’s face to face or Facebook to Facebook, or word of mouth, or word of mouths, that’s when it gets tricky. I had that happen this week. And I’ll be honest. I was rattled. I wasn’t expecting it. And as I sat there and listened and processed to what had been said and how I would respond I kept having two thoughts run through my head. One was of God, and one was of man. And as I continue to process it, I’m not sure which side is winning.

On one side, the side of God, I have said that I will refuse to live in fear or shame of my past. It’s part of my story. It’s part of my journey. And even though I’d give anything to go back in time and change it, I cling to the words of Scripture that remind me that God uses even the bad stuff in our lives for good. It doesn’t make my actions okay. It’s not a way to rationalize what I did. It’s just the fact that I went through immense pain. I journeyed through the desert. I met Christ in my darkest hour, told him my whole story and found, not condemnation, but reconciliation and restoration. No anonymous phone calls or emails or gossip will take that away from me.

But there’s another side that is equally as powerful. And that’s this. As a Psalmist might say, “How long, O Lord, must I suffer?” How long will I be reminded of my failure? As the years have gone by, the consequences have remained. I keep thinking of my life as a book. An autobiography of sorts. And I’m ready for this event to take its place in the book as a paragraph, maybe a chapter. But I keep living as if it’s the preface. The first thing that people see when they look at me. The thing they’ll remember the longest.

So two powerful thoughts. I will not live in fear and shame. But I’ve placed this as the preface to my life. One from God. One from man. One that I want to believe and cling to. The other that I default to.

I’m fighting the default mechanism because I want grace to win. I want grace to have the final word in my life. In my transparency I want people to see that even though I’ve made mistakes, I’ve been redeemed by a Savior that still thought I was valuable enough to save. And I’ve been surrounded by people that have believed just that. People that could have just believed the preface but have chosen to read the entire book as it’s been written so far. People who have spent time with me listening to my story and hearing the ways God has been a part of this journey. People who have laughed and cried with me. People who have told me that they were blessed to know me and call me friend.

So this has been a crazy week. An anonymous phone call meant to do harm has surrounded me with more love and assurance than a ton of Hallmark cards could ever manage. God continues to be at work in me. God is not finished with me yet. And I’m so thankful to be in a place that doesn’t just talk about grace, but lives it. In word and deed. I am restored and redeemed. I will not live in fear and shame. Just sometimes I get tired of being reminded of my past.

I don’t know how she does it. I don’t know how any mother does it. Balancing groceries in one arm, toddlers in another. Changing diapers while cooking dinner. Bathing one child while another finishes homework. And still have enough sanity to hug their husband who’s been away all day at “work.” The real work was done at home. I just get out of the way and try and make some money so we can continue feeding the kids and having a place to lay our heads.

I’m so glad God created me with boy parts. I felt so restless last night. I felt like I should be doing something. Mowing something. Painting something. Designing something. Something. The idea of laying on the floor and watching a 10 month old crawl around, only to go pick them up and turn them in a new direction when they get too close to the drapes is not my idea of purpose. I feel the need to provide. To do. I don’t nurture. It was only three hours, but I was stir crazy.

So as we hit Mother’s Day tomorrow, I can’t do anything but be grateful, not only for the mother that Jen is to our two sons, and the wife she is to me, but also to my own mother. She always said that she hoped I had children just like me. At one time I thought that was a compliment. Now I know it’s just payback. But I’m so grateful that she didn’t kill me, and that ebay and craigslist weren’t around yet for her to sell me. Mothers are unique. They are precious. They are skilled in ways I never will be. They have endurance greater than any ultramarathoner, and love second only to God Himself. They are caregivers. Medics. Counselors. Playdates. Hostage negotiators. Cooks. Couriers. Chauffers. Librarians. Tutors. Teachers. Janitors. Hazardous waste removers. Artists. Musicians. They’re always “it.” They’ll always respond and inwardly hold their breath to, “mommy, watch this!” They’ll never tire of hugs or snuggle time no matter how old the child gets. They are full of love and grace and mercy and pride. They are the embodiment of everything we want our children to grow up to be. And I am so grateful for my mom, and for my wife. Two of the greatest mothers ever. Happy Mothers Day.

I had asked Andy when he thought he’d hit one of the aid stations, my best bet at seeing him. So I had a timeframe to work in and showed up a few minutes late. I saw people coming in and going back out but no Andy. I was a little worried that I had missed him, but finally a few minutes later, there he was, charging up the steps to the aid station. When he saw me he came and gave me a big sweaty hug and fist bump and was on his way off again. That was it. About 15 seconds of action and he was gone again.

I could spend the rest of this blog and many others talking about my buddy Andy. I’ve known him less than a year, but his effect on me goes beyond time. I’ve learned discipline from him. Dedication. Passion. Endurance. And I can’t capture how proud I am of him for not only finishing the Bull Run 50-miler, but finishing well, in 8 hours and 48 minutes on an extremely hilly trail that was muddy and waterlogged. He is an ultrarunner to be reckoned with.

But what I really want to comment on is what I saw at the aid station. And on the little part of the trail that I could see. I’ve only run a couple of trail races. And by a couple, I mean one. I’ve largely run on roads. The marathons I’ve run have been on roads. And there is a sense of comraderie in the marathon, but nothing like what I witnessed on the trail that morning. I’ve heard it said that life isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon. But I’m going to take it further and say it’s not even a marathon. It needs to be an ultramarathon.

In a marathon, the road is wide. There is plenty of room to pass others. If you want, you never have to talk to anyone or acknowledge anyone. But in a trail ultra, the path is narrow. It requires physical contact and communication. I saw people that were about to pass another run that would put their hand on that person’s shoulder to let them know they were there and about to pass. But in the passing, they would congratulate the runner. Tell them they’re looking great. To keep it up. To keep pushing. There was a touch and an encouragement. If someone were to touch me in a marathon I would have flinched away from them not knowing what was going on. But in the all the passes I witnessed, no one flinched. It was expected. It was welcomed. And the encouragement flowed freely. Every person on the trail, no matter how fast or slow, was in this together. Yes, it was a race. But it was also a journey. And the competitors saw that in one another.

I’ve always seen life as a marathon. Long, painful, but keep pushing and get to the finish. What I’ve neglected to see is the people around me. The physical touch of those in the journey with me. The encouragement of others in my journey. My encouragement of others in their journey. It’s not a solitary thing. The path is narrow. We need people in our lives that will help us navigate the bumps and hills and rocks of life. We need the touch of others that let us know we’re not alone out there. We need the encouragement of others that have gone ahead of us. And we need to encourage others that are in a place that we’ve navigated through previously. Life isn’t a marathon. It’s an ultramarathon.

I was doing announcements at church. Something I do once a month. Something I like doing. It’s usually just three events and then get off the stage. But I see it as an opportunity. An opportunity to get people to let their guards down to what church is all about. A chance to get people to laugh and relax. An opportunity to use humor in a simple but fun way. And over the last few months, I’ve had people come up to me and tell me how much they enjoy it when I do announcements. Which is always fun to hear. But this past weekend I was announcing an event that had the tagline, “Expect the Unexpected.” It was an event that the ministry team didn’t want to show their hand as to what was going to take place. They wanted to raise an air of mystery and intrigue. And apparently it worked because it sold out. But the thing that caught me off guard was that someone came up to me and asked me if I was going to be doing a stand up comedy routine at the event. At the time I laughed it off. I told him that that would be unexpected but we wanted people to actually come to the event, so no, I wouldn’t be doing that.

But as I drove home Sunday night I started thinking about it. Because that’s been my dream. My big dream. Since I was in high school. Make people laugh. Take the stage and use the gifts God has given me to make people forget their pains and struggles for even just a few minutes and make them laugh. But I’ve never done it. Never taken the stage. Never written material. Never expressed this dream to others. Why? Because I don’t want to fail?  Because I’m afraid I’d try and find out that I’m like so many American Idol auditioners that actually have no talent? That just because someone tells you that you’re hilarious doesn’t make it so? Because I’ve convinced myself that I can just use the announcements and various youth ministry talks as an outlet for that dream?

I honestly don’t know. But it’s been on my mind ever since that man approached me. What if I was given the opportunity to do stand up somewhere? What if I was the Unexpected at this event? Could I do it? Would I do it? I think I’d like to.

What about you? What is that dream that you long for but are afraid to actually express? Not only because you might fail, but because people might actually hold you accountable to try? Dreams are scary. But I think dreams are also put in us by God. So what are you going to do about yours?

First, I need to brag. I know some names. Not a lot. But important ones. Rod. My pastor. John. My boss. Chris. The woman that signs my paycheck. For the most part, if I were quizzed on staff names, I would pass. If I were quizzed on names in my small group of 10th grade boys that I lead, I would pass. If I were quizzed on names in the small group I attend, I’d get a C-. But I’ve passed that socially acceptable time frame where it’s okay to ask someone’s name again. I should have spoken up. I didn’t. Now they’ve become part of the population that I refer to as “guy” and “buddy.”

The first week here, I was greatly intimidated by those I work with. Now I’m just excited to be working with so many talented people. There’s something special about being part of something that is so much bigger than yourself. I’m humbled by the giftedness all around me. Staff. Volunteers. This is truly a special place.

Over the last 6 months, I’ve been given opportunities to use some of my gifts outside of design. Gifts of humor and speaking. I’m a regular on the “announcements” circuit even though I continually mock those that need gluten free communion wafers. Funny story though. I might have an allergy to gluten myself. Wouldn’t that just be a kick in the keister? And of course, I’d never admit that from the stage. But I think it’s funny.

A couple of weeks ago I was given the chance to speak to high schoolers for the first time in almost three years. I found out the night before so there wasn’t much time to get nervous or even to prepare for that matter. But I did what I do best. I made them laugh. And while they were laughing I slipped in some Jesus before they could figure out what I was doing. But I also came to the realization that I’m in the “grandparent” mode when it comes to youth ministry. For so long, I did youth ministry and loved it. And when I left it I always thought I’d come back to it one day. But after speaking, Jen asked me if I was getting the itch. The itch meaning that desire to get back into youth ministry, not an actual itch caused by fungus or lice. But I told her I didn’t. I was like my parents when they come visit Toby and Lucas. They love them while they’re with them, but they’re more than content to give them back to us when it’s time for them to leave. And I think that’s where I am in youth ministry. I’d gladly speak anywhere, anytime. But I’ll gladly walk away and leave the kids with their own leaders.

Looking back over what I’ve just read, you’d think the last 7 months were all roses and butterflies. But it hasn’t been. Toby has had the hardest time of all of us adjusting to a new place. A new school. A new baby brother. A new church. It’s been hard on him, and at times my heart breaks for him. Is my new job and happiness worth the unhappiness that I’ve put him through? People say that kids are resilient, and they are, but does that make it right? He’s made friends, but none like the ones he had in Florida, and even when we went to Myrtle Beach a few weeks ago for my marathon, he was able to play one day with a church friend from Florida. And he was happier in that one day than we’ve seen him in months. Another dagger to the heart. We’ve just been trying to love on him every chance we get and be understanding to what this life change has meant for him.

So how do I put a bow around these first 7 months in Virginia? They’ve definitely been way more than I expected. I never thought I’d be doing the things I’ve done in my job. I never thought I’d have completed 2 marathons in the last 3 months. I didn’t think I’d be able to rekindle some of the relationships I have. I didn’t think I’d be okay living in a townhouse or working in an office with 3 people. God has surprised me in many ways. He’s stretched me in many ways. He’s challenged me personally and spiritually. He’s opened people’s hearts and homes to me and my family. He’s stretched my wife and my son. And we continue to struggle just as we continue to prosper. I said it after one week and I say it after 7 months. God has us here for a purpose. His purpose. And our job is to continue to seek that out. To be open to new challenges. To be surprised by his love. And maybe even find out I’m allergic to gluten. Who knew?

But for some god awful stupid dumbass reason, I had the thing turned off when we were down in Myrtle Beach a couple weekends ago for my marathon. Why did I have it turned off? Was it because I knew my way around? Nope. I’d never been there before. Was it because I was exploring? Nope. I had a definite destination. Red Robin Restaurant. Was it because I was alone and it didn’t really matter? Nope. I had my 8 year old son in the back seat. And it was night. And foggy. And it had been a long day.

We had spent 10 hours in the car already, driving from home to Myrtle Beach, a teething 7 month old child strapped in his seat, screaming nonstop the whole way. And an 8 year old that was begging the 7 month old to stop crying. And a 38 year old begging his wife to make the baby stop crying. So as we arrived at our hotel, our nerves were shot. Our eardrums were a little on the sketchy side as well. But Toby and I decided to drop Jen and Lucas at the hotel and we’d go find some dinner. As we were driving the strip, I got a text from a friend that was in town for the marathon as well and he told me that he and his family had eaten at Red Robin. That sounded great. I asked him where it was. He told me it was on 17. Awesome. We were on 17. So through the fog we drove. And drove. And drove. And I didn’t see a Red Robin. So I texted Jeff and asked him where on 17 it was. 21st and 17 was the response. I was now at 4th and 17. So I turned around and got back to 21st. No Red Robin. He texted me the address. I tried to use my iPhone and look at the map. Cars were passing me. Toby was getting frustrated. I was getting frustrated. Then I made the discovery that still baffles me. There’s two different roads called Highway 17. Cuz that makes sense.

I found the correct Highway 17 and started towards Red Robin when I saw out of the corner of my eye a Firehouse Subs. That sounded even better. So I tried to navigate back to it, only to find it was closed. At this point, I was seething. I was trying not to say anything I’d regret with an 8 year old in the car with me. I was relegated to outburts of “dadgum it” and “come on!” Finally, I had had enough. I jerked the car over to the side of the road and pulled out the GPS. Should have done it 30 minutes earlier. Found the Red Robin and entered it as my destination. Got on the right road and was headed in the right direction when all of a sudden the GPS told me, “Turn right.” I had to slam on the brakes and swerve to make the turn. In the process, Toby’s DVD player that had been sitting on the middle console comes flying into the gear shift, putting us in park. That was it! I picked up the DVD player and threw it on the floor. Toby starts crying in the backseat and just wants to go home. I felt like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation when everyone is trying to go home and I’m telling them, “No, no, we’re gonna have the hap hap happiest Christmas this side of….”

So why didn’t I use the GPS? Because someone told me it was easy to find. I didn’t think I’d need it. A friend told me where to go. Had the friend been to Myrtle Beach before? Nope. Yet, I chose to follow his lead over the lead of a GPS. Absolute stupid decision. I ended up lost. Geographically lost. And a temper that was lost. I had blown it as a dad and role model. I had to apologize to Toby for the way I acted. Plus, he tattled on my anyways.

I wish this was an isolated event, but I do the same thing all the time when I listen to others around me without checking what Scripture might have to say about a situation. I take the word of TV, radio, movies, and other Christians over the word of God. How stupid is that? And as a result. I end up lost. Spiritually. Relationally. Emotionally. And some of that can be avoided if I check with the right source first. Why do I insist on my own stupidity? Who knows. I just know I won’t be in the mood for Red Robin for a long long time.