There’s a question that I hope stays with you for a while.

It’s a question that helps me a lot when I’m frozen, fearful, or faithless. It usually points me in the direction of God’s best for my life (the big things and the small things), even as I find myself running the other way.

It helps to keep things in perspective and unlocks hidden desires and a hurricane of potential.

Okay, enough of the setup. Here’s the question:

What would you do if you were fearless and full of faith?

A question like this cuts through so much of life’s bologna, so much of the stuff that sloooows us down, and brings us right to the precipice of decision and action. Ultimately, a question like this leads to fulfilling the deepest desires God has planted within.

God’s word says in Psalm 37:4 “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will bring about the desires of your heart.”

For me then to ‘delight in the Lord’ is to approach God without fear and with a certain fullness of faith - both are required. I can’t delight in someone that scares me or to believe (and act on the idea) that God has created me with a mission in mind without faith.

Ultimately how we answer this question isn’t even about us, I believe it’s about finding our part in the bigger story that precedes us in life and will be around long after we are gone. A question like this can unlock the unique ‘dent’ that we were designed to make in this world - for God, for our growth, and for the good of many others.

I’ll ask it again, in reference to the big picture of your life (and the not so big picture - the every day, the ordinary):

What would you do if you were fearless and full of faith?

Backstory

Early on in marriage, my wife Jill and I learned we wouldn’t be able to have kids of our own. With this in mind we discerned that God was inviting us to become foster and adoptive parents. Over three short years thirteen kids came through our home and four stayed forever.

Building a family this way has been the hardest and best part of being married.

But here’s the thing. Our boys’ birthparents chose life. And Jill and I are forever grateful. Thank you Jesus!

Their story and the fact that they made it here alive inspired me to make the video: “Are We Ready for the End of Roe v. Wade?” If Roe v. Wade is overturned, more and more kids from unplanned, even crisis pregnancies will be born into this world. Who will step up to generously love and support these moms, dads, and kids in need?

While there are literally millions of different ways to love and serve families in this situation, I am inviting pro-lifer’s everywhere to open their heart to the possibility of engaging this need as foster or adoptive parents.

This particular call isn’t for everyone, but I believe it is for many.

My sincere and prayerful hope is that through this simple video, God would plant the seeds of this call in the hearts and minds of hundreds, even thousands of people.

And breathe life into a revolution of care.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: What are you trying to accomplish with this video? I created this video for two reasons. First, I want to spark conversation among pro-lifer’s around the question: “If Roe v. Wade is overturned, what more will need to be done to serve and advance the cause of life?” Second, I want the video to be an opportunity for pro-lifer’s to consider, perhaps for the first time, a call to be foster or adoptive parents. I can’t imagine a better place for foster or adoptive placements than a happy, healthy, and holy pro-life family.

Q: What did you mean when you said that infertility was a gift?  That’s a good question. It was hard to decide whether or not I should include that line. Ultimately I thought the risk of turning off some and tuning out others (neither of which would ever be my goal), would be outweighed by the value of helping yet others look at this area of their marriage differently.

Infertility, reframed as an opportunity rather than an obstacle, has been an important part of our foster care and adoption story. It took many years for God to re-frame this cross in our hearts and minds; for him to reveal his deeper purposes, love, and provision through our inability to have kids of our own.

And, if it weren’t for infertility, there would be so many things that I love and hold dear that I never would have known or experienced; my four sons, extended years of worldwide mission in the early 2000s, growth and transformation in my relationship with God, deeper layers of insight related to who I am as a man, husband, and father, etc..

Rather than a perduring obstacle it has become a beautiful doorway to discover God’s incredible, unending love for me and my wife. So, in the truest sense of the word, it has become an irreplaceable gift.

Q: I’d like to learn more about becoming a foster or adoptive parent. What should I do next? 

I would suggest two things.

First, talk with a foster or adoptive parent that you know, about their experience. This is something I wish my wife and I had done more of before we jumped in ourselves. We said ‘yes’ to foster care with great faith and hope and then figured out the details later (and it turns out the ‘reality’ of it all was really important). And before you meet or speak with someone about their personal experience prepare a list of questions to ensure the conversation is aimed at what you would really like to learn. Sometimes we foster/adoptive parents can ramble on about our experience and that isn’t always helpful. There is so much to process. :)

Second, I would take a look at the steps outlined on this webpage here. There is a lot of helpful information about the necessary steps to take to learn more about getting involved with adoption through foster-care.

Additionally, you might be interested in learning more about private or overseas adoption. Again, speaking with someone you know who has done either of those (private or overseas adoption) would be the best first step. And then asking them for further direction on which agency you could reach out to to learn more would be the best next step.

Q: As I learn more, how do I know if God is calling me to become a foster or adoptive parent (or both)? Through a combination of prayer, good counsel, and patient discernment, I believe God will make it very clear if this is His call for you.

First, through prayer, begin (or continue) a conversation with God that simply asks: “God, are you inviting us to become foster or adoptive parents?” As you have that conversation with God (and your spouse, of course), pay attention to the various ways God may want to communicate a response.

Second, through good counsel discuss your interests, desires, dreams, fears with a wise person that you trust. Allow them to ask you hard questions, to play ‘devil’s advocate’, and to speak truth into your life.

Finally, through patient discernment, take note of what is unfolding in front of you. Is a door opening or closing? Is it time now or later or not at all? Are your convictions growing or waning? If God is calling you to this there should be synergy between your desires, prayer, good counsel, and discernment. If there isn’t synergy among these areas (prayer, good counsel, and discernment) or there isn’t peace in your life about this decision, this may not be the right time.

Q: Are you planning to do more videos related to this topic?  I’m not sure. At this point, I’m going to wait and see what kind of response this video generates and what topics / questions emerge that might warrant additional videos or blog posts. What sort of topics do you think would be good to address as a followup? If something comes to mind, send it my way through the contact form on the about page.

Q: Are you launching a particular initiative with the release of this video? My goal has not been to ‘start something’, but rather to ask questions and engage in conversations with friends and strangers alike concerning the place of foster care and adoption in the broader Pro-Life movement, as well as the possible implications, in the future, if access to abortion is significantly decreased.

Q: Is this video connected to a particular pro-life organization?  No, it’s just me, my wife, and a trusty friend with a video camera. And while we are happy to personally support a few different pro-life organizations and a crisis pregnancy center locally, this video is not connected to any organization or non-profit.

Q: Who produced the video? Sacred Stories produced this video. You can find out more about them here. I think they did an outstanding job, but then again I’m pretty biased. *big grin emoji*

On November 28, 1998, the priest presiding at our wedding asked, “Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?” Jill and I answered, “We will.” In the moment, the question didn’t seem especially significant. We had no idea how profoundly it would impact and shape our married life.

Both Jill and I were cradle Catholics who came alive to our faith during college. We shared a vision for a life together on mission, and shortly after our marriage, we landed in Wellington, New Zealand, for the first of many evangelistic adventures. But just before we arrived for those months in the land of kiwi fruit, our life was turned upside down by a diagnosis of infertility. While we were growing as disciples of Christ, we were grieving as Mr. and Mrs.

“We Want to Be Their Parents.” We were confused, angry, and sad, but not defeated. Remembering our wedding day yes to children, we began imagining other ways God might want to bring kids into our home. Private and international adoption, working with birth moms considering abortion, adoption through foster care—each of these choices presented unique opportunities and daunting challenges. Our hearts moved toward foster care, the one option that didn’t seem to be attracting a long line of applicants.

In our first eighteen months as licensed foster parents, thirteen children came through our home. Some would return to their birth families; others would be adopted by another family member. Jill and I decided that if any of our foster kids didn’t have those possibilities, we wanted to be their parents. That’s how our family grew to include four boys, each one as lovable as he is unique.

Andrew is the barefoot snake lover and winner of pie-eating contests. Christian is the imaginative, tree-climbing bookworm. Then there’s Malachi, the high-energy, athletic, and risk-taking socialite. Finally, there’s Adam, the cautious, cerebral Lego master.

Adopting these boys turned out to be the easy part. Becoming a virtuous father for them is a much harder process—not because they are bad kids, but because the challenges they present have often mixed poorly with my dreams and expectations.

Mysteries and Mayhem. Growing up, I was a son who knew what was expected of me and gladly fulfilled those expectations. There wasn’t a rebellious bone in my body. Getting grounded or opposing my parents was foreign to me. Our home life was remarkably free of conflict. It was peaceful and happy, marked by deep mutual respect and great love for one another. From Sunday morning hikes to regular card games to cheering on our favorite sports team, our family genuinely enjoyed being together.

Naturally, this is how I envisioned my own family would be, even if it came together through foster care and adoption. Joy, love, mutual respect. It’s what families are made of, right? Why would ours be any different? But it hasn’t always been that simple.

While there have been times of profound love and happiness, my experience of being a dad has been marked by seasons of pain and heartbreak. What caught me off guard was the sorrow of not recognizing myself—my mannerisms, preferences, or personality traits—in my adopted sons. Kids, even biological ones, don’t come with user manuals, but my boys were an absolute mystery to me.

They love mud, snakes, and danger; I want things neat and tidy, nonreptilian, and safe. But it wasn’t mainly our differences that distressed me. It was the fact that, like many kids from homes without safe and trustworthy parental figures, these boys found it normal to openly challenge authority, treat each other without respect, and damage property like it was their job. My response was to blow up and scream, “You just don’t do this!” What I was really screaming was “You aren’t behaving like I would!”

I was at a loss. How much patience and self-control was it going to take to be a dad? Apparently, a lot.

A Father’s Day Gift. One Father’s Day morning a few years ago, when my boys were between five and ten years old, I reached the limits of my endurance. Even before we were able to start breakfast, a disagreement broke out. It might have been about who would lead the prayer, where someone might sit, or what was for breakfast. Chaos again—and on Father’s Day no less! It was better to walk away than blow up.

I lumbered into my bedroom and wept. Loudly. I knew everyone could hear me, but I didn’t care. Years of heartbreak over “how things are supposed to be” came gushing out. “Why did you do this to me?” I asked God. “I wish I had never said yes.” There it was: my first admission of something akin to regret.

And then, from within, I heard a still, small voice. It whispered, “Gift.” Immediately I thought, “Yes, God, you are right. Jill and I are a gift to these boys. Where would they be without us?” Again came that inner voice. “Not only are you a gift to them, but they are my gift to you.” Life-altering words spoken into a heart hanging on for dear life.

The Gift of Chaos. With those little whispers, I realized that the very chaos of our situation is also God’s gift to me. He is transforming a judgmental, demanding dad-heart into something more patient and understanding, amid the uncertainty that is our family life.

How else was I going to be released from the hold that selfishness, a thirst for praise, and a desire for control had on me? God knew that it would take a calling much bigger than myself and my own resources. Now I can better imagine how Paul might have felt when he begged God to remove the “thorn” from his flesh and was told, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:7, 9).

Since that moment of surrender, my parenting style has changed. Instead of reflexively yelling and doling out punishments, I now value remaining calm and responding in a way that fits my sons’ actual needs and temperaments. Harsh punishments aren’t motivating for them; love, patience, and understanding from Mom and Dad are.

And here’s another change. Now, the joy of being right where God wants me outweighs my old dreams of a “perfect” family.

There’s the joy of watching my eleven-year-old serve at Mass, as he does his best impression of a Little League right fielder: winding his altar server ropes instead of holding the prayer book for the priest.

The joy of lying in bed with my nine-year-old, helping him get to sleep by talking about what heaven might be like—even though the football game on TV awaits.

The joy of repeatedly reminding my ten-year-old to twirl his spaghetti with his fork and not his fingers—and remembering that it’s an honor to be his dad, no matter what he does with his food.

I’ve come to grips with the truth that God never promised me a perfect life, only a perfect Savior. And that Jesus has been—and always will be—for me.

Question: Let's keep the discussion going in the comments below. How has 'chaos' been a blessing in your life? What would be different for you if problems became opportunities for growth, not simply nuisances to be avoided? 

Note: This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of The Word Among Us. (www.wau.org) 

Ever tried to paint a wall with a hammer or pound a nail with a paintbrush? Having the right tool makes the impossible possible.  When I first got a ratchet set I marveled at my newfound ability to tighten and loosen all the bolts. It felt like cheating. There was no longer any bolt that could get the best of me and my superior toolset. 

Keystone habits, as Charles Duhigg defines in his book "The Power of Habit", are tools like this - but for your life.  

He noted that there are certain habits that have a cascading effect. They make it easier and more likely that other good habits would follow in their wake. Just as regular excercise reduces my dependence on caffeine and spurs me on to healthier eating, some choices we make, make other great choices easier, not harder.  

But what if we could apply this principle to the one habit every disciple of Jesus (at least all the ones I know) wants more of in their life? 

Daily. Prayer. 

Yes, please. I will have more of that. 

And so would you. 

Yet, if you are anything like me you've decided (many times over) that you want to pray everyday, but unlike showering and brushing los dientes, the habit hasn't quite stuck. Sure, you win at prayer during Lent, but then again, who doesn't? I've been doing better spiritually in Lent, except for that one year, since Marky Mark was a part of the Funky Bunch. 

In January of 2011 something happened though that made it more likely that I would sit down to pray and that I would actually pray while I was praying.  

I bought a journal. And started writing in it during my personal prayer times. 

More than any other 'tool' that journal, which is almost completely full now five years later, has helped me pray better and more often. 

A spiritual journal has become a keystone habit for me and my prayer life.  

Here are four reasons why: 

1) A journal makes prayer more real.

Prayer is conversation with God, but I still can't actually hear or see who I am talking to. Can you? A journal makes the experience of praying more tangible.  I can write things down that I would say to God and then compose ways in which I imagine God might respond. A real live conversation unfolds right in front of me. 

2) A journal keeps me focused, engaged, and less distracted

Ever been distracted during prayer? No? That must only be a me problem. The act of putting pen to paper keeps me focused and engaged on the task at hand: talking and listening to God. 

3) A journal brings to light new insights about God, myself, and His word

Here's how it goes down for me.

First, I slowly read a verse from the Bible, two or three times (either from the daily mass readings - See Fig 1 - or one of the psalms from the Liturgy of the Hours). Slow works best, because when I'm praying I'm not trying to set any records. A measured pace ensures that I don't miss the treasure God so desperately wants to give to me. 

Second, I write out, word for word, the verse(s) or phrase(s) that jumps out at me. The first time through is simply to understand what I am reading, the second or third time through is to be attentive to the particular words or phrases that might jump off the page. When I get a verse that says "PICK ME", I write it down, double-spaced, in my journal.  (See Fig. 2)

Third, I try to draw connections between God's word and my life. The space between the lines of scripture allows for the conversation to more easily go back and forth.  The scripture is God's part of the conversation, what I fill in between the lines is mine. I circle words. I underline phrases. I write out synonyms above and below words to get the fullest picture possible of what God might be saying to me. At this point I pause to reflect and ask "where does this verse/idea/truth need to match up with my life?"  

Fourth,  I land on the main idea for the day and write out some sort of prayer or statement of faith that expresses what God and I have just discussed.  (See Fig 2.1  God, as portion, is 'all I need.' God, as cup, is a container big enough to 'handle' all that I need. This was a powerful truth for me that morning.)

Lastly, it's worth noting that this process isn't something I just made up, but corresponds with the ancient prayer practice of lectio divina (divine reading).  I start with lectio (read), move to meditatio (meditate), and finish with oratio (pray). And I aim, even if for just a few moments, before I get up from my chair, to simply rest in the truth given to me that day (contemplatio, or contemplation). 

4) A journal gets me going when I don't feel like praying.

My routine for each new journal entry is first writing down the date and location of my prayer time.  And once I've done I don't want to leave that entry blank, so something has to give.  When I don't know what else to say or do I might write down something as simple (and yet, profound) as "Come, Holy Spirit", or "Jesus, I trust in you."  That's usually enough to get the train going and before long, the conversation is underway.  

Yes, a spiritual journal is a keystone habit for me and my prayer life.  Maybe it would be for you too?  It's certainly not magic and everyone will have a different experience, but I would encourage you, especially if you are at a dry time in your prayer life to give it a shot.  

In fact, why not try it on for the next seven days and see what happens.  The worst that could happen is that you are out $9 and you put in writing seven different bible verses. The best that could happen is that it helps you pray better and more often.  

I think it's worth the risk. 

Question: Do you use a journal in your prayer time?  What impact has it had on your prayer life?  What specific part of using a journal in your prayer time has benefited you the most? Let's keep the conversation going in the comments below or on your favorite social network. 

I have four sons.

If you've met them you know there isn't a non-boy bone in any of their squiggly little bodies. So when you are driving in a car with three of them (ages 5, 6, and 7) and you see the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile parked in front of the grocery store you hit the brakes. Hard.

Like a gift from above came two golden opportunities:

1. Get three boys out of the steel cage that is my compact car
2. Get three boys into a giant hot dog bus

There was literally no good reason to not do either of those things.

After a few minutes of oohs and aahs at the reality that they were hanging out inside a giant piece of pork, like Jonah in a pig-whale, the boys were asked: "Do you guys like hot dogs?" They responded like the males they are "Yeah, we do." Then one of the Wienermobile drivers asked: "Do you think you could eat a hot dog the size of the one on top of this vehicle?"

Thankfully, they said "no." Then one of the boys quickly chimed in: "We do know somebody who could." The driver responded with a grin: "You do? Who?"

"Jesus", responded my favorite son.

And just like that I knew something was working right in my house. Our domestic Church rocks!

Jill and I have always drilled into our son's heads (and hopefully their hearts too) that Jesus is a super big deal (obviously with an emphasis on "super big"). But Jesus isn't a super-hero. He is a savior. And while we've repeated over and over His greatness, what about his goodness?

My experience has been that it's talent that wows us, but character that wins us. Talent gets our attention, while character keeps it. The same is true of Jesus.

I'm afraid that if I don't course-correct soon Jesus will become, to my sons, just a giant hot dog eater and an irrelevant one at that. Stories of Jesus' greatness may have gotten their attention when they were young, but I'm guessing it's testimonies, that Jill and I share of His goodness that will keep them around long after the "Jesus is a super-hero" phase wears off.

In other words, speaking of his goodness, over and over.

Remember it's his impeccable character that puts us in position to be saved in the first place. St Paul speaks of Jesus this way:

And then because of who he was and the perfect life he offered for us, he was raised from the dead, thus ensuring the same opportunity for you and for me. Paul continues:

Great and good.

So during this Advent season I resolve to speak often to my sons, not just of what Jesus is capable of, but of his unrivaled character.

Here are three places a Catholic can go to learn more about the character of Jesus:

1) The Bible: As the Gospels recount the life Jesus, we find hundreds of stories of his faithfulness, mercy, and patience.

2) The lives of the saints: As the saints imitated Jesus, we discover true tales of his generosity, humility, and selflessness expressed through ordinary (made extraordinary by grace) men and women.

3) Our own lives: As you and I have experienced Jesus, testimonies of his compassion, kindness, and forgiveness abound in a life lived as his follower and friend.

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Question: Have you experienced personally the 'goodness' of Jesus, his faithfulness, mercy, patience, etc..? If so, how could you share that experience with others in your life?  Share about it in the comments below or on your favorite social network. 

Catholic author and speaker, Matthew Kelly once said: "Our lives will change when our habits change." I couldn't agree more.  

Our habits, though, don't come out of thin air.  They are born in our brains. Our actions stem from our thoughts.  How we actually think about something determines what we actually end up doing. It's why St. Paul tells the Romans that they will "be transformed by the renewing of their minds." (Romans 12:2)

So, before we can get into the habit of sharing our faith, we need to acknowledge what comes to mind when we think about discussing our faith with someone else. 

And if you are anything like me you've given into a particular way of thinking that might prevent you from sharing the love of God with others before you even get started.

Here's the kicker.

When we hear someone say that we should “share our faith with others”, what I think we often hear is that we are supposed to “increase the faith of others.”  

Well, those are two very different things. 

One is under our control the other one isn’t.  Can you guess which is which?

Yet, it's no wonder we stop dead in our tracks.  We are so hungry for results, we forget, in this situation that's not our job. 

Repeat after me:

"I can't be expected to increase somebody else's faith (that's a job for grace and the Holy Spirit), but simply to share my own."

Still you cry, "BOOO!!" because you want to see the fruit of your labors, return on your investments, and results for your hard work.  I'm with you.  I do too.  But that's not how the spiritual life works, and the sooner we get our thinking right about what's our responsibility and what isn't, the sooner someone's life might change because they've heard the good news. 

Jesus says it best: “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how." (Mark 4:27)  

• It's my job to pray, it's God's job to set people free.

• It's my job to trust, it's God's job to transform.

• It's my job to to speak, it's God's job to convict.

• It's my job to scatter seed, it's God's job to provide the growth.

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Question: Is sharing your faith with others something you aspire to? What thoughts spring to mind at the prospect of talking with others about God? Are they positive, negative, or just plain overwhelming?

Recently I asked my elementary school aged sons if their friends like to play video games and they all said “yes!” Then I asked, “how do you know?” They each responded “because they talk about it all the time.”   

When something adds value to our lives we make it known.  Whether it’s a new diet, latest task management app or a great television show, if it’s working for us, we bring it up in conversation with people we think might want to hear about it. 

But why does this principle seem to disappear for many of us Catholics when it comes to talking about our faith?  Jesus and the Church have deeply impacted our lives, changed them even, but when it comes time to sharing personally about it, many of us still clam up.  I think there are four reasons that this happens to you and to me.

+ We are afraid - I am very uncomfortable with the unknown. How about you? There is absolutely no telling how someone will respond if I openly share about my relationship with Jesus and my love for the Catholic Church. Will they agree with my response, tear it to pieces, or just shrug it off?  As a people pleaser, there are very few things that scare me more than the awkwardness of being on the opposite sides of a religious conversation with someone else (especially with someone close to me). This fear then often prevents me from being completely authentic with others (friends, family members, and strangers alike). 

+ We are ashamed - I suppose there are two ways to prevent a message from getting out - you can either attack the message or the messenger. Fear is about the content of the message.  Shame is about the character of the messenger.   Fear persuades us from without, but shame condemns us from within.  Shame prevents me from sharing, not because of a lack of confidence in the message, but because I am not confident in me, the messenger. Questions like, “I’m pretty screwed up, who is going to listen to me?” stop us from talking openly about our faith. 

Shame and fear often work hand in hand.  Which of the two are you more likely to listen to?

+ We don’t really believe it’s that important - You want to know what you really believe?  Look at what you really do.  You make time for whatever you believe is important.  Your actions and your *actual* beliefs are aligned.  Our actions, more than our intentions, reveal what we truly value. If sharing with someone about your relationship with Jesus rarely happens then there is a good chance that one of two things is true about you.

- Jesus hasn’t risen high enough up the importance ladder in your life.

AND/OR

- Sharing about him isn’t something that you really think is that important.  

+ We are too dang busy - Most of us live at the corner of last-minute and throw-me-a rope-I’m-drowning.  So, based on the pace most of us live (on top of the first three reasons) it shouldn’t surprise anyone that sharing our faith doesn’t often make the cut.  In most of our minds, it’s important, but not urgent.  We say, “I’ll get to that later”, “maybe next time I’ll bring it up” or “I need to pray about that some more.”  We aren’t too bothered to mention to the Great Clips lady where we go church, but to invest many hours into the long journey, emotionally, and relationally with someone outside of our typical circle of friends is often another question.  It might be the very thing we are supposed to do, but we are often too dang busy for that. 

But don’t take it from me, take it from Giovanni Battista Enrico Antonio Maria Montini (Pope Paul VI).  In one of the most searing passages from the game changer he wrote on evangelization (long before it was cool to talk about these things) he says: 

“It would be useful if every Christian and every evangelizer were to pray about the following thought: men can gain salvation also in other ways, by God’s mercy, even though we do not preach the Gospel to them; but as for us, can we gain salvation if through negligence or fear or shame—what St. Paul called “blushing for the Gospel” - or as a result of false ideas we fail to preach it? For that would be to betray the call of God, who wishes the seed to bear fruit through the voice of the ministers of the Gospel; and it will depend on us whether this grows into trees and produces its full fruit.”
 
Pope Paul IV, On Evangelization in the Modern World, 1976

Our Church leaders are wise and often understand the realities of what us Catholics are going through much more than we might think.  Fear, shame, false ideas, and negligence have been roadblocks for me in sharing my faith, roadblocks that need to be carefully dismantled (crushed) one at a time.

Lastly, when re-reading Paul VI’s quote above, don’t miss it the bomb he is dropping. He is asking if Christians will be saved if they aren’t preaching the Gospel. That’s a serious proposition.  A question, when recalled, that stops me in my tracks and returns me to the truths that:

a) Faith wasn’t given to me to be hoarded, but to be generously shared

b) Only when I become a good news share-er, not just a good news bearer, has the good news taken full root in my life.

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Questions: Which of these four obstacles get in the way of you sharing your faith with others? What has worked in your life to overcome these obstacles?  Share your answers in the comments below or on your favorite social media network.

Growing up I was always the kid who was sick on Christmas.  Our family photo album is full of pictures of me, surrounded by wrapping paper and new socks, sick as a dog on the couch.  This pattern persisted into college and even into my young adult years. Was I allergic to mistletoe and midnight mass?

Nope. 

I was allergic to slowing down.

Whether it was the emotional energy I expended anticipating Super Mario Bros under the Christmas tree or the frenetic, non-stop, get-no-sleep approach to college I took each semester, once I had to slow down (Christmas Eve and Christmas day) I crashed. My body shut down the first chance I gave it.

This pattern has played itself out in ministry too. I love to work, probably too much. So when I cut back to part-time to better serve my family, in the spring of 2014, I crashed hard that summer.  I was overweight, out-of-shape, and emotionally and spiritually empty.  It was the first time in seventeen years that I allowed myself to actually slow down.  It was as though I had just barely beaten the avalanche of burnout to the bottom of the hill. It made sense then that just a few months later the weight of years of relating poorly to my work would bury me. 

I didn’t realize what I was doing to myself. 

In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis describes it this way. 

Guilty as charged.

The 'problem' that he is referring to is pastoral acedia, or in his words, "a tense, burdensome...and unbearable fatigue." This sort of burnout comes not just from working too much but from thinking about and approaching ministry in the wrong way.

If I'm honest, at one time or another, I have adopted each of the five attitudes Pope Francis describes below, and until now I hadn't realized the way this contributed to my ministry candle being burnt at both ends. 

1) "Some fall into it because they throw themselves into unrealistic projects and are not satisfied simply to do what they reasonably can."  

This is the temptation to over promise and under deliver; to have unrealistic expectations (of yourself and others) for what is possible, even with God on your side.  Bigger doesn't equal better and aiming at louder, faster, cooler often sets us up for disappointment. 

2) "Others, because they lack the patience to allow processes to mature; they want everything to fall from heaven."

This is when you expect to see fruit tomorrow from the apple tree you planted today. It's just not going to happen.  As in agriculture, spiritual growth, is slow, steady, unpredictable, and ultimately out of our hands. 

3) "Others, because they are attached to a few projects or vain dreams of success."

Have you ever referred to a ministry project you are working on as 'my baby'.  If so, Pope Francis would say you are a candidate for burnout. The work was never meant to be about you (or anyone that you happened to give birth to.) It's like doing heavy lifting with your back (your strength) and not your legs (the strength that God provides). 

4) "Others, because they have lost real contact with people and so depersonalize their work that they are more concerned with the road map than with the journey itself."

This is the temptation to put people on the back burner and only pay attention to processes, systems and planning.  You remove mission from your mindset and exchange it for maintenance. How many instances, just off the top of your head, can you recall of Jesus and 'insert someone Jesus personally connected with'.  From Nicodemus to the rich young man to the woman at the well to Mary Magdalene to oodles more, Jesus touched individual person after individual person.  Our mindset in ministry should imitate this ideal - people before programs.  

5) "Others fall into acedia because they are unable to wait; they want to dominate the rhythm of life."

Sometimes we just want to be in control. Our way or the highway. We fail to collaborate or invite others to contribute. We quickly forget that we're not the smartest most-gifted person in the room, just the leader.    

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Question: Which of these five attitudes about ministry have you fallen into? What have you done to prevent yourself from being tripped up by one (or more) of these traps? Share in the comments below or on your favorite social network.

If I asked, do you want to -  

1. Get more of the right things done each day?

2. Connect better with the people closest to you?

3. Sleep better at night and start your day off right?

- I’m guessing you would say “yes."  I would too. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t (except maybe an eighteen-month old little boy who just wants to lick toys and eat Cheerios). 

Well, over the last seven days a little bit more of each of these things have happened in my life, (thank you Jesus) by making one small but important decision with my iPhone. 

At the end of our lives we will not wish that we had looked at the Internet more or wished that we had spent more time with our phones. And no one is encouraging us to. Yet, we do.  With each passing week, month and year (and I’m going on Year 8 with an iPhone), we spend more and more time tapping and poking around on that little handheld computer that is more ‘my precious’ than just ‘my phone.’

A few weeks back my youngest son crawled into bed with me at about 6:30am.  I laid there phone in hand, looking at who knows what on Twitter or email and he said: “you look at your phone too much.”   I couldn’t disagree. 

I thought, “well at least I don’t sleep with the phone on my pillow like they talk about some people doing.”  But then I thought “what is looking at your phone last thing of the day and first thing in the morning (before you even get out of bed), if not ‘sleeping w your phone'?”  Okay. I’d morphed into one of *those* people. I didn’t choose it. But I did.  

A few days later as this pillow talk with my youngest son sank in I decided something needed to change.  A seven-day experiment. 

For the next seven nights I would turn my phone off at 8pm and not turn it back on until 8am the next morning or after my prayer time, whichever came later. 

After a week of this I noticed two feelings and learned two lessons. 

First, the two feels: 

1. I felt relief. It was as though I put down something heavy that I had been carrying for a really long time. In fact, I even started ‘looking’ forward to the break. This part of the experience really surprised me. I wasn't expecting to feel this way.
   

2. I felt present. Immediately I felt more present to myself, to my family, to my house, to whatever was in front of me, because there was no where else to be. Our smart screen is a portal to other places - other people, other stories, other places. If the portal is closed, there’s nowhere to be but where you are. What a great feeling.

Next, the two lessons:

1. Things can wait What I’ve learned is that things take as long as the time allotted for them, so after a few days, it's felt more normal *not* to have the phone around at night and in the morning. Checking email can wait (and probably should). Getting or sending one more text message can wait. Facebook needs less time and not more time, so it can wait too. Even more I’ve seen that these things just aren't that crucial anyway. So, I’m not pushing them off to other times of the day, I’m just doing much less of them. Win. Win.
   

2. Keeps me on track in the morning Every day I want to make room, before 9am, to exercise, pray and prep for the day. Looking at all of the internet at 6:30am never once helped me do the things I really wanted to do before I shove off for work. It’s hard enough as it is to pray every day and exercise regularly without eating everything your smartphone is dishing up. I’ve had a great week with both (prayer and exercise) and I believe there is a close connection. Also, as I pray, my mind isn’t full of internet junk, so it’s much easier to focus on God, the scriptures, spiritual reading, and prayer intentions.

So, given what I've gained from what I've given up, I'm gonna stick with his plan for now. I'm sure that seven days hasn't presented all possible test cases and I'll likely adjust as things come up. For example, if my wife and kids aren't home the phone stays on or if my parents need to get ahold of me after 8pm I've asked them to give my wife a ring-a-diing.

Her phone can stay on.  It doesn't need to be put in time-out like mine. 

At least one of us has our priorities straight.

Question: What about you?  Do you turn your phone off for intentional purposes?  How has that choice moved things forward in your life?  

Growing up I never thought of myself as a control-freak or knew very well it's emotional bedfellow, anger.  Sure, as a 10 year old I might've gone berserk on my neighborhood friends about the rules of Ghosts in the Graveyard or publicly berated my high school buddies at Burger King over the merits of Notre Dame football (and the demerits of Nebraska football, go Irish!).  But really, no one who knew me well would've described me as a kid with anger issues.  

Years passed, college came and went, and these occasional flareups of anger and control faded into the background (like the parachute pants I wore in the 80's), presumably never to be heard from again. 

Until I became a dad. 

Fatherhood has brought out the best in me, but also the worst.  How about you?

Think back to day one. The baby comes home and you can control virtually every aspect of their life (what they eat, what they wear, and where they lie down), except for one very important thing: when they sleep. 

So it begins. We as parents are confronted, immediately, by the fact that what our children choose to do is ultimately out of our control.  

As they get a little older and learn to walk and then to run, the stakes get a little higher. And as they get a little older and learn to say 'no', the stakes get even higher. 

At times, as a Dad, it feels like very little, if anything, is under my control. A house full of boys has a way of making this even more real. The holes in the walls (many), the broken windows (multiple), and the autographs in pen on the backseat of the van (Malachi) are all testimonies to the fact that I am not the only one with access to the nuclear launch codes.  Stuff happens in my house whether I authorize it or not. 

After watching my blood pressure skyrocket, vocal chords weaken, and the relationships with my sons suffer, I cried 'uncle'.  Something needed to change.  For many years I thought it was the boys that needed to shape up. After a lot of reading, prayer, soul searching, and a particularly powerful trip to confession I discovered it was actually someone else that needed the work: Me. 

Here's he truth that was staring me in the face all along: I can't control what my kids think, say or do, only how I respond to what they think, say, and do. I can't control them, I can only control me.  

Holy emotional bombshell, Batman.

When this realization sank in I experienced a deeper level of peace and freedom than ever before.

• Freedom from the emotional tether that chained my highs and lows to my son's good and bad behavior.  
• Peace from knowing that a storm of craziness could unfold around me, but I didn't have to respond in kind.  

So, as I learned to push the pause button between what my kids do and how I respond, I've noticed three amazing outcomes when I focus on self control (rather than the unattainable kid control): 

1. Better consequences Have you ever been rash in doling out punishments for your kids, like canceling Christmas? That's how crazy it got one year, because my overreactions were having overreactions. A calm demeanor means I can stop and think and talk things over with my wife before a reasonable sentence is handed down.  
2. Setting a more worthy example There is a far cry from being confident of the example you are setting in the face of adversity and the ongoing sadness and guilt of being an 'angry dad.'  Choosing my response rather than simply 'reacting' has afforded me this joy.
3. Stronger father/son relationships Rather than immediately seeing my disgust and disappointment my sons are more likely to experience a dad that loves them no matter what sort of mess they've gotten themselves into. My hope is that they experience the difference between my disappointment with their choices and not my disappointment with them as human beings. 

If meekness can be defined as strength under control, I now see why this term described Jesus so well. He had all the power and strength a person could have, but channeled it to respond in the right way under the most extreme circumstances.  

• Asking the Father to forgive his executioners.  
• Confronting, in love, the men who accused the woman caught in adultery. 
• Turning over tables when his Father's house was turned into a den of thieves.

This sounds a lot like what big strong dads are supposed to do. See the big picture, demonstrate patience, compassion, and mercy for the last and least, and only flex their muscles in the gravest of situations.  I'm not yet like Jesus, but I sure want to be. And the sooner I start acting like him, the sooner my boys might too. 

Question: What about you? What other benefits can you see for parents in putting a priority on self-control?

Just recently my parents moved to the Twin Cities.  This marks the first time in 20 years that we’ve lived in the same city.  Now that we see each other multiple times each week, rather than just a couple of times a year, I've noticed that I’m a lot more like my mom than I ever knew. For example, it turns out we both really like things neat and tidy and we really really really don’t like conflict or going to the dentist.  

And now, looking back at my childhood I can see that I picked up these (ahem) preferences by just observing my mom, day after day, year after year.

It's true, apples don't fall far from trees.  It's also true that if your apples are adopted they don't fall very far either. 

Even though my sons (all of which are adopted) won't have the incredible blessing of my fair skin, thinning hair, and small hands, they will have something else I'm not always certain I want to pass along either - my example. As that uncomfortable truth sinks in, an equally menacing question pops into my head.

If my kids turn out just like me (which there’s a good chance they will), will I have done my job as a Dad?

Basically, I am asking: "Am I living a life worth imitating?"  It's an ass-kicker of a question for anyone, but none more so than for parents.  It can hardly be disputed that there will be no more formative influence on kids than mama and papa bear. 

Wait a minute, Catholic Ryan. What about Jesus? Shouldn't your kids imitate Jesus and not you? Yes, they should, but they will learn what a life lived in imitation of Jesus actually looks like from me.  Like Paul, I'm saying to my sons (until they can stand up on their own as disciples of Jesus) "follow me, as I follow Christ". I'd love to be able to say, like Jesus did of the Pharisees, that my boys should do as I say, not as I do, but it doesn't work that way in family life. 

So as a result I am smacked in the face with three truths about the importance of a parent’s example in a child’s life; three truths (two of which present daunting challenges and the last an incredible opportunity) that every parent has to wrestle with at one point or another.

1      Our kids are watching

Just last week I got the dreaded “you spend too much time looking at your phone” comment.  For a long time I thought they hadn't noticed how much time I spend looking at my phone.  Nope.  Sherlock One through Sherlock Four don't miss a beat. They are observing my every move trying to make sense of the world through what they see me repeatedly doing. For better or worse, they are picking up whatever I am laying down. 

2      Our kids are absorbing  

Have you ever watched one of your kids scold another one of your kids and think “I hate it when they do that” or “who taught them that?" Then seconds later it hits you, “oh yeah, that must be what I sound like.”  Shoot!  They are not only watching us, they are absorbing us.  I'm not sure what else I expected.  I guess I hoped my kids would be the first on the planet to learn more from words than from actions. 

3      Our kids are growing

Our kids are growing, which is to say they aren’t done yet and there is still time to adjust the mold.  Isn’t that incredible?  The story isn’t finished.  It is still being written for them and for us. Our example can (and must) help guide the way.  While we can’t control the outcomes for our kids, we can significantly influence the inputs they receive from us.

Whether I like it or not my kids are watching. The stakes are getting higher and more so than ever I am aiming to give them an example worth following.  In fact, on not a few occasions recently my behavior has actually changed as I've thought: "would I want my boys, in the same situation, to make the same choice when they are all grown up?"  

So, it's starting to sink in, one privileged dad-moment at a time. 

Question: What about you? How have you seen kids picking up on the example of their parents? Please keep the discussion going in the comments below.

On January 5, 2005, Jill and I got the call: You’ve been chosen to be foster parents for a two month old little boy. Here’s the address. Please swing by to pick him as soon as you are ready.

Life changed forever in that moment. Just like the rainy day it was in Phoenix, AZ, everything felt different.  We were suddenly parents.  Most moms and dads have nine months to prepare, we had nine miles. That was the distance we drove across town to pick the little guy up.  He needed a place to live and we had room at the inn.

Over the next eighteen months twelve more foster kids would come and go through our home. Four of them ended up sticking around for good; for our good and hopefully theirs too.

While it took us a while to figure most everything out, we did get one thing right from the start and it has made all the difference.

Bedtime.  Consistent, early bedtimes.

We have been parents for nearly 4000 days and almost every one of them has ended with our four boys laying down to sleep between 7 and 8 pm.

Really? Yeah, really. And here's why. 

Consistent and early bedtimes for the boys are the best way Jill and I have found to create the margin we need to stay on the same page all the while ensuring that our kids get the sleep their little brains and tired bodies desperately need too.

What's the most important relationship in the family? I'd argue that it's the relationship between mom and dad.  Our love for one another (or lack thereof) has a cascading effect in family life.  It is amazing at how kids pick up on what is really going on.  Whether it's the child who wants to squeeze into the middle of a hug or the other who shouts from the other room "stop fighting" when he senses there may be a little tension.  

So, early and consistent bedtimes for the kids have allowed Jill and I the margin for three things we might not easily make time for otherwise. 

1. Date Nights In. It's fun to go out, but a glass of wine on the front porch can do the trick too.  We call it our 'wine at nine'.  I have come to treasure this nightly tradition where we connect more deeply on "how" we are doing or what we are excited about, or why we are feeling so anxious. 
    
2. Family Admin. There are millions of details to discuss and decisions to consider in family life. As the kids get older and sports, activities and friendships increase, so does the need to connect, every night even, on the details of tomorrow, the weekend, next week, and next month.  
    
3. Resolve Conflict. Jill and I believe strongly that a husband and wife should not let the 'sun set on their anger', and as such, early bedtimes, have allowed for us to hash out serious matters away from the curious ears of our kids. It's in these moments where marriages can rise and fall. And should a conflict come up that needs to be talked over, without pleading kids around or needing to bolt to work, early bedtimes give us the physical, mental, and emotional space for healthy conflict. 

We've made a lot of decisions as parents, but this one practical idea has given us an inordinately good return on our investment. It was a marriage-changing decision and provided precious moments, each day, for Jill and I to get unstuck, to look back, and plan for what's ahead.

Question: What about you? If you have kids, how do you approach the bedtime routine in your family? If you don't have kids, were early bedtimes a big deal in your family growing up?

I could probably give myself a pretty good talkin' to. It would include something about my true identity (son of God), something else about how flimsy 'likes' and 'favorites' are (compared to the sturdiness or face-to-face interaction), etc...

I know the truth. I know that 'likes' and 'favorites' and 'plus ones' are just the fairy dust of the online world. I'm not sure why I have given them so much power or any power for that matter.

I wish it was just as simple as listening to my own advice, but it's not for a couple of reasons.

1. Change in others is easier to imagine than change in myself. The plank in my eye prevents me from seeing things properly. It functions as a lens that makes it easier to see the faults in others than in myself. Thus prescriptions for others comes easy, taking the medicine myself, not so much.

2. Giving advice is cheap, changing habits is expensive. Words are a dime a dozen. Cliches and quips fall out of our mouths with the greatest of ease. I've got more advice for others than I know what to do with. Might need to build me a barn to store it all. The words are the easy part. Changing my own patterns of behavior? That's another story altogether.

3. Knowing what's right and doing it are two different things. There is quite a distance between knowing what's right and doing it. Moral scandals involving Christian leaders serve as Exhibit A. Knowing the truth isn't the problem, applying it in many and varied circumstances is.

If there is anything that I have learned about the connections between beliefs and behaviors it is that we behave how we believe. Thus if we are not behaving in the right way there is still something that needs to developed or debunked in our thinking.

• If it's a half-truth that we are hanging onto, our thinking needs to develop into the whole truth
• If it's a lie we are believing, it needs to be debunked and replaced with new true thinking.

And when it's all said and done there is still one person who needs my sage advice more than anyone else on earth.

Me.

A few weeks ago my wife went cold turkey on Netflix. As she said "enough already" I was caught off guard. I like Netflix and all, but not enough to watch it alone.

Our nightly show had become a reward of sorts after a long day's work and an eagerly anticipated trip into another world far from the day's troubles. I'm guessing if you have kids (or even if you don't or if you are single), you have a similar routine. Most people I know do.

But at what expense? This was the uncomfortable question that prompted Jill to cut the cord.

What intellectual, emotional, and spiritual effect was this nightly habit having? A little bit each day becomes a lot over time. So the better question is - what effect was a lot of Netflix having?

Dang it. Now that's a good question. And while I don't know the full answer, the little distance I have had from this nightly drip of all things Netflix has given me time to reflect on who has the upper hand. Me or the culture?

As you know the culture we live in isn't happy bedfellows with Christianity. It doesn't share the same aspirations for your life as say, Jesus. Like Chuck Norris, it's powerful, swift, and does it's thing without you even noticing. If it was clumsy and uncoordinated we would have it whipped already, but it's not. So we've been tripped up, handcuffed, and tied to the fence post long before we can even say "boo."

Not you? Think you are impervious to the culture's effects?

You (and me) whose mind is marinated in iPhone, sauteed in Internet and shot through with Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.

Think again.

Our minds (and thus the priorities and decisions that follow) are up for grabs and the culture we live in is playing for keeps. As my Dad, a WWII veteran, once remarked - "you either git or git got." This is the uncomfortable reality my wife's decision forced me to face. For too long I rationalized all the nightly shows as the days' just reward; an irreplaceable connection with my lovely wife.

There's a lot more to it, really.

We are at war.

But not in the typical us vs. them sort of way. The enemy isn't out there as much as it in here. Our love of pleasure, our unending desire to be entertained, and our general malaise are as much the concern as what's 'out there.' In fact, what's out there is simply capitalizing on what's in here. Targeted marketing. We're busy buying so they're busy selling. Win win. Except, it's not.

So the best defense, in this case, is a good offense. We must see to the right kind of change in our lives, before we "get got." The culture is happy to sweep you off your feet and take you with it. Very few of us put up much of a fight. So, we must be agents of change or be changed.

Here are three things to do as you begin to consider the impact that the daily TV drip is having on you, but first you must turn off Netflix (or Hulu or Amazon Prime or the old-fashioned TV) for at least one week.

Step 1: Replace it with another non-screen activity you'd like to do more of Exercise, prayer, book reading, journaling, sleep or talking with another person. The list goes on. I just shared the things most people want more of in their life. This is a great way to get started.

Step 2: Take note of your experience I'm guessing you won't know what to do with yourself at first. That's okay. Habits die hard. Take notice of the uncomfortable boredom that greets you. Resist 'just one show.' You can do it. What do you appreciate about these activities over/against television? How has your life been enriched? Write down the answers to these questions and consider their ramifications.

Step 3: Return, but only with intentionality My guess is that if you are like most people you never decided what sort of things you would watch and what sort of things you wouldn't. Not so anymore. You have begun a very healthy process of standing guard over what comes in. A steady diet of creme-filled donuts will have a certain affect on your body, why wouldn't a steady diet of the best Hollywood has to offer have a similar effect on your mind, soul, and spirit. So, if you return, do so with intentionality. Make some decisions about why you are watching and what shows will help you achieve those goals.

I haven't watched my last show on Netflix, but I hope that I won't go back without owning the decision. Not as a default when 9pm rolls around, but rather a choice that fits into the bigger picture of what is best for my mind, soul, and marriage.

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In the comments below: How about you? What guidelines (if any) do you follow to make decsions about the time/space that television occupies in your life?

Photo Credit: dno1967b via Compfightcc

Often I substitute other words in conversation, in place of ‘Jesus’, because I fear what comes with the territory. How about you?

• God, Church, Faith? Easy. Rolls off the tongue. They keep the conversation going.

• Jesus? Hard. Like Flappy Bird hard. When it’s time to fill in the blank with the word “Jesus”, I often take the chicken exit.

Think about it. How many times in the last week did you bring up the name of Jesus in conversation? Probably less than you could have. I certainly missed a chance or two.

In fact I’d suggest the average Catholic would rather drop an f-bomb than bring up the name of Jesus. Why is this? I’ll throw out four reasons. 

It’s not socially acceptable. In some situations an f-bomb (or a curse word in general) actually helps. A well placed swear word can take you from being super-dork to being one of the guys, just like that. If it worked for me as a 10 year old on the playground, it can work for you. The name of Jesus, on the other hand, often has the opposite effect. Who can stand the funny looks, the fidgeting, the labels, or even the rejection? I rarely can (but I need to, more).

Nobody else is doing it. Why stick out when you can fit in? Very few Catholics at your parish are talking that way, why should you? It’s just not a part of our everyday vocabulary. For better or worse, we absorb our surroundings. Like when you move to Minnesota and you start talking like Marge Gunderson. It just happens. If other Catholics you know are brave enough to talk about their ‘faith’ it’s often still in more generic than specific terms. Baby steps are good, but the world isn’t gonna be changed by doing what we’ve always done.

People don’t talk about what they don’t know about. When the conversation turns to managing a corrugated box factory I stop contributing. I know nothing about factories and even less about corrugated boxes. As soon as I open my mouth about nuances of such a product you’ll immediately see I’m in over my head. The same thing is true with the name of Jesus. You can be a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic and still know nothing about Jesus. Heck, even if you know a lot of facts about him, you may not say that you actually ‘know’ him. Like me and Peyton Manning. I know a lot about him, but don’t know him personally. 

The devil don’t like it. There is more power in the pinky finger of the name of Jesus than all the words in the English language combined, and the evil one knows it. Probably far better than I do. So he gets us talking about really really good things (God, faith, Church) so long as we don’t mention the absolute best thing there is (Jesus). I’m convinced he’d rather have us talk about faith generically than Jesus specifically. Why, you ask? Because Jesus is “the name above every other name” (Phil 2:9), the ”name by which we are saved“ (Acts 4:12), and ”the way, the truth, and the life.”(John 14:6) If your whole goal was to prevent people from connecting with God (as I’m sure is somewhere on Satan’s to-do list), keeping Jesus off the minds and lips of Catholics wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

So, here’s a thought.

For the next week take a leap and substitute ‘Jesus’ where you might otherwise default to a word like God, Faith, Church, etc.

For instance, when you might say to a friend: “My Catholic faith is important to me”, say “Jesus is important to me.”

or to your kids when you might say “let’s pray about it” say “let’s talk to Jesus about it.”

It’s one part new habit, another part courage, where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. You aren’t just substituting one word with equal value for another.  You are setting the stage for the person you are talking to to consider another person more important than you - a person who loves them and wants to lead them through life.

Don’t get me wrong. It doesn’t work like like Find & Replace in Microsoft Word.

As such, don’t substitute it if it’s not true. The first step for you, rather than bringing up a stranger’s name in conversation, might be in discovering better who Jesus is and how you can have a relationship with him.  Also, some instances do call for more generic terms. We can’t get away from the imperative to meet people where they are at (so long as we don’t forfeit our position along the way).

Most of the time we over think it, are scared, or are simply unaware of our speaking patterns. It’s time for a change.

So, be discerning and wise, but also bold and brave. 

Who’s with me?

Photo Credit: Giampaolo Macorig via Compfightcc

When I went to college I didn’t know my faith very well.

I knew there were differences between Catholics and Protestants, but I was unaware that the distinctions were big enough to cause any real problems.

Pretty naive, I guess.

This all came into graphic relief during my last year at William Jewell College (a historically Baptist college). A communications major (a Catholic) was giving her senior presentation about Christian unity at Jewell. One negative example she gave was of overhearing a conversation where the Student Senate president, who was Catholic, was referred to as “Satan.” 

I was stunned.

That Catholic Student Senate president was me.

I was given this nasty moniker not because of the kind of person I was, but simply because I was Catholic.

In that moment I realized the Catholic-Protestant divide was no joke and there were a lot of people out there who had really big feelings about it all. Rather than being appalled, I wanted to jump in. While I didn’t understand exactly what all the fuss was about, I was put on notice.

Not to further divide, but unite.

A hope for healing, unity, and understanding between all Christians came alive in me.

Most all of my interactions with Protestants at William Jewell College were really strong. I never experienced personally the anti-Catholic bias that was referenced in this speech. Whether it was in small group settings or on retreats or serving at soup kitchens I only knew Christian unity, nothing else. Which is why it surprised me so much to hear Christian disunity expressed so blatantly.

In fact throughout my conversion experience in college I encountered three things from Protestant Christians at William Jewell that ultimately ensured I never left the Catholic Church, and as such, have become something of a template (of course alongside this, this, and most recently this) for an approach to Christian unity these many years later.

No one spoke ill of the Catholic Church to me. It didn’t take me very long, while I was on campus, to realize that non-Catholic Christians had real questions about what Catholics believe, but I never encountered anyone going on the offensive. Sure, things came up regarding our beliefs about things like praying to saints or the authority of the Pope, but never was I made to feel ashamed of who I was as a Catholic.

No one encouraged me to leave the Catholic Church. This never came up. This hasn’t been every Catholic’s experience, but it was mine. I was in a number of strong men’s groups towards the end of college, regularly engaging other non-Catholic Christians in faith related discussions. Never once was I encouraged to “check out their Church” or reconsider mine. I’m really grateful for this because my experience as a Catholic who had awakened to Jesus, become his disciple, and desired to lead others to him would be a mission fulfilled within, rather than outside of, the Catholic Church.

The focus was on Jesus. More than anything I walked away from my relationships with other Christians at William Jewell with a greater love for Jesus. Jesus was the focus, the center, and the end-goal. This shaped the sort of Catholicism I would embrace beyond my time at William Jewell. Come to find out it was also the Christocentric Catholicism of John Paul II, Benedict XVI and our current Pope Francis.

This focus on Jesus prepared me to re-receive the gift of Jesus in the sacramental life of the Church.

• Receiving Jesus in the Eucharist became meaningful and eagerly desired, rather than rote and impersonal.

• Going to confession and knowing that my sins have been forgiven was no semi-annual afterthought, it was healing, sanity, and mercy.

This all kept me Catholic. 

People who loved Jesus were willing to share his love with me - no matter the crazy scary nicknames uttered about me behind my back. 

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Since we met in 1997 no one on earth has had a bigger impact on me than Jill Erin O’Hara. 

Seventeen short months later we were married. Life hasn’t been the same since that wonderful day, November 28, 1998. 

We’ve served together across the country and around the globe, lived in household with over 70 young adults, been blessed to be foster parents to 13 little ones, and honored to call 4 of them sons as adoptive parents. 

Jill is an unwieldy mash-up of wisdom, grit, beauty, holiness, athleticism, and awkward. I love her to pieces. 

She is my best friend and the greatest wife-mom-magician I’ll ever know. And in honor of Mother’s Day (and our fifteen years of marriage) I wanted to share the 15 most important lessons that I have learned from her, so far. 

1. Love acts. I can hear her thinking “Ryan, your words are nice, but actions speak much much louder. Do something already!”

2. Saving is sexy. She is one frugal son-of-a-gun. And I’m so grateful. 

3. Giving is sexier. She has taught me the joy and freedom of giving generously.

4. A hug is always better than a handshake. Hug and kiss the ones you love, often. 

5. Dare to do great things for God. From sharing the Gospel door-to-door to lifelong ministry to Christian community to foster care and adoption, Jill has challenged me out of my comfort zone. 

6. Ask God for small things too. God is aware of every last need - no matter how insignificant.

7. Fear is for fools. She is absolutely fearless and calls me on in this area big time.

8. Love unreciprocated is just that. She has taught me to love others (especially our sons) regardless of their response. 

9. Don’t over-relate to your emotions. She has taught me that emotions are unreliable indicators of most everything (except what you happen to be feeling at the moment).

10. What someone else thinks of you is their problem. She has taught me that people pleasing is for suckers.  Still working on this one. 

11. Worrying is a big waste of time.  Her question: “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” always changes my perspective.

12. If you really want to do something, have the courage to be honest and talk about it. She has taught me not to be a passive aggressive punk. 

13. If you are in charge, be courageous enough to lead (or get out of the driver’s seat).  She has encouraged me to lead with confidence and trust the authority that’s been given to me

14. It’s better to go deep with a few friends than shallow with many. She is a friend’s friend.  She’ll give an arm and a leg to those she is closest too (me especially). 

15. People before screens. Our devices are a means to an end, not an end unto themselves. 

Which of these lessons do you need to heed? What lessons has your spouse taught you? Share in the comments section below. 

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Recently my 9 year old son was in a 1 Mile Fun Run sponsored by the YMCA. He placed 3rd out of 100. He ran really hard and did his absolute best. Jill and I were really proud of him.

After run club at the YMCA, a few days later, I asked him if he ran hard during practice. He said “yes.” I replied, “you know I put up a picture of you running that race on Facebook.” He immediately wanted to see it (above).

When I got to the car I fired up the picture on the Facebook app on my phone. He looked at it for a few seconds then said: “I can’t open the likes.”

Pause.

He continued, “I’m done with the comments, I wanna see the likes.” I was tempted to respond, “it’s not about the likes”, but I stopped myself when I thought ‘wait a minute, it is about the likes.’ He’s no different than me (or you too, perhaps).

I know in my head that it isn’t about the likes, but for me, in my heart, it still is.

Bummer.

I was stuck. I knew the right answer, but I hesitated to share it because its truth hadn’t taken root fully in my life.

St John Paul II once said: 

“Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.”

It’s not just right information that is most helpful, but truth melded with real life that communicates so powerfully. I stopped myself before I said “it’s not about the likes”, because had he asked I wouldn’t have had any real example to back it up, no story from my life to bring the ideas from the sky to the ground.

It would’ve been just talk. True talk, but not truth that had found its way into my everyday behavior. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think a father should stray away from telling the truth to their kids, but I was convicted that this was something that was still out of order in me and honestly I didn’t know what I was gonna say next.

Jesus might say to my son Christian “do as your Dad says, not as he does”, but that’s for Jesus to say about me, not for me to say about myself.

I’m still working on my words and actions matching up.  You?

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Photo Credit: pedrosimoes7 via Compfightcc

Recently I was driving my 12 year old son around and he was getting annoyed with my line of questions.

They weren’t rhetorical questions like: When are you going to grow up? or harassing ones like: When are you going to grow up?

Just simple, ‘help me understand what’s going on in your life kind of questions.’ School, friends, preferences, sports and the like.

This has been a recurring challenge, as my almost teenaged son holds many of my inquiries with much more suspicion than he used to.

I let the dust settle.

After a few minutes of quiet I broke the silence with “Do you know why I ask you questions?” He replied back “because you don’t know the answer?” I said, “that’s true, that’s the practical reason, but there’s more to it. I ask you questions because I love you.”

Asking good questions is a great way to demonstrate to anyone that you really care about them.

Have you ever been in a conversation with someone and it’s a one-way street heading right back to them. This can be really frustrating.

When the bible says “love one another” unfortunately it doesn’t then rattle off thousands of real-life examples. Much of the application of this verse is, in each and every moment, putting someone else’s needs before your own. In conversations with someone else, good questions can do just that.

I could be the exception, but I’m really blessed by the effort someone makes to ask a good question about my life. Assuming they want a real response from me, it is a very simple, practical way to be supportive as life bears down. It often helps me to uncover what’s really going on inside.  

Thinking of and asking good questions of people we care about (or even people we don’t too much like) is an exercise in virtue. We become better people when we do it. When I choose to ask and listen first and expect to talk second I grow in humility (putting others first, me second), empathy (imagining life from their perspective) and magnanimity (great hearted, generous, warm and welcoming).

Here’s a good cheat sheet to help you grow in humility, empathy, and magnanimity the next time you find yourself in conversation (like, say, tomorrow):

1. Keep questions open-ended. Ask questions that can’t be answered with a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’  A simple example would be “What do you like about your job?” versus “Do you like your job?” The first question keeps the conversation flowing the second one might not.
2. Ask questions about what you’ve talked about before. The more you practice this the better you will become at remembering important events, milestones, concerns in peoples lives. This might raise the creepout factor for you, but I’ve been known to write things down from conversations I have with people to make sure I don’t forget the details of what they shared with me. I write it down because I care.
3. Ask about what you don’t know, but would like to. What do you want to know about the person? It doesn’t have to go super deep. It can be anything from interests/hobbies/preferences to current trials/challenges all the way to hopes and dreams. Take your pick. Ask something open ended like this and you’ll be surprised at what might be stirred up right then, right there.

Has this been your experience? How has your life been impacted by good questions? What’s another virtue that comes by asking questions in conversation?

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Photo Credit: Nuwandalice via Compfight cc

Ever been tempted to drop your iPhone off the nearest cliff? Smash it with a hammer?

I have.

Not because it wasn’t working, but precisely because it was. It works so well that it never leaves me alone. It’s always right there clamoring for attention.

Beeping, buzzing, chirping, glowing.

Look at me. Touch me. Ignore important stuff (like the road). Hey you, I’m over here!

Sound familiar?

I often think that my subconscious is gonna take over and force me to drop it out the car window or play bouncy ball with it on the cement. 

I’m sick of the darn little thing.

Though I make it sound like all of this is just happening to me, I know that my phone only has as much power as I have given it. So, for the foreseeable future I am going to take some control back and work on five things to put that little dude in its place.

1. Turn off all non-phone related notifications. I go to my phone enough as it is, I don’t also need it getting up off the shelf and walking over to me.  I’m well connected to the internet and social media and I’m not gonna miss things I need to see.
2. Keep it off of my person whenever possible I’ll keep it in a bag, coat pocket or whatever. It’ll be just fine in there.
3. Don’t pick it up first thing in the morning. For a long time I had the bad habit staying in bed soaking my morning brain in all things pointless while ignoring human kids needing my attention in the living room. Not anymore. I purposely moved my bedside table far enough away that I can’t turn off the alarm without getting out of bed. This has really helped.
4. Put it down before I go to bed at night. For a long time I had the bad habit of laying in bed at night soaking my brain… You get the point. 
5. Read something non-electronical in the bathroom. Nuff said.

What about you? Do you hate/love your iPhone? What do you do to put your phone in its place?

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