The Last Chapter, and the Next One

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It’s been two months since my last Sunday at Munger; tomorrow is my first Sunday at Asbury.

It’s been a strange summer, as I’ve not felt I really belonged anywhere, that I was neither fish nor fowl, so to speak.

So, it will feel good to get started tomorrow morning.

But before this next chapter begins, I want to put a pin in my memories of that last Munger Sunday.

 
 

That last Sunday (June 5, 2022) was golden; it was perfect, just perfect. And though there were tears, the entire morning was just filled with gratitude and joy—the Lord has been so good to us.

Right as the first song began, I came under the tent to the front row where my son Jack was sitting and I was shocked to see my son’s great friend Austin standing there. I immediately started crying. Austin lives in another part of Dallas and his family doesn’t go to Munger, but the friendship between Austin and Jack since Kindergarten has been really sweet. And something about seeing Austin’s blond head there as we were all singing felt like a foretaste of glory—surprised by joy.

So, let this post serve as an ebenezer: God is good(er).

 
 

My Last Munger Sermon - “The Last Chapter”

Though it was certainly not my best sermon, I’m proud of my last Munger sermon—I really believe in what I said, and I’ve heard from several folks over the summer how my bottom line has been helpful to them, facing the loss of a loved one or inexplicable difficulty or even life change:

 
“In the End, everything will be okay;
If it’s not okay, then it’s not the End;
And if it’s not the End, the Lord still has work for us to do.”
 

My family joined me on stage and I love how in the video you can see me and my son Jack crying against each other and the staff huddled around as Jake and Rodney pray over us.

 
 
 

That entire last weekend was just so special and I never want to forget it. So, below are some pics and videos from our last Munger weekend, including a bunch that I was able to take from the stage, both during rehearsal and during the service itself.

[Note: If you are reading this in your email inbox, it might be easier to view the videos if you click over and read this post on my blog, as the videos are all embedded there.]

 
 

That Last Week

 
 

Jackie and I getting ready to lead our very last online morning prayer session live from White Rock Lake in East Dallas. I loved those mornings so much—such a sweet gift to be able to have him join me.

 
 
 

Our neighborhood changed a lot over the years in which we lived there—most of the changes were for the good, though of course not all of them.

 
 
 

Empty office.

 
 
 

Empty house.

 
 

Saturday Rehearsal

Some of my favorite Munger memories were our outdoor Easter services, under the big tent in Garrett Park, but we hadn’t held any of those since before the pandemic, and when my colleague Melissa suggested we have one big service for my family’s last Sunday, I was all for it.

One of the things I loved most about Munger was walking around while our band was rehearsing. So I made a point to walk over to Garrett Park on Saturday just to hear and see—so glad I brought my phone with me.

Don’t skip the videos—they are short (all less than a minute) and so so great. So much joy!

[Again, if you are one of my newsletter subscribers, it will be easier to view the videos by reading this post on my blog itself.]

 
 

I took this pic as I walked over to Garrett Park on Saturday for rehearsal. Thank you, Lord, for Munger in my life.

 
 
 

I couldn’t help singing along: “Let your love flow….”

 
 
 

Love hearing the trombone and the guitars working together.

 
 
 

Wait for the song to drop: “Let the light from the lighthouse….”

 
 
 
 

That Last Sunday

I got up early that last Sunday and went for a walk in the dark up Swiss Avenue, as I’d done thousands of times before. I loved that time in the dark, totally alone, walking and thinking over my sermon for the day.

 
 

How many miles have I walked up those beautiful blocks? We were so fortunate to have lived there.

 
 
 

I love this song and whenever I hear it in the future I’ll think of our band warming up that last Munger Sunday.

 
 
 

Oh man. At 10 seconds Kelly Riley drops in with the chorus. He’s the best and this was so fun!

 
 
 

Speaking of fun, this was the last song the band played before the service began: “Oh When the Saints….” Love love love the trombone.

 
 
 

I love the simplicity of this song:

“For God so loved the world that he gave us

His one and only Son to save us….”

 
 
 

Amen. How great to hear the entire congregation gathered singing:

“Oh there’s nothing better than you….”

 
 
 

“Because He Lives” brings back so many memories of our Munger Easter services under the tent over the years. Grateful we got to sing it one last time together.

 
 

Last Munger Sunday - Recap Video

Some Munger folks made this re-cap video for me of that last Sunday. Such a special gift.

 
 
 

Goodbye House, Goodbye Church, Goodbye Neighborhood

We left Texas the afternoon of our last Sunday and made the drive to Tulsa. It just seemed right to finish our final service, say goodbye, and hit the road.

 
 

We loved our old hundred-year-old house so much. Our children never knew anyplace different. It was good to us.

 
 
 

No one could have been kinder to us than our sweet neighbors whom we love so much—they were our grandparents-across-the-street. One last swing on the rope swing in their front yard.

 
 
 

We came over and prayed in the church one last time, all by ourselves. I’ll never stop being grateful for our time at Munger.

 
 
 

No keys on my keyring!

 
 

The Next Chapter Begins

So, after the last chapter, the next one begins: tomorrow is our first Sunday at our new church.

And the folks here cannot have been kinder. Asbury has a billboard contract around the city and, just as they had a campaign to honor the Rev. Tom Harrison, my predecessor who retired after 29 years at Asbury, they started a new one to welcome me! My wife can’t stop making fun of me for it.

 
 

But remember, what goes around comes around. Elaine made fun of me for my billboard, and then this happened:

She and the kids were uniform-shopping for school this week when a photographer came up and took their picture. Guess who was on the front page of the Tulsa World this past Friday morning?!

 

“The Tulsa World.” Friday, August 5, 2022.

 

The poor people of Tulsa can’t get away from us.

 
 

“Live From Tulsa It’s Sunday Morning!”

Tomorrow morning we’re having only one service at Asbury, 10:00 AM CDT. I know there are a bunch of Texans in town to support our family on our first Sunday and it will be so nice to see some familiar faces in the congregation—be sure to get to church early.

I also know there are lots of folks praying for us who won’t be there. Now, some of you know my glib little phrase about online church:

“online church isn’t.”

I say that because I think it’s really important that we gather in person as the people of God. However I also know that lots of folks who wish they could be there live far away. Our parents, e.g., will be tuning into the livestream tomorrow.

So here is the livestream info for Asbury:

There are three different options.

  1. www.asburytulsa.org. Click on “Watch Live” on the main page.

  2. Facebook: the “Asbury Tulsa” page.

  3. YouTube: the “Asbury Tulsa” channel.

The feed will go live a good amount of time before the hour, so tune in early.

 
 

Alright, Fast Eddie

Tomorrow starts a new chapter in my family’s life. A year ago none of this would have seemed remotely likely to me, which leads me to conclude that the Lord has brought us here for a reason.

 

So tomorrow morning, right before I walk into the Asbury Sanctuary for the first time I’m going to look at myself in the mirror and say: Alright Fast Eddie, let’s play some pool.

 
 

"Alright Fast Eddie, Let's Play Some Pool"

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There’s this great scene early in the 1961 movie The Hustler: Fast Eddie (Paul Newman) and Minnesota Fats (Jackie Gleason) have been playing pool for 25 hours straight, and Fast Eddie has been winning—he’s been wiping the floor with the Fat Man, and is over $11,000 up. There’s a break in the action, and Minnesota Fats goes to the washroom and freshens up. He combs his hair, cleans his fingernails, straightens his tie.

Then he comes out, dries off his hands, slides into his suitjacket—it’s a beautiful three piece suit he’s wearing—fixes his boutonniere on his lapel, and has the steward pour a little bit of talcum powder on his hands.

He looks absolutely magnificent, the picture of masculine elegance, calm, cool, controlled.

And then he looks at Eddie and he says,

“Fast Eddie, let’s play some pool.”

 
 

Although they’ve been playing for 25 hours straight, and although Fats has been losing for 25 hours straight, Fast Eddie doesn’t want to stop until Fats calls it quits. Which he doesn’t.

And that moment in the washroom is the turning point. From the moment Fats fixes that boutonniere and chalks up his hands, he begins to win. And Fast Eddie is ruined.

 
 

I’d seen that movie as a college student, but it wasn’t until I read Colin Powell’s book It Worked for Me that I remembered that scene. Those words, “Fast Eddie, let’s play some pool” had always stuck in General Powell’s mind and he talks in the book how he would use them whenever he had a difficult or momentous task in front of him, e.g., testifying before Congress, which he did many many times.

He recalls in the book how he would go to the men’s room right before he was due to speak, wash his hands, look at himself in the mirror, and say:

“Fast Eddie, let’s play some pool.”

He says that that little ritual would help calm him down to focus on the task at hand.

 
 

I have always loved that anecdote.

And though I’m sure it sounds silly to you, I started doing the same thing before I would preach on a big Sunday—say Christmas or Easter—or had a difficult meeting or was nervous about a speaking engagement.

Of course I pray and ask the Lord for help, but it would also kinda give me a little private smile to wash my hands, look at myself in the mirror, and say,

“Alright Fast Eddie, let’s play some pool.”

 
 

I begin a new job in the morning, and it feels as if I’m beginning a new chapter in my life, too.

Twenty years ago, I got my first job out of college.

And here I am starting all over again tomorrow.

I feel kinda like a kid going into a new school. (Lord, be with my children as they have their first days of school later this month.)

But, I really think the Lord has been sheepdogging us to Tulsa, which means he has work for us to do.

So, tomorrow morning before I leave the house, I’m going to brush my teeth, look myself in the mirror, and say,

“Fast Eddie, let’s play some pool.”

 
 

I'll be Live from Lakeside in the Morning!

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I’m Preacher for the Week at a Victorian vacation community on Lake Erie called Lakeside Chautauqua.

  • I preach tomorrow morning (7/24), 10:30 AM EDT (9:30 AM CENTRAL for you Texas and Oklahoma folks!) for the Sunday worship service.

  • Then I teach a Bible study each morning, 9-10 AM, Monday-Thursday.

  • And I give a short talk on Tuesday evening.

My theme for the week is the Prologue of the Book of Genesis, Chapters 1-11 (Creation to Babel). Can’t wait!

The Sunday worship service will be live-streamed. Would love to have you join.

 

Here’s the Link for the Sunday Livestream.

Remember, 9:30 CENTRAL, which is 10:30 AM EDT here in Ohio.

 

This Video Broke My Heart All Over Again

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This video just broke my heart all over again.

I haven’t been able to write about my last Munger Sunday—already two weeks ago!—and I’ll have more to say soon. But this afternoon someone surprised me with this beautiful highlight video from that day and as my little daughter and I watched it, we started crying all over again.

That last Sunday and those last 12 years were sweet beyond measure, and I am so grateful to have been able to share that time with the people we loved so much.

 
 
 

After 12 Years, I'll Be Leaving Munger This Summer

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Dear Friends,

After 12 years, I will be leaving Munger this summer; my last Sunday will be Pentecost Sunday, June 5, 2022.

As of July 1, I will become the senior pastor of Asbury United Methodist Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

I know this news hits you out of nowhere, so here’s what I want you to know: My wife Elaine and I feel as if the Lord is asking us to leave Munger and our home here in Texas and go to Asbury and Oklahoma.  And we believe that this move is the faithful next step God is asking us to take, as difficult as it may be.

You have loved us extravagantly for 12 years, and we’ve been extravagantly happy at Munger!  I preached this past Sunday about letting go of clarity and choosing trust, and that sermon came out of my own struggles to let go of the people and the place we love so much.  But, I know that God has good things for all of us—we just need to trust.

Asbury is an amazing church, and even with my limited perspective I can see that my gifts and Asbury’s gifts have the potential to make a great partnership.  God is good, and I am excited and grateful that the Lord has plans to use me in a new city.

I am also grateful that Highland Park United Methodist Church had the vision to start a new campus in an old church building in East Dallas and that I was invited to be a part of that plan.  The people of HPUMC gave sacrificially to make that vision happen, and I’ve personally seen the gospel change lives at Munger as a result.  I will never stop being grateful for that vision and generosity.

Yet our family is grieving like crazy because we love you so much; and precisely because we love you so much, we know we must be faithful to what we believe the Lord is asking us to do—anything less would be a betrayal of the love and trust you have in us.

As far as who will be the next pastor at Munger, let me briefly sketch how our system works: Munger is a campus of Highland Park UMC, and I am an associate pastor “appointed” to Highland Park United Methodist Church, and so it will be up to the Rev. Paul Rasmussen, senior minister at Highland Park UMC, and Bishop Mike McKee of the North Texas Conference of the United Methodist Church to determine whom to send to Munger.  Be praying for Paul and the Bishop.

We’ll have the next four months to grieve and give thanks together, and then we’ll be parted for a little while until we’re all reunited together forever.

We have work to do, and each day we get is a gift from God.

“If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.”  [Romans 14:8]

Can’t wait to see you Sunday.

Your friend,

Andrew

 

Update: Norm Macdonald, My Brother, and My Broken Face

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I previously told you a story about what happened when my middle brother and I were watching a Norm Macdonald weekend update episode in November 1997. My dad and my 7 (!) year-old youngest brother walked in the room just as Norm was making a wildly transgressive joke about Mary Kay Letourneau, the kind of joke Norm Macdonald specialized in and that made you squirm.

 

An Update From The Brother in Question:

Well, my brother (now a grown man and father of 4 little kids) just texted me to say he didn’t remember the incident at all—he said he was probably just saying something he knew would get a rise out of his older brothers. It makes me laugh now, but at the time I was MORTIFIED when it happened—right in front of my dad!—and am so glad to hear we didn’t mess up the little fella too much (at least that time). I guess the lesson is to be careful about what media the little ones in your house have access to! As my mom likes to say, “Little pitchers have big ears.”

 

Broken Face Story

Some of you have asked about the mention in the postscript about me breaking my face. (Others of you have heard the story previously.)

Here’s what happened:

The week after the incident above, I was playing soccer with a travel team when a boy from the other team came up behind me while I was on the ground and punched me with his full weight behind his fist—he hit me under my right eye socket. I didn’t see what happened but thought that someone had kicked me in the head. It really hurt. (I didn’t do anything to provoke it; it was an ill-tempered game and I just happened to be in the middle of it.)


So, my nose was broken and bleeding and I had a superficial cut under my eye, but it didn’t seem that serious. My mom was there and said, “We need to stitch that up.” So, I went to the hospital, but when there, they found my entire eye orbital was crushed like an eggshell, and I had to have immediate surgery. I woke up next day with a titanium mesh plate under the skin on the right side of my face.


After the surgery, I looked like a zombie—my face was green with bruises and my eye was swollen shut for the next week. Everyone at church and all the girls at school gave me lots of attention!

If you’ve ever thought about me, “No one looks that good naturally”, you are right—I had a lot of work done 24 years ago.

In the dental X-ray above you can see part of the 3D titanium mesh insert that’s holding up my eye.

You never know what the future holds, right?

41

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Today is my 41st birthday, and I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned this past pandemic year is to enjoy the gifts you have while you have them, because you never know when they’ll be taken away.

Say your worst fears of the future will be realized—what good is it to allow future pains to rob you of present joys?

 
 

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6:34.)

 
 

Each day may have trouble, but each day has plenty in which to delight, too.

So, here’s to delighting in each day that comes.

 
 

P.S. Folks at church surprised me with a cake tonight. 41 candles!

 

This Is Forty

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Today is my fortieth birthday.

 

The picture above was taken thirty years ago, when I was ten.

Ten years ago, I was thirty.

Ten years from now, I’ll be fifty.

FIFTY.

Folks have always been telling me something that I’ve now found myself to be true: life moves fast.

 
 

Today, I'm reflecting: What am I learning? What is my life about? What do I believe?

Three things.

There are three truths that I’m holding onto these days. Three insights I’ve learned not from books or from others but from my own experiences (experiences that are of course shaped by books and by others).

I believe my life is about these three things. This is what I believe, and because I have the privilege of leading and teaching others, this is what my ministry is about.

These three things are my mission, my focus, and my direction. I really believe that.

 
 

First, I believe in silence, stillness, and solitude.

In stillness is my strength. I know that anything important I will achieve will come from quieting my soul and just sitting before God. I have learned that John 15 is both a promise and warning: “I am the vine, and you are the branches. If you abide in me, and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

Creativity comes from silence, and hope from from stillness.

The biggest challenge of my life, though, is learning how to be still. Nothing else comes close.

 
 

Second, I believe in responsibility.

I’ve become more and more convinced that passivity is the primal temptation lurking in the heart of man. I face that temptation toward passivity every day, and my forties will be defined by my decisions to either take or shirk responsibility for my life and my family and for the people around me.

 
 

Third, I believe in the simplicity on the far side of complexity.

The simplicity this side of complexity is naive and foolish. This kind of simplicity wants neat answers with no remainders, shuts its eyes to inconvenient truths, and trades in polite lies.

The simplicity that is on this side of complexity is not worth a bucket of warm spit.

This is because life doesn’t easily provide neat answers, is full of inconvenient truths, and resists pat answers and platitudes.

It’s good, therefore, to move beyond the simplicity that lies on this side of complexity and to make your way into complexity itself.

But it’s not good to stay there. When you reach complexity, you need to keep going until you come out the other side.

You see, there is a simplicity on the far side of complexity that acknowledges that while life is certainly grey—not black and white—and certainly mysterious, there is still solid ground to stand on once you reach the other side.

You’ll know when you’ve reached the simplicity on the far side of complexity when you’ve examined all the hard questions and inconvenient details and come up with an answer that includes those things and yet provides clarity and a way forward.

Hot water from the tap is a simplicity that lies on the far side of complexity. Think of all the difficulties that have to be acknowledged and overcome to produce that everyday miracle of civilization.

The Constitution of the United States is a simplicity that lies on the far side of complexity. Think of all the insights into human nature that had to be acknowledged and overcome to produce that remarkable document.

“Here I stand: I can do no other.” Martin Luther’s famous declaration is a simplicity that lies on the far side of complexity. Think of all the wrestlings with God through an untold number of sleepless nights it cost Luther before he had the kind of clarity for which he was willing to die.

The simplicity on the far side of complexity can be big or small; it can be life-and-death or just a bit of everyday insight; it can be the result of centuries of slow technological advances (like the iPhone) or it can come flashing forth from revelation (like the Great Commandment).

But in whatever form it comes, it’s always beautiful and compelling.

And the simplicity on the far side of complexity is worth whatever it costs to learn.

 

This is forty, and this is what my life is about: learning and leading to the simplicity on the far side of complexity, where we experience the beautiful grace of God.

Here's to the Roaring Twenties

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It’s going to be a great decade—the Roaring Twenties!

I’m not naive, and I know there will be hard times ahead. But I also know that life is what you make of it, and I believe these next ten years will be the best ten years of my life.

Why Not?!

Every year I pick a One Word theme for the year, but since it’s a new decade, I’ve decided to be extravagant and also pick a 2 word theme for these next 10 years.

My two-word theme for the Roaring Twenties is, “Why Not?”

Last year, just after Dabo Swinney led the Clemson Tigers to their 2nd National Championship in 3 years, he gave a postgame interview—all of which is worth watching—30 seconds of which have stayed with me since I first saw it. Over the past year I’ve gone back to that clip often.

Some background: Dabo, who grew up poor in Alabama, was a walk-on for the Alabama football team while he and his mom shared an apartment, because she had nowhere else to live. Dabo’s Clemson beat Alabama for both of its recent national titles. Here’s the clip:

 

Dabo Swinney gives a memorable answer in his National Championship postgame interview, January 7, 2019.

 

I love that!

It’s going to be a great decade.

It’s going to be the Roaring Twenties.

It’s going to be the best 10 years of my life.

Why Not?!

 

P.S. What’s your One Word (or two or three) for the Roaring Twenties?

Leave me a comment below.

These Past 10 Years

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Ten years ago today, December 31, 2009, I was in a snowstorm in Boston, Massachusetts. In the picture above, taken on that afternoon—New Year’s Eve 2009—you can see me and my wife, along with my parents and my youngest brother, posing outside of The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, which was offering free admission for the holiday.

I stumbled across that picture today as I was reflecting on this past decade, and I’ve been struck this evening with the memories of all that has happened since.

These past ten years have been something, let me tell you.

I officially started work as the pastor for Munger Place Church on January 1, 2010, so I’ve been the Munger pastor for exactly 10 years, or 3,652 days. Munger didn’t exist as a church when I punched in that first day of 2010 (we launched worship in October of that year), and as excited as I was for the opportunity to help bring life back into our old building and into our neighborhood and launch a new church, I can honestly say that what has happened at and through Munger over the past decade far exceeds anything I could have imagined 10 years ago.

One of my strongest desires was to be the pastor of a church that people wanted to attend; one of my greatest blessings these days is to know that in those of us who call ourselves Mungarians, that desire has been realized: we love coming together as a church on Sundays (and other special days).

The video taken below is from this past Christmas Eve 2019. We opened our doors for our services 30 minutes before the services were to begin; when we did so, there were crowds of people already lining up to enter church. Here’s the video of the doors opening at 4:30 PM for our 5:00 PM service. How great is that?!

Folks waiting to enter the church when the doors open 30 minutes beforehand. Munger Place Church. Christmas Eve 2019.

You can’t see it in the Boston NYE picture at the top of this post, but my wife was 4 months pregnant with our son on New Year’s Eve 2010, so I’ve officially been a father for the past 10 years, as well as being a pastor, though both son and church were embryonic when 2010 began!

I’m at home with my little family this New Year’s Eve, and though I always knew I wanted to be a father—I wanted a whole gang of kids— I can honestly say that being together with my family is the source of my greatest joy and that marriage and fatherhood and family have far exceeded what I could have imagined 10 years ago.

One blessing I didn’t imagine was the blessing that comes from being the father to a daughter. I came from a family of boys and I first became a father to a boy, so princess dresses and pink stuffed animals were not things I had personal experience with before my daughter was born. Having a little girl—and a very girly little girl, at that—in the house is a source of constant delight and amusement for me. I love being the father to a daughter!

I don’t think I would have believed, if you had told me 10 years ago, how blessed my life has been and how many beautiful people and experiences would be a part of my life, 12/31/2009 to 12/31/2019. These past 10 years have really been something.

Of course, these past 10 years have not been without pain and difficulty, too.

Being involved in any kind of start-up venture is stressful, and being part of a new church start is no exception. I’ve aged a lot in the past 10 years, and no doubt some of my grey hairs (I have some on my temples these days!) are due to my work at Munger.

And being a pastor is not an easy job. My job is worlds easier than many of my pastoral colleagues in my city and around the world—I have nothing to complain of—but even at a cushy gig like Munger there are the difficulties that come from leading and loving people. This past year, e.g., has been by far the hardest I’ve had in ministry. As a pastor, I’ve pressed my forehead into the living room carpet in anxious and desperate prayer, had relationships severed, faced serious opposition, and tasted despair for the first time in my life.

I have learned lots about love and grace this past year and this past decade, and even now I can say I’m grateful, though the learning has come with a cost. (As does anything worth having.)

But, as is always the case in life, the most difficult and painful times have come in my personal life. About a year after the birth of our son, my wife was struck with constant and inexplicable vertigo. For several months in early 2011 my mother-in-law and sister-in-law came to live with us to help care for Elaine. Over the course of several years of medical explorations, we finally ended up at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. After that, my wife had a serious of inexplicable miscarriages. When she finally did become pregnant with the baby who would turn out to be our little princess, she had a series of catastrophic events happen afterwards.

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I will never forget being up all night in the waiting room, kept company by some men from our small group, and wondering how I was going to wake up our son and tell him his mother died. Through the grace of God, that didn’t have to happen, but I don’t think I’ll ever think of the birth of my daughter without a sick feeling in my gut.

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We won’t ever have any more natural children: that door is now shut forever. If I could wave a magic wand and change anything from the last decade, that’s what I would change. But I can’t, and so we won’t.

Which is not to say that I’m unwilling to accept that things might be exactly as God needs them to be. And also not to say that I am not joyfully grateful for the life and family God has given me.

As I’ve written before, I think the difficulties we’ve had together has made me more grateful of my wife and family than I would otherwise have been.

The 2 Words of Advice I Would Give The Me of 10 Years Ago

I don’t want to know the future—I think I would be too terrified of the difficult times and too likely to mess up the good times. The future needs to be sealed away until its proper time.

So, I would not want to go back to New Year’s Eve 2009 and tell myself in that Boston snowstorm all that was going to happen. But, there are 2 words of advice that I would like to have given to my 2009 self, and 2 words about which I’m reminding myself tonight.

Pray. It is only prayer than can prepare us to face the hard times. I wish I had prayed more and prayed more deliberately and habitually this past decade. God gives peace and poise through prayer; prayer is preparation.

Because life is hard, I would like to have told myself to pray.

Praise. I wish I had rejoiced and praised more this past decade. Every breath is a gift from God, and every day I get to see is a blessing. Praise is the only appropriate response to all that we’ve been given.

Because life is sweet, I would like to have told myself to praise.

I couldn’t have imagined in that Boston snowstorm all that God would give me these past 10 years, and I can never be grateful enough for all my blessings.

I don’t know what the next 10 years will hold, but I strongly suspect that on New Year’s Eve 2029 (if God allows me to see it), that I’ll be saying the same thing:

Thank you!

My Uncle, 50 Years After Vietnam

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The Thanksgiving after my grandmother died, I remember we went back to my grandparents’ house and were visiting as a family around the dining room table. For some reason, I asked my uncle if he ever thought about Vietnam. His answer: every single day. That answer surprised me, because like most veterans, my uncle never really talked about his experiences over there.

It’s been 50 years since my uncle came home, and this past Monday (Veterans Day) his local newspaper did a short piece on him. My cousin sent it to me yesterday. I’ve attached screenshots of the the article below.

God bless you, Uncle Robert.

Texas Hill Country Wedding

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I traveled down to my favorite part of Texas on Saturday: that part of the Hill Country that stretches from Burnet down through Utopia. I was officiating a wedding for some good friends of mine at their family’s ranch in Burnet.

The wedding was on a hilltop that was only accessible via a rocky path; the view made the remote location worth it.

With my great friend Cleve, proud father of the groom.

With my great friend Cleve, proud father of the groom.

As I drove away from the ranch, the moon was rising behind me…

As I drove away from the ranch, the moon was rising behind me…

While the sun was setting in front of me.

While the sun was setting in front of me.

A great day.

Birthday Wish for Blood Donors

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Today is my wife Elaine's birthday, and she's out for blood:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Po4S_eDl4M


Two years ago, my wife Elaine needed 30 units of blood to save her life after the birth of our daughter. So for her birthday, she's asking you to consider being a blood donor.

Blood Drive Details

We're hosting a Blood Drive at Munger Place Church on Good Friday, April 19, 11a-5p (childcare 11a-1p).

Register here.

Even if you don't live in Dallas, please consider being a blood donor in your city.

Give the lady what she wants!

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