As Mari was teaching this past weekend about the Ark and the people of Israel consecrating themselves for the journey ahead (Joshua 3), I started thinking about my tub. I had to fix mine this past weekend and it’s been rumored that the average home repair takes 3 trips to the local hardware store. Personally, I’d love it if it only took me 3 visits. Fortunately for me, I didn’t need any trips to the store for this fix. We had a slow drain.

The big decision I had to make was this – should I lug my whole, heavy toolbox upstairs or just grab the tools that I need? Obviously, I don’t want to be carry all that weight and all those tools upstairs. Besides that, I’ve done this job before so I know what I’m doing.

Trip Downstairs #1: I grabbed my channel-lock pliers, a screwdriver, and a wire coat hanger. Why the coat hanger? Ask someone who has daughters or a wife with long hair. They can tell you the gross details.

I get back upstairs to the tub, grip the top of the drain with the channel-locks and quickly realize that I cannot hold on to the bottom part of the drain. It’s too slippery. I need another set of channel-locks.

Trip Downstairs #2: Get second set of channel-locks.

Back upstairs to the tub, grip the bottom of drain. Top turns right off with little problem. Grab screwdriver to completely remove drain when I notice I have a Phillips head and I need a flathead.

Trip Downstairs #3: Grab flathead screwdriver.

Back upstairs to the tub, put screwdriver into tub drain and now see that this particular flathead is too narrow. I need a wider flathead.

Trip Downstairs #4: Grab fatter flathead screwdriver.

Back upstairs to the tub, fatter flathead works like a charm. Drain comes right off. Grab wire hanger to clean out drain. Realize I don’t have my plastic trash bag to put treasure that I am digging up.

Trip Downstairs #5: Grab plastic trash bag. Grab rubber gloves. Pat myself on back for avoiding Trip Downstairs #6.

Back upstairs to the tub, clean out drain with no problem. Put…stuff in bag and then tie bag up.

Put drain drain back together and realize that during Trip Downstairs #5, I took the fat flathead out of my pocket to answer the phone. Fat Flathead is now sitting on downstairs kitchen counter.

Trip Downstairs #6: Grab fatter flathead.

Back upstairs to the tub, put the drain back in with no problem. Grab bag to throw. Bask in the glory of a job done.

Trip Downstairs #7: Grab an ice tea and some peanuts. Amy asks – did you test to see if that solved the problem?

Back upstairs to the tub. Turn on water. Drains like a…well…not really sure what simile to use here. It works great.

Trip Downstairs #8: Tell Amy yes. Realize I left my drink on the bathroom counter upstairs.

Sell the house for a single floor, ranch style home.

I am curious how many of us approach our faith like this? We show up to a task bringing the bare minimum of what we think is required for the job. After all, we’ve done this before. We know what we are doing. We just want to get this done so that we can go on with the rest of our day/week/life.

Instead, our lack of CONSECRATION to the task at hand turns a simple job into a lot of work, a lot of frustration, and at times makes the accomplishment of the task impossible.

I loved Mari’s definition of Consecration she taught us this week – to make ready, to get prepared. When God told the Israelites to Go!, He first told them to GET READY – to consecrate themselves. Do what you know to do, what you need to do to be in a place to obey, to get the job done.

Next time you hear a GO! from the Lord, consecrate yourself. Bring the whole tool box.

This originally appeared as a weekly evo for whillschurch.org

Last night we opened Christmas gifts from my Dad and Mary while they were on FaceTime. (By the way, this is just one more reason why I think the iPhone is best invention ever. But I digress.)

Mary is my stepmother who turned my son and daughters to the dark side. She discipled my own kids against me right under my nose to become Auburn fans. I was powerless against her. My dad has questioned my paternal leadership because of this. My only response has been – she’s your wife and you couldn’t stop her either.

As the wrong kind of orange and blue presents were being unwrapped, my dad asked me – “How many Christmases is this for y’all?”

“Too many. I’ve quit fighting it.”

We will have Christmas with my Mom and Dad (stepdad). Christmas with Dad and Mary. Christmas with Amy’s parents. And then our kids will get the gifts we got them as well. It’s ridiculous and I’ve fought this for so many years and lost every single time. It’s hard enough for parents to win against one set of grandparents. Try three.

But 35 years ago, I would have never seen this day as a possibility. That was when my world was put upside down by my parent’s divorce. It wasn’t common back in the 70′s particularly in the Deep South. I had never heard of it. Didn’t even know that was possible.

But it was happening to me and it wasn’t pretty. At age 7, I understood little of what was going on. I just knew that my world was completely shattered and changing in ways I had no control over.

A very dark thread.

Black threads on a tapestry add depth, perspective, and balance. In the hands of a master artist, they give a framework for the masterpiece. They are never the focal point. But without them, the focal point never takes center stage. Those that enjoy the art hardly ever notice the black threads. We are too overwhelmed by the rest of the picture. But they are there.

We all get black threads. The question is what to do with them. Do we stuff them away? Denying the shame, guilt, and hurt? Believing that there is no place for them in our lives? Or do we make them the centerpiece? Choosing to be a victim forever more. Focusing on the darkness, believing that there really is no color left in life?

Only a true, gifted master artist can take a mistake, a blotch, a dark thread and weave into the larger picture to make it look like that it belong there all along. Using the mistake as a strength. Taking the bad and make it reflect something good.

But this requires leaving the black threads in the master’s hands. Allowing him to use it when and where he sees fit. It might not be immediately seen what he is doing but we trust his handiwork. We’ve seen him do this before – over and over again. So we trust him, even though it looks unfixable, unredeemable.

35 years later, I’m living in the middle of a rich, deep, wonderful tapestry. All of the in-laws, out-laws, and step-laws love each other. They exchange gifts between themselves. They’ve spent holidays all with each other over the years, stayed in each other’s houses. Impossible? 35 years ago – yes.

But God does his best work in the 9th hour with the darkest threads…when He’s given the chance. His own birth is proof of that.

Merry Christmas. And know that He still uses the dark threads.

We’ve been dancing around this issue for a while now. How many discussions and arguments have we had? To many to count. And I know I’ve said these words before but this time it’s serious.

I’m done with you, Facebook.

I’m leaving. The key is on the counter.

Don’t even ask why. You know why. And yes, we started out well – a place where I could keep parents updated on the kids and life in general. A place to catch up with students and post announcements and invite the guys over for Halo.

But then it went….pear-shaped. It got complicated. Awkward. Hurtful.

Every time we settle into a good groove, you’d change. Security settings, features, layout. In short, you became the focus of the relationship instead of a means of relationship. It’s like having another wife – I can’t keep up with all the buttons I have to push or unpush to keep you happy and safe.

And the uninvited “Wall Posts.” I get there are people that really into Twilight or politics or Pirates vs. Ninjas or Farmville. I’m happy for them — okay, honestly, I’m not happy for them. I seriously wonder about their ability to function in normal society but that isn’t the point right now. The point is – it’s my wall, not theirs. I don’t want that junk on there yet I can’t keep it off without having to constantly clicking on your website.

While we are talking about this – can you explain the logic of this? You’ll let anybody post on my wall but you won’t let me publish my blog to my own notebook anymore. What’s up with that? Petty. Very, very petty.

And you’ve devalued what a ‘friend’ is. Current friend count for me – 804. How many of these friends would stop on the side of the road to help me change a flat tire? (I know how to change a flat tire by myself – do not miss the point.) How many of them would I WANT them to stop and help me? Who would have ever thought a friend request would send me into some deep, existential debate? Are we really friends or are we just acquaintances?

You’ve forced people to be lazy and unreasonable. This isn’t totally your fault. But I can’t keep up with all these people’s lives that they seem to be living vicariously online. Partly because I have my own life that I am in the middle of. Partly because I don’t want anything to do with this voyeuristic ritual of knowing what is going on with every single person I’m connected to.

I’m tired of people putting stuff online that they would never say in person. Tired of the immaturity of trying to prove creation, evolution, truth of scripture, pro-life, pro-choice or whatever hot-button issue through links, posts, and comments. I’m tired of people dragging everybody else in the middle of their drama by posting these not-so-cryptic updates slamming someone else. I’m tired of others thinking that just because it’s on Facebook, they should have an opinion on it.

I’m tired of people asking me ‘did you see what so-so put on Facebook?’ (I didn’t. And if I did, I wouldn’t talk to you about it.) I’m tired of those people who get offended easily because they honestly think every post is a personal attack against them. (By the way, I’ve learned it’s just easier to tell them it was about them.) I’m tired of people getting unjustly upset because I am not up to speed on the drama or issues in their life that they have carefully recorded on their profile.

I’m tired of having to only ‘like’ things. Where is the unlike button? Not that it matters. I wouldn’t come back for that.

I’m tired of having to think through a post to make sure it is kind, smart, insightful, funny, non-offensive, vague enough to protect the guilty, or remotely relevant.

In short, I’m tired of you and your drama. And your unspoken expectations. And your unfulfilling, time-wasting, mind-numbing games that steal time from real life, real conversations, real relationships.

So we’re done. I’m walking away. It’s over. I hope you understand but then again it doesn’t matter if you do or not.

Real life awaits.

Grant

Photo is of the Scottish Highlands from the personal journal of actuality.log on emphaticallystatic.org.

I first heard the term ‘Thin Place’ from my closet-mystic buddy in Little Rock, Arkansas. He was a brilliant mind, worked in the medical field and for all exterior looks was a very rational, cerebral man. But on the inside he longed for the ‘thin places.’ Those places where the holy and mundane collide. Those places where we get a surprise glimpse of the eternal, the Kingdom revealed – he used to tell me.

The phrase stuck with me – Thin Places, holy moments. He always slipped into an Irish brogue when he said it – so I’ve always equated Thin Places with the Scottish Highlands. Even though Scottish and Irish are different…I know. The point is we had a Thin Place moment this weekend in our service.

You wouldn’t think a Thin Place moment would happen in a service where all the kids under 5th grade were at the front in a conversation with the pastor. At least, I wouldn’t have ever thought it would happen in that kind of setting. My biggest goal was to stay as engaging and active with the kids as possible so they would understand the concept of Wonderful Counselor.

I also was prepared in case it went pear-shaped (see last week’s devo).

It’s a double-edge sword working with kids like this. They have no filter. Which means awesome interaction as well as …”Hey look, it’s a squirrel” moments.

And we had some squirrel moments. One child saying she hated wearing clothes for Christmas. Another saying that her cat was the most wonderful thing in her life. Another talking about how wonderful ninjas are.

And then it happened.

“What else is wonderful, beyond words wonderful in your life?”

Adopted.

The. Room. Just. Stopped.

Thin Place. Holy Moment.

It felt like eternity was stuffed in those 3 seconds.

Adopted.

The boy was in our life group. He and his sister loved coming over. I looked at the boy’s dad. He was in part shock, part awe. I knew him well. I wasn’t sure how he was keeping it together. I figured he’d be a blubbering, crying mass of emotions. I looked at the mom. She was beaming, like she was going to float right out of her chair.

The entire room took a breath.

Adopted.

The parents had already raised their own kids – gone, on their own. They were looking forward to some grandchildren. Then the someone asked for the largest favor on the planet – we need help. We’ve got these two kids – a brother and a sister – they don’t have anywhere to go.

What were they supposed to do? Say no? On the other hand, what were they thinking? Start all over again? Did they have that many more miles on the tread?

Adopted.

It’s been a year or two. The adoption was final just in the last couple of months. There’s never been any regrets. The kids think they got the coolest parents in the world (they do), the parents wonder how they are still doing this and loving this (they really do know the answer to that as well).

Adopted.

What a word for the rest of us at Christmas. The boy was talking about himself but he might as well been talking about all of us. Christmas is about adoption. Our adoption into the family of God through our faith in the Christ-child.

Adopted.

Christ was born and lived so that we could say the most wonderful thing in the world is…

Adopted.

What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it—we’re called children of God! That’s who we really are. I John 3:1 MSG

This originally was written for the weekly evo on whillschurch.org

Cooper and I stayed up to midnight Monday night to get the ‘new’ Halo:Anniversary Edition video game. It’s actually an old game that they’ve digitally remastered. Think the Star Wars movies in the ’90s without making Han Solo shoot second. (Yes, Lucas…we are still mad about this. And it’s not going to matter if you put it in 3-D. Han shot Guido first and it should stay like that. And I’m not thrilled about the end of Return of the Jedi on the Blu-Ray either…another post, another time.)

We do things like this. We did the midnight Harry Potter movie experience – both part 1 and part 2. We did the midnight Star Wars experience. And now the Halo Midnight Experience. And so far, they’ve always been fun but last night was a bit different. The crowd was a bit different. Lots of black, wallets on chains, goth, boot wearing kind of people. Not really what I was expecting.

I’ll let my texts between Amy and I tell the story…

Amy: Lots of people there?

Grant: (Sends above picture) Yep.

Amy: Anyone Coop’s age or all older?

Grant: All older. And probably all live in their parent’s basement. With Cheetos.

Amy: Ha ha

Grant: I’m dead serious. I honestly think that most of these people are not normal.

Grant: Cooper just informed me that if he had a Master Chief outfit, he’d totally be rockin’ it right now. I told him … “By yourself.”

Grant: The guy behind me just said that this line (around 75 people) is small compared to last week. (It’s like this is church or something..) I’m tempted to turn around and ask how does he have the money to buy new games every week but then that would probably lock me into a conversation with a guy that I really don’t want to talk to.

Amy: No need for weird random conversations at midnight.

Grant: Amen to that.

A few seconds of silence…

Grant: There are some REALLY weird people out here. I really need to tweet some of this stuff.

Amy: Don’t forget – you are in that line as well.

Awkward moment of realization.

Two things that are important about this experience, though. First, there was another game released beside Halo this week. Some game called the Elder Scrolls or Trolls Are Us or Dark Magic. It explains all the goth that was being thrown down in the line Monday night.

Second, I really wanted to stay home. But I’m glad I went. That’s a night that won’t happen again. That’s laughter and a memory that one day we will both tell around the Thanksgiving table with multiple generations. And all it cost me was just a few hours sleep. That’s it. Small price to pay.

I’ve caught myself at times taking the lazy way out of parenting. Saying ‘no’ to things that really don’t have a moral or value judgement behind it. More like – “I’m tired and I want to be left alone” value. And there are times when I absolutely need some alone time to recharge and refocus…but it can’t be at the expense of my family. Can’t.

Ephesians 1:3 got me thinking about this. Our Heavenly Father has given us every spiritual blessing in Jesus. Anything that has to do with a relationship with Him, deepening an experience with God, He has said “YES” at every single point. Jesus was the biggest YES in history. No – you’re to sinful, messed up. I’m too busy, too pure comments from God. Jesus was his “Yes” to every relational question and pursuit to humanity.

I want to be that kind of dad to my kids as well. Anything that is going to deepen my relationship – yes. Anything that is going to further their journey towards and with Jesus – yes. And when my first reaction is to say “no”, I’m going to pause and ask ‘how come?’ Is there a deeper value at play here? Is this a situation where I need to protect? Or is the ‘no’ just part of being lazy?

We got home and played the first mission. Coop crawled into bed by 1 am. We were both seriously dragging Tuesday morning…but it’s just sleep.