Languages of Love

Tonight is the last high school athletic event at home I will ever attend to watch my son compete...After today, he only has two more track meets and his high school career is over.  Every year since he was 6, our years have been marked by the passing of sports seasons and always the anticipation of the next one coming up.  Even though there may be college seasons to come, we will not be riding to and from the game and figuring out where to eat, or asking him if he wants to ride the bus or come home with his mom and I.  He won't come home and crash on the couch or complain about starving because there's no food in the cupboard before heading out with a friend.  This is the last time he and his sister will ever compete for the same team and cheer each other on as only siblings can do.

I'm sure many people have looked at our family over the years and thought that sports were too important to us.  And I'm equally sure that there were times that they were.  But sports provided a language to communicate the life lessons that were important.  They gave a context to developing character and integrity.  Giving your all, sacrificing for a goal, being gracious when people were laying blame at your feet and humble when those same people were heaping praise upon your head; sports gave an opportunity to communicate these lessons.  Sports gave us the opportunity to discuss how we should act when those in authority acted poorly, or wronged us, and it provided a real life struggle to "when is it OK to quit?".  They gave us a platform to discuss using your gifts with all your might because they were gifts from God.  Sports gave us a common language, like the family that camps, or the one that hunts, or any other shared passion.  But now I need to learn another language.  Because this season is coming to an end, and the next season is soon here.

Sadly, as a father, if you do it right, there will come a time when your son no longer wants to speak your shared language.  He will begin to yearn to find his own voice, struggle to find his own place.  He will speak of wanting to leave, exasperated by your mere presence.  Your attempts to connect using the old words will be seen as meddlesome and invasive.  And it will hurt. 

As my son prepares to leave for college, he has one foot planted at home, in the security of the past, and another foot stepping out into the unknown.  My most heartfelt desire is that the the lessons he learned within our home will provide him firm footing.  And to do that, he must find his own voice, a voice that resonates with the strength of his own convictions. 

So today, I have one foot firmly planted in the security of the past.  I still feel the solid weight of his little  body, exhausted from play and now sleeping in my arms.  I close my eyes and see him spot my car from a distance and race along the sidewalk to jump into my arms as soon as I pull up.  I recall sitting up throughout the nights as his broken leg gave him no rest, and sitting with him on the side of our bed as his broken heart did the same.

But I also have one foot stepping out into the unknown.  I am at times shaken by the effort required to let go of the past and give him up to his future.  I sometimes long for the comfort of our old language and resent the awkwardness that comes with learning a new one.  But then I look at him and see him as he is, a man with a heart for those less fortunate, a desire to lift them up and show them love, to see their value in the way he values them.  And then I realize, that is a voice worth hearing, a language worth learning.

Growing Pains

Ok, I have a confession to make.  It's something that I have attempted to to hide from everyone but the weight of it has grown too heavy, so here it is..( deep breath )...I watched the Video Music Awards on MTV last month....Waitaminute. its not what you think, I just really wanted to see the N'synch reunion song.....Ummmm, maybe that"s worse than what you were thinking, but c'mon, Justin Timberlake was reallly cool....

But there was another performance that night that overshadowed the whole N'synch/ JT performance ( which was AWESOME )...This performance instantly became the most tweeted about event in the history of Twitter ( granted, that's only 7 years, but you get the point )..It quickly became the focal point of every entertainment news outlet and the target for many christian bloggers...(ummmmm, hey,  I waited a month)...You know the one I'm talking about, the Robin Thicke performance....

Oh, you thought I was going to say Miley Cyrus!?...Well, yeah, she was there too, but maybe you didn't see what I saw.  I saw a 36 year husband and father simulating sex acts with a 20 year old young woman while singing lyrics that some industry critics had labeled " creepy" and "rapey"...But in some ways , he was just re-enacting his music video for the song.  In an interview with GQ, he responded to a question regarding the videos content by saying ,"What a pleasure it is to degrade a woman. I've never gotten to do that before. I've always respected women.".  Well, apparently he has gotten over that...And the irony is not lost on me that Robin Thicke is the son of " Americas favorite dad", Alan Thicke from "Growing Pains".  It makes you wonder how Mr . Seaver would have responded if he had caught Mike acting in the same fashion (if you don't remember great '80s sitcoms, then you have no idea what I'm talking about ). But apparently Mr. Thicke did not espouse the same values in his real life which Mr. Seaver exemplified every Thursday night at 8:30 of my childhood ( seriously, rebellious Mike?!  Young Ben?!..Nothing???).  And therein is my issue with what I saw.  You see, when questioned about why she would gyrate in a latex bikini onstage while miming every sexual cliche, entertainment pundits said that she was demonstrating that she is a woman now, not the Disney princess that  many still see her as. And I agree......

As a father, I monitor all the Facebook and Twitter activity of my children ( Mr. Seaver would have done the same thing with Carols accounts! ).  I am consistently shocked by what I read, the sexual nature of so many young teenage girls posts and photos.  I am saddened by the posts of young men encouraging them to do so.  And I am appalled at the lack of guidance provided by parents.  

I agree that Miley was attempting to show us all that she is not who we want her to be, that she is now a "woman".  You see, we have raised a generation of young women who equate becoming a woman solely in the context of their sexuality.  So, logically, as they attempt to show that they are no longer " little girls", they become complicit in the objectification of women as objects of sexual desire and nothing else.  And who is to blame?

The easy finger to point is at " The Media", but I don't personally know any. And so I turn to the next easiest, THEIR MOMS!!....Well, actually, I guess I will leave that for you ladies to discuss ( like Maggie Seaver, a work from home journalist...No?..).   I trust every mother to take a hard look at where they are teaching their daughters to find their validation, but that is not my point of writing today. 

 I blame Alan Thicke, and Robin Thicke, and I look within my own life to see if I share the blame also..Every father and husband who desires for their wives and daughters to feel the freedom and blessings which flow from a right relationship with their creator, the joy of discovering who they truly are; a masterpiece, a poem written directly from their fathers heart,you should check your life also to see if you share in the blame.

Do you treasure your wife?  Do you reserve your highest praise for her?  Do you complement her?  Do you intentionally seek to capture her heart with the same passion you once did?  Or do your words and actions tell her something else?  Is she your helpmate, your partner in this one and only life, or have you relegated her to something less?

What of your daughters?  Do you value their strength, their convictions?  Do you highlight those same qualities in the lives of other women, or do your daughters hear you valuing something else entirely?  Do you hug your daughters for the right reasons, because if you do not, they will find someone to hug them for all the wrong ones...


I want my daughter to look at the qualities of her mother and identify them as womanly.  Her talents, her loyalty, her courage, her resolve.  Her passionate love for her family and her devotion to her friends, this is what I wish for my daughter.  As a father, do I re-enforce that through my words, my actions?

It is so easy to point my  finger out the window of my life at all of those people who are the easiest targets.  But if I truly desire more for those precious lives which I have been entrusted with, I must first cast my gaze upon myself ( that sounds like something Jason , a work from home psychologist would have said to one of his clients he met with in his office just off the living room...Still nothing?!...wow..).  And that requires you to first take a true inventory of what you value.  But take a look at your daughter today, surely nothing is more valuable than that.


A wife of noble character who can find?
    She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her
    and lacks nothing of value......... 
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things,
    but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.- Proverbs 31

Hurting, Helpless, but Not Hopeless

Yesterday, as I watched my oldest child head off to the first day of his senior year, his beautiful sister in the passenger seat, I couldn't help but remember them as they always remain in my memory, chubby and cute, curly hair all atangle, dropping their tricycles as they see my car come around the corner and taking off as fast as their little feet could take them to hug me as soon as I stepped out of the car.

 A few minutes later, My wife and I  had to remain parked in the junior high parking lot for a few extra moments to dry the tears that had surprised us as we had watched my youngest child disappear into the throng of adolescent children shaking off summer and heading back to school. And as we lingered, I longed. ...I longed to tell each of his teachers that he was not just one of many....That he was special.  I wanted to tell them about praying over a child covered in tubes and beyond our grasp beneath a glass dome.  I wanted to tell them about waiting outside surgical rooms, my arms literally aching to hold him.  I wanted to tell them about his brother shaking with rage, his little 10 year old fists clenched, asking if it were okay to hit someone for calling his brother a hurtful name, his sister crying with the anger which true fear can bring towards a loved one after she couldn't find him in the neighborhood only to discover upon his return that he had went to his friends house...I wanted them to understand that he's special.  But instead we drove away...

I wish I could write that as we drove away, I felt a peace wash over me...But I didn't.  Instead,  I have felt an anxiety that I have not experienced in quite awhile.  My mind continues to return to his classrooms, the hallways.  Is he walking with kids or is he alone?  Is he having fun or is the newness of it all causing him distress?  I want only for him to experience the best that this life has to offer; friendships, excitement, and fun...

When my oldest child was around 7 or 8, his sister 4, and Caden around 2 years old, we went to visit my brothers new house in Portland which was under construction at that time.  As he showed us around the 2nd story, I became aware that Caden was not with us.  We rushed through the house and found him next to an unfinished open window.  The terror I felt as I rushed to grab him and looked out the window and the 30 foot drop has never left me.  It brought back all the memories and emotions that I felt as they had wheeled him away from his mother and I so many times; hopeful, hurting, helpless.  And I suppose I determined at that time that I would always protect him, always keep him from harm.  But I know that I cannot, and that leaves me feeling hurting and helpless, but not hopeless.

I love my children.  I love my strong and talented eldest son with the desire to protect those he loves.  I love his heart, so strong in its convictions, contained within a strong and fit body .  I love his desire to excel.  I love his musical gifts which he wields so humbly,  his wonderful sense of humor.  I love my daughter, her mind so sharp and amazing.  I love her determination to be the best; not at someone else s expense but because she simply knows no other way.  I love her commitment to her faith, her total lack of compromise in her convictions.  I love her fierce loyalty to her family and friends. And I love my youngest.  I love his sense of joy, his love for people and loyalty to friends.  I love his laugh, his inability to see the bad in people, only the good.  I love how everyone is just a friend he hasn't met yet.  I am in awe of his physical toughness, his body a testament to no jump left untried, no speed too fast.....I love my children so much that its hard to release them to other people who might not know just how amazing they are, how special they are, who don't love them like I do...But that is where I find my hope.

I have been repeating within my head, my heart , my soul, the truth that I cling to, that despite how much I love my children, regardless of how much you love yours....He loves them more.  It is nearly impossible to conceive how such a thing could be true, but I know that it is.  And that is where I look today to find my peace, on that one irrefutable and immutable truth.  His heart broke with ours as our son was was taken away, the doors swinging behind the doctors.  He was there with us in the waiting rooms as our hearts groaned...He was there on every chair and paced step.  He was there as our tears fell on the tiled floors.  He was there, loving my child even more that I do..

Today, I still feel helpless, my heart still hurts, but I have hope, and I know that peace will soon follow, because of the truth being whispered within my very being....He loves them more.

Grenades and Yellow Lights

During the early years of our marriage, my wife worked at a florist shop and I worked at the local YMCA.  One of my jobs was driving the van around to the various daycare facilities to pick up the children and bring them back to the YMCA for basic water safety classes.  After picking up a particularly energetic group one day, I decided to play a game in an attempt to channel their energy in a more constructive fashion.  As I pulled up to a red light,  I asked the group" what does a red light mean?".  In unison they all yelled  "STOP"....  " Nice job", I told them.  When the light turned green, they were even more enthusiastic in yelling "GOOOOOOO...". We proceeded down the street and approached the next light.  As the van got closer, the light turned yellow and I was greeted by the loudest response yet as every voice screamed, "SPEED UP!!!"........

Our lives are, in many ways, defined by how we respond to the yellow lights we encounter.  Yellow lights are by their very definition warnings.  As one who has spent his entire adult life working in some capacity with youth, I look back and hear within the majority of my messages a call to heed the warnings in our life. And yet, I am constantly shocked by the human capacity to believe that the warnings of life are not intended for us.

A few months ago,  shortly after I ushered my teenage children out the door to school, my wife and I were about to relax with coffee when my phone vibrated in my pocket.  It was one of my youth group kids who had over slept and missed his bus.  We got in the van and headed out to give him a ride in the early morning chill. After picking him up, we were heading back into town when we were forced to stop by the presence of a local police car parked across the road.  The officer pointed us onto a detour and we went on our way.  After dropping off my friend, we went home and hopped on Facebook in order to see if there were any news as to why that portion of road in town was closed.  We went on the police page and were surprised to find that a grenade had been found on the sidewalk.  The bomb squad arrived on the scene and took care of the issue in short order.  But it got me thinking...Why did I follow the police officers directives to take another route?  Because he had seen the danger which lay directly ahead...

And that is why we warn those we love, because danger lies ahead.  As a father, I stand in the road and point my children to the path away from danger.  I monitor their facebook and twitter and point them away from hurtful words and dangerous interactions.   I love them enough to risk their anger as I give them curfews and limit the time spent with certain friends.  " Nothing good happens after midnight" is a refrain my children can recite at any given time, usually with a roll of their eyes. But  I have seen too many people become injured, both emotionally and physically , by the decisions of the fools they associate with to allow those I love to pass around my figure in the road and head towards the grenade. Because I have seen the grenade, I stand firm in the middle of their path and warn them. But do I have the credibility necessary for them to heed my pleas?

Those children in that van those many years ago were only reciting what they had been taught.  Not by the words spoken by their parents, but by the actions displayed by them.

A mother tells her daughter she is beautiful just the way God created her but then constantly hates her own body, even though she is built the same way...

A father tells his daughter she should wait til marriage before having sex but never hugs her, denying her the affection she so desperately craves from him....

A father tell his children that all people should be treated with respect but uses words and slang that devalues particular groups...

A coach tells his players that integrity is to be valued but looks the other way at the behavior of star players...

We so often tell our family and friends that we would die for them, but do we have the courage and selflessness to live for them, to become examples of lives lived well?

Most of us have heard the saying to "practice what we preach", but most people are not aware that is was Jesus who first spoke it, to the religious leaders whose words did not match their behaviors.  Lately I have heard and seen words and actions within my children that I despise.  I despise them because I realize they are simply living what I modeled.  And that awareness has driven me to my knees to pray...for forgiveness, for healing, for help...Help in becoming the father they deserve, the friend my friends deserve, the pastor my church deserves..

On that chilly day, I took the detour because I trusted the officer.  If we want those in our lives to heed our warnings, we need to be trustworthy, to possess integrity.  I have seen the danger ahead, I desperately want people to avoid the paths which lead to destruction.  Do I possess the credibility within my own life to point them to the paths which lead to blessings, to Gods plan to give them a hope and a future?

It is a humbling question, but one I pray none of us shy away from.  The stakes are too high and the consequences too real.

Now then, my sons, listen to me;
    pay attention to what I say.
 Do not let your heart turn to her ways
    or stray into her paths.
 Many are the victims she has brought down;
    her slain are a mighty throng.
 Her house is a highway to the grave,
    leading down to the chambers of death.-Proverbs 7:24-27

Evil in The Dark

I was 13 years old and walking home after wresting practice from the junior high.  It was a typical Oregon winter night in the valley.  The sun had gone down, leaving a brisk chill in the darkness.  I said goodbye to my friends and walked out into the night.  There was one streetlight in those days which cast a dim glow over the parking lot.  As I trudged around the few cars remaining, I turned right onto the road and began the trek home.  There was not, nor is there to this day, sidewalks along that particular stretch of road.  I walked  along the narrow shoulder , my feet shuffling in the gravel and I could hear the wind moving through the branches high above me in the evergreen trees.  The breeze tugged at my sweatshirt and I pulled the hood tight around my head.  The road led down a hill to a four way stop. Turning left led away from town into the country.  Turning right led to a long dark stretch of unlit road down past the bus garage and high school baseball field into town.  The road straight ahead was also unlit in those days but it was a much shorter journey to the lamp lit, sidewalk lined avenue I could see a few hundred feet in the distance. I made the decision and walked straight ahead, my chin lowered into my sweatshirt. As I moved through the darkness, my feet no longer shuffling in the gravel, but rather picking up their pace a bit, I could hear the sound of Ames Creek approaching before me. Fields stretched out to my right and left, the unmown grass making strange shapes and sounds as the wind blew though it.  The evergreens above me continued to sway to and fro in the dim moonlight, casting temporary shadows all around me.  As I approached the short bridge over the creek, my heart was pounding, my eyes wide as they searched the darkness which surrounded me.  And then I heard it, some small shuffling from beneath the bridge as I crossed to the other side. My ears strained  through the wind that blew across my hoodie, to identify what I was hearing.  I began to walk faster, towards the streetlights getting nearer.  All of my body wanted to look back, but I was terrified as to what I might see...Struggling to control the impulse to run, I began to reason with myself , "Its just the wind, its just the water or the branches, noting to be afraid of...".  And then I heard a noise in the ditch to my right...And  I ran!  My heart pounding, my eyes watering, I ran as only a 13 year old scared out of his mind can run.  I ran faster than I had ever ran in my life.  I hit the corner of Elm street and took the turn at full speed, my legs churning and my hood flapping behind me.  I ran a full block beneath the street lights now illuminating the pleasant tree lined avenue.  The warm lights spilling out of homes  caught the glow of my deathly white face as I flew past their living room windows.  Finally, I slowed down beneath a streetlight and gathered myself.  The wind still blowing, I mustered the courage to look back.  With my hands on my knees, my chest heaving, I looked back down the street towards the corner, and I could see, just beyond the light, hugging the darkness...nothing. 


Even to this day, I am always a bit concerned about what the darkness holds.  As a father, I have spent years putting to rest that same concern within my children.  " Daddy, leave the door open", " Daddy, could you leave the hall light on?"....Evenings too numerous to count spent teaching my children that Daddy will always strive to drive away the darkness...Whatever form that darkness may take.  And as the years have passed and my children have grown, that darkness has taken many differing forms.  And the light that must be shed is sometimes more difficult to cast than an open door, a brightly lit hallway.  Scripture tells us that people love to hide their evil in the darkness, away from the light ( John 3:19 ).  And nowhere is that more evident in the lives of people today than in the realm of social media.

Freed from the accountability of face to face interaction, people take to their phones and computers and say things that would have made our parents blush.  Angry at your parents?  Take to Facebook or twitter and tell the world how much you hate them.  Having a rough day at work? Using a limited number of characters, assassinate your bosses character.  Disappointed over a breakup? Spill the most innermost  hurts of your heart to 900 of your closest friends...In real time, tell everyone how you really feel!!...

But the latest social media phenomenon to spread amongst teenagers is the the actual definition of darkness.  On the website Ask.fm, you can log on and say whatever you want to others who belong to the site.  Here's how it works. You log onto the site and tell people they are free to ask you anything.  Some recent questions which I pulled from the site?.." Why are you such a slut?", " Why don't you kill yourself ?",  "How many people have you slept with?".  This is just a small sampling of the worst.  The great thing is you can say whatever you want because it's totally anonymous

To be true, many of the questions asked are perfectly harmless, but eventually, it seems that everyone is receives a hurtful question, a missile fired from the dark.  Safely hidden in anonymity, kids feel free to say words that wound, that hurt, that scar.  But even so, kids return en mass to the computer, their need to connect overwhelming their common sense as they invite everybody to  "Ask me anything "...

But more surprisingly than teenage kids lacking wisdom and opening themselves up to pain are the parents who turn a blind eye to the social media habits of their children. I have spoken to many parents who choose not to check on their childs social media. As their children return again and again to a place where deviants roam, where bullying is pervasive, far too many parents choose to remain, well, in the dark.  But the truth is, that as our children grow and change, so does the role we as parents must play.  Teaching our teenage children that words, whether stated or written, have power, and that we are all ultimately responsible for those words is not always met with the same gratitude as the hallway light.  But the evil that darkness hides in the perceived anonymity found on a computer or a phone has the power to cut us off from genuine relationships, destroy friendships and distort self worth...

As it turns out, evil exists, but not within our closets, beneath our beds or even on a darkened stretch of road, but within the darkness, where we refuse to shine the light.....


His eyes are on the ways of mortals;
    he sees their every step.
There is no deep shadow, no utter darkness,
    where evildoers can hide.-

Job 34:21-23

Woe to those who go to great depths
    to hide their plans from the Lord,
who do their work in darkness and think,
    “Who sees us? Who will know?” 

Isaiah 29:15