Why should anyone ever have kids?!

Someone asked me the other day why anyone should have kids…especially since it can be so difficult, painful, and challenging.

They asked me this question on a particularly difficult day as a father. Ten different kinds of off-spring related disasters happened. We have five…almost six children (yes…we’re crazy…and any other adjective you can think of to describe us), and on this particular day my wife and I had just had enough. It doesn’t matter how much of a genius you may be at parenting (and trust me…while I may be an expert and MAKING children, I have miles to go in cultivating them), sometimes everything just falls apart.

Disrespect, disobedience, cranky attitudes, spills, messes, injuries…and a litany of questions numbering somewhere between a mountain and incessant.

This was a Murphey’s Law day from start to finish. And I had just had it. Finally, I just said, “What the heck is wrong with our kids?!”

It prompted me to post this on Twitter and Facebook:

“Real talk: parenthood just might be the most painfully challenging job on the planet. It can only be by grace any of us make it.”

It got lots of reaction, mostly from parents who identified with the statement, but then someone asked me on Twitter: “Can you explain why someone would want to get into that?” That’s like asking someone who just had six teeth pulled without pain meds what they think of a dentist.

Fortunately, before I answered, I paused. Of course I love my children. They’re each so unique, passionate, creative, and thrilled with so many simplicities I became numb to years ago. My frustration mostly comes from the expectation that they already understand all the things I want them to…and their frustration comes because they don’t

They’re broken…just like me.

Still discovering…

Still exploring…

Still embracing wonder…

Obviously each family has to develop its specific culture, but it’s so easy to mistake pure curiosity with a breach of Chambers family culture. My friend Paul shared a quote with me…neither of us could ever figure out where it came from…but it goes like this:

“Grace isn’t a tightrope, it’s an open field where you run until you find the fences.”

When I finally got around to answering the “Why should ANYONE ever have kids?!” question, several things occurred to me. I can’t experience grace, hope, love, or joy unless their opposites also exist. I know what love is because I have also been hated. I know what healing is because I’ve been hurt. I know what grace is because I’m a sinner.

Parenthood is a gift because we have 24/7 miniature reminders to constantly pour out our very best. We don’t always pour out our best (in fact, sometimes I’m haunted with the idea that the reason my kids may react a certain way is because they learned it from me), but again…that’s why grace exists.

For us…and for them.

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Do have children? What is a lesson you’ve learned along the journey?

The day I broke the bank

There are many trends from the 1980s that we love and hate.

Leg warmers…Schoolhouse Rock…teased hair…Smurfs…slap bracelets…Jelly shoes…Atari…Trapper Keepers…Cabbage Patch Kids…Teddy Ruxpin…(may the awkward memories wash over you like a flood).

But before I learned how to overuse the word “psyche!” (for you youngsters, today’s equivalent of “psyche” would be “bro”), and somewhere around the age of four, my parents kept approximately a million pennies in a clear-glass Snoopy shaped bank. (It may only have been a hundred pennies…don’t judge me, it’s a memory from when I was four.)

One morning while my mother was occupied with her PBS aerobics workout, I concocted a plan to make some of those pennies mine.

I found my dad’s hammer and went to work.

For any four-year-olds reading this and wanting to learn from my mistakes, the one regret I have is that I forgot how loud glass was when it shattered.

My mother sprinted into the dining room and immediately went into rescue mode.

Then, she noticed something…

“What’s in your hand?” She knelt down next to me.

I just stared at her and clenched my little fist shut as tightly as I could.

“Show mommy what’s in your hand.”

I don’t remember exactly, but I think at that point I said something brilliant, like, “There’s nothing in my hand…I just want to keep it closed.”

She took my arm and slowly peeled back my fingers…and there it was. Blood. I was cut. I was hurt. And I didn’t want anyone to know.

Fortunately, all it took to repair me was a quick trip to the pediatrician, a Scooby-Doo bandaid and a lollipop.

But…

What strikes me as I think back on this is how young we are when we discover how to hide our hurts.

My fear was that I would get into more trouble if my mom found out. I associated my lingering hurt with the consequences of breaking the bank.

Instead, my mom picked me up out of the huge mess I had made and carried me to the place where I could get help and healing.

Today…all over this world…are people sitting in the middle of messes with clenched fists. Hoping no one (especially God) asks them to open their hands and show their cuts.

Reality is, the mess can’t be cleaned up as long as we’re still in it, and our hurts can’t be healed if no one knows about them. Hiding only makes it worse. Time doesn’t necessarily heal all wounds…especially the ones we won’t let go of.

Jesus came for the broken. He came for the sick. The stained. The mess-makers.

Maybe you’re one of those people.

Maybe you know one of those people.

Either way, it’s time for rescue to begin.

There isn’t more punishment waiting for you as a result of your hurts…but there is hope.

And hope starts with opening your hand.

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The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, for the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed. // Isaiah 61

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If you’re struggling with hurt today…please email me…I’d love to encourage you!

Why did Jesus hang out with a Terrorist?

A while back, President Obama was accused of being friends with a terrorist, but did you know that Jesus asked one to be a disciple?

A man named Simon. A Zealot.

You may not know much about the Zealots, but they were a group of people who were part of an insurgency to overthrow the Roman occupation of Judea during and after the days of Jesus.

(They actually succeeded for a short time around 66AD).

They hated the Romans and traitors, and if you wanted to live it was best you weren’t associated with either group.

They were assassins. They were some of the earliest known terrorists.

And Jesus chose a terrorist as a disciple?

As part of the select group that was supposed to change the world?

How could he?

Why would he?

He also chose a traitor: Matthew the Tax Collector (my namesake…thanks mom and dad!)

If you’re keeping score at home, this means that among Christ’s original posse of 12, we have a terrorist and a traitor (vehement political enemies), a betrayer and several school flunkies.

Fantastic.

So what’s my point?

My point is this: if Jesus hadn’t done things the way He did them, you wouldn’t be reading this right now. The whole reason we have a Savior to entrust our very lives to is because Jesus did things differently.

The people were looking for a King to replace Herod…but Jesus is born in a manger and announces His birth to some shepherds (who probably gave up drinking for good after that night). And if you think the serenading angels simply appeared to the wrong people, keep in mind a group of astrologers figured out who Jesus was way before the official people of God.

The people wanted a political leader, Jesus laid down His life instead.

Mere moments before He was raised up on the cross, Jesus reveals to Pilate, “My Kingdom is not of this world.”

No one saw it coming. Everyone’s expectations and predictions were completely off.

Jesus came to set up a Kingdom where Simon’s ability to inflict terror was no longer needed, but his passion for a life-altering message was.

A Kingdom where guys who failed school could preach the story of redemption that still carries on from generation to generation.

A Kingdom where even a traitor and a betrayer were invited into community.

A Kingdom where haters, liars, cheaters, murderers, doubters, racists, whores, Capitalists, Socialists, thieves, gossips, perverts, poor, starving, alcoholics, users, cutters, and every type of people are told: “Come as you are…”

He came for the broken.

He came for me.

He came for you.

And when you and I become part of His Kingdom, the call on our lives is this:

“Go and do the same.”

When’s the last time you spent any significant amount of time with any of the kinds of people listed above? Truth is, you probably interact with them every day, but the trick is learning how to see them…and see them as Jesus does.

We need to stop filtering our faith by the kingdoms of this world. Why do we get so caught up in the temporal? While financial markets crash, nations are plunged into rioting, famine wiping out tens of thousands of precious lives, and governments are left floundering for answers, we are part of a Kingdom that will never crumble.

This is our hope. This is our message.

I’m convinced that if we all lived out this reality, things would begin to look drastically different.

Following Jesus is about more than having better vision. It’s about having new eyes.

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By the way – an amazing song that goes along with what I’ve talked about today is “Hookers and Robbers” by my dear friends the Charlie Hall band…

Click the image below for a link to download the song…do it!

Finding a cure and forgetting to care

**This was supposed to be part 2 of a 2 part series. But…I think I’ll keep fleshing some of these things out. I’d love to keep the dialogue going. Many of you have emailed and commented, so let’s keep it rolling.**

“How do we do good in Africa?”

I wasn’t ready for the question. I stopped stirring my tea and looked across the cafe table.

The man on the other side was Dr. Bruce Baker, professor of African Security at Coventry University.

He adjusted the collar of his tweed coat and continued, “I’ve been studying this for 30 years, and I’m still not quite sure. I have some theories, but I’m not convinced the best thing for Africa is more Western influence. That doesn’t mean we stop trying, it simply means we stop forcing.”

As the sun began to set behind the cathedral ruins leftover from WWII, Dr. Baker looked at me and said, “Don’t be afraid. You’re going to be fine. Just take care of people and you’ll do just fine.”

The train ride back to London was very quiet for me.

It seemed simple enough…“just take care of people.”

I could do that.

After all, isn’t the call to care and community a huge part of following Jesus?

Loving your enemies…bearing burdens…forgiveness…grace…the poor, weak, sick, abandoned, lonely, orphaned…

It’s all there – no loopholes. At least not on paper. The loopholes only appear when we begin taking what’s on paper and transfer it into real life.

There we see the loopholes of personal preference…pet peeves…style…tradition…methodology…theology…

People don’t think you’re making the gospel clear enough. People don’t think you’re helping with physical needs enough.

But as I’ve studied and wrestled and poured myself into the question of “how exactly do we do this?”, I keep coming back to one thought over and over:

Our primary job isn’t to keep people out of hell, it’s to carry the broken to Jesus.

The challenge is that when we see the word “broken”, each of us already has a definition in our minds of who that is. And furthermore, all of the definitions we think of are correct.

Darkness isn’t darker for for certain people. And the hope of the Cross doesn’t come with more perks for some than for others.

Our ability to understand those things doesn’t change them. The point is – what do we do about it?

The temptation for me is to be cure focused. To fix it. As if the goal is all about solutions.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about finding great solutions to glaring issues. Especially with 1.3 billion people without proper water and sanitation, millions of mothers and infants dying as a result of poor maternal healthcare…genocide, racism, abject poverty, orphan care…these are heart-wrenching realities we must be engaged in.

When it comes to the needs of people, finding a cure does little good when not accompanied by care. Cure might be the end, but care is the journey.

I suck at math. But sometimes I would luck out and end up with the right answer after working the problem wrong. Deep down I always hoped whoever checked my paper would simply be satisfied that I arrived at the right conclusion, and not harp on the fact that I didn’t do the work.

A lot of getting the work right comes back to listening. Valuing people who know more than you. Spending time with people who may see things differently than you.

I promise you will never look back and wish you hadn’t. Because we are also the broken. We are also the ones who need Jesus.

Our work lasts (for better or worse). Let’s do it well. Let’s do stuff people would miss if we stopped.

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Would love your thoughts.

How do you think we can find cures while not neglecting the call to care?