So today is our 10th wedding anniversary

 

The moments of our wedding day seem so far away now. 

How young we were…felt…acted…

All the names of faces of our family and friends who gathered to celebrate…

Who cried the most…

How our wedding photos were a disaster…

The fact that we didn’t even get to eat anything at our reception…

How we didn’t even care…because we were married! (Although I’m pretty sure we had NO idea what that meant at the time.)

—–

Even further away are the earlier chapters of our story.

Meeting each other when we were 10 and 11 after an Easter Play…

Becoming best (if not at times, awkward) friends…

Trying to date for two weeks and then crashing and burning…

The time she told me she would never marry me…(because I was an idiot)

The time she told me she’d love to marry me…(because I finally stopped being an idiot)

—–

But right in front of us at all times are the chapters of our story right now.

Six children (ranging from 9 to 2-weeks old)

Laying in bed with someone every night who hates the status quo as much as I do…

Navigating some of the darkest days of marriage…and coming through stronger…

Struggles…doubts…hopes…

Gripping each other’s hands tightly as we walked down the hospital hallway after sending our special-needs son to brain surgery…

The secret plans…quiet joys…maddening moments…knowing looks…

And amidst the always higher piles of laundry, toy-littered rooms, and seemingly surmountable daily family needs…there she is…here we are…together.

—–

It’s funny…we don’t even have anything planned for today. Not a special dinner or sexy getaway (we do have a 2-week-old after all)…we’ll have to save some extra time for later.

Today we’ll just live life.

It’ll probably be crazy, silly and a bit messy.

So I’ll probably make reservations for two on our back porch tonight. For margaritas by firelight.

Because sometimes when things are a bit more complicated than usual, it’s better to aim for simple.

And if I’ve learned anything in ten years, it’s that what I want more than anything…is simply her.

Happy anniversary, Jordana…I’m so grateful that you’re my lady and I’m your guy.

—–

You have captivated my heart, my sister, my bride;
    you have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes // Song of Solomon 4.9

 

The worst question for relationships…

As much as I enjoy writing longer posts expounding on family, life, faith and struggle…today I simply want to share a thought I’ve been mulling over to see what you think.

I’m working on a pretty gigantic project behind the scenes right now (we’ll have some teasers up soon…including the photo project many of you are helping with). As a result of the way we’re developing this, one of the questions we know some people will ask when it launches is:

“What’s in it for me?”

Such a common question…and such a dangerous one.

If I purchase stock in a company, even if it’s small and doesn’t pay dividends at the beginning, at some point I’d like to see a return on my investment. But…if I treat relationships the same way, there’s a danger that I’ll only invest as much of myself as I know I can get back. I believe approaching people with the attitude of “what’s in it for me” so often distorts, stunts and can even destroy.

When your wife isn’t in a sexy mood…”But I did the dishes, vacuumed, AND folded laundry for you today!”

When your husband doesn’t exude all the leadership qualities you desire, “But I did the sexy with you last night!”

When your kids go into meltdown mode, “But look at all this stuff I got you!”

This also works for girlfriends…boyfriends…parents…bosses…coworkers…pretty much any PEOPLE we interact with.

So…here’s the thought:

When you’re tempted to ask, “What’s in it for me?!” … remind yourself of this answer: YOU ARE. You are what’s in it for you. Not in a selfish way…in a generous way. You’re wherever you are to give yourself away.

Generosity is contagious, and changing the culture your relationships begins with you.

—–

Have you experienced the reality of this in your relationships?

—–

“If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.“ // Luke 6.32-36

We’re pregnant?!

“Congratulations!” The young physician practically vomited her excitement all over our stunned faces, “How long have you been trying?”

Trying? We just thought we were practicing!

Barely 60 days into our marriage, and there we sat.

Hearts pounding.

Apparently peeing on multiple sticks doesn’t reverse the results. (Who knew?)

Things were not going according to plan.

Which plan, you ask?

The Five Year Plan™, of course. You know, the one where after arriving home from your honeymoon, a transporter takes you to a magical land where all fighting, fertility, and general life troubles are placed in a holding pattern. That way you and your mind-alteringly hot spouse can begin marriage without the peskiness of real life getting in the way. (That’s the way it’s supposed to work, right?)

We left the doctor’s office and went back to our apartment to mull things over.

I don’t remember it taking very long for us to initially come to grips with our new reality, but the truth is, we weren’t even close to being ready for what came next.

Within just a few week’s time, Jordana was deathly sick, I had been laid off from my job and shortly after she was hospitalized and diagnosed with a serious disorder related to pregnancy called Hyperemesis Gravidarium.

Ever walk through those seasons of life where everything starts getting dark very quickly? Even as I type this, I can still feel all the angst and fear leftover from memory.

There I was, the young husband, anxious to prove myself but left helpless.

There she was, the hopeful bride, ready to launch into a new life and suddenly all the post-it notes of dreams she’d been leaving around the rooms of her heart were stripped down.

Was this a joke?

Were we pawns in some sort of cosmic chess match?

A thought from C.S. Lewis I continually call to mind is, “We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”

The truth is, our every day theology simply cannot fly in the face of our most difficult days or our most glorious days. What we think we know about why things happen (or don’t happen) a certain way will undoubtedly go through times of ebb and flow. This is part of the epic battle between our humanity and our spirituality.

In scripture, notice David wasn’t called “a man after God’s own information”, he was called “a man after God’s own heart.” There is something much deeper going on in us than simply knowing…

God has called us to a place of being.

Knowing and being were never meant to be a replacement for one another, but rather a compliment.

Frequently I find myself knowing many of the “right answers” about situations, but still end up attempting to complete the mission on my own.

If you’ve ever done the same thing, you know that never ends well.

God beckons us to a place of refuge. But knowing about a place of refuge is not where we find safety…we have to actually go there…be there.

Miraculously, nine months later, our firstborn son, Tobin, was born. We chose that name primarily because it means “God is good.” Realistically, that wasn’t something that was always easy for us to embrace, believe or see, but in the end we experienced its truth.

Much of what we knew had been (and still is being) tweaked and pruned. When the doctor announced we were pregnant, she may as well have said, “Congratulations! God is about to wreak seventeen kinds of havoc on everything you had planned…”

Reality is, most of the times my plans stink, and it takes something drastic to convince me. And maybe it’s not the convincing about the subpar nature of my own plans that’s so difficult, but rather the process of embracing the ones God has for me instead.

Maybe you’ve been where we were. Maybe you’re there now. Maybe you’re awaiting the “painful best” as Lewis would say.

But please hear this from me…from someone who is still stumbling forward along the road of grace: accept God’s invitation for you to come and BE. Don’t fight it.

Cling. Trust. Be. Rest.

—————–

More coming on this Friday…

Does this resonate with you?

My wife told me she would never marry me…

My wife and I were childhood best friends. When we met, I was eleven and she was ten.

I believe around the age of thirteen, I was given tenure in a special place that Ryan Reynolds coined in the film “Just Friends”: The Friend Zone.

It’s basically relational purgatory. A place of limbo where “BFF” has been tattooed on everything you do, and even Calvinists and Arminians will agree that it’s the one area that predestination cannot be usurped by free-will. You’re stuck.

That continued through high school, while we dated other people, and even when I went off to college and she studied in England and Brazil.

Finally, around the age of 19, something magical happened. Well, I’m not sure it was actually magical as much as, “Hey, so, we’ve been friends for a long time…wanna try to date?”

The stomach muscles of the universe tightened. The eye of Sauron blinked.

Then, just two weeks after taking the plunge, we had…the talk. I don’t remember a most of what she said, but one line still sticks out to this day:

“I will never marry you.”

It was the third time in my life I had been dumped. The first was once on my birthday, the second was by the girl who only liked to hug (a post for another day…but seriously, what’s that about?!), and the third was by the girl who I had always turned to when things were difficult. Now, she was the one doing the dumping.

I blamed so many things after that happened. Excuses are cheap and easy when you don’t want to face the truth.

So, why did my wife say she would never marry me?

Because I wanted everyone to think I was awesome, and she simply needed a man to love her and hold her heart.

I was clueless.

I thought she was rejecting me because I wasn’t successful enough or good looking enough. But she wasn’t rejecting me…she was rejecting who she was to me.

I took her availability for granted.

I saw her as a “ride-along”.

I had figured that even if we didn’t have the same life plan at the beginning…she’d eventually come around.

It’s easy to chalk my attitude up to chauvinistic ideals, but really I think we do this all the time (both males and females). It doesn’t take away from the fact that I was (and at times, still am) a selfish jerk, but the reality is: we are broken…and broken things never work the way they were meant to.

And in my brokenness I had become an expert at protecting myself.

Relationships, especially those with the trajectory of marriage and intimacy carry a potency that must be handled carefully. Colliding the worlds of two people is a powerful process, that if we’re not careful, can end up looking more like a pinball machine than two becoming one.

That conversation took place 12 years ago. My wife, Jordana, and I will celebrate ten years of marriage next May. I wish I could tell you that in between the time she told me she would never marry me and the moment we said, “I do”, God was able to empty out all my internal junk drawers. That’s not the case.

Instead, I believe Jordana has become a constant reminder that she is a vital part of me becoming who I need to be…and I am vital to her.

I am slowly learning to love her and hold her heart.

We are each other’s first community. This has become especially true as we walk through painful moments with a special needs child, and several near-death sicknesses related to pregnancy.

Our world doesn’t need more bubble gum relationships that get thrown out when the flavor goes away. We need relationships that are protected like the treasures they are.

Do the people in your community know their worth to you?

Does your husband?

Wife?

Child?

I’m positive that all of us could stand to spend more time communicating these things to each other.

It’s Monday. Let’s start the week by making sure they know.

Saying “my smokin’ hot wife” is SO typical

Don’t be typical.

Well that sounds simple enough. Problem solved, right? Fantastic. See you guys tomorrow.

No.

Fighting off the demons of typical is one of the most challenging life-hurdles any of us will ever face.

Why?

Because our societies/churches/businesses/schools work very hard to teach us how to live normally. To not rock the boat. To be a good citizen.

What actually ends up happening is some twisted version of the film, Pleasantville, where everything looked great on the outside, but was complete turmoil underneath.

If I had a dime for every time I heard guys in ministry publicly announce they have a “smokin’ hot wife”, I’d be independently wealthy. (By the way…personal preference…can we PLEASE let that meme die? Anyone?)

If I had a penny for every couple that pretended everything was ok when it really wasn’t, I’d be even wealthier.

Pretending is part of being typical.

I spoke to a group of people yesterday about my work and organization, and when I was finished a man came up and told me: “I’ve never seen a 30 year old with as much drive as you have.”

At first I was tempted to give myself a Ron Burgundy-style leaping high-five, but then it hit me: I thought I was running behind…do people really wait until later to become driven?

Is it really a rule that we must wait until it feels like we’re running out of time to finally be who we were called to be? To finally fight for that job? Take that trip? Be a great spouse? Have kids? (I’ll be doing a whole post on kids sometime…)

In Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, there are a group of religious folk who look down on the character, Miss Maudie, for working so hard on her garden…to which she responds: “There are just some kind of men who – who’re so busy worrying about the next world they’ve never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the results.”

The cross of Christ isn’t freedom to be average. If we really believe in the bigness of our God, then we should all be practitioners of the impossible, not enablers of the typical.

By the way, I’m preaching to the choir…these words are as much for me as anyone else.

Have you wronged someone and need to make it right? Call them! Don’t leave it hanging over you or them any longer.

Bring your spouse and kids into the living room for a mandatory family meeting and have a dance party instead. Don’t have a family yet? Call up a bunch of friends!

When was the last time you organized a day of romance for your husband…wife…boyfriend…girlfriend?

When was the last time you did something out of your routine?

When was the last time you actually gave air-time to your dreams?

When was the last time you went downtown and hung out with some street-walkers and asked them about their lives?

Jesus came to give us LIFE! Real life…abundant life…not typical life or pretend life.

When you start to feel the weight of all that must be done, remember your strength is limited but your Creator’s is not.

Don’t be afraid…because that’s typical.