The Joy of Being "That" Family

It wasn’t like we were stepping foot in a “Higgins” boat, preparing to storm the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. We weren’t boarding the ill-fated Titanic. We were, however, on the precipice of what could be an extremely frightening situation—boarding a plane with three kids under the age of five.

Eyeballs locked on us like we were terrorists as we first made our way down the undersized aisle. Ashley was carrying our three-month-old drooling baby (Owen), and we also had our four-year-old (Avery) and two-year-old (Sophie) in tow. I noticed that people began fervently praying as we approached. I initially thought we were carrying a strong anointing, but then I realized people were praying that they wouldn’t be stuck next to us.  One older gentleman even said, “Keep walking.” In that moment I realized we were “that” family.

We did keep walking—more like shuffling—as we made our way to aisles 25 and 26. Unfortunately, our seats were split between two separate rows (3 in row 25 and 1 in row 26). Ashley displayed heroic courage as she said, “You sit behind us, and I’ll sit here with the kids.” She planted herself in the middle seat, placed Owen on her lap, and instructed Sophie to sit on her left and Avery on her right. I watched from a safe distance as one person after the next walked by and did a double-take. I also witnessed others sitting near us, who apparently were stuck with the bad luck stick, each pull out their saucer-like- headphones. I guess they came prepared.


Ash doing her thing--without even looking.

I could have pulled out my own headphones and slipped into “nap-land”; However, better judgment prevailed as  I remembered I didn’t desire to sleep in the garage or live a life of married celibacy. I poked my head over the seat every few minutes, at first asking how I could help, and then just trying to catch a glimpse of greatness. I was in awe of watching Ashley navigate the situation. She looked like she had 8 arms as she changed diapers, pulled out snacks, gently stroked the side of Sophie’s face, picked up Owen’s pacifier after it had fallen for the hundredth time, and even found time to hand me some food through the cracks of the seats. What a gal.

There were moments when the kids teetered on the verge of a breakdown, but Ashley pulled hard on the yoke each time to prevent the spiraling nosedive.  People continued to stare, but I think she was slowly but surely winning the affection of those in the surrounding rows.

The flight was out of Washington D.C., so it was naturally filled with political lobbyists, aids, and others who maintained a frenzied pace in life.  Many appeared to be single and ambitious—which meant they had extra large headphones. They were people who understood “juggling”, but their juggling was designed to achieve career and political goals, not prevent child tantrums. When they weren’t staring at us, they were staring at their computer screens trying to beat some approaching deadline.  It reminded me of something Walt Harrington had written:

“I worked in Washington, D.C., for fifteen years. It’s a city that has arrived where the rest of America wants to go. It had the highest average household income in the country, the highest proportion of male and female professional workers, the highest percentage of people with college degrees. Yet it’s a city where people don’t have friends—they have associates. It’s a city of frenzy, with working husbands and wives racing to day care before the dollar-a-minute late charge kicks in at 6 p.m. It’s a city that honors work and achievement over all else, where people live for future ambitions without relishing present accomplishments. It’s a city where people seem incapable of living in the moment. It is a city without memory. And Washington is America’s future.”

While this isn’t true of everyone who calls D.C. home, it’s still a scary picture. I looked around the plane and saw the flame of ambition burning brightly. As I watched people momentarily pause from their work in order to watch my family, I wondered if they had any desire to have kids of their own. Were these up-and-comers in the political and corporate world wrongly praying that God would spare them from the sheer terror of having kids and becoming “that family?” Perhaps they’ve sat on too many planes with crying children, and they’ve shopped in too many grocery stores filled with red-faced-open-mouthed-screaming-kids.  They think they know better.

I admit that having young children will try you at the depth of your soul.  My kids have been the red-faced-open-mouthed-screaming-kids on more than one occasion. Just recently, they were all three screaming in unison. It sounded like a bad Dwight Yoakum song, and I wished I could have pulled out my own satellite-dish- sized-headphones. The challenge of raising kids is easy to see—and hear. Anytime kids have a meltdown, eyeballs are naturally attracted to the unfolding scene. People seem to enjoy watching kids meltdown, as long as those kids don’t share their last name and are not sitting next to them on the plane.

What’s harder to see for onlookers is the joy of being “that” family. It’s the joy of having your young daughter wrap her little arms around your neck and give you a kiss on the cheek. It’s the joy of watching a two-year-old trying to learn how to wink.  It’s the joy of seeing a three-month-old baby light up the room with a smile.  It’s the joy of seeing a 30-year-old pretty little blonde gal wink at me through the seats. It’s the joy that results from doing life together as family.

It’s certainly messy and challenging, and at times embarrassing, but it’s beautiful. I can’t think of a better way to spend my life. I can’t think of a better legacy to leave. 

The stares became less frequent as the flight went on, but I started to notice a different stare. It was the gaze of a four-year-old named Avery, with big blue eyes looking out upon a big blue sky. She said, “Wow. That’s a big world out there.”

Yes, it is Avery.

But it’s a lot more beautiful because of children like you.

Deep Water Book Intro

I've been in the process of writing a book for quite some time. It's been a difficult journey, not just because writing a book is hard, but because God isn't interested in watching me pass on rote information. As I've worked on the book, He's worked on my heart. I thought the book would  exclusively be for the benefit of others, but I was very wrong. I now see how much it was meant to be a fresh invitation for me.  I'm almost done with the project, and I've had several people ask what the book is about. I thought it would be easier to provide the introduction for the book so you get the idea. I'm sharing this on the blog, because you have been the readers that have encouraged me to press on with this writing thing...So, thank you.

--The name of the book is: DEEP WATERS


I’ve been dreaming about this moment for a long time. I’m standing on the shore of the Pacific, looking out upon the endless miles of expansive ocean. The sound of the waves brings a smile so large that it rivals the stretch of the horizon. I take my first step into the frigid waters and every cell in my body is called to attention. I didn’t expect the water to be this cold, but the adventure that calls is worth the temporary feelings of discomfort.

The ocean floor is a gradual slope leading to a steep drop off several hundred yards off shore. That’s where I’m headed, but the sting of the cold water only intensifies as I venture deeper. I glance back at the beach to see several people gathered. They’re not carrying boards; they just came to watch. They seem to be comfortable, smiling, carrying on in conversation as they watch thrill seekers chase waves.

As a young boy growing up in the land-locked state of Kansas, I could only dream of what it would be like to ride upon the power of the ocean, to surf. The only waves in Kansas are waves of golden brown wheat oscillating in the wind. Today my opportunity has finally arrived.

Less than twelve months ago, I compiled a list of ten desires that I want to see fulfilled this year. Near the top of my list was surfing. I prayed a simple prayer and asked God if He would provide the opportunity. I had all but forgotten about this prayer when my brother called a few months later to extend an invitation to join him on a surfing weekend near Monterrey, Ca.

Excitement filled my soul as I realized my prayer was being answered. I booked my plane ticket, followed by a quick internet search of prime surfing locations near Monterrey. I wanted to see the waves for myself, so I typed in surfing near Monterrey on You Tube. The first video that appeared was from a local news station, and the story was about a man who had just been attacked by a shark in the very waters we would be surfing.

That story is replaying in my mind as I sit on the board with my legs dangling into the murky ocean. I am now in fairly deep water, and I can’t see anything that may be swimming around me. My imagination is kind enough to start playing the JAWS theme song. The chattering of my teeth reminds me I’m still cold. Perhaps the spectators gathered on the beach were the smart ones. I force my attention back on the waves and remind myself why I’ve come. After several minutes of letting smaller waves pass beneath my board, I decide to go deeper. I’m paddling through thick sea weed, but the allure of the larger waves beckon me to keep going.

Now I’m in the ideal spot. I turn my board around and look over my shoulder, waiting for the power of the ocean to sweep me up, and with a smile on my face and hair blowing in the wind, gloriously usher me to shore while the gallery of spectators cheer me on.

I see my wave and start paddling. I let out an excited holler as I feel the initial surge, and I try to pop up on my board, but I quickly lose my balance and smack my face hard against the water. Not exactly what I had in mind.  I can picture the gallery laughing. Perhaps that’s why they sit on the beach—they want to see others wipe out.  It’s ok, though, because I’m in deep water. This is where adventure happens.

--

For years, I was a spectator on the beach. I watched others live with great faith and follow Christ into deeper spiritual waters, but I was comfortable in about knee-deep water. This was just enough to make me feel like I was a Christian, but I still maintained complete control. Anytime God beckoned me to go deeper, the sting of discomfort and the fear of the unknown re-focused my attention back to shore and the pleasant activities I enjoyed.

All this time on the beach was creating a sort of sunburn—I was having fun in the moment, but I didn’t realize I would experience the pain of the burn later. In order to create my own entertainment, I started living a lifestyle that wasn’t congruent with what God wanted. This provided momentary bliss as I forgot about the dull ache in my soul, but I couldn’t run forever. I finally hit my knees on a cold, January night and came face to face with the reality of my life. I surrendered to Jesus. I told Him that I can’t live this way anymore. The days of calling myself a Christ follower but rejecting the reach of His hand were over. Take me deeper, Jesus was my simple prayer.

God surely answered that prayer, and it’s been quite a journey. I had no idea what I was missing out on, the richness of life and the abundance of joy and peace that are available through a deeper relationship with God. This book was birthed out of a simple desire to help others discover the same. Whether you’re still not sure about the idea of faith, or if you’ve been walking with Christ for decades, the call is still the same: come deeper.

My prayer is that you don’t read this book like you would a recipe book, looking to be told exactly what to do in order to create a deeper relationship with God. Your walk with Christ was never intended to be a cookie-cutter journey that looks exactly like someone else’s. God is far too mysterious for that kind of simplicity. But, there are some overarching ideas that are true about your journey as well as mine.

First, we’re invited to know Jesus intimately. We are not called to simply know about Him, but He wants us to know Him. This is actually possible. He wants us to learn to recognize what He’s doing in our lives on a daily basis, to learn to hear His voice, and to possess a radical obedience as we set our sights on following Him. This is the focus of the opening section of the book.

As we follow, He’ll surely lead us into the deep water of the Father’s heart, which is the focus of the second section. Jesus always has been and always will be passionate about revealing the Heavenly Father. He wants you to experience the same love He experienced. This love originates in the heart of the Father, and Jesus wants to take you there. We’ll discover a matchless level of love that can’t be adequately translated into words—we’re just left to experience it. We’ll find a generosity and level of kindness that draw us even closer to God. We’ll discover more and more of the wonder and privilege of being called sons and daughters of this perfect Father.

As the great Scottish writer George MacDonald stated, “Because we are sons of God, we must become sons of God.” The third section probes how Jesus leads us into the deep water of our own hearts. This journey is designed to lead to a greater revelation of our identity. He’ll help us align our lives to reflect the truth of what we carry in our redeemed hearts. After all, we’ve been created to bear the image of a Glorious God, and we most glorify Him when we live from the heart.

Lastly, the fourth section will explore how Jesus guides us into the deep and living waters of the Spirit. He wants us to drink from the only fountainhead that can truly satisfy—the Spirit of God. He wants to see us become people marked by His distinguishing presence and living lives of power and purpose.  

This is the heritage for the people daring enough to push off from shore and follow Him into the deep.

Won’t you come along?