I took my elderly mother to the hospital yesterday. She needed some help with translating documents, etc. At registration, a nurse asked for her insurance card. She had forgotten her glasses so I fished through her wallet for her. That’s when I saw it. A photo of my brother and I … when we were 10 and 8 years old respectively. I chuckled and she gave me a half smile. It dawned on me that she’s been carrying our photos around for over two decades. What can I say? That’s a mother’s love.

I wonder how many times she’s looked at those pictures, soothed by the magic of nostalgia. When I was going through my teenage foolishness and she wanted to remember me in kinder times? Perhaps when she sat in her empty nest when both of us left for college? I’m almost positive she stared at our baby-fat rosy-cheeked faces when her boys got married. I’m sure to her, no matter how old we get, she sees us as those little boys in the photo in her wallet. Even if they are married with multiple children.

A parents’ love is so touching. So deep. So profound. It’s unexplainable. Donald Miller writes in To Own a Dragon, spouses learn to love each other but an instant love fills the heart of a new parent. It is a fitting imagery that God is to be called “Father” (Matthew 6:9) for he cannot help but to love his children. He could not leave us in our lostness so he sent His Son to rescue and redeem us into his family. I’m sure God’s wallet, if you will, is filled with many of our pictures.

But here’s the thing. I think his photos would not only be of our younger years. He would also have pictures of what we are going to become. An earthly parent can only reminisce, albeit fondly, of what we used to be. Our heavenly father can empower us by his Spirit to be what we can become. He is redeeming us to be people who look more like Jesus with each passing day. His wallet is not only filled with reflective photos of yesteryears but progressive ones of glory to come. My mother has the power of loving reflection. My Father above has the power of loving transformation. If we know this, we can be thankful for what God has done and hopeful for what He will do. He’s got a picture of it in his wallet.

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18)

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)

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Philippians 4 ²I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to agree with each other in the Lord. ³Yes, and I ask you, loyal yokefellow, help these women who have contended at my side in the cause of the gospel, along with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life.

Paul’s playing peacemaker here. Two hens in the church were pecking away at each other, if you will. I’m sure they were godly women but unfortunately their names are eternally noted in the Bible as squabblers to whom Paul says, “Ladies, squash it.” You know it’s gotten pretty bad because the apostle has to “plead” (v. 4) for their reconciliation in the Lord. He doesn’t order them though he could have as their spiritual leader. Rather, he humbles himself and appeals to their gospel compass which has long malfunctioned. More »

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I wrote down some memories of my time at CFC as I prepare to move to Chicagoland for this semester’s issue of cfcwrites (publication ministry of CFC). Be sure to check out the the full issue here.

Wiping the sweat off my face, I said to myself, “I live among a land of boxes.” That’s what the last couple of weeks have felt like. Combing over Craigslist for free empty boxes, bringing them home, filling them as fast as possible (but not so fast that I would break anything), my family and I have been trying to wrap up 11 years of our lives in Champaign-Urbana. How do you fit 11 years into a room full of boxes? Of course, you can’t but you can try. The thing about packing things away – once in a while, something in your hand triggers a memory and you’re taken to a place of reminiscing, regretting, repenting and/or rejoicing. More »

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It was one of those moments that define who mom and dad are. On a lazy Sunday afternoon, one of my boys snuggled up to my wife, stared into her face all doe-eyed and said, “Mommy, you smell like flowers.” This inspired me to ask, “What does Dad smell like?” “Daddy, you smell like… meat.” I walked away… to take a bath. My interpretation? “Dad, you are like a strong tree that guards the forest and Mommy is the flower that graces it.” A stretch? OK perhaps.

Like flowers, there is something delicate about moms. Some call it the “female touch” referring to that gentle nuance that a mom adds to a family. She has certainly  blunted the rough edges in my life. She’s smoothed  me out more than a little. But there is also something strong about moms too. Like roses with thorns, moms will protect their brood to the end. There is an internal maternal strength that dads can’t begin to understand. Remember guys, it’s your wife that gave birth, not you. More »

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Bob Cousy

Cousy had mentioned that he could see the lamp on the side table, the lamp positioned a good 30 to 40 degrees behind his left flank. He could see it, he said, while staring straight ahead at you. He had not mentioned this in any boastful context. He had merely been delineating matter-of-factly the skills that allowed him to rule the National Basketball Association through the ’50s and ’60s from his position in the backcourt of the Boston Celtics. Among those skills were his ability to see the narrow apertures in the defense and exploit them before they evanesced, and the uncanny knack for throwing those passes that led people to say that the Cooz had “eyes in the back of his head.” More »

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My wife read “The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein to my oldest daughter for the first time when she was five. The story is about a tree who keeps giving selflessly to the boy, hence the title. At the end of the story she peered over to my little girl who was crying. Tears flowed down her little cheeks at this beautiful story of a boy and a tree.

On this Good Friday, I keep thinking about our Giving God. Withholding nothing, pouring everything, He is the ultimate giver. And our eyes should fill with tears at his generous love.

Jesus gave us his truth. Jesus gave us his healing. Jesus gave us his service. Jesus gave us his tears. Jesus gave us his body. Jesus gave us Himself. More »

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Michael Card was the first Christian artist I was exposed to during my non-Christian HS years. A timid looking guy in my bio class gave me a tape to listen to as a way to evangelize to me. I think it was called “Present Reality”. Strangely enough I took it and listened to it on my Walkman (remember those) and I liked it. It grabbed me in a different way. The music was kind of interesting but it was the words that did it. They gripped me.

Here’s a song by Michael Card I’ve been thinking about during this Passion Week. Speaking about Judas he sings, “Why did he use a kiss to show them. That’s not what a kiss is for. Only a friend can betray a friend. A stranger has nothing to gain. And only a friend comes close enough to ever cause so much pain.” In John 13, Jesus does not skip Judas when washing the disciples’ feet. Jesus’ love is not wavered by Judas’ betrayal. But shockingly, Judas goes ahead with his betrayal even after seeing a display of such love and servanthood. Judas’ betrayal is not wavered by Jesus’ love. More »

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