Hurry up and slow down

I have a confession to make: I am terrible at waiting. If patience is a virtue, then well, I ain't got much virtue. Truth be told, this is nothing new. Patience and waiting on events and schedules to happen has always been a sore spot for me.

Almost every Christmas Eve growing up, I was the kid perched at the top of the stairs starting at 3:00 a.m. anxiously counting the minutes until the sun would begin to poke its head on the horizon so that I could finally get a glimpse of the glorious presents that awaited me. I eat the cookie dough before it goes on the baking sheet. I'm sure you do too, but I eat A LOT of it before it can be baked. I was the senior in high school that got on the phone with Wake Forest University to find out if I had been accepted because I simply couldn't wait for that letter any longer. Thankfully, they said yes.

So as I recover from my heart surgery at home, you can imagine this is not the easiest of scenarios for someone like me to play out. My doctors have told me that I cannot drive for four weeks post surgery, I am not allowed to lift anything over ten pounds, and I must rest as much a possible. Now I love sleep as much as the next guy, but I also believe there is a thing as too much rest. Yet these are the doctors orders, from the ones who basically recreated my heart as if it was a ball of clay on a potter's wheel.

My days have been filled with cardiac rehab (treadmill, stretching, and yes, rest), reading lots of books, eating like a destitute goat so that I can put weight back on, spending some amazing time with my family, and coordinating class work with the many substitute teachers that my school has lined up to take over in my absence. All of these things are good and necessary. This isn't my first rodeo – I remember having to do all of these things twenty-four years ago when I had my first heart surgery. But things are different now and this is where my struggle begins.

When I had my first heart surgery in 1996, I was single, in grad school, and was able to recover at home with my parents, who to this day are still saints for putting up with me. This time around I have a wife and kids, a career, and many more obligations that require much more immediate attention. My life is different – better – and to have to sit on the sidelines like that kid who made the team but you know coach has no intention of playing is frustrating.

I know that may seem a little over dramatized, so let me step back a little bit. In the midst of what seems like useless time wasting, I understand why the waiting is so important even though I despise it. The body takes time to heal. Getting back into the game too early can be detrimental to experiencing a fully recovery. And the fact that I am even alive to be able to type this graphically illustrates that I serve a God who has allowed me to stay on this planet for reasons I may not yet even fully realize.

So hurry up and wait is what I will do. After all, I did have pretty major heart surgery. Nobody expects me to take the field right away. And while I wait, I will do my best to enjoy each and every moment that comes my way. Wishing I was here or there and doing this or that only serves to cloud my vision for what's right in front of me. And that is what God wants me to see. Not the things that I want to conjure up for myself but rather the everyday, even mundane, things that He has placed in my path.

Thank you for your service

Costco Wholesale Warehouse is an absolute gold mine around lunch time. Vendors set up 
tables all over the mammoth store, hawking all sorts of samples ranging from vitamin juice 
shots to mini crab cakes. I used to make sure that I would go there with the kids so that we 
would have at least one day when we didn’t have to meal plan.

    
I don’t shop there all the time because we simply can’t afford to. Not that the prices are bad, 
it’s just that I don’t know when to stop. Instead, I will go every month or so to stock up on bulk 
supplies of juice boxes, salsa, pizza rolls, peanut butter, and whatever items I am convinced 
that my family cannot live without. 

     
Perhaps the biggest, if only, drawback to Costco is that it is always crowded. Every aisle is 
clogged with shoppers pushing oversized carts full of their choice of essential goods and, 
while no one is necessarily rude about the rules of the road, it can get pretty dicey navigating 
tight corners and attempting to cross from the snacks to the pasta section. 

    
Whenever I encounter an aisle that’s a little too congested for my comfort, I will backtrack and 
take an alternative route, as if I have some secret shortcut that no one else knows about. Not 
long ago when I was shopping for the next few week’s worth of supplies, as I wheeled my cart 
filled with a 120-count box of granola bars and enough gummy bears to choke a small elephant, 
I encountered a roadblock that had me quickly throwing it into reverse into a detour down the 
next aisle. It contained socks and men’s off brand running shoes, so it was a much safer 
passage.

     
Rounding the corner that would allow me to bypass this latest obstruction, I paused for a 
moment to take in exactly who it was that had caused this latest inconvenience. There in the 
middle of the adjacent aisle was an older gentleman, possibly in his 80’s, hunched slightly at 
the waist and using his shopping cart as a walker. He was traveling at the speed of slow, which 
for him was just fine because he was in absolutely no hurry at all. 

     
On his head he wore a baseball cap, one of those military hats that veterans of wars and armed 
conflicts wear with obvious pride. The insignia on the front told me that he had served in the 
Korean War. My grandfather operated the radio on a B25 bomber during World War 2 in the 
Pacific theater and I knew all about those islands he flew over and the enemy he fought.

I have read books about Guadalcanal and Bougainville and other exotic sounding places where 
our American GI’s fought tooth and nail against the Japanese for what amount to nothing more 
than isolated plots of land made mostly of coral. On these islands we began to win the war 
against Japan, keeping them from overtaking Australia and the rest of the Pacific region. My 
grandfather never spoke much about his time over there, but I know he must have seen and 
experienced some incredible, and horrific, things.

The war in Korea I admittedly knew very little about. I know that we tried to help South Korea 
hold the communists at bay and eventually were successful in doing so, but that’s really about 
it. Nevertheless, I have a great amount of respect for anyone who has served this country in the 
military and I learned a long time ago that it was a good and right act to thank those servicemen 
face-to-face whenever you saw them. Especially if they were wearing those special kind of hats. 

As this elderly hero made his way down the aisle, I purposefully stood in his way so that I could 
garner his attention. I wasn’t all that concerned that he would run me over with his cart because 
of his lack of momentum, but I was careful all the same to watch out for my toes. Right as he was 
about to bump my cart, he stopped and looked up, staring me straight in the eyes. I quickly 
gathered myself and told him in the strongest voice I could muster, “Thank you for your service.” 

Without missing a beat, he replied, “It was my honor to serve you and my country and, if I had 
the chance, I would storm the border of Korea all over again in order to make sure that you 
stayed safe.” Instantly I felt my eyes start to sweat and any response that I could have made 
was stuck in my throat as if I was choking on a piece of steak.

Mesmerized by his response, I stood frozen in place, unable to reply. Here was this weathered 
and worn veteran who could no longer tie his own shoes, now declaring his desire to re-defend 
this country if that’s what it took. Shaking off my stupor, I was finally able to feebly respond to 
him, thanking him again for his service, words which now seemed pathetically inadequate. This 
genuine hero offered a satisfied smile and began to shuffle on his way towards the peanut 
butter and honey section. I in turn quickly turned my cart in the other direction to head toward 
the ice cream and fruit punch.

As I padded my way, avoiding more carts and the glut of consumers, I could not help but admit 
with a bit of sadness that they simply don’t make men like that anymore.

Who's got your back?

As I have gotten older I have grown to truly appreciate history. Not that I didn't enjoy history when I was in school, it's just that it didn't click with me as much as it does now. Of particular interest to me is the World War 2 era, probably because my grandfather served on a bomber in the Pacific theater. While he was alive I never heard him speak about  his experiences from the war, and what little I have learned has been from combing through old scrap books that my grandmother made and a small box of memorabilia that I discovered years after his death.

Books about the men and women who served during World War 2 absolutely fascinate me. How did we defeat Japan and Germany with little more than nineteen and twenty year old kids serving so selflessly to defend our freedom? Time and again I read of their sacrifice and work ethic and I think, "What in the world is wrong with me?" Harrowing stories of young marines storming the beaches of remote islands in the Pacific in order to root out the Japanese make for good drama, but beyond that is this sense of brotherhood that boggles the mind. Men running through withering machine gun fire to retrieve a wounded buddy because no man is to be left behind. Soldiers who, just months prior were complete strangers, now step in the line of fire to protect the lives of the guys next to them. A mantra of "we're all in this together" that superseded any rank or hierarchy in the midst of battle. These and countless other accounts amaze and inspire me every time I read them. Someone always seemed to have your back. 

This morning as I was having some time in the Bible and in reflection, I began to think about the many men and women in my life who have had my back over the years. As names came to mind, I wrote them down and my eyes began to sweat just a little as my list got longer and longer. Older couples who mentored me and my wife when we were newly weds and still trying to figure out how to figure out both marriage and parenthood. Childhood friends who stuck with me in my darkest days and are still there today when I need them. Mentors in the ministry who helped to keep me grounded and worked to gradually sand off the rough edges of my pride and arrogance. These men and women had and still continue to have my back!

I honestly do not believe that I would be where I am today if it were not for the many people that pulled alongside of me along life's journey and made critical and timely investments. Their impact in my life reminds me of how much the apostle Paul meant to a young man named Timothy who was charged with overseeing a fledgling church early in the expansion of the gospel into Asia. Timothy was young, but Paul reminded him that young people can still do great things for God (1 Timothy 4:12). Timothy was impressionable, so Paul spent much time giving wise counsel so that he would know how to discern truth from the lies and to understand the dangers of loving things more than God (1 Timothy 6:1-12).  Ultimately, Paul served as a mentor to young Timothy, loving him enough to give him gentle but firm guidance so that he could flourish in his life for Jesus:

But as for you, continue in what you have learned and firmly believed, knowing those from whom you learned. (2 Timothy 3:14)

I am thankful to say that I have had several serve as Paul's in my life. And I certainly want to do the same for others, serving as a voice of reason and wise mentor-ship as they grow in their faith and careers. So, who has your back? Are you allowing others to speak wisdom and truth into your life even if it's painful, or are you convinced that you've got it all figured out and can do it on your own? And who is looking to you for guidance and mentoring - are you taking advantage of this awesome responsibility? 

Broken bones, but not broken dreams

This is what a broken and dislocated forearm on a 9-year-old girls looks like. Unfortunately this belongs to my youngest daughter, Emme, who accomplished this after trying to catch herself from hitting the floor after falling off the balance beam at gymnastics. Accidents happen - and sometimes they really hurt! - but sometimes they affect more than just your physical well-being.

If you watch sports or have a child who plays sports or were an athlete yourself, then you know that injuries are often part of the game. Not everyone experiences bone-crushing fractures or career-ending injuries - most of the time it's knocks and bumps and the occasional bruise. But there are those moments where you watch an athlete's future dissipate before his or her eyes by an injury that prohibits them from coming back. And that is hard to watch.

As someone who has never really experienced any of this in the athletic arena, I've often wondered what it's like to receive the crushing news from a doctor or trainer that you might not be able to compete at the same level again. Even if you are just a weekend warrior and enjoy recreational sports leagues - which are awesome, by the way - I am sure that not being able to play at the same level as you once did can be frustrating if not even depressing.

So as I watched my budding young gymnast lie on the ground in obvious pain, my primary focus was making sure that she was okay and taken care of. But then as we were riding in the ambulance to the hospital, the inevitable thoughts came into my mind - Will she be able to do gymnastics again? And even if the physical healing is 100%, will she want to jump on that beam again after what happened? Will she even want to?

Sure, she's pretty new to the sport, but she is incredibly driven and has big dreams - she's already considering UCLA and Alabama for college because, according to her, "They have the best gymnastics teams." And she recently joined a team that will begin competition soon, which she has been working really hard to be ready for. How would she respond to the fact that even if she does make a full recovery it will still be months before she is able to even attempt the kind of moves she was doing before the accident? And what about us as parents - how will we help her through the potential disappointment of not being able to compete, both now and perhaps in the future?

It was right then and there, as these thoughts swirled through my brain, that I realized it would not matter to me one bit if my daughter ever wanted to slip on the leotard and get back to the gym. I am proud of her for trying her best and for being so brave to try a sport that I personally find pretty scary. And then she showed us more of what she is really made of.

After surgery and a brief time in recovery, she said she was ready to go home. Once there, she read out loud all of the get well cards that her classmates sent her and then she invited her friends over to hang out. She shared her Chick-Fil-A fries with them and hung out on the couch watching cheesy Disney shows with them, making sure that they were properly entertained and cared for. When she needed help from me or my wife, she was unafraid to ask for it. She also said she didn't want the pain medication that the doctor prescribed - she didn't like how it made her feel. And not once has she complained about being in pain or the fact that it could be months before she can go back in the gym again. The only disappointment she showed was not being able to go to school tomorrow.

I gotta be honest, it's times like these when I really look up to my kids and hope I can learn from them. As an adult, it's not a broken bone that concerns me but rather the potential for my dreams to be shattered. Yet here is a nine-year-old girl who is unafraid to take what life gives her and make it into something sweet.

Sometimes our dreams aren't the dreams that God has for us and sometimes we just need a little extra time before we can see our dreams fulfilled. But regardless of the circumstances, it is up to us to determine how we will handle life's ups and downs along the way. Jesus told us not to worry (Matthew 6:33) and Paul echoed that sentiment (Philippians 4:6). And they did so not because what we experience does not affect us or is unimportant but rather because God is greater than any difficulty or struggle we could ever encounter.

Dreams are great and we should keep on striving to live the dreams that God has placed in our hearts. Sometimes life will throw a wrench in our plans and derail these dreams, even if only temporarily. But if we keep our eyes on Jesus - "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness" - then we can know that regardless of the outcome that we desired, God will always give us exactly what we need - "and all of these things will be added unto you."

Underwear is meant to be comfortable. Life, not so much.

I am serving as camp pastor at a placed called Laurel Ridge in the NC moutains this week, so today I decided to go hiking on some trails in an effort to keep from gaining 15 pounds from all the camp food I’m going to be consuming. These trails aren’t new to me - I’ve hiked them countless times over the years as I have been up here as a camper, counselor, and pastor, so when I approached the trail head I was more than ready to get my sweat on and burn some calories.

There are four different trails and they are labeled according to color. Yellow is the longest, red is the steepest, green is not as challenging, and blue takes you to some scenic overlooks. I decided to start at the red/yellow point and then venture down the red trail. I thought about the yellow trail because it’s the one I remember the best from years past, but I wanted to give myself a bit of a challenge since I am such an outdoorsman (cue the sarcasm).

The initial decent on the red trail was pretty steep and I new that when it looped back around I would have to come back up, and I was already dreading the burn that I would experience. After about a quarter of a mile on the red trail, I noticed that the footpath that I was on was no longer clearly defined. It honestly looked like no one had hiked this trail in years. Was I lost? No, because the red markers were clearly visible along the trees at the trail wound along the side of the mountain.

As I continued on this trail, the actual path itself ceased to exist. Instead of hiking, I found myself bush whacking, tramping through patches of ferns, hopping over downed trees, and jumping small creeks. Every step I took felt as if I was pioneer trail blazer, minus the covered wagon and team of mules. Yet every step I took was with a purpose, because the entire time I was following this series of red markers spaced evenly on the trees.

Then things got a bit sketchy. At one point, I completely lost sight of the red ribbons and I was standing in the middle of a patch of brush and downed limbs. I continued to walk forward when suddenly I spotted a red ribbon on a tree in the distance. This happened to me on several occasions. It dawned on me that if I died out there, no one would find me for years. I would be nature’s compost. Then I began to wonder if someone had placed these ribbons on these trees just to see if anyone was a sucker enough to actually follow them. They say there is one born every minute…

Drenched in sweat and realizing that the shoes I had worn were woefully inadequate for such a trek, I finally looped back around to a piece of ground that looked vaguely familiar. The red ribbons had led me into a circuit that ended almost where they began. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to their placement, yet someone had taken the time to put them there knowing that eventually they would lead whoever followed them back to their starting point.

The whole time that I was hiking this oddly marked trail, two thoughts continue to go through my mind. First, I hope I can find my way out of here before I starve to death. And second, walking along a trail like this reminds me of how so many people traverse their spiritual journey through life.

Think about this for a minute. How easy is it for us to take the yellow trail, the one that we know best? Yes it’s long but it’s also safe. The red trail is the one the we often avoid because even though it’s marked for us, we seem to take every step with uncertainty because the path is not always clear.

If you are a follower of Jesus, then you know that God has not called you to safety or comfort but rather to share the good news of Jesus with the rest of the world. Yet doing so seems an awful lot like the red path. You can see the objective ahead of you - the people that you know you need to pull alongside of - but getting to where they are seems awful difficult if not just downright scary.

Underwear is meant to be comfortable. If it’s not, you put on a new pair. Life, however, holds no such guarantees. There are times when you will wonder if you are on the right path and more than once you will be tempted to turn around and call it quits. But that is not what Jesus did and that is not what we are called to do either. Take the red path. Sure it’s hard and it might hurt your feet, but there are people along the way on the red path that otherwise would never understand the meaning of life's journey if you don't meet them on it.

At the beginning and the end

Today I am officiating a wedding and also speaking at a funeral. I love officiating weddings because they are beautiful opportunities to be a part of the beginning of something so special between a man and a woman. Being able to speak God's truth into the lives of a couple as they say "I do" is a powerful thing. Plus, there is the benefit of enjoying all of the food at the reception - definitely a plus.

Funerals, on the other hand, are not so high on my list. It's not that a funeral isn't important - it certainly is - but the reality is that a majority of the time they are somber and incredibly sad events. Even when the one who has passed has lived a great life and is now in eternity with Jesus, those left behind still feel the sting of their lost presence.

But regardless of my feelings towards funerals, I have the honor of speaking at the service today of a woman named Cheryl who passed from this earth on Monday at the young age of 38. Let me tell you about Cheryl. I met her last year at my church and was immediately struck by her warmth and grace towards others. Cheryl was pretty much on her own - not much family in her life - yet she found herself surrounded by a community of friends and faith that loved and supported her and became her true family.

About the time I met Cheryl she informed me one Sunday that she had been diagnosed with cancer of the liver. She told me that she was going to fight it with everything she had. Once the treatments began she shaved her head as an act of defiance against the inevitable effects of chemotherapy and not once did she gripe or complain about the process.

As the months and treatments went by, Cheryl continued to fight but it became apparent that her cancer was fighting just as hard. Over the past several weeks she began to face complications and hospital visits became a part of her weekly routine. Last week, her best friend took her to the hospital one last time.

This past Sunday I received a text from Cheryl's friend asking if I could come see her at the hospital. I arrived at the ICU unit to find her hooked up to a respirator, dialysis, and all sorts of other tubes that were feeding medications into her failing body. She was resting peacefully, as if none of this cancer nonsense was all that big of a deal.

The next day I received another message - Cheryl was ready to go home. The decision had been made to terminate all of the artificial measures that were keeping her alive and I was asked to be there when the time came to turn them off. I'm not going to lie, I was conflicted. Watching as someone passes from this earth is incredibly difficult and is not something that I would naturally choose to do. Nevertheless, I drove to the hospital to be there with Cheryl and her friends when the time came.

As we were waiting in her room for others to arrive, I talked to Cheryl and read passages of Scripture to her - Psalm 19, Psalm 23, I Corinthians 15, and Revelation 21. These passages are beautiful reminders of God's love and purpose for us, not just here on earth but also for all eternity. Throughout the entire time she remained in a deep sleep, but I do believe she heard me. It is widely accepted that hearing is the last sense to leave prior to death and I firmly believe that she could hear and process my every word.

When the time came for the machines to be unplugged and the IV lines to be shut off, there was peace in the room. We all gathered around her bed and prayed over her, telling her that we would miss her but that it was okay to let go and go home to Jesus. As the minutes passed her vitals signs began to slow until she quietly took her last breath and the monitors fell silent. Without realizing I was even saying it, I exclaimed, "She's home!" and her friends gathered around her for one last goodbye.

Over the past sixteen years I have had the privilege of being in the room as all four of my children were born, assisting in the delivery of two of them. I've watched in awe and wonder as new life entered into the world, taking in that first lung-full of breath and crying out with the announcement that they have arrived.

I've also enjoyed the honor of officiating many weddings, celebrating with the bride and groom and their families as two lives merge together on a new and exciting journey. Their shared enthusiasm and giddiness during pre-marital counseling, the look on the groom's face when we first sees his bride, and the exhausted yet deeply in-love look they give to each other at the reception are memories that don't easily fade from the mind.

And then there is the end of life. Contemplating someone's years on this earth as you honor their memory is very sobering, yet it is also a wonderful opportunity to consider just how good and faithful God is. In the New Testament, James wrote that "life is a vapor," just a moment on earth in contrast to the continuum of eternity (James 4:14). During our time here, we live and breath because of a God who desperately loves us and wants us to know Him in a real and personal way through faith in Jesus Christ.

I am so very grateful that my friend Cheryl knew this and placed her faith in Jesus some time ago. As I speak on her behalf today, finding the right words won't be all that difficult. It's easy enough to speak about a life well lived. It's even easier to speak about a life well lived for Jesus.

Location:At the beginning and the end

Dream shots and hitting the mark

My goal in life has never been to be rich and famous and so far that goal is well within my grasp. Compared to the billions of people on this planet, my world is relatively small, but I still long to make an impact for someone greater than myself. But there was this one time when the world around me stopped to take notice. At least the guys in one of the basketball gyms at Wake Forest University did anyway.

I will be the first one to confess that my skills as a basketball player have never been much to brag about. Pick-up ball games at the church gym with the fellas that I grew up with were pretty much my only experience with the game, and every once in while I would chuck up a deep ball and see it tickle the twine, but that was not the norm. Being a short guy who could only dribble with his left hand, my specialty was playing annoying defense and fouling the opposing players, which I became pretty adept at doing. But my church buddies didn't seem to care all that much - I guess all that teaching on grace had begun to sink in by then and they quickly forgave my erratic performance.

Fast forward to my junior year in college and my game had actually improved quite a bit. I still couldn't do much with my right hand, but I was quick and could knock down a jumper or two, although I preferred (and still do to this day) to dish out a dime to a teammate whom I knew could make the shot. Pick-up games at Wake Forest were usually pretty intense, with the first team to eleven remaining on the court until they were jousted by a more talented  - or less fatigued - group of five, and the cycle would repeat itself.

Waiting to play in a game was almost as bad as trying to find a team to get on that would last more than one round of play, but every once in a blue moon I was able to weasel my way onto a pretty decent team. One spring afternoon in 1991 I believed I had finally hit the jackpot.

The games had just begun that afternoon and my team had a Wake Forest basketball player on it, a guy named David Rasmussen who had just transferred in from another college. He was tall and could shoot from anywhere on the court, which meant that all I would need to do was get him the ball and hang back on defense. I at last might be able to stay on the court for a few sessions before languishing on the sidelines awaiting my next opportunity to play.

As David gathered our team together, I noticed that another team was assembling that made my knees shake just a little. There was Chris King, the starting power forward for Wake Forest who would play several years in the NBA, and he was standing alongside Derrick McQueen, the starting point guard for Wake Forest, putting together a unit of their own. My first thought was that those two could beat the five of us on their own, but at the same time I was excited about being on the court with a few Wake Forest players. When was that ever going to happen again?

We took the court and play began. There was nothing formal about pick-up ball in the gyms at Wake Forest. The action was fast-paced and fouls were rarely called unless someone came up bleeding. I was matched up against Derrick McQueen, who didn't seem too impressed with my lack of physical acumen and thus paid little attention to me when my team was on offense.

Early in the game my teammate David Rasmussen found me on the fast break around the free throw line, and I floated up a jumper that went in. Of course, we could do little to stop the other team from scoring but it felt nice to contribute a little. A few possessions later is when the magic kicked in for me, forging memories that my mind can see just as clearly today as if they happened yesterday. You see, I got the hot hand and nailed a few deep baskets.

The first long shot came after the other team had scored. Chris King could routinely pull up from half court on those side courts and hit shots, and today was no different. After a basket by King, one of my teammates inbounded the ball to me and no sooner had I taken a step or two past half court, I launched a deep three point shot. Swish. The next time that we had the ball I did the exact same thing, launching a three point shot that barely moved the net as it passed through. I would never dare compare myself to an elite basketball player, but in that moment I truly believe I was in what athletes call "the zone," even if it only last for a few minutes.

My teammates were looking at me like, "Who is this short guy with the receding hairline hitting these shots like he's Larry Bird?" David Rasmussen gave me a knowing look and confidently said, "Keep getting open and I'll get you the ball." Seriously. Did they know that I could never hit those shots again in a million years? Besides, McQueen wasn't even playing defense on me, so I was open as I could hope to be each time down the court. All that would soon change.

During the stretch of our game, I noticed as a rather large muscular guy strolled into the gym and stood on the sidelines to watch our game. It didn't take me long to realize that this was super freshman Rodney Rogers, a McDonald's All-American - the first one I believe that Wake had ever signed - who was known as the Durham Bull. Rodney was an absolute beast on the court and we had all watched the Wake games in awe earlier in the year as he took over time and again, scoring with monster dunks and unguardable post moves while making opponents look downright silly. And here was Rodney Rogers, watching the pick-up game in which I was nailing shots against his varsity teammates.

It was after my third basket ripped the nets that I heard those words I will never forget. "Yo Derrick, white boy is showing you up!" shouted Rodney, aiming his words at his point guard teammate who up until now had paid little attention to me. In that moment, something came over Derrick McQueen. He had been called out and there was no way he was going to take that, especially from a teammate who, even though he was everybody's All American, was still the new kid on the block. Now it was on.

As we jogged down the court, the sting of Rogers' comment still ringing in his ears, McQueen looked at me and said, "Man, you need to slow down. You're gonna hurt yourself!" I feebly muttered back something to the effect that this was just a fluke and I'm sure it won't happen again, but I'm pretty sure he didn't listen. All I know is that suddenly Derrick McQueen was paying more attention to me than I could ever desire.

Any time I get near the ball, McQueen was in my grill. When he had the ball on offense he went straight at me, daring me to stop him. There were times when he actually tried to post me up in the paint, bullying me with his larger frame in an attempt to show me that he would not be taken lightly. All the while the game is continuing to be played by the other players who were shooting and missing and rebounding in spite of this personal battle that was now being waged.

A few minutes later it was all over. My team had lost by a few baskets and I had not so much as sniffed the leather on the ball once Rodney Rogers had uttered those fateful words. But I did outscore Derrick McQueen in that game three baskets to two, a point of satisfaction that still stays with me to this day.

Walking off the court, I thought that surely my MVP performance had been noticed by my teammates and they would present me with some sort of trophy for attempting to slay the monster of playing against Division One college players, but that was not the case. There were no post game handshakes or good game back slaps, just another round of first-team-to-eleven and waiting again for another chance to play.

Nevertheless I was feeling a bit euphoric and couldn't wait to get out on the court again. That's when I noticed that Rodney Rogers was still standing there on the sidelines and that no one was around him. Did this mean that he was available for the next game? Would I actually be able to play on the same team as Rodney Rogers?

Visions of lobbing ally oop passes for slam dunks and post-game fist bumps with the Durham Bull raced through my head. I had to make sure that no one else had approached him to be on their team. This was MY dream day and I was determined to keep on living it.

I sheepishly made my way over to where Rodney was standing, his giant frame casually dribbling a ball between his legs. With a faux wave of confidence, I asked him if he wanted to call next game with me and to my surprise he looked down at me and simply said, "Yeah." I was so overjoyed that you would have thought that he had just accepted an invitation to be my BFF, but I played it cool, not wanting him to know just how much of a homer I was.

The current game was drawing to a close, King and McQueen's team again ruling the court. "Not for long, suckas!" was all I could think as I eagerly awaited my turn to take the court with who at the time had been the most sought after freshman to ever don a Wake Forest basketball jersey. It was game point, and in the next few minutes my road to greatness was going to widen from a two lane back road to a four lane highway.

And just as quickly as my joy was about to reach its pinnacle, it all came crashing down. "Hey guys, coach wants all of you in a team meeting. Now!" I turned to see an assistant basketball coaching peering through the doors of the gym, the messenger for the Wake Forest head basketball coach who unknowingly was crushing my dreams.

Within seconds all of the varsity players were heading toward the door, Rodney Rogers included. "No! This isn't fair! I was about to play a game with Rodney Rogers. You can't have a team meeting now. I'm about to meet my destiny!"  I'm not sure if I actually said those things out loud or just thought them in my head at a maximum decibel level, but at that moment my heart sank as I realized my glory days as a baller were ending just as quickly as they had begun. The dream was over.

Now obviously my life was not ruined just because I never had the chance to play a pick-up basketball game with Rodney Rogers. Besides, hitting those big baskets against the point guard from a Division One school was exciting enough, even if it was a bit of a fluke. But here is one thing that I do know: Had I not thrown those shots up there, then there was zero chance that they would have gone in.

What is true in basketball is also true in life. Sometimes you just gotta throw it up there. I like to joke with my son whenever he plays recreation league basketball that he has never seen a shot he wouldn't take. And while no one likes a ball hog, there are also many times when you are be open yet will be too afraid to pull the trigger. Sometimes you just gotta take the shot!

How many times have you missed opportunities because you doubted your own abilities or you assumed that someone else was more qualified than you? Did you not take on that leadership role in part because you were scared of letting others down if you failed? Or maybe you are driven more by the fear of failure than you are a desire to success and be a change agent in this world?

Whatever the circumstances, God has not placed you here to simply settle for average. Think about the men and women of the Bible who took the big shot despite the odds that were stacked against them:

• Abraham, an obscure guy who didn't even closely follow God, yet went by faith when he was called by God to go to a land where he had never been before so that he could be the beginning of a great nation (Genesis 12:1-5)
• Rahab was a prostitute, yet she gambled her own life to honor God and as a result found herself in the royal bloodline of King Jesus (Joshua 2; Matthew 1:5)
• David was the youngest of several sons and spent his days watching sheep, yet he stepped up to the line to defeat a giant and subsequently lead a great nation (1 Samuel 17; 2 Samuel 5)
• Then there is Paul, a former Jewish leader who placed his faith in Jesus, risking his life to spread the gospel throughout the known world (The Book of Acts)

If you take that big shot are you guaranteed to make it? No, but you will never make it if you do not even try. We are able to dream big dreams because we have a God who is all about big dreams. As an image bearer of the God who knows no limits or boundaries, the ball is in your hands and it is your turn to take the big shot.

The day after the day after

Memories are an amazing thing. Those moments that you have experienced in your life - the laughter, adventures, times you have felt most alive and daring - are things that no one can take away from you. Memories are God's ways of allowing us to hold on to the best of times so that we never have to let them go.

Of course memories can serve a different purpose than just allowing us to revel in the past. When I was a kid, I can remember times when I wish I had made different decisions. Throwing a rock and hitting the neighborhood bully was one of those memories I wish I could forget. Yeah, he may have deserved it and if it wasn't me then it probably would have been someone else throwing that rock, but what sticks with me more is the vivid recollection of the whooping I got with my dad's leather belt when he got home from work later that day. That memory still stings! But I can also tell you that I never threw rocks at that kid or any other kid again and somewhere along the way I actually learned to be civil with that neighborhood bully.

Two days ago my little community of Southport, NC, lost one of its own, Lily Beatini, a high school senior who was set to join her fellow seniors for graduation practice today. There will be an empty chair where she should have been, and for many students and teachers there is still an empty place in their hearts reserved for a friend that they desperately miss. Pain, anger, frustration, and hurt are in a constant battle to fill that spot, and for many of them the feeling of despair is almost too real and overwhelming. It's been a hard couple of days and the day after the day after will be another challenging one. My heart aches for her family and these students and this school who are struggling to carry on.

Yet there are some pretty amazing memories out there as well, aren't there? Memories of a short fire plug of a girl who was just as quick to share her opinion as she was her smile. Memories of a friend who drove a larger-than-life Suburban that made her look like the queen of the highway. Memories of a someone who made everyone smile when they saw her in the halls. These are just some of the memories that have been shared with me these past few days, and I have seen many find comfort in the laughter amidst the tears. It's been so easy for Lily's friends to share funny stories and meaningful times that they enjoyed with her because those sweet memories far outweigh any of the bad.

And that's the way it's supposed to be.

No one can take the memories of the good times away from you. When the tears start to come again and you find yourself starting to recede back into a dark place, allow those memories to flood your soul. Let them propel you to remember the best of times, because those times are what God has given to you as a gift. Eighteen years may not seem like enough time on this earth, but it's more than enough time to live an amazing life and leave friends and family with incredible memories that can never be taken away. Lily, thanks for the memories.

Life is precious and oh so sweet

I just returned from South Brunswick High School where almost all of the high school students in my youth group attend as well as my oldest daughter. Normally, this wouldn't be an unusual event at all since I sub there a few times a month and I man the carpool duty there every afternoon. But today was different. I was there for the worst possible reason.

This morning a high school senior, a vivacious and popular fireball of a girl named Lily Beatini, died tragically in an auto accident not far from the school. Word in the form of rumors spread fast - I got my share of text messages - with everyone wanting to know what was going on. When my phone rang and I was officially told the tragic news, my heart sank. I didn't know this young lady personally other than being her substitute teacher on a couple of occasions and watching her play lacrosse, but I knew that she was well-loved and respected by all of her classmates. Her death has left so many students staggered and at a loss for words.

I drove with a heavy heart to the high school to see if there was any way that I could help. When I arrived I was told that several of the students in my youth group were assembled in a classroom and were expecting me. Tears of grieving teenagers greeted me at the door and I saw first hand the pain and anguish in their eyes. As I sat down with them to talk and listen, the first question I knew that I had to address was, "Why?"

Why? Why does God allow things like this to happen? Why does an 18-year-old who is set to graduate in a couple of weeks have to die? It just doesn't seem fair, does it?

Honestly, I have no good answer for those questions because I simply don't know the answer. But there are some things that I do know about tragedy and death:

1. We will all one day die. I don't like to think about this for myself or for anyone else that I love for that matter, but death is the reality, not the exception. And for most of us, we are given no warning when it will come. I hate death. Not so much because it snatches away loved ones from but because when God created life in the beginning, death wasn't in the equation. We were made to live, not die, but sin ruined all of that. Death makes me hate sin all the more.
2. God is good. In spite of all the tragedy that seems to surround us everyday, the one constant that we can rely on is the goodness of God. Oh, I know it doesn't seem that way when bad things happen and there may have been times where you were convinced that God was anything but good. Yet when we examine our day-to-day lives and we realize how God sustains us and meets our needs and answers our prayers and blesses us in spite of what we deserve, that's when we gain the proper perspective. God is indeed good and He grieves over the same frustrations and tragedies that almost devastate our souls.
3. Death does not have the final say. Death stings and it stings badly, but it does not win in the end. When God sent His Son Jesus, He came to defeat sin and conquer death. On the cross, Jesus forgave the sins of the world. When He rose from the grave, he told death to literally go to Hell. For those who place their faith in Jesus, this life is only the beginning. What awaits us when we pass from this earthly existence into the presence of God in heaven is what we are truly waiting for, for that is when life really begins.

Those words make sense and many of you believe them as I do. Yet still, the sting of death is hot and the pain is real. And that's the way it's supposed to feel. It hurts and it sucks. So allow me to leave you with a few suggestions on how to face the pain that death brings while also embracing the life that you were meant to live:

1. It's okay to cry. Pain is, well, painful and it touches us to the depths of our emotions. So go ahead and cry and get it all out. It's okay. God created your emotions and that's what they are there for.
2. Don't go at it alone. We were all made to live in community with each other, not be Lone Rangers. As you struggle to understand why these things happen to people that you love and care about, choose to struggle together. Be with your friends, sit around and talk and laugh at the good memories, cry on each others' shoulders, and enjoy being together. We are always better together.
3. Take advantage of the simple things. A simple wave at a friend or even an acquaintance always means something. Smile at people. Take time to watch the clouds as they roll by on a sunny day. Walk barefoot. Stop to chat even when you're in a hurry. Think about what you say before you say it. Call or text a friend you haven't seen or heard from in awhile. Ferris Bueller said it best: Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.
4.  Seek after God with everything you've got. Remember, as awesome as this world can be, you were created for so much more than this life can possibly offer you. Jesus came that we might have life and life to the fullest, so seize every opportunity to connect with God and live in awe of your Creator. Pray to God and give Him your needs, go to church or youth group, take time out of your busy day to the read the Bible, enjoy the fellowship of other Christians. Do all of this in anticipation of much greater things to come.

Life is precious and life is sweet. Don't miss it.

You don't need a license to drive

The artist known as Prince just died. It's all over the news and his music is basically on every station. While not necessarily a fan of Prince - I have never owned nor downloaded any of his music - I do have a deep appreciation for the artist that he was. I'm not ashamed to admit that last night in the car is was jamming to "Little Red Corvette" and "Let's Go Crazy" when it came on the radio. When you hear brilliance, you must stop to appreciate it.

Another no-as-famous person died yesterday as well. Chyna, of WWE fame, passed away, leaving behind a legacy for female wrestlers that she pretty much started on her own. Back in the day, I used to watch wrestling when it wasn't the trashy show that it is now. Chyna was just coming on the scene then and, while I didn't always buy the theatrics, I did appreciate the fact that a woman could body slam a man and make him look silly. When someone busts boundaries wide open, you have to stop and admire, even if it's an arena (pardon the pun) that you don't necessarily like.

Why do so many people react almost viscerally when those who are loaded with talent and vision are gone from our presence seemingly too soon? I believe it's because these people leave a void in our lives that we don't believe can be adequately filled by someone else. While the movers and the shakers of this world have feelings and often deal with the same struggles as you and me, they also have something that makes them stand out - drive.

Drive is what you call initiative on steroids. It's what keeps you up at night thinking about how tomorrow is going to be better today. Drive won't necessarily give you better grades on your tests, a cooler car, or a nicer house, but it will allow you to push boundaries that many will think impossible to eclipse.

As a society, we adore and sometimes detest people with drive. But we also tend to do something else that is rather self-deprecating. As hold these people in higher esteem, at the same time we believe that there is no way we could ever achieve the same kinds of success that they did. That had IT and we don't, or so we convince ourselves. When we see ourselves that way, we automatically limit ourselves and preapprove mediocrity as a way of life.

Don't get me wrong - there are people out there who have achieved much more than you and I could ever do, whether it be because of the financial backing that they have, freakish athletic ability, or a brain that is wired for superior smarts. Yet drive is not limited to those with "elite" skills. Drive is something that we all have within us, we just have to be unafraid to release the horses and let them run.

Ask yourself this: What is your passion? You know, what is the one thing that, if you could do it, you would want to invest all of your energy and time in for as long as you could? Your passion is what drives you, and for many we have allowed life's circumstances to dictate where we can and cannot allow our drive to take us. Some of that is beyond our control, yet more often than not we limit ourselves.

Jesus had drive. It was to seek and save the lost, drawing all men and women to His Father, God. The apostle Paul had drive. His was to proclaim the good news of Jesus across the Asian continent, planting churches all along the way. You, too, have a drive that God has put into your heart. It may not make you into a famous musician or professional wrestler, but once you allow that drive out of the barn you can be assured that God will use it to change the world around you.

Compassion is more than just a fancy word

Compassion. This is a word that is not foreign to any of us. We know what it means, or at least we think we know what it means. The word compassion comes from the Latin word compati which means "to suffer with." This means that if you have compassion on someone, then you are there suffering with them. Not from a distance or by throwing money at a cause, but right there with them. This makes compassion personal, real, difficult at times.

As I write this my oldest daughter is in the hospital in Winston-Salem getting treatment for a pretty nasty flare up of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA). As I've watched her struggle through pain this weekend, it's been necessary to muster all the compassion that I can for her. Not because I don't care, but rather because I personally don't have JRA and I often don't know how to suffer with her. Yes, I can show sympathy and tell her that I care, but compassion is more than that. It's intensely personal.

Simply put, compassion is more than words. It's a coming alongside of someone and connecting with them through ugly situations in their life. It's getting dirty and not worrying about how bad the stains you receive are going to be and if they will wash out. Compassion has more to do with being unable to go any further until you've done all that you can do to meet a need. It stops you in your tracks and won't allow you to look the other way.

In Matthew 14, Jesus had compassion on a large crowd that had gathered to hear Him preach. His concern for these men and women was that they had been there with Him all day in a desolate place where there was no food for them to eat. It wasn't like they could call Domino's and order a pizza. Jesus' disciples saw what was happening and suggested that He send the people away to their own homes so that they could grab a bite to eat before it got too late, but Jesus had other things in mind. To Jesus, compassion meant owning the suffering of others, not merely offering a solution. Instead of giving this crowd good advice, He gave them something to eat. In that moment, He fed over 5,000 people with only two fish and five loaves of bread. Jesus could have sent them home. Instead, He gave all that He could give.

Look around you. How many needs do you see on a daily basis? Have you ever thought, "Man, I hope those people get the help they need"? Or maybe you've said something like, "I'm praying for you and I'm here if you need me." None of these things are inherently wrong, but they also aren't compassion unless we do what we can to meet those needs.

Compassion could be quitting your job and relocating to a low income neighborhood to run an after school center for troubled kids. Compassion might be sitting for hours with a grieving friend as they mourn the loss of loved one, crying with them and listening to their pain. Compassion is pulling alongside a student whose parents don't invest in him and giving him guidance and encouragement so that he can believe in himself and succeed. And compassion is what keeps you up at night, unable to sleep until you have figured out a way to meet the financial need of a neighbor who just lost her job.

But how much can I really do? I mean, I don't have much money to give and I've got a family of my own to care for! Those are honest concerns, yet compassion goes beyond them because compassion doesn't merely ask what can I do, but rather compassion asks, "What am I WILLING to do?" It's not how much you give but rather your willingness to give in the first place.

I ain't skeered! Are you?

Have you ever seen a big, strong weight lifter scream like a little girl when he sees a spider? Or how about a seasoned defense attorney freak out over a paper cut to her index finger? Maybe you haven't, but you can certainly picture the scenario in your head and have probably seen something similar.

We live in a world where we all want to be seen as tough and fear is a taboo to be avoided. How many movies do you see where the coward is the hero? Yet in spite of our best efforts, if we were to sit in a support group circle together and allow our defenses to come down, we would all admit to being scared of plenty of things.

• The possibility of our health or the health of our children being compromised
• Losing a job and being unable to support our families
• What the future of our country will look like, which means we either have Trump-phobia, Hillary-phobia, Bernie-phobia, Republican-phobia, Democrat-phobia, etc. ad nauseum.
• Or maybe we are afraid of what we see as international threats, such as ISIS, nuclear capabilities of North Korea, or our perceived leaky borders. 
• The eventual takeover of the world by the Illuminati and the One World Order (c'mon, everybody is scared of a good conspiracy theory now and then!).
• Spiders. Because spiders are ALWAYS scary.

Whatever it is that you fear in this world, you often feel justified in your fears because the media has a unique way of stoking the flames of paranoia and hysteria. A few clicks on the keyboard will open up a cornucopia of websites and facts and figures as to why your fears are legitimate and you had better start stocking up on Spam and freeze dried vegetables right away. The fear is real!

But what if you realized that your fears don't actually help you cope with the looming gloom and doom that you are so certain is coming? What if you realized instead that in spite of being helpless to defend yourself against the coming Armageddon of bad healthcare/skewed politics/imminent poverty/etc., you are perfectly safe right where you are? Would you believe that?

Truth is, bad things are going to happen in this world. We've been working for centuries to fight diseases, boost the economy, defeat fascists, and improve the environment, yet time and again we have still seen people suffer and lives lost. It's at these times we are tempted to climb in our bunkers, put on our tin foil hats, and hope for the best. What we need to realize is that not only is help on the way, but that help is already here.

Whether you see it or not or agree with it or not, God is in control. He is what we call "sovereign." Nothing escapes His sight and He is well aware of the condition of our world right now. After all, He has allowed us to make the decisions that have gotten us into the messes in which we so often find ourselves. And if you believe that and you believe that Jesus came to give you life and the relationship with God that you were ultimately created for, then you probably already know that one day the Lord will return and rescue us from this mess and carry us with Him into a perfect eternity. The best is yet to come!

But for now we must live in hope and endure the hard times. God has not left us here to blow around in the winds of uncertainty, but rather He is with us every step of the way. I love the words that He spoke to Israel a few thousand years ago when they found themselves enveloped in a tempest of uncertainty:

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand... For I, the Lord God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, "Fear not, I am the one who helps you."      (Isaiah 41:10, 13)

Twice they were told to "fear not" because there is truly nothing to fear. Did the "wrong" candidate get elected? Fear not, God is in control. Are you afraid of what the doctor's lab work will show? Fear not, God has you in His right hand. Terrified of the world that your children will have to face in the future? Fear not, God's got this.

If we are going to "fear not" then we have to believe that God is bigger than our fears. There will continue to be many things beyond our control that will cause us to wring our hands and worry about the future, causing our fear meters to spike. Yet we can take comfort in knowing that we serve a God who is greater than all our fears. 

If you said THAT, this it's time to gain some weight

As soon as the words left my lips, I knew that what I had uttered was not true. I was trying to make a point about what it meant to be responsible for our own actions, but what came out didn't exactly match up with the truth I was trying to convey. What I had said was along the lines of, "God only helps those who can help themselves," and I'm sure that I had crossed far more egregious lines with my words before in a more private setting, but this time I was far from being in a one-on-one conversation with a patient friend. I was preaching a message from the Bible in front of the people of my church.

Now let me set the stage a little bit better for you. At the time that I spoke these poorly chosen words, I was in my young 20's and serving as a youth director at a small church on the outskirts of an even smaller town. It was my first solo church gig. The pastor there was a really awesome guy who, in the few months that we served together, took me under his wing and made it a point to give me opportunities to preach as often as he could (or that he would dare).

Not quite ready for the Sunday morning showcase, I typically sharpened my craft in the Sunday evening service, where more often than not there would be a few dozen in attendance at best. In case you didn't know, Sunday evening services at small churches are typically reserved for faithful church goers who never miss an opportunity to sit in their favorite pew no matter what the occasion. It was on such a Sunday night service that I made my biblical blunder, and the stammering and stuttering that followed only made it more awkward for me to recover.

Now to their credit, the church members that were in attendance that night didn't seemed phased. It's probably because they weren't truly listening to me in the first place, and who could blame them - my nerves had caused me to speak so rapidly that I could barely follow along! But I did get to have a time to debrief with the pastor and I highlighted my error before he could, which resulted in a few good-natured laughs and an admonishment from him to weigh my words more carefully before they ever reached my tongue.

If you buy an article of clothing at the store and it doesn't fit, you can take it back. Unfortunately, poorly spoken words can't be returned, even if they can be forgiven. What you say has instantly been put on the record books, and no amount of hemming and hawing is going to change that. In a world where politicians are constantly trying to deny saying what has been captured on digital media for the world to hear, you would think that we would be much more careful on the front end with what we say before we get royally burned on the back end.

Just the other day a well-known pastor of a megachurch - a man whose ministry I admire greatly - said something in his Sunday morning sermon that rankled a whole lot of feathers (just in case you don't want to watch the clip, he said that if you don't go to a church big enough to provide certain environments for your kids, then you are being selfish and you don't care about your kids and their spiritual future). The response on social media - at least among those I know who are in the ministry - was swift and one-sided. True, many had been waiting a long time to take a nice swing at this guy, but most could not get over the fact that this man, who has an audience quite possibly in the millions when you count those who tune in online, would be careless enough to say what he said.

Did he really mean it? I mean, as many times as he's preached in his life and as careful as he must be with his sermon preparation, would he have said such a thing if he didn't weigh it out first? To this man's credit he took to social media a couple of days later to apologize, stating that once he took the time to listen to what he had said that he, too, was offended by it. For some, his apology will be enough for them to move on under his leadership but for others it will be the final straw.

I don't think I have to tell you this by now but I will anyway - the words that you say are so incredibly important! As a father of four kids I can't tell you how many times I have put my foot in my mouth with some of the words that I have said to them, and please don't bring up all of the misguided and just plain stupid things that I have said to my wife over the years. When you and I neglect to weigh the words that we are about to speak, we can expect to encounter some pretty awkward and painful moments.

But there is good new for us who are prone to foot-in-mouth disease! The Bible has lots of great wisdom to offer about the words that we say, especially in the Old Testament book of Proverbs:

The lips of the righteous feed many, but fools die for lack of sense. (Proverbs 10:21)

The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. (Proverbs 12:18)

The heart of the righteous weighs its answers, but the mouth of the wicked gushes evil. (Proverbs 15:28)

Do you see the trend here? There is direct connection between wisdom and the words that we say. In other words, if we take the time to think about what we say before we say it - if we carefully weigh our words - chances are we won't have to take to social media to publicly apologize for our blunders.

I was fortunate enough when I was in my young 20's that the careless words I said before my little congregation did not have many ears to irritate. From that circumstance and others like it, I was able to grow and move on as a more careful communicator, a craft that I still work at diligently today. As a pastor I understand the awesome privilege I have to preach God's word and the accountability that goes with that. But I also know that no matter what you do in life - whether your stage is small or grand - the words that you say will always influence other people.

Learn to weigh your words on the scale of truth and common sense before you speak them. It's always better to take extra time on the front end to formulate what you are going to say than to have to spend lots of time and energy on the back end trying to explain what you actually meant to say in the first place. 

Cam Newton, grow up! But only if I let you...

By now you've all seen or at least heard what happened. Cam Newton, the Carolina Panther's MVP quarterback and emotional leader, sitting sullen before a bank of hungry reporters. His answers are brief, his mood dark. Having just lost the biggest game of his career barely half an hour before, he's still trying to process it all while the world is demanding that he give a polished thesis of the results. Finally, after only a few minutes and within earshot of an uber loud opponent's comments, Newton abruptly stands and walks away from the interview, leaving the media with all sorts of ways to spin what they had just witnessed.

Yes, Newton could have responded better and most talking heads and Monday morning quarterbacks have been very critical of him for that. But of course, that's easy for us to say. When the team that I cheer for loses, I usually am not gung ho about it. In fact, I can get a little bit sullen myself and I didn't even get close to sniffing the field of play.

What I've been hearing this entire NFL season as the Carolina Panthers have shot to the top is that, while they are a solid team with legitimate talent, Cam Newton lacks maturity on the field and he can't lead them all the way. Why have people said that? Is it because he actually has fun with the game, gives balls away to little kids when he scores, and celebrates on the sidelines the success of his teammates? Heaven forbid a leader do that. Or could it be that off the field he give back to his community and hasn't been found in any police blotters? Alas, it rubs many the wrong way and there have been cries all season for this young man to grow up.

But here is the problem with that. Many want Newton to grow up, but only on their terms. 

Most leaders who find themselves in a situation like Cam Newton's - having to rebound from a major disappointment or failure - learn from these moments whether we allow them to or not. Cam has been criticized for being a poor leader, but what we don't see is what is going on behind the scenes with his coaches and teammates. You see, this young leader is surrounded by other leaders who no doubt are speaking as wise voices into his life. None of them have publicly lashed out harshly at him because, well, that's not what leaders do. And frankly, if all he did was give a less than stellar interview after a heartbreaking loss - minus any screaming or throwing of objects, which didn't happen - then the Panthers really don't have a whole lot of damage control to do.

This whole docudrama reminds me of someone else who had a much worse moment in the spotlight, yet rebounded remarkably well. The apostle Peter started the whole awful interview concept to begin with. Before his big blunder-fest, Peter was with Jesus declaring that He was indeed the Messiah (Matthew 16:6). Bravo, Peter! Way to lead the pack! 

But fast forward a short amount of time and we see Peter dropping the ball big time. Confronted by others about his association with the newly arrested Jesus, Peter denied ever knowing the guy. Not once, but three times. In fact, he became so eager to clear his name that he publicly cursed as evidence that he and Jesus were strangers. On the biggest stage of his life, and before the eyes of those who are eager to hear his side of the story, Peter blows it.

The rest of the story turns more tragic before a beautiful ending that is still being written. Jesus is crucified, which doubtless would have happened even if Peter had declared his allegiance from a mountaintop. But then, history turns on its ear as the grave that held the body of Jesus bursts forth in glorious emptiness as He conquers death and leaves His death shroud behind.

When Jesus and Peter link up later on a beach, the scene is much different. Three times Jesus asks Peter if he loves Him, and three times Peter publicly declares that he does. Do you know what just occurred in that incredible moment? Redemption. Growth. Restoration of a leader.

Not to be lost in all of this is the fact that Peter was already a leader - he had been with Jesus for over three years, serving by His side. And Jesus knew that one moment of failure was not enough to define the life that He had called Peter to live. So He reminded Peter of who he was and what he was called to do, and with a newfound energy Peter took that challenge and began his path of altering the course of history for the glory of God.

True leaders grow from adversity while others fade. Peter did just that, and if you know Jesus then you can be grateful that Peter moved on after what seemed an unforgivable moment. Because that's what leaders do. 

Give Cam some time to process what he's been through. I promise that if he is the leader that I think he is and listens to the voices of truth that surround him, he will rebound well from this. Some won't accept anything that he says or does from here on out, but that's okay. Leaders will always have their share of haters and they will thrive off of their venom. As for me, I'll be watching him again next season and cheering him on, because I don't believe this leader has come close to seeing his best days yet.

The pain is real. And so is the solution.

The stories I hear are gut wrenching. A high school student whose parents are MIA in her life. A young man who has never been told that he was good enough or smart enough. Accounts of students who spend days and nights alone at home while their parents are out drinking and getting high. In other cases there are students who live with relatives or neighbors because their families can't or won't support them.

While the individual stories may differ, the results are the same. I see teenagers every day who are hurting because they simply do not know where to turn in their lives. Whether it is their parents who have neglected them, friends who have betrayed them, or relationships that have left them feeling dirty and worthless, there is a generation of young people crying out, and their pain is very real.

Yes, I've seen the drama that occurs in the lives of middle and high school students. Many times the bark is where worse than the actual bite. Feelings get hurt all the time, especially when you are at the age where you are trying to figure out who you are as your life (and your body) goes through immense changes. But often the outer drama reveals an inner hurt that has been left to fester for too long.

It's easy to keyhole this generation as one who feels entitled to things and has no concept of hard work. All they've ever known are iPhones and technology, so aren't they to blame for their lack of relationship and coping skills? Maybe they do share some of the burden, yet when their emptiness is real and the voids are deep, they may have no other option than to sink within themselves.

I sometimes substitute teach at the local middle and high schools in my town. Since I am also a youth pastor, I get to see lots of students on their turf that otherwise I may never get a chance to influence. It wasn't long ago when I subbed for a teacher who had one class that was particularly trying. It seemed as if the school rounded up all of the students with discipline problems and placed them in this one class at the end of the school day. One girl in particular stood out as sort of the ring leader of the chaos. She was little rough around the edges and based on what I had heard from some of the other students, her reputation was not so stellar. So, I called her up to my desk so that we could have a little chat.

She sheepishly approached me, perhaps thinking that I was going to give her a pink slip and send her to the office. But instead I began to ask her questions about herself. What do you want to be when you get older? Tell me about your dreams and your goals. Instantly there was a glimmer in her eye and she shared with me that she wanted to be cardiac surgeon so that she could help people. Honestly, I would have never guessed that in a million years based on her behavior and her grades (which she freely shared with me weren't that good). But instead of telling her to be more realistic, I encouraged her to pursue that dream whatever it took. "I can tell by talking to you that you are very smart and that you might be selling yourself a little bit short. I'll bet that if you buckle down and try your hardest, you can reach that goal. I believe in you."

What happened next was so cool. She paused for a moment with an astonished look on her face and then asked, "Do you really think so?" I told her that I did and that I was excited to see how she progressed the next few years of school. This young lady blushed and said thanks, and then walked back to her desk with her head held a little higher. I can't say that she was an angel for the rest of the class period, but I do know that those positive words that I was able to speak to her made her believe in herself a little bit more.

This world is filled with young people (and many older ones) who feel as if no one believes in them or that they are not good enough. One of my goals is to make sure that these people know that they matter, especially to God. Jesus didn't come to die so that we could feel better about ourselves. No, He died to save us from our sins and a future destined for ruin and to connect us with God. It's great to believe in yourself, but it's even better when you believe what God says about you - that He loves you, cares for you, and has greater plans for your life than you could possibly imagine.

So the next time you encounter students who looks like their future is headed nowhere, take some time to talk to them. You might be surprised what their life goals and dreams are. And, you won't want to miss out on an opportunity to speak truth and encouragement into their lives. But most of all, love them as God loves them. They need to know that their lives and their dreams matter.

Throw-away kids

"Steven" had another bad day. That's what the school administrator told me as I sat in a comfy chair across from her desk. This young man, barely halfway through his elementary education, would be spending the next couple of days at home. Again. And no, she didn't break confidentiality by telling me his name - I actually guessed.

I was there to discuss with her ideas about using high school students after school to tutor and mentor elementary students and, before I rose to leave, I told her that if there was an immediate need that I could help with, please let me know. That was when she mentioned a student - whom I guessed to be "Steven" - who was really struggling and was facing yet another suspension from school. She called him a "throw away" kid, not because she didn't see his value (she did and she showed him much love), but rather because the rest of the world around him didn't seem to recognize it. 

Hearing this story literally broke my heart. Since I knew who he was, I asked if I could speak to the young man briefly before I left, and she called him out of class to come down to the office. I pulled "Steven" aside and told him how much worth and value his life had and that, if he even needed another advocate in his life, to please call me. I then gave him a big hug because the tears in my eyes were preventing me from saying anything else. As I watched him walk back down the hall to his class I felt a burning rising up within my soul. This young man was not a throw-away kid. He is an incredible creation of God who had yet to discover just how great he could be.

Look around you. There are these so-called throw-away kids everywhere. And the reasons for this are many. Some come from families that either cannot or will not support them, and that is tragic. Others have no role model in their lives and so they have no idea how to grow up to be a responsible man or woman. Tragically, many of these young people will continue to struggle until they either drop out of school or find themselves frequent fliers within our penal system.

If you are reading this, then you are probably envisioning a throw-away kid that you know about. Maybe you've looked upon that child with pity and tried to help or perhaps you shake your head in disgust and wonder where his or her parents are. Regardless of what your perspective is, the bigger question is, "What are you going to do about it?"

Proverbs 22:6 (ESV) tells us, "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." Some see this verse as a guarantee that if you raise your kids right, then they will turn out right. I wish that was always true! What this verse is actually telling us is that if you instill the love of God and a heart for Jesus in a child, whether or not he/she grows up to follow after Him, the truths that you have seeded into their lives will never go away. They may be able to run from God's truth but they can never hide from it.

When I think about kids like "Steven" and others like him, I am compelled to do more. I want to be a part of the solution in his life, not one who condemns him for his problems. I hope you feel the same way. Now more than ever young people need mentors to pull alongside of them and show them the better path for them to take. It can be as simple as volunteering to help children with homework after school or as deep as becoming a foster parent. But regardless of what you choose, please know this - you have what it takes to be an advocate for these young people what will allow them to shed the throw-away label once and for all.