Recently, a guy from church wanted to share the story of his son’s baptism with me.  He was baptized at his mom’s church, because that’s what his mom wanted, and as a young man, he kind of liked the whole production value of this church’s baptisms.  The church records interviews with those that are to be baptized and have them explain what brought them to that decision.  I’m not knocking the idea.  I think it’s great.  But when they asked this young man how he came to accept Jesus, he began his answer with, “Well, at my dad’s church…”  Most subsequent answers started the same way.  They tried wording questions differently to get a more usable answer from him, but that’s what they kept getting.  The day he was baptized, the video was shown, and not knowing differently, the lead pastor said, “When he says, ‘my dad’s church,’ he’s talking about this church.’”  Of course, he wasn’t, but I really don’t think the pastor knew that.

This young man goes to our church every other week.  He has come up through the ranks, if you will.  Our toddler and preschool teachers had him for four years.  He’s been in our elementary ministry for about four more years.  When asked what brought him to wanting to accept Jesus as Savior, his answer was, “at my dad’s church…”  Why?  Because at his dad’s church, he’s taught the Bible faithfully by faithful volunteers.  Years before I ever came here, this was run solely by volunteers.  Many of those volunteers are still here, still serving, still giving what they’ve got, so that boys and girls can come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.  Sometimes working silently in children’s ministry can feel like behind the scenes work, but there is reward.  There are kids who come to know Jesus through their work.  I love my volunteers.  I’m proud to be associated with them.  These volunteers make my job doable, they make my job desirable, and most importantly, they make an impact on the lives of children that will last for an eternity.

Kids don’t just rat out their families.  They say some pretty outstanding things.  I assume we’re all familiar with “Kids Say the Darndest Things,” between one of its runs, but it’s not just the darndest things they say.  They also say some of the most spiritual things.

Sunday morning, I was teaching the elementary kids about why Jesus was referred to as the Lamb of God.  So I talked a little bit about Old Testament sacrifice (without getting graphic).  I talked about our need for a greater sacrifice, and how God provided that through Jesus.  I told them that God must love us so much to give us a gift like that.  Then a kid raised his hand.  Now, I know not to call on this kid.  It’s a standard rule of mine, because the answer always deviates to vampires, werewolves, fights, and video games.  No matter what I’m asking, he circles back to his staples, and it scares some of the younger kids.  So I generally make him wait and tell me after I’m done teaching.  In fact, I try to only call on kids when I’m asking a question that needs answering, because otherwise, I have no idea where it’s going, especially with this kid.  But there was something in his face, so I did call on him, and I’m glad he did.  Here’s what he said:

“My dad says that he thinks God hates him.  I told him that’s not true, but he keeps saying it.  I think he thinks that, because he and my mom are divorced, but I know God loves him.  I tell my dad that. He always says that God must hate him, because bad stuff keeps happening, but I told him that just because bad things happen doesn’t mean God doesn’t love him.  It’s just that sometimes we make bad mistakes, and then things happen.  It’s not God’s fault.  He still loves us.”

I feel like I should tell you that this little guy did not grow up in church, and he’s only been attending church for a few months. I think he’s getting it, though.  On a separate note, another little boy asked me on Sunday why we have to give money in the offering, when in the Old Testament, they gave animals.  I tried to quickly explain the difference in our economies.  Kids say the most spiritual things.  Pastors get suckered into giving lame answers that none of the kids care about.

My bitterness started with legitimate hurting.  I had been hurt by something that I cared a great deal for and had placed an enormous amount of faith in: the church.  It sucked.  Pastors don’t go into ministry expecting to get chewed up and spit out.  Professors do tell you that most people that go into ministry do not last, but they make it sound like its entirely the fault of the weak individual who falls out of ministry.  They forget to tell you that there are probably people who “have made it” in ministry only to step all over the young pastors.

Coming out of a place of hurt, I actually found it therapeutic to read some blogs and follow some twitter accounts that reflected how I felt.  These guys had been through what I had been through, to varying extents, and I identified with their pain.  I guess it comforted me to know that I wasn’t the only one that had been there.  I can’t say that it was overly helpful, though.  Time passed, and I continued reading their posts and tweets, and I began to notice something.  Every time I read something, it would put me back in the negative place I had been before.  I would feel like the wound was fresh, the anger was justified, and I would stew over it for a while.

I made the decision to stop reading certain blogs, following certain tweeters, and I unsubscribed from some people’s Facebook feeds.  I cannot get myself to delete most people from Facebook.  I would feel too guilty.  I think I’ve only ever unfriended two people ever, but they were definitely not friends, and they went out of their way to show it.  Anyway, I cut off ties to negative people.  I stopped feeding that part of my flesh.  And you know what?  I missed it at first.  I would think about going to blogs just to see what was going on, but I would stop myself.  As time went by, I stopped missing it.  I don’t like being upset, anymore.

Who in your life is causing you to always think negatively?  Who in your life is causing you to sin in your mind?  Are you in a position that you could lovingly tell them to shape up, as one of my mentors did for me?  If not, maybe it’s time, as the new year rolls in, to stop listening to that person. Stop reading their material. Start focusing on those things that build you up, draw you closer to God, and make you a better person.

Philippians 4:8, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

One thing we’ve been dying for him to say is, “I love you.”  He’s known it was a good phrase since he was just a little baby.  I have a picture of him in my office – taken by  Sunshine & Daisies Photography – with him smiling in response to my saying, “I love you,” to him. He wouldn’t smile for the photographer, so I leaned over him, made eye contact, and I told him that I loved him.  His face lit up.  He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it was a positive phrase he had heard 100 times a day for the two and a half months he’d been around.  We figured that we had said it so much that it would have been one of his very first things to say.  It wasn’t.

On Tuesday, I asked Jakob who my buddy was.  He pointed to himself.  I asked him who his buddy was.  He pointed to me and said, “buddy!”  Then he kept saying buddy over and over.  This is a common “game” we play.  I thought maybe he was in a talkative mood, so I would try to teach him to say, “love.”  It was better than nothing.  So I asked him, “Jakob, who does Daddy love?”  He said, “Mommy!”  What a smart boy.  I agreed that I did love his mommy, but then I asked again, “But who else does Daddy love?”  He pointed at himself and said, “love!”  I asked him who he loved, and he pointed at me, touching my chest with his finger, and he yelled, “love!”  It was his first “I love you,” but it is something that has been repeated non-stop all week by Sarah and me.

5.  Receiving my first pairs of boxer shorts in 6th grade.  Yes, that was a biggie and worthy of top 5 placement.  I knew from gym class that I was about the only boy in 6th grade without them, and I did get picked on.  So I asked for some for Christmas, and I got a black with white polkadot pair and a white/black/purple/green striped pair.  See how they stand out in my mind?  I remember being excited to get to the locker room, so everyone could see how cool I was.  I also remember realizing before I got to gym class that this was the weirdest thing ever, and I probably shouldn’t be excited about people seeing my undies.

4.  Getting a teal scooter for my first grade Christmas.  Scooters were so cool back then.  They weren’t little razor thin scooters with sleek tires.  They had mountain bike thick tires.  I was so pumped to ride it, but it was winter in Detroit, so I had to ride it for several months around the basement.  I would pretend to do tricks, but really, I just pulled up on the handle bars, lifting only the front tire for a moment, and then went back down again.  But the sound effects made it seem more extreme.

3.  Seeing my entire family for Christmas in 2006.  It had been a while since I had seen everyone – we were living in Florida, Dan was living in Texas, and I think Steve was in Seattle then, but I’m not sure – so finally getting to see all of my siblings, nieces and nephews was great.  It was another 5 years before everyone was in town all at the same time again.  It’s hard with family spread out  in various states.

2.  Our first Christmas with Jakob.  Here’s his first time hearing the Christmas story.

1.  The day Sarah allegedly said, “yes.”  I asked her to marry me on Christmas day in 2000, and she says she said it, but I never heard it.  We’re still disputing over that, but since we are married, it’s a fairly inconsequential battle.

Our Christmas program touched on this a little. All of the noise around Christmas – the shopping, the food, seeing family, traveling, etc. – can and does tend to drown out the primary reason. We celebrate Christmas because Jesus came here to die for us. We give gifts, celebrate with family, and have parties to commemorate this fact. It is not something that should be thrown in as an aside. It is the main course of our celebration, and we shouldn’t negligently relegate it to side dish status.

We have a tradition in our home, carried on from the tradition in my home growing up. For us, we get up Christmas morning, and before we eat breakfast or open a single present, we read the Christmas story together. For now, we read it from Jakob’s Jesus Storybook Bible. We also take time between Thanksgiving and Christmas to give something up that we are thankful for, just as Christ gave up everything to come here. Sometimes that’s hard. Sometimes we slip a little. But the point is focusing on being grateful.

What can you do to amplify your gratefulness and your focus on Jesus coming here to die for you?

The most extreme time for any outsider fan is when your team is slotted to play the local favorite in a bowl game.  You will hear for a solid month about how bad your team is and how badly they will perform.  When Michigan was scheduled to play Florida in the 2008 Outback Bowl, things got started quickly.  My boss quickly pointed out that Michigan had never even beaten an SEC team, which was inaccurate.  He demanded an example, so I pointed to the last time they had played Florida in a bowl game.  Michigan won.  That didn’t stifle it, though.  I was a youth pastor, and I was subjected to cracks about Michigan every Sunday morning and evening service leading up to the game.  Many of those jokes came from behind the pulpit, whether during a sermon or announcements.  I’m slightly surprised the music pastor didn’t get involved by making the choir sing THIS SONG.  (<– warning: this song is offensive to people who don’t like “the D word” or love the state of Michigan).

The day finally came, and Michigan did beat Florida.  I was one happy youth pastor.  I wore a different Michigan shirt every day that week, and I moved my Michigan flag from my wall to hanging over my office door.  This was a brilliant move, because everybody who visited our school would see it, and most people that came to church would see it.  But then I showed up on the Sunday morning immediately following the game, and my flag was gone.  It had been taken by my boss.  I was replaced on the morning duty sheet by someone else giving announcements.  I approached my boss and asked what the big deal was.  His answer?  ”You just can’t talk about football during church.  It doesn’t lend to worship.  And we know you’ll say something.”  What?  I had been to 8 straight church services where college football had been mentioned.  It seemed okay when they were doing it, but it was no longer okay when it was my turn.  They took my flag, and they took my voice.

And to say that I couldn’t behave myself and not mention the game while giving announcements?  That’s crazy.  Our pastor was sick, and I had to take over duties that same Sunday night, and I didn’t say one word about the game from the stage.  I did, however, rope a teenager into playing a CD I had given him as I was walking up on stage.  I just let “Hail to the Victors” play out while I stood on stage and smiled.  But I didn’t say one word, because that wouldn’t have been conducive to worship.

It is my goal that Jakob could be just like me and be incredibly close to being like Jesus.  I want to live a life that is pleasing to God.  I want to be constantly moving in His direction, growing more and more like Him as the days go by.  Why?  Well, I used to want to live out my Christian life to impress my parents and people at church.  As I grew, my priorities began shifting.  I started to seek out God for my own good.  I wanted to please God, and when I felt I that I was accomplishing that, it gave me a sense of worth. But lately, my priorities have shifted again.  I still want to please God.  That’s still my primary motivation.  It is a desire in my own heart, and I do feel a sense of worth when I feel like I’m accomplishing that, but it is no longer my only motivation.  I also want to live a life pleasing to God, so that Jakob will learn from me how that’s done.

As Jakob grows and wrestles with his faith and how to live a proper life, I want to be able to repeatedly give him the same advice.  No matter where he’s at, I want to be able to listen to his questions, look him in the eye, and say, “Imitate me, as I also imitate Christ.”  Do I think I can say that right now?  Not in every area, no.  Is it feasible to get there?  I think so.  Paul got there.  That isn’t a quote original to me.  It’s actually a direct quote of 1 Corinthians 11:1.

So here’s my question to you: if your kids imitate you, are they also imitating Christ?  If not, who are you teaching them to imitate?

The above picture is a picture of me pretending to put together Jakob’s bed.  From the looks of things, had I been working on it, I would have put the hammer right through the part of the frame.  I don’t usually participate in the putting together of things with “some assembly required.”  It’s not that I can’t put together a toddler bed, an entertainment center, or whatever.  I can.  I just move very slowly and get frustrated fairly easily.

Sarah, on the other hand, loves putting things together, and she likes showing off that she can do so without instructions.  It started when she was in her wheelchair.  We got a new TV, so we got a new entertainment center to put it on.  She mentioned that she wished she could put the entertainment center together, so I told her to go ahead.  She wasn’t feeling the most handicapable at that time, so she wasn’t confident she could do it.  I helped down onto the floor, though, and I encouraged her.  She sat there, and I handed her piece by piece as she assembled it.  From then on, she became the one to put stuff together, unless it was too huge and needed my burly muscles.  I have no idea why she enjoys it, but she does, and I’m content to let her do it.

This is what things being put together at our home really looks like.

I got to experience this last night.  I just wasn’t feeling well.  It came out of nowhere, and it had the potential to make the end of my evening terrible.  I laid down on the couch, because I wanted to try to stay up and spend time with Sarah and Jakob, even if I wasn’t the most pleasant company.  Jakob started out playing and jumping and smacking the couch, but I asked him to stop, because I didn’t feel well.  He then started bringing me toys.  I thought he was continuing to try to get me to play.  He brought me a drumstick, an Easter bunny noise maker, and one of his Toy Story action figures.  Each time he brought me a toy, I said thank you and tossed it back into his toy pile.  Finally, he brought me Jonny, his Pillow Pet.  This is his most special possession, and nobody gets to play with Jonny.  But he brought it to me and put it under my arm.

After a little while, I got up and went to bed.  I knew I wasn’t going to feel better enough to play until I got some sleep.  Jakob followed me to my room.  He crawled up in the bed and laid down by me.  I thought he was just wanting to watch TV in there.  But he didn’t.  He sat up, with his back up against my stomach, and he started rubbing his hand gently on my arm.  He gave me a hug and said, “Aww,” which he does when he knows he’s being sweet.  He last fifteen minutes, going between sitting by me and laying down by me.  He eventually left, but he left me his Pillow Pet, which he slid under my arm again before he left.

I misjudged what he was doing twice.  First, I thought he was persistently trying to get me to play, when he was just trying to bring me different things to make me feel better.  Second, I thought he wanted to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the TV in our bedroom.  Both times, he was just trying to take care of me.  He’s such an awesome boy.