I’ve called the month after our son was born my “personal Vietnam” (I beg the pardon of my father-in-law and anyone who served in the real Vietnam).

In those 30 days, I brought two strangers home to a house that was itself a stranger to me: We moved in just a week before our son was born. I didn’t know this new person whose carrying on and crying seemed to synchronize to the times I needed to sleep. My wife who came home from the hospital–her body exhausted and wounded and her mind awash in strange hormones–was not the same woman I took there a few days earlier.

As I cared for my convalescing wife and my newborn son in that strange new house, I wished for the days to speed by quickly. All I wanted was to get back to something that felt familiar, normal.

Those days coincided with the changing of the seasons from summer to fall. Each day, the evening came a little sooner. I got to...

Grandeur is not the standard for the greatest good we can do.

A sloppy crayon-on-paper drawing from my four-year old son is worth infinitely more to me than the masterwork of an accomplished artist.

Give me a choice between a hundred dollar bill or a compliment, a hug, a kind word, or a smile and I’ll let you keep your money every time.

I think most of us would choose the same.

A small kindness that seems no better than dropping a nickel in a beggar’s cup may be worth a million dollars if it changes the course of his life.

Tipping the scale just a little toward kindness today may be the ounce that turns someone away from death and back towards life.

Today, you will meet people who are barely keeping their nose above their addiction, boredom, confusion, depression, disappointment, doubt, exhaustion, fear, heartbreak, hopelessness, loneliness, regret, or shame.

Sending just one...

The situation in Washington, D.C., could serve us all well for the next generation. We are seeing the logical end of hyper-partisanship or what I’m calling “being right to the exclusion of others.”

What does that mean?

It means two things.

First, it means that I believe only one of us can be right. One of us has to be wrong. Put another way: Rightness can only be on the side of one. If rightness is on my side, then it cannot be on my opponent’s side in the least. There is black and there is white. There is no gray area. So I work to ensure that I’m right or that rightness is on my side. My opponent must either agree with me or be all wrong. Compromise is impossible because “right” does not make deals with “wrong,” right?

Second, it means that I cannot and will not share any credit for success with you. If I believe I am right and you are wrong, anything we accomplish together may...

America needs to get into recovery and it starts here.

If you’re familiar with the Twelve Steps, you know Step One: “We admitted we were powerless over our addiction to _________________.”

The other day, I was thinking about what it would be like to run for office on a centrist/unity platform. This seems like something that would work. After all, Americans claim to be fed up with the extreme antics of both parties.

As I thought about running on that centrist/unity platform, however, I concluded that it would not work.

Why?

Because Americans are addicted to anger and fear.

And anger and fear are the rocket fuel that propel political ambitions.

I don’t have a Gallup poll or scientific study to prove my point.

I know, however, how angry I get when I read the news. Sometimes my anger borders on outrage.

And I’m the guy who is constantly preaching “blessed are the peacemakers”...

My fellow Christians (in America):

I invite you to join me in confessing that dogma (the agreed-upon and widely-held doctrine of the church) and policy (actions and principles of those in charge of the government) are convenient excuses for you and I to do nothing.

I invite you to to join me in confessing that in talking about dogma and policy, we fall for the illusion that we are actually doing something.

It sounds good and noble to say we “spoke out” or “stood up” for what is right. But what do we really mean when we say we “spoke out” or “stood up”? That we argued with someone on Facebook? That we sat around with some like-minded friends to cheer for “us” and slander “them”?

Our Christ reminds us that we cannot outsource our Christianity. Holding the “right” opinion on dogma and policy amounts to nothing. Voting for the “right” candidate is the very least we can do. Talking...

I’ve been to a few 12-step meetings in my time. It’s been about 15 years since I last snuck into one.

What I remember most about those meetings is a line I heard people say several times a meeting: “Keep coming back.”

I think that’s the formula.

I don’t know if we all have addictive or compulsive sins in our lives.

I know I do.

It’s frustrating: I know the damage my compulsion does to myself and to others. And yet…I keep going back to it.

I keep going back.

“Keep coming back.”

Like I said: I think that’s the formula.

It’s math: For as many times as we go back to our sins, do we come back to a place of grace and kindness?

Do we eventually come back to that place of grace and kindness more than we go back to our sins?

If we make it a habit to “keep coming back” weekly, daily, hourly, by the minute, how much time do we have to go back to our sins?

A couple of weeks ago...

One of my best friends is a monster. He’s also a saint.

He’s an alcoholic and sex addict whose sins did irreparable damage to his family, friends, and himself.

He and I would both like to say he is beyond all that now.

We can’t.

And we never will.

What we know about the human brain–or what the ancient Christian apostle Paul calls the “sinful nature”–is that it is like a river. Our actions and thoughts form habits, which are like channels for water (behaviors, thoughts, etc.) to follow. Those channels cut in deep, like a river that carves a canyon over many thousands of years. Once the canyon is there, it will never go away.

The best you can hope to do is keep your life from flowing down that channel anymore.

And anyone who knows anything about controlling how water flows knows how damn near impossible it is to do that.

On my friend’s mind–literally in his brain–there is a...

Only cranks and curmudgeons care about what you oppose.

Most people want to know what you’re for.

And what they really want to know is: Are you for them?

Not their politics. Not their religion. Not their stance on an issue.

Them. As fellow human beings struggling with the same fears, shortcomings, and weaknesses with which you struggle.

If you’re for them, how will they know if all they know about you is what you oppose? Or if what you say you are for makes it convenient and easy for you to avoid actually having a relationship with them?

What does humanity need now?

More opponents and proponents?

Or more friends and neighbors?

Make the courageous choice.

One of my all-time favorite movies is ‘Office Space,’ which coined the phrase: “A bad case of the Mondays.”

Evidence supports the belief that Mondays are the worst day of the week for most people.

The research shows that two things combine to make Monday seem so awful to most people. The first is how deeply most people dislike their jobs. For example, only a fraction of Americans report job satisfaction or workplace engagement.

The second is that Monday doesn’t represent a beginning to most people; it represents an end: An end to the family, freedom, and fun of Friday through Sunday night.

A third bonus reason: Human beings are creatures of pattern and routine. Any break in the rhythm of life has negative effects on our bodies and minds. Since most people eat rather poorly, relax some of their daily routines, and sleep a lot more on weekends, Monday jolts the system. The body...

Like 680,000 other people here in the Motor City, a windstorm knocked out our power four days ago.

We spent the first two nights of the power outage at home. We had neither heat nor light, but we built a big fire and slept together in the same bed to keep warm. In the mornings, the shower was still hot, but getting dressed and letting our hair air dry was not.

In the mornings, we got out of the house as quickly as we could to seek warm food in warm places. In the evenings, we came home as late as possible to shorten the amount of time we would have to be awake in the freezing darkness. All three of us got colds.

The last two nights of the power outage, we stayed at a local hotel. It sounded a lot better than two more nights in what felt like a tomb.

Ever stayed in a hotel room with a four-year old? We had heat, light, and takeout, but we had very little relaxation and even less...