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...

Did you know that when people sing together, their heartbeats synchronize?

I learned this little fact last week while listening to an interview with Voxus Experience founder Davin Young.

Young said that when people sing together, they breathe together. Breathing controls the pulse. So when everyone breathes together, their hearts eventually beat together as well.

That got me thinking: What if we got all of us together–left, right, and center–in the public square for a big singalong? We could sing all the songs we know and love together: America the Beautiful, Take Me Out to the Ballgame, Don’t Stop Believin’, Sweet Caroline.

Or what if we got all of us together–left, right, and center–to build a block of Habitat for Humanity homes? Do you think we could work side-by-side as a team to get that done? I do.

What if all of us–left, right, and center–got together every week to play...

We can get along in this country even if we don’t really get along.

How do I know?

My wife and I have not been getting along for almost 11 years. We don’t agree on money. We don’t agree on religion. We don’t agree on sports teams.

We don’t even agree on how or whether to disagree (imagine having a disagreement about whether or not to call it a disagreement!).

And we sleep together every night!

I’m not talking about sleeping in matching twin beds. I’m talking about snuggling and spooning.

We raise a son. We keep up with two houses and two vehicles. We throw parties for our family and friends.

We manage life together and we still have fun.

I am crazy about my wife and madly in love with her even though some of the things she does/says/thinks seem crazy and mad to me.

I’m just thankful she doesn’t have a blog to write about my craziness/madness.

What we’ve learned after all...

I had a head cold this week.

I was tired all the time. The crud in my head (or was it the drugs in my bloodstream?) gummed up alertness, creativity, and lucidity. My head ached. My nose dripped. My throat felt like I swallowed safety glass.

Today I woke up and felt normal.

Which is to say I felt great.

Because “normal” feels so good after a few days of “abnormal.”

How many days do we wake up and gripe to others or ourselves?

We gripe about the weather.

We gripe about having to get out of bed.

We gripe about what we have for breakfast.

We gripe about the commute.

We gripe about our job.

We gripe about what a drag it is to put up with our lives each day.

We gripe about “normal.”

And then God gives us the gift of “abnormal” to remind us that “normal” is amazing. “Normal” is a blessed privilege. “Normal” is not to be taken for granted. “Normal” is to be celebrated...