There will be a couple of “business items” at the end of this blog post. I hope you stick around to read them. Now, on to my thoughts for the day…

I started making lists of goals and to-dos in high school.

Each New Year’s Day, I would write out my goals for the year and make a plan to achieve them. On the first of each month, I would revise the goals and the plan. Each week, I would make a to-do list and I would update it each day of the week.

My goals were big and manifold. My to-do lists were pages long. And I’m just talking about goals and to-do lists for a single day.

I got out of control.

At one point in my adult life, I could spend up to two hours each morning making a three- or four-page to-do list for the day.

Can you imagine the depression, discouragement, and shame that came from that daily exercise? By the time I was done planning the day, I had two fewer hours to...

What places in the world are most important, most meaningful, and most precious to you?

The Sistine Chapel or your own local house of worship?

Pennsylvania Avenue or the street where you live?

The Four Seasons or your own home?

The French Laundry or your own kitchen table?

What makes a place important, meaningful, and valuable is not its fame, Michelin stars, or price of admission. What makes a place special is the people who gather there.

It’s the little church where generations gather for funerals, potlucks, vacation Bible schools, and weddings.

It’s the block where neighbors host block parties, take evening walks, and visit over backyard fences.

It’s the modest home where children grow up and the family gathers for birthdays, Christmas, graduation parties, Thanksgiving, and wakes.

It’s the old kitchen table where thousands and thousands of family meals take place.

In the...

“I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”–Jesus Christ (Gospel of Matthew 18.3).

As I age, I notice something changing about the way I see life.

When I was young in my faith, I said: “Anything can happen!”

Now I find myself muttering more and more: “That won’t ever happen.”

When I was young in my faith, I said: “Expect great things!”

Now I find myself cautioning: “Don’t expect much.” Or worse: “What did you expect?”

When I was young in my faith, I said: “Let’s try! If it’s worth God loving, it’s worth our doing.”

Now I find myself shrugging: “It’s really not worth bothering.”

When I was young in my faith, I said: “God will meet all our needs! He cares for us!”

Now I find myself yawning: “God cares for those who care for themselves.”

When I was young in my faith, I said: “Anyone can change!”

Now I find...

If you know your Bible stories, answer this question for me: Name one person–just one–who really got who Jesus was and what he was all about.

A few candidates (with Bible references so you can go read the stories):

The woman who had been bleeding for 12 years and touched the fringe of Jesus’s cloak (Matthew 9.20-22, Mark 5.25-34, Luke 8.43-48).

The Gentile woman who begged Jesus to heal her daughter (Matthew 15.21-28, Mark 7.24-30).

The Roman centurion whose slave was at the point of death, but wouldn’t allow Jesus to enter his home (Matthew 8.5-13, Luke 7.1-10).

The Samaritan woman Jesus met at a well (John 4.4-26) is another candidate.

The Gerasene demoniac who lived among tombs near a herd of swine (Mark 5.1-17, Luke 8.26-37).

The “sinful woman” who anointed Jesus’s feet (Luke 7.36-50).

The Greeks who asked Philip if they could see Jesus (John 12.20-21).

Three things...

Success is a danger to our souls.

What is success? Who defines it? When do you know you have it?

I’ll confess to you what success means to me: Money, popularity, and power.

How much money, popularity, and power?

I’ll confess to you: More. Always more.

What will I do to get more money, popularity, and power?

How much will it cost? In energy? Relationships? Time?

What if I don’t have any clue about how to get more money, popularity, and power? Then I can just spend what money and time I have fantasizing about it. I can plan constantly. I can talk big. On a little screen, I can spend hours watching people with money, popularity, and power.

What makes money, popularity, and power our gold standard for success? The perception that those things will make us independent, loved, safe, and true to ourselves and what we value.

When you see the words in black and white like this, do...

I don’t think I believe in the devil anymore. At least not the one who could pass for a comic book villain.

But let’s say the devil is real. Let’s say he is the comic book super villain, the “Dark Side of the Force,” God’s archenemy. Let’s say the devil’s mission and purpose is to wreck this world and everyone in it. Let’s say your destruction is his obsession. Yes, you. He’s working overtime to tempt and trick you into self-destruction.

If we say this is true, then here are a couple of other things that must be true, too:

If the devil is bent on destroying the human race, he’s not very good at his job. Of all the people on earth, 0.8 percent die each year. Meanwhile, more than twice that number are born each year.

Or maybe the devil is really good at his job (for evidence, please scan today’s news). But God is just so much better at his job. For every person who dies, 125 live and...

It’s not bad if numbers are useful when answering the question: “What am I going to get out of this?”

Numbers, however, aren’t everything. And they can be misleading.

What are those “likes” and “shares” really worth to you? Do they help you sleep better at night? Do you walk taller?

Maybe you get a ten percent raise in pay. Maybe that ten percent raise in pay comes with 20 percent more stress.

Does a bigger engine with more horsepower mean you will get to your destinations faster? How much longer will you have to work to pay off the loan for those extra horses? You may not have as much time to drive.

If all you’re going to get out of something is a number, you may be reducing your life down to mere existence. Worse, you may be missing life altogether.

After all, how do you quantify beauty, contentment, creativity, joy, love?

And if you cannot quantify it, you cannot buy it...

What makes writer’s block so scary?

Fear of failure. Lack of trust. Pride. Self-containment.

I don’t trust you enough with my limits, shortcomings, and weaknesses.

I’m too proud and vain to be human with you.

I’m choosing to manifest pride and selfishness by isolating myself from you.

In this life of learning how to be faithful, writer’s block manifests itself in other ways:

The relationship I need to repair.

The work I’m afraid to do.

The confession I need to make and the help I need to seek.

The habit I need to form.

The questions I need to ask God.

The things I need to take up (and the things I need to put down).

Writer’s block isn’t really an insurmountable distraction or obstacle that comes from some place we don’t control.

It’s something we conjure so that we have an excuse to not do what we know we need to do right now in this moment.

There’s really only...

Living with an almost four-year old is like living with a three-star chef: He cooks up something authentic, bold, and surprising every day.

At least once a day, my son, Daniel, does something that makes me stop whatever I’m doing and wonder: “How did he come up with that? Where did he learn that?”

I’ve been teaching Daniel how to pray at bedtime. I get down on my knees next to the bed and fold my hands. He gets down on his knees and folds his hands. I say the words. He repeats the words with a few of his own thrown in. He would be one of those people we say is just “going through the motions” as we gossip about him at the restaurant after church.

Until last night.

We were done praying and he was under the covers. I was singing him a goodnight song. Suddenly, he got back out of bed and onto his knees next to me.

“I’m going to say a prayer for Papaw and Mary,” he informed me...

I’m on my way home to the Motor City after a couple of days in the Music City. My dad has cancer and he’s receiving care at Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee. I broke away for three days to be with him and Mom.

My dad can tell you that cancer sucks.

He can also tell you that chemotherapy sucks. He can tell you that the side effects of chemotherapy sucks.

He can tell you that what sucks even more is that he hasn’t even experienced anything close to the worst of it yet.

He can tell you that living in a strange apartment sucks when you’re sick and tired and just want to be home.

He can tell you that it sucks that very few of his family and friends are allowed to visit because his immune system is shut down by the chemo.

Dad can tell you that it sucks to have to think about bills and insurance and money when your life is at stake and you’re miserable all...