Holy Eucharist on a Saturday night.

The congregation: Our friends, Laura and Matt. Artists and bums and hipsters and students and tourists. City dwelling twenty somethings and Baby Boomer suburbanites. Baristas and drunk strangers and parking lot attendants and waiters.

The feast: Pint of stout. Filet mignon. Flash fried brussels sprouts. Crispy fries. Espresso and ice cream.

The sanctuary: A garage-turned-art gallery on a Hamtramck side street. A restaurant in Midtown. A coffee house on Woodward Avenue. And all the sidewalks and streets in between. That big, vernal sky flying above us like a cathedral.

The sermon: Matt Bandsuch telling the stories of the depths of each of his paintings. The parking lot attendant spreading the gospel of how his city is changing for the better. Listening to Laura and Matt talk about their the glory and monotony, the elation and tragedy of their...

Observation: American Christians (like me) plan and pray for lots of stuff.

Two examples.

The first is the most intense period of prayer I recall from my youth. Our church prayed for at least two or three years for a new building or money to build a new building.

The second is current (and a little embarrassing). I’ve been making plans for upgrading our deck. You know: New furniture, lights, paint, etc. Maybe a fire feature and an outdoor projection unit for movies in the moonlight.

As I mature in Christian faith and practice, examples like these seem more odd and out of place.

In the first example, our church needed a new building because we outgrew the one we were in. We needed a bigger building so more people could grow along with a growing congregation.

People were the point of needing a new church building.

I don’t recall that our language reflected that. Our focus was...

We have to master faith and gratitude and joy the same way we master cooking and golf and writing.

That’s actually a scientific fact now. A recent study shows that negative experiences imprint on our brains instantly. In order for positive experiences to make permanent impressions on our brains, we have to be intentional about holding them in our minds for at least 15 seconds.

What that means: Experiences are always–quite literally–changing the wiring in our brains. Negative experiences are wiring our brains for doubt, paranoia, suspicion, and worry. The change to our brain is instantaneous when we have a negative experience.

Positive experiences wire our brains for faith, hope, and love. Unlike negative experiences, however, we have to hold the positive experience in our mind. We have to meditate on it. Savor it.

Am I noticing my 3-year old using his toys to build an elaborate...

How much energy, money, and time do I spend on looking good?

How about you?

Your daily routine is likely similar to mine: Shower, shave, brush teeth, style hair, moisturize, and pick out clothes (sometimes trying on several outfits).

That’s just the morning routine.

How many times during the day do you look in the mirror? And when you can’t look in the mirror, how many times do you wonder what you would see if you could?

What about browsing or shopping for clothes? We used to have to go to the mall. Now we can shop at our desks. I admit that I do. What about you?

It’s not just our bodies either. How much energy, money, and time do we spend making our cars and homes look good? How much energy and time do we spend making our online selves look good?

Humility is virtue. Insecurity is not.

In fact, I’m convicted more and more that my insecurity is selfish. Vain.

It’s fodder...

I love Michigan weather.

I love the seasons here. The wild unpredictability of each day.

Today is Friday, April 8. The Detroit Tigers open their home baseball season. Easter was almost two weeks ago. Flowers are popping up through the ground. I’ve been wearing pink again.

And an inch of snow covers the rooftops as I look out the front window.

The weather report predicts up to three inches of snow today.

I’m not bracing for the wintry blast. I’m bracing for the complaining and whining I’m sure to hear all day.

People in Michigan (of all places) seem to believe the weather is supposed to respond to their schedules and their whims as if they’re clicking the TV remote control.

It’s like God is a short-order cook.

“Hey, God! It’s Tigers Opening Day. What the hell is this snow? I ordered seventy and sunshine. I want my money back.”

Oh, you paid for today? You paid for the air and...

It’s alarming how much I appraise people in terms of their potential emotional, financial, or social value to me.

Even after so many times that I got the icky feeling that someone was befriending me just to exploit me.

Even after all these years training my heart and mind to conform to the heart and mind of Jesus Christ–who never exhibited even a whiff a guile.

It’s fear that fuels this compulsion to size up people in terms of what they can do for me.

Fear that if I don’t play, I might get played.

Fear that if I don’t take, I might get taken.

Fear that love is a nice idea, but it won’t work in my workaday world.

Does anyone think that treating people like investment instruments is right? Or that it will make us into the human beings we want to be? Or that it will bring out the best in other human beings? Or that it will make the world the kind of place where we want our...

Resurrection is all around us all the time.

It’s buds on the trees and flowers coming up through the soil every spring.

It’s the New Moon every month.

It’s the sun rising every morning.

We choose resurrection–practice it–daily in our lives.

When we get out of bed and go at it one more time.

When we give it–whatever it is–another try.

When we renew a relationship by reconciliation or reunion or both.

Did you ever think about how just the act of greeting your family at the bathroom sink or at the breakfast table in the morning is a little resurrection?

Resurrection is the pattern of nature.

Resurrection is the pattern of our lives.

Look for it. See it. Believe it.

Thank God for it.

And go live it again.

About a year ago, I started the habit of keeping a daily journal.

One of the most important parts of that routine is giving each day a “happiness score” on a scale of high to low.

It’s a subjective score that reflects how I feel about what I did that day. After a year of this habit, it’s becoming clear to me what makes a day “good” in my mind.

Before I share that, please let me share what seems to make a day “bad”:

Time without structure.

Is that as interesting and surprising to you as it has been for me?

Days with no deadlines, meetings, obligations, or plans end up being unhappy, unproductive days that end with regret and sometimes shame.

“Good days,” however, focus on goals and move through a plan that I set in advance. Deadlines, meetings, and obligations actually help. I go through the day with drive and focus.

The kind of deadlines, meetings, and obligations make a...

Limits are gifts of great value.

I used to treat sleep as optional. “I’ll just go without sleep this week” were words that frequently came from my mouth.

My body argued a little (20s) and then protested (30s). As I was approaching 40, my body had it’s way: I will sleep at least 6.4 hours per night or else.

The “or else” is shuffling around all day, eyes drooping, head throbbing, unable to concentrate or produce anything of much value.

My body’s limit is improving the quality of my life a great deal. For the last six months, I’ve been averaging 6.4 hours of sleep per night (no alarm) and I feel great. The quality of my life and work is improving dramatically.

The limit is a gift.

We don’t tend to like limits because they force us to make hard choices.

In my case, my body’s limit on waking hours is forcing me to choose sleep. Which means I’m choosing not to do other activities...

It’s easy to say I want to be smart, but do I put my mind under the strain it takes to make it so?

It’s easy to say I want to be healthful and strong. Do I put my body through the pain it takes to make it so?

It’s easy to say I want to be successful. Do I put myself through the repeated failure and setbacks it takes to make it so?

It’s easy to say I want intimacy. Do I expose myself to heartbreak and vulnerability to make it so?

It’s easy to say I want faith. Do I do the good, but irrational-looking and scary things that make it so?