Not in the sense of “The One Who Got Away.”

More like your own personal “Golden Age.”

Anthropology and scientific research proves that we all do it: Long for a golden yesteryear when everything was better, everything was right.

Being part of my son growing up (he’s three years old now) is causing frequent flashbacks to my own boyhood.

For just an instant, I’m back there again. Trying out my new swing set in the big, sunny yard behind the yellow house on Revere Road in Akron, Ohio. My parents are there: Flush with the confidence and energy of newlyweds starting out in life.

The memory feels like warm gold.

And then it cuts like a knife. Those people and that place are gone forever, fading like the signal from a satellite moving beyond the solar system.

Grief–it has to be grief–is the aftertaste of the sweetest memory.

You have memories like this. Sometimes you visit them. As...

And it is your fear.

You want to know your calling in general or particular?

Do you want to know who you are supposed to be?

Where is the fear most intense?

That’s where you must go to meet God and realize all your potential in life.

I suffered my first panic attack in December 1994. Extreme anxiety and panic are as much a part of life for me as allergies and weight control.

As much as anxiety and panic are miserable companions, they are excellent teachers if you are willing to listen and observe.

Fear is useful for keeping us safe from real danger: Cigarettes, reckless driving, unprotected sex with strangers, etc.

But our brain does not know the difference between perceived danger and real danger. It releases the same fight-or-flight chemicals whether it’s an attractive female or an F5 tornado approaching.

And this is where fear shows us the way we must go and teaches us who...

Confession, forgiveness, and reconciliation have nothing to do with morals.

God is not interested in morals. He’s interested in you.

The people who love you don’t love you for your morals. They love you for you.

When our conscience makes us feel guilty, it is we who separate ourselves (emotionally, mentally, physically) from the love of God and the people who love us. That love does not change or go away when we sin.

In fact, if we have the courage to give it a chance, love actually moves toward us when we’re at our worst.

Confession is that courage to let love in.

Morals just get in the way.

Thousands (or more) people are fasting and praying for Sierra Shields.

She is a 30-year old Christian ministry graduate student and a resident of New York City. She disappeared without a trace on January 14.

The church to which I belong cares deeply for Sierra. Her brother is our minister of worship. Many members of our congregation are Sierra’s personal friends or one-time schoolmates at Rochester College.

You could say that praying for Sierra’s safe return is at the top of the “trending” list at church. It was the unofficial theme of our Sunday morning worship gathering this week.

This got me thinking.

The 20 days since Sierra disappeared feel desperate, empty, terrible.

Perhaps because her absence is not something we chose and her return appears to be out of our control.

But what about the people whose absence we could change and whose return is completely within our...

Living life–your best life, your truest life–really comes down to facing your fear.

What frightens you most?

It’s the door to everything you desire most.

Sad, but true: Most people waste their lives avoiding their fears or trying to manage them.

“…the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it.”

Faith is running headlong toward the scariest thing and coming through it with a hope that is out of this world and love that is unstoppable.

“Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it.”

Admitting what you fear and owning it is the first step.

My three-year old, Daniel, woke up at 6 a.m. this morning.

That happens to be the middle of my reading/reflection/writing time.

He wanted to watch Disney Junior. I turned on the TV and turned to go back upstairs to my writing corner.

He called out to me: “Dad, I want to sit on your lap. I want you to watch a show with me.”

I didn’t want to watch ‘Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.’ I wanted to write.

On a dime, I headed back to the couch and let Daniel curl up on my lap.

This morning, I wrote. Not on a computer screen or page, but on my son’s heart and in his memory.

Whether or not you consider yourself a writer, you ARE writing every day.

Every person with whom you have contact has a big (or small) part of their personal story that comes from you.

The question is not IF you will write, but HOW and WHAT and for WHOM.

It’s more than nude pictures and sex videos online.

It’s any fake thing that takes the place of the real thing.

It’s spending an hour a day reading sports websites (guilty) instead of going out and living like a champion myself (so hard I’m afraid I might fail).

It’s the empty calories of a big cookie and hot chocolate at 2 p.m. in the afternoon (guilty) instead of eating an apple, drinking some tea, and going for a walk (which would actually make me feel better).

It’s hanging out in my inbox for 90 minutes at a time (guilty) instead of going out and finding new clients face-to-face (afraid they might reject me).

It’s watching an hour of TV with my wife every night (guilty) instead of having deep conversations (might be misunderstanding).

It’s going to church religiously (guilty) instead of giving away all that own to the poor, holding dirty and sick people close to my heart...

Your time is running out and you cannot, cannot, cannot get more.

The things you do to “get more time” (an illusion or an outright lie) may decrease the quality of the time you have left.

It’s the law of diminishing returns. You waste more time trying to find time that is impossible to find because your life on this earth is finite.

Could it be that what you’re doing to “make more time” (either today or at the end of your life) is just a way to avoid doing what you know you should be doing right now?

And what is that?

It’s not doing more chores and working more hours.

Do you want to know what you should be doing with the time you have right now? Ask yourself: What am I afraid to do?

Dance? Paint? Sing? Travel? Write?

Love somebody like I’ve never loved anybody before?

Let someone love me like I’ve never been loved before?

Reconcile with someone who lost my love (or...

Yesterday, I found out my dreams have come true.

I made it to 40.

I’m married to a loving, loyal, and interesting–pardon the expression–MILF. And she’ll eventually forgive me for writing that.

My son is a fantastic little boy with who alternately likes to bodyslam me like a 33-pound WWE wrestler or curl up in my lap like a puppy dog.

Beautiful, connected, educated, influential, popular people want to hang out with me.

I earn a living doing work I love with a growing and profitable company I started myself.

I belong to an excellent church that manages to suit my conservative upbringing and liberal tendencies at the same time.

I own a nice home within walking distance of a trendy little downtown in suburban Detroit.

My Starbucks card automatically reloads itself when the balance drops below $10.

My life is everything I dreamed and hoped and prayed it would be when I was...

It turns out faith is a hell of thing.

When I was young, it was listening to worship music under an open sunroof.

It was a five-finger kind of thing that I could practice on a Friday afternoon.

It was daydreaming about how I would change the world for God while growing handsome, popular, and rich (and having lots of great sex).

It was knowing my prayers were a divine “On Demand” button.

I got older. I lived through some stuff (with more to come, I know).

Faith is darker, edgier, makes less sense.

It’s outreached hands groping the empty space before blind eyes.

It’s clinging to heavenly driftwood in an ocean of hell.

It’s climbing a mountain to get to the moon.