In the Zone

A few years ago, I begrudgingly did what I hate doing. It was Thanksgiving Day, and in the middle of the first football game, I had to leave to go with my father-in-law to pick up something from the local Big Lots.  Apparently, they had bought a new bed and it was available to pick-up that day.  We were in town, so I got drafted for duty. It pained me to go to the store.  I hated it and I wanted no part of it.  I also wanted to be a dutiful son-in-law so I swallowed my pride and went to the store. Nothing of great consequence happened.  We picked up the bed and he bought something else while he was there.  But deep down, I felt sick.  I knew by shopping on Thanksgiving Day I would become a statistic that would lead to a trend.  Already, I saw stores creeping ever closer to being open on Thanksgiving Day. Now, as Thanksgiving approaches, stores everywhere are open starting at 6 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day.  Our national day to pause, pray and give thanks to the Lord has now becom

I faced a critical choice on my summer missions assignment after my senior year of college. I served on the Florida Reach Team, which was a group of teams made up of four college students that traveled the state of Florida assisting churches each week.  Some weeks we ran vacation Bible school.  Other weeks we canvassed communities.  At one church, we even participated (and preached) in the revival services. Well, a few weeks into my service, I wanted to quit.  I had never been away from home, and this was my third week.  Believe it or not, especially in my younger years, I could be hard to get along with.  I was somewhat shy.  That made making friends difficult.  Now, three weeks in my with team (and seven more to go), I struggled with my place. I sat alone in a room, having felt shut out again from my teammates' activities.  The other three got along great.  I felt out of place.  I didn't feel appreciated, welcome or even considered part of the team.  So I contemplated

When I was in high school, I prayed selfishly.  I lay in bed and offered up my "wish list" to God, often specifically listing what I wanted him to do. I wanted a nice car, a girlfriend, good grades, and to go to college.  And not just any college either.  I wanted to go to a college far away from home, or at least as far as I could afford. Every night, just like clockwork, I would pray for the same things over and over and over again.  I would get specific with God.  I wanted an 'A' on a paper.  I wanted to date a particular girl.  I wanted to go to any school but Northern Kentucky University, which was the local college literally 15 minutes down the expressway. It was always about me and rarely about anyone else and especially not about what God wanted.  Oh, sure, I'd frame it that way.  I remember praying, "Lord, send me to whatever school you want me to attend. I trust you. But please send me anywhere but NKU.  Lord I want to go away to school.  Plea

I walked into the church on what I assumed was a typical Sunday morning. I don't know what I expected, but I certainly didn't expect this.  The building, which had always been a bigger church in the community, sat nearly empty.  On the first few pews, a small gathered group of people met for worship. My wife and I were greeted as we sat down for worship.  The pastor got up and introduced us to the 30 or so people in the room.  It felt awkward. You see, a week or so prior, the pastor had approached me, out of the blue, about becoming the youth pastor of the church.  There would be a very small part-time salary, but not much else and not much in the way of resources.  He didn't know it, but God has been working on me about ministry.  It seemed like a divine moment. Until I got to the church.  Immediately, upon seeing the small group of people, I realized something wasn't right.  I couldn't put my finger on it, but I sensed this church was not doing well.  Su