If we’re going to raise well-adjusted children who have a shot at doing well in the world, having healthy relationships, and avoiding the toxic temptations of this life, then a good first step is to stop trying to boost their self-esteem.
In today’s list of rules for relationships, “Don’t Settle” ranks close to #1. A quick search will yield thousands of articles, books, and (of course) memes that warn against this pitfall. “4 Reasons Not to Settle in a Relationship.” “9 Signs You’re Settling in a Relationship.” They all beat the same drum.
When we got home from church, Mom would walk in the front door, pull on her apron, and go to work in the kitchen. A little while later, we’d all take our places at the table for the Sunday meal. It might be chicken fried steak. Or baked lasagna. Or hamburgers.
I have a challenge for us modern parents, especially the American variety: let’s stop lying to our children.
Despite 21 centuries worth of trying to tame Jesus into a good-ole-boy savior who walked around the holy land flashing his pearly whites while he did good stuff for people, anyone who’s actually read his story knows that’s as wrong as wrong can be.
When a big change happens in our lives, it takes some time for us to get used to whatever the “new normal” might be.
Did you hear about the man who went to the doctor with a terrible headache? Before he got down to examining him, he first asked him a few questions.
In a cartoon in The New Yorker this week, a patient sits expectantly on the table as his doctor glances down at the charts. “Here’s your problem,” the physician says, “it looks like you’re paying attention to what’s going on.”
If you're a parent, you're a pro in the What-If game.
--What if I could have been there to keep the bully away?
--What if I could have stopped my daughter from driving home drunk?
--What if I’d known my son was contemplating suicide?
Cemeteries have an uncanny ability to zip the lips of the optimist. And the younger the deceased, the more mute the optimist becomes.
Almost five years to the day, the prodigal son emptied his bank account, packed a few changes of clothes. and snuck off to the faraway country. Again.
The most underlined and finger-smudged part of the Bible is 2 Opinions 3:1-22. Faux pearls of wisdom swing from this necklace of verses.
There are many deep and dark torture chambers of the soul that I have not experienced. But I have been swallowed alive by the pit of divorce, twice. Its rotten odor, its razor edges, its oxygen-deprived atmosphere—I know it.
Hallelujahs and Amens were ordinary parts of the Sunday morning service in the tiny country church. So was the swish of a flushing toilet.
When the cardboard box kisses the concrete of our front porch, bubble-wrapped inside is something useful. A smart speaker with Alexa at which we can bark orders. A Ninja professional blender for smoothies, a best-selling self-help book to revolutionize our lives, a FURminator deShedding tool for our dogs.
There comes a time, every week, when the world rests upon our tongues.The throne of the Almighty and the wheat fields of Texas are there. The manger of Bethlehem and the warming rays of the sun are, too. So is the flesh of the Passover lamb, raindrops from heaven, a John Deere tractor, and the God who says I Am Who I Am.
If God is perfect at everything, he’s also the perfect comedian. He delivers killer punch lines that bring the house down. His jokes are unrivaled. And he knows the truth that all comedians know: one of the key ingredients to a good joke is surprise.