marriage, personal growth

Adventure in El Salvador

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My wife and I recently made a quantum leap from our comfort zone in small-town Ohio to south-central El Salvador. In February, we ventured with a group of gringos to a small island called La Calzada for a week.

We were equipped with a sense of adventure, our life stories and the belief that the restoration we’d experienced in our own lives might spark growth or hope in the lives of others.

If, like me, you have never ventured to Central America before, your mental picture of El Salvador may be fuzzy. I had previously traveled deep into Mexico so I had images of rocky farm land. I envisioned dirty cities tightly packed with humble abodes. I anticipated there would be vendors aggressively peddling their wares.

I saw all of that en route to our final destination. But over the course of our week on the island, I saw so much more.

A 30-minute van ride from the airport delivered us to a bustling port town where we schlepped our luggage into a flat-bottom boat. After another half hour of cruising through densely-packed mangroves, we arrived at our destination.

The air hung thick with smoke from burning trash. The wheels of our luggage bogged down in the layer of fine dirt that comprised the road on which we walked. A short hike landed us in the homestead where we would reside for the next week.

Scoping out our new digs, my first thought was something like, “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” My wife and I did get our own room, for which we were grateful, but the outhouse outside our room made me anxious.

As I was settling into the room and processing the new environment, a bat proceeded to join me, darting through my personal space like bats tend to do. I stifled my girlish screams and ran from the room like a scene from Ace Ventura. And I thought, “What are were doing here?!?”

What are we doing here?!?

What we did there was meet a lot of people. We heard a lot of stories. We shared our own. We laughed with the locals. We prayed with them. We gave a shoulder to cry on. We distributed food, clothes and reading glasses. We didn’t do anything extraordinary.

This week, though, was definitely beyond my ordinary. For one, I had no cell phone reception. The high-tech distraction that regularly beckons me to piddle my time away only served as a camera.

In the absence of email, TV, video games, social media or any media, there was more time to talk to my wife and to take in the beauty of creation. I absolutely loved it!

This journey helped me to recognize the things I often take for granted like indoor plumbing, air-conditioning and paved roads. Perhaps the greatest resource that I take for granted is time. I always assume I’ll get more of it, that tomorrow will bring another opportunity to do things I didn’t get to today.

It’s okay of I work a little too long or if I fritter my evening away shopping for cars, even though I’m not in the market for a car. There will be another time to spend with the kids, to get healthy or to take my wife on a date. I have deceived myself into this thinking.

Today, as I sit in the shadow of this adventure, I strive to recapture and rekindle that feeling of gratitude for the conveniences we have in our country and for my largely bat-free life. But mostly I want to remember that my time is far too precious to waste.

Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I should be investing more of my time in the people I love and in the causes that matter to me.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

-Psalm 90:12
personal growth, self health

Be Careful What You Wish For

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My kids’ Halloween candy is finally gone. Fewer and fewer rotting pumpkin carcasses reside on porches in my cookie cutter community. Santa statuettes marched their way into stores a month ago. And cupid is already waiting in the wings sharpening his arrows and marketing ploys.

In the harried pace of our modern existence, there is danger in not making the time to reflect, to breathe in the moment and to think about the ‘why’ more than the ‘what.’ The great Barry White once implored listeners to “Slow Your Roll.”

I need that reminder to slow down, to process and to reflect. Today as I slow my roll, I am looking back over my summer. I faced some challenges during that three-month span, and I want to ensure that those trials were not encountered in vain.

I have spent a lot of time over the past couple years trying to harness humility. For me humility isn’t a lowly state where I am have no opinion and no voice.

The humility I’m pursuing is one where I am not the center of the universe, where I am more empathetic and aware of the needs of people who I encounter every day and where I am compelled to action to serve the needs of those people.

When I am lacking in humility, my priorities become misaligned. I lose sight of the bigger picture. I do damage to my relationships. So I have been prayerfully focused on this trait.

And I’ve learned to be careful what I ask for, because I just might get it. This summer I encountered three humbling incidents that helped me grow in this area:

The first was a health scare. After some unusual chest pains and faintness, I ended up in the hospital for four nights. Aside from an enlarged right ventricle, I am okay.

But this stay reminded me of how fragile we humans are. In an instant, our world can change. Life is short. That’s not an ad campaign. It is truth.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. – Psalm 90:12

The second humbling event was being a leader at a church camp. Spending a week in the woods with kids, was a solid reminder that I need to be more childlike. In the woods, you are stripped of possessions and titles.

There was no me-time, no fancy food. There was no self-importance. But there was fun, singing, laughing, budding friendships and a distinct sense that there is more to life than what we see.

And [Jesus] said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” – Matthew 18:3

Lastly, I ran over a chunk of concrete on the highway that destroyed my car’s exhaust and took it out of commission for two weeks. I drive a luxury car that I have personalized and have spent a lot of time caring for. The car feels almost like an extension of me. I didn’t realize how much of my identity is wrapped up in that car until I lost it for a couple weeks.

Possessions, no matter how precious they may seem, do not matter. They all fade. A life spent pursuing things is a life wasted.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. – Matthew 6:19-21

I am stubborn, so sometimes my life lessons have to take the shape of a 2×4 upside my noggin. I don’t particularly enjoy those moments, but I recognize their importance. I need them to put me in my place.

We should all try to remember our place in the universe. Here’s a hint – we don’t reside at the center.

parenting, personal growth

3 Lessons Learned from 3 Nights in the Woods

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I recently checked an item off my bucket list that, truth be told, was never actually on my bucket list. For the first time ever, I went to a church camp.

I was assigned a fourteen-year-old junior leader, given an unairconditioned cabin and entrusted with the well-being of four 10-11 year-old boys. I spent three nights in the woods hustling from one activity to the next, eating thoroughly mediocre camp food and hoping that these boys were hearing messages that might change their lives someday.

It wasn’t an easy time. By the end of our stay, I was exhausted. My tolerance for pre-teen boys was sapped, and I used up every bit of extroversion that this introvert could muster.

I needed alone time to recharge my batteries. I needed sleep. And I needed a shower.

Although camp came with some challenges, it was also very rewarding. One of the boys in my cabin was my son Alex. He’s the main reason I signed up to be a leader. I trusted this would be an experience that neither of us would ever forget. I wasn’t disappointed.

As I look back over the days spent at camp, there are a few ideas I want to ensure I remember:

  1. Say ‘YES’ to discomfort. When my wife first mentioned the possibility of being a leader at a church camp, I came up with all kinds of reasons why I shouldn’t do it. Taking off three days of work was at the top of my list. But I’ve learned that the most meaningful experiences in my life have occurred when I stepped outside of my routine and took on a challenge that I didn’t want to take on. Comfort is the enemy of change. The four days spent at this camp were void of the comforts that I cling to in life. It was awesomely uncomfortable!
  2. Be more childlike. Children possess some wonderful qualities that most adults have had wrung out of our lives. It wasn’t so long ago that I was a carefree boy, but seeing the contrast between these kids and myself reminded me of some traits that I’d like recapture. These boys haven’t set in concrete their opinions and prejudices. They were goofy. They made friends almost instantly. When they got upset at something or someone, they forgot about it 10 minutes later. I want to be more like them.
  3. I need more silliness in my life. One of my favorite parts of camp happened each night when we retired to the cabin to wind down. Each kid retired to his bunk with snacks in hand, and pre-lights-out silliness ensued. They goofed on each other. They made up names for each other. They talked about how awesome they were. And we laughed…a lot. It reminded me of when I was a kid. It also reminded me that silliness helps to lighten our load. It is good for the soul.

In the days leading up to this camp, I was dreading my decision to go, but in the days after, I found myself smiling at the memories. It affected me, and I trust that it affected the kids as well. I formed some lifelong memories with my son, and it sure beat sitting in front of a computer at work.

If you’re ever given an opportunity to do something like this, fight against your desire to say no. Step out on a limb.

Get uncomfortable. Get dirty. Get tired. Get blessed!

marriage & parenting, personal growth, self health

3 Days in the Hospital – 3 Lessons Learned

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Last week I was plucked from my life for three harrowing days. Stripped of my belongings and even my clothes, I was locked away from the world with my every move being monitored. I was stabbed repeatedly and even injected with radioactive material.

I was in the hospital.

After a couple day of dealing with dubious chest pains, I thought it prudent to visit my local ER with the hopes that they could dispel my suspicion of heart attack. Three days later, after running a gauntlet of examinations, an automatic sliding glass door powered open granting me freedom from the medical center.

Long story short, I did not have a heart attack, but I do have an enlarged right ventricle which will require that I log more hours in the sterile spaces of our health care system.

Three days of torturous day-time TV and conversations about mortality, afford one a lot of opportunity to reflect on life and to think about the things that truly matter. Three observations stuck with me and are still bouncing around my head as I still linger in the shadow of this experience:

  1. My family’s needs supersede my own. I HATE going to doctors. I avoid them at all costs, even at my own peril. If it were up to me, I would opt out of my company’s heath care program and stock up on duct tape and gauze. But I’m regularly reminded that it’s not about me. I’m the leader of my home, and my family’s needs take precedence over my preference. If I were a single guy, I would have skipped the ER. I would have washed down a pair of Ibuprofen with some beer and hoped for the best. But, it’s not about me.
  2. I need people in my life. As a raging introvert who’s pursuing the rugged individualistic American dream, I try to weather most storms on my own. I don’t like to bring people into my messes. I posted no selfies in my hospital gown because I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me or reaching out to me. Frankly, there’s something wrong with that approach to life. Some did find out about my condition and reached out to me to encourage me. I needed that. It made a difference. I felt fairly isolated from humanity during my stay, like a con locked in the bing. Freedom came in the form of encouraging words.
  3. I need to be more humble. Okay, this thought wasn’t some grand revelation. I knew this already. I’ve been praying about humility and about breaking down my wall of pride for some time. In a way, this experience was an answer to prayer. Being wheeled through a hospital in an open-backed gown, unshaven, unbathed, blood-stained, exhausted is a humbling experience. Remembering the frailty of the human condition gives laser focus. Recognizing that I’m not in control, nor have I ever been in control of my life is reorienting. I needed all that

Friends, we are all going to find ourselves in positions from which we want to escape. I almost yanked out my IV and ninja-walked out of that hospital on day two. But I trusted there was some reason I was there, and that I would take something away from the experience. I hated it in the moment though.

If you find yourself in such a situation today, my encouragement would be to figure out why you’re there. God brought you to it. How do you need Him to equip you or change you to get through it? Don’t face it alone. You are not alone.

If you need someone to talk to, you can email me at jwilloughby443@gmail.com or call (800) 273-8255 to talk to a professional.

marriage, marriage & parenting, personal growth

Dandelion Whine

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I deal with quite a bit of lawn shame. Looking out over my vast .26 acre lot, I often find myself thinking, ‘Meh.’ My yard is especially inglorious this time of year when it needs cut every three days and the weeds are plentiful.

One of my biggest issues is that although my yard needs cut every three days, I am more like an every six to seven day kind of guy. I know my grass is too long when I can see the wind rippling through my lawn like it’s the Serengeti.

I could have sworn I heard Hakuna Matata echoing across the plains the last time I mowed. A “problem-free philosophy” my eye. Whoever wrote that song clearly didn’t have chickweed covering half of their front yard.

I’m not sure why my inability to grow a great lawn bothers me so much. I guess my inner-farmer is offended. I think back to the pioneer days when agriculture was essential. If you couldn’t grow food, you couldn’t eat.

Then, I imagine my 10 pioneer-days children who all look like Tiny Tim (from A Christmas Carol, not the eccentric ukulele player) staring at me with their sunken eyes wondering why their papa can’t get the crops to grow.

I don’t know, Tiny Tim kids! Stop with all the pressure!

I realize that one of the biggest barriers standing between me and a beautiful lawn is time. I don’t invest a lot of it into my lawn.

I assume I could have great landscaping and make my imaginary Tiny Tim family proud if I were to work in my yard every night. But my time is more wisely invested.

I’ve started to notice that some of the best men I know share a similar affliction. Their yards aren’t great either. These men are coaches, dads, granddads, leaders, servants and big-idea guys who are pouring into their families, into youth, into marriages. Lawn care is an afterthought.

They are eradicating emotional weeds and helping prune and nurture spiritual gifts that are just beginning to bud. While I wouldn’t put myself on the same level as some of these men, I see that I often let my yard go for one more day because that day is being invested in something more meaningful.

I am learning to be okay with that.

Someday my body will reside six feet beneath a well-manicured lawn, and whether that’s tomorrow or 50 years from now, I want to leave behind a positive impact.

I want to know that I did something with my time and gifts that helped others in some way. Lawn care (unless I’m caring for someone else’s lawn) simply doesn’t do that.

Now, I have some civic duty and pride that compels me to keep my yard respectable, but it will never look like a golf course. My lawn’s mediocrity is freeing up my capacity to be great in other areas.

I am good with that.

 

personal growth, self health

From Fake News to Transcendence

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One of the buzzword phrases of 2017 was ‘fake news.’ People are suddenly so indignant about the falsified news feeds that fill our social media pages. It’s funny how we selectively care about some of the junk that’s fed to us by the media, but we gobble up other garbage like it’s filet mignon.

News flash: Most of our culture is a fake news feed.

We place materialism above altruism. We place politics over people. We pray at the feet of celebrity gods. We allow our id’s hungers to overpower our innate sense of right and wrong.

As the human race, we have lost focus on what matters most, often seeking meaning and joy from all the wrong places.

Joy should come from relationships and helping our fellow man, but we have reduced joy to a marketing campaign – a false promise on the other end of a credit card transaction. A fleeting feeling from a deviant sexual relationship. A secret addiction’s carrot before the crushing blow of the stick.

Don’t get me wrong. I recognize that there are millions of good people in the world who get it. People who see through the smokescreen of main-stream culture’s false promises. People who have rightly aligned their priorities and are serving their brothers and sisters. People who are leading their families in the ways of truth.

But I also know it’s easy for good people to lose perspective. I know how hard it is for me to stay focused on the things that matter most…on the people who matter most.

I am lured into purchases I don’t need. I have allowed my flesh to take the driver’s seat that my mind should rightly occupy. I have to fight daily against the fake feeds to recognize the real.

Psychologist Abraham Maslow was famous for his theory know as the ‘Hierarchy of Needs.’ The theory places basic survival needs at its base. After survival, come our psychological needs, and the paramount of this pyramid used to be self-actualization. Maslow refined his theory in the 70s, placing ‘transcendence’ at the peak of human needs.

In other words, mankind’s ultimate goal is to reach a point where our lives transcend our own needs. Purposeful lives look beyond themselves, beyond the temporary.

This transcendence can take many forms, but Maslow observed a common experience among people who reached this state. He called them ‘peak experiences,’ describing them as, “rare, exciting, oceanic, deeply moving, exhilarating, elevating experiences that generate an advanced form of perceiving reality, and are even mystic and magical in their effect upon the experimenter.”

These blissful moments didn’t happen after buying a car, after a promotion or after a certain political party was voted into office.

These moments of pure joy often occur in the most mundane circumstances: while sharing breakfast with family, taking a walk in the woods or watching the sunrise in the still of dawn.

Have you ever encountered one of these pure joy, peak moments? I have.

I have experienced it when truly recognizing the beauty of creation and the world around us. I have felt the connectedness of humankind in a way that has moved me to tears. Moments with my wife and children have filled me with unspeakable joy.

All of these experiences have given me glimpses into true joy. Sadly, these moments are fleeting for me, often replaced by anxiety about work, selfish desires or other clouded thoughts about things that don’t matter.

My prayer for each of us is that we will be able to harness these moments of joy. I believe these peak experiences are glimpses of truth. They are reminders that we are part of something great, something unseen, something impossible to fully fathom.

Do you feel it from time to time? Bask in it. Let the fakeness of mass media and the false promises of addiction melt into nothing in the warmth of its rays. You and I were created for more.

marriage, personal growth, self health

In Our Darkest Valleys We Need Hope

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Oasis isn’t just a terrible band from the 90’s with a front man who had more attitude than ability. (Full disclosure – I still like their song “Wonder Wall.”)

An oasis is something that is off in the distance that offers hope. It is a watering hole in the desert. It is dreaming of a beach vacation in the dead of winter. It is a meal at the end of a fast.

An oasis is the promise of something greater than what we are currently enduring. We all need a carrot of hope dangling in front of us to get us through tough times.

Sometimes the valleys through which we travel may not be that tough. We may simply find ourselves stuck in an emotional, spiritual or relational rut. The days run together, and gray skies seem to linger incessantly.

Other times we find ourselves treading some very rough roads. We must deal with loss, disappointment, unfulfilled dreams, betrayal, illness or other forms of brokenness that make it difficult to even find the motivation to get out of bed.

Whether we’re just feeling the winter blues or we’re living through hell, we all need hope. I know because the last decade of my life has seen both of these seasons.

I’ve had times when it was difficult to distinguish one day from the next, when finding motivation was challenging. And I’ve trudged through some painful, dark valleys brought on by the loss of my sister and the near loss of my marriage, when I found it difficult to even put one foot in front of the other.

What got me through both seasons was hope. It was the recognition that life is a series of peaks and valleys, and no matter how deep the valley, it can’t last forever.

I wasn’t always a believer in the Bible, but a particularly long dark stretch brought me to the Word seeking hope. What I found within its pages were story after story about people who endured hardship and thrived in the face of it.

There were no promises of easy lives. But there were many promises that we will be shepherded through difficulty, that hardship can change us for the better and that we have access to strength beyond what we think possible.

Even after emerging from the darkest period of my life, I still find myself in seasons where I struggle to find joy. If you’ve lived through winter in Ohio, you probably know what I’m talking about.

To get through these seasons, I have to find little oases in my life. I look for glimmers of hope. I remind myself that spring always comes after winter.

One of the ways I do that in my marriage is by scheduling what my wife and I call an ‘annual abandon.’ We go on overnight trips without our kids. It’s a break from the routine and gives us something to look forward to.

We also enjoy date nights with some regularity. We try to make these dates happen monthly, but it can be difficult with two young kids and limited baby-sitting options.

I also look for small daily oases. They come in the form of prayer/meditation in the morning, family time in the evening, home-cooked meals, walking my dog, holding hands with my wife while watching TV or movie nights with the kids.

They aren’t extravagant events, but these simple moments bring joy and make the stress and drudgery of work all worth it.

If you are simply stuck or drowning in darkness, I encourage you to find your own glimmers of hope. Even if an annual abandon is outside of your scope at the moment, look for an oasis each day.

There is so much joy and wonder in the world if you look at it right. Figure out what brings you joy. Focus on it, and move towards it.

 

marriage, personal growth

Relationships Are Like Cars

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A few years back, my car’s battery died at the most inopportune time. It was at night, in February, and winter winds lashed my face with wet snow as I jump-started the car back to life. The worst part was that I knew my battery was going to die.

A couple of weeks earlier, I’d found myself in a similar situation, in a parking lot, listening to the deafening silence of my car failing to start. Only on that occasion, I jiggled the battery cables, and by some miracle, the car started up. But a little red light flickered to life in my dashboard imploring me to take corrective action.

‘Check engine,’ my car begged.

‘Nah,’ said I.

After all, checking an engine requires time and money. I decided to push my luck, which ran out two weeks later.

I work in the auto industry, in service parts purchasing, and without fail, we see increased demand for batteries in the winter. The additional strain put on batteries in cold means that many of us will find ourselves stranded in parking lots, wishing we’d been more proactive.

Seventeen years of marriage have taught me that relationships are kind of like cars. Both require a lot of maintenance.

Those of us who are smart will invest our resources in preventive maintenance. The rest of us will find ourselves stranded wishing we’d have done something about the warning lights.

When my own marriage was pushed to the brink of divorce, I could look back over the years and see all kinds of indicators that were illuminated that should have prompted me to action, which I promptly ignored.

There have been several studies done on ‘Marital Satisfaction Over Time,’ and when shown on a graph, it looks like a U-shaped curve. Happiness in marriage begins dropping almost immediately after the honeymoon.

Before your car even loses its new-car smell, your will start to lose some of your luster in your spouse’s eyes. It’s predictable, just like knowing that you’ll have to replace a car battery every 3-5 years.

Sadly, when spouses start to feel their satisfaction slipping, many want to trade in for a newer model. The problem with new models is that they eventually become old models. And if our satisfaction and joy are solely based on other people, we will continually be let down.

That inevitable decline in marital bliss doesn’t mean we should resign ourselves to accept mediocre marriages though. There are so many ways we can fight against the tide of divorce. Primary among them is attending events or classes that equip us for lifelong love.

I need regular reminders of what it means to be a great spouse. We all do.

There is a powerful event coming up on February 9th and 10th at Ginghamsburg Church called Refine Us. Justin and Trisha Davis will share their story as a springboard to help couples choose the path to healthier marriages.

I’ve learned the hard way just how much I need this kind of advice. I will be there front and center, taking notes. I hope to see you there too.

personal growth

Less Is More

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As we wrap another orbit around the great gaseous ball of fire in the sky, humans scamper about our terrestrial sphere busier than ever, clamoring for more.

More stuff. More hobbies. More causes. More rights. More voices. More vices. More of everything.

More isn’t inherently bad. As we dream of what is to come in the year ahead, many of us are thinking of positive ‘mores’ we want in our lives.

We want to spend more time with family. We want to develop more healthy habits. We want to pursue more meaningful lives. We want more joy in our marriages.

But even in positive contexts like these, more can sometimes be harmful. As I think of the direction in which I want to grow and the healthy habits I want to adopt, I find I can bite off more than I can chew. I can set resolutions or goals that are too lofty or too broad.

If I say I want to be healthier or I want to be a better husband in 2018, I set myself up for failure because I haven’t defined what actions I’ll take to achieve this goals. When I read a blog that gives me 10 ways to have a happier marriage, if I go after all 10, I probably won’t achieve one of them.

While I do have overarching goals of becoming healthier and being a better husband, if I don’t break these large goals down into manageable, realistic tasks, I will never move forward.

If you have spent any time in the business world, you’ve probably heard of SMART goals. The acronym stands for Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant and Timely.

For me, setting targets that are relevant, specific and attainable are the only way I will actually have success.

  • Relevant – How does it tie into my bigger goals? Will it be impactful to my loved ones or me?
  • Specific – What exactly am I going to do? Who, what, when and where?
  • Attainable – Can I actually achieve success in this area? Will I actually do what needs done?

For example, I want to be a better leader in my home. To that end, I will be scheduling family meetings in 2018. I have already purchased a white board calendar and a white board where I can schedule the meetings for all to see and to jot down our meeting notes.

Our first few meetings will revolve around establishing a family mission statement. So I have already listed out questions to guide our conversation. And I have committed to this goal in front of men in my life who will hold me accountable.

These are some of the specific and realistic measures I’m taking to move me towards being a better leader in my home. They aren’t that difficult or ground breaking, but they are happening.

I have set a few other goals for 2018, and they are similar to this one in that I am taking specific actions to move towards mile markers that I know I can hit. And they are moving me in the overall direction I want to go as a Christian, as a husband and as a dad.

I’m not going to win a Pulitzer Prize in 2018 or chisel my abs into a six pack. But I know I will take several small steps that will move me forward in my journey. And I will end 2018 a better man than I am now.

marriage

The Best Marriage Advice I Have Heard Lately

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The best marriage advice that I have received recently was this – emptiness.

I know; bear with me. I too sat skeptically back with arms folded when the speakers at the marriage simulcast flashed this word on the screen.

I was imagining an existential state of emptiness where nothing matters. But in this state of emptiness, things matter. People matter.

The speakers (Les & Leslie Parrott) are a married couple who explained that the way to move our marriages towards deeper intimacy is to empty ourselves of the need to change our spouse.

Achieving this emptiness is not easy, because most of us possess some innate drive to bend others’ wills towards our own. I want things done a certain way – my way.

If you don’t drive like me, you are an idiot.

If you don’t vote like me, you clearly don’t understand how the world works.

If you root for that team up north, something is fundamentally flawed in your DNA.

While none of these things are true it is easy, in my pridefulness, to believe them. I do the same thing in my marriage.

I just know there is a ‘best way’ to do most things around our house. In fact, I wrongly assume that I know the best way to do most things, period. When I cling too tightly to my certainty and to my rightness, it leaves a lot of room for those around me to be wrong, especially those who live in my house.

I think the speakers were onto something with this idea of emptiness. In Buddhism, emptiness is a state for which one strives. They teach of emptying self of preconceived ideas to see the true nature of things and events.

Jesus also requires an emptiness of sorts. He called himself ‘living water,’ and in that time, water was transported in clay vessels. Man is referred to throughout the Bible as a vessel. If we are vessels, and He is living water, we must empty ourselves before we can invite Jesus in.

I don’t know about you, but I am most often filled to the brim with my own junk. I have poured myself full of pride, selfishness, busyness, stress, anxiety, anger and gallons of meaningless filler. I am so full of all those things that it sometimes spills onto those around me.

I pour out my pride on my wife and my anger on my kids. My life is saturated with self-induced stress.

The times in my life when I have experienced the most peace are when I dump these dregs down the drain. When I empty some of myself, I create room for grace, patience and understanding

My effort empty myself starts at 5:30 each morning. After brief physical exercise to wake myself up, I have a time of meditation and prayer. To be honest, even quieting myself for 5-10 minutes isn’t easy for me.

But I repeatedly pray a simple prayer – ‘Less of me. More of You.’

The days when I actually live into this mantra tend to be better days than those when I go around slopping myself on the world around me. Some days I just have to get out of the way.

Emptiness begets fullness.

turn off & tune in to your spouse