Screaming children...wow what a rough day (and I was only at home for a third of it)! Let's just say that all the toys are in the garage and the blanket is in the trash (for now). How can someone be such an angel one day and such a devil the next? Wait...I guess you could also ask the same question about me, so let's not get ahead of ourselves. Kids are a wonderful challenge, and they frequently turn life into a beautiful mess. "You will not talk to me like that. Get down from there. Stop making not good choices and things like that won't happen." @jah_born knows what I'm talking about. He witnessed one of my children dancing, punching, and running all over On the Border last night. Whew!

It's hard not to take that stuff personal. It's hard not to wonder what I'm doing (or not doing) to cause such non-Super Nanny behavior. It's hard not to feel the other restaurant patrons blazing fiery-red holes in my head with light-saber stares that say, "If you don't do something about that kid, I will." So what do you do at the end of such a day? What do you do when (all) the kids are in bed (assuming they end up going to bed), and the house is quasi-still? Read something like this or this? Fall asleep in a long, hot bath? Send James Dobson a nasty email? Go workout? Catch up on housework? Post a blog that shares your trials with the world?

I'm tempted to turn this into a sweet, heart-warming devotional thought, but it's not happening tonight; partly because there's someone in my house that just got out of bed again (actually 3 more times since I originally typed that), but mostly because sometimes it's too difficult to boil (or water) life down to the cover of a Hallmark card or a page in Chicken Soup for the Soul.

Let's be honest. Parenting is tough. As a result, we need each other. We also need to authentically let others know (non-Christians included) that we don't have it all together and we need help. How might we share the joys and frustrations of parenting with friends who are not yet or are just learning to follow Jesus?

As we continue through another 40 days of Scripture and prayer, consider this heartfelt selection from Israel's songbook:

"I run to you, GOD; I run for dear life. Don't let me down! Take me seriously this time! Get down on my level and listen, and please--no procrastination! Your granite cave a hiding place, your high cliff aerie a place of safety.

You're my cave to hide in, my cliff to climb. Be my safe leader, be my true mountain guide. Free me from hidden traps; I want to hide in you. I've put my life in your hands. You won't drop me, you'll never let me down.

I hate all this silly religion, but you, God, I trust. I'm leaping and singing in the circle of your love; you saw my pain, you disarmed my tormentors, You didn't leave me in their clutches but gave me room to breathe. Be kind to me, God- I'm in deep, deep trouble again. I've cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside. My life leaks away, groan by groan; my years fade out in sighs. My troubles have worn me out, turned my bones to powder. To my enemies I'm a monster; I'm ridiculed by the neighbors. My friends are horrified; they cross the street to avoid me. They want to blot me from memory, forget me like a corpse in a grave, discard me like a broken dish in the trash. The street-talk gossip has me 'criminally insane'! Behind locked doors they plot how to ruin me for good.

Desperate, I throw myself on you: you are my God! Hour by hour I place my days in your hand, safe from the hands out to get me. Warm me, your servant, with a smile; save me because you love me. Don't embarrass me by not showing up; I've given you plenty of notice. Embarrass the wicked, stand them up, leave them stupidly shaking their heads as they drift down to hell. Gag those loudmouthed liars who heckle me, your follower, with jeers and catcalls.

What a stack of blessing you have piled up for those who worship you, Ready and waiting for all who run to you to escape an unkind world. You hide them safely away from the opposition. As you slam the door on those oily, mocking faces, you silence the poisonous gossip. Blessed GOD! His love is the wonder of the world. Trapped by a siege, I panicked. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' I said. But you heard me say it, you heard and listened.

Love GOD, all you saints;  GOD takes care of all who stay close to him, But he pays back in full those arrogant enough to go it alone.

Be brave. Be strong. Don't give up. Expect God to get here soon."

We had a fantastic time tonight at Warren Park. We played soccer with new friends and celebrated @RachelLWells' birthday.

I have a much longer (and more personal) post brewing on the topic of vocation and its sacredness; however, tonight, I am sharing excerpts from the genesis of such thoughts, Chapter 8 of Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian Culture, (by Michael Frost) to wet your appetite and possibly spark some introductory conversation. Over the past month, Chapters 5 (another brewing post) and 8 of this book have aided in sparking critical growth for me as a church planter.

"[Followers of Jesus] will be devoted to their work, knowing that they can be called by God to work in a factory or a law firm or a school or the home every bit as much as someone can be called by God to minister as a priest or pastor. Like Daniel and Joseph, exiles will work hard for the host empire, and while doing so, they will be promising, 'We will work righteously.'" (p. 177)

"For too long the church has fallen into the dualistic pattern of seeing someone's job as a secular endeavor while valuing his or her role within the church as holy or righteous." (p. 180)

"Many churchgoing people get the impression that what they spend the bulk of their time doing every week is unimportant to God in comparison to what they do for a few hours each week in the church." (p. 181)

"God is present and interested in our work life as in any area of our lives. [Followers of Jesus] need to wriggle free from a church that devalues the righteousness of their everyday work lives as well as from a world that sees work simply as the means to make money." (p. 181)

"One of the simplest ways of [working responsibly and not contributing to the suffering of others] is to see that our personal sense of mission involves what we do for a living just as much as what we do for our church activities." (p. 181)

"We earn money at our jobs, of course, but our primary motivation as exiles is to do our work as an expression of our relationship with God." (p. 181)

"We routinely talk about the 'world out there.' What else can that mean other than that we, the church people, are 'in here?' This dualism has, over 1,700 years, created Christians who cannot relate their interior faith to their exterior practice, and this affects their ethics, lifestyles, and capacity to share their faith meaningfully with others." (p. 185)

Let me highlight these two helpful posts from my homie, @bretwells.

"Helping the Church Be the Church: Reflections on New Monasticism Part I"

"Helping the Church Be the Church: Reflections on New Monasticism Part II"

I'm definitely with @hughhalter on this one.

It’s short and sweet tonight. Although I have plenty to reflect on, I can’t seem to put much of it into words. Creatively anyway. I’ve really enjoyed listening to the podcasts of Dr. Mark Love’s three sessions from ACU’s Summit 2009 that took place back in September. He says we’re priests, you know. He says we’re priests and our baptism served as our ordination. I guess if you’ve been baptized, you were baptized into the priesthood. It’s kinda weird to think about, because I don’t wear a robe, a collar, and I don’t have any religious rites memorized. This is the only priest I check in with from time to time.

Dr. Love says that priests need two things. First, a priest needs God. Yes, we do. We sure do. Second, though, he says that priests need a world. That’s right: a world. The priest is a go-between, someone in the middle, a liason between God and another party...namely the world. So...Priest...who’s your world? Where do you purposely encounter your world?

I'm well behind the curve in respect to this concept of liminality, but I can definitely see how it works and its lasting effects. Chapter 5 of this breaks it down wonderfully. It's kinda like I knew it was there but didn't have the language or perspective to provide solid descriptors and analysis. From Wikipedia (so it must be true...lol), "Liminality is a period of transition where normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed - a situation which can lead to new perspectives." That pretty much describes it..."new perspectives" (or not so new). Even though that definition is quite incomplete (because it's part of a much larger paragraph), there are important reasons why "normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed." Most notably, the person or people group finds itself in the midst of struggle. It's like a journey from adolescence to adult...resident to full practitioner, student to teacher. Such transitions require (sometimes) extreme experiences of struggle, despair, heartache, doubt, strife, hopelessness, ineptitude, and so on. It is during these experiences that we depend upon, rely, lean on, come near, lift up, grow together, sacrifice, embrace, and carry with each other for each other. Such experiences develop bonds that are not easily broken. As odd (and countercultural) as it may sound, we are thankful for liminality and must be a people running into the liminal. As God continues to bring order from chaos, we too as his agents, discard the shackles of safety, security, and predictability to run wild, free, and difficult with our Lord and each other. Like a firefighter running into a burning building, we must go.

"Here's the story I'll tell my friends when they come to worship, and punctuate it with Hallelujahs: Shout Hallelujah, you God-worshipers; give glory, you sons of Jacob; adore him, you daughters of Israel. He has never let you down, never looked the other way when you were being kicked around. He has never wandered off to do his own thing; he has been right there, listening. Here in this great gathering for worship I have discovered this praise-life. And I'll do what I promised right here in front of the God-worshipers. Down-and-outers sit at God's table and eat their fill. Everyone on the hunt for God is here, praising him. "Live it up, from head to toe. Don't ever quit!" From the four corners of the earth people are coming to their senses, are running back to God. Long-lost families are falling on their faces before him. God has taken charge; from now on he has the last word. All the power-mongers are before him —worshiping! All the poor and powerless, too—worshiping! Along with those who never got it together—worshiping! Our children and their children will get in on this As the word is passed along from parent to child. Babies not yet conceived will hear the good news—that God does what he says."

If you forgot already, a couple of weeks ago, it snowed a little bit. I must admit: it was nice. Four-day weekends are always welcome especially when they occur within a month of Spring Break. It was a Thursday and I worked late, because I was banking on a bad weather day, so I went ahead and prepared for the next week. When my daughter and I turned on to our street, we saw several of our neighbors playing in our front yard. We quickly parked on the street, jumped out of the car, and proceeded to launch snowballs at everybody. Sometimes, even in Texas, playing in the snow can be quite sacred.

I was born in Iowa but moved to Texas just before beginning Kindergarten. As a result, I don’t remember much about snow storm protocol. In Texas, when snow (or ice) falls from the sky, the first step in any system of response is to attempt to build a snowman. The day after the Great Snowstorm of 2010, my kids and I drove around our neighborhood counting 109 snowmen in a 3 mile radius around our house. Therefore, like good little Texans, we all pitched in, rolled snow, stacked snow, packed snow, and even found a couple carrots. The Snow Chef was our prize creation. (We got a little out of control on his head, and someone said it looked like he was wearing a chef’s hat.) The next day, after a fresh night of snow, we were at it again: rolling in the snow, throwing snowballs at each other, and building stuff. I wanted to build a snowman that was taller than me, so I began working on said project on my neighbor’s front porch. (I was hoping it would inhibit their ability to enter and exit their house. That’s right, I’m the “ugly neighbor.”) After I got started, my own kids and a couple other kids in the neighborhood joined in. We pulled snow off of cars, out of the yard, and anywhere else we could find it to build this snow monster. Eventually, the top was wider and heavier than the bottom and it collapsed: poor design and management on behalf of the foreman. However, unbeknownst to me when the project began, crafting the snow monster led to an experience I never expected. Matthew 10 (out of The Message) has really messed me (and Heidi) up lately. We initially read it in January during our first 40 days of Scripture reading and prayer; and now, after the first 7 of a new 40 days (Lent culminating in Easter), we’ve read it again. In short, Jesus sends his “harvest hands” out with quite a charge: ***”Don’t begin by traveling to some far-off place to convert unbelievers. And don’t try to be dramatic by tackling some public enemy. Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood. Tell them that the kingdom is here.”*** For me (and Heidi), it’s one of those sections of Scripture that causes the Bible to slip from my hands cascading to the floor as my head and hands leap toward the sky in repentance. I must continually ask myself: “How can I proclaim allegiance to the Liberating King and not know, spend time with, or tell my neighbors (with words and life) that the kingdom is here?” So here I am attempting to construct a 75-inch tall snow monster...completely focused on packing snow into a wobbly foundation...and calling out to the kids to bring me more snow, when one of the kids in my neighborhood stops and looks up at me. With my eyes still on the emerging snow creation but the kids’ eyes dead-set on me, I hear, “Chris, you’re my best friend.” Cold, frustrated, tired, dumbfounded, and amazed, I responded, “Thanks.” The hour I had spent with this kid (and other kids from the neighborhood who were helping me) over the previous two days was the only time I had spent with the kids in my neighborhood so far in 2010. ***”Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.”*** Sometimes, we don’t have to be sent to the other side of the globe. Sometimes, we only have to be home long enough to be sent across the street. Sometimes, we don’t have to be prepared to throw Bible verses. Sometimes, we only have to be prepared to throw snow balls. Indeed, we have been treated so generously. We have so much to live (and give).