I’ve spent three years of my legal career as a criminal prosecutor, a job that usually has one goal when it comes to wrongdoers: conviction. Once the defendant has pleaded guilty or has been found guilty by a jury, it’s all over. He has been convicted, and the only thing left to do is sentence him.
It was my senior year of college, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life. So I began asking for advice from trusted mentors, and one suggested that I go to law school. Although I initially balked at the idea, after I did some research, law seemed like a good fit for me — I had a knack for writing, analysis and oral argument (just ask my mother). But the problem was that I had originally planned to become a missionary after college, so I felt uneasy with the idea of pursuing a career that would…
When I was a little boy, my mother would regularly tell my brother Caleb and me to go outside and play. We were happy to oblige for a half hour or so, but then we would get hot and bored and decide to go back inside. However, when we came back to the house, we would often discover she had locked us out.
The other day, I was riding the city bus with my daughters in Washington, D.C., when I noticed a heavy-set, middle-aged couple sitting next to us wearing shirts that appeared to read “MILLION MAN MARCH FOR BIBLES” in hot pink. But I wasn’t totally sure that’s what it said, because they were leaning forward looking at their phones, and it made it hard to read their shirts.
Three weeks ago, my family and I picked up and moved everything from the suburbs of Raleigh, North Carolina, to the busy streets of Washington, DC. I’m grateful for the chance to return to DC, but at the same time, everything about life feels upside down.
I used to be convinced I was going to spend the rest of my life in Venezuela. I had a number of friends there, I loved the culture, and the gorgeous Venezuelan ladies treated me like a celebrity when I visited during my junior year of college. So when I got back from my visit, I spent an inordinate amount of time talking about my plans for moving. And my poor mother was one of the main victims of my endless diatribes about the new life I thought I wanted.
My wife and I are in the process of moving to Washington, DC, right now, and I’ve got to tell you, one of the most freeing things about moving is purging.
After two years of living in the quiet suburbs of Raleigh, North Carolina, my family and I are moving back to Washington, D.C. It wasn’t a total surprise, but when we first got the news, we had to make a mental adjustment.
My oldest daughter recently graduated to big kids’ Sunday School. What that means for her is: goodbye coloring sheets and eating Goldfish; hello memory verses and eight-year-olds.
I’ve had a lot of dreams that came to nothing – at least not when I wanted them to or the way I wanted. For example . . .
In his book Run With the Horses, Eugene Peterson tells a story of seeing an adult swallow teaching its chicks to fly. Three young swallows were perched on a dead branch that stretched over a lake, and what happened next must have been terrifying for the little chicks:
Most of my childhood, I was raised by a working, single mother who usually couldn’t make it to daytime school events. Every once in a while though, she would slip away from work and come to school for something special. It meant the world to me when she was able to do that.
I don’t have a lot of regrets from my childhood, but there’s one from fifth grade that still bothers me. I made friends with a second grader named Jennifer who rode my bus. She had a round face, a raspy voice, and a wild mop of wavy blond hair. And those eyes – they nearly disappeared when she smiled, which she did a lot – especially when she was talking to me.
“What is wrong with you?” my wife asked. I was cranky, snippy, and easily annoyed – by her, by my daughters, by the universe. I knew why, but I didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine,” I snapped back. I wasn’t fine. I was panicking inside.
At age 19, I was a proud, Bible-thumping holy-roller who was on a one-man mission to save the world from sin. Consequently, I had trouble making friends outside the most sympathetic circle of gracious believers at my church. I mean, people didn’t know what to do with a guy who was always trying to convert everyone – including Christians – to Christianity.
Joshua Rogers 