I have a confession to make: before my wife and I had children, I didn’t read one parenting book. I know, I know – I’m such a bad father. However, believe it or not, three years after the birth of my youngest child, I finally read a book for new parents, and the reason is simple: the author interviewed me for it and included a couple of essays I’ve written. So basically, I read the book to see how I sounded in it.
Nabeel Qureshi was raised in a Pakistani-American family and grew up a devout Muslim. While he was in medical school, he read the Bible for research in his debate against a Christian friend, and this began a journey that eventually led to his becoming a Christian. He shared his conversion story in his book Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus, and he also works with Ravi Zacharias International Ministries telling his story and providing encouragement to those who seek to share their faith with a changing world.
Hey, single men out there, I want to tell you a story. A couple of Saturdays ago, I was doing Daddy Daycare at the house with my two daughters when I asked my three-year-old a question.
A few years ago when I got on Facebook, there was no such thing as a “like” button (can you imagine it?). You just posted status updates, photos, or links to articles, and the only way you knew whether people approved was if they commented on it. Then the like button came along at some point and changed everything. Now there was an instant measure of success for every insecure human being on Facebook.
The other day, I was at this salad bar where they had one of my favorite salad ingredients: chopped, boiled eggs. They had a small teaspoon that made it really difficult to get out as much egg as I wanted, so I decided to pick up the whole container and turn it slightly sideways to make it go faster. Let me tell you something: it worked. About three quarters of the eggs dumped onto the floor, right in the middle of the busiest hour for the little restaurant, which only had two employees working. And when I got the attention of the cashier…
One time when I was six years old, my dad shut the car door on my hand. He didn’t see what he had done until the teeth of the clasp had already closed on my fingers and it was too late. But for some reason, I just froze up and didn’t cry at all.
The other day, I met a D.C. traffic-directing cop in the line at J.C. Penney, and I remarked how dangerous her job was. “I mean, people in D.C. drive so crazy,” I said. “You could get killed.”
A significantly modified version of this post appeared at the Boundless Blog. You can find that here. (I like them both.) I was sitting in the church service when I heard the preacher say something that made me cringe: “If you can’t remember the day you gave your heart to Jesus, then you probably never were saved in the first place.”
My friends Cris and Sam had been planning their home purchase for months, and finally, after looking at several houses, they found a lovely home that seemed like the perfect fit. They negotiated with the seller, signed a contract, and began making settlement plans. But first, they had to do the inspection.
I’m currently waiting on some news that’s important to me, and it’s starting to get a little uncomfortable.
I did it – after four years of chugging along at my rinky-dink Blogger site, I invested some money and a lot of time to start over and build a legitimate author website. For those of you who have been keeping up with my writing, I want to give you a heads-up on some things that will change, and some things that will stay the same . . .
I recently wrote a post called “Three Easy Ways to Ruin a First Date,” which provided advice on how to make a first date want to run away from you and never call back. My suggestions were: 1) Propose (or at least talk about marriage enough to make yourself sound desperate); 2) Overshare negative information about your life and relationships; and/or
I hate to admit it, but back in my single days, I unnecessarily bungled a number of first dates. And the saddest part was, I didn’t even know I was doing anything wrong.
This post is written in memory of the countless infants who were murdered at the hands of Dr. Kermit Gosnell, who was convicted of their deaths in 2013. You can read more about the trial here. We do not know how many thousands of you there are; nor do we know the names God has now given you. But what we do know is that your lives on this earth were far too short, that you deserved better than you got – and today, we want you to know this: we remember you.
It was April of 2002. I was single, living alone, and had no prospect of marriage in sight (nor would I for several years). But for some reason, I felt compelled to pick up my journal and write a prayer for my future wife. I prayed that if she was going through a hard time or making any bad decisions that God would give her the grace to move on and forgive herself. It seemed like the right thing to pray at that moment.
Joshua Rogers 