When I was in my 20s, I intensely struggled with a sense of unworthiness before God; yet at the same time, I felt like I was just good enough to deserve His love because I was so well-behaved. It was a stressful way to live, and eventually, it took its toll.
At some point in my mid-twenties, I got disenchanted with the predictable Easter Sunday ritual. It just didn’t make sense to me: one Sunday, things were relatively normal; the next Sunday, the crowd doubled in size, we focused on the resurrection of Jesus, everyone was dressed in pastel-colored outfits, and afterward, we did an Easter egg hunt. I’m not trying to be offensive, but I just felt like it was a cultural ritual that had lost its original focus (at least it had for me).
Although I got a lot of things wrong when I was dating, I had one general policy I still do not regret: I felt it was best to keep my hands off the women I dated.
This week, I had the unfortunate experience of getting multiple shots in my gums and spending a total of seven hours in three different dentist’s chairs. The only good part about the experience is that it’s finally over.
One morning when I was in eleventh grade, I was walking through the school parking lot with Jamie Walker when all of sudden, I saw a big, black Buick Regal come around the corner. It was headed straight for me.
The other night, I thought I heard something break upstairs in the girls’ bathroom, but I decided to keep a low profile until there were further developments. I figured that one of the girls would let me know if I was needed for a cleanup. Then I heard something at the top of the stairs. It sounded two little steps.
When I started going to my church in May of 2005, we had about 75 people regularly attending, and almost all of them were single. These days, our church is much larger, thanks in part to the folks who are now married and have kids – lots of them.
As my little kids get older, I’m reflecting more on what my mother did right in raising me. And you know something I appreciate about her parenting style? She did not corner me. There were times when I wasn’t being my best self, or I was hiding something, or I was struggling with something that I didn’t want to talk to her about – and I knew that she knew it.
Last night, I traveled to the UPS Customer Service Center, where I had the opportunity to witness how quickly frustrated adults can start acting like children.
I hated riding the bus when I was a kid. It wasn’t just that I barfed one of the many times I got carsick – it was being crowded in there with a bunch of sweaty kids, riding for 45 minutes, and hearing the elderly bus driver scream, “Jennicka!!” at this little girl who was always causing trouble.
According to a recent study by the Barna group, at least 70 percent of single, self-identified Christian men view pornography on a monthly basis. Many Christian women probably look at this statistic and fear being stuck with a husband who’s more aroused by his smartphone than her. But I’m more worried many of these men will never get married at all.
The other morning, I decided to read the crucifixion story to my two little girls, hoping they would somehow understand how serious and heartbreaking it was. Although you’d think that would be hard for a three and a five-year-old, kids can surprise you.
I’ll be frank: when my mom first shared her zany idea for my wedding rehearsal dinner, I had my doubts. She had this idea that since I’m a lawyer, she would go with a courtroom theme. She would play the judge, and my fiancee and I would have to call “witnesses” to prove that we really should get married. You can imagine how weird and awkward this could have gotten, but it didn’t.
Back in college, I struggled to maintain healthy, close relationships. I was eaten alive with insecurity, which made it hard to have friendships without operating on a relational barter system that left people feeling used.
Last night, I was having a conversation with my neighbor, and all of a sudden, I panicked. I couldn’t understand him, and I didn’t have the guts to tell him that he wasn’t making any sense. I politely smiled and pretended I was following him, but I was lost and wanted to wrap up things without me looking stupid. The problem was, we were speaking Spanish; and he didn’t realize it, but he was talking over my head.
Joshua Rogers 