When I was in my late 20s and single, I was afraid I was idolizing marriage, and I had reason to be. I knew marriage was a healthy, God-given desire. But I oftentimes found myself obsessing over it, anguishing over the wait before I met “the one,” and inordinately discouraged when another hopeful romance turned out to be nothing.
Last week, I was vacationing in South Carolina when I drove past a billboard with a Confederate flag in the background and the words “Never Forget” emblazoned across it. I was embarrassed then, but as I thought about it this week, another thought crossed my mind: “How must African-Americans in South Carolina feel about that billboard as they grieve the murder of nine black church members in Charleston by a white supremacist?”
Recently while my family and I were on vacation, my three-year-old daughter loudly asked the question every parent wants to hear in a public swimming pool: “Daddy, can I go pee pee in the pool?” A young mom with long, blond hair and a number of elaborate tattoos looked over at me and chuckled. But I wasn’t sure if it was a laugh that said, “I’m judging you” or “That sounds like something my kid would say.”
One summer during high school, I spent a couple of weeks with a well-meaning adult who aggressively tried to undermine everything I believed about Jesus. The man inundated me with anti-Christian arguments I had never considered before and ran circles around my partially developed 14-year-old brain. By the end of our time together, my faith was in shambles.
I have friends who adopted a little girl from another country, and their child has some significant disabilities that require her to wear a brace on her leg. You would think that fitting braces for a child’s leg wouldn’t be a difficult thing, but it has actually been a long process that has been debilitating and painful for her.
The other morning, I got up at 5:00 a.m., put on my gym clothes in a sleepy stupor, and got in the car. As I pulled out of the driveway, the thought hit me: I really ought to pray more often.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
A few months ago, I got an idea for a book, and it was a good idea. It still is a good idea. However, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I have written about three pages, and that is all.
Joshua Rogers 