Dear Lucas

My twin brother (Jason) holding Lucas
Kara's creative genius at work

His first Tigers hat

Kara made my first Father's Day a memorable one (as you can see from the previous two images). Here's part of the sermon from yesterday (Lucas's uncle Duncan held him on stage while I spoke this blessing over Lucas).

Dear Lucas,

You were born in a fascinating time, 2009. This is the year America swore in its first ever Black President. The Red Wings almost one another Stanley Cup and the Pistons learned how hard it is to replace a leader. North Korea is . . . well . . . being North Korea. Cold Play continues to dominate the music charts and television continues to put out better material than movies (when you are older I’ll tell you about a guy named Jack Bauer). Oprah still rules the world despite the fact that Al Gore invented the Internet. America is in the midst of two wars (Iraq and Afghanistan). Jay Leno is no longer the host of The Tonight Show. John Updike (famous writer), Chuck Daly (former coach of my favorite basketball team, the Detroit Pistons), Paul Harvey (America’s storyteller) and Hellen Suzman (Civil Rights advocate from South Africa) all died in 2009. It’s been an interesting year. What a time to be born!

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Christianity on the whole continues to struggle in the U.S. while the faith flourishes in South America (Pentecostal Roman Catholicism), parts of Asia and Africa (which now has more Christians than the U.S.). By the time you turn twenty-five, there might be less than 50 million Christians in the United States.

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I can’t wait to teach you to throw a two-seam fastball, how to defend someone who’s faster than you in basketball, the proper way to shave, the definition of a good book, the power of film, how to tell a story, and what it means to be dedicated servant. But more than all of those things, I have some specific prayers I bring to God on your behalf. These are the things that matter most to me. I hope this is a blessing to you as you grow in God’s Big World.

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I pray you will know God as your abba father. The Psalmist tells us that you were “fearfully and wonderfully made” Lucas. The Psalmist also tells us that God knew you in your mother’s womb. God is so passionate about you he has your name, not your initials because God cares about the details of life—God has your name tattooed on the palm of your hands. “Father” is Jesus’ chief metaphor for God. In Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, he refers to God as “father” (abba) fifteen times. In his day, that was as scandalous as describing God as our “mother” today. The point was not so much about gender as an all-loving God who is interested in the details of our lives. There’s nothing you can do to cause me to love you more. There’s nothing you can do to cause me to love you less. No matter where you go, or what you do, I promise that I will try to be the kind of father who points you toward the Father Jesus so beautifully embodied.

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I pray you will, as a result of knowing God as father, have Sunday eyes, loving people without conditions. You are entering a world that is drunk on division. We try to divide and create tribes for any possible reason. You will be tempted to allow racism, sexism; classism, elitism, and bias enter into your heart. Those attitudes are not from God for God has no “grandchildren” or “stepchildren”—only children created in his image. Friday eyes see people for who they are. Sunday eyes allow you to see people for who will one day become. Paul said that when we are immersed in the Jesus Story we are a new creation, therefore we see others in a completely new light. I will try to model this in front of you as I interact with others.

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I pray you will be a risk-taker. If you want to be a concert pianist, be the best concert pianist you can be. If you want to build homes in Trujillo, Honduras, be the best carpenter you can be. If you want to practice medicine, do so with every ounce of energy. Whatever you do, don’t play it safe or give in to the societal pressures to “have it all” and live the “American dream.” Whatever you do, do it as if you are doing it for Jesus himself. I promise to not be the dad who lives my dreams through you . . . Even if that means I give up sports to learn the intricacies of concert pianists.

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I pray you will possess a deep humility. You are entering a world under siege. Evil and sin do not reside “out there” among “them.” Rather, the Bible teaches us that evil runs right through the middle of us. As you grow older, you will make mistakes. You will make choices that will hurt yourself and others. The more you own your secrets and scars the less your secrets and scars will own you. Jesus teaches us to be the same person in secret as we are in public. His brother was so moved by this teaching he told a group of Christians that “confessing sins to each other” was vital in the spiritual life (James 5:16). I promise to emulate this by sharing my own shortcomings with you.

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I bless you today with every ounce of fiber inside of me. As you grow in God’s big world may you come to know that you will only find rest when you rest in God. May you become the person God dreamed you to be when he gave you to your mother and I. God’s gift to you is your life. What you choose to do with your life is a gift back to him. I will never be the same because of your presence in my life.

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Peace,





Dad



P.S. I know the "---" are not grammatically correct but it's the only way I could format the page for blogger. If blogger no longer exists by the time you are old enough to care, I tell you more about it.

Lucas in Real Time

Here's a short video for our family and friends Kara put together last night per Lucas's birth. Enjoy!

Lucas Joshua from Kara Graves on Vimeo.

Lucas Meets the Paparazzi

Here's film from just after the birth of Lucas. I think he's about twenty minutes into his "out of the womb" experience in this clip. For the record: he survived the paparazzi.

Love

Lucas is four weeks old today. Here's a fun photo for you.

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Everything in me says "yes" to the truth of this statement: The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.

My time as a husband, father, son, brother, friend, minister, teacher, coach, and writer bears witness to the accuracy of this statement.

But I'm not always right. So, do you agree with that sentiment? Is indifference the antithesis of love (and not, as we sometimes suspect, hate). Perhaps indifference is the tenured result of hate. That is, perhaps indifference is the result of hate stretched out over a long period of time.

Gone Baby Gone

Today, during the teaching time at church, Patrick made the point that one of the primary reasons life is precious is because it is temporary. "There will be a last time. A last time to hold hands with your spouse, children, grandchildren, and friends." If life was permanent, it would be altogether different. 

Kids won't always hold hands with their parents. Fall fades into Winter. Excitement morphs into ordinary. Mountain peaks become valleys. 

Two people were on my mind this morning. First, Lucas (of course). There will come a day, not to be depressing or dramatic, when Lucas and I cannot play catch, watch a movie, talk about politics, listen to good music (I'm hoping he'll like U2 as well). My grandfather grandmother held Lucas yesterday at my parents home. My parents both held Lucas. Lexi (my niece) held Lucas. My brother and sister each held Lucas. There will come a day when none of these people will hold Lucas. 

These moments are temporary. 

I sat in the home of a friend this afternoon almost four years into battling cancer. She has four kids. Beautiful kids. Smart and passionate. During the conversation in which our shepherds encouraged and blessed, we broke bread, drank of the cup, remembering Jesus who teaches us the temporary-ness of our existence. We celebrated Jesus. This Jesus had the uncanny ability to make every conversation, moment, friendship, opportunity--he made them all count. Probably because he recognized that to be human, on some level, is to live within the confines of the temporary.  I'm a follower of Jesus, in part, because he teaches us not just how to live but how to live well.   

The friend I spent time with has already buried a close friend due to cancer. She was from Hawaii, an amazing life-giving person who's smile is still remembered fondly in our church community.  

But, it doesn't last. 

One of my favorite poems is a Percy Shelley poem. It's called Mutability. Essentially, the point of the poem is that life has moments of sheer eternity. But the moments of eternity are short. Fleeting. Gone baby gone. "The flower that smiles today, tomorrow dies." 

Part of being a Christian, then, is learning to live in the God-tainted moments of our lives. Those single moments become, by the grace of God, a thousand moments.  

There's a Baby in the House

Here are the top clues indicating you might have a new baby living in your house:


There's a barely legible sign hanging on your front door that reads, "Mom, Dad, and baby sleeping . . . please come back another time."

Budget money reserved for Tigers tickets is now used on (very expensive) diapers.

Coffee is the new water.

The way you choose an acceptable shirt to wear to work changes from "what looks good?" to "which shirt does not have a drool stain on it?"

People are sleeping with one eye open.

You hear your wife say, in a sweet delicate voice, "Hey handsome," but she's not referring to you any longer.

You'd consider trading your car for an afternoon nap.

N.T. Wright is swapped for Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions.

You find yourself walking around your house at 2 a.m. with baby on your chest for twenty minutes without once ever opening your eyes.

You write a blog about your newborn son on your wife's 26th birthday (guess who came up with that?)

Abba Sings

If you have not read this inspiring slant on vocation, check it out.

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Aside from reading books about parenting (Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions being at the top of that list), I've been reading through Eugene Peterson's Tell it Slant. Thinking I'd read Peterson to balance all the baby/parenting stories and wisdom of the last seven days, I ran smack dab into the middle of this little nugget.

Peterson describes an experience he had while waiting to catch a flight in Germany heading to Israel. "A little boy near us, maybe four or five years old, jumped up and ran across the large room shouting , 'Abba! Abba! Abba! . . . ' and was swept up into the receiving arms of his father."

Peterson notes that this experience with 'Abba' was different than any other experience. "It was the first time I had ever heard 'Abba' in living speech. I had read the word in the Bible. I knew that in Jesus' mother tongue, Aramaic, it was the affectionate word for father, which would be common in family settings."

After listing the various biblical texts (Matt. 5-7; Rom. 8:15-16; Gal. 4:6) he realized that he'd neutered and domesticated the word. "I had encountered 'father' often enough in an academic setting around a table strewn with lexicons and exegetical studies. But I had never heard the word used in the living context of a son happily and trustingly greeting his father. I had never heard the word sing. I felt like I was back on that Galilean hillside in the company of Jesus as he prayed with his followers, in the garden with Jesus as he prayed his passion, worshiping with the Roman and Galatian Christians as they found themselves included in Jesus' prayer every time they prayed, Abba 'Our Father in heaven. . . . '" (Tell it Slant, 169-171).

Note: 1) There is a great deal of scholarly debate that I intentionally left out regarding "Abba" and its meaning in both First Century Aramaic and the confines of the New Testament writings. That's beyond the point of this post. Wright, Jeremias, Carter et al have done a superb job in dealing with this word (Abba) 2) For those of you who've had fractured relationships with your earthly father, I do not intend to feed you the evangelical bumper sticker line that "everything is okay now" because you have a "heavenly father" who looks after you. That's too simplistic for most of the pastoral counseling I've been a part of. I suggest you investigate the Psalms along with Donald Miller's To Own a Dragon.

Beauty

I’m a big fan of the song “You Are So Beautiful.” I like most (not all) of the versions that have been produced over the last few decades. Joe Cocker’s version is probably my favorite. There’s something deeply soulful about it. Something simple. Something beautiful.

The song fell out of favor in the Graves house a several years back. My sister, Kelly, walked down the aisle to this song in 1997 when she married her (now “ex”) husband Jory. It was the perfect song for a beautiful bride.

I was eighteen when they got married. On top of the world. Big hoop earring. Suffice to say I did not lack for confidence.

When she came down that aisle twelve years ago, I cried like Lucas did late last night. “Can’t you see? . . .you’re everything I hoped for, you’re all I need. You are so beautiful to me.”

But their marriage only lasted a few short years. It shattered into a million little pieces.

Last night, Kara and I are watching American Idol, Lucas is fast asleep and Danny Gokey busts out a hallelujah-filled version of “You Are So Beautiful.”

Context is everything.

If I’d heard that song last week, it would have brought back bitter memories surrounding my sister’s messy divorce. Broken hearts. Betrayed covenant. Fatherless little girl (my sister has a beautiful daughter named Lexi). My trip to Arkansas to stand by my sister during the divorce proceedings (my father was so upset he could not go).

But, we’ve had time as a family to heal. Kelly is now remarried to a gem, Major Ray Stemitz—a gentle man’s man if I ever met one. He’s a great husband to Kelly and an equally great father to Lexi. The wounds are still there for her but they aren’t as fresh. Actually, the wounds are now more like scars.

And Lucas is here. A new chapter for everyone.

When Gokey belted out that song last night, everything in the world, at least for a moment, felt good. Kelly’s in a healthy place in her own life. Kara’s an all-star mom. Lucas is rocking our world one dirty diaper at a time.

P.S. Kara recently wrote a great blog about the actual birth day.

The Table

Our close friends, the Barton family, brought us dinner tonight: sweet tea, pot roast, green beans, fresh rolls, and banana cream pudding. They also brought another good friend, Randy Harris, in town this week, teaching a short course at Rochester College. 

I told Randy three things: 1) I don't have a "go away" mat on my front porch 2) If I tell him to make himself at home he cannot reply, "Great. Go home." and 3) He can't leave until he gives Lucas a blessing. 

The blessing came unexpectedly. I explained to our friends that Kara and I are settling on Lucas playing baseball (since she loves football and I love basketball). Randy smiled his classic smile and looked at Lucas, "Lucas . . . mess your daddy up. Become a concert pianist." 

Of course, he's right. I don't care what Lucas does. I care about who he becomes. I'll teach him the sentiment that's framed my life for the last several years, "Don't ask what the world needs. Instead, ask what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people who've come alive." 

My Boy

Lucas Joshua Graves

8lbs. 10 ounces 21 inches

May 7, 2009, 6:12 P.M.

The Amended Birthing Plan

A few months back, I wrote my "ultimate guy birthing plan" after being inspired by our nurse at Beaumont Hospital during our first "birthing class." Here's what I wrote:

Kara and I recently started a birthing class offered at the local hospital where Baby Lucas will enter the world late April/early May. Our instructor (a really sharp and funny nurse) walked us through many important aspects of preparing for birth . . . mainly . . . you can prepare but you are never ultimately prepared.Some hospitals today allow parents to develop a birthing plan. That is, here's what the parents like to see happen in the ideal birthing situation. Call it consumer delivery with a touch of creativity.

Of course, my imagination perked up when I heard the words "ideal birthing situation." Here's what I envisioned when I heard those words.First, upon arrival to the hospital, Beethoven's Fifth will be playing quietly in the background. Upon entrance into the hospital, the famous Las Vegas announcer-guy will grab a mic (preferably a mic that drops from the ceiling) and announce to the world, "Ladies and Gentlemen . . . the hour we've been waiting for . . . let's get ready to rummmmbbbblllleee."

After that serene beginning, Kara and I will both receive robes that read Baby Daddy and Baby Momma on the back. Mine is white with blue trim. Kara's is white with green trim.As we approach the room where Lucas will enter the world, a rep from M&M's will offer me a lifetime supply of peanut M&M's for "the enduring trial I'm about to go through." I graciously accept and begin to devour a king size bag of God's favorite candy. I remind the M&M rep that Kara's the real hero in this drama.The mood needs to change so I slip an Enya CD into the CD player (my man card was pulled a long, long time ago).

Kara and I both get foot massages from a European massage champion. The lights are dimmed and we listen to scholarship offers from Duke (Coach K who has Kobe on the phone talking about how we would've gone to Duke had he not gone to the NBA right out of high school) and Roy (UNC baby) and Bill (KU's the leader at this point).

At this point, Nelson Mandela enters the room and reads to us from Letter from a Birmingham Jail. He then offers a South African blessing for Lucas's future. He ends by reading a prayer that is specifically written by Desmond Tutu. "Lucas, God has big dreams for you," are his parting words. Bono has also sent us a video message in which he sings Pride.Just then, things heat up. Kara is ready to deliver.

After thirty minutes or so, the moment has arrived. Queen is playing "We are the Champions" in the background, Stuart Scott is texting me for up-to-the-minute information. Lucas enters the world, I'm crying, Kara's crying and Lucas offers us the universal sign of stability; he gives us the peace sign.I do what any good dad would do. I ask the nurse if I can have the honor of cutting the umbilical cord. The nurse says, "Of course." With a Dwight Shcrute glimmer in my eye, I pull a large Samurai sword out and cut the umbilical cord in half, while yelling, "Freeeeeddddoooom. They can take our lives but they can never take our freeeddddoooommm."

That's the ultimate (guys) birthing plan. Of course, if you don't appreciate satire, this little piece will be lost on you. Kara's birthing plan is much more simple and realistic. Hey, a dad can dream can't he?

---

Now that we are on the eve of Lucas's arrival (Kara will be induced in the early morning), I think I will change my ultimate guys birthing plan to:

Kara and Lucas are healthy.
Lucas cries a lot.
I get to hold Lucas' feet in the palm of my hands.
Family and friends are present over the next few days.
I get to see my (twin) brother hold Lucas.
The Tigers beat the White Sox Thursday night while we watch from the hospital room (I could not resist).

Due Date

Today is the (second) official due date for Lucas Joshua. Here's what I wrote on my blog back in October when we were still processing the joy of this new life. We're still waiting. Patiently waiting for this little guy to turn our life upside-down and inside-out.

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Kara and I have been on many adventures together over the last several years. We’ve lived in Michigan (twice, once while dating, once while married), Nashville (Seminary and College), and Abilene (ditto).

We’ve traveled to many different places in the United States, usually catching a Major League Baseball game (Wrigley has been, by far, our favorite so far).

We’ve been to Hawaii and hit as many beaches as we could find. We just recently spent time in Paris, London and Uganda asking the question that’s been the theme of my life, “What is God up to anyway?”

We’ve been in the slums of Cass Park, finding ourselves in all kinds of unimaginable conversations and homes. We’ve broken bread with some of our homeless friends who are now, by the grace of God, off the streets. We even buried a few of our friends whose relationships, short-lived as they were, blessed our lives in gospel ways.

We’ve traveled deeper in our friendships with our small group of which we say all the time, “We are learning to do life together.” As a church family, we've traveled the path marked "missonal" learning from our mistakes.

But, we are now about to partake of a journey that will, in most ways, be all-together different than the other journeys mentioned.

Baby Graves will, by the goodness of God, join us on May 1st, 2009. Kara is eleven weeks pregnant for those curious . . . though you’d never know because she’s so skinny. If you happen to be at the Rochester Hills Public Library this week and find all the “baby name books” are checked out . . . now you know the whole story.

All Our Bags Are Packed . . .

We are in the final days of waiting for Lucas' arrival. We thought he'd be here by now (mostly because the doctors thought so also).

He's not.

I guess we might as well get used to things going a bit differently than expected. After all, we're about to be parents.

Our bags are packed. We are prepared, we think, for most scenarios that might present themselves in a suburban sprawl space hospital room in Metro Detroit (short of an invasion by Russian Warlords). Seriously, Kara's so thorough. I think we have ten MRE's, four sticks of dynamite (for any difficult people who might stop by), one extra oxygen tank, towel rack warmer for the warm shower I'm going to take from the stress of having this baby, and a briefcase full of twenty dollar bills just in case we need to bribe a nurse or two for extra ice cream. Wait, we're not having a root canal, we're having a baby. My bad.

We have clothes, back-up clothes, cell-phone charger, MacBook, MacBook charger, snacks, more food, books (cut me some slack . . . you never know), Kansas Jayhawks t-shirt to catch Lucas in (of course), and an autographed picture of Bono to put in the window. If Jesus had signed my "Joshua Tree" CD I'd put it in the window. He doesn't do autographs these days.

For those veteran parents and grandparents out there in cyberspace--what one thing would you suggest the Graves take to the hospital (serious or sarcastic answers welcome)?

Eviction

We are in the final stretch of pregnancy. At the ten week mark, Kara posted this on her blog regarding an eviction notice for Baby Lucas. If you know Kara, you'll appreciate this.


NOTICE OF EVICTION:

I am issuing a 90 day notice for EVICTION. Tenant will have 90 days in which he can either gather his belongings and promptly vacate the premises, or wait until the final day. After which, he will be physically removed from the property.He's being evicted due to breech of contract and destruction of property. Expansions only to the FRONT of the house, within reasonable limits, were discussed. Not only have these limits been exceeded, but additions to the back of the house were also made!Remodeling and gutting of the home was never approved, nor was changing the initial layout and base structure. And due to property damage, there are now leaks in both the upper AND lower levels of the home. On top of which, the landlord has received numerous complaints about nightly disturbances. After 90 days from this day that he doesn't comply with the notice will result in immediate and forceful removal at my discretion.

Love,

Mommy

The Ultimate (Guys) Birthing Plan

Kara and I recently started a birthing class offered at the local hospital where Baby Lucas will enter the world late April/early May. Our instructor (a really sharp and funny nurse) walked us through many important aspects of preparing for birth . . . mainly . . . you can prepare but you are never ultimately prepared.

Some hospitals today allow parents to develop a birthing plan. That is, here's what the parents like to see happen in the ideal birthing situation. Call it consumer delivery with a touch of creativity. Of course, my imagination perked up when I heard the words "ideal birthing situation." Here's what I envisioned when I heard those words.

First, upon arrival to the hospital, Beethoven's Fifth will be playing quietly in the background. Upon entrance into the hospital, the famous Las Vegas announcer-guy will grab a mic (preferably a mic that drops from the ceiling) and announce to the world, "Ladies and Gentlemen . . . the hour we've been waiting for . . . let's get ready to rummmmbbbblllleee."

After that serene beginning, Kara and I will both receive robes that read Baby Daddy and Baby Momma on the back. Mine is white with blue trim. Kara's is white with green trim.

As we approach the room where Lucas will enter the world, a rep from M&M's will offer me a lifetime supply of peanut M&M's for "the enduring trial I'm about to go through." I graciously accept and begin to devour a king size bag of God's favorite candy. I remind the M&M rep that Kara's the real hero in this drama.

The mood needs to change so I slip an Enya CD into the CD player (my man card was pulled a long, long time ago). Kara and I both get foot massages from a European massage champion. The lights are dimmed and we listen to scholarship offers from Duke (Coach K who has Kobe on the phone talking about how we would've gone to Duke had he not gone to the NBA right out of high school) and Roy (UNC baby) and Bill (KU's the leader at this point).

At this point, Nelson Mandela enters the room and reads to us from Letter from a Birmingham Jail. He then offers a South African blessing for Lucas's future. He ends by reading a prayer that is specifically written by Desmond Tutu. "Lucas, God has big dreams for you," are his parting words. Bono has also sent us a video message in which he sings Pride.

Just then, things heat up. Kara is ready to deliver. After thirty minutes or so, the moment has arrived. Queen is playing "We are the Champions" in the background, Stuart Scott is texting me for up-to-the-minute information. Lucas enters the world, I'm crying, Kara's crying and Lucas offers us the universal sign of stability; he gives us the peace sign.

I do what any good dad would do. I ask the nurse if I can have the honor of cutting the umbilical cord. The nurse says, "Of course." With a Dwight Shcrute glimmer in my eye, I pull a large Samurai sword out and cut the umbilical cord in half, while yelling, "Freeeeeddddoooom. They can take our lives but they can never take our freeeeddddoooommm."

That's the ultimate (guys) birthing plan. Of course, if you don't appreciate satire, this little piece will be lost on you. Kara's birthing plan is much more simple and realistic. Hey, a dad can dream can't he?

What's In a Name? Lucas . . .

Kara and I wrestled for a few months over what to name our first child (coming to a nursery near you in May, 2009). We had some basic criteria for selecting the name. Because we are having a boy, we wanted to be creative but not too creative. I'm now convinced that selecting a girl's name is far easier than choosing a name for your son. We've had a name for a girl picked out since we were engaged.

We wanted the name to be strong without sounding overbearing. We wanted the name to be clear without being trite. Paramount for me: I didn't want a name that could a) easily be turned into another name, b) rhymed with something inappropriate (I'm far too creative in this area and have years of sharing a room with a twin who, together, had the ability to rhyme just about anything), or c) conjure up images of past bullies and bad memories.

You might be wise to surmise that we were a bit analytical in this process. Hey, this is our first child. Wait 'til we start talking vaccinations.

We checked out several "name" books from our local library. We each made a list based on these books. When we compared the list, we did not have ONE single name in common. That didn't surprise us at all, however. We're learning to embrace how different God has made us.

All that to say . . . we feel really good about the name we've selected: Lucas Joshua Graves. Lucas (which has roots in Latin, Greek, English and Gaelic meaning "light") brings a strong clear name with some Biblical allusion (The Gospel of Luke, my personal favorite). Joshua because, well, what father doesn't love to have part of him on display in his son?

Having said all that, I'm convinced that the person really makes the name. But starting off on a good foot in this world is a good thing I suppose. After all, Lucas Joshua sure gives you a better chance than Herod Adolf.

God is Our Parent

I have some maxims I live by . . . little nuggets of truth that have served me well over the years. I don't talk much about them, but there are always there, in my head, rearing their neon sign when something in my life, or the lives of those around me, goes wrong.

One of those maxims goes like this: If you continue to treat a child as if they are the center of the universe, eventually they begin to believe it.

Today, in my class with Brueggemann he took that maxim from an 80 m.p.h. fastball to a 98 m.p.h (high and tight).

In certain sections of Torah, where God is depicted as a parent, we "Hall-Mark-ize" the stories. The discussion took several interesting turns and then came to a climax when Bruggemann told us about the work of D.W. Winnicott, an English Psychiatrist.

Winnicott's conclusion/contribution could be summarized this way: The health of almost any child is dependent upon a mother (parent) being "good enough"--that is, in the early days of the child, the mother must give herself over completely over to the health of the child. He defines "good enough" as being present, attentive, caring, present, and responsive. If the mother is unfit, psychopathic, negligent, absent, unsympathetic, the child (as an infant) will know within the first two weeks following the birth.

If the mother does not respond to the child's acting out. The child learns to act out, or perform in order that the mother will respond. Within the first month, the baby has developed two "selves" . . . the real self and the artificial self.

At about two years of age, the child must withdraw this constant attention lest the child become a narcissistic child who comes to seminary and can't handle an A-. We see this in some suburban parents who coddle and hover over their children who make them feel (which they believe) they are the center of the universe."

Is Yahweh a "good-enough" mother? This is question running underneath the story of the Old Testament. At times he comes near and pays intense attention to the children. But God also understands that as the child grows, he/she must learn to learn to walk without the constant attention of the parent.

For the contemporary church, many pastors and ministers have to learn how to deal with people who have been abandoned by their mothers and fathers and need "constant parental attention."
Ministers spend an inordinate amount of time trying to feel a need/missing space that they could never possibly fill.

By the way, a "not good enough" mother/father might be a stay-at-home mother/father, a working successful woman/man, a woman/man who lives in both worlds. The point is not to argue about social class warfare that exists in American and British culture . . . but to point out the central element of a parent's relationship to their child and the way in which our cultures are reaping the benefits and tragedies of abandoned children.

We Bring Good News

Kara and I have been on many adventures together over the last several years. We’ve lived in Michigan (twice, once while dating, once while married), Nashville (Seminary and College), and Abilene (ditto).

We’ve traveled to many different places in the United States, usually catching a Major League Baseball game (Wrigley has been, by far, our favorite so far).

We’ve been to Hawaii and hit as many beaches as we could find. We just recently spent time in Paris, London and Uganda asking the question that’s been the theme of my life, “What is God up to anyway?”

We’ve been in the slums of Cass Park, finding ourselves in all kinds of unimaginable conversations and homes. We’ve broken bread with some of our homeless friends who are now, by the grace of God, off the streets. We even buried a few of our friends whose relationships, short-lived as they were, blessed our lives in gospel ways.

We’ve traveled deeper in our friendships with our small group of which we say all the time, “We are learning to do life together.” As a church family, we've traveled the path marked "missional" learning from our mistakes.

But, we are now about to partake of a journey that will, in most ways, be all-together different than the other journeys mentioned.

Baby Graves will, by the goodness of God, join us on May 1st, 2009. Kara is eleven weeks pregnant for those curious . . . though you’d never know because she’s so skinny. If you happen to be at the Rochester Hills Public Library this week and find all the “baby name books” are checked out . . . now you know the whole story.

More (funny) stories to come . . . Is that a basketball in Baby Graves' hand?