On Friday afternoon, I left the comfort and quiet of my home and wife to spend the next two days in the middle-of-nowhere West Virginia… with nearly 40 high school students. These are the teenagers you’ve heard about, the kind that don’t get to bed till after 3:00AM; who don’t realize the sinking of the Titanic was an actual historical event; and who drink enough Red Bull to literally raise the dead. 

The special occasion was our high school ministry’s winter retreat, an annual ski trip planned for the weekend after Martin Luther King Day.  (On a side note – this was my first time skiing.  And it will probably be my last.  It’s hard.  I quit.)  We arrived at the hotel late Friday night, and promptly sent the kids to their rooms.  A few hours later, 8:00AM Saturday morning, we left for the slopes, where I spent all day tripping over the long, skinny boards attached to my feet.  I felt like a baby deer trying to walk – and failing miserably.  We closed out our retreat with a special worship service Sunday morning, one I won’t quickly forget. 

I’m the Creative Arts Pastor for Student Ministries at my church (a fancy title for “Praise and Worship Guy”).  One of my primary roles is as worship leader for our students – which means I play guitar and sing a lot.  Because of my position, I get to spend a lot of time with kids who show an interest in serving God through their musical talents.  After spending a few years in this position, I’m getting to the point where the kids are literally growing up in front of my eyes – the once awkward, shy middle schoolers blossoming into intelligent, funny and well-spoken young adults.  And one day, these kids might just push me out of my job.

You see, at our Sunday morning service, a band of four students led their peers (and me) in worship.  And they did a phenomenal job.  They picked their own songs, made their own arrangements, and ran their own practice.  I was there to observe, but for all intents and purposes, I wasn’t needed.  As I watched them rehearse, my mind raced back a few years.  I remembered the bassist and guitarist who, as 8th graders, had more enthusiasm than talent.  Back then, their strum patterns were off, the notes late, and sometimes, the guitars even out of tune.  And then there were the two vocalists, who as middle school students, sang in a key somewhere just above a whisper.  Those days, we counted it a victory just to get them in front of their peers, even if we couldn’t hear them above the guitars.  But that was then.    

On Sunday morning, those used-to-be-kids looked more like almost-adults, singing and playing without a hint of fear.  They believed the words of those songs – that God loves us, and wants to make beautiful things out of our lives – and they shared them boldly.  They’ve come so far, and I couldn’t be more proud of them.

In the gospels, Jesus introduces us to the Kingdom of God, a place where the poor are loved, the slaves set free, and repentant sinners valued above the most pious Pharisees.  In the Kingdom, what seems a contradiction is, in fact, great theological truth – in order to be forgiven, we must forgive others; to find life we must pick up our cross; to receive, we must first be willing to give.

After His resurrection, Christ gave one last command to His followers:  “Wherever you go, make disciples.”  A disciple, simply put, is a learner of Jesus who teaches others to be learners of Jesus.  The movement of the Kingdom of God is not unlike the spreading of a virus – one cell becomes infected, reproducing viruses that repeat the process with other cells until it covers the entire body.  In God’s plan, humans are the viruses, the engines that move His Kingdom throughout creation.  There is no plan B.  In a world obsessed with speed – 4G Internet, instant streaming movies, no-wait banking – we must come to terms with a very important truth:  most things worth doing can’t be achieved instantaneously.  And the same is true for making disciples; we cannot fulfill Christ’s final command overnight. Teaching others to be learners of Christ requires intentionality; commitment; time – literally giving your life to others.  It means passing on your knowledge, love and faith to those around you.  It means letting go of the pride that says you’re irreplaceable, and choosing to replicate yourself, to teach others to do the good work you can do – be that playing an instrument, teaching a class, or growing vegetables.  And maybe, just maybe, it means raising up your replacement.  Making disciples is dangerous work, but it is the only thing truly worth doing.   

Since starting ministry full-time, I’ve made a lot of mistakes – but spending time with those kids, teaching them what little musical skill I had and trying to model the love of Christ, is not one of them.  In fact, in many ways, they’ve already surpassed me.  I have no doubt, that in the future, they will become better worship leaders than I am now – which means no matter how many songs I sing or youth retreats I help plan, those kids very well may be the greatest gifts I offer the church.      

My grandmother has Alzheimer’s disease.  It started slow, some forgetfulness here and there, but recently it seems to be on the increase – a bullet train of decline my family is incapable of stopping.  Thank God, she still recognizes us – her husband, children, and grandchildren.  Sadly, though, she’s reaching a point where most words are losing their meaning.  Simple directions (“swallow your pills” or “open your mouth”) are difficult to process; carrying on a conversation is even harder; and writing is almost out of the question.

Like many women who grew up in the early 20th century, my grandmother was a prolific letter writer and card sender – birthday, sympathy, just-thinking-of-you – you name it, she’s sent it.  She’s an encourager, a spreader of love – as children, when she would cook breakfast for my brothers and me, she’d always remind us the scrambled eggs were “made with love” – her not-so-secret ingredient.  Food’s always been her primary love language.  It brought her such joy to fill your plate and then send you back for more – time after time after time.  Her next choice, when food was unneeded or unnecessary, was a card.  Growing up, I received binders full of beautifully handwritten notes from her, words of encouragement and wisdom in her humble, well-worn cursive.  Time seems to have put an end to my grandmother’s handwritten notes, but its powerless to stop her cards.  Finding it even difficult to sign her name at times, my mother has stepped in to fill the void, handwriting all my grandmother’s notes and cards in her stead.  The torch is being passed.

Yesterday afternoon, I began to discover just how much those cards mean to me.  While trying to help my wife organize our new house, I ran across a stack of birthday cards from December 2010.  There, in the middle of those long-forgotten well wishes from friends and family, was a handwritten card from my grandmother.  She offered birthday blessings and expressed her love – and like every card I’d ever gotten from her, a carefully chosen scripture verse was written on the inside cover.  “Know ye that the Lord, He is God,” she wrote, “We are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.”  And then it dawned on me: that very well may be the last hand-written card I’ll ever receive from her. 

That scripture, an excerpt from Psalm 100, touched my very soul.  I read the words again and again, until the tears welling up in my eyes made it impossible to see.  Those words, that gentle penmanship, it broke my heart – because life is unfair; because I hate to see what time and sickness have done someone so dear to me; and because, even now, as my grandmother’s disease unmercifully marches forward, those blessed words of scripture are still true. 

Our Father, our God, our Shepherd, has called us to Himself – and just like a marriage, for better or worse, He remains our God, and we His people.  I hate what this disease has done to my grandmother, and the Good Shepherd knows that – but despite the questions, the heartache, the tears, there is peace, an overwhelming knowledge that, just as the pot does not dictate its purpose or shape to the potter, the sheep do not rule over the shepherd.  I admit, at times, it’s been hard to believe – but somewhere deep down, I know that God is good; that despite our broken world, a better one is coming; that we weren’t created to live a life of faithfulness and then have our memories stolen from us – and yet even that cannot rob our God of His goodness. 

My grandmother may never again be able to articulate a thought that complex, nor have the ability to write the words of Psalm 100 in her own hand – but I know, even in this state, in the twilight of her life, she continues to believe that the Lord is God; that He is our God; and that we are His people.  And that, in some small way, helps me continue to believe – in fact, that’s an appropriate legacy, for that’s what my precious grandmother has always done.  

Early in his writing career, the late-journalist and Kentucky-native Hunter S. Thompson took a novel approach to improving his craft – he sat down at a typewriter and copied other people’s work.  He wasn’t plagiarizing; on the contrary, he was learning.  Page-by-page he typed, until he’d duplicated the entirety of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.  After that, he moved on to Ernest Hemmingway’s A Farewell Arms.  He wanted to be able to write a masterpiece, to choose the most precise words and be able to string them together in sentences and paragraphs that would move readers.  So he identified authors that did precisely that, and he imitated them… word for word. 

Who are you imitating?  In his first letter to the church at Corinth, the apostle Paul encouraged his readers to “follow [him] as [he] follows Christ.”  Children aren’t the only ones who need role models – so who is it that you look up to?  Who do you know that lives a profound faith, fearlessly following Christ at all costs?  Imitate that person.  Do you know someone that ruthlessly loves their family, sacrificing their own good to care for their spouse and to raise their children?  Imitate them.  Are you friends with a man who incarnates humility, or a woman who’s every thought is one of kindness and gentleness?  Imitate those types of people.  Find your Paul (or Pauls) and learn from their lives, soaking in their wisdom and imitating their steps – in the process, you just may find yourself walking closer to the Messiah as well.

But there is a second (and more dangerous) question we must ask ourselves:  is our life worth imitating?  Is there anything other believers can learn from watching us live our day-to-day lives?  Would it be healthy for a newly-married couple to imitate your marriage?  Does your family life offer sound advice to new parents?  Would your work ethic be a good influence on students?  And most importantly, what does your relationship with Christ teach those who are looking up to (and even imitating) you? 

The answers to those two questions can be life-changing.  But you must excuse me, I’ve got some C.S. Lewis books to start copying.

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I have a confession to make:  I’ve never cared much about New Year’s Eve.  I realize loads of people anticipate its coming likes it’s the second Christmas, celebrating by getting dressed up, throwing confetti on strangers, and slow dancing to Frank Sinatra songs – but that’s just not me.  This year, to celebrate the demise of 2012, my wife and I staged our own Walking Dead marathon.  The last episode literally ended at 11:59PM, giving us enough time to stream the ball drop online before heading to bed.  Hooray 2013. 

Even as a child, I only liked New Year’s Eve because it gave me an excuse to stay up late.  How could a day without presents be considered anything worth celebrating?  It should come as no surprise, then, that I almost never made New Year’s resolutions growing up.  I remember one – in high school I set my mind to reading the entire Bible in a year, a goal that died a slow and painful death somewhere in the icy waters of Leviticus.  Until two years ago, yearly resolutions had no place in my story.    

I heard recently that 88% of people never achieve their New Year’s resolutions – sometime in the course of the long year, they give up on their dreams.  For most of my life, I lived in that silent majority by simply never even bothering to make a resolution – either out of a false self-confidence that told me I needn’t change a thing in my life, or a crippling self-doubt that left me feeling I’d never be able to achieve my goals anyway.  But that all changed in January of 2011; prompted by some close friends, I set out to read the entire Bible.  Although I didn’t stay on schedule, I managed to finish the entire book before the last hours of that year faded.  Nothing’s had such a profound effect on my spiritual life than reading (and beginning to understand) the entire story of God and man.  Simply incredible.  Propelled by the life-changing success of that resolution, I jumped into 2012 with the goal of trying twelve different month-long challenges, blogging about each one.  I dubbed it the “Year of Change,” and did everything from eating a strict vegan diet, to listening to only Christian music, to trying to keep the Old Testament Law.  At least in my book, it was, like my Bible-reading goal, an overwhelming success.

Which brings me to 2013.  Sure, I’m eleven days late on my resolutions – but hey, at least I haven’t given up on them yet.  Instead of twelve month-long challenges, this year I’m choosing to focus on four broader goals, things that can’t be achieved in 30 days or less.  These are life-altering resolutions; luckily, I’ve still got 354 days left to chip away at (and blog about) them.  In my world, 2013 is the “Year of More,” twelve months devoted to focusing on:

More Mileage
Two years ago, I set my mind to running my first half-marathon (13.1 miles).  I achieved that goal in October of that year when I completed the Iron Horse Half-Marathon in Midway, Kentucky.  This year, I’m setting my sights on another bucket list item: a full marathon.  And I’m totally using it as an excuse to take a sweet vacation as well.  My sights are set on October 13th, and the 36th annual Chicago Marathon.  I ran six miles today… now if I could only add twenty miles to that, I’d be in good shape. 

More Rest
One of my monthly challenges last year was to learn to slow down and rest – and I did okay, but as soon as that month ended, I jumped right back into my brand of break-neck workaholism.  No matter how I try to justify it, that is just not the type of lifestyle a child of God should live – and so this year, I’m focusing on embracing the holy idea of Sabbath.  Ordained by God on the last day of creation, and fully outlined in the Old Testament law, one of my goals for 2013 is to practice the Sabbath by setting one day a week aside for rest, prayer, and relaxation.  God’s given me a gift of 52 snow days this year – my goal is to learn to embrace them.

More Celebration
As a result of my never-slow-down attitude toward life, I find myself always pushing forward, rushing on to the next big thing.  Because of this, I seldom slow down long enough to celebrate – and that is a travesty.  God has, and is still doing, some amazing things in my life and this year, while learning to rest, I’m also hoping to pick up the long-lost art of celebration.  In the past month alone, I’ve managed to achieve two life-long dreams: getting married and having my first book published.  These are huge milestones worth celebrating.  (Shameless plug:  there’s very exciting news about the official release of my book coming in the next few days!)  Besides that, 2013 also happens to my 28th year of life – making it my fourth Jubilee.  And in 2013, I fully intended to celebrate that, Old Testament style!

More Creativity
There was a lot to love about last year’s monthly challenges, but in the end, they did have one unintended effect – limiting creativity.  How many blogs can you write about the mind-numbing state of Christian radio in a month anyway?  This year, I’m excited for my blog to once more become a la carte, full of the (sometimes random) thoughts and life lessons I’m learning on a daily basis.  To go along with this quest for creativity, I’m also going to strike out into new territory:  fiction.  I’ve written a few short stories, yet for whatever reason, never published them on my blog.  This year, I hope to finally share some of those, as well as some new stories I’ve got up my sleeves.  I’ve also got a much longer tale percolating in my head (my next book perhaps?)… and maybe, just maybe, I’ll share some glimpses of that as well before the year ends.  All I can know for certain, though, is that in 2013, on this blog, creativity will reign.

2013 – my third year in a row making a New Year’s resolution, and right about now, they’re looking like my most challenging undertakings yet.  More mileage. More rest.  More celebration.  More creativity.  Here’s hoping the third time really is a charm – and that on December 31st, I can count myself, once more, among the 12%.  

Well, we've proven the Mayans wrong, and the new year's officially been rung in.  In my world, 2013 is being dubbed "The Year of More."  For now, we'll leave it at that, but check back soon... because everyth  You'll want to check back soon, everything's changing!