Jesus Served Espresso

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[Photo by Jennifer Hopper]

I love serving my wife.

She works tirelessly for our family, puts in more hours than I do, and doesn’t get nearly as many accolades as she deserves.

She also loves real espresso.

As a result I love serving my wife espresso, knowing it’s a small gesture, surprising her each morning with a little cup and saucer of yummy rocket fuel.

Sure, we could’ve gotten an insert-packet-push-button-machine, but something about seeing her face light up makes the added work all worth it. Plus, I very much like the process myself.

But what if her face didn’t light up?

What if she didn’t do anything for our family?

What if she wasn’t beautiful, didn’t love me back, and had no interest in ever getting to know me? Would I still be as dedicated and excited to serve her espresso just knowing she had value as a human being at large? Would I still be as faithful?

Would you?

It’s easy to serve my wife. She’s remarkably fantastic. I benefit simply by thinking about her.

The real test comes when I ask myself how willing I’d be to serve espresso to strangers.

Non-paying ones.

That want to get me fired.

And then find out where I live.

And crucify me.

It’s our behavior toward people whom we get nothing from that reveals what kind of leader we truly are.

It’s amazing to think that Jesus forfeit his life to serve a Bride that he knew may never recognize his efforts. And he felt just as strongly about serving the soldiers that executed him.

My espresso may be good, but my motives have a long way to go. ch:

The Art of Celebrating

Serious question:

How do you feel when someone else wins?

No, stop. Don’t lie. I mean really wins. Like, your best friend wins on a $30 million lottery ticket.

What’s your first thought? OK. And your second?

Ah, see, there it is. “Me.” Somehow, “I” enter the thought process much more quickly than I’d like to admit. “Self” wants to participate. Instead of purely celebrate.

Last night Luik was told he would be heading home to Grandma Jo-Jo’s house.

Alone.

He was thrilled.

His older sister was not.

Parenting boys means keeping after the purely stupid things they do for no other reason than to see what happens. Parenting a girl means keeping after drama. Lots of drama.

When Eva finally started to descend from the delirium of her self-centered throes, I talked her through the concept of celebrating her brother’s blessing.

Now, mind you, Luik is by far our most sensitive, most sincere child.

Here’s what happened:

Eva walked into the living room to see Luik all dressed up and ready to go. She’s hugged him, still half-sobbing, and said, “Congratulations on getting to go to Jo-Jo’s house.”

Without missing a beat, Luik said, “Congratulations on getting to stay home.”

Of course all the adults in the room bit our fingers and held back laughter, trying not to ruin the lesson of the moment.

But what was the lesson? Perhaps there was more than just the obvious.

Learning to celebrate one another’s victories – and identify with defeats – is a core value of the Kingdom (Romans 12:15). In fact, much of the political turmoil I see in our nation could be averted if we’d kill jealousy with a healthy dose of genuine celebration. Entitlements to those who have worked hard to be entitled is a virtuous thing. But further still is the citizen of the Kingdom who understands he/she is entitled to nothing. Breathing is a gift. But the polar opposite is the person who feels they are entitled to anything at the expense of everyone else. This is the attitude of a child who was never properly parented.

But there is another lesson:

Learning to see that right where we’re standing is worth celebrating.

To Eva, going to Jo-Jo’s is going to Disney World. But she failed to see the value of where she was. In a home, with her family, and a new baby brother. Even though Luik was excited to leave, he was genuinely happy for Eva who was able to spend more time with Baby Levi and the family.

I’d say nearly every American – including myself – is so focused on what we wish we had that we fail to see the incredible blessing of what we do have. Correcting such an attitude is at the core of a contently lived life.

So try wishing yourself “congratulations” today. Not for where you’re headed. Or what you someday want. But for where you are right now.

Congratulations! ch:

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The Day the Sky Fell

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A clear blue sky.

On a Tuesday morning.

I was working in my office at MasterView SoundCrafts Recording Studios in Freeville, NY, preparing for the release of my second album, Please Come In, and a 30-state national tour.

That’s when my dad yelled up at me from the first floor. “Son. Get down here, quick.”

Obviously, I’ll never forget what I saw on TV. Or what it was like driving back-and-forth to Rochester, NY over that next week without a trace of a single police officer, local or state.

Some days it feels like the sky is falling. Buck up. For some people, it really did.

Savor life’s every blessing; remember those who lost it; and honor those who gave it up. ch: