Keeping it Together-ish

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Nahum 1:7 – The Lord is good, a strong refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in Him.

Am I a bad parent? I don’t know. Are you?

We all ask questions like that. Maybe not about parenting specifically, but about whatever we do. Some obsess about it. Just check Facebook.

Maybe they have a point. Odds are, you’re holed up in your favorite safe space—think bathroom—reading this right now. You’re well aware you’re needed in the next room to break up a family quarrel, and yes, reading in the bathroom could be interpreted as avoidance.

But this is your time. It’s sacred.

You’re enjoying your own little spa moment, sitting in an empty bathtub, one hand holding your phone, the other buried in the bag of M&M’s no one else in the house knows about.

But this isn’t what you would call wasting time. People don’t waste time anymore. We’ve renamed it. We call it recharging, resetting or decompressing. Whatever it is, you won’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve earned a few minutes of alone time.

Now, what was the question again? Ah, yes … Am I a bad parent?

Well, I’m not always the best role model. One time I told my son to behave like a man, so he took a nap on the couch. I’m not proud of that. Does that make me a bad parent? I don’t know.

But am I a good parent? I mean, my kids have most of their teeth. They’ve never shown up at school in their underwear—okay, once. But they were homeschooled, so no real harm done.

Let’s be honest: every generation of caregivers has found ways to check out to get some “fresh air.” So…Dad, Mom, teacher, coach…there’s nothing villainous about a needing to get away. The heroic thing is that you keep returning.

Parenting—like many callings in life—is about faithfulness. Half the battle is just showing up. So engage. Retreat. Recharge. Return. Engage again. Just keep being present.

And most importantly, we know where the M&M’s are.

— Tim Hawkins

Tim Hawkins will be at First West on October 9.

For information, go to our EVENTS PAGE!

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Tiny Mouse, Big God

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Matthew 6:26 – “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.”

The kids and I found a baby mouse once. It was so small it would not have filled a teaspoon. Now, if you know me, you know exactly what happened next. I am a big-time animal rescuer.

You might ask, “Why in the world would you want to keep a mouse alive?”

Well, I will tell you why. I love all of God’s creatures. Every single one. I see an animal on the road, and it buckles me every single time.

We got to work straight away. I rubbed its belly with a warm Q-tip, tucked it in a basket with a towel and heating pad, and fed it kitten milk every two to three hours. I even turned to my friends on Facebook for advice. That is how I learned you can use a small paint brush for feeding (less chance of it choking that way).

But despite all of it, the baby passed away anyway. I will not lie. That hurt. This was the second mouse we lost in few months. There was even a baby bunny in the yard not long ago.

I am tired of death. Sometimes I am just so ready for Jesus to return so nothing else has to die.

It was never supposed to be like this. Back in the garden, Adam named them all saying, “you are a tiger” and “you are a mouse” and none of them knew what death was.

That day will come again. God knows every ache that we feel in our chest, and I know He is righting every wrong.

I mean it.

Because I know there’s no way I’m better than God at anything.

If I can be over here giving Q-Tip belly rubs and paint brush dinners to a rodent, then I know God is infinitely better than that.

If He cares for the sparrow—and yes, the baby mouse—then I know He cares for me.

And that is what gets me through today.

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Finding Family in Faith

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Psalms 68:5-6a — “Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God places the lonely in families; He sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.”

I was anxious, yet so ready for this day to come. It was a day I had dreamt of for many years but unsure if I would ever see it.

Our son, Lennox was being dedicated to the Lord. Our church does it special for each baby. They have stood in the gap for us and prayed for this child long before he was born, so when we stepped onto that stage, it felt like a win for everyone.

My pastor spoke blessings over him, even sharing what his name meant. It was the kind of moment you wish you could hold on to and save for later. I couldn’t help but look around and glance at all the faces in the crowd of people who showed up for us.

Although many were there, I felt a pit in my stomach for who wasn’t. My family. None of them. They live hours away, and our lives aren’t as intertwined as they once were.

The hardest part was knowing my mom would have been there, cheering the loudest, if she could. But she is already in Heaven.

I almost found myself drifting to a place of despair, but in that moment the pastor called family and close friends up. That was the moment I remembered I was surrounded by love.

No, my loved ones could not be replaced, but I was amazed at how God had multiplied my community shoulder to shoulder with us. Praying.

As I looked to my right and left, I saw and felt the strength of those friends who had become family who I know will help us raise him in love.

And I’m sitting with this truth today. Yes, there will be tough moments in life where those you love cannot be there for you, but Jesus already knows and has already gone before you. He is preparing community for you through the Body of Christ.

You do not have to walk this alone or figure it out by yourself. He sends the right people before you even realize you need them. So, look around. Who is already standing beside you today?

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Dear Younger Me

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Hebrews 12:2 — “Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Bart Millard sat in his living room, watching a familiar face on ESPN. It was a friend he had known for years, now a professional athlete.

When the interviewer asked why he loved baseball, the answer was unexpected. He shared that as a boy the athlete had been abused by babysitters, but the baseball field was the only place they could not reach him.

Hearing that struck Bart deeply. He understood what it meant to need a refuge. For Bart, it was music. Growing up with an abusive father, he had carried shame like a heavy coat he could never shrug off.

After the interview, Bart reached for his phone and sent a message. The words came straight from his heart:

“If I knew then what I know now, condemnation would have no power. My joy and pain would never be my worth.”

He added, “And if I knew then what I know now, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out what I would have changed if I could have heard ‘Dear younger me, it’s not your fault. You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross.’”

His friend replied, “Man, I’m in tears.”

Months later, Bart sat down to write the song “Dear Younger Me.” When he opened his phone and saw that message again, it all became clear. The song was already written. All he had to do was give it a melody.

That moment, where the words fit together perfectly, felt bigger than anything Bart had done before. The lyrics felt like a door opening to a room where he could finally lay down the past—the guilt, the blame, and the suffering.

Pain leaves scars, sure, but what other people did to you, or even what they didn’t do, wasn’t your fault.

God wants to restore you, heal you, and take away your shame. Just like Bart’s friend found safety on the baseball field, maybe you can find your safe place too—at the foot of the cross.

Dear Younger Me . . .

What would you tell your younger self if you had the chance? Email us what you would say:
info@887thecross.com.

 

LYRICS

Dear younger me
Where do I start
If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far
Then you could be
One step ahead
Of all the painful memories still running thru my head
I wonder how much different things would be
Dear younger me

Dear younger me
I cannot decide
Do I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life
Or do I go deep
And try to change
The choices that you’ll make cuz they’re choices that made me
Even though I love this crazy life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother ride
Dear younger me, dear younger me

If I knew then what I know now
Condemnation would’ve had no power
My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth
If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard

Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross
Dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

Every mountain every valley
Thru each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be
Dear younger me, dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

Songwriters: Barry Graul / Bart Millard / Ben Glover / David Garcia / Michael Scheuchzer / Nathan Cochran / Robby Shaffer

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Praising Past the Pain

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Romans 12:12 — “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.”

I never knew joy and grief could sit so closely together. My sister and I were pregnant at the same time, but near the end of her pregnancy, she lost her baby. We planned a funeral. We stood graveside. We cried until we could not cry anymore.

But still, I was carrying life inside me.

It was a strange place to be—rejoicing in one heartbeat while mourning the loss of another. Every smile at my growing belly felt tangled with guilt. Every moment of her sorrow made me ache, because I loved her, and I could not fix what was broken.

I prayed daily for the strength to walk both paths—one of celebration, one of grief—without falling apart. Someone close to us said, “God will make something beautiful out of this.”

At the time, those words felt too far away to reach. But I held them anyway, like a small seed in my pocket, waiting for it to sprout.

The daily battle was hard continued to be hard, but I chose to keep worshiping because deep down, I knew God was still working in ways I could not see.

Looking back, I see beauty in that story where I never expected it. Not because the grief vanished, but because God is so good. He has a way of writing stories where sorrow and hope can share the same page.

Sometimes the greatest breakthroughs come when you keep walking, keep singing, and keep trusting. Because God is a good author, and he know what you and your loved ones are going through.

And long before you know how the ending will turn out, He has the end in mind.

— Kari Jobe

THE BLESSING

The Lord bless you
And keep you
Make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you
The Lord turn His
Face toward you
And give you peace

Amen

May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family
And your children
And their children
And their children

May His presence go before you
And behind you
And beside you
All around you
And within you
He is with you
He is with you

In the morning
In the evening
In your coming
And your going
In your weeping
And rejoicing
He is for you
He is for you

He is for you

Written by Steven Furtick, Chris Brown, Kari Jobe, Cody Carnes

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Wide Eyed and Wonderful Life

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Psalms 9:1 — “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.”

There are moments when life slows down. It’s like the whole world has paused and is holding its breath to see what happens next.

That’s how it felt in the at work that day. I was on the couch, laptop open, trying to focus. My wife Sarah was there. Her stepmom, GiGi, too—watching Reese for us.

Our little girl was still in that almost-walking stage—testing the waters, clinging to furniture, never daring to cross the open floor. Like many nervous parents, we wondered if we would ever see her take those first steps.

Don’t get me wrong. Reese had always been right on time with her development, so there was nothing to worry about. But for Sarah and me, this felt like our one hope right under the surface.

Then, out of nowhere, that little one-year-old got up and moved. As she lunged forward, I could tell she had it.

No wall. No couch. No hands. Just Reese, swaying, wide-eyed and toddling. One step, two, three, four, five. Five seconds of wobbly, glorious motion before she fell into her mama’s arms.

And it took my breath away.

In that Kodak moment, I felt everything. My whole chest swelled, my face flushed, and goosebumps covered my arms.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and she was running everywhere—into every room—climbing every surface, and moving faster than we could keep up. Those five seconds just became part of the everyday. I didn’t realize, along the way, that I had stopped noticing.

That’s the danger, isn’t it? God gives us moments that take our breath away, and then we just… move on.

God answers prayers, opens doors, and carries us into new places. But if we’re not careful, the extraordinary starts to feel ordinary. We begin walking like it’s no big deal, forgetting what it was like to take that first step.

So, I’ve been learning to slow down, to notice, and to remember with gratitude those days where I prayed for what I have right now.

Maybe today is ordinary. Maybe it’s messy. But what if you walk with God through it the way Reese wobbled across that break room floor—wide-eyed and expectant?

It might just take your breath away all over again.

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The Back-to-School Basics

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Proverbs 3:27 — “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.”

I am not sure I would enjoy back-to-school shopping these days.

I loved it back in the 80s. Back then, it was crayons instead of Chromebooks, aisles of clothes instead of apps, and number two pencils instead of passwords.

Mom and I would walk through the sliding glass doors of the department store, greeted by a blast of cool air and the smell of leather from the shoe department.

Racks of corduroy and plaid lined the aisles, and hangers clicked as families sorted through sizes. Over the store speakers, Cyndi Lauper or Huey Lewis played just loud enough for you to hum along.

We had our list—handwritten on notebook paper—tucked in Mom’s purse. There was no downloading a four-page PDF. No mobile app to check. Just a ballpoint pen to cross off items one by one.

I would head into the dressing room with armfuls of clothes, and she would wait outside, tilting her head and giving that look that said yes, no, or “maybe if it’s on sale.”

Sometimes we argued. I was sure those parachute pants were the answer to everything, but she disagreed. Still, we always left with our bags full and our spirits intact.

Those trips were more than errands. They were conversations in the car, food court pretzels with too much salt, and Coke Icees. They were the quiet moments when I knew, without her saying it, that she understood me better than anyone else.

Now, I see parents and adults in the thick of it—shopping from their phones in the pickup line, grabbing dinner between practices, and juggling logins and checklists. And I know many of them are wondering if they are making a difference in the lives of people God put in their lives.

But what if I told you that you still can?

Because for my mom, school shopping in the 80s was about building my confidence. That is what was top of her list. She also showed me she was glad to spend time with me. And she was curious. She asked questions that led to deeper connection.

See, that is something we are all still capable of doing. God is still equipping adults today to plant seeds for His kingdom.

So maybe the real question is not where you should shop but asking yourself: “whose backpack am I filling?”

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How Love Builds A Home

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Proverbs 11:25 — “A generous person will be enriched, and one who gives water will get water.”

The first time Gloria saw them, they were sitting close together, five little boys with eyes too old for their years. They had been left behind, and no one wanted them because they came as a set.

She had no husband and no savings worth talking about, but she had love. She knew it was not meant to stay locked up in her heart. So, Gloria brought them home.

Segun came first. Then Tunde. Then the twins, Ikenna and Ifeanyi, who doubled the noise in the house overnight. Last was Chuka, the baby, with his wide grin and sticky fingers.

It was not easy. There were hospital visits. School fees that never seemed to end. Nights when the cupboards were nearly bare. But there was also laughter—so much laughter. There were rainy days when they danced barefoot in the yard. There were Sunday mornings filled with biscuits and gravy and the sound of gospel music pouring out the windows.

They grew up faster than she wanted them to. One became a builder. Another started a charity. One moved far away to teach. Two wore police badges. But no matter where they went, they always came back home.

Then one day, they told Gloria to close her eyes.

Segun took his mother’s hand. Gravel crunched under their shoes as they led her forward.

When Gloria opened her eyes, she saw it. A brand-new house.

Now her brand-new house.

“You gave us a home when no one else would,” Tunde said. “Now it is our turn.”

She held her hands close to her heart, tears forming in her eyes.

She saw that God never lets love come back empty. She had given with the little she had, and God gave her a life richer than she could have ever imagined.

And I cannot help but wonder—if love can do this in that mother’s corner of the world, what could it do in yours?

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Spark the Change, Sister

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Luke 6:38 — “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

It was day one of the Live Original Conference. The covered plaza outside the Monroe civic center buzzed with the sound of women gathering, all coming to experience Jesus.

Knowing it would be a long day, I jumped into the concessions line to grab a drink. A few feet away, I spotted my friend Jade, and we started catching up.

The line moved slowly, but the conference was about to begin. When we finally reached the counter, the cashier told Jade they did not take Apple Pay. Her face fell. To get her drink, she would have to leave the line, find her debit card, and likely miss part of the opening event.

So I said, pulling out my card, “Don’t worry about it.”

She tried to say she would pay me back, but something inside nudged me to just help her—no strings attached.

I shook my head. “No, really. It’s on me.”

The next day, I found myself circling the merch booth, eyeing a hat I liked. I picked it up five times, then set it down again. Then I ran into Jade—already wearing that same hat.

I told her how much I liked it, and she smiled. “Do you want one?” she asked. Apparently, someone had gifted hers, and she wanted to do the same for me.

As I held that hat, I thought back to the concession line. It felt like a full circle moment.

No one planned it. No one kept score. But somehow, the kindness I gave away found its way back. That is the power of generosity—it does not stay in one place. It travels. It multiplies.

And it is never wasted. Sometimes the smallest spark can light up a whole community. God can use one act of generosity to cause a domino effect that shows back up when you least expect it.

This is the best part. You do not have to plan it. Someone just has to start it.

So why not you?

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Letting Go To Let Life Grow

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Psalms 90:12 — “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

Sometimes, when the house is quiet and Lennox is napping, I find myself scrolling through my phone. My feed is full of “mom content”—sweet little videos of babies laughing or taking their first steps, with soft music and captions playing in the background.

At first, it feels comforting—a brief escape from responsibilities. But then the captions hit: “They’ll never be this little again.” “You only get eighteen summers.” “You’re going to miss this.”

And there it is—that sinking, anxious feeling in my stomach. I came here to relax, but instead I’m face to face with the truth that time is slipping through my fingers.

Then all the questions start: Am I doing enough? Am I making the most of these moments I will never get back?

It sounds so dramatic, but it honestly makes me sad.

The joy I feel playing with Lennox slowly shifts into a panic. Things will never be the same. But in one of those moments, God spoke to my heart.

“He’s supposed to grow. He’s supposed to change.”

I sat with that truth. Lennox growing and changing is proof that he is alive. Thinking about how the good times don’t last always ever steals the beauty of the “right now.”

I want to encourage you with the same thing too. Change is scary, but I believe the best thing we can do is surrender all the good things back to Jesus.

So, I’m practicing open hands.

I take in the sweetness, I thank God for it, and then I release it back to Him. I choose to love Lennox today, and to trust God with His tomorrow.

And maybe years from now, when he is taller than me, I’ll understand this better. The best way to keep a moment is to fully live it.

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