You can't have your cake and eat it too

I think I've put my finger on one of the most terrible effects of the Fall.  I'm sure I'm not the first.

I sense it on a long holiday weekend, when the enjoyment of anticipated rest time is overshadowed by the knowledge that the next day will be a return to routine.

I sense it when I'm sitting in my home library, looking at all my unread books, and all the books I've read but want to re-read, and also the 7 or so I'm currently in the middle of, and find myself paralyzed by the options and by the needling sense that I really only have 20 minutes to sit, and the seconds are ticking even as I peruse the titles.  I find myself wondering if it's even worth opening a volume, because by the time I'm engrossed in the subject matter, it will be time to move on to the next task.

I sense it when the glorious quiet of a Friday afternoon has arrived, when Zeke is at school and the girls are down for naps, and an hour's worth of productivity or rest is before us... and yet there is this acute awareness of the seconds passing even as we try to enjoy them, this persistent sense of the finite nature of the moment.  With or without interruptions, it often feels like those minutes have passed before we've even had the opportunity to enjoy them.

I sense it when, for whatever reason, I find myself awake in the middle of the night (usually because a child has made an unscheduled visit to our room).  I first check the time, let out a deep, relieved breath that there are still hours until dawn, but then immediately start doing the math: "Even if I fall asleep right now, that still only gives me x hours until the alarm goes off..."  The next day's weariness sets in right then and there, before the sun has even had the opportunity to rise.

I feel it in the conflicted desires I feel to run screaming and wild with the kids, but also sit with Tara and listen to our records and sip our coffee and talk... but what about the stack of books I want to get through (see above)?  And what about all the house stuff that has to get done, that we've been putting off because it isn't urgent?  And when are we ever going to clean out the cars and the garage?  And what about exercising (pfft!)?  There is simply not enough time to do all of these things.  Tara and I complain about our energy and productivity levels, and the frustration we experience of wanting to be home and resting on the days when our schedules are exploding, and of feeling productive and motivated on the days when all of our plans are falling through.  I desire to sit and write daily, but typically when I have time to actually do some uninterrupted typing, that cursed muse just doesn't want to provide any creative juices.  On the other hand, when we're scrambling to get out the door by a certain time, I am chock full of ideas that will all get lost in everyday errand-running and calendar-keeping.  Our desires resist our attempts to schedule them.

I sense it during the seasons when I have a full ministry calendar, chocked with great opportunities to preach, study, disciple, and meet with other believers.  And yet there's always a home I'm leaving to accomplish these things.  I am so energized by worship rehearsals and conferences and weekends away with brothers in Christ, but all of these things represent late nights, travel, and things that keep me from precious time with the kids.  Home with my family is my absolute favorite place to be.  And yet, I have a privileged calling to serve God's people, and I am truly fulfilled in carrying out that role to the best of my abilities, even if it means sacrificing much time to do so.

I feel it when I consider the places I would love to visit -- Greece, England, Israel, the national parks, etc -- and (cost notwithstanding) realize the unlikelihood that I will ever be able to put my feet on any of those soils and also be a financially responsible adult.  Even if we started planning yearly trips now, we will reach but a small fraction of the globe before our lifetime expires.

Maybe all of this strikes you as cushy and simple.  Selfish, even.  It feels that way to me too.  And doubtless, lots of privilege is being exposed here.  Maybe it's just the product of getting older or being a parent, or maybe I've lost my ability to be truly and fully present in any given moment.  Whatever the root cause, I sense such a heaviness around time passing that I don't remember feeling in years past.  And so, I keep coming back to that tired old adage that it's impossible to hold on to the things we want to enjoy, and that by trying to hold onto them so tightly we make it impossible to truly enjoy them.  We shouldn't cling to what is meant to be enjoyed in the present.  Cake is meant to be eaten, savored even, but consumed soon after the baking -- not stored in a poorly ventilated English basement for 6 decades (see Seinfeld, S9 E18).  Display cases keep us from meaningful appreciation, and are ultimately just one more thing to be dusted.

I was also recently reacquainted with the famous journal entry by missionary Jim Elliot, who would give his life in Ecuador for the sake of the gospel: "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."  Jesus' words clearly meant much to this faithful disciple (compare Matt 16.26; Mark 8.36; Luke 9.25; John 12.25).  It yields no benefit for a man to lose his soul to gain the whole world, in all of its temporary glory, when surrendering the best this life has to offer is the route taken by those who have entrusted their souls to the Lifegiver for eternal safe-keeping.  There is rich and abiding wisdom in differentiating the myriad things we can't keep anyway from the one singular thing that can't be taken: that one thing which we could never do anything to earn, and which is not ours not because of our power to hold it.

Further, there's ancient truth in the realization that God has put eternity into the hearts of His image-bearers (Ecc 3.11).  With sin in the picture, that means we will constantly experience the tension between what is eternal and what is transitive, what is passing and what is yet to be.  To have both this current minute and to anticipate the next one, but to know from the evidence of the minute past just how fleeting is the present one...  This is the problem of being finite.  Of being temporary and knowing it.  It's the desire to relish each and every grain of sand falling through the hourglass, to pause the flow, to reverse it.

I started by calling this knowledge one of the worst effects of the fall.  Other disastrous effects of sin in the world are nothing to diminish.  I can't say from experience what carrying a cancer diagnosis or severe bodily impairment is like.  I also can't personally describe the depths of loneliness and isolation that have defined the lives of others.  For some in these positions, the brevity of time might seem like a blessing, or perhaps their perception of time is that, in the suffering, it slows to an unbearable crawl.  When things like grief, sickness, guilt, and fear are all rampant in the fabric of our existence, it's difficult to seriously quantify any other negative experience as being more terrible.  And yet, when I consider this subtle undercurrent that gives an inescapable context to all mortal experience, it feels like a heavy, sorrowful thing that manifests in every small moment.

In the end, these persistent things are intended to point our affections and hopes toward New Heavens and New Earth, where moth and rust and time and all other corrosive forces have been permanently barred from touching the Lord's Beloved or anything that is theirs by virtue of the atonement and a new birthright.  What peace to know that we stand in the ranks of the redeemed, the unworthy ones elevated to sons and daughters of the Holy King of Righteousness and lifted above the power of the curse!  Therefore, instead of the thorn, we may enjoy the myrtle and the cypress, and trade all empty, temporary substitutes for bread and wine and living water that truly satisfy. 

Maranatha!

12 "church-goer" tropes

Throw a stone just about anywhere in America and you might hit a church.  Even for those raised outside of church culture, Judeo-Christian ethics and norms are well documented, and the average American may even be able to differentiate some of the theological particulars between denominations.  This makes sense, since only 28% of American citizens report being religious "nones" -- that is, those who hold an atheistic / agnostic perspective and lifestyle with no religious affinity whatsoever (stat per Pew Research).  However, if the 72% remainder do identify with a particular religion, that's a lot of people who at some stage have gone or are currently going to church.  This data begs a lot of questions.  For me, I'm particularly curious in knowing why people go to church, and how they define what "church" actually is.  What is it they are looking to accomplish by attending?  What are the practices of those counted in that 72% who consider themselves "spiritual" but not "religious" (i.e. believing in God, praying, etc, but not actively practicing their faith as part of a group)?

Ecclesiology (i.e. how to understand and define "church") is a rich and nuanced topic.  Most Christian schools of thought will agree that "church" is less a place than a community -- the people of God gathered, as opposed to the four walls in which they congregate.  However, all sorts of commercial Western notions have introduced subtle variations to this definition, such as viewing the church more as a 501(c)3 non-profit; as a group of majority voters ("shareholders") governed by a board of directors; as a thing legally quantifiable by its financial holdings, monthly giving totals, and number of available pews.

Depending on which view of "church" is held, I've found that church-goers more or less fall into 12 general types of church-goer.  I'm obviously coming at this from a Protestant's lens, though these definitely will find parallels in Catholicism and Judaism.  There are obviously too many nuances to capture all prototypes, so I've opted to focus on four areas commonly associated with religious observance: 1) attendance, 2)  official membership, 3) serving, and 4) giving.

Before diving in, here are a few contextual notes and definitions for those 4 qualifiers.

1. Attendance.  A 2022 survey found that only about a fifth of Americans attended church or synagogue on a weekly basis (per statista.com).  I've found it to be the case that even those who are officially registered members of their churches only average twice a month Sunday morning attendance.  Since most churches offer midweek services, programs, and other gatherings, the once a week stat probably still holds true for the average congregation.

2. Official membership.  Each church operates under a different philosophy for membership.  Many Protestant churches eschew the concept altogether, since all believers are members of the universal Body of Christ by virtue of faith in Him.  Other churches insist on membership as an arbitrary mechanism that comes along with tithing (giving).  Others still utilize it as a process as a teaching and protection mechanism for their congregations.  In the tropes below, I've mostly assumed official membership as a volitional commitment on the part of the church-goer.

3. Serving. This is the act of volunteering time, skills, and resources to the ministries of the church.  Those church-goers who are especially committed to these things might also be asked to serve in an official capacity as church deacon or elder.

4. Giving.  Commonly called "tithing," this for many churches is the sign of official commitment to the local body, and may be the act on which official membership hangs.  Many of the 72% of Americans who identify as religious practice tithing without actually attending their church.

Onto my tropes.  Are you in this list?  Am I?  Maybe even twice?

1. The “Creaster” -- This first one is obligatory and obviously not original to me.  Regardless, this church attender is the one who only darkens the doors of their church on the major holidays and for special life events (family baptisms, funerals, holiday services, etc).  They probably still consider the local church they visit "their" church and may even be an official member there.  They possibly support this church by giving, likely in larger but infrequent amounts.
   
2. The Streamer -- This church "attender" type originated in the mid 2010s with the advent of streaming technology, but which truly began to flourish in the Covid era.  This church "goer" rarely to never sets foot physically inside a church building, but probably considers the church whose services they view "their" church.  They possibly support this church financially and may even be an official member (from the time back before they stopped physically participating).
   
3. The Jetter -- This church attender participates in services at their local church, but keeps interactions with other members of that church to a minimum -- beyond "hello" and "goodbye" in the parking lot, or brief conversation with the small circle of friends with whom they tend to sit.  This individual likely considers the church they attend "their" church and may even be an official member. They likely support this church through giving and consider that financial support their due input, as opposed to serving.
   
4. The Hopper -- This church-goer attends church regularly, but in many different local church communities, either chasing interesting sermon topics or avoiding the ones that might get too personal.  They show up for a time with one local church gathering, then disappear to another, never setting down roots anywhere.  This individual likely gives and serves in the same manner, as they feel compelled, wherever they happen to be currently attending, but finds it impossible to become an official, committed member anywhere.
   
5. The “Common Law” Member -- This church-goer has been faithfully attending, giving, and serving at the same home church for years but has never gone through any official membership channels, likely a) because they were burned in the past by a previous church family, or b) because they insist on a chapter/verse prooftext for membership practices.  They claim that higher membership to the Universal Body of Christ and demand (when asked) to know what privileges they don't already possess (or what responsibilities they aren't already fulfilling) that becoming a member would grant them.
   
6. The Emergent Hippie -- This church-goer likely doesn't have a church they consider home, because they "follow Jesus," aren't really into "organized religion," and take issue with the way the whole 501(c)3 thing originated anyway.  They don't participate in giving, abhor membership, and don't pay attention to any church's programs or serving opportunities.  Like the "Common Law" Member, this individual may have also witnessed the ugliness of church politics or endured a church split, and now differentiates him/herself by considering him/herself "liberated" from church.  They may frequent various local bodies, but more likely worships God on hikes or in coffee houses and considers the homeless community they serve on Sunday mornings "their church."  This individual is almost certainly an outspoken evangelist in the wild.
   
7. The Self-Flagellant -- This church-goer is involved in everything, all the time: if the doors of the church facility are unlocked, they're present (and if they happen to be elderly and/or retired, they are likely on-campus 15+ minutes early).  Serving is just what they do.  Their commitment to be so heavily involved may be in lieu of giving (because they believe they can't afford to contribute), or they may consider every available cent they have to be the property of the church.  They are almost certainly an official member.  Because of these patterns, they likely have a poor theology of rest and often seem frazzled at their normal post.
   
8. The Suit and Tie -- This regular attender, giver, and probable member is punctual and upbeat and always "blessed," refusing to acknowledge the existence of any hardship or burden even if it is public knowledge.  They serve often and may frequently cross paths with the Self-Flagellant, but whereas the former may be willing to give voice to their challenges, the Suit and Tie would rather seek spiritual help outside of their church (if at all), to avoid the discomfort of being vulnerable.
   
9. The Clan Member -- Every church (it seems) has that one last name that dominates the church directory (oftentimes, by sheer coincidence, it just so happens to also be the last name of one of the pastors, go figure).  This individual attends the same church with their parents, siblings, cousins, and more; if one family decides its time to pack up and leave, the rest will follow.  The Clan Member likely checks all the boxes of attending, serving, and giving, because the rest of the clan will give them grief if the norms are not observed.
   
10. The Sunday-to-Sunday -- This individual can't miss a Sunday gathering because each time is like a new salvation experience after the steady emotional and spiritual desert of the regular work week.  This individual is a member almost without fail, likely checks the tithing box, but only serves if there are weektime ministry opportunities, because they could never bear to miss being present for the worship service.
11. The Weektimer -- The opposite of the Sunday-to-Sunday, this individual is never present on a Sunday morning, but never misses midweek Bible study and may even be engaged in one of their church's connection groups.  Because they are never present with the whole church family, they may give occasionally out of a sense of guilt; however, due to work obligations or lifestyle, they consider themselves never available to serve and postpone official membership indefinitely for a time when their patterns have changed.
    
12. The Influencer -- This individual is a part-time attendee and part-time livestream-viewer, but they will always find some way to share their opinions about all things good, bad, and ugly.  Their propensity to be vocal about the way things should or shouldn't be only goes up the more committed they are to giving.  Likely, this individual serves only in one-off kinds of capacities, because they find it hard to follow the instructions of a team leader, and are annoyed by the inability of fellow team members to do things the right way.
    

Amusing?  Or too close to home?  Are there tropes I missed that you've seen far too regularly?  What does a “perfect” church-goer look like, anyway?  Is there an ideal persona in the above list that we should be aiming for?

I write this post not just to poke fun.  I think there are several things each of us "church-goers" needs to do, especially if we take our faith seriously.

First, we need to evaluate how we view church.  Is it an arbitrary or familial responsibility?  Is it a place to go to keep me out of trouble?  Is it a place to grow and to serve?  Is it a more wholesome form of entertainment, and if so, can't I just safely consume that from behind a screen?  Is it a place to rack up community service hours?  Is it place for refreshment and spiritual nourishment?  Is it a commitment to something outside of myself?  Is it on specific gathering of believers, or a timeless, universal entity encompassing all believers everywhere?  Is it an identity, a community with which I am spiritually and corporately joined by virtue of my personal union with that body's Head, which is Christ?

The definition on which I land provides me with a bit of a vision statement, impacting and guiding all of my religious priorities and practices.  Where we find ourselves on the spectrum of ecclesiology likely dictates our sense of responsibility to the body, the importance it takes in our lives, and whether we come to it primarily as consumers or as contributors, constituents or benefactors.

When was the last time you tried to answer some of those questions above?

Second, when it comes to church practices, we need to be in a state of continual growth.  Whether we admit it or not, we all hate change.  Even those who claim to want to change things up all the time only want to do that by their moderation and approval.  So we all secretly (or not so secretly) want a church that doesn't ask too much, where we can sneak in and out when we don't want to be noticed, and that caters to our preferences.  But existing perpetually at that kind of equilibrium is the equivalent of spiritual stagnation.  Growth is a lifelong process of maturation.  Whether we are actively investing in our growth or not, we are always learning -- sometimes we are learning bad habits that harden our hearts and hone our practices in such a way that we become increasingly resistant to being moved in the future.  All of this means we need to be in the business of regular self-evaluation.  What is my current relationship to God and how is He calling me to go deeper?  What are my current church-going practices?  What needs to change?

For some, a period of intentional rest is critical, but not indefinite.  For others, a greater financial commitment to the local body that is ministering to them is the important next step.  For others still, getting out of the pew or off of the couch to be truly relational with their local body is not only necessary, but critical and life-giving.  Christian fellowship is not merely sharing a potluck meal on occasion.  Rather, it is living out our faith in community with other like-minded believers who will altogether sharpen one another by asking good questions and bear up under each other's burdens together when the going gets tough.

We need to combat our tendency to drift into perfunctory religiousness that makes us feel good about ourselves.  Ironically enough (as far as this post is concerned), the church attendance calendar, official membership, the tithing box, and the serving regimen are NOT the most effective metric for evaluating the quality of our spiritual lives.  In fact, those things by themselves profit nothing for eternity.  Their emphasis in an individual's life reveals one of two things: either a) a rich appreciation for the gospel, or b) the general human tendency to assume a works-based model for eternal security.  Religion that is truly effective does things, absolutely, but it originates from legitimate, heart-changing faith (see James 1 and 2).  Salvation is a work of God, not of our piety or innate goodness (see Ephesians 2).  Robust works must follow robust grace!  Religiousness might be good in many ways for society, but in and of itself has no power to grant any practitioner entrance to heaven.  Therefore, if we are merely appeasing our sense of guilt, keeping face with other church-goers, or just carrying out our parents' wishes, we are truly missing out.  Our salvation is for the joint purpose of knowing God intimately, celebrating His greatness, being transformed to be more like Him... and in so doing, also becoming more effective ministers to others.

So let's keep going to church, but let's not do it out of guilt or habit.

Let's go so we can be reminded weekly about the truth of the gospel, the power of the Scriptures, and the ongoing work of the Spirit within the lives of true believers.

Let's go and be fully present and vulnerable so we can increase our sense of interdependence within the community of faith.

Let's go and be fully committed to doing all the things that mark effective religion, because we've been rescued by a Savior who eternally committed Himself to us.

Let's go, but without a consumer mindset that assumes church is primarily about the spiritual ideas I receive and more about an opportunity to grow in my faith while I also contribute to helping others grow in theirs.

And frankly, let's go to a new church and put down roots there instead if the values expressed above are just not present in your current faith community.

Parenting pride, frustrations, and just (?) causes for temper flares

I'm so proud that my children are likeable.  Unless people are routinely lying to my face, the general consensus seems to be that all three Carlton nuggets are smart, cute, kind, well-mannered, attentive, and fun.  They seem to make friends easily, charm adults, and take super amazing pictures (evidence <--).

So why is it that I so often find myself infuriated by these tiny, amazing, human beings?

Why do I get so quickly irritated with them?  How many "last nerves" have they proverbially trampled to render me so easily frustrated?

Total transparency: bedtime is my least favorite time of the day, followed closely by time to leave for school and mealtimes that involve anything other than cereal, mac n cheese, hotdogs, or spaghetti.  My oldest moves only at "Carlton" speed (Tara's little inside joke, maybe a subtle dig at yours truly's laid-back nature, not sure if I should be offended, probably irrelevant if you're still reading this parenthetical).  My middle child moves only at lightning speed, with thunderous volume and passionate intensity, but also with a squirrel-like attention span.  My 5-month-old is super pleasant and smiley and chatty... until it's time to sleep, and then she only wants to complain and be held, NOT be put down.

Why is it that, with any one of these three cherubs, my warm adoration can shrivel into cold irritability?  Is it that my expectations haven't been met?  Is it that my authority has been challenged, or simply ignored?  Is it that I myself am constantly struggling not to be late and am frustrated with my own inability to be more effective with my time?  Is it that I crave uninterrupted time with Tara and have a hard time surrendering my wants to disruptions?

Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

My point in sharing this is not to rant or complain.  I'm not typing in a furious type of catharsis.  I actually don't want to write on this topic because it reveals far more about my heart than I'm honestly comfortable sharing.

The resounding theme: I want.  James wisely pointed out that our desires are at the heart of all our conflicts (Jas 4.1).  I want.  I want to be respected.  I want my kids to say, "Yes, Papa!"  I want them to stop what they're doing and answer when they hear my voice calling their names.  I want them to respect my wishes and instructions -- even when I'm not watching.  I want them to behave a certain way.  I want their reputations to shine (which really means I want to be known as a great parent who has clearly done everything right).  When I sit down to do some reading, to watch a movie with Tara, or try for the 36th time to finish a blog post and the interruptions begin... suddenly the children I love and adore become obstacles to what I really want.

These wants are all just symptoms of one singular, unhealthy craving in my heart for rule and dominion.  It's the sinful core of my problem.  My pride and self-interest tell me that I deserve to be treated in a certain way, and that if I am not receiving recognition or my expectations are not being met, then I have every right to be grouchy.  Tim Keller used to call pride "cosmic plagiarism."  Being proud invariably means I am taking credit for something that rightly belongs only to the Maker, the Ruler, the King and Lord over all.  All of my self-promotion and authority grabbing is just usurpation, insurrection, and failed coup de tat -- ultimately foolish, given the supremacy and of the one who is truly worthy of acclaim and adoration.

Me demanding my kids' respect is a little bit like a mote of dust drifting across the sun and being surprised it didn't generate a solar eclipse.

Me expecting uninterrupted time all to myself is a fatally flawed assumption that I deserve anything at all.

Maybe it's not wrong in itself to want respect or intentionally set aside time for your own purposes.  But when those good things become ultimate things, the ugliness of our hearts is exposed.  As parents, we must beware our tendencies or run the risk of seeing them rudely mirrored in little faces and voices.  I don't think of myself as being a particularly demanding person, but -- just like everyone else -- when what I really want is denied or delayed, all of sudden my heart begins clamoring for fulfillment.  Unchecked, that inevitably comes out in my attitude and language.  If I find myself sensitive to the demanding natures of my kids, chances are it's because I recognize the sound of entitlement all too well.

Seeing these things in myself, I am trying to practice three things with my children.  I am terrible at all of them.

(1) I am trying to create intentional time with them.  Psalm 90.12 reminds us to seek the Lord's eternal perspective, learning to "number our days" by His kind instruction, so that we may gain a "heart of wisdom."  Time in general is fleeting, and time with young children is even more so.  I distinctly remember thinking, when Zeke was approaching his first birthday, that we still had four more long years of him at home until we had to start figuring out the school thing.  Well, it's 2024, and he's halfway through his kindergarten year.

Intentionally choosing time with my kids doesn't guarantee they won't still demand more of it or automatically honor my schedule, but it does check some important boxes for my heart.

• It forces me to remember that "my" time is not really mine anyway.  I am merely a steward of the minutes and hours God has kindly chosen to allot for me.  If I can surrender the audacious concept of "me time," I can be much more free in giving time away.
  
• It softens my heart toward my children.  In fact, the more time I choose to give them (before they even ask for it) makes me less inclined to be irritated with them when they demand more.
  
• It provides me with some of the most important life-on-life, teachable moments.  I can lecture my kids in passing, on my way to do whatever seemingly more important thing I need to do... or I can choose to be fully present with them, modeling behaviors and language that I want them to emulate, and just enjoying the little people that God has given me to love.
  
• It helps me learn about my kids and understand them as unique image-bearers.  Lingering is a learned skill in western culture.  How can I appreciate the God-given personalities each of my children possess if I don't linger long enough to appreciate them?
  
• It causes me to be cognizant of what being "fully present" with them actually means.  If I say I'm going to play with them and then spend half of that time on my phone, they will quickly let me know that they're "waiting for me."  Intentional time is different than halfhearted time.
  

(2) I am trying to be clear and firm in my instructions.  As intelligent as my children are, I can't really be upset with them if I've done a bad job communicating.  I can't assume they should just know intuitively what I expect of them, or go nonverbal when I'm frustrated (which I have a tendency to do).  If I'm hoping they will read my mind or pick up on my body language, I'm setting all of us up for failure.  "Clear and firm" doesn't imply domineering, condescending tones, nor does it excuse threatening language.  I simply want to do better at patiently and directly communicating to my children God's priorities, Mama and Papa's rules, age-appropriate responsibilities, and the privileges we want to enjoy as a family.

Some might argue we're just setting the bar too high and bringing frustration upon ourselves.  To the contrary, we've learned that giving small humans lanes in which to run helps them to learn and flourish.  It would not be loving them well to tell them the world is their oyster and boundaries don't matter.  By contrast, clear and firm instruction -- given humbly and compassionately -- creates a safe environment with no hidden expectations and standards that keep children AND parents accountable to one another.

(3) I am trying to be gracious and humble in both granting and asking forgiveness.  I can't hold grudges against my children and still believe the best of them.  Even where there are patterns of sin and disobedience, I can't just expect them to fail, and then let them know that I knew they were going to fail when they do.  Granting forgiveness even to repeat-offender children truly means giving them a blank slate, partnered with the proactive and instructive wisdom of gently helping them learn where their potential pitfalls will be in the future.  On the flip-side, if I'm not willing to ask forgiveness of my kids (or my wife) when I myself screw up, I have no right to counsel them to do the same with one another, or to demonstrate remorse when I am correcting them.  Can I demand repentance of them when they break the rules if I don't show them how to do it by my own example?  And, frankly, if I can't choose to overlook some wrongdoings on my children's part and give second and third chances to get it right, have I myself really understood the unfathomable grace of Jesus Christ?  Showing and seeking grace are practices that help keep me soft in the face of disobedience and defiance.

To be completely honest, I don't know if these three things are making much difference in me at present.  But they are long-term areas of focus that, Lord willing, will bear mature fruit in me and in my children as we continue to grow and change.

To be clear on my title for this post, I don't have any just cause for being quick to anger.  The Scripture clearly counsels me against that (Jas 1.19), even when it feels natural and proportionate.  My wrath does not bring about God's justice on my behalf, make my children behave any better, or impute to them any righteousness before God.  Pride and frustration do make for effective but dangerous kindling, however.  The faster I root them out and expose them for what they are, the more effective the cleansing waters of the Spirit's sanctification in dousing sin's potential conflagrations.

Besides, time's too short to stay angry with those nuggets.  I know... they ARE pretty darn cute.