The insight of skinned knees

At the time I started writing this post, my seven-month-old son was crying on the floor.  He is so very, very close to being able to roll over by himself.  If he's on his back, he can -- with some coaxing -- successfully get to his belly.  Going the other way is another matter.  He just can't yet manage that final push.  To be fair, we live in an old house with lots of uneven flooring, so some of his attempts at rolling over are literally uphill.  Which is completely unfair.  As is, I suppose, using your son's disadvantages as the impetus for a blog post.  But he's the son of a pastor/writer, so that's just part of the contract.

Through this new lens of fatherhood, I am gaining unique insights into God's love for me that I naively thought I understood all along.  For instance, in the midst of my undergrad, I wrote the following lyric for one of my band's songs:

Failures are the lasting lessons
I’ve got so much left to learn
I’ll crawl so I can walk, skin my knees and my pride
But never forget to smile
Chewing on the trials

The imagery I was after (nearly 10 years ago now) was exactly the phase of life my son is currently entering: the emerging independence of a human personality that is at once so confident and so determined, and yet so very incapable.  Zeke, like all human beings, must learn by bumping his head, by taking those intrepid first steps and falling down.  We learn by struggling.  The progression from a diet of milk to one of solid food is necessarily gradual.

Watching it literally happen in front of me, I now have a much better context for understanding the care and perseverance of our Heavenly Father.  God labors to teach us the way I labor to teach my son: He could very well step in and fix everything for us, yet He lovingly allows us the opportunity to struggle, to learn, and to worship Him all the more for it.  Sometimes, Zeke needs me to step in and give him a push.  Other times, it's better for me to wait, so he can push himself just a little harder.  He doesn't always appreciate it when I opt for the latter.

But then again, neither do I when God does the same thing to me.

In the midst of each spiritual battle and God-ordained challenge, Christians face a choice: either embrace the opportunity the adversity represents in order to trust God more and grow in our faith, or instead adopt a shortsighted, embittered preoccupation with trying to eliminate as much difficulty in our lives as possible, complaining all the while.  The sad thing is that, when we take the latter course of action, we miss the opportunity for true joy.

In our Wikipedia/YouTube culture -- where answers and solutions should never be more than one click away -- endurance is a concept that needs revisiting.  Even for Christians, it's easy to become discouraged when facing the same sin struggle day after day, or having to forgive someone for the 489th time.  We might be tempted to want the same type of immediate gratification our world craves.  It is an immaturity -- not unlike my son whining with one arm tucked helplessly under his side -- that demands immediate solutions.  On the other hand, it is absolutely NOT immaturity for us to cry out to the Father for help, provided we begin learning to ask the right things from the right heart attitude.

The Apostle Paul penned some pretty famous words in his epistle to the Philippians, words that are often stripped of their rich meaning.  Speaking of his own challenges with regard to sharing the gospel, he wrote, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound.  In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Phil 4.12-13)  And that, Paul says, is connected to the ability to know true joy -- to endure hardship and be closer to God for the struggle.  The ability to "do all things" is not some promise of superpowers.  The power that Paul speaks of is the power that God abundantly supplies in the gospel of Jesus Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit.  It is a power that, ironically, requires us to be dependent upon God.  It is a power that is only accessible via weakness.

The "secret" of facing plenty, hunger, abundance, and need is through HIM.

That's why our skinned knees are so valuable.  They shouldn't just teach us practical lessons about how to do it better next time.  They should teach us to lean into a source of power that is beyond our limited abilities -- one that is best expressed in our weakness.  If we are willing to focus on the One who never fails, who never changes, and who never requires us to do anything He won't lead us through, suddenly our spiritual growth is not an insurmountable mountain or a life of isolation and drudgery.  It is a walk with God.

I love to walk with Zeke -- for the time being, with him in my arms, or in the stroller, or strapped to my chest.  Sometimes with him upside-down over my shoulder.  The type of delight I feel when he smiles or learns something new is a taste of the type of delight our Heavenly Father takes in my daily dependence on Him.  And the reality is that, once Zeke masters this whole rolling over thing, there will be another challenge for him to face.  And another one.  Likewise, our spiritual growth isn't about one day or even one year.  It is a lifelong process.  My hope for Zeke is that, as he matures, he learns not to whine or complain, but to ask for help, and to trust in the wisdom and care his Mama and I can provide.  An even greater thing is true of each Christian's walk with God, because God is not only worthy of our trust, He is worthy of our worship.  The adoration we must give Him is not because He craves it or is incomplete without us: we give it because no other is worthy of receiving it.

We would therefore do well to stop relying on ourselves, cease our complaining spirits, and instead cry out to God daily for help with every challenge we face.   Spiritual maturity is not (contrary to popular opinion) independence and theological intellect, but rather learning to more fully depend on the transforming grace that God abundantly supplies.

Ezekiel Joseph Carlton

I go through so many ups and downs when it comes to keeping a regular writing schedule.  Deadlines were my friend in college -- not because they would motivate me to work harder and sooner, but because I was a good enough student that I couldn't miss one.  I called myself a "pressure writer," because although I would start a paper as soon as it was assigned, and maybe touch on it here and there as the semester went on, I would -- in true procrastinator form -- invest heavily in the final days before the deadline to get the thing written.

"Because," I'd say, "that's when I do my best writing."

Truth or justification, I ended up graduating Magna Cum Laude with my bachelor's degree in 2012, but I've never fully gotten past that whole procrastination thing.

That's why, when my son missed his due date, I simply said that he, like all good Carlton men, was just taking his good old time.

Tara carried to her 41st week, a full seven days beyond our June 8th due date, and was induced on the 14th due to some sudden high blood pressure.  Our son was born on Friday, June 15th at 11:07 in the morning.  Ezekiel Joseph ("Zeke") came into the world crying, with good color, weighing 8 lbs, 1 oz, and stretching to 20.5 inches in length.  After two recovery days in the hospital, we were able to take him home on Father's Day, Mama and baby boy both healthy and feeling great.  Zeke regained (and surpassed) his birth weight by his 10-day checkup, is rapidly becoming a pro at sleeping most of the night, and is what I can only describe as the most chill baby I've ever met.  He prefers to sleep in the powerlifting stance, remains unperturbed by Kaylee's incessant barking at the neighbors, and -- unlike his father -- is incredibly punctual about his eating schedule.  He'll be three weeks old tomorrow, is already showing signs of smiling and laughing, and I'm trying really, really hard not to be THAT first-time social media dad.  Never in my life have I been so quick to pull out my phone to take pictures (#whatishappeningtome?).

I've been asked about the name choice, which we somehow managed to keep a secret from everyone until Zeke was born (though many tried to bully or trick us into revealing ahead of time).  Ezekiel means "God will strengthen."  Our son's biblical namesake is also called the Watchman of Israel, and while many of his Spirit-inspired words contain harsh, ugly truth, his message of judgment is tempered by the tenderness of God's unfathomable love for his people.  We pray that Zeke too will be a truth-teller, a man who won't refuse the messages, instructions, and tasks God sovereignly places on His life.

Joseph means "God will increase."  In the Bible, Joseph is a man who experienced intense betrayal at the hands of his family, but also knew the steadfast love of the Lord, who intended good even in the evil Joseph experienced.  Tara and I desire for our Ezekiel Joseph to know firsthand God's steadfast love and kindness, and to respond to every circumstance of his life with the knowledge that God is faithful, and has his best interests at heart.

In other words, his names are lessons and reminders.

God will strengthen you, Zeke.  Remember that.  Contrary to popular belief, He WILL give you more than you can handle -- so that you can learn to trust His strength above your own.  The Scriptures resound with God's good, invigorating promises to His children.  His Word and power do not fail.

Remember: God will only increase His goodness to you, Zeke.  Again, contrary to popular belief, that won't mean you'll experience the rags-to-riches-American-dream kind of increase, or that you will live your "best life" now.  But it will mean that God will give you more of Himself, lavishing grace upon grace on your life, and will continually prove Himself to be faithful.

Tara and I waited on the Lord for our first child, and in His good timing, He granted our request.  We are so blessed to be parents that we can't stop thanking Him for the gift of little Zeke.  To all those who were praying along with us, THANK YOU as well -- your prayers have been effective, and we've undeniably felt them at work.

Suffice it to say that God has both strengthened us and increased His goodness in our lives.

While procrastinating to write for a blog or to sketch out the next chapter in a novel is one thing, procrastinating to begin teaching my son is something else entirely.  There truly is no time like the present.  Lord willing, I'll start kicking my deadline habit once and for all -- if only to invest in my boy today.  And tomorrow.  And every day thereafter.