Tuesday, November 20, 2018

The Long Way Home

It had been a long day. You had school all day, immediately followed by a six-hour rehearsal for the upcoming production of a Christmas Story. I waited in the pull up lane outside Holland High School, and eventually you came scurrying out, carrying your bags, and your violin.

As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, you launched into a series of stories about "Schneider" and how he is so demanding and how people leave constructively critical "notes" evaluating your evolution as an actress. Mariah talked about being receptive to feedback, and how important it is to connect with the audience.

While you were talking, I began to get distracted by the intelligence in your voice. Although I tried to keep my eyes on the highway, I kept looking in the rearview mirror at the animation in your face as you shared your stories. I got lost in the moment... where has time gone? Who is this young woman? She is beautiful, inside and out. She is kind, and mature, and asking all of the right questions about life.

Then I told you and Mariah about the paradoxical danger of the stage. It is a blessing and a curse. It is life giving and soul crushing. It can become an addiction; the praise of men is hollow. I told you the old legend about a Desert Father who advised a young disciple to go back to the local graveyard and see how the tombstones are receptive to either praise or criticism; the obvious lack of response by the dead is an indication that they are completely unaffected by popularity or insults.

"You need to guard your heart, and create enough health in your heart to not let compliments inflate your ego, or criticisms to deflate your purpose." I told you stories of people lining up to pinch my cheeks and affirm my preaching as performance, but in the same breath they will curse me and turn away. It almost destroyed me.

When I pulled off the highway to our exit, Mariah asked, "Can we take the long way home?" I wasn't sure why, but you added, "We like talking to you, daddy." You weren't quite ready to end the conversation. You loved talking with your father. There was an intimacy in the journey, and a longing to know more.

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There is a story in the Old Testament about the Children of Israel being delivered from Egypt. After a bloody battle across the Red Sea, the Text reads that God did not lead His Children home to the Promised Land through the direct route (through Philistine Country) "because that was shorter..."

Did you catch that?

God intentionally took His Children through the dessert, because that was the long way home. And in the journey, they would learn to trust Him. In the struggle with doubt and despair, they would learn about the faithful provision of their Father.

Sometimes taking the long way home will test your patience. Sometimes you will get car sick and nauseous. Sometimes you'll just want to arrive at the Promised Land. But the Father will remind you that it was that journey in the wilderness when I experienced a deeper level of love with you.

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

A New Beginning

This week the DePoy family launched a new church plant, in downtown Grand Rapids! This vision was born from the furnace of Rock Bottom, and is evidence that God always allows for new beginnings and 70 x 7 chances.

"The Awakening Church" is meeting inside a Homeless Shelter on Division Avenue, because of course. Jesus.

You helped set up all the chairs and tables, and handed out bibles. You sat in the front row with your sisters and Teresa and you took communion and you sang the songs. And at the end of it all, the only thing I cared about: You ran up to give me the best. hug. ever.

I want you to know that my (unhidden) agenda is to make my daughters proud of me. I don't want your last memory of me preaching to have been the disaster that was Exodus Church. I really want you to be proud of me, and if nothing else happens - I'll be happy with your hug.

By the way, my first sermon at The Awakening Church was about people being invited to the party... all of the homeless and poor and broken, welcome at the Table of grace. I concluded with the story of you and I at the Daddy/Daughter dance at Valentine's Day. So you were beaming with pride, as my middle daughter. I couldn't stop crying all day. Tears of joy!