I could not believe what my eyes were drawn to on one paper’s “front page.” You can read it for yourself but the title will tell you most ly what you need to know–”Sex Changes for Kids Increasing.” (Read here) The article, of course, talks about the growing willingness of pediatricians to change the sex of some of their patients in response to questions about their gender. They express confusion about what they are and so doctor’s choose to address this with costly injections and gender-altering procedures. My question, who’s more confused–the child or the guy with the doctor’s degree?

The article specifically states that one child who is being considered for the procedure is an 18 month old girl who one day made the statement “I a boy.” (that’s not a typo, that’s the way she said it). Let me get this straight. You’ve got a human being who isn’t old enough to put together a grammatically correct sentence but you think she’s old enough to understand her sexuality!?

Another client who has already gone through the altering is a 4 year old patient. I have to be honest. At 4 years old I didn’t know if I wanted to be a fireman or a baseball player when I grew up. I had a hard time choosing between Fruit Loops and Sugar Corn Pops. Heck, I didn’t even realize there were that many differences between boys and girls yet. How in the world could any 4 year old know if they are “comfortable” being who God created them to be? I get that people grow up who have questions and issues regarding their personality and their sexuality. But sex changes are not the answer (in my opinion, they never are but especially with minors who aren’t even old enough to vote).

This is a symptom of a bigger problem though. In our culture it has become standard fair to to take the easy way out by rejecting who God created us to be and trying to be something else. Whether its our size or shape or personality or our talents, we are spending millions of dollars and years of our lives working to be something we aren’t and were never intended to be. I’d love to have the athletic skills of a Lebron James or a Peyton Manning. Maybe having the business sense of a Donald Trump or a Steve Jobs would be nice. But I am none of those guys. I am me. I am 44, fairly intelligent, well-educated and 5′ 11″ tall. I battle with my weight, my anger, my blood pressure and this overwhelming addiction to chocolate. I love my kids and my wife and believe that my family (with all of its quirks) is the most amazing group of people I could have ever known. I am a very blessed man. And I would have never known that feeling if my parents had chosen to change me to a woman at age 5 because I played with my sisters Barbie dolls. You want to know my opinion? (I’m assuming you do since you’ve read this far). Parents who allow their kids to undergo such a life-altering, permanent treatment before age 18 should be arrested for child abuse along with their pediatricians. Maybe then they can share a cell together and play gender-altering games while they serve out their sentences.

   You know me inside and out, 
      you know every bone in my body; 
   You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, 
      how I was sculpted from nothing into something. 
   Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; 
      all the stages of my life were spread out before you, 
   The days of my life all prepared 
      before I’d even lived one day. Psalm 139:14-16 The Message

So, with Valentine’s Day approaching, it really did not surprise me much when Lisa suggested that we do dinner at home with the girls in lieu of a night out together (Harrison was working on Tuesday). I agreed to her idea and we decided to do it up nicely for Landon and Abby. Lisa got steak and nice dishes out. I stopped by the store and picked up some flowers for all 3 of my girls who were home (no, I didn’t forget you Morgan). We lit candles and put out the nicer plates and decorated each of their settings with a card and some candy.

The time for dinner came and I went upstairs. I asked each of them for the pleasure of their “company” at Cafe le Lisa downstairs. Arm-in-arm, the three of us made our way downstairs to the table. I helped all 3 of them with their chairs and we enjoyed an amazing dinner together. We even Skyped Morgan in to join us at the table. As I sat there enjoying my red meat and my time with my girls, I was kind of struck by several emotions.

First, there was the shock of looking at my little girls and how much they are growing. They are young ladies–all 3 of them beautiful as they can be. I am proud to see what they are becoming. I’m even a little excited. But I have to admit that there is a daddy who is not too thrilled to lose his little girls.

Second, there was anger. Just briefly, I allowed a thought to come to my mind that made me very angry. There are people out there who would mistreat and take advantage of my girls. Looking at their innocence in that candlelight I thought of deceitful teenage boys, college fraternities and other such ungodly creatures (laugh if you want but they are out there). The defender in me thought about how I can protect these girls from being hurt or wronged in such a way. The answer? I can’t. No daddy can. There comes a point where all three of my girls must grow and go and take wing. Knowing that day is coming (and it will be here sooner than I care to know) I am reminded about how important it is that I pray for all four of my kids and entrust their lives to the only Father who can really care for them.

Lastly, I was warmed by the feeling of being a very blessed man. My kids are not perfect. Let me say that again just in case one of them is reading this–my kids are not perfect. They make mistakes and choose poorly sometimes. There have been times when I was saddened or ashamed by their behavior. But there has never been a time when they did not bring me great joy and pleasure. I watch as they daily become the answer to my prayers for them–Christ followers who grow more like the Savior with each year that passes.

I actually came away from the table on Tuesday reflecting on the years I have been given with each of my children. All four have known their own special kind of heartache–divorce, death, loss of so many kinds. I am thankful my kids are who they are and, even more so, I am thankful for what they may someday be. I attribute both to the thousands of prayers prayed on their behalf and to the loving God who is loving enough to listen to each one.

Lisa laid down and asked, “Are you really watching this basketball game?” How does a husband answer that question? I wasn’t really that interested but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to watch another cooking show last night. Lisa’s choice…the Grammys. Now, let me rank my viewing preferences for you. Watching overpaid athletes do their thing ranks just slightly ahead of watching overpaid entertainers applaud each other for doing theirs. Now, that’s just my opinion. Obviously it is not the view of the others in our family. Before I knew it, Landon was on one side of the bed, Abby was between us and they had Skyped Morgan in from Samford University. They were watching, talking, evaluating dress styles, weight gain, fake tans and the weirdness of the artists. Fortunately for us, we turned it on just in time to watch every…single…minute.

So, I got to watch the tribute to Whitney Houston. I have to admit that I was deeply saddened by Whitney’s death. That poor girl could sing…but it didn’t save her. She had more money than I’ll see in a life time…but it didn’t keep her alive. She was extremely pretty…but the inside had become an ugly mess. I truly hurt when I heard the news that the celebrity lifestyle had taken another victim.

Here is the irony and the real reason I’m thinking about the Grammys. At the very beginning, LL Cool J (that’s an artist, not a typo, in case you are wondering) began the show with prayer. Real prayer. He started by saying, “The only thing that feels right for me…for me… is to start with prayer. Heavenly Father…”

My question this morning: why does a celebrity have permission to stand on a stage in front of millions and pray because “it feels right for him” but it has become such a big deal in our country for kids to pray in school when it “feels right” for them? I’m very much in support of his prayer. I thought it was a classy way to begin the show. And I dare say that no one in the room brought a complaint from the ACLU after last night. The atheists, Buddhists, Hindus and Muslims (and whatever other religions were represented) were not forced to comply. In fact, as they panned the camera across the room, some chose to neither bow their heads nor close their eyes. That’s okay with me. The simple fact is that LL Cool J prayed, the Grammys went on and no one is harmed. Why can’t we allow the same privilege to any who feel like it when our kids come together in schools, competitors meet on a ball field or congressmen meet in Washington? The fact is that the celebrities who filled that room last night set an example on how faith can be carried out with respect for all. For once, they may have set a really good example.

Between the two of us, we put away a pound-and-a-half of yogurt dressed with everything from sour gummy worms to chocolate rocks, from M&Ms to chocolate chip cookie dough (I’ll let you figure out who had what). He asks me about my kids and if I think Jesus will use Green Lantern (the comic book hero) to destroy evil. I talk to him about his sisters and his love of Civil War history.

I’ll be honest with you. I spend time with him because he makes me feel like a better person. He encourages me, makes me laugh and even makes me feel like some kind of super hero sometimes. I pray that my time with him makes him feel the same. I hope he understands how much I love him and look up to him and his view of life. He is the only person who ever got me to put on a black robe to preach anything other than a wedding.

I pray that all of us have friends that can do that for us–regardless of their age or their position or their status in life. You see, my friend has autism and, to me, he may be one of the most amazing people I know. By the way, my friend is pulling really hard for the Patriots this weekend in the Super Bowl. Tom Brady is a supporter of the Best Buddies program. For every touchdown he throws, Best Buddies receives a donation. I guess for one weekend, I will be a Patriots fan. My “best buddy” is worth it.

Basically the administration of the school became alarmed when a Christian organization asked one of its members to leave the group. The reason? The individual had admitted they were homosexual. The administration responded by saying that, because of its anti-discrimination policy, no group regardless of its reason for existing could exempt another student from participating. Interesting.

I’m not sure about all of the details. I will confess that up front. And what I’m writing about here is not to address the “rightness” or “wrongness” of a Christian group excluding someone because of an alternative lifestyle. Rather, it is to address the irony and hypocrisy of this policy. You see, they dress it up as anti-discrimination. They mount their crusade in the name of fairness and justice. But do they really mean it?

Let’s say that I choose to go out for the football team. Are they going to tell Coach Franklin that I have to be allowed on the team even though I passed my football prime many years ago? Isn’t it “discriminatory” for them to keep me from expressing my love of football by not allowing me to dress up in the Black and Gold and run onto the field with the Commodores? Heck, with my family and friends coming, I might even help them sell out a couple of games next year (sarcasm intended).

Here’s another one. I always thought it would be cool to be a university chancellor. Does it mean that just because I desire to join their club, they have  a responsibility to let me in despite the reasons that might normally exempt from such inclusion?

I’m all for inclusion. I believe in churches that are wide open so that all may hear the good news of Jesus Christ, regardless of color, race, sex, age, income level or lifestyle. Attendance is one thing; membership is another. I believe college campuses should be models of diversity for those who want to learn and be challenged to grow, check their perspectives and broaden their thinking. But I also believe that every group is not for every body and, as Americans, there are times when we have a right to be selective in who we allow because their ideas and ideals may be contrary to the group’s as a whole. Boys should not be Girl Scouts. PETA members probably aren’t going to agree very well with National Rifle Association objectives. Some times people don’t fit and that’s okay. Rather than seeing it as a roadblock, why don’t we see it as a celebration of our diverse heritage and ways of thinking? Muslim, Jewish, Mormon or Christian–the right to associate with those of like-mind is not an area where the Vanderbilt administration or the U. S. government have a right to stick their noses.

By the way, we’re talking about a University that every…single…year turns away hundred of applicants because their grades aren’t good enough. Can anyone say “discrimination?”

I feel like Lisa and I have found one of the purposes for our marriage in the things we are doing together at Ridley Barron Ministries. Yes, there are many other purposes to what we do–investing in our children, serving our church, and bringing glory to God just to name a few. But I believe that Lisa and I were called to do exactly what we are doing right now for this season in our lives. We are living, as I like to say, in our “sweet spot.”

But its not easy. Think about the issues we have chosen to address through our ministry–patient safety in our hospitals, mending of broken marriages, blending of families, poverty and the plight of orphans just to name a few. Take any one of these issues alone and you could easily get overwhelmed. The numbers aren’t in our favor. The odds are huge. The task seems insurmountable. But only if you work for yourself. You see, Lisa and I and the whole RBM team and its board have Someone else to whom we answer. While there are moments where the tasks seem to be too much, they are outweighed heavily by the One who stands in our corner. Maybe it is more accurate to say “the One in whose corner we stand.” I was reminded that this morning by this passage from Psalm 108

With God’s help we will do mighty things, for He will trample down our foes. Psalm 108:13

I believe God loves for us (not just Lisa and me but all of us) to offer Him our weakness so that He can show just how powerful He is and how deep His love goes. David prayed this prayer in Psalms. When he wrote it, he didn’t just pray that God would rescue him in a difficult time. He prayed in faith that God would provide a great victory. That’s a huge difference. Like the difference between praying “God help my team to make it through the game” versus “God, make our victory over our enemy extremely large for your glory.”

I think I’ve decided to make this a part of my regular prayers. I don’t want to go to my grave being known as a nice guy who made it through life without falling apart. I want to win big. I want to bring down the divorce rate. I want to knock a hole in the number of errors we see in our hospitals. I want to see every kid adopted and poverty erased. I want people that we come in contact with to come away with a greater sense of purpose and joy. In the process, I’m praying that God can do bigger things than this through our little ministry. Heck, when we’re done we might even take on the impossible. Maybe corruption in our government? Don’t laugh. God’s done bigger things than this. I just want to be a part of it when the time comes.

Looking back to the months just after our accident, I am convinced that the largest part of my healing (and that of my kids) came from the faith background that had already been established in me. I was raised in a Godly home with the influence of amazing parents and loving sisters. We attended church regularly and we were encouraged in the ways of Christ through all of my younger years. So, when Sarah and Josh died, my mind immediately went back to passages of Scripture and stories from the Bible. I remembered the lives of people like Moses, Joseph and Job. I remembered the verses where Jeremiah, David, and Solomon were challenged in their faith and laid out their complaints before God.

Every one of us have difficult times in our lives. As I used to tell my congregation, in this life you have either come through a difficult time, are in the middle of a difficult time or are preparing to enter one. That’s just the nature of this life that we live in. You may never face anything as extreme as what my family endured but you will face your own challenges.

My encouragement to you is this: remember the wonders he performed. The problem is that you cannot remember what you never learned in the first place. If you never read the Book, if you never encourage your children to go to church or teach them from the Bible, how will you remember when the times of difficulty come. Do it now. Commit to reading Gods Word and finding out about His promises before the trials of life come. When they do, you’ll be ready to remember. To remember that when the doctor’s test comes back with unexpected news, He is a powerful God. When you feel all alone in facing the challenges before you, remember He is a God who has promised never to leave. He is a God who heals when He chooses, delivers when no one else can, carries when you are weak and holds wisdom beyond our understanding. And the promise of Scripture is an amazing one. It leaps from the verses on every single page of Scripture. The promise is this: every ounce of His love is focused on you and what’s best for you. In the worst of times, that promise can bring you joy and the strength to take your next steps.

We are in between events for the day so Lisa and I came back to the room to take care of a couple of emails and check in with people back in Tennessee. The funny thing is this…with every email and phone call I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into a sense of worship. There are good reasons for it. It’s an email from my daughter, a message from my good friend in Georgia, a text from our PR director/friend (Kimberly) and a quick look at our calendar. It’s my amazing neighbor sending me pictures of a sunset from our back yard. It’s snuggling on the love seat with my wife. It’s recalling the conversations with the wonderful people from this morning.

Bottom line…I’ve got lots of reasons to worship.

So do you.

You simply have to find the reasons that are all around you. The problem is that you and I spend too much time whining, too much time complaining about our poor situations or our bad circumstances. Change your point of view and see if you don’t find yourself slipping into worship as well. Here some ideas to help…

Make a list of friends starting with elementary school and say a prayer for them.

Step out in your backyard and leave your cell phone inside. Listen to the sounds and watch the sights around you. Remember that none of it belongs to you and ALL of it was given to you.

Call a brother, sister, parent or friend you haven’t talked to in a while and let them know you are thinking of them. Remember that you didn’t choose your family. God gave it to you.

Find someone you don’t know that does a mundane job to serve you and sincerely thank them for the excellence with which they do it. You’ll be glad you did; they’ll be glad you noticed.

In fact, it’s gotten quite comical now with our travels. Lisa and I will be moving through a busy airport filled with restaurants, perfumes, coffee shops and, yes, body odor and I’ll suddenly stop, put my nose in the air like a bloodhound and say, “I smell cookies.” It happens in airports, malls and hotel lobbies (thank you Hampton Inn and Frontier Airlines for your fresh, hot cookies.) There is just something about that aroma that makes me feel really good.

Never underestimate the power of aromas. Cakes and pies. Colognes and perfumes. Even the sweat of a locker room and the smell of freshly cut grass brings me fond memories of high school sports.

So, I thought about that this morning as I was working through a study I am doing on the Temple of the Old Testament and the various elements that went along with it: the Holy of Holies, the Ark of the Covenant and other related items. Its been very fascinating–probably far more so than the way I just described it. I’m learning how much of what we skim over in the OT has such powerful meaning and intentionality. I understand now why God requested acacia wood (something I had never heard of before reading the Bible), purple linen, bronze and gold plating. There is a purpose to everything that God does. That should give us tremendous comfort as we go through our lives.

Then I got to this passage from this morning’s study. We were taking a look at the sacrificial altar–the one used by the people on a daily basis to offer their sacrifices before God. In Exodus 29, God tells the people He will meet with them at this altar daily as the sacrificial fires are burning continuously. I started asking myself, “Why continuously? Why not give them a rest at night? Why not take the Sabbath off or take a break to clean away some of the ashes?” I came back to this concept of aromas.

You see, the sacrifices of the OT were never meant to be the ultimate answer. In a sense, they simply bought time until the day the ultimate sacrifice–Jesus himself–would be offered on our behalf. Those sacrifices were covering our sins until the day that Jesus would offer forgiveness for them. So, as they were offered day after day at the entrance to the Temple, their aroma would waft around the courtyard where the people would assemble. And, as the smell of flesh and fire filled the air around them, God himself would meet with His people. When they came into that courtyard at His invitation, that smell would envelope them with a keen awareness of their sin AND of God’s great love and forgiveness.The aroma was a reminder of how good God was. And it never went out.

Perhaps one of the most comforting verses of Scripture to the average Hebrew in that day and time would have been Exodus 29:42-43:

For the generations to come this burnt offering is to be made regularly and will consecrate Aaron and his sons to serve me….There I will meet you and speak to you; there also I will meet with the Israelites…

God was saying to His people, “I want to meet with you. I desire to have you for myself.” What an amazing thing to hear from a Holy and perfect God. But He says the same thing to you and I today. Only, instead of meeting Him at the base of the alter, we meet Him at the foot of the Cross. Instead of the aroma of animals, we are reminded of the aroma of Christ who became the ultimate sacrifice for us so that God could have us for His own.

As I turned the corner to head into the last half of the run, one of the older songs on my iPod–one I haven’t actually heard in a long time–began to play. It struck exactly where I was in that moment and I committed to share it with you.

You see, I know someone who is an overall good person. But he’s also a liar and a cheater. He has anger problems, can be hypocritical and tends to be selfish. He has fought bad desires, bad words and bad intentions. I’ve spent a lot of time praying for this guy and I know him intimately.

He is…me.

In my quiet time, in my prayer time and in my Bible study, I keep getting drawn back to this image of a perfect, holy God standing in contrast to…well, you read the description above. As I huffed and puffed my way through that last half-mile, there were three things that came to mind: I am so thankful that God came to do what He didn’t have to do for people like you and me who could never deserve it. Second, why does anyone ever say that aren’t good enough? Of course you aren’t. That’s like saying saying the government doesn’t know how to manage our money. It’s a given. It’s understood. And it’s exactly why God did what He did through Jesus. You can’t earn it and neither can I. Third, how can one man’s knees and ankles hurt so stinking bad in just 30 minutes (the last one was, I admit, not nearly as deep as the first two).

On those days when I feel less than perfect–and they are many–I have to trust that God is the only person who can take me as I am–that’s the way He chooses it–and make me into what He desires for me to be. I’ve had some hard conversations with several people in recent days. Some of those reminded me how much hurt there is in people’s lives; others reminded me how much hurt I still have in my own. The good news is that I’m not counting on you to fix me (everyone breathe a collective sigh of relief). It’s a formidable task, dare I say an impossible one, for anyone but a holy God who loves me enough to meet me where I am and take me the rest of the way. The one phrase that kept ringing in my ears as I ran was this, “We’ve got to touch your robe so swing your robe down low.” (Caedmon’s Call, “Love Alone”)

My prayer for you as you walk the journey you are on: through every reminder you have that your life is a mess without God, may you hear the gentle swish of His robe as He stoops to meet you where you are.