My wife has less hair from pulling and less breath from deep sighing. I have realized my knowledge of the super nerd aka George Lucas’ creation makes me a total dork. And, my son’s world has been turned upside down – in a good way.

I thought it might be a good idea to introduce him to my childhood delight, cracking open a world where spacecraft race from Coruscant where the Jedis meet into the outer rim. My son loves the Jedis – those mysterious warrior-monk figures defending the fragile Republic that is slowly overtaken by evil Sith Lords. I thought Star Wars would detour his constant discussion about Superman, Spiderman and Batman. I’m not so sure that this was a good idea. I long to hear him flying through the house, sporting a cape, envisioning a combat with Lex Luthor. What I get instead is a swift thwack on my groggy head from a home made light saber.

Here’s a peek at our conversation:

“Dada get up let’s play Star Wars.”

Sleepily I reply, “Son give me a minute I’m not yet awake.”

“Dada you can be the Emperor and I’ll be Luke Skywalker. Let’s play when the Emperor shoots lightning from his hands. You know, ‘Take your weapon strike me down.’ Like that Dada.”

As I emerge from bed and commence another round of Jedis versus Sith Lords, I see that this universe is far too real for my son. It’s evidently not just a science fiction film. It’s a lifestyle.

Recently I began to understand I needed to clarify what exactly Star Wars is. My son plays it both at home and at preschool. Maybe he thought the Jedis were like Bible heroes and the Sith Lords were like the Philistines or Canaanites? Uh-oh! I failed to grasp the fine line in a four year old mind between the real world and make believe universes. I gently approached the topic hoping to tread upon this passion lightly. I didn’t want to destroy his enthusiasm, but I needed him to know that this is entirely different than our nightly Bible story reading.

“Son, do you think Star Wars is real?” I inquired not sure where this would go.

“Yeah.”

Crap! I knew it. “Son it’s just make believe. You know pretending. George Lucas wrote this story, but it’s not all true. He’s just telling a story.”

He sat silently for a moment processing the implications of this conversation.

“Yeah.”

As we talked about it further, I saw the loss setting in. Was this the right thing to do? His passion for fantasy made me understand that childhood is largely about fixation upon the spectacular. The four year old mind sees all of God’s creation as fantastical. Star Wars can be real. Superman can be real. It’s all real to him. God is big enough to create all that his beautiful four year old imagination can envision. So I had to ask myself some tough questions. Isn’t God really that big to me, too? Or have I missed something that he understands about God, fantasy and life?

Loss of innocence happens far too early in life. Amidst the ever diminishing childhood that has been commercialized and sexually charged, I wonder if there is another loss that is often overlooked. Granted the commercial and sexual barrage of images on TV and the Internet are major dangers for our children and for childhood. I would never place these two on an equal footing; however, do we squelch fantasy too soon in the name of truth and reality? Has the rigid Christian worldview taken from children the delight of a healthy childhood fantasy?

“Dada do you want to play Star Wars?” my son asked the next day.

Whether it was real or not, his passion did not depart. I was relieved this time hearing this inquiry from his sweet voice. “Sure son I will be the Emperor.”

Once again, I learned a valuable lesson through the eyes of my four year old son. I want to be a little slower to bring “reality” into his fantasies. He has a whole life to experience dreams dashed and to watch fantasies fade. For now he can have his healthy ones over these ever diminishing years of his childhood.
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Michael D. Bobo is the Christian Literature Examiner. You can often read him on Burnside Writers Collective. Follow him on Twitter or Like him on Facebook. Read The Bobo Blog for more of his vignettes on fatherhood, faith and life.

34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Like the good sheep they are, the righteous honestly admit they never saw Jesus in any of these dire circumstances.

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Then Jesus lowers the boom and commands the cursed to depart from him.

The goats on the left are sincerely baffled and balk at their sentence. 44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

The fact that they call Jesus “Lord” implies they know him or, at least, think they do. Some of the goats may be church-goers who teach Sunday school and sing in the choir. They may be prominent “Christians” who are asked to pray at luncheons and sought after by community leaders.

Jesus repeats his message, this time in the negative. 45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’”

This parable doesn’t seem to be a head-scratcher, although it is a little unusual. Unlike most parables, Jesus interjects himself directly into the story. And rather than an allegory with a hidden meaning, this one sounds a lot like an actual future event coupled with a strong, specific warning.

Since I don’t spend as much time as I should with the groups Jesus identifies as important to him, I admit that Matthew 25 is a little disconcerting to me. At the same time, I don’t think Jesus wants us to systematically go down a checklist of hospitals and prisons to visit in an effort to secure eternal salvation. Jesus is conveying a frame of mind and a condition of the heart that his true followers will have by nature of their state of grace.

Having a heart for “the least of these” can be manifested in different ways. It might be sharing the scriptures with someone who is spiritually starving or introducing a thirsty soul to Christ. It may be simply taking the time to reach out to society’s outcast or working to free the person who is imprisoned by his own vices and addictions.

Of course, caring for “least of these” has to be taken literally too. This would involve physically meeting people where they are – on the streets, in the homeless shelters, hospitals, and prisons. Several years ago, I participated in a prison ministry and I’ve never encountered a group of men in more desperate need of the forgiveness and hope found in the Word of God.

Finally, we can also participate in helping the “least of these” on a societal level. Having a heart for “the least of these” will include how we choose to allocate our resources as a country. I want a strong, efficient government, but I also want one that is caring and compassionate. After all, how a nation treats its most vulnerable members is a measure of its true greatness.

Can we visit family member in the hospital and not care if another sick person can even afford to see a doctor? Can we give a homeless person a dollar and not support public assistance to keep a shelter open? Can we preach to prisoners and not support programs that keep young, impoverished men off the streets and out of trouble? These are just a sampling of the difficult challenges we face as a community. Personally, I don’t want to vote like a goat.

Jesus will gather the nations before him, but he will judge each of us individually on how we treated Him and his brothers and sisters. Likewise, each person must interpret this parable for themselves and decide how they should act on it. There are many different possible ways to respond but, as Christians, it’s a question we all need to answer – because there will be a test at the end.
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Jeff Fulmer is the author of the book, “Hometown Prophet.”

Gooney Gooney Grandpa was what we called my Great Grandfather. He used to make that noise when he bounced us on his knee. “GooneyGooneyGooney.” He’s been gone a long time now and I have only fleeting memories of him. But when I hang the laundry I remember. I remember him passing hand over hand along the line. I recall my four-year-old self handing him the clothes pins with pride. I remember the best bit — stealing a pomegranate from the neighbor’s tree when the task was done.

Most of the rituals of my day go by unseen. Mundane. Hurried. Automated. But there are things that help me stop and notice. Making chai in the red enameled pot. Watering the garden with the stubborn hose. And now this, the slow repeated pattern of hanging clothes on the line. Bend. Pluck. Drape. Pinch. Repeat.

The ritual of hanging laundry is a rite of noticing. I notice that the strappy sundress and denim shorts I hang on the line are much more grown up than my younger daughter’s clothes used to be. Pinned next to each other, my older daughter’s tank top hang as long as mine, a testament to her graceful teenage figure. Drape. Pin. Repeat. I am grateful, so grateful that they have grown this old, have lived this long. (Our first child did not.)

Bend. Pluck.I move on to the cloth napkins, handmade, with our initials embroidered on the corner. I feel virtuous. So green of me, isn’t it? Cloth napkins. Line drying. A laugh wells up inside me. I know I am only virtuous in ways that serve me best. It is only in the places where beauty meets story that I can rally myself to do the right thing. Beautiful napkins held on a storied line, and volia! I am a green crusader.

Pluck. Drape. The delicates wait now in the basket, my stockings flap in the breeze. The different sides of myself come into view. Mother, all napkins and tea towels, and children’s clothes. Lover, fishnets and lacy trimmed panties.

Drape. Pinch. The line is full now and the basket bare. So I return upstairs to my third self. Healer, where I write these words to you.

May beauty, story, and repetition enter your world today. And may it bring comfort to your frazzled soul.
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Rachelle Mee-Chapman is a spiritual director specializing in “care for creative souls”. She works with visual artists, writers, musicians, chefs, and other folks who are unlocking their creative core. Join her Flock or follow her at www.magpie-girl.com.

The next fixation after pancakes felt like a sweet relief. I’m pleased to report we have graduated to super heroes. My son really, really loves them. I suppose this is a healthier option on some levels than syrupy pancakes, but I’ve learned very quickly this fascination proposes a tall order. Will I be one of the heroes in the roster of greats like Batman, Superman and Luke Skywalker?

My wife and I prompted this transition when we decided to take down some of my G. I. Joes and Star Wars figures. The theory was we could offer them up as incentives for good behavior. He’s clearly motivated by rewards and I would rather draw him toward proper living than coerce him by force. He has a will of iron (Iron Man is one of his favorites!). My wife and I learned the hard way that baiting works far better for us all.

Enter the real hero – the chore chart. Simple but powerful. Complete a week of chores, get a super hero. It beats the dollar or so allowance. He would accumulate action figures anyway, so this seems to solve a number of issues with a brilliant maneuver. Needless to say, he’s got a lot of super heroes.

This fascination with superheroes has extended to his fashion as well. I am often found donning a blanket cape, a hat of some kind, and a sword. It is ridiculous and humbling to write, but in my attempts to meet my son where he’s at, I concede. Each morning, each evening, it’s one game – super heroes.

The conversation usually begins: “Dada let’s play Star Wars. I’ll be Luke Skywalker. You can be the Emperor.”

I’m hooded in with a child sized piece of clothing. He’s flailing a homemade light saber. I’m pretending to shoot lightning from my hands. He inevitably prevails. Every time. The act rarely gets old for him. So, just like the routine of mixing ingredients and pouring batter. I am learning to repeat and repeat and repeat these super hero reenactments.

The most powerful lesson that I’m learning in this latest stage of his development is my son needs to know there are defenders, super heroes, who will make things right. Powerful forces exist who will right the wrongs. Someone to kill the crabs and spiders – his typical foes. To conquer the evil emperors. And, to make sure that the house is safe for us all.

Ultimately, what I’m learning is that I need to be a similar figure: a defender, a protector, a deliverer.

Wow! What a tough life lesson. I see my weaknesses and failures continually, but through one preschooler’s eyes, I’m a fellow hero in the fight against all the bad guys. I hope this does not fade in my son’s life, but I am not so naïve. He will see me with new lenses each year. I will have to fight to protect my image as he grows and realizes that I’m a man just like he will be one day.

So another fixation reveals another layer of the game of life. It’s a tall order, but I pray and I play and I learn.
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Michael D. Bobo is the Christian Literature Examiner. You can often read him on Burnside Writers Collective. Follow him on Twitter or Like him on Facebook. Read The Bobo Blog for more of his vignettes on fatherhood, faith and life.

Then I remembered; I’m the dad. Right.

“Dad,” he said, not looking up at me, “I’m not sure I believe this whole thing about God making everything in the universe.”

“Okay,” I said, “what are you not sure about?”

“Well, it just doesn’t make sense to me that this guy was sitting up there somewhere and just decided to make a universe all of a sudden.”

“I get that,” I said. “I would have a hard time with that idea too.”

“What do you mean, dad?”

“Some people picture God as this sort of giant person sitting on a throne in the sky, but that image just doesn’t work for me.”

“Me either,” he said. “I mean, there’s not even any oxygen up there. Why would a person live up there with no air?’

“For me,” I said, “God is less person-like and more like a source. Like a place where all the energy and matter and love we ever need comes from.”

“A source?” He looked confused.

“Have you talked at all about the Big Bang in school?’ I asked.

“Sort of,” he said.

“Well,” I said, “a lot of people believe that a really long time ago, everything in the universe was squished down into this one tiny, super-hot, super sense spot. Then, for a reason no one really understands, everything just burst out, kind of like a flower popping up out of a tiny seed, and that’s when everything got started.”

“Huh,” he studied the floor. “So where did all the stuff come from? And what made it all pop out and become the universe?”

“You answer that,” I said, “and you’ll be set for life. But for me, that’s where I see God.”

We agreed to hit the library for some books on the Big Bang. I’m less concerned about giving him water-tight answers than I am going along with him as we follow this mystery down the rabbit hole together. For me, that’s the stuff that life is made of.

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Christian Piatt is an author, editor, speaker, musician and spoken word artist. He co-founded Milagro Christian Church in Pueblo, Colorado with his wife, Rev. Amy Piatt, in 2004. Christian is the creator and editor of the Banned Questions book series, which include Banned Questions About the Bible and Banned Questions About Jesus. He co-created and co-edits the “WTF: Where’s the Faith?” young adult series with Chalice Press, and he has a memoir on faith, family and parenting being published in early 2012 called Pregmancy: A Dad, a Little Dude and a Due Date. For more information about Christian, visit www.christianpiatt.com, or find him on Twitter or Facebook.

Our recent topic of devotion has been pancakes. For the past month or so, I have been in the school of culinary arts in one area exclusively. Needless to say, my son loves the process of making pancakes. I use the phrase “the process” because he does not always eat all of what he makes. This is key to the devotional aspect. He is an event oriented person. The consequences are not really what matter for him. To what extent truly is irrelevant. My “mature” mind tries to educate him in the value of savoring the product of his labors, but he will not have it. And, so I learn, and he teaches me, that processes are in fact important, too.
The routine has been established by now. He helps pour the ingredients and mix them, while I coach him. It must be comical to observe me deliver the usual fifty or more, “Be careful with . . .” as he gingerly dumps the flour, baking powder, sugar and other items into a mixing bowl. His sense of satisfaction at getting most of the ingredients into the bowl is endearing – even though it means more cleanup after the fact. I have learned the hard way to keep him away from the hot flame in our gas stove. All you mothers reading are flinching right now at the thought of this. Yes he has been burned, not too severely, and I did succumb to my wife’s wisdom and cautionary nature. I am not too sure if his motives are entirely pure. Sometimes I think the real joy is his opportunity to sneak in some cartoons while Dada cooks the batter. Regardless, the process has had its impact upon my soul.

Why share these mundane details with you? This is all part of the discipline. Just as much as he enjoys the process of making pancakes and the time spent slowly eating some of the fruit of his labor, we too have the opportunity to savor our relationships with God and with each other. The process does matter.
Initially, I was task oriented in my approach to my son’s requests. My list consisted of the following steps. All of which were done in the most legalistic fashion.

1st – get up despite my aching body’s resistance.
2nd – organize the ingredients.
3rd – hurry through mixing process.
4th – try to be patient with my son’s inevitable slip ups.
5th – use TV as a baby sitter while I hurriedly pour, flip and cook the pancakes.
6th – coax my fixated son to sit down and try to eat.
7th – wait for him to eat at a turtle’s pace.
8th – rush to clean up after watching the clock with each bite.
9th – hurriedly get dressed for work.
10th- kisses, hugs, rush to work, be late, feel defeated.

Forgive me if I am belaboring the point, but I firmly feel this speaks to our perspectives in our relationships. How often do we perform a duty to get to a final destination that we wanted all along, meanwhile we miss the steps involved and the opportunities to savor each moment? How often does our economic spirituality rob us from true devotion?

What I see in this lesson from a three year old’s craving is so instructive. My perspective is slowly shifting and I am learning how to savor the steps. In doing so, I find myself enjoying each one and learning along the way. A child truly can instruct. I suppose Jesus was right after all. Imagine that!

Why and how could this really be spiritual? Why? – Because it reveals the muck of my heart at a time I would rather be doing something else, namely sleeping. How? – It stems from a loving sacrifice for my son. It requires a measure of both love and sacrifice to really effect the stuff of our souls. That’s the bad news I suppose for some, but the results are evident.

So, here’s how I envision pancake devotions as a spiritual discipline. Getting out of bed is still challenging at times, but I try to see each day as an opportunity and an adventure.

1st – perspective going into the process is vital to finding worth and meaning.

2nd – consistency is key. My son’s appetite for making pancakes has not changed for the past month or more. Every day there is a desire to do it. His persistence, which used to baffle me, is really a discipline. I am a person who loves variety; it is challenging to repeat a task already completed. Why conquer what is already defeated? Because there is a spiritual discipline in continually going through steps together. The consistency, like my son’s appetite, creates time for the steps to work for you.

3rd – savor each step. There will be messes and ingredients will get on the counter top. Time will come to clean up, but don’t miss the making for the cleaning. Being there is what makes this process truly delightful.

4th – enjoy your partner in the task. Whether it is God in your quiet time, your spouse in a book shared together, or whomever else you encounter. This moment by moment realization of the other is crucial to gaining a healthier attitude. What else are you there for but to share in the process?

5th – repeat often.

Obviously pancakes are what work for me, but I suggest you apply these principles in your family and in your relationships. They are soul transforming. As simple as this may sound, it is a discipline. How often do we miss the process for the end results? How often do we read through, rush through, gloss through . . . just to do it? I have spent years of my adult life racing and moving and have not gained the same degree of spiritual insight as I have in these mornings with my son.

I have to laugh at the irony that God has placed in my life. I see each morning with a renewed outlook. My son is my spiritual coach and he doesn’t even know it. He has not produced a fancy DVD series or amassed great fortune. He just loves to storm in my room, yell at me, pull me out of bed and start our daily routine. Our time together is all the compensation he needs. The least I could do is savor the process.

So, next time you go to devote to God, remember the pancakes: perspective, consistency, savor, enjoy, repeat.
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Michael D. Bobo is a regular contributor to Burnside Writers Collective. He writes as the Christian Literature Examiner for the National edition of Examiner.com. Read his The Bobo Blog for more of his vignettes on fatherhood, faith and life.

Gross.

Then you get home and it’s back to real life.

I don’t mean to be pessimistic, just realistic. Those weekends away are absolutely vital to the health of a long-term relationship, but they’re definitely more fantasy than reality. You don’t need to worry about paying bills or going to work or cleaning-up your kid’s puke on your weekend away. It’s all about each other. When you get home, though, your love is tested. Things aren’t perfect and life happens and your resolve and loyalty to one another is challenged.

That’s what I’m speaking to right now. That time where things are ok, but not “weekend getaway” perfect.

And here’s the thing: Most of the time you don’t need a seminar to get back on track; you just need a reminder.

I asked my wife, “What’s good about our marriage?” The look on her face was my queue to rephrase the question. ”No, I mean, our marriage rules! But why? What makes it so good? That’s what I meant!” I stammered. We talked for a little while and I decided that while that’s a good question and something we should continue to think about, it wasn’t what I was really after. I just wanted that little jolt of energy for us. Something that would punch us in the gut real quick and remind us of how good we are together. Something to get us through the “we’re ok, but not great” time. These were the two questions that did the trick; the ones that served as the reminder for us.

1. What always makes us laugh?
This question is so fun to answer. It could be anything! For us, one of the things that always makes us laugh is coming up with titles of books we will someday write as the powerful marriage advice duo, Drs. Ryan and Julie Haack. Usually we come up with these right after having a fight. Just being honest. Fighting Fair Is For Losers by Drs. Ryan and Julie Haack. When Husbands Cry by Drs. Ryan and Julie Haack. Making-Up Is NOT Overrated by Drs. Ryan and Julie Haack. This is only funny to us, most likely, but that’s the point. What makes you and your spouse laugh without fail? We love watching Modern Family and Parks and Rec, too. Always funny to us. What are your shows? So, think about it: what always makes the two of you laugh? A friend of mine said, “Farting!” Perfect. I guarantee you’ll laugh just answering the question.

2. What do we always like to do together?
One of the things I thought of while answering this question is not something we do very often, but we always love when we get to. Stop it. We’re big Milwaukee Brewers fans and we’re lucky to have one of the best radio broadcasters in the history of the game. Whenever the two of us get to listen to Bob Uecker call a game, we’re happy. It’s comforting and fun and hilarious and makes for a relaxing car-ride for sure. We also love to go to Brewer games together and tailgate. We love to go to movies together. We’re huge documentary fans, too, and are always on the lookout for good ones. What about you? What kinds of things do you and your spouse like to do together? Maybe you like to camp or hike or bike or run or sing together or perform on stage together or paint or build things or volunteer…seriously, the list could go on forever. What I love about this question is remembering all the fun times you’ve had together already, while simultaneously looking forward to doing even more fun things together!

While these two questions may not fix a broken relationship, they certainly can inject some much needed life into one that’s stagnant. So stop being roommates and remember what makes you an awesome couple.

Then fart in the movie theater and laugh about it together.

I LOVE to hear what makes other people laugh! Share what makes you and your spouse laugh every time and some things you like to do together!

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Ryan Haack is a husband, father, writer and pastor in Verona, WI. Keep up with him at his blog,RyanHaack.com and follow him on Twitter @RyanHaack.

The other day some kids stared at me. My son’s class was meeting at the park to perform their year-end songs and I decided to surprise Sam by coming. Earlier I told him I had to work, so when his friends saw me walking toward the park they started shouting, “Sam! Your dad’s here! I thought you said he was for sure not coming?!” Sam ran to me, smiling sheepishly, and wrapped his arms around my neck. Then his friends came over. There they stood. All lined-up, their little 7-year old fingers pointed at me like an adorable firing squad. ”What happened to his arm?” some of them quietly asked. ”Hey, boys,” I said. I mean, I’m used to this.

I was born missing my left arm just below the elbow. People have been staring at me my whole life. Heck, I stare at me when I walk by a store front or when I see myself in a video. I’m different; it’s a fact of life. So, those situations at the park are not altogether uncommon. Kids are curious. They also have no sense of decorum. And that’s totally cool, but honestly, it’s still hard sometimes. It’s hard to be stared at, even when it’s been happening to you for 33 years.

So, how do I deal with it? It helps me to remember a few things.

Kids don’t know any better. I’m not saying kids aren’t smart or anything, I’m just saying they’ve (probably) never seen somebody like me and their brains are still in that stage where they’re like, “HOLY CRAP. THAT DUDE IS MISSING HIS ARM. I MUST KNOW WHY. I WILL ASK HIM IMMEDIATELY.” I think my favorite reaction is when I tell them that I was born without it and they say, “No you weren’t. Where is it really?” They’re convinced I’m somehow hiding it. It’s awesome. So, yes, it can still be somewhat awkward when kids stare, but I can’t fault them. They’re curious; and for good reason.

Parents usually don’t know any better, either. Honestly, parents are harder to deal with. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at them. I kind of pity them, actually. Most of the time they have no idea how to react when their child gets vocal about my arm. And I can’t blame ‘em. I mean, that’s not one of those things you practice with your child. ”Ok, so if we happen to see someone with one arm today, let’s make sure we politely say hello and walk by them without staring. If you must ask them what happened, please do so with dignity and tact.” Right. Usually the kid blurts out, “HE’S GOT A BROKE ARM!” and the mom’s face contorts in terror while she tries not to stare at me and then yells at her kid to be quiet. Awkward. So, for all you parents, take the opportunity to teach your kid that it’s ok to be curious and then help them ask the questions they’re wondering about. Everybody wins when that happens.

We are all infatuated with differences. Did you ever have that little, thick Guinness Book of World Records when you were a kid? The one with those humongous twins on tiny motorcycles? And that super tall guy? And the guy with the fingernails that curled and curled because they were so long? Only now do I recognize the irony in my obsession with the abnormal. The fact is, differences catch our attention. And that’s not bad, it just…is. I notice people stealing glances at my arm during conversations and it doesn’t bother me a bit. I know they can’t help it. They’re not trying to be rude. It’s like looking at a white sheet of paper and trying not to stare at the bright yellow blotch in the corner. Impossible. I understand that.

And while these ideas help me to some extent, the reality is that sometimes it still hurts to be stared at. Maybe you feel the same way. Maybe you’re tall. Or short. Or overweight. Or you have red hair. Or no hair. Or you limp. Or you’re in a wheelchair. Or you’re blind. Or you’re a different color than all your friends. It could be anything. I want to tell you that it’s ok to not enjoy being stared at. I also want to tell you to accept that it is a fact of life. Most people don’t mean to be rude. Most people don’t even want to stare, they just can’t help it.

I challenge you to believe that you were made just right. I had an atheist college professor named Dr. Goodpastor (delicious, right?) who once asked me, “Since you believe in God, shouldn’t you be mad at him for making you that way?” Despite being horribly offensive, his question does make sense. Well, if you believe the only people worth anything are perfectly shaped. I told him that, no, I don’t believe I should be mad at God. He made me this way for a reason. And I believe He made Dr. Goodpastor the way He did for a reason.

And I believe He made you the way He did for a reason.

I believe each of us are “wonderfully made.” (I link to the scripture on my blog)

And when we believe that, it’s makes surviving the stares a little bit easier.

Question: What makes you unique?

EDITOR’S NOTE: Discuss this video over on TheOOZE Forum.

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Ryan Haack is a husband, father, writer and pastor in Verona, WI. Keep up with him at his blog, RyanHaack.com and follow him on Twitter @RyanHaack.

As adults, set in our ways, change is difficult. A reformation of character or faith takes a near death experience, relationship breakdown or some other personal crisis. Changing solid concrete is possible but it takes a jackhammer.

Children, on the other hand, are like wet concrete. They are being poured into and shaped with every conversation, relationship and example. They are open to ideas, practices and new realities – trusting that the adults in their world have it all together and know where they are heading.
In childhood, the spout is spewing wet ready-mix in any direction the adults around us care to direct it. Because children spend the majority of their time with Mum and Dad, faith and values formation primarily happens in the home. Until approximately age 10, children receive and replicate what they see and hear.

They, literally, become what they witness. Dad laughs at a joke, I laugh. Mum bakes a cake, I bake.  They go to church, I go. The maxim, “Do what I say, not what I do” lives and breathes every day but never really works. I watch, I try, I become. This is discipleship in its purest form.

Children are disciples. Parents are disciple-makers. The four steps of discipleship – I do, you watch; we do, I teach; you do, I watch; you do, I go – is active in every home on the planet, intentional or not. The great news is that children are very malleable. If we change, they will too. If we become something new, so will they.

But, we don’t like change, do we?
Jackhammers are scary.

Between the ages of 10 and 12 the concrete is setting. The core moral and spiritual identity of a child has been established but they are still open to detailing and shaping. The questions asked in this stage combine physical reality with heart stuff. What does honesty have to do with homework? When can I be baptised? Why do I have to wear a helmet?

As a child moves through upper primary school, they are ready for more responsibility and authority because they are starting to understand the why at the centre of most of life’s whats. Reasons are important. Friends are becoming barometers of other-worldly realities. My friends’ families are not like mine. He can do whatever he wants – nobody cares. She tells rude jokes – everybody laughs. His Dad is never home. Her Mum yells at her across the carpark. When I visit, they don’t eat together. My friend is scared of his Dad and says mine is weird. I think I know why. I’m different. I’m special. I’m valuable. I am loved.
Most of the faith and values integrated deep in my character and yours were formed in childhood. While emotional fine-tuning and experiential learning continues to shape our nature until the day we topple off the perch, most of the foundational structure of our moral and spiritual reality was established before the first bout of acne scarred our countenance.

Teenagers know it all. Why? Because, “We’re done being wet and we’re never gonna set.” They’ve got a strategy worked out. Be flexible. Roll with the punches. Be like Dad. Don’t be like Dad. “Life’s what happens while you’re waiting for the light to change.” Go a new route. Try an old one. Just don’t sit still! Then the world starts expecting them to be a slab – useful, functional and practical – ready to build on. They fight it for a while – chasing rainbows around the planet – only to return and realise responsibility is not so bad. And they set.

Then, they have children and it starts all over again!

There are so many verses from scripture that we can turn to for strength and a clear direction for our lives as disciple-makers. The core truth to remember as parents is, “By beholding we are changed.” A passage which often comes to mind as my children surround me, was penned by Paul for the disciple-making parent in all of us:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart (Hebrews 12:1-3, NIV).

Paul invites us – implores us, even – to look upon Jesus. And the ever-fixed mark of unshakeable Love will shape us bit by bit as we in turn shape another into His image. This is disciple-making. This is parenting.
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Author/Storyteller David Edgren is the Children’s Ministry Director for the Victorian Conference of the Seventh-day Adventist Church in Melbourne, Australia. Check out his blog at http://prdaveonline.blogspot.com.

Certainly the reasons for the K-12 problem are complex, and real solutions that are effective seem equally complicated. There is a personal example I am aware of however, that really works well.

For the past couple of years, my son has attended Oneonta Community Christian School (OCCS) in upstate New York. I also serve on the Board at OCCS which is non-denominational focusing on Christian values and academics. OCCS students are often ahead of their outside peers and graduates have gone on to attend prestigious universities. The K-12 school is small in size (only 60-70 students at any given time), so it is literally like going back to the one-room school house. There is a family atmosphere where teachers and parents not only watch out for their own kids, but the other kids as well. In fact, the kids watch out for the other kids. My son thrives at OCCS and actually looks forward to going to school. He does his homework without being prompted (most of the time), and often completes assignments ahead of deadline. He has developed a desire to learn and knows it is one of his responsibilities. He is competing 7th grade but can easily handle some of the quantitative problems in a freshman college course. I could not be more grateful to OCCS.

What else makes OCCS so successful? A big factor is the holistic view that students, parents, teachers, and staff have towards life in general (not just academics). For people of faith (and the OCCS community is highly faith oriented), this is the opposite of compartmentalizing. The parents are not only engaged in their child’s education, but in the operation of the school, fund raisers, PTA meetings, etc. OCCS students not only excel in academics, but grow spiritually and learn to support each other in a loving and caring way. Academics are enhanced because other areas of life that impact the learning environment are enhanced. In fact, OCCS is a fun place to be with all types of activities going on: music, sports, social functions, etc.

At OCCS, the teachers are our unsung heroes because they work tirelessly on behalf of our children. They do this for a fraction of the salary at public schools (money is not their primary motivator anyway). They do this because they want to be there – they have a “calling” to be there. They encourage students to work together and support each other. It is not unusual for my son to seek advice from students in higher grades – and students in lower grades have come to him for assistance. Last month when he was home sick for a few days, the teacher and entire class called to check in on him. If somebody is having a difficult day, there are many people around for a friendly hug. It is that kind of a place.

Many individuals have written about incorporating faith in other areas of life. Ken Eldred did it in his book The Integrated Life. Dr. John Coverdale (who taught at Princeton, Northwestern, and Seaton Hall) did it with his books on Opus Dei and Catholic doctrine. The Catholic Framework for Economic Life (CFEL) was a reference point for me on previous articles, and many others had their own way of approaching the topic.

Because faith is at the center of all aspects of OCCS, a favorite scriptural verse often comes to mind. Romans 12-2: says “Do not conform yourselves to the standards of this world, but let God transform you inwardly by a complete change of your mind. Then you will be able to know the will of God – what is good and is pleasing to Him, and is perfect”. When thinking of the conforming vs. transforming aspects in Romans 12:2, I often conceptualize it in graphical form:

The four quadrants of Romans 12:2 can be applied to Christian schools like OCCS:

1. Quadrant 1 is the most desirable (high faith transforming / low world values conforming).
   Almost everyone I know in the OCCS community falls into this quadrant. They are living the holistic life: transformed by faith and rejecting external values inconsistent with Christian beliefs. Nothing is compartmentalized. OCCS is effective because they allow students to be transformed in a positive direction instead of being adversely impacted by negative external cultural forces. Because faith is integrated everywhere, sports, music, social activities (and academics of course) start reinforcing each other. There is a synergy effect because everyone at OCCS has similar values and goals. They are all on the same page – working together, and supporting each other to educate children consistent with the faith we all share.
   .
2. Quadrant 2 (high faith transforming / high world values conforming)
   Is it possible for faith-based schools (and other institutions) to be transformed by faith, but also conforming to values external to faith? Some would argue no because that would not meet the true definition of transformation. I believe it is possible however, and these institutions would fall into Quadrant 2. An example would be a Christian school that spends too much money needlessly on excessively elaborate facilities (high conforming to culture). The school is attempting to project an image that may be desirable to the world, but not humble to God’s desires. The school may do a good job teaching Christian principles (high transformation), but if money is being spent frivolously and inconsistently with faith values, then there is a problem. This is not the case at OCCS where facilities are modest which helps keeping costs low for parents. Thus, conforming to external standards of this type (or others) is “checked at the door” at OCCS.
   .
3. Quadrant 3 (low faith transforming / low world values conforming)
   Is it possible for faith-based schools (and other institutions) to not really be implementing faith principles the way they should, but doing a reasonably good job of not conforming to external values? Again, some would argue no because that would not meet the true definition of transformation. I believe it is possible however, and these institutions would fall into Quadrant 3. Example: A Christian institution where administrators make sweeping judgments about faculty without knowing all the facts. Externally, the institution may appear to be adhering to their principles and not conforming to outside values (low conforming). Inwardly however, this institution is engaging in behavior that is not very Christian like (low transformation). Again, this is not the case at OCCS where everyone does their best to adhere to common faith principles.
   .
4. Quadrant 4 (low faith transforming / high world values conforming)
   These would be institutions that are faith-based in name only (equivalent to many secular institutions in some ways).

Certainly I am not contending or advocating that good education is exclusively the domain of faith-based schools. There are obviously other schools and teachers out there that work hard and do their best at educating our youths. In fact, there were two teachers and one principal that really stood out when my son was in different public school systems. Having said this though, the good teachers and administrators often seem like they are in a system that is archaic and ineffective. This is the reason my wife and I searched for an alternative a few years ago. We came to learn for Christian schools to be effective however, they must operate in Quadrant 1 of the Romans 12:2 graph. In other words, they must practice what they preach.

My wife and I are fortunate because our son attends such a school. The school administration and parents support the teachers – and all are engaged on behalf of the kids. The students sense this, learn from it, and grow spiritually, academically, and in other ways. It is exciting to watch and I thank God OCCS is a true Romans 12-2 school.

Copyright ©2011 William Raynor. All rights reserved. Published here by permission.

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Dr. William J. Raynor III is the Professor of Finance and International Business within then Business & Information Technology Department at State University of New York (SUNY) at Delhi.