Sunrising...

Yo', the Sun is coming.

Truth.

Winter sunrises are so nice because the dark of winter nights is so awful. Up at 5:30am each morning, I wander downstairs and open the living room blinds. In summer, this is a glorious moment, the sun is already kissing the rooftops, the Muskoka chairs are glistening with fresh dew, the tree swing invariably has a playful squirrel or two flitting about on it, the lawn flashes its emerald green-ness like a wide-mouthed grin, birds chirp and all is well with the World.

Not this time of year.

Nor this time of life.

Man, SUCH a brutal year we're having. It's been almost crazy. I don't want to go into details 'cause I find it tiresome, and realize these kind of online posts can 'read' as so 'self-indulgent' and navel-gazing from where you sit, dear reader.

I'm FB'ed out. Twitted out. Even IG is starting to bug me. Food, hot girls, cars, and travel destinations, that's it. Sick of it.

I've stopped listening to current pop music on the radio 'cause it's so annoying. I tell myself this means that I'm getting old. I remember my parents listening to the same classical and jazz stations I tend to go to these days when they were my age and I was sitting in the back of their cars.

See, there are no inane lyrics ('All I wanted was to break your walls...") in classical and instrumental jazz. Phew.

Funny how I had NO idea how hard their lives were. I wonder if my kids know what mine is like?

There's a curious balance there. I want to be honest with them about the process of living but certainly don't want them dealing with the same kind of stress I'm dealing with 'cause, after all, they're still kids and deserve to be ignorantly happy a little longer, no?

This morning, as I prepped breakfast and school/work departure, I found myself wondering if they'll remember me as always grumpy and stressed. This is not good. I need to work at finding true happiness and sitting down into it more often and consistently. Soon enough they're bound to make the connection between my unhappiness and the pressures of father-hood and it's only a hop skip and a jump from there to, "Well, gee, it must be my fault..."

Sadness all around me. Divorces, bankruptcies, sickness, death, cancer, misery, infidelity, greed, hopelessness, abuse, loneliness, aimlessness, selfishness, vendetta, pride, entitlement, waste, inertia.

Oyyyy.

It hit me in the car today that the whole "If you don't introduce someone to Jesus before the age of 18, you've lost them..." thing might be TOTALLY wrong. It seems to me that you don't really know ANYTHING about life 'till your late 30's (or whenever it is that you've lived long enough to truly suffer) and, from watching my own life, and those of the people around me, I think you might be more receptive than EVER to the hope of the Jesus-story, in your middle-age, 'cause--dang--but life sure 'aint offering much in and of itself anymore.

It's like life is all speed bumps these days; rapid ups and downs.

BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP.

Like, the other night, after a BRUTAL day of insecurity and stress, I come home after my run, looked at the two vehicles in my driveway (neither of which paid off yet) and I'm overcome with gratefulness. Each vehicle is the one I *always* wanted growing up. So I stood there, all sweaty and swaddled in many layers against the winter night, and I raised my arms Heavenward (literally) and vocally (literally) blessed the Lord of Hosts for His goodness.

These weird spontaneous outbursts of thanksgiving are happening more often lately, and it's definitely NOT because my 'external circumstances' are super-awesome or anything.

Maybe this is 'godliness'. I've certainly preached that it is. Thanksgiving. Being truly, honestly, simply grateful for everything, moment by moment.

Perhaps that's how you answer the constant barrage of bumps and sorrow; with a constant barrage of praise and thanksgiving.

I realize some people think I'm crazy believing this stuff. To them I would love to say, "So how's YOUR friggin' life-system working out for you? Are you happier than me? More peaceful than me? Do you spontaneously worship in your driveway because you own two Hondas?"

(I always want to lace a few expletives into these tirades but you never know when my Mother--who I love--or some 'church people'--not so much--might be listening in. It'd sound better with 'em in there though. Feel free to insert them yourself, in your mind)

I'm married 17 years this Christmas. I've known her 20. She's only 37 and I'm 39. We've been together longer than we've been apart. I'll shout about THAT from my driveway or the freakin' ROOFTOPS whichever is closer. My four kids are turning into people, with gifts, quirks, strengths and weaknesses. I'm twenty years in on one side of my career (the Preacher side) and 15 on the other (the Producer side). Have I 'achieved' all my goals? Certainly not. Have I wasted my time? Also, not.

My friend has a family member who may die this week at a VERY (grossly) young age. Thinking about him lying there waiting to die was super-sobering for me this week. I thought to myself, would I have REGRETS if I was to die this week? Honestly, the first answer that came to mind was, yes, I would. But then I thought about it, reflecting on what more I could be doing other than what I'm currently doing. The answer was, not much. A little, a few tweaks here and there, but not much.

So, here I sit, still doing what I've always done.

Waiting for the Sunrise.

T

It's MY fault...

So true.

We often blame everyone BUT ourselves for the problems we're facing. It occurred to me again this week that it is useful to turn the lens of self-examination on ourselves from time to time. 

What am I doing that contributes to this? How much of this is my fault? What can I change about this situation? Where did I drop the ball?

If you're anything like me, I think you'll find that, more often than not  there's A LOT you can do if you just stop and ask yourself some of those questions.

Naturally, there will be times when you can't do anything; in those moments just let yourself move on. But keep asking the questions, keep putting yourself under the microscope.

God knows I need to.

T

(if you want to watch the sermon the begot the quote, you can watch it, HERE.)

'I Lift My Eyes Up'

When times are rough.

PREACH.

T

Again...

Disaster, again this week.

So we'll play football tomorrow.

That's how you deal with it, right? You keep going. And, if you're me, you PREACH your way through it. This week's sermon was written for my wife, who's in Maui sitting by her Dad who had a massive stroke on Monday. He lived. They told us the first few days were the most 'touch and go'. Now that he's off life-support and breathing on his own we get to watch and wait to see if he'll ever walk or talk or sail or garden or build or squeeze his grandkids ever again.

(I'm betting he will)

He's 64.

Balls.

Disaster.

Did I mention we've had three deaths in our family this year? Did I further mention that I've lost two major contracts this year? (and I'm not even going to mention the financial impact in this public of a space) It might be enough to say...

I'm thinking of changing my name to 'Job'.

:)

Am I feeling sorry for myself, ourselves? Nope. I'm loving Jesus. Painfully.

Seriously, as we've walked through this, the wife and I have found ourselves leaning more and more closely on the presence and love of Jesus, which has been VERY palpable in our day to day living. Let's not sugar-coat it, we're still in deep--chest pain inducing--stress almost every moment of every day but, simply put, as a result we're finding ourselves forced into moment to moment living in the arms of Christ. Simple.

If Jesus isn't your sustaining mercy and grace and power and joy in these type of seasons that what-in-the-heck-is-the-point-of-a-life-of-faith anyway? Right?

Right.

So we're putting our 'money' where our pain is.

For us, it's onward and upward to Zion. Onward and upward with Jesus. We're LOVING life, in deepest sorrow and insecurity and pain and in 'worst-case scenario' (at least top-ten level) type suffering.

Which is why I'm preaching my heart out this Sunday online from Psalm 121 and why Sam will play his heart out and I'll coach mine out tomorrow.

'Cause we're learning (and teaching him) that life is too wonderful to stop living.

Truth.

T

Just in case you missed the links posted on twitter and facebook this weekend, here's the direct link to my first sermon (of the video preaching era) on youtube.

"Stay HOME and get to WORK"

(or: How to live THROUGH dark times)

A little closer...

Well, we're almost there.

Thought I'd post a wee screen grab from my sermon video for this upcoming Sunday. Yes, I know I look funny, that's kind of the point.

Spent an hour or so today getting the text inserts and final tweaks done. I'm pretty pleased with how it looks and feels.

I'll release it Sunday morning on YouTube. There will be links here there and everywhere from my blog to facebook, twitter and instagram. 

If you're looking forward to it and know some people who you think might benefit from a 'todd-ish' approach to exploring the Bible, please tell them about it. I'm excited to share these around and, obviously, when it comes to this sort of thing, the more people the merrier.

I've been getting a lot of notes online and off expressing excitement about this and I've found that really encouraging. Thanks for your interest.

Looking forward to *seeing you* (or at least *you* seeing me) this coming Sunday Morning.

Much love,

T

Doin' work...

Back at it today.

'Cause of this verse (and my wife, but more on that later)...

"Even so, the Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should live from the gospel..."
                                                                          -1 Cor 9:14 (NKJV)

I stumbled on that verse a couple weeks back in my daily reading and it jumped off the page at me, as if written just for me.

"Get back to work Todd..."

See, we merged THE WELL (a small church we planted in Burlington 2009) with another Church in the area in April of this year and that merge ended up being a short-lived affair with me ending up church-less and pulpit-less as of June.

Not good, if you're a preacher.

Last time this happened to me (I retired from my first church plant in 2007) I ended up having a very bad couple of years that my wife still refers to every time I get that 'dark look' around my eyes.

"You're not going to pull a 2007 on my, are you?" she'll ask, and I'll get the point.

No Ma'am.

So, I spent the summer thinking and waiting, expecting to get some kind of 'direction' as to what I was supposed to do next work-wise. I was still producing television (and that's going quite well these days) but the loss of a pulpit coupled with the loss of the income that had been coming from preaching was a significant issue that was going to need fixing as soon as possible.

It's hard, in those moments, to 'stand still and see the salvation of God...' when everything in you (or at least in me) wants to rush out and fix things yourself.

Anyway, I was in the midst of waiting (and busy resurrecting my devotional life--which goes through ups and downs) when the above passage in 1 Corinthians grabbed me by the throat.

The message is clear. Paul is saying that, if you're a 'professional preacher' (ie: called of God to preach as evidenced by years in the pulpit and fruitful ministry over the long term) you ought to earn your living from being a preacher.

With, or without a church.

That said, thank God for the internet and for the fact that I'm a TV producer.

So, last week I sat down like I always do (same routine, same system, same music in the earphones) and wrote a new sermon which I shot today on white at my office with some of my TV gear. We'll piece it together this week and post it online in time for this Sunday.

And, so begins another chapter.

As long as someone watches, that is.

The fear attached to that (worrying no one will care to watch) kept me from shooting the sermon all of last week and the first part of this. I was procrastinating because I was afraid. Afraid of failure and rejection. Seems you never unlearn some things.

My wife helped me, as she usually does.

"So, you preached your new sermon yet? I told (so and so) about you posting new sermons and her eyes lit up, for whatever that's worth..."

Sweet wife--knew just what to say.

"No, not yet, I've been scared. I'll do it today though..."

Wonderful woman.

So I did. Shot it. Today.

You'll see it Sunday.

Two points from this:

1) Do what you've been made to do, even if people or circumstances get in your way.
2) Never let fear freeze you forever.

And, shower with your wife. That's where we were when she asked the question that turned the tide.

:)

See you on Sunday!

T