"Ma'am, I'd like to bless your day."

Maybe a month or so ago I received an email from our school district. It was an invitation about several school/community discussions at my son’s school on the issues of race and equality. The invitation had dates and times for families of color and dates and times for families not of color. I read it and thought hmmm? Which would include our family? I showed it to my son and asked him if he would like to participate? His response surprised me, “They are so stupid.” He seldom shows strong emotion. That invitation bothered him. He mumbled a few other words and then made it clear to me, “No, I do not want to participate.” He didn’t want to talk about it anymore so I didn’t mention it again. But I have thought about it since. Some things are difficult. Some issues are sensitive no matter how pure your intentions are. I never set out to be an adoptive family. I didn’t really have a plan except that I love God and I wanted to do what His word says I should do. I also love children. My life experiences have made me especially sensitive to children that have unmet needs. So fostering seemed like a natural choice for me and my family. I truly believe God has blessed our journey but it still has difficulties. I know that several of my black children’s parents did not want them in a white family. They told me so. I have been referred to in court as pink skinned, pink pig, you people, and them. It didn’t make me feel offended. I felt sad and they were probably hurt and sad too. Over time we were able to form positive relationships with my children’s families. All of my adopted children’s mothers asked us to adopt their children. It was their choice and we agreed to do so. It still makes me sad at times. I wonder what I can do better? What should I say? Are my children going to struggle because of our physical differences? Will love be enough? Honestly I don’t have the answers. I don’t know how our family’s story plays out.

Today I read this quote from Bob Goff, “We’re God’s plan, and we always have been. We aren’t just supposed to be observers, listeners, or have a bunch of opinions. We’re not here to let everyone know what we agree and don’t agree with, because, frankly, who cares? Tell me about the God you love; tell me about what He has inspired uniquely in you; tell me about what you’re going to do about it, and a plan for your life will be pretty easy to figure out from there. I guess what I’m saying is that most of us don’t get an audible plan for our lives. It’s way better than that. We get to be God’s plan for the world by pointing people towards Him.”

Show love to each other. Be kind. Acknowledge each other’s differences and experiences. Be respectful.

Yesterday, I was at Wegman’s shopping with my girls. They were each picking out some things for their weekend with Bailey and Alyssa. JJ wanted candy and lots of it! I told her that we needed to pick healthy treats to avoid being hyper🤩. I noticed a black man watching us. Through his masked faced, his eyes seemed to enjoy listening to my candy addicted daughter’s attempts to talk me into, “lots of candy!” But I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t see his whole face. A little of me felt insecure. Was he wondering why she had a white mom? Did he disapprove? My insecurities got the best of me. We started to check out and he got behind us in line. JJ continued pointing out all the candy at her eye level. The man got my attention to say, “Excuse me, ma’am, I would like to bless your day and pay for your groceries.” And he did just that❤️.

God is such a good father to me. He used that man yesterday to send me a message. We are all God’s people. Love each other!!! Stop worrying. Focus on Him.

Jill

Awesome Father

As I pulled into the church for a memorial service this week I got an overwhelming anxious feeling in my gut. I am awkward around grief and death. My mind races. I overthink everything. I wanted to be early and I wanted to be late to avoid doing or saying something wrong. Maybe these feelings are more normal than I think they are but I have never discussed them with anyone to find out.

I am not the most polished fellow when it comes to looking the mature or professional part or adhering to norms. I work on it but sometimes I think it’s better for me to stay home.

I saw a young couple I know headed to the front door so I moved quickly through the parking lot to get behind them in line. We made small talk until the doors opened, letting us in. I realized I was trying to make them laugh and so I just stopped talking. As I walked into the foyer and then into the sanctuary I made nervous eye contact with each of the men I know. We nodded at each other, silently communicating, “This is crazy. Losing a brother sucks. Love you man.” At least that is what each nod seemed to represent to me.

I found a seat near the back and began searching for familiar faces while trying to look stoic. The room was filling with his family, friends, ministry partners, homeschoolers, Boy Scouts, and police officers. The room itself is beautiful. Very traditional. Long and narrow. Big arches holding up the roof. A pulpit of wood to hold the Word of God at the front with an enormous wooden cross filling the wall behind the pulpit. Musicians were playing peacefully as the seats were filling.

We were about to celebrate the life of one of the finest Christian men we have ever known.

I began to pray for his wife and his children and the preacher that would be preaching. I couldn’t stay in prayer. I kept trying but I felt herky-jerky, gittery. I pulled out my phone and re-read my daily Bible reading. I was in Psalm 39. Verses 4-5‬ say:

“Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah.”

‭I repeated, “my end and my days. My end and my days...” over and over again. Lord, help me to understand who I am in You. Lord, use my frailty. Lord, help me to make every moment count for You.

The preacher started the service with prayer and then the song leader led us in congregational hymns. He shared, “The family said this was one of his favorites.” When I got to the right page in the hymnal I couldn’t contain my joy. This was my favorite hymn to sing also. It is page 255 in my old hymnal at home. My first tear of the day rolled down my cheek. As we began to sing it became apparent very quickly that I was the only one in my area that loved the song. I could feel the stares of the people around me every time I shouted “Hallelujah!” but I knew my brother would want nothing less than me singing from my heart unto our Lord. At some point someone shared one of our brother’s favorite scriptures, where our Lord tells us what is most important for us and our children, to Love the Lord our God with our whole heart, soul, mind and strength. I smiled large because I remind myself daily of the same truth, praying for my family.

After the hymns three young people began singing “It is Well with my Soul”. A young man at the piano. Two young ladies behind him. I squinted to see who they were. When I realized it was his children, tears began to flow down my face as these kids sang to Jesus in honor of their daddy who was gone.

Three men got up to eulogize their brother. An uncle to represent the family. The man who discipled him to represent all of his brothers in Christ and a fellow police officer to represent his brothers in blue. I don’t know if that is what they intended these three men to represent but it seemed perfect to me. Hearty “Amens” could be heard throughout as we agreed with the good words spoken about a darn good man. He was all that we thought he was.

Then one of his little girls stepped up to the pulpit to declare her undying love for her daddy. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I sobbed. I snorted. I tried to keep the snot inside my nose as I shared a drop of her ocean of grief. I can’t imagine.

Then his teenage son stepped up to the pulpit. A slim, humble, yet confident young man stood tall to honor his father. He had written down what he wanted to say to be sure he did not forget anything, but he decided to “go off script” as he put it. He went on to describe exactly what happened leading up to his father’s death, immediately afterward, and the days that followed. He wanted to glorify God in the midst of their pain. He declared to everyone who could hear his voice, “There is a God.” I cried and cried. He thanked everyone who had loved on their family, helping to get them through. He went on to eulogize his dad and demonstrated to everyone that his daddy had done right and well and had raised some incredibly strong children.

When he was done he introduced a song he had written a week or two before his father died. He quietly walked over to the piano, took a quick drink of water and played and sang one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard.

The preacher communicated collective support for our local police. It was a very tactful, rousing, demonstration of support for our local police, and it just felt good. I don’t clap in church but I felt like I had to put my hands together a little so I didn’t look like a hater. I just don’t like clapping in church for a singer or a preacher or anyone else who may be stealing the glory from God in His house. Part of my rebellion hangover I suppose. But it felt good and right to thank our local police for serving and protecting us.

The preacher then gave his own eulogy for our brother and shared the Gospel of Jesus Christ with all who could hear, exactly the way our brother would have wanted. I prayed that all would come to repentance and faith in our Lord Jesus.

I sat there and kinda relished in our similarities. We both work full time, minister full time, parent full time, try to love our wives like Christ loved the church and gave Himself for it, attempt to live by the same guiding words of our Lord Jesus, and have the same favorite hymns. Other than the fact that he was tall, handsome, athletic, a dominating basketball player, tough, and righteous, all of which I am found lacking, we are like two peas in a pod.

I want a similar legacy. How am I living? I began to think about each of my children. One by one thinking of all of their unique challenges and how much each one has blessed me. Reminding myself that their challenges are who they are and my blessing as their father is the thrill of demonstrating genuine love to each of them individually regardless of my weaknesses.

I allowed myself to dwell on my mistakes as a father long enough to feel broken. The sweet joy of brokenness is what my Lord can do with me once I get there.

I got up from my seat thankful I had been there because God had done a work in me. I was once again excited to be alive, to do right, and to pursue greatness as a man of God, a husband, and a father.

Life is rich and rotten all at the same time. High highs and low lows. Regardless of my circumstances I must strive for excellence.

Lord, help me to understand who I am in You. Lord, use my frailty. Lord, help me to make every moment count for You. That should be easy enough... For You Lord.

Happy Father’s Day my friends.

“The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”

Pete

Headlines & Life

Earlier today I was breezing through the headlines as fast as I could go, never wanting to get caught up in anything too deeply. I like to stay informed by headline so I don’t get too frenzied or callused by it all. I read a lot but I try to limit how much news and commentary I take in. I listen to audiobooks a lot also. Free audiobooks and wireless ear pods are finer things in life. The craziness of the news can get me way too fired up. What is fact? What is crap? How can they spew such blatant propaganda? I mutter things like “useful idiots” and “mental disorder”. Does anyone ever carry these things out to their conclusions? We can’t be that crazy, can we? Sometimes I even break into song - making up the lyrics as I go. Amusing myself for sure with my little diddies.

The truth is that I really enjoy politics and debate. I love it. I like the folks who do what they say they are going to do. I especially like the folks who get the right things done. I am not fond of political lying, cheating, and stealing but every part of the game fuels my giddy-up. I have determined to limit myself, otherwise that is all I think about when I should be focused on more important things. When it’s time to lose myself in meditation I’d rather be lost in much more positive things, like becoming an awesome man, husband, and father. The things that I do have control of.

I am not a right-wing or a left-wing guy and I’m definitely not in the middle. I like logic and I like to be right. I like to know that I know that I am right. When I know I am right I get dimples and twinkles - sly, pompous, dimples and twinkles of sweet joy to be sure. When one finds themselves contrary to my rightness they will likely be very frustrated. They may even lose their composure, which is not always the best way for me to win friends and influence people. Embarrassing ourselves through ignorance or foolishness is never fun and always leaves a mark. For many years now I ask myself, “When they leave our conversation or think of me later, do they see Jesus or one of the politicians or figureheads they hate?”

I think that is one of the reasons I like to preach the Word of God so much. In those brief moments I can be right, Super-right. I believe that the fine art of preaching lies in the ability to communicate truth (what is right), applying it to all of us without condescension or superiority, allowing our Lord to do what only He can do in our hearts. When you can do that you have every right to have permagrin.

The truth is what keeps me sane. It keeps me balanced. Truth is what allows me to remain calm in the midst of craziness. Last night Jill was expressing her concerns about the world around us. She asked me if I was concerned? I replied, “Not really,” then I asked her if she preferred me to be freaking out. She said, “If you start freaking out, I’m going to really start freaking out!” I think being as “cool as the other side of the pillow” is a strength but I know there is a fine line between calm confidence and fickle indifference. I like to think I am the former but only God knows for sure.

The headlines today scream impending doom, fear, hatred, anger, and blame. One headline caught me unexpectedly sideways, “Coronavirus now third leading cause of US deaths…” I started thinking about our leading causes of death. I got very emotional for a few seconds. I almost cried thinking of how sad and destructive it is to kill someone. Knowing you have taken a life out of convenience or fear. Knowing it was a choice and it didn’t have to happen. Killing someone has to tear you apart from the inside for the rest of your life. The intrinsic value of our life is so absolute that taking someone else’s life rages against our hearts. It must affect every relationship and decision forever. I have walked a mile or two down on a lot of different paths in life but I have never had to walk a mile in shoes that have taken innocent blood. I have no idea what that is like. I pray that my life will be love and compassion to those that have. I also pray that my logic and reason will always lead to life.

Recently an old man died that I think I would have liked to share a good laugh and a Coke with. So much to glean from our elders. I didn’t really give it much thought until he was gone.

A few weeks ago we learned that a friend from our hometown has cancer. That struck me in my heart also. I don’t think I have seen her since high school but the memories of our childhood together came flooding back. We were in the same class K-12. Before junior high (when I discovered other distractions) we competed for the best grades. I think I came in second or third most of the time. Good memories of more innocent times. I thought of when she lost her best friend, her husband, the father of her beautiful children several years ago now. I think of her daily and pray for her and all of her little ones. Life is so precious.

My son and his bride revealed the gender of our first grandchild this week. When I found out it was a boy I did a little dance around the house. I couldn’t help myself. A rush of happy-happy made me silly for a few seconds as I grabbed Gabriella’s hands and twirled around the house singing, “My family name continues! My family name continues! Baby Pete Farrell! Baby Pete Farrell.” I’m pretty sure his name will not be Pete. They were discussing potential names a few weeks ago. None of them were anything related to my side of the family. I mentioned it jokingly to Jill afterward. She calmly responded, “What are you talking about? You get the best part.” My face was stuck on smile for the rest of the evening. I’m smiling right now. It sounds a little selfish and trite I know but no matter what his first name is, his jersey will say, “FARRELL”. So sweet.

Be a ‘Helper’ in Jesus' Name

Like most of you, the last several days have been a whirlwind of information. I have gone from reading articles to educate myself on the Coronavirus issues, to the realization, “Oh wow, okay, this is a real issue for my Country, my County, my home.” I am not much of a gloom and doom thinker. I am, however, a planner. I do spend much of my free time in thought, pondering things and situations. I love to write lists and be prepared. With 5 children still at home to care for, the last thing I want is to be unprepared.

Several weeks ago, I read an article about the known affects COVID-19 has on children. The information in that particular article was hopeful and encouraging for our younger population based on those that had already contracted the virus. They can be carriers but the actual symptoms for them thus far have been generally mild. The writer of the article highlighted the concern for those with compromised immune systems, young and old. As a mom of a little guy with a weak immune system, and a history of breathing issues that have led to pneumonia, I took notice and made a list, just in case. I did get online to find disinfectant wipes for my van, shopping carts and toys. I bought a four pack of hospital strength antibacterial hand soap and some food surface safe kitchen cleaner spray. I didn’t think to buy extra toilet paper because I already get a big pack delivered monthly. Which on a side note, has been canceled by Target! But with each additional article I read, I started to think, we should be prepared as a family and community in case this virus or any other emergency should befall us. Immediately I thought of those that would need help, the elderly, others with compromised immune systems, single parents, those without family support, and those on limited incomes.

This morning as I prayed I asked God to show me His will for me in this situation. How can I be a blessing to others and keep my children safe? Could He show me those that need help or encouragement? In all situations I want to represent Him well. I don’t, but I want too.

I started to think of reasons why I can’t help. And even reasons why I shouldn’t help. I do this at times. I talk myself out of serving others. I do what I refer to as self-preserve or put myself first. I don’t think it is Christ like but I do it. Sometimes I talk myself into believing it is completely justified and wise. And in this case, it isn’t all that hard to do. This is a highly contagious virus. It might be very dangerous for my son. It has been strongly advised that we as a community voluntarily self-quarantine, stay home, and prevent the spread of this virus. My children’s schools have been closed until further notice. This is serious. I asked myself again, how can I help from home with 5 children?

I once watched a short YouTube video, “Look For The Helpers,” that Fred Rogers filmed after 9/11. He calmly spoke these words, “To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers ― so many caring people in this world. Look off to the side and you will see the ‘helpers’ quietly helping others.” I love that. Yes, it is true. There are caring people that are willing to help even at low and/or high risk to themselves. I thought of doctors and nurses, police officers and firefighters, teachers and child care providers. Yes, they get paid and it is their regular jobs but in times of crisis they don’t HAVE to do it. They choose to. As Peter says, “No one has a gun to their heads making them.” I am so thankful to the everyday ‘helpers.’

I don’t like risk. I am definitely not a risk taker. I generally don’t trust people. I am usually suspicious. But I can honestly say, I trust God. I mean that. This morning I began reading my Bible in search of guidance. This is just a little bit of the treasures I found:

“Thou shalt surely give him, and thine heart shall not be grieved when thou givest unto him: because that for this thing the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all that thou puttest thine hand unto. For the poor shall never cease out of the land: therefore I command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land.” (Deuteronomy‬ ‭15:10-11‬)

“I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts‬ ‭20:35)

And this:

“Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” (Philippians‬ ‭2:4-8‬)

That is the God I trust.

The County called this past weekend, on a Saturday which is very unusual, asking if during this crisis, would I be willing to watch one or two foster children during the day. Having schools and daycares closed is going to make it very difficult for working foster parents. Some will not be able to foster without child care. Where will all of these children go in addition to the children just coming into care on a daily basis? Finding stay at home foster parents willing to take in extra kids during this time will be very difficult. My first thought was, “you should ask someone else.” But then my second thought was, “I bet she is!” She will probably spend her day calling every available foster parent in their database. This is an emergency or else they would not even be asking. I am not a nurse or a doctor, a police officer or a firefighter, but I wondered for a moment if they too ever think, “you should call someone else,” out of fear or self-preservation?

I want to do my part. I want to be a ‘helper.’ Most importantly, I want to represent Christ well.

“Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matthew‬ ‭25:34-40‬)

It does say, “hungred, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick.” I think God’s words mean exactly what it looks like they mean. So, I need to trust Him and obey. Give even if it cost me. Do unto others, especially when it cost me! Not out of my extra, but out of my all. It is really all His anyways. Help when I am uncertain. That’s when He gets the glory. Look for those in need. Pray without ceasing. Daily be in His word for guidance. It can be done quietly, and safely, off to the side like Mr. Rogers said, one person at a time. Be a ‘helper,’ in Jesus name.

I try not to panic. When I start to feel that uneasy feeling of fear sneak in, I pray and recite truth from God’s word:

“But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” (Isaiah‬ ‭43:1-2‬)

I want to encourage you to read all of Isaiah 43 when you feel weak or scared. God is talking to Israel is that chapter but He is the same God today! He will get us through this trial too.

Look for the good. Sing His praises even in the valley. Yesterday a wonderful couple from our church quickly and quietly dropped off a meal at my house. My heart was so full. In the midst of this crisis, when interactions with others can put you at risk, they made my family of 9 a meal!! I sat on the couch covered with a blanket, recovering from surgery, and watched my family at the table, talking, laughing, and enjoying that delicious meal together. I truly believe acts of love, and the effects of doing good unto others, is more contagious than this virus. Of course, I recommend being safe. Wash your hands often, limit interactions, keep all surfaces in your vehicle and home clean, don’t touch your face, and for those of you, like me, that have the terrible habit of biting your nails, stop! Honestly, I am struggling with that. It is probably a bad habit I started 40 years ago. COVID-19 might just break it! But still look for ways to serve others and show love. I believe in blessings from God. Sometimes they come in mysterious, unexpected ways. I keep giving away my toilet paper and paper products and He keeps replenishing it!!!

I can’t encourage us enough to enjoy this time together. Spend time as a family in prayer. Use this as an opportunity to teach our children. Play board games. Do a puzzle. Take a walk. For this too shall pass. I don’t ever remember a time when my whole family was home for more than a long weekend. Well, now my older children and my younger children are home together until further notice. And I plan to enjoy every moment allowed to me. As we go out to deliver treats, toys, games, disinfectant spray and a few paper towels, I hold on to the words of my Lord, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John‬ ‭16:33‬)

Jill

My Friend Barbara

After much prayer, I share a request for a young lady that could really use a community of love and support.

Two years ago, I met Barbara. It was an instant friendship. She has a sweet, outgoing, and likable personality. She had recently “aged out” of foster care. (At the age of 21 you are no longer eligible to be in foster care and all associated support ends on your 21st birthday.) Happy birthday to you! The hope is that by 21, the young person will be on a positive path towards adulthood. Ultimately, there is an expectation that their years in foster care will prepare them with the skills and tools needed to succeed and they will be matched with a loving, supportive, lifelong family. Unfortunately, loving, supportive, lifelong families are hard to find. And so was the case for Barbara, no such family was found. At the age of 21 she was on her own. I was introduced to her by a mutual friend. “l’d like you to meet Barbara. I think you will just love her!” They were right, I just loved Barbara.

In 2018 my husband and I went on a trip to Haiti. We learned about the catastrophic earthquake the country suffered in 2010. It is believed that nearly 300,000 Haitians lost their lives, hundreds of thousands were injured, and 1.5 million people became homeless. At the time of our trip the country had not recovered from the disaster. I fell in love with Haiti and its beautiful people. I saw their strength and resilience. Part of me wished I could stay there forever. I prayed that God would use that trip to show me what He had planned for me in Rochester, NY. He did in many ways. That year I met Barbara. God works in marvelous ways.

Barbara is Haitian. She was injured in the 2010 earthquake in Haiti. Many of her family members were killed that day. She was flown to the US for emergency surgery and was placed in foster care. Unfortunately, finding that loving, supportive, foster family was not her experience. She never found a “forever family” here in the US. Thankfully, she is a strong, resilient, young lady. She has done well on her own, has been able to find work and takes very good care of the things she has. This last year Barbara was diagnosed with breast cancer and had surgery to remove a lump. She struggled with depression during her recovery. She found herself behind with her bills and rent. Through all of this she never asked for money or shared anything with me about her financial needs. She only asked for prayer and friendship. By the time I knew she needed support she was overwhelmed. I immediately thought of Matthew 25:34-40:

“Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Of course I want to help my friend. She needs a community. She needs to be wrapped in love and generosity and supported all in the name of our King. I am asking my friends, family, and the body of Christ to prayerfully consider joining us in helping Barbara. We are in the process of helping her out of her current living situation and in to a new one and making sure she transitions debt free. Please pray for her health, safety, and spiritual growth. Pray for her favor at work. Pray for the ladies that are loving and caring for her. Pray for genuine, lifelong, friendships and support.

Jill

Join us in helping her financially. It will be a thousand or two or three. Share in the blessing. I won’t share your name with anyone. I can keep a secret. All of your blessing will come in Heaven! I won’t even thank you - just to be sure.

Pete

National Adoption Day

Yesterday as I was driving home from picking up my girls from school my five-year-old daughter, Jurnee, made eye contact with me in the rear view mirror. I smiled at her little brown face, with her two puffs of hair on top, each tied in big pink bows. She didn’t smile back. Instead she asked me an unexpected question, “Did my mother die?” I wasn’t sure how to answer. “What do you mean, JJ?” Again, “My Mom! Did she die?”

I knew she didn’t mean me, “No, Jurnee. Your mom didn’t die. But, umm, I don’t know what happened to her.”

I don’t know what happened to her mom. Jurnee was adopted three years ago this week. In our adoption agreement, her mother was given legal rights to have at least two visits a year. I felt very comfortable agreeing to that request. We had already met out in the community for “visits” several times the previous months. Once at a playground, another time at a museum, and Jurnee’s favorite, for donuts! Our visits had been fun. I took lots of pictures of Jurnee and her mom. I don’t think Jurnee actually remembers those visits but has those pictures. And she loves to look at them over and over.

After the adoption I never heard from her mother again. As I write that, my heart aches. It aches for Jurnee and that loss. Being adopted can cause some complicated emotional battles. She is loved. She knows that. She is wanted. She knows that too. Yet still, she yearns to know her “real mom.” She mourns that missing piece of herself. To be honest I do too. I wish we didn’t need adoption. But we do.

Tonight I sit here holding my beautiful, little boy. He is sleeping so peacefully in my arms. Tomorrow he will be adopted. He will get a new last name, the same as mine. I love him. I think I loved him from the moment I met him. But I can’t help but think of his other mom. The one who gave birth to him. I prayed for her, and Jurnee’s mom and Isaiah’s mom. I asked God to send someone to them that would lead them to Him. I asked Him to save them. I asked Him to heal their hearts and my children’s hearts also. “He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” Psalms‬ ‭147:3

National Adoption Day is happy and sad in so many ways. These beautiful little ones need adoption because of loss. My heart aches for them as they have to make sense of it all for the rest of their lives.

While our adoptions always follow loss and rarely avoid pain, adoption by our Heavenly Father is wonderful and perfect. There is no loss with Him. Only gain. Only good. Only love.

I am thankful for a God who cares. “A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains:” Psalms‬ ‭68:5

I am amazed by God’s goodness. He made a way for each and every one of us to be adopted! “But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, To redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons. And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father. Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ.” Galatians‬ ‭4:4-7‬ ‭ I love that verse so much. There is such hope in those words. He loves Jurnee, and Isaiah and Aaron and me and you!

We celebrate each adoption and we wrap our arms around them with the love of our Father as we nurture and guide them like we have been called to do.

"Make sure your hands have the same energy your mouth does.”

It’s been a while. We have a new baby in our home. He is 5 months old now and doing great. Thank you for visiting our website. We pray that you are challenged and encouraged to be exactly what our Lord wants you to be.

I have been thinking about maturity. I want to be a mature Christian not a foolish one. I have always thought I was the most mature. I thought I was the most mature 5-year-old. I thought I was the most mature 15-year-old. Name the age - I thought I was the most mature. I always had a little diversity in my life so I had to deal with enough grown up things to feel like I was more mature than the other kids who had little or none. Not only was I dealing with adult situations before I really should have been but I also started drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and chasing women at 11 or 12, “just like a grown man,” I’m sure I thought. I didn’t have to pay any bills or put food on the table but what’s more adult than coffee and cigarettes and women?

This is probably common to man - feeling the most mature in our own little worlds. It starts early. Most teenagers think their parents just don’t understand, right? They think they know better. (I have come to embrace that as a father. It means they are growing up and maturing. I just want them to be excellent decision makers.)

“Now as touching things offered unto idols, we know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth.” (1 Corinthians 8:1)

True maturity begins with a healthy conviction that knowledge and wisdom are not the same thing. Knowledge is not wisdom and knowledge alone certainly does not produce maturity. It starts there but knowledge alone simply puffs up – think arrogant fat head. I can memorize the entire Bible, recite the shorter catechism, read and respond to Calvin’s Institutes, consume a good book every week, even hang a degree on my wall, and still be an immature Christian. The most educated is not the most mature.

I believe with all my heart that if you get in the Word of God and allow the Holy Spirit to work, you will be transformed from the inside out. My convictions on that have not wavered.

“So then faith [cometh] by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” (Romans 10:17)

So why do we read and read and read and read and still not become doers of all of the Word? At best we are selective in our application. We talk about it and teach it but have no convicting passion to do anything with our own two hands. The key is in the doing. Maturity comes from the doing or the application of all of that great information I consume.

“And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; 6 And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; 7 And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. 8 For if these things be in you, and abound, they make [you that ye shall] neither [be] barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 But he that lacketh these things is blind, and cannot see afar off, and hath forgotten that he was purged from his old sins.” (2Peter 1:5-9)

The pinnacle of our maturation - loving the way our Lord commanded us to love. Sacrificing our lives for the sake of others. If maturity requires the people of God to get outside and do something then what exactly should I be doing? What does this love look like?

Jesus taught us to love our neighbors as ourselves. Someone asked Jesus to clarify exactly who our neighbors are that we should be loving. Jesus tells the story of three men who encountered a fourth man who was robbed and left for dead on the side of the road. The first guy passes on the other side of the road, doing nothing. The second guy does likewise. The third guy, “The Good Samaritan” actually does something to care for the poor guy. (Luke 10:25-37) Jesus was not only clarifying who our neighbors are (the whole wide world, not just our clique) but also what that love should look like (giving, compassionate, sacrificial, action). The mature Christian has compassion and meets the needs of the person regardless of how they ended up in the ditch or how reckless, ugly, or complicated it is for them. The immature Christian passes by on the other side. They may have head knowledge that meeting the need is biblical and brings glory to God but somehow have rationalized away any real conviction to do anything.

Once in a great while you will have a preacher or even a babbler like me come through exhorting the church to do things for others. Not the easy things we ought to do for real friendly people but a real charge to do something for people that have physical, emotional, and Spiritual needs, in need of active love from the hands of Jesus - out there in the world - outside the four walls of the church building. The church seems to be greatly challenged by this. We seem to be torn between evangelism and social/physical needs or preaching the gospel and demonstrating the gospel or using our words and using our hands. We’ve even decided that some are “called” to minister with their hands and some are “called” to minister with their mouths.

I’m frequently reminded in my thoughts of Mary & Martha in Luke 10.

“Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. 39 And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. 40 But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. 41 And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: 42 But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

This is often referred to when discussing what is most important in life – my relationship with Jesus, sitting at His feet or the physical work to be done? It can’t mean we don’t do any physical work does it? Who would get the work done when I spend all of my time at His feet? Does it mean there are those chosen to sit at His feet in prayer and devotions and then there are those other people chosen to do the work that needs to be done in order to provide the basic needs of the ones at His feet?

You may be thinking, “What do you know Pete? You think you are the most mature right now and everyone else is a boob?” Well... No... I don’t think so. Maybe. Most of the time I still feel like an immature 18-year-old in a 44-year-old sack wondering why anyone would listen to me. I don’t think I am crazy or self-righteous enough to think all of Christianity pivots on the convictions of Pete Farrell, but I do look at a church gone wild, addicted to comforts and entertainment, reproducing disciples that think maturity is sitting around most of their days drinking coffee (or microbrew) reading, praying and studying, and if you are not called to that then just make sure you sacrifice your time and energy entertaining each other. (For Jesus naturally.)

I spoke with a seminary leader recently about what he referred to as the tendency of senior pastors in America to model themselves after corporate CEO’s instead of Shepherds. He said, “We call that unbiblical.” He added, “We can’t even get these guys to do visitation.”

It seems simple to me. When I get to a passage of scripture that says something like, “support the weak” or “defend the poor”, I ask myself, “Should I be doing something? When do I do that? When is the last time I did that? Don’t worry about everyone else. What am I doing?” As a leader, and a teacher, I should be asking, “Where do I demonstrate this?” What better way to gain experience and wisdom then to do something for people who cannot pay you back? If I haven’t done anything I must be ignorant, lazy, or rebellious. How is the love of Christ that we speak of demonstrated to a lost world?

The Bible teaches us what we already know to be true – that loving those who love us is not divine. It is not a Supernatural love. The love that ought to be pouring out of us is one that loves our enemies. Crazy. (Luke 6:32-36)

As I write this, I read an email from a friend asking me to consider giving money to a family in financial need. I smiled and thought to myself, what are you going to do preacher boy? What are you going to do? Then I laughed out loud. Maniacal laugh.

Paul wrote letters to the church from jail. We don’t even want to give a man a drink of water in jail much less take spiritual advice or direction from them. The homeless, drug addicts, orphans, sick, demon possessed, weak, marginalized, oppressed – mature folks mix it up with those kind of people. Like Jesus did. The lepers, the adulterers, the poor, the weak, the hurting, the sick, the liars, the lunatics, the religious leaders. Immature leaders stay away from these messy people. We always say the right things we just have a hard time doing them.

I readily acknowledge that these are all symptoms of a lost and dying world and the solution is found in the redemptive power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We are not trying to fix people up absent the Gospel. We are demonstrating the Gospel by our love.

“I can’t help everyone. If I help them it will set a precedent.”

“Jesus said the poor will always be here.”

“I’m called to teach, not social causes.”

“Child sex trafficking is heinous but what can the church do, really?

“Homeless people choose to be homeless.”

“That’s what my taxes are for.”

“I can’t see any of these problems from my house. If they show up at church we’ll see what we can do.”

These don’t sound like statements made by mature Christians. We may not be able to help every opportunity but we ought not to dismiss them as beneath us.

I remember when we decided as a family to be a foster family as a full-time ministry. A loved one was disappointed and admonished me, “You can’t save the whole world.” They were right. We were not trying to save the whole world. We thought we were obeying the scriptures.

I heard of a pastor recently who is opening a Teen Challenge house. “Where will I get the time and energy Lord?” He has buried several young people recently and he feels like he has to do something. Amen. I don’t know much about Teen Challenge but I know they try to do something for young people that are in real trouble. I don’t know much about this pastor either but he’s doing something and his flock will follow.

I am so challenged and convicted. Based on what we do and where we spend our money, it would appear that most of Christianity disagrees with me about all of this. We could be led to believe that the church is limited in scope to teaching, encouraging, and entertaining one another. (I don’t think anyone would actually say that out loud. We are all more mature than that.) And it raises the question, in my mind at least, is any of this love even “required” of Christ followers? If our Lord is well pleased with my choice to do do little or nothing than why waste our time? It seems a little silly.

“I’ve done a lot of crying this month,” a foster mom told my wife. “The ministry is overwhelming.” The behavior of the kids and the other trials of the ministry had overwhelmed her and she was sad. Someone asked her, “Why do you keep doing this?” She had no immediate answer. As she drove home she thought, “Who else is going to do it?” And then she thought, “My children are better because they have had other kids to serve.” I think we are all better when we’ve had others to serve.

My Name in Lights

I wrestle with myself a lot. I wrestle mostly with my pride. The battle rages more often then I’d like to admit. My mind races with questions about my appearance and my motives. Am I doing this to be seen of men, to be praised of men? Do I want my name in lights?

What I am usually pretty decent at is keeping the arrogant self-righteous comments in my head. They don’t make it past the dirty thought stage. Some things slip out. I often wonder about my actions. Do they ooze meek, faithful, humility or do they scream, “Look at me pagan! You want a piece of me?”

“For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.” (Galatians 6:3)

I believe the Lord has blessed me with a bit of “walking circumspectly”. I can observe, put it through the meat grinder of analysis, and draw some pretty good conclusions for myself. I have a lot of “Note to Self:” moments. Note to Self: don’t ever, ever, ever, ever, ever do that. Or Note to Self: That is how we do it! Save that one for later. I’m going to use that! Motives and blind spots are harder to figure.

What are my blind spots? Am I as arrogant as that guy? Because that guy is full of himself and seemingly can’t help it. Do I look too big for my britches? Do any of us realize when we’re arrogant? Do you ever think, “Does he know what that sounds like to the rest of us?” We observe leaders who use words and phrases that say to everyone, “I am in charge. I am the decision maker. My opinions are the best.” Others, who out of one side of their mouth say, “I’m humble. I value your input.” Out of the other side you can see and hear how much they relish talking about how awesome they are, one-upping everyone, being in charge and powerful. Others are egomaniacs. Others are what I like to describe as “absolute in their opinions.”

I wish I was above all of this but I wrestle with it. How can I lead well and not act this way? How can I be a genuine servant leader who washes others feet - not a fake servant leader who only does the fun stuff and watches everyone else work or serve me? I want to be the guy who works with my mind, my words, and my hands. One who leads well, serves tables, visits the fatherless and widows in their afflictions, remodels the house, teaches, preaches, folds laundry, coaches men and women in their walk, cooks dinner, vacuums and mops all with my mind on the Gospel and the Gospel on my mind. How can I truly minimize “the arrogant misogynist” tendencies?

One of the realities of being me is that, for the most part, I get to do with my time exactly what I want to do. What I care about I get to. What I don’t care about I try to avoid. Although that may be true to some degree for everyone, I know that my wife does not realize the same freedom that I do. My pride may say, “those are the lives that we have chosen.” My humility may say, “how can we balance the scales of our marriage fairly and actively work toward that end every day?” The battle rages.

I said something recently in a discussion about roles and responsibilities and Jill taunted, “I think you might be a chauvinist.” I thought, “You know very little of chauvinism if you think I am a chauvinist.” Names and faces streamed through my mind of real chauvinists she could be married to or working with. I laughed right out loud. The “you don’t know what you are talking about” kind of laugh, that makes my wife want to take my eyes out with a rusty screwdriver.

I think about what gets me puffed up. What can cause me to get too high? Pride can be very dirty but all words of praise are not filthy or harmful. Sometimes a pat on the back can be used by our Lord in a very positive way. Encouraging words are like “cold waters to a thirsty soul” and “sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.” God can use those words of encouragement to get us out of pits, to motivate us to finish our course, to simply and beautifully be light of joy in dark depressing moments.

I remember when I first started teaching. It was something I consumed like cookie dough ice cream. I devoured cartons in one sitting. I knew I could study and prepare well. It would just flow but I was a novice. My inexperience was evident but so was my zeal. What boosted me was men’s words of encouragement. If no one had ever encouraged me I may have tried something else and my path may have been completely different. Those same encouraging words can also feed my pride. The battle rages!

I remember when my name appeared for the first time on the preaching schedule for our Men’s Prayer Meeting. I think it was late 2003. There was no warning and no one asked me if I wanted to. The leader had decided, Lord willing, I was ready. As I sat there in the last pew on the right side of the chapel, my whole body warmed and I had permagrin. Men gave me all kinds of encouraging words. I don’t remember exactly what I did as I left the chapel that night but I probably pumped my clenched fist confidently like Jordan after the game winning shot, whispering, “Yesssss! Like Marv Albert. Confidence and acceptance are so awesome. Even now, all these years later, I get an overwhelming jolt of awesome when my name appears on the schedule to preach. “They still love me!”

I remember one of the men’s conferences I preached at a long time ago. I think the title of the message was “Draw Nigh to God” but I remember very little from the message itself. Encouraging words from men followed. The only reason I remember this event is because there was a man there that was impacted by the message. He always thinks of me and even looks at me and smiles when we’re together and someone utters the words, “draw nigh to God...” because something I said that night had a good effect on him. On a Tuesday that knowledge is an encouraging thought. On a Wednesday it may fuel my pride.

Sometimes my head gets so big that our Lord needs to pop it. He has to remind me, that when the Spirit uses me - the Spirit brings the increase - not me. If I can stay balanced the Lord can truly use me. Otherwise you may be saying, “Remember Pete Farrell? He was on fire. Where did he go?” Or worse, “Look how far he fell.” My best friend is the only person who has ever told me how lame a message was or how inappropriate my conversation was, and boy can she burst my bubble! I say this out of a thankful heart. Without good critics, going unchecked in our journey, we can become entrenched in some of our worst traits. Sometimes I’m on top of the world after I get to preach and she’ll remind me that if anything good came from that message it was of Him and through Him and To Him. But the sweetest time for me is praying and fasting and repenting and studying and writing and then out comes the unction from on high. And if I’m right with God I don’t steal His glory.

“But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.” (James 4:6)

Sadly, it can get me at every turn. In our church we elect eight deacons to our 24 member board of deacons each year to serve three year terms. The man with the most votes is one of our three trustees. I was the trustee a few years ago. Then our constitution was changed. No longer was the trustee the one who received the most votes. The deacons would vote for one of the newly elected deacons to be trustee. The last time around for me I was not voted as the trustee by the deacons. I was disappointed. The hardest part for me was wrestling with why it disappointed me so much. It’s not like they voted for a slob. The other guy is a fantastic man. One of the best men you’ll ever meet - a genuine, mature, humble man of God. This is not a story of deserving or stolen elections :) This is a story of this poor man’s pride. Every once in a while, the thought comes to mind, “I should have been the trustee.” I want to slap myself. What is wrong with me? Why do I think this way? “We wrestle not against flesh and blood.”

“Pride [goeth] before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

Arrogant self-righteous prigs drive me crazy. I want to throat punch some people. I think, man, you did not get beat up as much as you should have as a young man. I bet you deserved it but mommy always came to your rescue - creating this priceless gem. But then I think, maybe I are one... I think more highly of myself than I should. In the same hour I can be the humblest man on the planet, sacrificing anything, as well as an arrogant self-righteous prig.

I remember reading through the Bible for the first time and discovering that pride is not so good. Saying things like, “I’m so proud of you!” is awkward. Why does God care so much about pride? Does God really care or am I wet behind the ears? We train our kids to do things for themselves. Then we try to train them to allow God to do it. They are not mutually exclusive. Figuring out how to allow God to be in control while not being a lazy slob is paramount to a fruitful life in Christ. His will be done. Not mine. I do what He wants. I do what he wills. What’s the difference between pride and raising our young men to be hard working (instead of lazy, fatalistic slobs), independent (instead of dependent on mommy), motivated (instead of blaming everyone else for everything)? I think it’s who gets the glory. Am I above God or is He my strength for everything?

I want my kids to work hard, get along with people, be top performers and be driven but I also want them to be the humblest people I know.

Our name in lights (or money) is what drives a lot of our passions and ingenuity and desire to grow. It’s not a terrible thing but it certainly can be. From starting a business to making your career to representing your family name to representing Christ - making sure that your name is a good name is a good thing but if my motivation is primarily my self-promotion it can be incredibly damaging to my walk with Christ.

Our Lord told us that our power and strength for good comes from Him: “I am the vine, ye [are] the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

Can we do something awesome for the Kingdom, turn the world around us upside down for Him, while avoiding the trappings of our pride? Time will tell.

“I don’t need my name in lights, I don’t need a starring role. Why gain the whole wide world, if I’m gon’ lose my soul?”

A Toast to You Son

One of my sons is getting married in a few days.  I have been daydreaming about making an awesome toast to honor him and his new bride. Then it hit me - I don’t even know if I will get that chance. I got this website - so why not here?

He was meek and easy. His heart for others is so good that it’s shocking. He has been a good boy since he was conceived. He did pout a little like his dad. 

Jill was wicked sick during her pregnancy with our third son. With a feeding tube and zero energy she was too weak to care for our three year old son so I had to sign him up for preschool/daycare.  I got him ready the first day and went to drop him off. He was so sad and lifeless as I attempted to leave him - I just couldn’t do it. He had this broken look of loss and sadness that crushed me. It felt like I would be damaging him for life.  It was terrible. Our neighbor had offered to watch him so I took him there.

I remember when the other team would score, he would collapse to his knees with his head buried in the grass disappointed and sad.  He had that same face of depression.  As his father, the coach, it wasn’t my favorite thing in the moment, as I had to go pull his lifeless body up off of the ground and say something that would not harm us all, but I have nothing but positive thoughts about these times. It was part of his meek and gentle personality, which marks him as one of the finest young men you will ever meet. That may sound like a very subjective father’s hyperbole but it’s no lie. His genuine kindness for others is quite unique. May it never go to his head. As I write this I can’t help but think - if it does go to his head he’s really not as awesome as he would seem. So, I doubt that will ever be his undoing.

I remember when his mother was upset about something and he kindly and gently corrected her and helped her understand that it was not Biblical nor Christlike. It was a sweet moment of awesome to see that maturity in our son.

I cherish the lessons I have learned from him and his brothers. I may have gleaned more from them then they have from me. 

The countless challenges and disruptions he and his brothers have not only tolerated but embraced over our years of foster and adoption demonstrate their character. He loves all of his brothers and sisters, regardless of who their biological parents are, and they all love him.

If I had the time, I would tell him a few things in front of everyone before the toast...

Stay away from smut and other intoxications. They keep us from being genuine.

Know what healthy is for you and never stray more than 2.5% in either direction.

Wash all your parts - every time.

Always be a gentleman.

Take care of your sweet mom as she grows old. She deserves far more than the daily hotdog and ice cream that I am hoping for.

Never let them know where your goat is tied.

Leaders may read and readers may lead but some readers should not be followed anywhere.

Responsibility without authority is brutal.

We are not grasshoppers.

It’s never, ever, ever ok to be a jerk. If and when you are a jerk - make it right, especially with your wife and children. 

Strive for “a spirit of excellence with a sense of urgency.”  Your brother coined that sweet phrase and I use it daily.

If you have any say in leadership teams - surround yourself with internally motivated folks. (Figuring out what that means is well worth your time.)

Some things are “about as worthless as boobs on a boar hog.”

Everything is either sacred or profane. Don’t try to refine things any further. 

We’re all one foolish decision away from failure. 

The best wisdom is gleaned from saints who have suffered.

Humility is paramount to everything God wants you to be - your relationship with Him and your relationships with everyone else. Don’t ever let your pride fool you.  You are not always right. When you are right be cool about it.  Bragging about yourself is “vinegar to the teeth” and “smoke to the eyes” just like being lazy.

God speaks to us through His word. “Faith cometh by hearing and hearing by the word of God.”  Take no shortcuts and make no excuses.

If you obey the Bible in everything, your marriage will be awesome for our Lord. You will be an awesome father. You will be an awesome minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Not in the likeness of man but after the similitude of Christ.

If you have to rationalize it - it’s probably no good.

Demonstrate the Gospel in everything. 

No matter what the world says, the government says, or the church says - caring for the marginalized, the oppressed, widows and orphans is more a revelation of your heart than almost any other practical evidence you can think of.  Selfless acts of love for those who cannot pay you back, cannot tithe, and cannot return the favor are indeed a measure of your unity with God.  Be holy. Be righteous. Be Love. Be like God. A huge part of being just like Him is being a doer not just a hearer. Don’t just know the word of God - fulfill the word of God. Don’t be like most of us around you who have no idea what selfless love really is. We tend to “help people” until even the thought of the pain or the disruption of our lives causes us to retreat back to comfortable.  Some of us are doing more than others but can you name anyone who actually sacrifices for others in a Christlike way?  Be that someone.  It is much easier to enjoy yourself comfortably but ask yourself, and more importantly ask God, “what should I be doing?”

It’s never our job to condemn anyone, ever. 

Don’t fall in to the trap of minimal service to look good. After the paid hours end - what are we doing?  Don’t read the Bible daily, study the Bible, and teach the Bible then freeze like a deer in headlights when work shows up.  Be a Biblicist. Don’t just spew truth to be seen of men. Don’t strive to be an effective teacher yet a hypocrite because we’re selfish with our personal time.  Strive to be a complete child of our Lord.

John “Don’t waste your life.” Piper used to drive me crazy. I hated his condescending attitude towards those not enlightened the same way he was enlightened. I’m not really sure if it was him that made me dislike him or all of his snotty wannabe fanboys. I stayed away from him. Then I learned of his heart for the marginalized, the oppressed, the poor, the widow, and something happened in me. I respect him. He is born again. He opened his home to minister to others. He is more than a hearer. More than a popular preacher. More than a front man. He actually practices what he preaches. Mark that son.

Be a watchman and don’t worship men even if you are following them as they follow Christ.  Remember, every profession has its thugs but we “never judge a worldview by its abusers.” Jesus is “the way, the truth, and the life” even if there are charlatans getting rich by receiving widows’ mites.

 “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;” (Ephesians 5:25)  This is not optional. Wives don’t like lukewarm any more than God does.

I like this passage of scripture. It may be my favorite. It helps me think circumspectly, gives me a charge and reminds me of why I do what I do: “But the end of all things is at hand: be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer. And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins. Use hospitality one to another without grudging. As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. If any man speak, let him speak as the oracles of God; if any man minister, let him do it as of the ability which God giveth: that God in all things may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom be praise and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.” (1 Peter 4:7-11)

Our relationship with Jesus Christ is more important than anything else.

Pray, pray, pray without ceasing!

I may never get the opportunity to toast you publicly so, as we hold our glasses up together, you are Peter and Jill Farrell’s boy, you are a child of our King. 

May your love for your bride be Christlike.  Cherish her.

May you always be humble.

May the fruit of the Spirit ooze out of you all of the time.

May you never be a jerk.

May you ever live with a spirit of excellence and a sense of urgency.

May you draw nigh to God every day. 

May you “love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength.”

May the rest of your book be written by the perfect will of our Lord. 

“The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.” (Numbers 6:24-26)

I’m working on a song to honor you like Adam Sandler’s “A song about Elmo.”  Your mother says others may not think it is as entertaining as you and I.  We’ll see.

In my Bible reading this morning I read one of my handwritten notes in the margin, “We need you Lord. Not worth moving if you are not leading.” Wait on the Lord son. 

Dad

Twilight Zone!

When I was a little girl, I loved to watch this strange show called The Twilight Zone. It was the 1980s revival of the old classic sci-fi series. Each episode told a tale or two, founded upon horror or suspense, often with a surprising twist at the end. When we feel like we’re caught between reality and some dream world. When we feel like everything around us is no longer normal. Today I find myself thinking, “I feel like I am in the twilight zone.” It seems like the world around me gets stranger and stranger week by week.

This week our US Senate voted on the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act. Basically, it would have required that "any health care practitioner present" when an abortion was performed but the baby has been born alive, “exercise the same degree of professional skill, care, and diligence to preserve the life and health of the child as a reasonably diligent and conscientious health care practitioner would render to any other child born alive at the same gestational age." It would also require practitioners make attempts to “ensure that the child born alive is immediately transported and admitted to a hospital." It was voted down. (See more here: Albert Mohler article)

I read a quote from New Hampshire’s Senator Jeanne Shaheen, “This bill is just another line of attack in the ongoing war on women’s health.” What? How in the world is giving a baby born alive medical care, an attack on women’s health?? Am I in the Twilight Zone? I am still waiting for the surprising twist.

Infanticide Definition: “the CRIME of killing a child within a year of birth. Causes of infanticide often involve extreme emotional disturbance; A person who kills an infant, especially their own child.”

I found that definition in the dictionary! The next step is changing our dictionaries to fit their agenda. You remember that from History class, right? The book burnings in Nazi Germany and in Austria in the 1930’s. The books targeted for burning were those viewed as being subversive or those that represented ideologies opposed to Nazism.

Today I felt very angry, and perplexed. What is going on?? Who voted for these people? How did we get here? This is insanity.

“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour:” (1 Peter 5:8)

Injustice moves me to anger and anger moves me to action. It motivates me to do something. I immediately started to pray, “Lord, please intervene.” I started to read Psalms 106.

“Praise ye the Lord. O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. Who can utter the mighty acts of the Lord? who can shew forth all his praise? Blessed are they that keep judgment, and he that doeth righteousness at all times. Remember me, O Lord, with the favour that thou bearest unto thy people: O visit me with thy salvation; That I may see the good of thy chosen, that I may rejoice in the gladness of thy nation, that I may glory with thine inheritance. We have sinned with our fathers, we have committed iniquity, we have done wickedly … But were mingled among the heathen, and learned their works. And they served their idols: which were a snare unto them. Yea, they sacrificed their sons and their daughters unto devils, And shed innocent blood, even the blood of their sons and of their daughters, whom they sacrificed unto the idols of Canaan: and the land was polluted with blood.” (Psalm 106:1-6,35-38)

My anger turned to sorrow. Can it get any worse? We as a nation are knowingly shedding innocent blood, our own sons and daughters! I wonder what it looked like in the days of Noah? What were the people doing the day the first rain drops fell? Or how about in Sodom? What were those people doing at the time fire started to fall from the sky? I am guessing they were doing just what they always did, living their lives without even a thought of the consequences.

“Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:19-20)

We don’t want it to be ever said of us that we were critical or complainers or whiners and we did nothing about it. We are starting a monthly prayer meeting at our house to pray specifically for the marginalized, the oppressed, the most vulnerable among us. What we schedule, we get to. If you feel equally motivated – join us or start your own in your home. Sometimes we feel like or say, “all we can do is pray.” The reality is, the greatest and best thing we can do is pray. We demonstrate the Gospel in this way. Interceding on behalf of all of our most vulnerable is one of the greatest commitments we can make. This often overlooked or minimized opportunity to lift our concerns to the throne of God really can make a difference in us and out there.

If you are in the Rochester area, please consider joining our prayer meeting. Contact us below for more info.

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)

Jill

“They are not laughing at you Jilly. They are laughing at me.”

I was recently scrolling through Facebook and a post caught my attention. A woman was asking/making a statement, “I just don’t understand why a baby just can’t be delivered to save a mother of whatever health issue a baby is causing to endanger her life. What is the point of killing the baby? The baby can still live and so can the mother.” As you can imagine, she received all kinds of responses. One comment stood out to me. It has since been removed, but the woman was defending the right to choose to kill a baby based on their known disabilities. Her reasoning came from her past experience with working in a “home” with these “disabled” individuals. In her opinion, their lives weren’t worth living. There were several people that shared her opinion. I wasn’t as surprised that she felt that way, (it seems like many people do) as I was that she admitted it in writing for all to read. Having a lack of compassion is one thing, promoting it is another. Had she been raised to believe that way? Was that type of thinking just a natural outcome from the lack of intentionally training her to be kind to all people?

I thought of my childhood and the perspective my experiences gave me. I am so thankful for my story. My mother was very compassionate. Her life was sometimes complicated but her strength came from her genuine concern and compassion for others. She loved big. She didn’t hesitate to correct me when I was being unkind or selfish. I still remember her saying, “If you don’t have enough for everyone, do not eat it in front of them!” “If you are not willing to share then don’t get that out!” “Always stand up to a bully even if you are the only one standing!” “Be kind.” I think of my little girls. Lord, help me to raise them to love like you love, to see people as you see them, to be compassionate.

“Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous:” (1 Peter 3:8 )

My mother’s younger sister had Down Syndrome. I don’t remember ever being curious or asking what that meant. She spoke a little different than the rest of us. She sometimes needed a wheelchair when she got tired. She walked slow and was a little wobbly on her feet. As a little girl I had no idea she was “disabled.” She was my family, my friend. I loved her and she loved me. She was 20 when I was born. My mother and her were only a few years apart, so she was like my second mother but also my peer. We grew up together.

When I was a little girl she still liked playing with dolls, board games and her swing set. So naturally we played together. She loved television. We watched Charlie’s Angels, Mork And Mindy, Three’s Company, oh and we loved The Love Boat! She loved Strawberry Quik and Sunkist pop and so did I. She did not love my curly hair. She always seemed to want to “fix” it. She would brush my hair until it looked like a frizzy, lion’s mane then proclaim, “That’s much better!” She would also give me my “adjustments.”

My Aunt went weekly to the chiropractor. My Grandmama believed that an “adjustment” was the answer to every ailment. Therefore, my Aunt Teresa went often and was basically an expert. If I had a problem she would say, “Jilly, lay down! You need an adjustment!” And if she said so, I listened! I do remember lying flat on my stomach, as she snapped and popped my neck, thinking, “I wonder if I should let her do this? She’s not REALLY a doctor.”

My mind is flooded with these good memories. Like her teaching my sisters and I to dance like the “Solid Gold dancers.” One time she got some Lottery scratch off tickets. She started yelling that she was a winner. No one really believed that she had won. We didn’t even know she knew how to play! She kept saying, “Thank you God. I am a winner!” “Girls, your aunt is good!” When we checked her ticket, she really had won! She insisted on taking the whole family out for dinner, and “I am paying!” She was a gift to my family, not a “disability.” She taught us all how to love unconditionally. We are each unique and that is what makes us beautiful. God doesn’t make mistakes. He is the Creator of all.

“For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.” (Psalms 139:13-16)

I believe those words! I want to raise my children to believe those words. I want to lead my children by my example. Be kind. Always be kind. It will make a difference. My mother worked at a residential home for the developmentally disabled. She loved her “guys.” I often stopped after school to talk to my mother at that home. My mother was a natural caregiver. Those guys were her friends. She was never uncomfortable around them, just like they were her family. I am so thankful for her example. Both of my sisters grew up to choose career paths in fields that support the developmentally disabled in their communities. I know it is because of our childhood, our mother and our family.

About 10 years ago I spent the summer with my sister. She lives in Kotzebue, Alaska, a village about 200 miles north of Nome. At the time she worked in a residential home similar to the one my mother worked at, only smaller. Every day I would walk to visit my sister at work. She is also a natural caregiver, very much like my mother. She loved her guys too! They were her family and her friends. I noticed something different in that Alaskan village. Everybody loved her guys. They were a vital part of their community. They weren’t considered different in a negative or uncomfortable way. They were family and accepted by all. I still remember going shopping with my sister and one of her friends, a big guy named James. He was greeted in that small-town store by every person he saw. He was LOVED by his community. James had a best buddy named Bert that lived in the same home. I can still see those two sitting on the couch watching tv like any ordinary best friends. Their home was peaceful and comforting. Their rooms were decorated with thoughtfulness and love, like any cherished child’s room would be. They were part of a family and a community and they knew it too! I learned a lot from that little Alaskan community.

One night my Aunt Teresa asked me to go to the movies with her. Just a girl’s night for the two of us. I will never forget that night as long as I live. We got ready together. She let me borrow her perfume. She loved her expensive perfume. I fixed her hair and even put some makeup on her. We were then dropped off at the movies, bought our own tickets, popcorn and drinks. Oh, how fun it was for her to be out without parents! We picked our seats, settled in and enjoyed that movie. I remember her laugh, her smiling. The movie had ended and we were trying to follow the crowd to the exit. People were pushing on us from all sides. It had been a sold-out movie. My aunt was a little uneasy on her feet. She was short with a big backside and carried that figure on tiny feet. As I tried to hold her hand to steady her, the crowd started to get pushier and somewhat irritated at her slow pace through the exit doors. All of a sudden, I felt a physical push, and an angry, “OH MY GOD, MOVE!!!” And then I heard laughing. I don’t know if it was my love for her, my fear she would fall, or just the shock that people could be so mean but I quickly turned around and started shouting at them, “Stop pushing her!! Back up!! What is wrong with you?!” To be honest I think my adrenaline took over and I don’t remember what else I shouted. What I do remember was my aunt’s reaction, “Jilly, Jilly! You look at me!! They are NOT laughing at YOU! They are laughing at ME!!” Those words will be forever burned in my mind. She knew. She had had a lifetime of encounters similar to that, being pushed around and being laughed at all because she was different, beautiful and valuable, but different. I changed that night. I silently made a promise to my beloved aunt that night, “I will always stand up for those who cannot defend themselves. I will not follow the crowd when the crowd is wrong!”

I remember the first time I read the Bible through from cover to cover. I made a list of the attributes of God and I started to fall in love with Him. He is love. He is the great judge. He is compassionate. He is a father to the fatherless. He is the defender of the weak. We as His people are supposed to look more like Him and less like the crowd around us. We are supposed to defend the weak, the fatherless and the widows.

“A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains.” (Psalms 68:5-6)

I want to encourage the mothers and fathers reading this. Parent with purpose. Train your children to be kind and compassionate. Look for opportunities to serve with them. Stand up for the weak when your children are watching and listening. Defend those who cannot defend themselves. Raise your children to positively impact their community and their sphere of influence. Don’t allow your children to be mean. Train them to be givers. My children know they are loved and cherished. They also know that because I love them, I will correct them. I sit here watching my little girls. They think they are their baby brother’s second mommies. They love him! I look at him and think of my dear aunt. Thank you, God! You are a good Father! You have given this priceless gift to my family. My girls WILL know to be kind to ALL people. They will see the beauty in your creation, every unique part.

“O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.” (Psalms 104:24)

Jilly

“I brought the shotgun!” (Happy Valentine's Day!)

Recently after doing something boneheaded, Jill told me, “I think you have always loved me just because it was the right thing to do.” I paused for a long moment, which is what I do when my wife is in distress. Sometimes I’m not exactly sure what to say. I am mature enough now to think on my responses. My wife will remember whatever is about to come out of my mouth for the rest of her life. My immediate response in my head was, “Of course, duty is part of love.”

A statement like that kick in the gut from your wife will make a man stop and think about some things, eh? What is reality for me? Not the picture I want everyone to have of me. Not the man I see when I avoid mirrors. Not even what I do to be sure I’m looking good. What is the truth deep down in the cockles of my heart? Am I truly, madly, passionately in love with my bride or am I simply doing the right thing because to do otherwise would be embarrassing? Do I love Jill or am I living out an obligation?

During the first few weeks of my college career I found out my girlfriend was pregnant (link). I do remember an overwhelming desire or obligation to get serious and do the right thing. I had to wake up and be responsible but what did I really know about truly loving someone at that time in my life? My life was consumed by seeking thrills. I used words to manipulate the world around me. I got serious about two things - getting straight A’s in college/getting a degree and being a family no matter what. I remember being asked, “Are you sure you want to buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?” I borrowed money for an engagement ring and asked Jill to marry me on Christmas day 1993. Jill was quite pregnant at the time. She said yes and we continued our journey. My first son was born in May and we got married in August of 1994. I loved her to my definition of love. I was definitely going to do the right thing.

A few months ago, Jill could finally put in to words why she does not like Marriage Conferences and asked me to never make her go to another one (unless I am teaching, of course :). Almost every speaker spends some time exploring, “Remember when you were first dating? When you were first married? Remember the romance? Remember how all you wanted to do was sweep her off her feet and do anything for her? Remember how you would make all of his favorite meals? Remember how totally awesome courting was and how awesome your wedding day was and how in love you were – and you demonstrated that love in countless actions? Remember your honeymoon?” This turns over some old soil for us.

When I sit through all of that I think things like, “To be young and not fat is so nice. Charity covers a multitude of sins! I am just thankful I survived and thankful for Jesus. Courting? I didn’t even know what that meant when I was kid. I didn’t ‘court’ anyone. I would have been laughed at and scorned if I had said, ‘Jill and I are courting now.’ (Especially after Jill was pregnant). Most of the details of our ‘courting’ are long forgotten unless someone mentions them to me.” Frankly, I just want to be awesome now.

Jill on the other hand is not as dismissive of the impact that time had on her life and our life together. It hurts. It hurts because, for her, there was no blissful time of romance. She married a broken buffoon. There was no awesome wedding. There was indeed a wedding but it was not awesome. It was a down pouring, hot, muggy, wreck your 80’s hair day, all day. It was a miserable day for her. I like to joke with people that a woman married us – so I’m not sure if it counts. My wife went home with our son without me from our wedding reception. I came home some time later. I really don’t remember it. As much as I really hate to admit this nasty fact (this is the first time I have ever told anyone ever) – that could easily be the description of our marriage until 2003 – Jill was home caring for the children and Peter comes home when he wants to. This was an incredibly painful time for Jill and the hurt comes back when circumstances open the wounds of yesteryear. As you can see the good old days were not so good for Jill. Being reminded of them is not the best of times either. Even with forgiveness it is very hard to forget. There has never been a honeymoon.

The Bible, in Proverbs 4:16 says, “For they sleep not, except they have done mischief…”. This was me. I had a very hard time pillowing my head without being a rascal – without doing something I ought not to be doing. I was by all accounts a happy rascal. I didn’t physically or verbally abuse anyone. I was having fun and hoping to survive. Jill loves her children. She made sure that our home was healthy for our children when I was unhealthy. I would make sure my home was “OK” then go do whatever I wanted. Then in 2003, after a series of fortunate events that Jill will share in some other blog post, I was led to finally understand what repentance meant. I understood at that time that Jesus died for me. I understood that He took the penalty of my sin. I understood that He would transform my life. And finally, after 28 years of life I understood that if I truly and genuinely turned from me to Him and humbled myself before him and asked Him to be my Lord and Savior – he would draw nigh to me and He would do what only He can do – give me new life in Him. From that point forward, I believe I have been born again and I also believe I have genuinely loved my wife. That love for her has continually improved and matured as my understanding of what it means has evolved.

“Therefore if any man [be] in Christ, [he is] a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Christianity is the only worldview that teaches a new birth - a transformed life - God himself changing you from the inside out. Not a superficial, whitewashing of the outside but a supernatural bolt of God quickening me from death to life. “I’m alive in Him!” The incredible transformation in my life proved this reality to me. I am a new man. When no one else is around. When I can do whatever I want to do and no one but God will know about it - I care about God. I care about what God wants me to do. The battle may rage at times as my enemies attack me but I know that I am never alone and Jesus is more powerful than my enemies.

The Bible says, “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; 26 That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, 27 That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. 28 So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself.” (Ephesians 5:25-28)

God wants me to love Jill with the same love, devotion, passion, and sacrifice that Jesus had for us when he sacrificed himself for us. Not only does He want me to love Jill this way but He empowers me to do it. God is making me a better husband. One day at a time. One correction at a time. One hard dose of His love at a time. If you’re a Christian then you know what that means. His love flowing through me to His daughter.

I believe that if you have been together any length of time you know exactly how your bride experiences or feels love. We know. We don’t need seminars and books. My wife wants to feel loved by the way I look at her – the way I hug her – the way I kiss her – the way I put her above the other people in my life – the way I speak to her - the way I make her feel secure – the way I clean the house – the way I wash, fold, and put away the laundry – the way I correct her - the way I shovel the driveway - the way I till the garden - the way I treat and train our little ones - the way I react to everything - the way I pray for her - the way I support her in her zeal for God – the way I listen to her – the way I cock my shotgun – the way I cherish her. Lukewarm behavior is gross with God and it’s gross with our wives.

After I got saved my eyes were no longer everywhere and anywhere they wanted to wander. My desire to see my wife fulfilled in mind, body, soul, and spirit were realities that I felt. These were no longer things that I had to do to keep peace in my home. They were part of my identity in Christ. They were part of my life in Christ. Our love and intimacy are beautiful. Our Lord is very interested in how we treat his daughters.

I continue to overcome all of the failures in my life, especially those in my marriage. Compassion has never been my strength. Over the years I have said and done some crazy things. I have scars to remind me of them. I did something to Jill once and she asked God to intervene and give me a glimpse of her pain. Later that night I woke up sicker than a dog rushing to the bathroom. Sitting in the bathroom I puked all over the floor and either passed out and hit my head on the iron steam radiator or fell and hit my head then passed out. Either way I blacked out for some time - finally coming out of it to Jill screaming for me to wake up. I was soaked in puke naked on the floor with a silver dollar sized slice of my forehead missing. I don’t even remember what I did or what I said to Jill that day but I can’t forget the fact that Jill was unloved in that moment. I have a mark.

“For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.” (Hebrews 12:6)

I remember an old preacher saying, “When I’m over the great white porcelain throne puking my guts out I beg God, ‘What did I do? Tell me so I can repent and stop this horrible pain.’” That car accident. That loss of job. That flu that has you feeling like death. That sickness that comes upon you. That major home repair or car repair or the dead washing machine. Have you ever stopped and cried out to God - is this a result of my sin towards you? Am I loving my wife like Christ loved the church and gave himself for it or am I being a selfish punk? Please show me. Please help me. Is it a coincidence or not?

When Jill gets depressed and is not feeling loved and goes as far as to say, “I think you have always loved me just because it was the right thing to do,” I can tell her with as much confidence and zeal that I have, “You are wrong my love. You are tremendously wrong my love. Doing what is right is still a healthy part of loving you but our Lord has made it much more than that. Not only am I physically attracted to you in every way but I am madly in love with your compassion, your cry for justice, your undying, unselfish, love and care for your children, the sound of your voice, your wonderful skin, your smell (warm vanilla sugar or not) and your patience with me. I love being with you. Our Lord has used you to mold me. We are cleaved because of Him. I want to cherish you with every part of my being. Your love is intoxicating.” Am I right guys?

Jill did not say this just to make a point or take a jab at me or manipulate me. She was feeling unloved in that moment. Because of headaches and pains and hormones and circumstances and ministry obligations, she was not having a good week. After 24 years of marriage I need to recognize much faster how to navigate this minefield and be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my bride is loved and feels loved.

When my father in law arrived in Indian Lake for our wedding – he entered the room and with a giant grin on his face said, “I brought the shotgun!” If Christ had not saved me - if I had not been born again - that would define my life and marriage: “shotgun”. Praise the Lord that is not what defines us. Will Jill’s pain go away? I’m not sure. But I am determined to drown it all out with my love.

For those husbands who haven’t been born again, God is calling you to him. He wants you to love like He loves. Wives of these dear men - I’m praying along with you that your husbands will come to repentance and faith. For those husbands who claim to be men of God but continue to fall in to sinful behavior and treat their wives poorly - there is Hope for you also. It may come in the form of a painful correction but it will come if you repent. Draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you. Victory is that close. For those who are doing well and not only know how to love their brides well but actually do it - for Pete’s sake disciple other men. Lord, please prepare us and open doors that we would be good stewards with what you have given us and teach others.

You may think loving your wife is really hard. Sometimes I suck my thumb and feel sorry for myself. I don’t know your situation but if an undisciplined, unloving, uncaring, selfish, broken, buffoon like me can grow then anyone can.

How? What’s the formula for loving my wife like Christ loved the church? It starts with humility. It starts with sacrifice. It starts looking in the mirror and asking God to do what only He can do. What are we afraid of men? An awesome Christ centered marriage filled with fireworks? Draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you. Pray through Psalm 51.

Practically - I can recommend one awesome piece of advice from our Lord that could help a lot - “contrariwise blessing” (1 Peter 3:8). Always respond with blessing no matter what.

And as always - Is my life reflecting scripture? The Bible is filled with wisdom regarding how we ought to love one another.

Peter

Son, I care most about your soul.

A few weeks ago I was in our kitchen grinding wheat berries for homemade bread, listening to some old music, “it may be the Devil or it may be the Lord, but you’re gonna have to serve somebody…” My son came in with a grin on his face, “Been talking to mom about tattoos...”

The day had finally arrived. One of my kids wants a tattoo and he’s old enough to get it. In my head the battle began to rage, “Why does he want a tattoo? I wish he would wait. Does God like us marking our bodies? ‘Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost.’ Seemingly everyone has a tattoo. Be different. Be rebellious by NOT getting a tattoo. One tattoo will lead to another and another. From one sleeve to another sleeve to a full eagle up your neck. Please avoid the neck and face man! Wait until you mature. Wisdom didn’t get me until I was 28. That’s about the time most men begin to wise up. Wait until you’re 28 son and be sure God is OK with it...”

All that came out was, “Oh yea?” He replied, “Yea, I’m thinking about a Bowie.”

“A Bowie? Like David Bowie?” I responded with a big smile, thinking, “This is going to be interesting. Why does my son like David Bowie? 18-year olds like David Bowie? David Bowie is a thing? I can’t remember any David Bowie songs.” He explained what it was and where it goes and why he wanted it.

My thoughts drifted back to memories of sitting out back on the covered patio with my grandfather, enjoying the Adirondack summer, swatting ants with a fly swatter as they crawled in and out of the cracks in the patio concrete. “You know, if you leave a dead ant lying there, other ants will come get it before morning?” Pa would look at my ankle where you can see the faded remnants of a tattoo that I got when I was a teenager, and ask, “Is that real?” I responded the same way every time, “No, it’s temporary.” He would just slowly nod his head in response. He could never understand why anyone would want to mark their body. It wasn’t because the Bible said anything about it. He didn’t know what the Bible said about it. He just thought it was a bad idea. I would smile thinking about a grown man putting one of those fake tattoos on his ankle. And then I would feel insecure and not masculine because real men have tattoos on their arms, around their muscles, not on their ankles. Real men have muscles. Real men have good posture. Real men do a lot of things awesome and I’m not awesome. I have a tattoo on my ankle and it’s a heart... Then I would jump up and play basketball or cut trees or shoot something to take away that awful feeling. I remember my grandfather didn’t like men wearing earrings much either. I remember talking about Michael Jordan. He’d shake his head and say, “What a great basketball player... but why does he have to wear those earrings?” Still makes me smile. He was never angry or negative about anything. It was always just matter of fact, calm and conversational.

I remember the weekend I got the silly tattoo. It was a tattoo party at a house in town. This lady setup shop in the living room and did tattoos for cash or pills. Who knows how clean the equipment was. The last guy probably had a little bit of everybody in him. Why did I get a tattoo that day? I really don’t remember. (I think it must have had something to do with Jill Petty.) It was an opportunity. One of countless opportunities I have had to make a decision in my life. To weigh the options, the pros and cons, and determine what I thought was best. Man have I made some terrible decisions in my life. If my grandfather had not thought tattoos were a bad idea – would I have gotten more?

I like to say, “I really don’t care where my kids end up going to church, who they end up marrying, where they end up going to school, living, or working. All I really care about is their relationship with God. Are they saved and living a life of repentance and faith? Then everything else will fall in to place according to the will of God in their lives.” I repeat this often, especially to parents, not only because I believe it but because it’s a message of hope. You can see the look of perspective fall all over their countenance. It’s as if I just made their day, “That is what I am going to pray for also.”

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.” (3 John 1:4)

I’m not at all saying we should let our kids do whatever they want because we did crazy stuff or everyone else is doing it or we want to be their bestest friend or it seems easier. I am not called to be their best friend and right is right and wrong is wrong. Setting the bar of expectations as high as you can get it, consistency, accountability, rebuke, correction, and integrity are paramount. I think we should all be sure we are loving our precious little ones’ souls. I ought to be prioritizing their souls above my reputation and selfish way of life. I don’t believe that our kids are “just gonna be who they are gonna be.” I don’t tell myself, “Do the best you can and hope for the best. They are gonna be who they are gonna be. Don’t beat yourself up man - none of these things are your fault.” If what I do while they are in my care has little impact on who they become as adults then why bother training them well? Why stress man? They’re little hoodlums because that’s what God wanted, right?

I wrestle with how to handle these things and then I second guess my words and my actions for days. I am going to stand before God one day soon and give an account for my life. I can be an idiot. I make mistakes. I can be selfish and insecure. I can be a hypocrite. I can be awesome and wise sometimes when the Lord gets ahold of me. My kids see all of it. The highs, the lows, the times of pure joy and the times I sulk, sucking my thumb, whining like a fool.

“But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.” (Matthew 12:36)

“For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things [done] in [his] body, according to that he hath done, whether [it be] good or bad.” (2 Corinthians 5:10)

I believe He will tell me then if how I handled these things with my children was best. I believe that I am a trainer not a forcer. God doesn’t force me to believe. I can’t force my children to believe. I am called to train them and train them well.

“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22;6)

“And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” (Ephesians 6:4)

If only I could instill the ability to be a critical thinker and wise decision maker in to all of my little ones before they leave my care. The pinnacle of great parenting. Allowing my children to find their way while I am there to help guide and cushion and the decisions are not life changing and harmful. My children need to witness me making good choices.

Another thing I say a lot is, “The book has yet to be completed for each of my kids.” This is a source of encouragement and caution. Caution for those who think their kids are all that, “practically perfect in every way”, right now. Encouragement for those who are burdened by the not so awesome situations they find their kids in, even eternal danger. A great man of God shared this with me back when I was a newborn Christian looking around at the well-behaved kids in the church. I remember saying, “They must be well-behaved because their parents are doing everything right.” This man cautioned me that they may or may not be doing everything right but don’t use how well-behaved their kids are doing now in public as the soul means to determine that. “The book has yet to be completed.” This simple reality has been used by our Lord in my life ever since. When we get proud of how well our little ones are doing spiritually, rejoice and remember, “The book is yet to be completed bro…”

I know men who have freaked out and done some crazy things when their kids made poor decisions. Some disowned their children. Some shamed them publicly. Some took away their car and kicked them out. Some said some really awful things that can never be blotted out. Others never put boundaries in place for their children and are largely responsible for some of the problems their kids have today. Some made the boundaries so tight that their adult children have no idea how to navigate. Some parents do a lot of crappy things and wonder why their kids are a little smutty.

I don’t want my kids to be exactly like me. I have to deal with a lot of crap in my heart, mind, and soul because of the many poor decisions I have made. I absolutely want them to avoid most of what has made me me. Sometimes I wish we were all walking together, arms locked, with the same purpose and passions. Sometimes I even get a little jealous thinking about those fathers who have sons that idolize them. Sons that do everything according to their father’s will. That look up at their father and think - my dad is an awesome man. Not a “not bad” dad but a father all young men deserve. “He’s not a dude… he is a man. a handsome, muscular man.”

You know, I can’t remember ever witnessing a good father train his son. It’s a strange thing to me. I can’t remember one time ever. If I have seen some great parenting - it did not burn itself anywhere in my brain. Every interaction I can remember were public interactions that were tempered. Some memories are pretty bad. One could say the fathers were being real jerks. I have many examples of what not to do. Role models for good parenting have been absent from my life. I must know good fathers – I just miss their awesome parenting moments because they are private things.

I witnessed a grandpa kneel down to speak to my sons once when they were little. He was a retired man who I worked with. He invited us fishing. I can remember most of the day. This manly man knelt down to help my sons as kindly as I have ever seen. He gently spoke to them as he trained them. I have been trying to find that beautiful love like a grandfather’s love ever since that day. Take the time to really observe a good grandpa and his little ones. I believe this is what our Lord’s love should look like flowing through us to our children. Why don’t fathers have this love more? It must be lack of wisdom. Lord, help us to get wisdom.

Maybe I should care more about tattoos and earrings and the such like. A thought that always swirls around my head is that a tattoo-less child in Hell may have avoided ink but is still separated from our Lord forever. Of course I want pure, innocent, holy, righteous, God fearing sons and daughters – from their first breath until their time on Earth is done – from the inside out. I have no desire to polish turds. I don’t believe this is a passive position to avoid conflict. I am striving for a parenting lifestyle that loves mercy, demonstrates grace and ultimately leads them to Christ. Sometimes we need to be incredibly transparent, direct, and stern, even meddling and controlling at times, but I think we need to be sure we’re playing those cards when danger is most imminent.

I was able to look my son in the eyes that day and, as lovingly as I know how say, “I want you to know that although I think you should wait a while to be sure you really want to mark your skin forever, what matters most is what God thinks. I want you to know that the most important thing to me is your soul. Your health and safety and spiritual growth matter to me. I pray that you would love the Lord with your whole heart, soul, mind, and strength. I care about all of the other things in your life but what matters most is our relationship with God. I care most about your soul.”

He nodded his head up and down, “Yea, and you can’t tattoo your soul, right?”

I smiled, “Yea. I guess not.” I suppose you can tattoo your soul in the spiritual sense. You can mark yourself forever by the decisions you make and Jesus can mark us forever with His promises but getting a physical tattoo will not separate my son from God in Hell. God ponders the heart. You can’t fool God. If we are most concerned about what’s inside then the outside will look like God wants it to look like.

Today it’s earrings and tattoos. Tomorrow it will be something else. As much as we want to get inside to make all of their decisions for them and wrestle their soul in to submission - they are writing their chapters of their life now. You and I have to keep our eyes upon Jesus and spend our time in our prayer closets begging God to send them preachers and to do what only He can do in the hearts of men.

“Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.” (Luke 15:10)

Peter

More from Peter

“Am I a Racist?” - a transparent look at a difficult conversation

My 18th Birthday

I remember the day well, September 13, 1993. It was my 18th birthday. I had just started college two weeks prior. I lived by myself in a beautiful, furnished, studio apartment in a bed and breakfast three miles from my school. I hadn’t been feeling well ever since I moved in. I would wake up throughout the night and run to the bathroom to throw up. I woke up every morning nauseous and it continued through my day. I had lost almost 10 pounds in the two weeks since school had started. Deep down I knew why. I was so afraid. I was ashamed. How would I tell my family? My boyfriend? My friends? I kind of wished I could just disappear, leaving behind a note saying that I loved them and would miss everyone but that I decided to go on an adventure and I wouldn’t be returning. That way I wouldn’t have to face everyone and deal with the consequences of my “mistake.”

I decided to drive up the road to CVS and buy a pregnancy test. Sitting on the floor of that tiny bathroom, on my 18th birthday, I saw the dark “+” immediately appear. Tears streamed down my face. What would I do now??? My mom had just spent all of her savings to get my piece of junk car to pass inspection. I had used my savings to put the security deposit down on my apartment and first three months’ rent. I had just figured out all my financial aid for school and had used my scholarship money to buy all of my books. Besides the few hundred dollars I had hid in my drawer, I was broke. I was hoping and planning to get a local waitressing job as soon as possible. Again, what would I do now? My options were pretty bleak. My Mom had had a very rough five years. Our stepfather had a stroke and had been in a coma ever since. She had been working fulltime, raising my sisters and I as a single parent and driving back and forth the almost 80 minute drive to the nursing home he was at for five years. In that same time, she had been injured at work and had become addicted to pain and sleeping medications. I really had no desire to add to her burdens.

In the weeks and months that followed my 18th birthday the word “abortion,” was mentioned to me many times, by family, by friends, and by EVERY doctor I saw! “You are young, you have the world ahead of you, you can always try again when you’re older and ready.” Even at 18, abortion seemed wrong to me. It was ending a life. Regardless of the reasons why, it was ending a life. I found myself feeling unsure, maybe they’re right? I have absolutely nothing to offer this baby. Was I putting an unnecessary burden on this child by allowing him to be born? Abortion would be the easiest option. I had quit school, moved back in with my mom and had gotten a job at the little store in my hometown. Daily I had to see people. My growing belly was like living with a scarlet “A” on my forehead. I tried to work past the shame and embarrassment and find joy in my situation, but it was hard.

One day when I got home from work I opened my bedroom door to find the baby’s crib all decorated with the most adorable crib set. My oldest sister had saved up to buy it and surprise me. It was light blue with stars, moons and little bunnies. She even put up matching wall decorations and a matching mobile. She may not know this, but that day was a turning point for me. It gave me hope! It encouraged me that he WOULD be loved and cared for. That little act of kindness and support was powerful.

The passing of New York’s Reproductive Health Act has literally made me ill. How can such a thing happen in 2019 in the United States of America? How can we as a Country fall so far backwards? I remember learning in U.S. History class about the Civil Rights Movements. Two separate decade-long movements of passing and enforcing laws to ensure equal rights to African Americans. We were taught about our country’s dark past of ignorance, intolerance and lack of understanding the value of life and that all lives are created equal. We were taught that the U.S. was a work in progress, learning from history and moving forward. There were several Civil Rights Acts of the late 1800’s. You remember the Civil Rights Act of 1866, it abolished slavery! It would then be 82 years before another Civil Rights Act would be signed, the Civil Rights Act 1957. Followed by the Civil Rights Act of 1960, 1964, 1968, and again in 1991. In 1990 the Americans with Disabilities Act was signed, “The ADA is the most sweeping disability rights legislation in history.” Can you imagine that we would have to sign into law a civil right stating you cannot discriminate based on a person’s skin tone or based on their disabilities? I am thankful we did or else my youngest son’s future would look much different.

Many of the articles I have read that try and justify the need for late term abortion point out that it would most likely be used to terminate a child with known disabilities. What? I thought we worked on that ignorance in 1990 with the Americans Disabilities Act!

I think about the day my first son was born. My doctor sitting in front of me telling me he was so sorry he hadn’t noticed it on the ultrasounds. Doctors and nurses in and out of my room, so many words muffled in my ears, “emergency, live, 10% chance, feeding tube, bloodwork, cleft palate, cleft lip, rare syndrome, surgery, survival, normal, medical transport, plastic surgeon, expectancy… Jill, do you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying?” I didn’t really. I just kept thinking don’t cry, smile or else they are going to think you are too young or not capable of caring for your baby. If I had been pregnant with him in 2019 there is a good chance the doctor would have notice his defects in the ultrasounds. I fear as a young, scared, uncertain, teen mom they would have suggested abortion as the wisest and best option. And if it were 2019, in New York State and they noticed it in my 36th week ultrasound, abortion would still be an acceptable option. This new law completely disregards a baby with disabilities as having any value. The only value given comes in how the baby’s mother feels about that baby. Does she say he has value?

Do you see the problem here? For the last 150 years we as a country have been working to rid our society of ignorance. We have attempted to move closer to being a society that lives according to our foundational truths. “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed, that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

New York, you have lost your mind. My oldest son’s life had and still has value not because I say so but because God says so. My youngest son has Down Syndrome and regardless of what Governor Cuomo and the New York Senate think, his life has value. Again, not because I say so but because God says so.

This isn’t about women’s rights. It is about human rights!

“For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.” (Psalms 139:13-14)

I want to encourage my friends and family to continue to stand up for these children – in and out of the womb. Find a way to make a difference and stay committed. We cannot allow this to be normalized. Our children need to be taught and raised to know better. I am absolutely for women’s rights. I am a woman and I am raising two daughters. Their lives are full of choices. They are being raised to be critical thinkers. The choice of who’s life is valuable and who’s is not, is NOT one of their choices. A critical thinker can figure that one out without a doubt.

I used to think about what it must have been like to be a voice for equal rights in the late 1800’s when slavery was being abolished. Would I have been brave enough to be one of the change agents or would I have just gone along with the ignorance of society? Would I have opened my home and family to those that were just freed? What if I was a student or parent during the 1950’s? Would I have stood up for what was right? Would I have had the courage to say, “You have lost your minds! All children are equal! All of their lives are of great value! Of course they can ALL go to the same schools and drink from the same drinking fountains!”

I believe we as a nation are standing in the face of an evil injustice. We as Christians cannot stand by, stay silent, and do nothing. Did you happen to see Oprah Winfrey’s “Shout Your Abortion,” magazine feature from last spring? She is taking her stand! As are many others like her. I want to stand up and “Shout my Adoption!!” Yes, it was a commitment and a family sacrifice but our children are worth it!

Body of Christ, let’s do something together. We have to start with fervent prayer. We need God! Have you ever thought, what if those babies hadn’t been aborted? Just in New York State that is around 85,000 or more babies a year. If they were allowed to live, what would happen to them? Who would care for them? Would their mother get the support she needs to do it? Would they be put up for adoption? Would there be enough people willing to adopt them all? I don’t have the answers. I don’t see a solution without God’s Intervention. He is the answer.

As for me and my family we will serve the Lord! Whoever He puts in our path, by God’s grace, we will love, give of our resources, our home, our time, our money, whatever is needed, one person at a time. We will pray to the Holy One, the One who created us all. We want to encourage you to join us.

“And of some have compassion, making a difference: And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.” (Jude 1:22-23)

“Have ye not known? have ye not heard? hath it not been told you from the beginning? have ye not understood from the foundations of the earth? To whom then will ye liken me, or shall I be equal? saith the Holy One. Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in power; not one faileth.” (Isaiah 40:21, 25-26)

Jill

Am I a Racist?

There have been a lot of conversations this past week about racism in the media as Martin Luther King Jr. is remembered and celebrated. He said, “But I'm here to say to you this morning that some things are right and some things are wrong. Eternally so, absolutely so. It's wrong to hate. It always has been wrong and it always will be wrong.” Hating someone because of the color of their skin or their ancestry seems so bizarre in 2019 but I think it’s important to look in the mirror and evaluate the thoughts and intents of our hearts. What do I know about racism?

Growing up in a small town in the Adirondack Mountains (my favorite place on Earth BTW) – I didn’t really understand it. It didn’t really affect my life. There weren’t very many folks with different skin colors. I ran in to a few bigots but most of them were from out of town. I remember one woman calling black people the N word. I remember her saying, “I have more respect for her for marrying a white man. I can understand that. Marrying up. I have no respect for him marrying a black woman. White trash.” That’ll take you by surprise, eh? Did she really just say that out loud? I think that woman was a racist.

Then I got to college. That was a little different. There were a lot of students from downstate and they were all different colors. I got to be good friends, and then roommates with, a kid from Brooklyn. They called him Shaq but he reminded me of Magic Johnson and he was Dominican.

He was funny, full of life, and boy could he ball. He was quick, unselfish, and he could dunk on anyone. That’s why they nicknamed him Shaq. I admired some killer fakes he had perfected. He would put the ball between his legs then fake up. It worked every time. Made guys look silly as he scored. I ran with him quite a bit until I got fat. He listened to Wu Tang Clan, Biggie, Janet Jackson, I think the Beastie Boys (although I seem to remember mostly white suburban guys blasting that), and some classic rock. I remember asking him, “you listen to classic rock?” He just laughed at me, “What?” One day we were talking about TV shows. He loved The Jeffersons. But he also loved The Honeymooners, Knight Rider, and the Dukes of Hazard. I remember just blurting out in laughter, “You liked The Dukes of Hazard? How does that happen? There is even a rebel flag on the car...” I’ll never forget his response, “What are you talking about bro? Everyone was jumping over the front of cars and in through the windows in Brooklyn. We all wanted to be Bo and Luke Duke!!! And Daisy Duke bro. Daisy Duke...” I still smile thinking of it. I think he knew every episode of the Honeymooners. I had never heard of the Honeymooners. He would laugh and laugh.

He also bowed his head and asked God to bless his food every time we sat down to eat. His mom had made sure of that. And he put jelly on everything - things that ought not to have jelly on them. I learned a lot about folks with different skin colors, from him and many others since. I also learn a lot about myself.

I remember teachers and professors with an evolutionary world view essentially explaining Darwin’s theory - “On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life”. I remember thinking, does everyone realize what this means? Maybe I can make sense of all of this - if I were smarter and more scholarly. It kinda made sense if you’re looking for an intellectual justification or at least a rationalization of racism or trying to eliminate God.

I remember my buddy Montana - a big old brown man. When someone would refer to him as black he would grab the skin on his arm and ask, “Does this look black to you? This is brown! This is brown.” We talked doctrine, ministry, and evangelism. I would bust his chops a lot and he would always open his Bible and admonish me, “See here in Ephesians 5 - the Lord does not want us jesting!” He walked most everywhere unless he could catch a ride with someone. He always prayed fervently that the Lord would take out the porn shops and strip clubs that he had to walk by around town. One night we learned that one of them had burned to the ground. I couldn’t help but wonder, seriously, if Montana had a hand in it - but he swore he was somewhere else.

Back in the day when we were going to change the world we had a teenage girl that lived with us. I’m pretty much sure that she hated most white people. I think she may have been a little bit racist. She called us, “you people” refusing to use our names. She was born in to an environment that trained her this way. As you can imagine we didn’t have the best relationship with her. She especially disliked my white wife. My white wife was an idiot.

I remember walking in to the barber shop in the city to get my son’s hair cut. It was a tad bit freaky for me. I felt like they were all looking at me funny. Not smile funny or crazy funny – more like what on earth are you doing here funny. They didn’t say a word to me for a very long time. I finally spoke up softly, “Uh… can you make my son look good please.” I remember that visit started freaky and it ended freaky and I was happy that it was over. Was the uncomfortable interaction because of our different skin tones or was it just because I “wasn’t from around there?” Maybe a little bit of both. I’m not sure.

I remember walking in to another barber shop some time later when my son desperately needed a haircut. This time it started freaky but ended nice. They all looked at me funny at first but after a few seconds I heard a jolly, “Big Pete Farrell!” boom out of the corner chair. Once my eyes adjusted to the lighting I could see it was one of the guys I played basketball with in men’s league. He is one of the friendliest people I know. He embraced me and everyone seemed cool after that. “Come back – aw’ight?” Aw’ight, you bet. You see how simply being friendly can be so awesome?

I remember taking one of my kids in foster care to state prison to see his father. Now that was a bit freaky. His father did not like white people. And he especially loathed the fact that his son’s caseworker was white and his son was living with white people. This father loved his son and his son loved him back. They had a great visit. I was a little afraid to be locked behind multiple sets of bars with them. This dad was a very big man and he talked real fast with a peering look in his eye - daring me to say something stupid. He could have popped my head like pimple. I don’t remember saying anything other than, “Yes sir.” I think he may have liked me.

I went without my family to a city rec. center for a Christmas celebration last month. I was invited to check out what was going on and begin to pray about how we can get involved with what they are doing. I sat at one of the tables with a group of young kids. They were telling each other jokes about me and laughing and pointing at me for a little while. Then I shared a picture of my family with them on my phone. They were direct, “Those black kids yours?” “You adopt them?” After that their faces seemed to soften for the rest of the night. They had a lot of fun telling me they were going to blow me out in basketball. I assured them that they would not score - at all. I think we were cool by the end of the night.

We have noticed over the years that if I’m out with my kids, without my wife, women always seem to greet me with a warm smile. On the other hand, when my wife is out she gets some of the ugliest looks from the same women. Good times.

I have been influenced by writers like Thomas Sowell, Walter E. Williams, Larry Elder, and others over the years but it’s impossible for me to have firsthand knowledge or understanding of what it’s like to be a black man in America. To know that a few years ago my family was enslaved by your family. I’ve never dealt with segregation and the challenges that our institutions and policies have created for black men. I have been trying to understand the reasons for and the impact of affirmative action and other policies related to race. I find my opinion is usually based on the leanings of the last person I read. I’ve been a minority in Japan but that is nowhere close to the same thing. Although I was treated differently and some older WWII men scowled and spit at me and called me “Gaijin”, I don’t recall ever feeling freaked out about anything. AFAIK, white folks were not slaves in the south of Japan.

We are all shaped and formed by these experiences. We’re not born bigots but we are born with the potential. Racism and bigotry are symptomatic issues. They are symptoms of our worldview. Even this morning someone mentioned their time living in the midwest, “The KKK was huge there.” But Truth changes a man. You begin to realize that one’s dislike, mistrust, or hatred for people based on the color of their skin or their ancestry is stupid and harmful. A mental disorder. You realize that a worldview shaped and born out of evolution – that time plus matter plus chance produced all we know - strips all of us of our intrinsic value given to each of us by God - and it fuels racism in everyone.

I like to think that I am colorblind when it comes to the human race. I also like to think that my children have been inoculated from racism and racist thoughts, intentions, and actions but we’ll have to wait and see. All of my children are who they are in part because of their biological parents and the genetic design that they have inherited but none of them are inferior or superior to anyone based on the color of their skin or their parents, regardless of their worldview.

Pride and ignorance make us feel superior but Truth changes a man. One man at a time.

The Bible says in Genesis 1:27 that we are created in the image of God: “So God created man in his [own] image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.”

One of the most beautiful truths in the universe is the fact that “God is no respecter of persons” (Acts 10:34). My relationship with God does not depend on my wealth, my ancestry, where I was born, or the color of my skin. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16). The genuine love of God sacrifices and gives regardless of all of the things that separate us from one another.

Most of us are freaked out in uncomfortable situations or unknowns until truth enters. It’s important to have open, honest, conversations with people, discussing our relationships and the policies and issues of our day, but it’s more important to examine myself – to look in the mirror and ask direct questions. Am I a racist? Am I a bigot? How can I improve myself and influence the world around me for the better? Hatred is never OK.

I like to think that I am colorblind like Jesus but I think that I would have to be quite literally blind and have my memory wiped clean to not generalize about all people groups. Even then - after enough time passes I’ll probably begin to generalize again...

The only thing that I am sure of is that the closer I get to Jesus, the more I surrender to the Holy Spirit, the more genuine, sacrificial, love, care, justice, and compassion will ooze out of me towards everyone. I will not have to try harder to be colorblind – I will supernaturally, awesomely, love everyone.

Skin tone is part of who we are but our identity and intrinsic worth is in Christ. Even if you reject Him - He loves you and seeks you. The Truth will soften the hardest of men. Bigots or not.

Peter

Be a Light in Darkness

I am a resident of New York State. I moved to a small town in the center of the Adirondack Park when I was eight. My husband and I then moved to Western NY at age 20 to go to college. We have lived here since.

Over the years I have asked the question, “Why did we choose to stay in New York?” Peter’s answer, “I am a New Yorker. I was born here. The Adirondack Park (Indian Lake) is my favorite place on earth.” He does love our hometown. If he could get an engineering job in Indian Lake, NY, we would probably live there.

I agree the Adirondack Mountains are beautiful. My family and I also love camping on the shores of Lake Ontario every summer. Western New York has four seasons, or as someone recently joked with me, three and a half, and I do like having seasons. I like my house and I love my church. But that is where my list of pros ends. To be honest, I don’t like New York. Our taxes are crazy high! My son has to attend a terrible public high school. It is definitely not worth the school taxes. I determined many years ago to make the best of this place we call home. Until God opens another door, this is where He has me.

For the last few weeks I have seen many social media post and advertisements about an upcoming abortion expansion bill being voted on in the New York State Legislature. It is called The Reproductive Health Act. Over the last several weeks I have read many heated arguments typed in the “comments,” of those post. One thing is for sure, it is a bill that people for and against are passionate about. Yesterday during the day, I watched the live stream from Albany. I saw men and women proudly wearing their hot pink scarves, ties and pins in favor of and in celebration of the bill they knew was about to be passed into law. I also listened as members spoke briefly as they publicly voted for or against the bill. I heard a few statements that hit my core. “This is and will be the most important piece of legislation we will ever sign. This is for our daughter’s and their daughter’s. This is a historic event.” Last night, 46 years to the day after the U.S. Supreme Court handed down its Roe v. Wade decision, the New York Senate passed the Reproductive Health Act in a vote of 38-24. I woke up this morning to pictures of New York Governor Cuomo sitting at a table, signing the bill into law, smiles on the faces of all those around him.

What exactly does the passing of this bill mean? Well I have done a little research, but I am no expert. So, in addition to abortion being permitted up to 24 weeks the “expansion,” now allows:

“The legislation provides a further exception to permit abortion at any point during pregnancy if a health-care practitioner deems it necessary for the mother’s life or health — the exception that was defined in Roe companion case Doe v. Bolton as “all factors — physical, emotional, psychological, familial, and the woman’s age — relevant to the wellbeing of the patient.” In other words, abortion will be available to women essentially on demand up to the point of birth. The RHA will also decriminalize abortion, moving it from the state’s criminal code to the public-health code.”

I wish I hadn’t researched this. I wish I didn’t know. I wish I could just go on living my live as if this wasn’t a real thing, like this doesn’t and isn’t going to happen in New York or anywhere else for that matter.

I do know. This is real. So, what do I do? As a child of God, what do I do? For starters I look to God. He says, “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14 )

Today I pray. I ask Him for forgiveness and wisdom. What can I as one person do in this devastating situation?

Back in August, our littlest guy’s birth parents came to court. In front of a judge and room full of strangers, they signed over their parental rights to him forever! This is our family’s second time experiencing this. It was so emotional. My husband and I had tears streaming down our faces as his parents were asked pointed questions from the judge if they understood what they were doing? We watched these parents with tears streaming down their faces and heads hung low, nod and answer, “yes.” This was NOT a day of celebration for them or us! It was sad. It was a picture of our broken and fallen world. Definitely not something we wanted to celebrate.

I can’t get those smiling faces and hot pink scarves out of my mind. This is a broken and fallen world. And I do not like it. Regardless of what side you are on, I don’t see how any of what happened yesterday, in the signing of that bill, would cause joy and celebration. This is all around devastating! I don’t ever want a mother to have to be in a position that they feel this is their only or best option. Just because this is legal doesn’t mean it has to be a mother’s only option. We have to step it up as a society. We have to do more to prove this isn’t their only option. That means YOU and ME! By supporting those mothers, we will be supporting those babies!! I am talking to the body of Christ! We know better!! It is one thing to say you believe in something and a completely different thing to actually do something about it!!! We need to step out of our comfortable, busy, lukewarm lives and practice what we say we believe! DO SOMETHING!! Invest in the lives of those that are most vulnerable. Pray! Give! Make a difference in the life of one child, one woman, one mother. Invest in and mentor a young man that will one day be a father. I personally believe we as Christians are part of the problem. For the most part we disagree in words but do little to prove our beliefs through our actions.

“What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him? If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.” (James 2:14-17)

Please, I want to encourage the body of Christ, my church family, my friends, to do something. This morning I find myself really wishing I didn’t live in New York State. I find myself really wishing that our world wasn’t so broken. But mostly, I wish that I could see those around me making a difference. Caring. Being Jesus to those who hurt. Being a light on this very dark day in New York State – one beautiful child of God at a time.

Jill

"Abundantly above all that we ask or think"

A few days after my husband and I had returned home from our trip to Haiti I received a phone call from Monroe County Homefinding. “The Homefinding team just met in regards to finding an adoptive home for a 6 month old baby boy. He is the baby boy with Down Syndrome that you showed an interest in last fall. Do you remember him? Are you still interested?”

Yes, I remembered.

For some reason, since I had gotten home, I couldn’t stop thinking of him. My mind raced back to that little town in Haiti. We were driving with our team to visit another small church/school to check on the progress of their recently built bread oven. As we headed up the bumpy road I stared out the truck window. There were so many children. “Lord, how do I make a difference when there are so many children?” The team members that were riding in the back of the truck were throwing handfuls of lollipops to the kids as we drove along the road. Kids with bare feet and ragged clothes would come running from the bushes, laughing and shouting as they dove to the ground to grab them. I continued to talk to God, “Please show me how I can make a difference when I am one person and there are so many needs.” As I continued to pray with my eyes open, I noticed a little boy sitting all by himself on the side of the road. He was clean and he was wearing nice clothes. He looked very well cared for. I immediately noticed he had Down Syndrome. I yelled, “Stop! I just saw a little boy back there sitting all by himself. He looks like he has Down Syndrome.” How did he survive? Here? How did he get to a hospital for care?” “Please, I want to go back and check on him.” We really couldn’t just turn around. Even if we could, what did I think I could do? I couldn’t get that little, brown face out of my mind.

I told Homefinding, “Yes, I remember him. I would need to talk to my husband and my children, but yes, I am interested. I will call you back as soon as I do.”

I mentioned the phone call that night to my husband. No response. I mentioned it to him again the next day. No response. I know he had heard me. The third day I decided it might be less awkward if I sent him the question in the form of a text. It went something like this, “Hey, I don’t want to pressure you. I know this is a little bit scary but I really need to know what you are thinking? If you say no, I won’t be upset. I do understand. We are getting old. I am already tired a lot and get stressed more often then I use to. Taking in a baby in our 40’s is a huge responsibility. Adopting a baby with Down Syndrome is, well, probably a commitment until we die. So, I don’t want to do anything unless you are sure too. But can you just let me know what you’re thinking? I told the County I would call them back soon.” No response. Several days went by. I continued to pray. Still no response. I decided to send him a list of several “pros and cons.” No response. I prayed some more, “Lord, what would you have us to do? I want to say YES to you. Please, tell Peter what you want. Whatever his decision is I will follow.”

The next week Peter sent me a random text. “I think it is a wonderful idea.”

Hmm? What is a wonderful idea, I thought? The baby?

He sent another text, “Those pros and cons have always been part of the ministry, right? I think it's wonderful. I think we should do it. If we really cannot handle it we know ourselves well enough to seek guidance for what is best for everyone.” I called the County. “Yes! We have decided to add baby ______ to our family. My husband and children say, yes!”

As I drove alone in my van to meet the baby I was nervous, really nervous, but as I pulled into his current foster family’s driveway a peace came over me. The women who had been caring for him met me at the door with a smile, “You are going to love him!”

It was true. As I held him in my arms for the first time, I was overwhelmed with love for him. Thank you, Lord. He had taken my reluctant but willing heart to serve Him and had already blessed me a hundredfold!

As I drove home from that first meeting I thought about that little boy sitting on the side of the road in Haiti. I thought of my prayer that day, “Please show me how I can make a difference when I am one person and there are so many needs.”

He is God. I am not. I don’t always understand His ways, but I do trust His word. I believe I should do something, even if it is just one small act at a time. He is able to use that act of faith and obedience for His glory!

I sit here almost a year later and I am in awe of God’s goodness to my family and our little boy. I often think of that little boy I saw in Haiti and I am thankful for that experience. I love Psalms 84:10-12: “For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee.”

“Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,” Ephesians 3:20

“Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy.” Psalms 82:3

“A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. God setteth the solitary in families:” Psalms 68:5

“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.” Matthew 25:35-36

“Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.” Jeremiah 1:5

Jill

On a Hill, On Top of a Mountain

I love to read books! If time and responsibilities weren’t an issue, I could easily spend the whole day in bed reading.

I enjoy a story that starts in the present time and slowly works its way forward filling me in on the details of the past. That is how I would like to start. I would like to tell our story by starting with the present, today.

Today I attended my youngest son’s Service Plan Review. We are in the process of adopting him out of Foster Care. Every six months we meet to review his progress and goals. I sat around a table with seven Early Intervention professionals and therapists. We started the meeting by introducing ourselves by name and sharing what was our role in his life. “My name is Jill Farrell, and I am his foster mom.” That was easy enough. The next step was to give a brief review of how he is doing as far as progress and goals from our perspective and unique role. This time around I didn’t do as well. I started out okay, but quickly found my emotions getting the best of me. And of course, the tears. He has been sick and has not been eating well. When he doesn’t feel well his progress is slow. So, at that table, in front of these ladies, I cried, I shared my disappointment and my fears. I quickly found my myself stuttering trying to apologize for being so emotional. “It’s just that he had been doing so well and now this setback. Another setback.” His kind and encouraging physical therapist reassured me, “It is okay to be emotional. He is your son…”

He is my son. My baby boy. Oh, how I love him! He is sweet and gentle. His smile lights up a room. His giggle is contagious. He is adored by his sisters. He causes his big brothers to smile each and every time they see him! His Dad is his best friend. I find them snuggled together, hanging out every night.

The Early Intervention team is right. This setback, is only a setback, not his whole story. He has had setbacks before only to amaze us with progress the very next week. His little life has been bombarded with setbacks but it has NOT stopped him. His name means; Exalted, strong. Lofty, high mountain.

I start to remember how far we have come in the last year. The Lord has been leading, guiding, and protecting us every step of the way and He will not stop now. The Lord was pursuing me, leading me and guiding me when I didn’t even know it. He was and has and is preparing me for every mountain, every setback, every victory. When I am weak, He is strong. When I forget, He is faithful. This baby boy was a gift from God when I wasn’t even watching for His goodness. It was on the way up a mountain in Haiti that He started to whisper His plan to me.

I would like to share a journal entry with you from that trip…

I have been home in Rochester, NY for one day. I look out my bedroom window and everything is covered in a blanket of white. This place I call “home,” is so different, in every way, from the place I just left behind.

My mind is filled with thoughts of Haiti; the people, the sights, the smells. After just having spent seven days there, I can no longer see things here in my home the same as I previously had. This is going to be a struggle for me.

Why do I have so much? Why did I not notice it before? I sit here and ponder the word abundance. Webster’s dictionary says the definition is: an ample quantity, affluence, wealth, plentifulness. I look around my home, filled with stuff, and my heart aches. It is clear to me that my abundant life, with my busy schedules and all I have, has been a distraction to me. Somewhere along my journey of living life I lost my path. I am not even sure when or how it happened. Here I stand so far from where I want to be or where I thought I was. I am flooded with unexpected emotions, like thankfulness and relief. What if I had continued my life headed in the wrong direction? A burst of joy, true joy starts to bubble up from deep inside. And once again I am in awe. And once again I owe it all to Jesus, the one who loves me and pursues me, even when I have lost my way.

For about the last 12 months I have struggled with fatigue. I have had days that I just could not find the energy to complete my daily task. Although I have always loved naps, this new level of exhaustion was not normal. I became a mom at the age of 18 and for the last 24 years I have had a child in diapers! Energy is a necessity. Certain I had an unknown medical problem, I scheduled an appointment for a checkup and blood work. The results; low vitamin D, low iron. There was no serious medical problem. Was it possible I was just tired?

I started to make a list in my head of all of my daily responsibilities. I started to list all the things I do for others, serving at church, serving my family, even trying to serve my community. I found myself feeling overwhelmed and discouraged. How did I get here? And what if I can’t or don’t want to continue fulfilling these commitments?

I think this is where I started to wander off the path. I took my eyes off Jesus. I became discontent. I lost track of who and why I serve? Just as Galatians 6:9 warns against, I had become weary in well doing. I was just busy being busy.

A few weeks before we were scheduled to leave for Haiti I found myself bogged down with a seemingly endless list of responsibilities and commitments. As I tried to explain to my husband my fear of these impossible tasks, I started to feel as if I couldn’t breathe. At first it was just a pain in my chest. I began to panic. I quickly found myself on the floor gasping for air. Praying to my Heavenly Father, I begged him to help me. Not just at this desperate moment, but in this entire situation. I prayed for strength to complete what needed to be done. I prayed for wisdom to know the difference between what He would have me to do and what I felt needed to be done; His will verses my own will.

The weeks following I pushed forward. I felt as if I was in a daily race, rushing from commitment to commitment, basically, my normal. Thankfully, the day before our trip I found myself with some unexpected quiet time. I began to read in Matthew 5, “...Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” Nothing I had been doing had been good, nor would it glorify my Father. The more I thought about it, the more I knew it hadn’t been good in a long time. At that moment I began to weep. “Lord, forgive me! Use this trip to change me. Renew a right spirit in me. Help me to see through your eyes. Help me to love like you love. Please, give me the energy and passion to finish my race strong. I want to bring you glory with my life.”

He answered.

As we drove up the dirt road, I saw beautiful, little, brown faces smiling back at me. I found myself overwhelmed with love for them. We were headed up a rugged, winding, mountain side road. The higher we went, the more emotional I felt. My husband and I were traveling in a truck driven by the founders of Elevating Christian Ministries, James and his wife Sarah. During our travel time together, they had been sharing their testimony of how God had pursued them even when they had lost their focus on Him. They shared their God story. I listened intently as they told of the circumstances that brought them to Haiti, and how they had just decided to say, “Yes,” to God and trust in Him. Recently they had built a church at the top of this mountain. We were headed to check on the progress of some new school benches being built, offer help with those benches and play with the school children that lived there. I was amazed as we reached the little church; on a hill, on top of a mountain! It was a beautiful sight. As we climbed the trail to the church, we saw child after child come out of the bushes to greet us. We received friendly smiles from every person we encountered. We did not speak the same language, but I felt as if I could communicate with them through our eyes and smiles. I fought to hold back my tears as I quickly saw how poor this little community was. Their need was so great and their position on this mountain made their situation seem impossible to improve, hopeless. Even if they had the money or resources, how would they ever get it up this mountain? Yet, here stood a wonderful, cement and brick building, being used as a school and a church! Right next to the building there was also a bread oven, where these children were given nourishing bread every day. Their basic needs were being met and God was being given all the glory. I was reminded of the song, Reckless Love by Cory Asbury. The words of this song played in my head as I soaked in everything around me.

“Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me
You have been so, so good to me
Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me
You have been so, so kind to me”
“O, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
O, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
O, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah”
“There's no shadow You won't light up
Mountain You won't climb up
Coming after me”

Our good God had led us to climb this mountain to show His love to these people. He had been pursuing James and Sarah when they least expected it. He then put a desire in their hearts to partner with these Haitian people to build a church in the most difficult place! It was a life changing day for me. As I stood in the open field, behind the church, on top of the hill, I watch this amazing God story unfolding before my eyes. And He whispered the words of Psalms 139 to me. Our loving God, who knows us and pursues us despite of who we are, can take our brokenness and turn it into His glory! So here we were at the top of this mountain, having the privilege and great honor of being the representatives of God our Father. For this brief moment in our lives we had the amazing opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ to these children. It was NO burden! It was a glorious occasion! Our team was showing His love! A bunch of the guys were playing soccer. Others in our team were painting nails, painting faces, hugging children, holding little hands, passing out lollipop treats and glow rings; all in the name of Jesus.

I had been joined by a little group of only 8 children. We began to play with a rainbow parachute. As we marched around in circles, singing, I began to thank God for using me in His story. Wow! I get to be part of His story! So, there we were marching and laughing together. We would raise the parachute above our heads and then duck under to hide in our little, rainbow tent. While we hid in our tent I would break off little pieces of snacks that I had in my bag and pass them to my 8 friends. They would giggle with joy and then we would stand up and march again, raising our parachute, and then returning to our little “hiding place,” tent. Each time I was able to share something else, my mints, then my water, and each time they laughed with smiles as big as their faces, I would tell them why I was there, “Jezi renmen ou!” Jesus loves you! That was the first Creole phrase we were taught. We had been repeating it several times a day as we traveled through the Country. For the first time during my trip I really believed it! Those words had power. Despite the poverty, the hardships, and the list of impossibles, Jesus does love you!!! His life was living proof. He knows poverty. He knows about hardships. He knows all too well about the seemingly impossible. He lived it here on earth too! But then He rose again to give us hope! This life on earth is not the end of the story. It is just part of it!

So I stand here, back at home, surrounded by my family and responsibilities, but now I am filled with joy. Joy, because my Heavenly Father continues to pursue me, continues to mold me, and continues to give me the great honor of being part of His plan. He does love me! And I am thankful that He didn’t leave me when I had lost my way. I am relieved to know that He doesn’t just pursue me but He also pursues those that I love, the ones that may have lost their way, the one still searching for Him and the ones that aren’t even searching. Today I am filled with hope. I am excited to move forward. I am encouraged. I see my path and I head towards Jesus. I want to focus on Him. I am sure the day will come that I will find myself discouraged, maybe off the path again. My God is so so kind to me, He is the faithful one. He found me in that field, on that hill, on top of a mountain, in the country of Haiti. And He reminded who I serve and why I serve Him!

1 Corinthians 15:58
“Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”

Jill