(R) Adam Davidson

It’s been a good year — here are some retrospective and random top 5 lists.

Top 5 Reads:

• East of Eden by John Steinbeck. 600 pages but never a slog. Some say Grapes of Wrath is Steinbeck’s top work, but I put it at a strong second. Eden follows two families through multiple generations, with each character becoming something over time. It’s a fantastic study in how people change and grow over time in the best and worst of times that every one of us experience: the tension between good and evil, self confidence and self doubt, how the actions of others affect us and how we can control only our response. The literary analysts call it a modern Cain and Abel story — not a stretch, as it makes direct references to the infamous brothers in the book of Genesis. East of Eden tells a true-to-life story of the wonderful and terrible gift of free will (timshel: thou mayest). It was my primary summer fiction read that was hard to put down. I found myself underlining phrases and interactions that perfectly illustrate the human condition. Sometimes leaders don’t see the value of reading something that won’t sharpen their skills, which I understand. However… if you work with people and are coming to terms with your own growth, there’s nothing like having a detailed look at humanity told by a gifted storyteller.
• The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. This true account tells the story of Walls escaping the poverty and dysfunction of her family by developing personal self reliance out of necessity. Even after she’s “made it” and manages to change the trajectory of her life for the better, it’s obvious that there’s much left yet to process. On one hand, it pulls at your heart because the stories of her struggle seem impossibly treacherous, yet, her fight to not become a victim of her circumstances is heroic and inspiring. It is a story of how our character is shaped by an environment that seems prescriptive and deterministic, yet doesn’t mean every decision about our own future is sealed. Like Eden, Walls own life is a stark reminder that family units are comprised of individuals that, in the end, have to make their own choices on how they live.
• The Burnout Society/The Spirit of Hope/The Disappearance of Rituals by Byung-Chul Han. Korean born Han has such a love for German Philosophy that he took up residence in Germany to study the works of Heidegger, Hegel, and the like. I’m listing three of his short books here as I was on a Han kick for much of the year and plan on reading more. His work in Burnout helped me understand the use of technology and the performative pressure of social media as a source of our overall anxiety and malaise. Hope was a helpful resource for a big workshop I did this summer where I talked about, among other things, the difference between hope and optimism. Han’s book on Rituals helped put handles on the positive effect of structured practices both personal and communal. Some classify Byung-Chul as a Catholic theologian, though he pulls from Plato and Eastern mysticism as well as the philosophers mentioned above. Herein lies an example of how all truth is God’s Truth, and that it’s possible to learn from a person without subscribing to their every belief or tenant. That reading brought me back to studying anxiety, thus my reading of…
• The Christian and Anxiety by Hans Urs von Balthasar. Multiple studies indicate that our culture is experiencing a significant uptick in anxiety. Balthasar writes about the concept of Anxiety (harkening back to Kierkegaard’s extensive work on the subject) and how the Christian is actually not set free from anxiety but instead experiences a transformation of anxiety. Our primary source of anxiety, Balthasar would say, is sourced from our broken relationship with God. Out of that, all other anxieties flow. However, there are many places in scripture where anxiety still shows up. The Psalmist is panicked because He doesn’t sense God’s presence. Jesus talks about judgement and accountability at the end of our days. Paul et al give regular warning about continuing to sin and the risk of falling away. In other words, it’s not that we have nothing to worry about. Rather, we have a new concern — am I holding on to Christ? Am I obedient? Am I walking upright? These are positive anxieties, the kind that keep us on the right path because we realize what’s at stake. Of course, I’m radically simplifying a complex work, but I found it helpful in understanding that it’s not an erasure of anxiety but an exchange for the right kind. Thought provoking.
• City of God by Augustine of Hippo. As I was reading other works — James K.A. Smith, Aquinas, G. Campbell Morgan, C.S. Lewis and more — I continually encountered references to this ancient work. It seemed right to go back to the source, or, in my case, to go to the source for the first time. Aug illustrates the difference between the two kingdoms on earth that we inhabit: the earthly city and the heavenly city. When we identify as citizens of the earthly city, we are lovers of ourselves and our own good, which always leads to self-destruction. Conversely, when we become citizens of the City of God, our love becomes ordered and our modus operandi radically shifts. Just as Plato is the father of western philosophy, Augustine is the father of western theology. Every theological work owes at least one of its sentences to this Church Father. I was just telling a friend of mine that City of God has a similar density to the scripture, though certainly not inspired in the same way or on equal footing. In fact, it was while I was meditating on Psalm 46 that the scales finally tipped and I felt compelled to dig in (“There is a river whose streams make glad the City of God…”)

Top 5 Lessons About Nutrition

• We don’t drink enough water. Ours is a dehydrated nation. What I didn’t learn and apply well until this past year was the need for sodium with water. Salt is the magical element, beyond the H2O, that makes water most effective. You’ve probably seen all the talk about electrolytes. Sodium and Chloride are most essential for homeostasis, cellular communication, muscle function, and the ability to hold on to the right amount of hydration. It’s not just water: it’s salt, too.
• Counting calories is important, but counting macro nutrients is essential. For years, I’ve counted calories, aiming for a deficit — and that’s it. I understand now that our bodies need certain kinds of calories as fuel. Muscle is built by protein. Carbohydrates gives energy. Fat helps in maintaining energy and absorbing vitamins — and keeping us protected. I pay much more attention to protein and carb intake than I did a year ago. My goal is 300g of protein and 150g of carbs right now, though that will shift as I hit certain goals. Lots more to learn there.
• Fasting is good but very very very difficult to carry out. There’s a difference in motivation between a spiritual fast and a physical fast. So many benefits, but for different reasons. Either way, the longest I’ve ever fasted is 3 days, which is like getting 14th place in dodgeball. Whatever weight I lost came back real quick, but the level of clarity and energy that I experienced was surprising. Intermittent fasting for nutritional reasons is very beneficial. Spiritual fasting — be it from food or something else — is its own category.
• The way I’m wired includes a strong connection between spiritual discipline and nutritional discipline. Developing the power to say no to junk food had a direct and positive affect to self-control in soul issues. I already kind of knew that, but 2025 was a big year for learning/remembering again that we are body and soul. Psalm 84: My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.
• The easiest way to prepare steak (I eat a LOT) is, believe it or not, the air fryer. Shocked at how delicious, quick, and convenient this method is. I have a grill that I was using daily at the beginning of summer that went ignored from early August on.

Top 5 Prayer/Formation Lessons

• Special Recollection… Francisco De Osuna and others write about this practice of prayer that, in essence, puts ones mind in neutral as they lift their heart to the Lord. I like to put words to everything, draw diagrams and figure out how to teach what I’m learning… which means that my prayer life can be dominated by rational inquiry rather than mysterious conversation. As a practice, I spend 10 minutes each morning before the Lord, humbly confessing my need for him — without many more words than that. I’ve come to understand that the Holy Spirit prays and works in ways that our spirits understand but our minds can’t. It’s difficult to explain, but the effect shows itself in how, during prayer, I’ll shed tears for reasons my mind doesn’t comprehend.
• Don’t Rush… I used to go for meditating on five Psalms and one Proverb each day as the foundation of my devotional time. But really… how can one meditate on six chapters in one sitting without glossing? This has been a big change for me. Now I slowly… very slowly… work through maybe one Psalm a day. I follow rabbit trails to other passages of OT and NT and see how they coalesce. I try to memorize one particular passage of a Psalm that I sense the Lord wants knocking around in my heart for the day.
• Daily Office… I’ve found that my spiritual passion tends to fall off as the day goes on. Why? Mostly because I start the morning off in prayer — sometimes 60+ minutes (I’m not boasting; this is how long it takes to get my heart and mind right because I’m a mess, bro). Yet, once I leave my Garage Abbey, I go about the day on autopilot. I now schedule times throughout the day for structured prayer, practicing elements of the Daily Office which re-ground me from the rising of the sun to the place where it sets. I’m about 15% successful at this. Still growing.
• It was revealed to me by the Lord that I spend a LOT of time praying for myself and my own stuff and very little time praying for others. I’ve been learning about intercession, moving deeper into praying for others as the Spirit leads. This is another example of how a person can know something cognitively and yet totally miss the mark when it comes to actual heart application. Lots of learning there. Humbling.
• I am praying for some kind of community that I can practice these things with. I have brothers in Christ that pray for me, that know most of what I’m dealing with, but there’s still too much isolation on my part. True discipleship can’t happen without community. I trust that this coming year will include some kind of venue where I can regularly work through these things.

Top 5 Cultural Impacts & How We Lead

• Church — the body of Christ and how an organization functions — needs to change. The ministry structures of the past 20 years is passing away as God does new things that are difficult to forecast. I come across a large amount of studies, articles, and posts about how the attractional model of doing church simply doesn’t have the same panache it did. Practically speaking, this means being ready to pivot to new motivators for gathering. Worship, encouragement, challenge, and community are taking center stage again as people are burned out from church as we’ve known it in the Evangelical world. Fallen leaders, broken systems that uphold abuse and dysfunction are coming to light, and the world notices. People — including disappointed Christians — are looking for something real and paradoxically challenging rather than affirming. We still trend toward the gospel as a medicine for what ails people (which is good) but often come at it from a self-help perspective that includes 3-5 action steps. This is modernity and purpose-driven strategy that no longer rings true to people who are unwilling to see sin and evil as the basic problem. Seeker sensitivity has its place, but there’s nothing like a Pauline butt-kicking like we see in Galatians, and there’s no better remedy for understanding our suffering like the book of Philippians. Be ready for more of this in the coming year.
• Connection — the social media pendulum is swinging hard toward people going cold online. Jonathan Haidt’s book The Anxious Generation gives some stellar data on why. Gen Z is coming to the conclusion that constant online interaction and endless scrolling is doing a doomsday number on our collective mental health. The stats don’t lie and people are realizing how negative our online connections have become. More and more of the emerging generation are calling it quits and looking for real connection. I was reading about an AI startup that’s helping facilitate authentic human connection over shared interests with real people in actual physical places. Our 17 year old just got a smartphone and I’m curious to see how he immerses himself (or doesn’t) online. This need for real human interaction puts the church in a position to be the third space it’s always been meant to be.
• Unpredictable Economy — we are strongly overdue for a recession, not that I want one. However, the cyclical nature of commerce calls for a correction from time to time throughout history. Economists call our current situation K shaped, where the wealthy are becoming wealthier as the majority of the world is under increased financial pressure. Housing and overall economic health is becoming harder and harder to establish as the cost of consumer goods have skyrocketed. Credit card debt is off the charts, the average car payment is over $700, and few people are able to save for their future. At some point, the market will shift, but everybody’s unclear as to when that will happen. Mark my words: when it does, it’ll be a hard correction that will make 2008’s recession look like a light sneeze compared to the flu that’s gonna hit.
• Generational Wealth and Transfer of Ownership — as boomers age out, billions of dollars will continue to change hands to the next generation. What’s chilling is the realization that foreseeable generations won’t have nearly the same stability and giving capacity. This will have a dismal effect on churches and community non-profits that have relied almost exclusively on key donors who are simply dying off. This will lead to social instability as organizations will be forced to operate with less cash and, as noted above, continued skyrocketing costs. If you’re under 40, this is a time to be really wise in how you’re investing and in developing a heart of generosity, as the needs of the world will only increase. My college buds and I have been taking about how the “old people” we looked to for stability is now, frighteningly, us. Lord, have mercy.
• The Coming AI Revolution — I’m convinced that our world has no idea what’s about to happen to it as we are only a few years away from the AI revolution. Experts share growing concern with how quickly Chat GPT and AI agents are infiltrating every part of our lives. Every other advance in industry and technology has been an isolated tool; AI is intelligence writ large that will impact all that we know. The best part? Technological, biomedical, and new ways of functioning. The worst part? Nobody knows what will happen, nor do we have a leash on this technology being hatched. There are implicit dangers with AI, just as there was with fire and electricity. All technological benefits bring an accompanying cost. But how best to describe AI? Think of it as our last invention ever. From here on out, everything from science to warfare, government to the church, will be developed with the help of AI… for better or worse. You and I will remember these days before AI, just as some of us are old enough to remember the days before the iPhone. Think about the degree of change that technology brought to us, then multiply it by a billion… that’s the impact of AI. 2026 will be quite a year. Get ready to see the masses start to push back. Prepare for politicians to make AI the centerpiece of their campaigns, especially as the US is in a race with China to see who wins. This race won’t end with a trophy but with the power to command the world economy and military strength. I use AI for certain strategic things, but I loathe the AI slop that has the same patter in written communication. Therefore, you’ll never read something here that I ran through AI.

There we have it. My random top 5. Thanks for reading. Howzabot you?

I turned 46 in the most festive way by blowing out candles jammed into a pumpkin pie — the official cake of November. Brittany easily found all the birthday candles in our cupboard and lit a fire hot enough to toast marshmallows and make s’mores — the official sandwich of November.

Strangely warmed pumpkin pie was one of the last things that happened on my 46th birthday.

The first thing that happened was me waking up. Of course, that’s something I’ve done just about every day of my life (indeed there were a few adolescent hibernation stretches during High School where I slept through an entire Thursday.) Practically speaking, I’ve woken from sleep every day. However, Monday was the first day I woke up as a 46 year old. That’s something new.

After the morning ceremonials, I was off to prayer in my garage abbey, which makes my lawn chair and retired dining room table pushed against scooters and flanked by toolboxes sound like something it’s not. The place of prayer is… the place where you pray. It needs not be fancier than that. I was still waking up, not just in my body but in my heart, soul, and mind.

As I prayed, I thanked God for the 45th year and asked for certain graces and mercies for year 46 — an increased awareness of His presence, a love that loves Him for who He is and not what He can do, and for me to be anxious about the right things — not the obstacles of life but the obstacle of self that limits reception of unfailing love. I spent time in Psalm 84, which I think will be my jam for year 46 because it expresses the Psalmist’s desire to be in God’s presence, whether the temple or the pilgrimage, going from strength to strength, and trusting Him for the results.

At Central, our team has been working on big picture stuff for the new year. A five hour online meeting may not be the place one would expect God to move, but He surely did. We were mysteriously unified around a common idea that will help build structure for the church in 2026 and beyond. A blessing. An awakening.

Brittany and Cam showed up at my office with my liquid love language: decaf coffee, Coke Zero, and a few dozen birthday donuts for my co-laborers in Christ. People did that thing where they cut a donut in half, eat it, and then come back after a few minutes and eat the other half. This is a ritual that every office worker knows.

Once I got home, it was time to feast. We chose Texas Roadhouse because 1) steak and 2) rolls with cinnamon-infused butter. As long as a restaurant has Chicken Nuggets, French Fries, and Sprite, Cam will happily dine. The servers shouted across the restaurant that it was my birthday, and I’m sure several people were possibly interested. Mostly my family. The leader of the singing server crew, the guy wearing the cowboy hat and has a God-given megaphone for a voice, asked me my age in front of everyone.

“Rude,” I said. Just kidding.

I said “I’m 67.” I did this precisely for my son who, like the rest of the enlightened world, has been taken captive by a random number sequence like we haven’t seen since The Macarena. Not only does 6-seeeveeen it ruin the joke — why was six afraid of seven — it also ruins basketball scores, math classes, and economically-minded thermostat settings.

Anyway, the crew at the restaurant didn’t smile at my audacious claim of being 67 years old, and that stung a bit. One must remember that, to the young, anything over 40 is roughly 70.

But I wouldn’t let a number ruin my birthday. I embraced it. Well, Cam embraced it. Brittany un-embraced it and told the servers I was actually 46, which is surprisingly close enough to 67 that they would have believed either age. “Yee haw!,” they said, and I agreed. It’s good to be alive. Even better than that bloomin’ onion thing they have there.

We got home and I opened wonderful gifts from my family — the people who are the real gift. However, after eating all that steak and onion blossom and rolls and complimentary ice cream (Yee Haw) I wasn’t really prepared — gastrointestinally speaking — to eat pie.

I’ve counted this as a birthday week. Not because I think I deserve that level of celebration but because Facebook kept telling me about your kind birthday wishes over the last few days. Thank you all very much. So, although the great Pumpkin Fire of 2025 was the last thing that happened on my 46th birthday on Monday, it has been a week of being thankful that I’ve made it this far and thankful for you.

As for the pie, it’s long gone now. Been a good week.

I’ve always been fascinated by conducting. Shaping the sound of a choir and orchestra through non-verbal hand waving is an odd thing for a talker like me. Watching the great ones — Sir Simon Rattle, Gustavo Dudamel, the great Leonard Bernstein, and Frederick Fennell — inspires me. In fact, one of my favorite YouTube videos is Fennell rehearsing Lincolnshire Posy with the US Navy Band. It’s over two hours long and not one second is boring (to me). These are fairly well known names in the music world. Many conductors have been inspired by their work, myself included.

There’s one conductor you may not be familiar with that I want to tell you about: Paul Black. I first saw Paul conduct a church choir and orchestra at the wee age of 15 and was inspired. He was different. Didn’t follow the rules. Moved like a happy maniac. Even with his back turned to me and the rest of the audience, what I saw — and, more importantly, what I heard — grabbed hold of me. I was more than inspired. I was awed.

How did Paul do that and what can I learn from it?

So, like a wierdo, I called him at his church office and started asking questions. I told him that I was going to school to learn music ministry and wanted whatever it was that he had. Paul was gracious and started teaching me. Through the years, as I led church choirs, orchestras, and rock bands, he was my source of inspiration. I took on the role of the sponge, desperate to absorb whatever he could impart.

It didn’t take long to recognize that, for Paul, this was more than the artistry and mechanics of music. He wasn’t just indicating tempos and dynamics, he was evoking sound from a unified group. It was worshipful, heavenly, and remarkably different from everything else I saw. College taught me how conducting works, but Paul taught me how to lead the worship of those who led worship as a conductor. The Holy Spirit worked through him, as if conducting on a different plane beyond the notes on a page. It was alive and spiritually vibrant.

When I was tasked with launching a traditional/blended worship service venue at Central, I knew I needed help. Before that, I had been a senior pastor who hung his conducting gloves up in the closet, assuming I’d not need them again. Yet, here was a new assignment from God. So, as I had done before, I called Paul and asked him to coach me and, by God’s grace, to get some of the same vibe I saw in his ministry.

Of course, I can’t get someone else’s anointing, but I knew that I could learn from someone who took the path I was searching out. Through conducing coaching and strategies for team building, Paul walked by my side and made a huge difference in developing my own skills and in pouring into others. He helped me see what God was doing and to join Him in that work.

Last year, I invited Paul and his accompanist Suzanne to come to Central and work with us. A Saturday workshop gave space for shaping not only music but the heart of our musicians. We saw the difference and wanted him back again this year. Last weekend, Paul and crew came back. This time, however, it wasn’t just to coach our people but to coach my conducting. In front of everyone. In real time. An earlier self-conscious version of myself would’ve crumbled in embarrassment. The goal wasn’t to look good but to grow — musically, communally, and spiritually. If that meant my conducting hero would correct me, I was happy to be corrected!

Like a kid in a candy shop, 30 years later. What an honor. What a gift. Not even scared.

The angle of your hands, the way you stand, the look on your face… subtle conducting changes make big changes in an ensemble. I know this up here (points to head) and feel it here (points to heart) but have to express it (wiggles fingers and waves arms). It’s not as easy as Paul makes it look — but I know that comes from years of trial and error, spiritual growth in his own life, and a willingness to give to others, which is exactly what he did for me.

There is a difference between inspiring people and impacting people. When I was just starting out in following God’s calling on my life, I was inspired by many — especially Paul. But, as he’s been generous in teaching me, I have been more than inspired. I’ve been impacted from up close. And it has made all the difference. I’m grateful for the mentors I’ve had in my life over the years. Last weekend with Paul was a special time for me and the people I serve, and I am grateful.

If you’re looking for a worship mentor, Paul is your guy. Highly, highly recommend.

Thank you, Paul.

Stoicism teaches that true freedom is found in the elimination of desire. Hogwash. You were built to desire, and muting that desire as a coping strategy simply doesn’t work — popular as the idea is.
Watch, comment, share.

This is a two-part problem with one solution.
Added bonus: is there such a thing as selfless ambition? I think so. What about you?

There are a lot of marriage jokes that get thrown around when someone is celebrating an anniversary. I’ve heard things like “we’ve been married for 15 wonderful years… 18 total. HA!” Both men and women have said this with a twinkle in their eye and maybe an edge to their voice. There’s lots of pressure to present well with a zinging disclaimer. “Oh, 30 years and we’ve NEVER had a fight”, which, in my limited observation, could mean that someone isn’t saying what they really think. Not that saying exactly what you think every moment is a good idea, especially to your wife. Or another — “I married my best friend and we’ve been blessed, blessed, blessed!” It’s good to celebrate and recognize friendship and God’s blessing (and/or an abundance of good experiences). These are all well and good, and I celebrate the ones who have made it so very long with no speed bumps. Marriage no easy situation because there’s a bit of dysfunction in all of us that bubbles to the surface at the worst possible times. Ask my wife: she’ll tell you what a jackwagon I can be. Brittany, on the other hand, is perfect in every way. Of course, if you ask her that, she’ll strongly disagree.

But she really is perfect. Perfect for me, at least. She knows me and loves me exactly as I need to be loved. I actually enjoy the rough edges we encounter because we usually know what’s behind them for each of us and find an opportunity for growth. We were both raised in certain circumstances that shape a person for the rest of their lives. There’s a LOT to be said about how your childhood experiences set you up for the future. Some are good, and some are in need slow re-wiring, which happens best in the context of a Christ-centered marriage. People are mysterious and contradictory and bizarre. At least I am. To quote one particular book title that sums human relationships up nicely: “Everyone is normal until you get to know them.”

I say this to couples that want me to perform their wedding ceremony. My first step is to try and talk them out of it, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. You can’t get married for yourself but for the other. I’ll say to the guy “you realize, of course, that your job is to love your wife as Christ loves the church, right?” “Uh huh” they say. And I drill deeper. “What did Christ do for the church?” Sometiems they have the right answer for this but it’s usually met with silence. “Um… loved it?” or something like that. “More than that,” I say. “Christ died for the church as a servant. Christ died for your wife to be, who is called to serve Christ. In other words, you’re the self-sacrificing servant of a servant of the Lord Jesus.”

“Uh huh.”

It takes a long time to learn how to serve someone at the same sacrificial level as Jesus, and it can’t be done by trying harder. It’s an act of worship (Romans 12:1) that calls us to submit to one another out of reverence for Christ (Ephesians 5:21). Marriage, therefore, isn’t about you being happy. It’s about becoming more like Christ as the Holy Spirit refines you by working through the person you married. I didn’t make this stuff up.

Brittany challenges me to be more like Christ than I would be otherwise. It’s not about me and never was. I say all that to say this: I didn’t marry Brittany because I wanted a good life, though I have one. I didn’t tie the knot to guarantee someone would be bound to take care of me, though she takes great care of me. We didn’t adopt each other’s kids because it would be “fun” to have a big blended family, though it often is. We did all of this because it was the right thing to do, joyful and challenging. Ours is a spiritual home remodel where there’s always painters tape stuck somewhere and a thin layer of sawdust covers the kitchen counters.

It’s like the Brady Bunch, but without Alice making up for all our deficiencies. We have to compensate for that stuff on our own with the grace of Jesus. Of course, we have a cadre of family and friends who help us out all the time. Couldn’t do it without them. But it’s no cakewalk. No wonder Paul suggested it’s better to stay single (1 Corinthians 7).

Today someone wished us a Happy Anniversary and asked how many years. I said “Three, but it feels like 30.” They laughed, thinking maybe I was dropping my own zinger. What I mean by that is that Britt and I have done so much in the last four years that it feels like every week is a month, and every month is a year. She and I went to dinner on Friday and took a quick inventory. In the past four years of knowing each other again, we’ve

• Flipped three houses, one of which was mine
• Signed off on the titles to 6 different cars
• Adopted each other’s kids (5 distinct feats of legal legwork)
• Had 5 kids in 4 different schools at the same time
• Started schooling and shifted employment after almost starting a business
• Merged households and encountered all kinds of different parenting approaches
• Renovated our kitchen and added a bedroom
• Sent one kid off to a career, the other off to college
• Learned how to raise and nurture a neurodivergent kid
• Buried our daughter, who presented with severe special needs yet made us much better people all around.

I’m not complaining, just pointing out that we’re dead-to-self serious about what we have in each other. She is a gift to me. Not like a nice painting or a knick-knack that you can set aside and enjoy every once in a while. No, this is like being gifted a house. And let me tell you: properly taking care of a house is a LOT of work. Enjoyment comes as a result of good maintenance by intention and action.

Three tightly packed, intense, and glorious years. Now that we’re rounding the bend to year 4, there are signs that things may slow down a bit — in a good way. But if we let go of Jesus or each other, we’re in trouble.

NOW on to the benefits of being married to Brittany Davidson. She’s smart & sassy, beautiful & feisty, honey & honeybee. She loves fiercely and takes care of her own — even those who aren’t biologically her own. She loves her husband with the love of Jesus. She’s changing into Christlikeness. She’s my best friend. And, let me say again, feisty. I love this woman.

I’m glad she said yes. I’m glad I said yes. We keep saying yes.

Yes to ALL of it.

A year ago today that my daughter Lexi died. I’m never sure whether to say “passed” or “died”. Death is a topic we all tend to avoid. To say someone passed away is giving a knowing nod without actually saying the word, kind of like calling it H E double hockey sticks or “you know where” while pointing down.

Incidentally, that’s not where Lexi is. Now there’s a great theological question best left to a great theologian. As a not-great, street level theologian, I say with blessed assurance that she’s with the Lord. My wife and I were just talking about her whereabouts this morning. In the hours leading to Lexi dying, she was looking at things with a unique glare, as if seeing something we couldn’t. This may strike some as mystical mumbo-jumbo, the kind of medicine you take to keep things afloat hope-wise, but I do believe that the grace of the Lord Jesus reaches into the inner soul workings of a nonverbal person in ways we can’t comprehend. I believe Lexi knew of a spiritual plane we won’t even begin to comprehend until our own passing, hopefully into the presence of Jesus. Based on that hope, I will see her again.

I once preached a funeral that included an open-mic time for the people to share their memories of the deceased. A bad idea from a young pastor. A woman stood up and said “If ANY of you want to see AUNT GLADYS again, you’ll become a Christian right now.” It was hostage evangelism. I don’t know if it worked or just scared the H E double hockey sticks out of the crowd. Who knows how the Spirit works, so I’ll leave that to Him.

Meanwhile, no more open mics at funerals.

Reaching into hurting hearts — that’s one thing that the Lord does at times like these. Brittany keeps saying that she feels like her heart is being torn in two, which is how I feel too, especially as I replay the events of the day a year ago in my head over and over. If hope is a medicine, it’s not like Tylenol where 30 minutes later the ache is gone. Instead, it’s like someone is with you in the pain. Jesus is the great physician who might dull the pain but goes one better in that He’s with you in the room, listening patiently to your pain while remaining present, full of love, grace, and mercy. There is peace in the ache.

It’s something (I’m told) you learn to deal with — the loss of a child. A woman who lost her son 30 years ago gives me a knowing look and a hug every Sunday morning. She says it doesn’t go away, and I believe her more now than I did a year ago. In that moment, she is the presence of Jesus. Maybe I’ll get to be that for you someday.

Lexi was many things for us — daughter, teacher, listening ear. She brought challenge to our world that had no reprieve. This is why so many parents of special needs kids/adults end up in a bad place. Divorce is twice as likely. Substance abuse is seen as the only escape from a Mobius strip of the daily grind. Kids go through phases where they’re afraid of the dark or staying out too late, or let their grades slip. These are but phases and seasons that come and go. In Lexi’s case, the diapers never ended. I would go speak someplace and do great things with microphones and spotlights, only to return home and have to brush the poop out from under my nails after an explosion. It’s hard to have a big head when you’re holding an audience one minute and holding a loaf of steaming feces the next. Jesus was there for all of it.

I hope that’s not too graphic for you. I’m trying to paint a picture here of why I’m not as self centered as I could be. I’ve still got a ways to go, but Lexi brought me right down to reality time and time again, and I’m glad for that. I was under her teaching, not for a long weekend, but for 20 years.

She would’ve been 21 years old next month. That’s a marker, kind of like today is a marker. As I’ve said before, I always had the hunch she’d die before me, but I sure didn’t think it would be this quick. She’ll be 22 next year. So it goes.

This weekend, Brittany and I mark three years of marriage. We’ve been together for 4, but it feels like 50. Today we keep looking at each other, crying a bit, and then moving forward with whatever life has for us. This late afternoon it’s landscaping for our front yard. Soon I’ll go get Zac from work. Cam has a basketball game tonight. People die and the rest of the world goes on, as it should. We’ve been given today with the relatively safe assumption of tomorrow. It’s only an assumption, though. Britt and I have learned — life can take a turn rather quickly.

If Lexi were here today, she would’ve started off by waking up with a severe case of bed head. Coaxing her with a bowl of warm oatmeal, she’d make her way to the bathroom to get ready. Dressed, ankle braces and shoes on, and (if Mom’s around) hair fixed up. She would’ve asked for a few songs and maybe a loaf of bread — whatever was in reach on the counter on her way out the door to the garage. She’d jump in the back seat of her Ford Focus, a rusted but trusted chariot that would get her to the end of the driveway as the bus gently glided down the road to our house. The back door of her car would be aligned perfectly by Tom, the school bus driver, so that Lexi would have as few steps as possible to take. Up the stairs and off to school. That’s what would’ve happened today.

At 7:19am, a Dean Transportation bus drove by our house but didn’t stop. The driver waved but continued on to the end of the neighborhood. I watch that bus – her old bus – go by every day around that time. It stings a little each time as the same route has one less stop.

Just as she wanted us to sing — the wheels on the bus keep going round and round, all through the town. Life moves forward for the rest of us.

I mean, seriously, what else are we supposed to do? Besides taking moments like this to process and mourn, there’s daylight burning and landscaping to be done. Basketball is meant to be played and night will eventually come. It’ll go that way tomorrow, too. And the next.

Those wheels on the bus keep going round and round. Though she’s passed (died, deceased, etc), she will come to my mind every day I’m here, whether the bus drives by or not.