(R) Adam Davidson

Hold on to Jesus. Take His hand and live life with a tight grip on the risen Savior. We lose our grip when we 1) lose our focus on Christ 2) try to fix it ourselves 3) get tossed about by the evil at work in and around us.

The cross is empty, the tomb is empty — the revolution has begun. Actually, it started a couple thousand years ago BUT we celebrate it annually as a claim to Christ’s victory and a reminder to live out this gospel. Believe. Stand. Hold firm.

[RadCast] Maundy Thursday (John 13)
Jesus doesn’t mince words — he tells us to love each other. It’s not a suggestion, it’s not conditional. It’s a command — love others as I have loved you.
What takes Holy Week from being sentimental to transformative? It’s seeing the story for what it actually is — a rescue operation that affects how we live here and now.
A new commandment — novum mandatum — love one another.
Yes, Lord. But we need your help.

… not Jesus, though. He accepts betrayal. Did you read that? He accepts betrayal. He knows what we’re capable of, realizes our deep dysfunction, knows what we did and how it broke part of the world, and yet…he still loves us. Oh, he’s going to call it out, but don’t doubt for one second that he is motivated by love and compassion, grace and truth, and a peculiar servanthood and Lordship. Betrayal? He expects no less from messed up humans who say one thing and do another, who lie to others, themselves, and God, who treat others like garbage and complain when they do it to us. We’re a mess. A beloved mess.

I wrote a short devotional that goes along with the last two weeks leading up to Easter. Originally published for the people of Central Wesleyan — it’s free to all, unless you want to buy an ol’ fashioned print copy from the church.

Jesus is both relaxed and focused as he again predicts his death, aware that his Tuesday will be different from yours and mine. He knows who sent him, what he’s supposed to do, why he’s going to do it, and what it will mean. This is not a mission of comfort and convenience but of obedience to the Father who has glorified Jesus… and is about to in a most painful, beautiful way.

Always take your shoes off at the door.

I mean, let’s face it — she’s the one who puts all this vacation production together and gets it off the ground. I might drive and run the clock and carry heavy things up flights of stairs, but she’s the planner, the executer, the quality control officer. We might give a thumbs up to the captain who flies the plane, but true kudos goes to the maker of the plane (Brittany), the flight planner (Brittany), Air Traffic Control (Brittany) and baggage inspection (Brittany).

Our family has been in a state of constant morph — we lost Lexi, two of our boys are adults and doing their own thing (mostly) now, and we span 8 years between two siblings who somehow get along in a car for 24 hours. Brittany’s big motivation is making sure good memories are made, people get what they desire (within reason) and all the stuff is lined up for everyone else. Servant. Planner. Putting others first.

Brilliant.

Kudos to the Vacation Maker. Everybody had a great week because of your hard work, planning, dedication, and drive to take care of your people. We love you.

I wasn’t a sports kid. I wasn’t a sports Dad.

Until Cam.

Whatever smooth moves my 8 year old has on the court doesn’t come from me, be it genetics or meaningful experience. The only ability I bring to the table is my incredible capacity to score a perfectly-arched air ball. That’s when the ball misses the backboard and rim completely. Well, air ball and a viewing of the hit movie Air Bud. I bring that to the table, too.

No, Cam’s basketball skill comes from Shawn.

I never met Shawn, Cam’s Dad in heaven, but I have moments where I “see” Shawn in a facial expression or in the way Cam moves because it reminds me of a video or a picture from the past. I really see it when he and I are playing one on one. The swagger, the coordination, the fact that he throws the ball and it actually goes into the basket — that’s biological. That’s Shawn. My successes in our games only come because I’m tall.

Brittany worked it out for us to do a quick trip to Cleveland to catch a March Madness game at Rocket Arena. I wasn’t a fan of Robert Morris University ’till around 2pm yesterday. Didn’t even know it existed. The same with Saint Mary College in California. These were close, urgent, intense games, and had the fan energy and food to match. They’re doing some fine work in the deep-friend broccoli department. Secret: the dipping sauce. I dare say I’d munch on a shingle if it were deep friend and dipped in Buffalo Ranch. And I actually like Broccoli.

Anyway, there we were with 18,000 or so fans entertained by mascots and pep bands between play. Cam was in his element, studying players and exclaiming at the right moments. He was transfixed. Laser focused, Chicken Nuggets and Sprite within reach. Watch, Cam. These guys are good. See how they stay on each other? Hands in the air!

We got home late and watched the defeat of Bryant by Michigan State under the gaze and consistent lead of the Coach Izzo. Cam kept saying “Can you believe we were just there? We saw an actual basketball game! And we were on TV, too, Daddy. Remember?”

This morning Cam and I played ball in his room. He was far more assertive, playing with the same kind of drive he saw at yesterday’s games. I’d better get taller or I’m done for.

I was happy we shared such a great day with him. Yet, on the ride home, I thought about the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Had there been no loss, no unexpected disaster and destruction in two families that have become a new single family, Shawn would’ve been in that chaotic arena sitting next to Cam, filling him in on all the details and teaching him about the game. Cam has me, and we see God’s redeeming hand in this, but I… and this is strange… I felt sadness for my son that his Dad couldn’t be there. His Dad/Shawn. I mourned.

B and I talked about it on the long drive home. We had lots of time in the car (around 10 hours). We both cried at the beautiful sadness of tragedy and redemption. I never met Shawn, but in these moments I can see his impact. I realize Cam is missing out on the way things should’ve been. So, I’m here to pick up where Shawn left off. I don’t feel inadequate. I feel honored, a little sad, and aware of how unpredictable life is.

And I’m surprised that it’s possible to miss a person I’ve never actually met.

This is yet another mystery of God’s grace in blended families. What can I say?

I’m proud to be a sports Dad.