Why Obstacles Matter

Chris Horst, one of the authors of Mission Drift, has some good thought in his Monthly Musings this month, about how challenges, and struggling/working to overcome them, are important to our growth and development. Isn’t this also


Is that so horrible?

Why I don’t mind my son watching me type and being forced to play by himself sometimes. I want him to see me reading and working at writing amd learning and thinking through things. Maybe when he’s older he can actually be a part of that process.

I didn’t even know there was a movement not to let kids see you on the phone/computer, but there you are, and it makes sense. I’m learning some balance. Having a tablet makes it very easy to be ‘connected’ whenever conscious. I could do that more with my phone, but it’s just slightly too…not advanced, a bit awkward to use for that constantly, for my taste: I can’t be bothered.


Go visit Sarah Bessey’s blog, there’s some good stuff there 🙂

In which I don’t mind if my tinies see me on the computer – Sarah Bessey

Reblog: Why I Hope My Son’s Life Is in Danger

I saw this post by Trent Hunter this morning. And it made me think. I need to know this book really well. Okay that link’s not really a book, and what I have in my hand is as often a tablet as often as it is a physical book, or 66 books. But I realise my son is going to be asking questions, and that I should be talking to him, in simple terms, about God and other ‘important things’ sooner than later. I just hope I do as good a job as the father in this article:


Why I Hope My Son’s Life Is in Danger

My son believed God’s Word when he heard it preached from 2 Thessalonians. Like most of us, some things he forgets, some things lodge themselves deep in his soul where they germinate over time, and some things arrest his imagination so that he can’t think about anything else.

If for some reason the pastor mentioned volcanoes, for example, he would think about that. If the pastor mentioned a bad guy, he would think about that.

This Sunday, there was a bad guy in the text. My son Carson heard it, his imagination went to work and his response made God’s harder promises more real to our family.

The Antichrist is scary.

Kristi was making dinner, the girls were hollering in play, I was setting the table and that’s when Carson asked, “Is Satan going to send a man to kill us?”

An ordinary moment just became one of the most important moments in the life of my son.

Carson was talking about the man he heard about in 2 Thessalonians 2:3-10, who comes “by the activity of Satan,” who will “proclaim himself to be God” and lead many away from Christ “with all wicked deception.” He is called “the son of destruction,” the “antichrist” (1 John 2:18), and in Revelation he’s pictured as a beast (Revelation 13).

My son was about to find out what it really means to be a Christian.

“Yes, son. Satan hates Jesus Christ, and he hates the people who belong to him. He is always scheming, and the Bible says that one day he will send a man to deceive many and destroy others who refuse to turn.”

I planned to continue with true and happy promises but was cut off when Carson started wailing. He didn’t want to die, and I could understand. I told Kristi to start dinner with the girls.

I took Carson into my office to talk about Jesus’ cross and about ours.

Jesus has strong breath.

By the time we sat down to talk, Carson was already on a fix. He wasn’t the first with this idea, and he wouldn’t be the last.

With urgency, he made his proposal: “What if we tell the man that we don’t believe in Jesus? What if we trick the man?”

Creative? Yes.

Honoring to Jesus Christ?

He agreed, no.

The fear and tears returned in force.

My son was fully convinced of the Word of God. Just not yet the good part.

And so it was my job to teach him the whole counsel of God, which does not end with Gethsemane, a cross and a tomb. “Son, Jesus died on the cross for us, and death may be the cost of following Jesus. But do you remember what happens to dead Christians?”

With each biblical reality we discussed came a new and corresponding wave of emotion.

Smirking through his tears, Carson looked into my eyes, and in perfect bad-guy defying, 5-year-old form, he made his hand into a knife, dragged it across his throat and applied the Bible to his life: “Then Satan can cut off my head.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears, and yet I could. He remembered the resurrection, and death lost its sting.

I knew only to pour more gas on his little fire of gospel faith.

“Son, Satan may send a man to kill us. This is true. And many more will come who hate Christ. But Jesus will come and destroy this man. Do you know how?”


“With his breath.”

He rose to his feet, walked across the room, picked up the Bible off my desk, put it in my hand where it belonged in this conversation and told me what to do: “Read me the Bible. Read me the part where Jesus breathes on the man.”

Suddenly 2 Thessalonians 2:8 became my new favorite Bible verse: “And then the lawless one will be revealed, whom the Lord Jesus will kill with the breath of his mouth and bring to nothing by the appearance of his coming.”

Hearing this word, Carson breathed in my face like a dragon and then giggled. It was the sound of faith. Breathing doesn’t take a lot of effort, and Carson understood.

Jesus’ breath is stronger than death.

I studied 2 Thessalonians for a week before preaching it to my son and our congregation. In a day, my son knew it better than I did.

Something scarier than death.

But isn’t it cruel or at least premature to fill the imagination of children with the stories and Scriptures of death for Christian discipleship?

When my son posed his question before dinner, I was tempted for a moment to comfort him by saying that he may not actually die for his faith. But that’s not what the children who saw Christ die on the cross would have understood. And that’s not how Jesus talked when he said things like, “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you [on my account]” (Matthew 5:11).

There is nothing more eternally healthy for the imagination of a young boy than to hear these words and place himself in the drama of Scripture. The same young imagination that may at first fear death, when captivated by Christ will remember these words and the breath of Jesus that lays low his enemies.

In fact, we will know our children believe Jesus’ promises about heaven when they believe Jesus’ promises about now.

But death for Christ isn’t inevitable for those who profess him as Lord. There’s another possibility that is far worse: deception.

The bad guy Carson heard about on Sunday comes with “wicked deception for those who are perishing,” and those who turn on Christ will “suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might” (2 Thessalonians 1:9-10). Many of us won’t have to pick between our lives and Christ. But some of us will, and some of our children will, or perhaps their children. This is the kind of Christianity we must pass down.

So, yes, I truly hope my son’s life is in danger.

No, not because I want him to suffer in any way. I lock the door at night, buckle his seatbelt and give him food for a reason.

I’m talking about danger from unflinching association with a crucified man. The safest place in this world outside of Christ is, in reality, the most dangerous place we can be.

With that lesson before us, we sat down to eat, thanked God for our food and prayed as Jesus instructed: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”