When the Future Changes

There were two men in my life. They both wanted to officiate my wedding. They both decided – separately – that if they never met the man I married, I wasn’t allowed to get married. Or, as one of them clarified, if I did get married without them, they’d act like the marriage was a figment of my imagination until they could reinact the ceremony with their involvement. (I didn’t dare act like they weren’t serious.) 

Both Terry and Ray jokingly-but-not-so-jokingly fought each other as they planned for my future wedding together as far as who would get most of the limelight as the officiator of my wedding, who got to kiss my cheek first and who got to harass my groom the best. 

I could never decide if their surrogate- fatherly arguments warmed my heart or added to my anxiety. Usually, I just laughed instead of focusing on the confusion. I was loved, that’s what I needed to remember. I was 16 and both these men had higher dreams for my future than I did. When I nearly ruined my life with childish decisions at 19 years old, they both spent hours (and I mean hours) almost daily on the phone talking me through my decisions and asking me the hard questions no one else wanted to ask. 

Both of these men passed away within a year of each other.  It didn’t hit me until last night for some reason that neither of these men get to see my wedding. Neither of these men get to ask me the hardest questions of all: “Can you support this man when he seems unsupportable? Can you make him laugh when all you want to do is make him cry? Can you show him Christ when all you want to do is show him yourself?” 

Even at 16, they warned me about those questions. They told me what they wanted the answers to be and what they would do if my answers didn’t represent Christ. They were futuristically minded when I couldn’t be. They cared more for my future than almost any other nonrelated acquaintance ever had.

They didn’t plan on not being around to help me grow up, but they prepared me for the future just in case they weren’t.

What if we discipled like that more often? What if we strove to be involved with our mentees but prepared them to be just as godly, wise and prepared without us as they are when they are with us? What if we didn’t shield them from hard things but rather taught them that they can prepare for a storm before it comes? 

What if we discipled in such a way that those we disciple don’t pine after us after we’re gone but rather strive to immulate the Christ-like characters we focused on the most?

He Said Wait?


I don’t always know how to be a human being. Secretly, sometimes I wonder if God rewired me to be a human doing. Doing is so much easier than being. Being takes work. Doing takes… well, it’s just easier. 

In a world of technology, social media, and everything at my finger tips the instant I need it, my quandary doesn’t seem horrendous. 

My success as a writer requires spontaneous writing; which sometimes happens at 3a.m. when the rest of the world is asleep. My presence in the world of communication means staying up on the latest social medias, knowing how to network with writers I barely know and just… Constantly doing something. 

I’m your typical, unmarried millennial in the communication world. I sleep with my iPad and my iPhone nearby. The second my phone alarm goes off in the morning (‘cuz alarm clocks are just too last decade practical), I’m alerted to people half way across the world either asking me to join them in prayer or asking me to consider partnering in some new communication thing. My generation has reinvented the word instantaneous.

Telling myself to wait… Or that my tasks can wait… Feels impossible. 

Instead of telling my task-oriented mind to wait I end up telling God to wait. Actually, no I don’t. I don’t take the time to tell God to wait. I just assume He gets that I have things to do and don’t have time to address Him right now. I’m a human doing, gosh darn it. I don’t have time to do what it takes to be a human being. 

Some of these tasks are things He himself gave me to do, so that means it’s okay to focus on godly things first thing in the morning rather than on God himself… Right? Maybe? No? 

I’m learning that serving the Lord sometimes means putting things on hold just to be with the Lord. He is, after all, the God Supreme over everything. When I decide to actually exist by being with Him rather than doing for Him, He can manage – without me – the things I put on hold. 

It’s okay to wait. It’s okay to say no. It’s okay to rest. It’s even okay to simply enjoy the Lord by sitting still with Him for a few moments before doing things for Him.