The Back Table

My family has a tradition. We always get our Christmas tree on Black Friday. It's the earliest you can get one before all the needles fall off just by looking at it wrong. (The week of Christmas I try not to look directly at the tree - always out of the peripheral.) Not only do we get it the same date, but we also get it from the same place which is about thirty minutes away - without the tree on top, of course. Another part of the tradition is showing up at the tree farm totally unprepared and unequipped. Part of the joy is the expressions and stares of others that are there with their gloves, pick-up trucks, roof racks and bungee straps. Some of them probably think we showed up spontaneously as they watch us, in total disbelief, throw a tree on our unprotected car roof without anything to tie it down with. Now, to this point I'm happy with our tradition. But it's here, the part where the tree has to get secured to the car, that I could do without. You would think, that a

What do you do when your golf club leaves your hand and is flying over hundreds of people? Do you grab a 6 iron and pretend it's not yours? Do you yell, "Fore!" and just hope that everyone gets out of the way? Do you justify your inaction with thoughts like, "At baseball games, bats and balls find their way to the stands all the time, and people fight each other to get them. Isn't this the same thing? Wouldn't it be wrong for me to keep my club from being theirs?" It was a warm, spring afternoon, and I was invited by my older brother and his friend to go to the driving range to hit some balls. Since this was my first time ever to hit a golf ball with a golf club, I was pretty excited. I had visions of being amazing, of reaching new distances that no one ever reached before. I imagined them naming the new distance after me. They might call it the "Josh Zone" or "Land of Josh." But to my dismay, the only tangible memory or imprint tha

Standing nearby were six stone water jars, used for Jewish ceremonial washing. Each could hold twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” When the jars had been filled, he said, “Now dip some out, and take it to the master of ceremonies.” So the servants followed his instructions. When the master of ceremonies tasted the water that was now wine, not knowing where it had come from (though, of course, the servants knew), he called the bridegroom over. “A host always serves the best wine first,” he said. “Then, when everyone has had a lot to drink, he brings out the less expensive wine. But you have kept the best until now!” John 2:6-10 Did you ever read this story and ask the question...why? Why waste a miracle on changing the beverage menu? Why do it and then want everyone to keep quiet about it? I mean, what did it accomplish for Kingdom purposes? I know many churches and religious circles don't give this miracle a lot of pulpit time, maybe beca

One of my all-time favorite games to play as a kid was Kick the Can. Basically, there is one person who is "it," and everybody else hides. Once you're found, you have to go to the "prison" (base) and hope and pray that someone rescues you by touching the can or ball before the person who's "it" does. Playing the game, I remember hiding and the feeling of not wanting to leave my spot. I didn't want to risk being found or caught and then have to take the walk of shame to the porch. But I also remember feeling a stronger pull to get up and rescue some people. Hiding always felt like a waste of time, like I was missing all the excitement. Every once in a while someone would be hidden so well that a couple games would go by and they wouldn't even realize it. They couldn't hear everyone screaming that the game was over and everyone who was caught was rescued. That was the worst feeling, and it happened to me at least once or twice. I love the

This past fall my six-year-old daughter, Morgan, joined a soccer team for the first time. If you've ever seen my daughter, you know that she's petite - in the two percentile to be exact. With sports, she's got to work a little harder than the average to compete. When we showed up to the first practice equipped with shin guards, water bottle, and a shiny pink and white soccer ball, I wasn't sure what to expect, as she would be playing with girls that were older and bigger than her. But when we stepped out of the car, it was like releasing a dog in an open field for the first time. I just kind of stood there and watched as she made her way to the field, a little caught off guard by her excitement and courage. With only a few more games left in the season, Morgan was the only girl on the team who hadn't scored a goal, and I could tell it was starting to bother her a little bit. And that bothered me. As I watched from the sideline, I would try to help her by air kicking

So Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and said, “This is what the LORD, the God of the Hebrews, says: How long will you refuse to submit to me? Let my people go, so they can worship me." Exodus 10:3 To this day, whenever I hear or read the story of the Israelites being held hostage by Pharaoh, my mind automatically starts shooting off questions like, "Seriously, Pharaoh, the plague of boils and frogs weren’t enough to convince you that just maybe there was a higher power working through Moses?" As a boy I would imagine things that might have changed his mind - like maybe little leprechauns dropping from the sky or baseball bats. The fact is there was nothing that would have softened his heart enough to let them go. Why? Because at some time, at some point he believed the lie that he was in control; that he was king; that submission was something only other (lower) people did. As I was reading through this event again, I noticed something that I had never seen before. In Ex