Fugitive Fear- Day 28- June R&R

This month is running out... I hope it has been a good one for you!

One of the things I have learned about myself over the years is that I really do not like being misunderstood.

That probably sounds obvious because I doubt anyone enjoys it, but I have noticed there is something about false assumptions or mistaken motives that gets under my skin much more than ordinary criticism.

It's kind of weird- but when I was a kid, TV shows or movies that dealt with an innocent person being 'framed' bothered me more than it should- something in me gets really upset when others conspire to take a good man down. Was this an early indication of how the story of Jesus would resonate with me at such a deep level?

If I make a mistake, I can usually own it. I have no problem apologizing when I have said something I should not have said or handled a situation poorly. Those moments are painful, but at least I know why they happened.

Being misunderstood is different.

There have been nights when I have replayed conversations in my mind, wishing I had explained myself better or wondering whether someone had completely misread my intentions. My natural instinct is to fix it. I want to clarify. I want people to understand what I meant. I want my reputation restored.

The older I get, however, the more I realize that this desire can quietly become another form of self-protection.

As I continued reading The Call, I was struck by Guinness' reminder that calling inevitably involves the cost of discipleship. If we identify ourselves with Christ, we should not be surprised when we occasionally share in His misunderstandings as well.

That is not an easy lesson.

And the reality is, until you learn to suffer that in patience and understanding- you are not trusting God as much as you think you are.

Os Guinness says it like this:

Calling entails the cost of discipleship. The deepest challenge is to renounce self and identify with Jesus in His sufferings and rejection.

Here is how Paul said it:

We are fools for Christ’s sake, but you are wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are held in honor, but we in disrepute. [11] To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, [12] and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; [13] when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.  

(1 Corinthians 4:10-13 ESV)

When I think about Joseph, one of the things that still bothers me is not simply that he was falsely accused. It is that, as far as we know, he never had an opportunity to clear his name. Potiphar's wife lied. Joseph went to prison. Scripture never records a public apology or a courtroom reversal.

There are too many examples of God’s people being misunderstood in the Bible to even list them. Even Jesus was accused of things that were completely false.

Looking back, I think I spent too much of my younger years assuming that if I simply lived faithfully, people would eventually understand. Life has not worked that way. Some do and some never will.

The difficult part is learning to trust God with a reputation that we cannot always control.

Guinness writes that calling requires us to identify with Christ not only in His service but also in His rejection.

That is sobering and the reality is everyone wants you  to know ‘my side of the story’.

I have learned to think of this as my 'fugitive fear'. Someone running as a fugitive (innocent and guilty) has no rest and the fear only intensifies.

My fear of being misunderstood becomes a 'fugitive fear' because I don't stay with it long enough to understand it. I immediately try to escape it by explaining or defending myself. The running makes the fear grow, while stopping allows me to sort out what's true, what's mine to own, and what I have to let go.

My fear of being misunderstood isn't just about people getting me wrong—it's the fear that they'll make judgments about my character or motives that I can't control or correct. It makes me feel like I have to constantly explain, defend, or prove myself so others will see the "real" me. Instead of feeling free to simply be honest, I end up trying to manage other people's perceptions, and that's exhausting.

We all live in a world where misunderstanding is inevitable. Jesus Himself experienced it. In Matthew 11:19 and Luke 7:34, people accused Him of being "a glutton and a drunkard" simply because He shared meals with sinners.

“But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to their playmates, [17] “‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’ [18] For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ [19] The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds.” (Matthew 11:16–19 ESV)

The problem wasn't that either man had failed to explain himself—it was that some people had already decided how they would interpret them. These passages remind us that even a perfectly truthful and loving life does not guarantee being understood. Part of living faithfully is accepting that we cannot control everyone else's perceptions. Our calling is not to eliminate misunderstanding but to remain rooted in truth, trusting that God knows us fully even when others do not.

Yet over the years I have also learned that not every misunderstanding needs my defense. Sometimes the wisest thing I can do is continue living faithfully and trust God with the outcome.

One of the strange freedoms that comes with growing older is slowly realizing that I do not have to win every argument, answer every accusation, or convince every critic.

You get OLD enough to feel the freedom to 'just be you'- that is a strange gift of growing older. The older you get, the less you care about it! I call it "the freedom to be me". I have lived long enough to finally meet the man inside of me, instead of running or hiding!

God knows all about this. That does not remove the sting, but it does reduce the panic.

As I think about this June Tune-Up, I wonder whether some of our exhaustion comes from carrying responsibilities that were never ours in the first place.

Faithfulness is our responsibility. Reputation ultimately belongs to God. There is a difference.

And perhaps part of growing in our calling is learning to live with that difference.

Song Links:

Long Enough to Be Me

Fugitive Fear

Let All Your Thinks Be Thanks- Day 27- June R&R

As I continue reading through The Call, I come to a chapter with one of the most memorable titles in the book: Let All Your Thinks Be Thanks.

Europe has been teaching us that during this 2026 FIFA World Cup. TikTok and other social media sites are filled with visitors extolling many of the things we have grown to take for granted.

Re-reading both The Call and my old devotional series from 2014 is a reminder that gratitude seems to show up everywhere. It appears in different forms and under different names, but it keeps resurfacing. The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that gratitude may be one of the most important spiritual disciplines in the Christian life.

When I was growing up, we did not have a great deal, but we had enough. Every now and then my dad would take us out to eat, and my grandmother had a remarkable ability to stretch a coupon into what felt like a feast. I still remember those Sunday trips to Arby's. Looking back, the sandwich probably wasn't all that special, but that isn't what I remember. What I remember is being thankful for it.

Somewhere along the way I discovered that gratitude has very little to do with the size of the gift and a great deal to do with the condition of the heart receiving it.

Years later, when I was living in Nashville, I encountered students who had already seen far more of the world than I had at their age. They had traveled internationally, experienced luxury, and possessed opportunities that would have been unimaginable to me as a teenager. What struck me was not what they had. It was how unimpressed they seemed by everything.

That experience taught me something. The opposite of gratitude is not poverty.... it is entitlement.

A person can have very little and be deeply grateful. A person can have almost everything and still believe they deserve more.

That is why Guinness connects gratitude so closely to calling. He writes:

"Calling is a reminder for followers of Christ that nothing in life should be taken for granted; everything in life must be received in gratitude."

Even the ordinary things that we rarely stop to notice.

One of the observations Guinness makes is that people who lose gratitude eventually lose perspective. What began as wonder slowly becomes expectation. What was once received as a gift is now viewed as an entitlement.

That may be one of the oldest temptations in the human experience.

In Genesis 3, Adam and Eve stood in a garden overflowing with gifts, yet the serpent succeeded by directing their attention to the one thing they did not possess. Their eyes moved from abundance to absence.

Gratitude teaches us to pay attention to what is already present.

I think that is one reason gratitude brings peace. It slows the restless search for more and allows us to enjoy what God has already provided.

As I work through this June Tune-Up, I find myself wondering whether gratitude is less an emotion and more a way of seeing. Two people can look at the same life and arrive at entirely different conclusions. One sees limitations. The other sees blessings.

It is sad to me how many people will purposely choose to not celebrate the 250 anniversary of the American experiment. Is America perfect? NO Am I thankful to be here? YES I AM!

I'm grateful. Could it be that those who come from a perspective of shame for this great nation has a lot to do with anger that stems from what they don't have instead of the peace of contentment in God and the simple, meaningful things in life?

Perhaps that is why Paul repeatedly gives thanks, even while writing from prison. His gratitude was not dependent on circumstances. It was rooted in the goodness of God.

A way of remembering that every good and perfect gift ultimately comes from Him.

In a world where we have divided people into 'oppressors' and 'oppressed'- and the anger it engenders - a route out is disciplining ourselves to find gratitude - as well as recognizing all humans as made in the image of God.

And if Guinness is right, then perhaps one of the healthiest habits we can develop is learning to let all our thinks become thanks.

Song Link: Attitude of Gratitude

Patches of Godlight- Day 26- June R&R

As I continue reading The Call.....

I came to one of my favorite phrases in the entire book. Guinness describes Christians as "patches of Godlight," and the image has stayed with me ever since.

The older I get, the more I find myself thinking about ordinary days.

When I was younger, I was fascinated by big moments. Championships. Major decisions. Opportunities. Turning points. The events that seemed to define a life.

But most of life is not lived in those moments. Most of life is lived on ordinary Tuesdays.

You answer emails. You drive across town. You sit through meetings. More errands.

You solve small problems. I always laugh and say a big part of my job these last 15 years as a school administrator is defusing about 2 or 3 atomic bombs every day. Sometimes, I don't know if I should cut the green or red wire, but I just do it- and things die down... rinse, repeat.

And if we are not careful, we begin to think those moments do not matter. Especially things that are so easily forgotten.

That is where Guinness helped me.

One of the themes running throughout The Call is that calling transforms even the commonplace. The ordinary becomes significant because it is offered to God.

Paul captures this beautifully:

"Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God."

I have always loved the comprehensiveness of that verse.

Years ago, I was asked to drive somewhere and pick up a person who needed a ride back to school. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the assignment. It was not a leadership opportunity. It was not a strategic initiative. Nobody was going to write an article about it.

It was just a ride.

As I drove, I found myself enjoying the day. I listened to part of a sermon. I prayed. I noticed the beauty around me. I even heard a good George Strait song on the radio.

When I picked up my passenger, I remembered something C. S. Lewis once wrote:

"You have never talked to a mere mortal."

That person was not an interruption, he was an image-bearer.

The ride back became one of those simple moments that quietly reminded me that life is full of opportunities to serve God that never feel particularly dramatic. The task itself had not changed- but my perspective had.

And perhaps that is what Guinness means by "patches of Godlight."

A Christian teacher becomes a patch of Godlight in a classroom. A parent becomes a patch of Godlight at home.

A coach becomes a patch of Godlight on a practice field. A businessperson becomes a patch of Godlight in the workplace.

Not because they are extraordinary, but because God shines through ordinary faithfulness.

Do you know the illustration of the three men working on a construction project? When asked what they were doing, the first said he was laying bricks. The second said he was earning a living. The third said he was building a cathedral. Even though all three were performing the same task.

What are you doing today? A seemingly mundane series of tasks? What about "spreading the light of Jesus Christ in a world choking in darkness"! Giving hope, being kind, modeling gratitude - being different enough that someone might ask you about the reason of the hope in you-

1 Peter 3:15- but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect,

"Calling" lifts our eyes beyond the immediate task and reminds us that even ordinary work can participate in something eternal.

Guinness also makes an observation that I found increasingly convicting as I grow older. He points out that drudgery is (unfortunately) part of discipleship. Yeah, I don't like that either.

We tend to think significance lives in extraordinary moments.

Oswald Chambers argued the opposite.

"We do not need the grace of God to withstand crises—human nature and pride are sufficient for us to face the stress and strain magnificently. But it does require the grace of God to live twenty-four hours of every day as a saint, going through drudgery, and living an ordinary, unnoticed, and ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus." 

The older I get, the less interested I become in writing a grand mission statement and the more interested I become in glorifying God in whatever He places in front of me today.

The extraordinary Christian life is usually lived through ordinary acts of faithfulness repeated over a very long period of time.

And when those moments are offered to God, they become patches of Godlight.

There are no ordinary days,
Not a single one we’re given.
Every breath, every face,
Is a thread of grace we’re living.
From the hard-earned laughs to the tears we save,
These moments don’t come again—
There are no ordinary days,
When they’re spent with the ones we love.

Song Link: No Ordinary Days

The Drive of a Dream- Day 25- June R&R

One of the more interesting chapters in The Call is Guinness' discussion of vision, dreams, and what T.E. Lawrence called "the dreamers of the day."

Lawrence wrote:

"All men dream; but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."

I think most of us understand what he means.

There are dreams that come and go. We daydream about what might have been or what could be. Then there are those dreams that seem to settle deep into our bones. They refuse to leave us alone. We think about them while driving, while working, while praying, and sometimes while lying awake at night.

The older I get, the less interested I am in whether people have dreams and the more interested I become in what those dreams are doing to them.

That may be one of the places where Guinness surprised me in this chapter.

The modern world tends to celebrate every dream equally. Follow your dreams. Chase your dreams. Believe in your dreams. We hear those phrases constantly.

Guinness is much more careful.

He points out that dreams can become dangerous when they stop serving God's calling and start serving our own ambitions. His warning is memorable:

"It is easy to abuse vision and make it serve as chaplain to our conceits or bellhop to our desires."

That line hit me harder this time than it did years ago.

The truth is that I can baptize almost any ambition if I try hard enough. Most of us can. We can convince ourselves that our plans, our goals, and our desires are automatically God's plans simply because we want them badly.

That is why I have come to appreciate what I would call a disciplined dream.

A disciplined dream is still a dream. It is still bold. It is still hopeful. It is still willing to attempt difficult things. But it is held with an open hand before the Lord.

Years ago I had a dream that consumed a good portion of my coaching life - I wanted to be part of a state championship football team.

There is no need to make that sound more spiritual than it was. I wanted it badly. I thought about it constantly. We came close in 1996 and again in 1997. Those losses hurt.

But there was another part of the dream that mattered just as much.

My prayer during those years was often something like this:

"Lord, I want to win a state championship, and when we do, I want to be able to look around and still have my faith, my family, and my friends."

At the time, I probably did not realize how important that second part of the prayer was.

The early years of driving toward a dream is so costly- I have often joked that I'm going to get to heaven one day and the Lord will say, "Why did you spend all that time drawing up football plays!" And the hunger and thirst we put into that (not just me- our entire team of coaches) is hard to describe... it was just on the edge on an unhealthy obsession.... but my prayer was sincere- I had to keep my faith, my family, my friends... and the harder you push, the more agonizing the pain when you falls short- quarterfinals, semi-final losses haunted me for weeks. In 1997, I was SURE it was our time only to be knocked out by a last second field goal!

Then 1998 arrived, and we went 15-0. The dream happened. Then we did it again- then 5 years later another one- I have 9 rings in my trophy case of various State and National Championships...

Read more about them here: The Significant Insignificance

What fascinates me now is that when I look back on those seasons, the championships are wonderful memories, but they are not what I treasure most. The relationships matter more. The lessons matter more. The people matter more.

In other words, the deeper prayer turned out to be more important than the visible dream.

That realization has changed the way I think about vision.

I still have big prayers, but my dreams have changed over the years.

I find myself dreaming less about achievements and more about faithfulness. Less about accomplishment and more about influence. Less about recognition and more about seeing God at work in my family, my students, and the people He has placed around me.

Perhaps that is what happens when calling begins to shape ambition. The dream remains, but it becomes disciplined - willing to wait and even listen.

How about this one? The joy of making ANOTHER person's dream come true. Like a sherpa taking someone to the top of Everest for the very 1st time.

One of the things I appreciate about Nehemiah is that he was not merely a dreamer. He was a prepared dreamer. When the king asked what he wanted, Nehemiah already knew. He had prayed. He had planned. He had counted the cost. He had done the hard work before the opportunity arrived.

Dreams without discipline are foolish fantasies. Dreams submitted to God with discipline become callings.

As I continue this June Tune-Up, I find myself asking a different question than I would have asked twenty years ago. Back then I wanted to know whether my dreams would come true.

Now I find myself asking whether the dreams I carry are actually God's dreams for me- and if they are not, then I hope He has the kindness to replace them with something better.

Because one thing I know for certain: every dream that comes from Him will ultimately lead us closer to Him.

And that is a dream worth pursuing.

Song Link: Dangerous Dreams

Dangerous Dreams

"All men dream; but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible." T.E. Lawrence

Not every dream is born beneath the moon.

Some sleep with folded hands,
content to vanish
with the first pale light of morning.
They ask for nothing,
cost nothing,
change nothing.

But there are other dreams.

They arrive in daylight,
uninvited,
standing at the edge of ordinary moments
like prophets disguised as strangers.

They refuse the comfort
of "what has always been."

They whisper,
Build.
Speak.
Go.
Risk.

They haunt the engineer
until bridges cross impossible rivers.

They trouble the teacher
until forgotten children discover their names.

They awaken the preacher
until dry bones remember breath.

They disturb the artist,
the scientist,
the mother,
the reformer,
the martyr.

They are dangerous
because they will not remain imagination.

They demand hands,
not merely hearts.

Feet,
not merely thoughts.

Sacrifice,
not merely applause.

Every prison has feared them.
Every tyrant has mocked them.
Every comfortable soul has called them foolish
before history called them necessary.

For every cathedral,
every cure,
every act of mercy,
every nation restored,
every chain broken,
began as a dream
someone refused to leave asleep.

Yet the greatest danger
is not the dream itself—

it is the dreamer
who kneels long enough
to hear the voice of God,
then rises
with open eyes
and calloused hands.

Such people unsettle the world.

They walk into darkness
carrying dawn.

And tomorrow,
more often than not,
learns its first language
from those
who dared
to dream
while fully awake.