Tag Archives: confession

The elevators to get to our top-floor office take FOREVER. So, it annoys the heck out of me when someone hits the ‘3’ button. I’m thinking, “What?! You can’t walk up two flights of stairs?!”

It was me, 2 guys chatting, and a fourth guy who just got on the elevator. Mr. Fourth hits the 3rd floor button. Ugh. We make our two-floor ascent, which I imagine my grandmother could complete faster in the stairwell.

Mr. Climacophobia* exits, and the two chatting guys start talking about it. They talk about how often people use the elevator for the third floor. Wow, I didn’t realize so many lazy people worked in our building. I’m about to chime in with some zinger remark, sure to get laughs from this audience of two (and God, I’m sure, too).

Then they mention that it’s unfortunate that the stairway is locked between the 2nd and 3rd floors, making the 3rd floor impossible to reach by stairs unless you have a key. OK, I’m a judgmental jerk. [-10 cool points] Praise God that I didn’t open my mouth. I’d rather learn my lesson in humility without looking like a complete idiot.

I’m quick to judge others, and it stinks. I won’t go into it, because you know what it’s like, whether you’re a judger or judgee. I want to be better – the lesson in the elevator was a start, writing this post is another step.

Care to share your snap judgment story with us?

* Actually mentioned in a Charlie Brown Christmas, watched this very night

I think I’m a darn cool mum these days. Peek into my head for a moment.

I live in the greatest city in the world. I walk down the street and see my neighbors Bono and Michael J. Fox. I stroll a happy baby around and laugh at the thought of all the people (actually, probably just lots of movie scripts) that said, “You can’t raise a baby in New York City!”

I’m surrounded by well-educated people, world-famous museums, and streets that have rich cultural significance. I left the city for a week to visit my family and all I thought about was, “Well, in NYC, we have…” and I tried really hard not to speak these comparisons where NYC is always “superior” because I became annoying even to myself.

Then I realized the hard truth. (If anyone is still reading this self-aggrandizing post.) I am becoming a prideful dork-slash-jerk. Here I am being protected, cared for, and blessed by my God and I respond by getting full of self-coolness. This, my friends, is why I think I haven’t posted in a while. The latest post ideas haven’t come to life because it would be a challenge to hide the yucky reality of Cool Mum. [-20 cool points]

A few years ago I was hit hard by the pride chapter in CS Lewis’ Mere Christianity. He talks about how pride is a root of so many sins. And it’s just not something that people naturally have mercy on when they sense it in other people, Lewis says. Think about how rare it would be to encounter someone who seems to be completely full of himself and say, “Poor guy, he is really struggling with pride right now.” Pride is just that gross.

In my analysis of pride of few years ago, I remember thinking that Jesus Christ is the only answer. Without Jesus, there is no logical reason to not be prideful. For instance, if I thought I could work my way to God or to being a good person, then there would be no reason for humility. But, because I know that Christ’s death is the only way I can be saved, then pride is seen for what it truly is, and it makes sense that prideful attitudes would be universally bothersome.

Are you struggling with pride right now?

As you pursue the crazy things that you feel God wants you to do, do you ever find it sneaking into your heart? Or in the past, how have you dealt with it?

Dear Son,

I am sitting in the corner of your room in the dark. Right now, you are sleeping peacefully next to your mum.

I can’t sleep. Last night was hard. You woke up at 1:00 am, and I came in here to comfort you back to sleep. Then you woke up at 2:00. Then 4:00. And then you cried on and off until 6:00.

From what I could tell, nothing was wrong. Your diaper was dry. You ate a snack before bed. Your temperature was fine, but you wouldn’t sleep.

I laid next to your play yard almost all night. I did that so you knew that you were not alone. Also because you can climb out. I hardly slept and got agitated.

At 6:00, I asked your mum where the diapers were. I was upset. In my frustration, I said that I was “sick of you” as I trudged to the garage to get diapers from our car. Immediately after saying that, I felt sorry.

I changed your diaper and brought you to your mum. I then dropped to my knees and prayed to God for forgiveness and repentance for that statement. I don’t ever want to be “sick of you.” God has never been sick of me — I should NEVER feel that way about you.

As I tried to sleep, you laid next to your mum. You had a little laugh in your sleep. I imagined that you were dreaming about the fun times when I swing you in the air, and my eyes welled up. Then I thought of how I would feel if you went away, and I wept.

Even during the hard times, I want to be a loving, patient father. I know that I will get frustrated in the future, maybe even tonight, but I should not say or do anything out of that frustration. I’m sorry.

The next few weeks are going to be difficult. As we’re moving to New York, there will be a lot of changes for you. The places will be new and strange. You will be seeing a lot more people everywhere.

You’ve been waking in the middle of the night this week, and I confess that I’ve told your mum that you might ruin the trip for us. I’m sorry for that, too. You will make the trip a joy, even if there are sleepless nights. I’m excited about the adventures that we’ll have together.

I love you, son. I want to be a father to you like God is to me. I hope that this small display of love will be a good step toward that.

Sweet dreams,
dad