Sometimes in life, we feel that our prayers are met with a heavy silence.
And in our culture of instant gratification and immediate response, we don’t take kindly to that silence from God.
The past few months have been a particularly difficult and challenging season for us, culminating in emergency surgery for our two-day-old grandson, a three-week stay in neonatal intensive care, and a diagnosis of Cystic Fibrosis.
As we walked through each difficulty, and especially as we prayed for and hurt with our children and first grandchild, I found myself begging God for “a word, or a sign.”
And then, a side note in a sermon brought me up short. It was this: When God told Zacharias that he would father a son, and Zacharias was struck dumb, it had been literally thousands of years since God had spoken to men. For thousands of years, His people had worshipped Him in the temple and served Him according to ancient instructions in their scriptures...and not heard one word from Him.
For those of us who are battling difficulty, disease, or disappointment, for those of us who feel that we are just muddling through, those who, like me, have been asking God to give us a word, a sign, the Christmas story holds a magnificent message. God is no longer silent, nor will He ever be again.
Here is the word we long for:
And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.
John 1:14
Here is the sign we so desperately seek:
This shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the Babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
Luke 2:12
Praying that in Jesus you will truly find everything you seek –
Martha
Change. We’ve heard that word a lot lately. President-elect Barack Obama won the recent election with a promise that he would be an agent of change in the White House. His opponent, John McCain, proudly sported the label of “maverick”, seeking to project an image of a candidate who would have a different approach to things.
As powerful as our heads of government are, the real change that they can affect is miniscule compared to what happened in Bethlehem over two thousand years ago. So many pre-conceived ideas and comfortable methodologies were forever altered when Jesus was born in that manger.
Even the most faithful were shaken when He was born. Their long-anticipated Messiah arrived in the most humble of circumstances. Quietly, without fanfare, a King was born. That was a stunning change from what had been expected. He lived His life in a carpenter’s shop, not a palace. He didn’t introduce His ministry with a blaring, extravagant campaign. Even His death produced a drastic change of peoples’ perspectives. The cross, once a morbid representation of death, was indelibly altered to become a symbol of His love.
Jesus’ words provoked even more radical changes in the traditional way of thinking. Love your enemies? How was that even possible? He said the last will be first and the first will be last. He proclaimed a kingdom where the meek would inherit the earth, the persecuted would be rewarded, and the merciful would be the ones who obtained mercy.
But the greatest change of all that Jesus introduced was what He brought you and me. Because He was born, because of what He had to offer us, our lives, destined for destruction and death, were suddenly overflowing with hope and promise. Beyond His miraculous birth and His stirring words was His love. Emmanuel – “God with us” – sought us in order to change us. His changes are not surface or superficial. He came to bring us a revolutionary way of living, today and eternally.
I believe that Thanksgiving may be my favorite holiday of the year. And, it’s not just about the food and the football, even though that, alone, is enough to put a smile on my face. Our house has always been a gathering place at Thanksgiving. Family and friends stop by during the day, and, together, we acknowledge that God has really been good to us all. We always have a houseful, coming and going from morning until midnight. All ages and all races and nationalities are represented in our home that day, with one common, overriding theme. It may not be stated in so many words, but there’s an atmosphere there that’s undeniable. We’re blessed.
I wanted to take some time and space here to express some random thoughts and ideas about my favorite time of the year.
Being Thankful
Your mom was right – always say “please” and “thank you.” Whether she realized it or not though, that seemingly insignificant act has far more impact than simply socially acceptable behavior. Developing a thankful heart, as well as an attitude of ungratefulness, is a habit. So, fill your home with thankfulness! It starts with Mom and Dad – saying “please,” “thank you,” and “you’re welcome.” Then declare it to be a family trait - “Our family expresses thanks!” Expressions of thankfulness are like the reins and the bridle in the horse’s mouth. They will turn the tide of attitude in your home.
"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."
Colossians 2:6-7 (NIV)
How Many Ways To Worship?
One activity you can try with your family is to discover every way you can think of to worship God. Almost any age group can participate in this exercise that expands your family’s concept of worship. And it can be a project that stretches over an extended period of time, because, in reality, there are limitless responses to this. Feel free to allow your kids to use their imaginations.
The book of Psalms is the perfect place to teach your children what worship looks like and sounds like. Give your family the assignment to search through the entire book in order to prompt them to find all the different ways to worship. The list in almost inexhaustible, and offers such a variety of postures and practices that anyone can find something that’s a comfortable expression for them – be still, sing, shout, clap your hands, stand, sit, lie down, leap, and on and on. For school age children, the visual of writing all the responses on butcher paper or posterboard makes a real impact.
The Thanksgiving Tradition
The original Thanksgiving dinner began with each person having seven kernels of corn on his or her plate, to commemorate the time of famine when that was all each colonist had to eat each day for months…after eating those, they gave thanks for God’s bountiful blessing, and began the feast. Why not make that a tradition that reminds us of the abundance of God’s goodness? Or, go around the table with each person offering a sentence prayer thanking God for something they are specifically, especially thankful for.
If you have any meaningful Thanksgiving traditions in your home, we’d love for you to share them with us. You can tell us about them in the comments here, or, for you more private types, you can email us at MarthaandGreg@aol.com. Have a blessed Thanksgiving weekend!
It’s a faded brown gingham apron, hand-stitched, trimmed with a ribbon and a row of equally faded pinkish ric-rac. They say she never was without her apron, and sure enough, the photo I have shows her wearing a similar one as she stands beside her husband in a field, looking stoically at the camera in the fashion of her day.
Her life was more difficult than I can fathom. Her husband was a circuit-riding preacher, and, with their eight children, they moved from place to place, wherever he was needed, picking cotton on other people’s land, eating and sleeping and living in temporary houses borrowed from other people for the length of their stay.
She was a tiny woman, under five feet tall, weighing about 85 pounds, but she drug the huge sack, weighing more than she did by the time it was full of cotton, behind her as she worked her way up and down the rows in the sun. Singing.
My husband’s great grandmother, Nettie Stiewig, worked hard laboring in the fields, helped educate her children, cooked meals, did laundry, and somehow found time to create some of the most exquisite embroidered and crocheted linens I have ever seen.
But the story of her life, the one thing that I really know about her, is that she sang.
Up and down the rows, back bent, fingers raw to the point of bleeding, she worked in the heat and the dust with her husband and children toiling nearby.
But instead of complaining about the work, or wishing she could express her homemaker’s artistic heart in a house of her own, Grandma sang joyful, unending hymns to the Savior she loved.
In doing so, she left a legacy that lives still in the hearts of four generations after her.
We’ve been talking a lot in our Sunday School class about our personal stories, and how they are part of God’s big, eternal story. We all want to do that One Great Thing for Jesus, and wonder if, should the opportunity arise, we will recognize it, and be up for the challenge. Sometimes I think that One Great Thing may not be that obvious, even to ourselves, as we somehow trudge from day to day, task to task, waiting for “Something” to happen..
But when I see that apron, where I have lovingly hung it in my kitchen, I hear the message of her life, still powerful in the heart of a great-granddaughter-in-law who never even met her.
My work, through all the little moments and tasks of life, becomes worship when my heart is full of praise to Him.
The apron touches me, and fills me with the hope that the memory of my life which will echo through the generations after me will be the same as hers: “She worshipped Jesus while she worked. She sang.”
Martha
As a public service, we're providing a clock that will count down the number of shopping days until Christmas. Just click on this link and watch the seconds pass by. You're that much closer to the crowds and the craziness that rolls around every year about this time. As of this moment, the clock tells us we have 59 more days left. Fifty-nine days sounds like you still have a while, but you know how time flies! So, we have a suggestion. How about getting a jump on the whole thing and take care of a few people on your list right now.
Setting Up Stones would make a GREAT gift this Christmas! Just go to Setting Up Stones: A Parent's Guide to Making Your Home a Place of Worship at Christianbook.com and you can place your order now. With just a little bit of effort and consideration, this could be the best gift you've ever given.
Wives, give this book to your husband along with a little note about how they get so many things right that it might be about as useful as that funny-looking tie he got last year, but JUST IN CASE, he might read it anyway.
Husbands, along with the book include a single red rose, and tell your wife that it's your intention this year that you will work together to make home the kind of place she has always wanted it to be. (Now, THAT, gentlemen, is smooth!)
Grandparents, give the book to your kids along with a promise that you will never again dispense unsolicited parenting advice. (Let the book say it for you!)
Give copies of the book to your friends and neighbors. You KNOW how their kids are!
Seriously, now, we pray that Setting Up Stones will be a blessing to you and everyone you give it to this Christmas.
It all started when Tom Brady went down with a season-ending injury in Week 1, and New England became just another team. Even with Peyton Manning leading them, the Colts are just so-so. This afternoon, ESPN reported that Tony Romo is out for at least four weeks and, so, it doesn't look too good for the Cowboys. Just six weeks deep, this has already been an interesting NFL season. Last Monday night, I watched the Vikings upset the Saints, and literally flinched when Cedric Griffin delivered the hit of at least that week on the Saints' Billy Miller.
Cedric went to high school at Holmes in San Antonio, where Martha has taught 22 years, and both Annie and Matt, our kids, attended there with Ced. As a matter of fact, Matt loved the school so much, he's back there teaching English. Cedric played football with Matt for the Huskies, back in the program's glory days. Don't look now, it's not as pretty as it used to be. Matt, as an underclassman then, had the responsibility of being on the scout team in practice, running next week's opponent's offense to help school the studs starting on defense. Looking back, he'll tell you he never got hit harder in any game than Ced hit him in practice. Even though, as a cornerback, Ced was smaller that most of the guys on defense, he still could bring it.
Seeing Ced's big hit last week brought to my remembrance an article that was written about him while he was at the University of Texas.
Cedric Griffin: Breaking barriersBy Thomas Stepp, University of Texas Media Relations 
Late in the summer of 2001, Cedric Griffin walked into the Longhorns team meeting room for the first time as a freshman. At first glance, he may have appeared quiet, stern and almost unapproachable to his fellow freshmen, but what his new teammates, including his future roommate Matt Nordgren, may not have realized is how much there was to discover.
"Cedric is one of the toughest guys you'll ever try to get to know, but I think that once you do, you'll be very happy with who you meet," Nordgren said. "It's a special thing, because he doesn't let many people in. He's very loyal. I think that's one of his best qualities. When you do get in, he'll do anything for you, anything in the world."
Trust and loyalty are two of the biggest qualities in getting to know Cedric Griffin. It was engrained at an early age as he ended up doing much for himself because of strained relations with his family, most of which is in southern Mississippi.
At age 10, he and his mother made their way to San Antonio, and although he admits he has found it difficult to ask for help from anyone, he would eventually receive one offer he felt he could not turn down.
"I don't talk to my real parents that much," Griffin said. "I live with a family in San Antonio who asked if I wanted to stay with them -- the Johnsons. I stayed with them in high school, so they are my closest family. I would call them a mother and a father figure. I 'm really close to my natural mom, we just haven't gotten along too well all the time."
In the Johnson household, comprised of father Tony, mother Sandi and son Anthony, Griffin found true trust and loyalty. He credits them fully for his successes, especially Anthony, one of his teammates at Holmes High School in San Antonio, who became his best friend.
"If you're his friend, you've got a friend for life," Tony Johnson said. "He'll go to bat for you, he'll go fight for you, and if he hears someone saying something about you, he'll step right up and straighten that out quickly.
"He has a hard time expressing himself, but when he does, it really comes out. It can be hard for him to do that. I guess as a child, he had to hold his emotions in so much. He'll let you know that he loves you, and he's just so thankful. He's just that type of person."
Beginning as teammates in Pop Warner football, Anthony and Cedric hit it off, and he was gradually accepted into the Johnson family, starting with an introduction to Tony and continuing with rides home from practice.
Eventually, during Griffin's sophomore year in high school, the Johnsons would extend an invitation for him to live with them in order to provide stability to the special person they recognized him to be.
"They're really supportive and they came to all of my games," Griffin described. "Even today, whenever I want to go down there, I can do it and just relax. They call me all the time and are just a really loving family."
With the benefit of support from the Johnsons, one night in their house became a distinct turning point. The night he took the SAT, it was Anthony who stayed up with Cedric to help him prepare.
"We sat there with training manuals, and I helped him where I could," Anthony recalled. "He knew some of the areas, and I knew some, so I helped as much as I could, and he just put a lot of effort into it. He trusted me, and we just got it done."
When the results were in, Griffin was on his way to play for The University of Texas.
"That was the happiest I've ever been in my life, because I knew I was going to college." Griffin recalled. "I knew I was going to have a chance to do what I wanted to do, and I knew I could repay him if everything worked out right. He helped me get here, and he's the reason why I'm here, honestly."
However, Tony and Anthony are quick to turn that credit around. Tony remembers a time when someone asked if Cedric made it to Texas because of the Johnson family.
"No, I'm here because of Cedric," he told them. "I'm sitting in this stadium seat because Cedric got me the tickets."
"I was there because of Cedric, not the other way around," he then explained. "He's there on his own initiative. I wish people could understand fully how hard it was for him to get where he is. If someone else takes credit, that's just silly. He's there because of him."
Anthony and Cedric consider each other brothers, and with the Johnsons' support, Griffin was able turn his strong ability to focus to his passion -- the game of football. Tony says that even from age 11, Cedric had his goals in place.
"When he is focused on it, you can forget it," Tony said. "I don't care what it is. I've never seen him give up. I've told him there are challenges out there that sometimes you won't meet, but that doesn't mean you have to quit trying. You don't just shoot for the moon, you can shoot for another galaxy, and he does. Sometimes it's almost an obsession compared to people who don't have goals. It does amaze me."
"Since he was a little kid, Cedric's been committed to football," Anthony followed. "Whatever he puts his mind to, that's what he does. From Pop Warner to middle school to high school, he's excelled at it, and it's what he's always wanted to do. Now he wants to go to the NFL, and that's his next step."
The Johnson family could not be prouder of Griffin, and no one would know him better than Anthony, who has seen him from all sides as they grew up together.
"It's like day and night away from football," Anthony laughed. "He can be so goofy. A lot of people don't see that side, because he's all rough and tough on the football field, but in the house, he's just a silly person."
So by the help of one family, Griffin found a second. He arrived at Texas and was embraced by teammates Matt Nordgren, Brian Carter, Michael Huff and the coaching staff, most notably defensive backs coach Duane Akina.
Firmly placed on the right track, Griffin knows that one day he will return to his original home of Natchez, Miss. Despite all he has been through, he still views it as just that -- home.
"All of my family is there," explained Griffin. "I'm the only one out here right now, but it strengthens me. I want to go back to Mississippi, help my family out and go out there and live. That's where I'm from, and that's where I would like to be."
A youth and community studies major, Griffin's greatest hope is to be able to help those who are in need, especially those who have helped him.
"I want to do something with children or at a community house. I want to have a chance to give back. I hope I'm fortunate enough to give back to people who have done for me. They're the ones who have set up centers and things like that. I just want to go out into the community, see what the problems are and try to help people."
A recent problem everyone is familiar with in that region is the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina. Griffin received word early that his family was safe, but that did not deter him from wanting to help those he does not know.
"The little money I do have, I donate to the Red Cross," Griffin admitted. "It's hard times right now and everybody needs help, so I definitely want to do it."
Underneath the exterior is where you find the true Cedric Griffin. When asked to describe himself, he had this to say:
"I really feel like I'm a sensitive person, and a caring and loving person, but a lot of people don't believe that just because of the way they see me. Football brings your other personality out because you want to be mean, you want to try to be hard. That's what a lot of people perceive me as, but I'm just a really cool, caring guy to tell you the truth. That's what I think I am."
And he's not the only one.
We got to see a lot of Cedric and Anthony (AJ) back in their high school days. They both faithfully attended the weekly Fellowship of Christian Athletes' meetings that Matt led and we were adult sponsors. They showed up at our house for parties and get-togethers. Sean Jensen of the Pioneer Press wrote an article about Ced since he became a Minnesota Viking. In the article, Sandi Johnson said that the two boys were "like twins." And, that was exactly how they acted, except for the fact that AJ had sandy hair and freckles and was about four inches taller. But the Johnsons made certain that Ced was a part of their family. They provided all the clothes and school supplies that he needed, and the encouragement and discipline that kept him going. Now in his third year in the NFL, he can look back at his time as a part of the Johnson family for providing that impetus to persevere and succeed.
In Sean Jensen's article, Ced says of his life's goal, "It's just all about being a man. Just manning up and taking ownership of what you made. I know I have to be responsible for my actions." That's a valuable lesson to learn. And it manifests itself in many more ways than one big hit.
Posted by
Martha & Greg Singleton
12:50 PM
It’s one of those areas of controversy within the church that causes discussions confrontations, arguments, and, heaven forbid (and it does!), finger-pointing and judgmental attitudes. And it’s all about the kids.
So, as Christians, what do we do with Halloween? Can we ignore it and pretend it’s not there? That’s pretty difficult when on the evening of the 31st kids in costume are banging on our doors demanding candy. I’m sure, no matter how hard you try to keep that undercover, your kids are going to notice that kind of gimmick. I found out, anyway, that it was never a good idea to try to ignore troublesome situations when it came to my own family.
Halloween, without a doubt, has pagan roots. Over 2,000 years ago, the Druids celebrated their new year on November 1. The night before was dedicated to driving out the evil spirits so that the new year would be prosperous and productive. Costumes, bonfires and animal sacrifices, even of the human variety, were common practices. In 835 AD, Pope Gregory IV reclaimed November 1 for Christianity, proclaiming it to be the official All Saints’ Day.
To address all the opinions about acknowledging Halloween would take far too much space on this blog. And, I really don’t think it’s my job to convince anyone to accept my position anyway. I would like to suggest a few alternatives, though, that could turn a typically unholy day into something that actually can bring God glory and bring your family together.
NO FEAR
Since the primary goal of Halloween is to inflict at least some measure of fear, why not redeem the time to discuss with your family what God says about fear.
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” II Timothy 1:7 (NLT)
“Don’t be afraid, my people. Be glad now and rejoice, for the Lord has done great things.” Joel 2:21 (NLT)
CELEBRATE THE SAINTS!
All Saints’ Day is a great time to remember those who have remarkably lived their lives for God. Talk with your family about those in the Bible, throughout church history and even in your own ancestry.
You might, also, want to read an article that appeared in Christianity Today, written by Harold Myra. It’s entitled “Is Halloween a Witches' Brew?: Or Have Christians Been Spooked Out of Celebrating A Part of Their Rich Tradition?” http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2000/octoberweb-only/42.0.html
So there’s a good start! And, now it’s your turn. Is there anything your family has done that has brought positive light to a dark day in October? Let us know!
Let’s hear it for the oldest guy on Facebook. I believe this is worth a rousing round of applause, if not a standing ovation.
For those of you of my generation who may be living in a cave, Facebook is an “online social network” that boasts over 100,000,000 active members worldwide. My initial reaction to the whole concept was founded from my normal overblown conspiratorial point of view. I was certain that this would bring about the eventual ruination of life as we know it. More and more, as I heard people talk about it, my attitude shifted to smugness. Facebook was too silly for me. I would never lower myself to that level.
The very coolest of the marketing folks began telling me that this was an excellent way of networking. With a book coming out, our presence on Facebook would give us access to an abundance of potential readers. I reasoned that we just didn’t need any of this new fly-by-night technology. We’ll do just fine with the traditional methods of reaching people, thank you very much.
Those Facebook people are pretty smart. After all, it does have its roots at Harvard. You can’t access anyone’s Facebook page unless you’re a member. So, when someone referred me to some information that could be found on their Facebook profile, I was left completely out of the loop. Denied the free flow of information, about six months ago, I was forced to initiate a covert entry into the world of Facebook. I joined, but I reasoned that if I left my profile absolutely blank, nobody would notice I was there.
Somehow, my friend Joe in Tennessee, found me under some online rock. I received an e-mail from Facebook that said Joe had “added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Joe in order for you to be friends on Facebook.”
So what do you do with that? Joe is my friend, and I’ve really missed seeing him since he and his family left San Antonio. To ignore him online before 100,000,000 people would be absolutely rude. But I wasn’t ready to come out of hiding yet, so I tucked the e-mail back into my mailbox until I decided what my participation in this online phenomenon was going to look like.
I cringed when a few days later I found another “friendship request” in my mailbox. This was from Sarah. I’ve known her since she was a little girl, and I officiated at her wedding a couple of years ago. That absolutely obligates somebody to publicly declare friendship, I do believe. So I confirmed the fact that Sarah was, indeed, my friend. And while I was at it, I thought it was only proper that I acknowledge Joe, too.
Within a couple of hours I checked my e-mail, only to find out that Sarah had left me a message on my otherwise blank Facebook page. She was just letting me know how happy she was that she was my very first Facebook friend. Sentiments like that just make you feel good.
And, that opened up the floodgates. Within the next couple of days, about 50 other folks just wanted to be my friend. Some of them I hadn’t heard from in a long time, and it was great to find out what they were up to. Others invited me to join special interest Facebook groups they were involved in, and some shared pictures of their families. I was introduced to “friends-of-friend”, and further expanded that phenomenon known as “six degrees of Singleton.” Despite my early rants, chides and misgivings, I was now beginning to feel just fine in this place.
Community is a great thing. It’s what Jesus had in mind when He laid out the groundwork for the first church. Being with people you know and love, depending on each other, and declaring your commitment to each other is a comfortable thing. But it’s also challenging, in a very good way. That commitment is sometimes tested and you’re called on to be accountable or to hold others accountable. But even that is worth it.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who was martyred because he resisted Adolph Hitler wrote: “Because God has already laid the only foundation of our fellowship, because God has bound us together in one body with other Christians in Jesus Christ, long before we entered into common life with them, we enter into that common life not as demanders but as thankful recipients. We thank God for what He has done for us. We thank God for giving us brethren who live by His call, by His forgiveness, and His promise.”
I’m thankful for others that God has brought into my life, in fellowship with Him and each other. Because of these people, because of you, my life is rich and I am blessed!
His name was Peter, he was seven years old and he was on his way back home to New York City. That’s about all we knew about that little boy from what he told us, but what we witnessed told plenty more.
During our recent trip to the East Coast, we spent a total of about twenty-four hours in an airport or on one of a variety of styles of aircraft we sampled. When you’re stuck in an airport, watching the “Departures” monitor while your flight time gets pushed back further and further, or when you’re on a runway waiting for your turn to take off, you have two choices. You can let the whole situation eat you alive, or you can sit back, make the best of it and people-watch. I usually choose the latter.
There is nowhere else you can go and observe such a wide swatch of life. People are coming and going, interacting and retreating into a shell, and enjoying each other’s company and getting on each other’s frazzled nerves. I always find the parent-child encounters to be the most interesting.
That’s how I met Peter. He was a bit small for his age, but he made up for it with his brilliance. He, apparently, was an airport observer like me, but he had the guts to say exactly what I was thinking. That provoked more than one “shhhhhhhhhhhhh” from his attentive Mom. Dad disappeared for a while, and I just assumed he was seeking an escape from the boredom. After a few minutes, though, he came back with a package under his arm, and he tossed it to Peter. “Here you go, Buddy,” he said. “Check this out!”
I immediately recognized the contents of Peter’s gift. It was a copy of the brand new Athlon College Football Annual that I had been thumbing through myself, earlier when I was at the magazine rack. You would have thought that Dad had uncovered buried treasure and placed it in his son’s hands. I have never seen such a display of unbridled enthusiasm.
Peter got down on his knees, using his chair as a podium, and began to drink in the contents of the magazine. The cover itself elicited his first observations.
“They have L.S.U. rated #9?! That’s ridiculous!” he exclaimed. “They’re the defending national champs!”
“They lost a lot of good players, Pete,” said Dad.
“How about number 72?”
“That was Glenn Dorsey,” said Dad. “Gone!”
“OH MY GOSH! He was the best defensive player in college football!”
“He’s with the Kansas City Chiefs now.”
Peter began daydreaming about his NFL team now. “I wish he was wearing New York Jets green.”
He opened the magazine and continued. “Do you think Florida can win it all, Dad?”
“They have some great players, like the Heisman Trophy winner.”
“Tim Tebow! What a great quarterback!”
I looked over at Peter’s Mom and she was smiling.
“He really knows his stuff,” I said.
“We really didn’t try to make him that way. He and his dad just talk about it and he drinks it in.”
Peter stood up quickly and raised his 200-page magazine high over his head. “Dad, I can’t wait until we can sit down together and read every bit of this!”
Could I ever identify with Peter! I had had the same reaction when I was his age and my dad brought me a new sports magazine. And I can remember when Matt and I would pore over every page of the new Texas Football issue together. I realize now that it’s never really the sport itself that makes those moments so memorable. Peter, Matt and I were passionate about it because it was an opportunity that we got to spend with our dads, sharing thoughts and ideas with each other. Sports aren’t the connection. Relationship is.
So, when it comes to passing on our faith to our children, we earn the privilege with the time we’ve spent sharing life together. Matt told me just the other day, “I don’t think that, at the time, I always got what we were talking about. But, I knew that if it was important enough for you to spend time with me talking about it, then it really must have been important.”
Do you want your kids to share your passion for Christ? Do you want them to be attentive to what you have to say about your faith? Here’s a simple equation - time = priority. Make time to talk to your kids. Your stories reveal to them your heart.
Greg
“Woo-Hoo!” I exclaimed as we left the restaurant, giving Greg a playful punch on the arm. “Show me to the shoe department!”
We had just been treated to a lovely dinner by our son, celebrating the first paycheck of his adult, working-man career. Our youngest was officially on his own, and I was thrilled for him, and very proud.
Parenting is a task that involves constant transitions, some of which are much more comfortable than others. We rejoice at that first word and first step, at drivers’ licenses and first dates, but we also struggle as those little feet disappear into that Pre-K classroom, or as we drive away from a college campus, leaving that big-eyed freshman sitting forlornly on the side of a dorm room bed.
This is the time of year when my senior students begin to express frustration with their parents, and their parents wonder whatever happened to their wonderful, compliant, cooperative teen. That’s because they are suddenly in the throes of one of those painful transitions, the natural tug-of-war involved in the transfer of power as children take on new privileges and responsibilities as young adults.
We’ve covered the Golden Rule and table manners and speed limit and following distance, and our kids don’t even need our help with car payments or groceries any more.
And yet, they are no less in our thoughts, no less in our prayers, no less the objects of our love and longing for all of God’s best, than they were when we snuggled their downy little heads and rocked them to sleep as babies.
But that night, I lay in bed blankly realizing that, indeed, I would not be checking to see if that silver Ford truck was in the driveway when I awoke in the night, nor would Dr. Pepper be a permanent part of the grocery list. My role as a mother had once again changed.
As I waited for sleep to come, I also realized that, while one phase of our parenting had ended, there was a whole new era open for exploration, one that will require no less love, no less commitment, and no less earnest seeking of Godly wisdom than the ones before, as we set out to be a resource and encouragement to our adult children.
Knowing how closely I hold my own children in my heart, I find great comfort in the thought that my Heavenly Father’s love for me will never be diminished, either. And I find a great challenge in learning to parent well as seasons change in a relationship that simply does not end.
Martha
It makes a huge difference, you know.
I only had my Daddy for seventeen years, but I feel the power of his impact on my life every day, even 42 years later. He was never too busy to talk to me, to read to me, to swing me around or give me a wild ride around the back yard, clinging to an old bedspread. He let me watch him work, and hand him tools, and I was happy just to sit beside him watching thunderheads build in the distance on hot summer nights, or stand at the window watching snowflakes fall. But the most amazing, life-altering thing my father did for me is this: he told me who I was. Over and over, in words and deeds, he told me that I am capable, I am honorable, I am worthy of being loved, and because I believed him, I was free to try to meet his challenge to live a life unafraid to give love.
My children have an amazing father, too. For 28 years, I have watched Greg invest all of the very best of himself into Annie and Matt. No matter what demands business or ministry might place on his time, his first effort, his best creativity, went into the priority of their lives. He provided for their physical needs, but even more, he saw to it that they had access every moment to his attention and his participation in what interested them. Whether it was watching the Muppet Movie 300 times with Annie, shooting baskets or reading sports books with Matt, or never missing a play or a game for either of them, they always had the great gift of their dad’s joyful, approving presence. As he planned wonderful trips, as he disciplined and taught, as he intentionally began conversations about God and life and truth and their roles in God’s world, Greg, too, gave his children the amazing gift. Today, as young adults, they are people of faith, sensitive to the needs of those around them, filled with the courage of their convictions, confident of God’s calling on their lives, living with great joy, in large part because their father told them who they are.
Sadly, I know far too many young people who have not had the benefit of a Godly, committed father to tell them who they are. It breaks my heart to see these kids struggle to figure out who they are, to wrestle with the question of their own value, because their fathers are absent, or, worse, abusive. That need to be valued, to be taught, to be challenged, and to be enjoyed is what I believe drives so many of our teens today to make the unfortunate decisions that send their lives into tailspins.
But the wonderful news is that, no matter what the circumstances in our homes, no matter what our age or the situations of life right now, we all have a Father, and He has told us in no uncertain terms who we are.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
“But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name. ” John 1:12
“And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.” Galatians 4:6
On this Fathers Day weekend, our prayer is that we all will listen anew as our wonderful Abba tells us who we are in Him.
Martha
Yep, it’s true. I’m going to be somebody’s grandpa. It really seems difficult to believe until I’m standing in front of the mirror to shave in the mornings. And then I realize I guess I really am old enough after all.
When Annie first called us to give us the news, there was a flurry of conversation between Annie, Martha and myself about who would get to tell whom about the upcoming blessed event. After all the territory was established, I got to tell the girl who gives me my coffee at Starbucks, and a total stranger who was in line in front of me at the grocery store checkout. Thus, the pecking order was set, and I understood completely where grandpas ranked.
Ever since the news broke, I’ve had a lot of people offer their congratulations, and a few more who found it necessary to inform me that it means I’m really getting old. But, most of them asked me one question – what is the baby going to call me. I hadn’t even considered that until so many folks started asking, but I soon decided it was worth my attention.
“Grandpa” is much too pedestrian, and “grandfather,” much too formal. “Gramps” is a sitcom character and “Pops” runs a bait stand at the coast. We can’t use “Poppa” because Martha and I both called our grandfathers that. I searched the internet and found a website that exhausted all the possible names for grandfathers, even allowing for people to make their own suggestions. In Norway, it’s “bestpappa.” That might be a bit pretentious, but I like the sentiment. “Big Daddy” could be a 50’s beatnik or, at least, a constant reminder that I needed to stick with my diet. “BopBop?” Isn’t that an anime cartoon character? “Bubba?” Too redneck. The animal names listed, like “Granddog,” “Fish,” “DuckDuck,” and “Turtle” were just too ridiculous to even consider. Then, there was a whole list of them that described unflattering personality traits - “Grumpy,” “Chippy,” “Grunt,” “Kinky” and “Honey” among them.
Right now, I’m leaning toward one that Annie came up with – “G-Diddy.” It’s very cool and current, and it definitely makes a statement. The only problem I foresee is that I would have to buy some expensive sunglasses and a new wardrobe, and trick out my Expedition in order to live up to the hype.
Actually, I’m not going to worry about the whole name thing any more. I’ve decided that the baby will call me whatever he/she wants to call me. Grandfathers rarely have a choice in the matter. One thing I am concerned about, though, is what that grandchild will call me fifty years from now. When that baby grows up and is about to become a grandparent for the first time, I want to be remembered fondly. I want them to remember that I was always joyful and that I was a source of encouragement and strength. I want them to recall my prayers for them, my kind words, and the fact that I was always willing to listen. I want the words “steadfast,” “gracious,” “wise,” and “loving” to be synonymous with my name. I want my grown-up grandchild to remember my passion and my faith. I want to leave that kind of legacy.
It's available! Our first book, Setting Up Stones, is now ready for online pre-orders. It will still be a couple of months before it's delivered, but you can purchase it now and save a little bit of money. With gas prices the way they are today, that's not a bad thing. The way I figure it, if you buy forty copies of Setting Up Stones at the pre-order discount, you can probably fill your tank once and have plenty of gifts to give your friends and family. You can order the book from amazon.com or christianbook.com. When you go there, search for either "Setting Up Stones" or "Martha and Greg Singleton" and it will take you right to it. If that seems like a lot of trouble just to get a book, then all you have to do is look over to the left-hand column of this page, and under "LINKS", click on "Order SETTING UP STONES from amazon.com" or "Order SETTING UP STONES from christianbook.com". Thank you all for your love and support!
A few years back, Hillary Clinton usurped an old African proverb and wrote that it “takes a village to raise a child.” I never read her book, so I’m not certain about the assumptions that she made. I can draw my own conclusions from the theme, though. Without hesitation, I know the responsibility of rearing a child lies solely in the hands of the parents. But, I also know that in every child’s life there are others that have the opportunity to make a life-changing impact. So, to say it “takes a village” is much too institutional, too impersonal for my experience. Besides that immediate family, it takes grandparents, aunts and uncles, teachers, pastors, coaches and friends to mold and shape a child’s perspective and decisions. It takes those who are just as committed to that child’s well-being as the parents themselves to come along side and provide love, encouragement and support at every turn along the way.
I know this because I lived it. And, yesterday, I attended the memorial service for someone who, for every day that I’ve lived on this earth, loved me unfailingly and poured herself into my life. Ethel was not my mother, or any blood relation to me at all, but she hardly ever missed any ballgame I played, any concert I sang, and was in the congregation for many sermons I preached. She was there when I graduated, and when I got married. She was at the hospital when both of my children were born, then went to all of their football games and concerts. She sat with me at my Dad’s bedside as he went to be with the Lord. As my own mom stated so well when she spoke at the memorial service yesterday, our families were so intertwined that “sometimes it was hard to know whose kids belonged to whom.” Other than the occasional “You did so well!”, or “I’m so proud of you!”, Ethel didn’t have a lot to say about our connection, but then again, she really didn’t have to. I knew that she loved me as much as she did her own brood of five, and that she was completely committed to the fulfillment of God’s work in my life. She lived her faith in a way that let me know that the greatness of God stretched beyond the walls of my own home. Her life reinforced all that my parents were teaching me, and verified its validity.
Sometimes we get so caught up in our own agendas that we forget that those agendas are simply the starting point of our mission, and not the entirety of it. God’s call on our lives stretches far beyond the walls of our home. He has placed within our realm of influence many others to whom we have a responsibility. If we prescribe to the idea that “it takes a village to raise a child,” then that responsibility is faceless and too easily passed on to someone else. I am called to a commitment to others. God has crafted your days to bring you to a place of influence in someone’s life. It’s much more authentic than a village – it’s you!
I have several friends who are graduates of the prestigious school of music at the University of North Texas. Whenever that group gets together, inevitably, they begin to swap stories about a real-life Dallas-area musician who happens to embody all the traits of the stereotypical musician’s caricature – an oblivious, vacant airhead with absolutely nothing on his mind but his music. Durwood is, indeed, a legend.
One day, he was packing his instruments into his van for a gig* he was playing in Amarillo, 300 miles away, up in the Texas Panhandle. Durwood, of course, had given no previous consideration to the logistics of his trip. So, when he saw an 18-wheeler passing by with the name of a company and “Amarillo, Texas” emblazoned on the side, he decided it would be a good thing if he just followed the truck all the way to his destination.
Durwood’s first clue that something was amiss should have been that the trip was taking a lot longer than it should have. But, he really got suspicious when all the road signs were in Spanish. He had followed that truck all the way down into Mexico. Amarillo was now about 600 miles back in the other direction. Durwood was not a man of vision.
I would define “vision” as “knowing who we are and where we’re going.” Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” We’ve often heard this scripture used as a rallying cry for a floundering church. It has motivated congregations to re-focus and set specific goals for worship and ministry. What would it look like if we applied the truth found in that verse in our homes and families? What’s the specific vision that you have for your family?
Prayerfully seek God to determine what He wants your family’s vision to be. That can be as foundational as the attitudes that He wants reflected in your home. And, that’s really a great place to start. As you work to enact those basic characteristics into the structure of your home, you will most likely see some other things begin to happen, too.
In Proverbs 29:18, we are familiar with the King James translation of the word “perish.” Other translations probably more accurately define it as “unrestrained,” “uncontrolled,” or “running wild.” Does that sound familiar? Every home has had at least a few days when “unrestrained” would be a nice way to describe the atmosphere there. When a family has a definite vision in place for how they should look and what their goals are, those days are not as frequent and are more manageable when they do occur.
God’s vision for your home is not only a general idea about how you conduct yourselves. Your family vision also will allow each person under your roof to begin to blossom. It provides fertile ground where each individual can discover his unique talents and abilities. It brings into focus a picture of what each person has to offer to others there, and creates a lab where they can refine those gifts in order to touch their entire world.
Discover God’s vision for your family! Work together to make it a reality. Be determined to establish it in the lives of each individual and the entire household. And, then, watch God bring order and purpose there.
* “job,” in the musician’s lexicon; a shout-out to all my musician friends
“I don’t care what you do as long as you keep the kids quiet so I can watch the game.”
That sentiment will be ringing out in homes throughout the country as men everywhere settle in at 5:18 CST Sunday for the kickoff of Super Bowl XLII. Okay, I realize it’s not the most wholesome attitude for any dad who figures to be in the running for Father Of The Year, but, I must admit that I used to occasionally fall into that trap. Come on, now, and be honest. All the rest of you have, too.
So, if we hope to remain beloved to our children, highly esteemed by our wife, and still savor every snap of the football game of the year, what plan should we enact to get the job done? I have some experience in this arena, so as I present my life story, sit back and learn, Grasshopper.
I love sports. Actually, I’m passionate about sports. I have been since my earliest memories as a child, probably because my Dad loved sports so much. When we were blessed with kids in our home, I had two options. I could draw the battle lines and forever be challenged by the inevitable interruptions as I tried to revel in the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat. Or, I could share my passion with my kids. I chose the latter, and, thankfully, it paid off.
Annie was born September 21, 1980, at the Methodist Hospital in San Antonio, which happened to overlook the Oak Hills Country Club, site of the Texas Open. Was it mere coincidence that labor and delivery had a large picture widow that gave a perfect view of the 18th hole? I think not. Annie’s first introduction to this world was a large gallery cheering Lee Trevino on to the championship.
The first gift I purchased for my daughter was a tiny pair of Houston Oilers’ pajamas, and her first Sunday afternoons were spent propped on a pillow in front of the TV in those pajamas as we watched Earl Campbell, Kenny “Snake” Stabler, and Billy “White Shoes” Johnson, march into the NFL playoffs. I didn’t think it could get any better, but then I had a son.
Matt’s bedtime stories were actually about a fictional sports hero I made up who was somewhat of a blend of Jim Thorpe, Superman, and Billy Graham. He always said and did the right things, played all sports and won almost every game in some spectacular fashion. And, he loved Jesus! It must have made some kind of impact, because, in his athletic career, I do believe Matt tried every sport that was out there.
I tried to make the games I was interested in become events for the kids. If the Spurs were in the playoffs, and I wanted to be sure to see the game on television, all of us would plan a family party complete with decorations and arena food. We went to as many games in person as we could, and did all the things that would make it memorable for Annie and Matt.
I got to live out one of my dreams when I worked for a professional football team back in the days of the United States Football League, when football was fun. I should thank our team's head coach, Jim Bates, for making pro football a family affair, encouraging coaches, players and staff to include their families whenever possible. So I took Martha and the kids to work with me as often as I could. Annie will tell you about her memories of running around the track at Alamo Stadium with Jim's son, Jeremy, who is now the quarterbacks coach for the Denver Broncos. Players passed Matt around like he was the football. And Jim entertained the kids with his dead-on Donald Duck imitation.
I can’t tell you how it thrilled me as my kids grew to love sports, too. The memories that we’ve been able to share together are the dividends of the time that I spent passing my passion on...
...In eighth grade, Annie took the skills from our driveway basketball games and, out of the blue, told me, “I think I’m going to try out for the team.” So she laid aside her passion, drama, and worked harder than I’d ever seen her work to make the basketball team. She did it, and even ended up her one-year career as a starter.
...Most people who casually know Annie would be shocked to find out that she’s been an official game statistician at courtside and in the dugout. She’s such a lady that they can’t believe she has that jock side to her.
...I was thrilled when she called me from college to tell me that, as the yearbook sports editor, she had received the top award among all the colleges in Oklahoma.
...Nobody ever worked harder as an athlete than Matt did. He never turned down a challenge. Undersized as a lineman on one of the top high school football programs in the state of Texas, he not only succeeded, he was the team captain.
...He led his school’s Fellowship of Christian Athletes in things that were more important than the game itself. Those guys have gone on to win Olympic gold medals, play in the NFL and play professional baseball, but they still look to Matt for counsel and leadership.
...I can always count on getting a phone call from him when there’s a game on TV that we’ll both be watching.
...Annie and Robbie’s phone call from the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ game one Monday night, just to make sure I’d look for them on TV
...Annie, the middle school drama teacher, telling me, “I actually think I could coach a middle school football team.”
...Matt coaching football clinics in California
...the memories go an and on.
Whether it’s sports, music, cars, or your faith, share your passion with your kids. It just might become their passion, too.
Your mom was right. Always say “please” and “thank you” – especially “thank you.” And, whether she realized it or not though, that seemingly insignificant act of saying “thank you” has far more impact than simply socially acceptable behavior.
We’re one week into a new year and it’s a great time to establish something in our homes that will sincerely affect the lives of every member our family. Thankfulness doesn’t just happen. It’s a choice we make and an attitude we cultivate, just like its opposite, ungratefulness. Then, as we make thankfulness a habit in our homes, it becomes not just a conditioned reflex, but a condition of the heart. Thankfulness prepares the way for worship. It causes unity to blossom. It yields peace and encourages fruitfulness. It forges courage and confidence and builds hope.
Here’s an idea you might want to initiate in your home. It works whether there’s one or one hundred and it just might change the whole atmosphere in your house. Post-it notes are a staple item at home and in the office. They come in all sizes and colors, and there’s just something about seeing them that just calls for action!
For this purpose, the small size post-it works just fine, and you should provide plenty of them for each family member in their own special color. Just write on each note one thing that you’re thankful for, and stick it on the refrigerator, the wall, the door or anywhere else that it’s sure to be seen. Don’t worry, they don’t harm the paint! And, don’t stop there. Keep being thankful and keep posting notes. Be thankful for people, for things, and for situations. Encourage everybody to participate, and if somebody seems a bit reluctant, start covering their bedroom door or walls with notes about why you’re thankful for them. It’s almost a sure thing that they’ll feel the need to join in. After about three or four days, collect them in an envelope and save them for a later time when everybody can sit down together and remember everything you were thankful for.
Here’s a twist that your family will enjoy. Select one family member as a special target. Take about 30 minutes and have everybody cover that person with post-its about why they’re thankful for them.
Sometimes it’s the simple things that make the biggest changes! May God bless your home with thankfulness in 2008!
Martha & Greg
