Hebrews 12:1b
…let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

I hate running, and yet I run. Well, I don’t know if that’s right, because when I say that I run, it sounds like I have been running, amd currently running, and will continue to run well into the future. So, let me rephrase. I’m starting to run. Yep, that’s better.

The reason I’m starting to run is because I got this crazy idea that it would be fun to run a 5k. The problem with this plan is very simple: I hate running. So there will be no “fun” in the running of anything, whether it’s a 5k or to my neighbor’s yard as I chase their dogs away from the trees in my yard. So, how’s a guy like me supposed to get anything positive out of verse like the one above? Continue reading

Did you miss Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, or Part VIII?

I couldn’t believe myself! How could I think something; no, even worse, FEEL something like that? How could I be relieved at the sight of my dead father? Even after all these years, I was still a bad son. I hadn’t changed one bit! I was still selfish, still thinking of my own life instead of how I could help solve the problem.

I hated my father! He was doing it again – manipulating me, even from the grave. He was making me feel guilty for trying to live my life. How could he rule my life even after he was dead? I resented the way he could still control me. Hadn’t he ruined my life enough?

I stopped myself, and realized he was gone. He wasn’t coming back, and I regretted that. I regretted all the times I had given up on him, cracked jokes about him, even denied him. I began to cry, not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t stop myself. After all he had done to me, I missed him. I couldn’t hate him, no matter how much I wanted to or how hard I tried. Looking at him in the casket, I remember thinking that he wasn’t such a bad guy, and that I hadn’t had it all that bad.

For just a moment, I forgot about the scars. I didn’t remember all the unfulfilled promises and the silent nights around the dinner table. I remembered the mornings and the peaceful hours before supper, and the way he had been during those times. After all, he was my father, and I loved him.