For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:21, ESV)

Dear Jack and Bennett,

A few weeks ago, I had a series of bad dreams that woke me up at 3 a.m. This isn’t totally out of the ordinary, though the concentration of bad dreams was unusual. I’m typically able to quiet my mind and doze back to sleep, but Monday was not one of those mornings.

You all, however, seemed to sleep just fine.

Bennett, you were the first to greet me. You woke up on your own, which is—usually—a sign that you’ll be in a good mood.

I had just returned from the grocery store with coffee—because, of course, we were out of coffee—and was laser-focused on getting that going before launching into the long list of weekday morning tasks to get you out the door to school.

And as I turned, not to say, “Good morning,” like any decent human being, you, with a wry, toothy grin that suggested you were up to no good, said, “Good morning, dada.”

For a moment, I looked around, trying to figure out what trap you had set for me, eventually realizing that there was none.

You were simply happy to see me and had not a worry in the world.

The difference between us was jarring.

I stared as you dragged the barstool over to the counter so that you could be sure that we would add *just the right amount* of granola to your yogurt.

“Dada, can I help you?”

That moment was just enough to make me realize that maybe what was consuming my attention wasn’t all that important. They were, after all, things beyond my reach and not yet here.

I realized that I had fallen into one of Screwtape’s traps:1

We want him to be in the maximum uncertainty, so that his mind will be filled with contradictory pictures of the future, every one of which arouses hope or fear. There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human’s mind against [God]. [God] wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.

You, on the other hand, have no worries except for the present concern of whether you could help make your own breakfast. It made me think that if our circumstances were different, you wouldn’t be any less happy as long as you woke up to me, your mom, and Jack.

I was stuck wondering what was going to happen to me.

That same day, your mom sent me a podcast episode titled Why You Never Have Enough Time, and it became very apparent to me that God was trying to teach me something about attention.

(The devil definitely doesn’t want you to listen to this^ episode.)

My general takeaways from the episode were that there are two reasons someone feels like they never have enough time: They struggle with being present, and they struggle with emotional overwhelm (which just might be the same thing).

There is something about being present that seems to expand time. When you’re enjoying what you’re doing or locked into a flow state, you’re typically not thinking about what’s next on the list.

I’ve always thought that Jesus said the kingdom of heaven belongs to children because of their innocence or the general humility with which children approach the world. Those things are probably true on some level, but I’m starting to believe it’s more so because children live in the present, which, as Screwtape warns Wormwood, “… is the point at which time touches eternity” (definitely not where the devil wants you). I suppose that is a form of humility, though, since it’s ultimately a recognition that there’s very little we can control about the future.

Just like that, I was back in the kitchen making breakfast with you. Right where I was supposed to be.

Despite what anyone might lead you to believe, there is so little about the future that we can control. It is not insignificant that immediately before telling us not to be anxious about tomorrow, the Gospel of Matthew warns us about where we’re storing up our treasures (Matthew 6).

It’s easier to live in the future than the present because the present actually requires something of you now: time, energy, attention to a relationship, a conversation, a cross to bear.

Love,
Dad

P.S. When I feel anxious, I pray these words from St. John Henry Newman’s hymn, Lead Kindly Light:

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on.
Keep Thou my feet;
I do not ask to see the distant scene;
one step enough for me.

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1. I’m no expert; I’m just an amateur fitness and health enthusiast. That said, you’ll probably find me pretty opinionated for a guy without credentials.

2. This post isn’t intended to be professional advice (blah, blah, blah); it’s just a recap of my experience setting New Year’s resolutions around health and fitness over the last decade-plus.

Sometime after college and shortly after getting married, I gained a bunch of weight. I had already been on the heavier side through college, but it had been somewhat managed by college lacrosse, intramurals, club sports, and general activity.

If you’ve only known me in the last decade, you’ll enjoy this picture circa 2011…

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You’re welcome.

(You can find a more recent photo if you keep scrolling.)

Around the start of the next year, I resolved to lose weight. The short story is that I ordered the P90X (s/o to Tony Horton) DVDs, completed both the exercise and diet program to a T, and lost a bunch of weight in the process.

Completing that program taught me a few invaluable lessons:

First, that I did have the self-discipline to complete a multi-month health and fitness program on my own. After you do it once, it gets easier the next time.

Second, that the nutrition aspect of health is at least as important—if not more important—than the exercise. Before that, I always thought being healthy was more about increasing my activity level. Turns out, diet is the 80% of the 80/20.

And lastly, getting healthy is one of the single greatest things one can do to influence one's well-being. If you had asked me whether I felt good prior to losing that weight, I probably would have said yes. But when I actually lost the weight, I realized how poorly I had previously felt. It’s like getting that first good night’s sleep after having a baby—you had no idea how tired you were until you finally felt rested.

There are all sorts of things I hadn’t learned, too... I was scared to eat carbs for years after losing weight. I lived as if working out wasn’t worthwhile unless it was super intense, and similarly, if my diet wasn’t “perfectly” calculated, I figured I might as well binge on whatever’s in the pantry.

Fortunately, over the past fifteen years, I’ve become (a little) more balanced and have come to realize that carbs aren’t evil, that a few days off my routine doesn’t mean I failed at life, and that rest is crucial. Cheers to #maturing!

15 Principles for Health and Fitness New Year’s Resolutions

What I’ve outlined below are a few of the things I wish I had known when I was just getting started. Some of these are tactical; others are philosophical. Both matter.

The real game is formation: learning to become the kind of person who makes the healthy choice more often than not.

If like me, you’re staring down a year of health and fitness goals, I hope this helps…

1. Dieting is simple; don’t overcomplicate it.

If you want to lose weight, you need to be in a caloric deficit. If you want to gain weight, you need to be in a caloric surplus.

It’s pretty much that simple.

It took me wayyyyy longer than it should have to cut (unhealthy) weight my first go around because I overcomplicated things. I obsessed over what was “optimal” (as if it needed to be) instead of just getting started with something sustainable.

Do something that feels sustainable and iterate along the way. Choose a lifting program, walk at least 10,000 steps a day, and eat fewer calories than you expend.

It’s not easy, but it is simple. Hard ≠ complicated.

2. Track your calories.

Unless you’re an expert, you probably can’t track your calories on vibes. And honestly, I generally low-key judge anyone who tells me they’re trying to lose weight but not tracking their food intake. I’ve just never met anyone who has lost significant weight and kept it off for any meaningful amount of time without tracking what they eat.

Fortunately, there are many tools available to help with this. My favorite is Macrofactor (not an affiliate code), and it’s probably my favorite app across any industry. Another popular one that many of my friends have had success with is MyFitnessPal.

Macrofactor is way better (see, this is what I meant when I said I was opinionated), but the point isn’t Macrofactor; the point is awareness around how much you’re eating.

3. Accountability is a cheat code.

I’ve met weight and fitness goals on my own in the past, but some of the best progress I’ve ever made was through a program called Dad Unit with a few friends. This particular program runs 3 months, and you complete it as a cohort (or “unit”… s/o Team Helo). Knowing that a bunch of guys were ready to call you out if you didn’t “check the boxes” that day was highly motivating.

Structure + Accountability = Results

It’s also 1) more fun to do things like this with friends, and 2) is an opportunity to make new (better, more fit) friends.

(As an aside, there’s also a Mom Unit.)

4. The best time to start is now. And the best time to work out is in the morning.

It doesn’t matter what you have coming up—just get started. There’s always some upcoming holiday or event or trip that will make things challenging. I almost didn’t sign up for Dad Unit because it ran from mid-October to early January, which meant I’d be cutting through the holiday gauntlet of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve.

But Shawn (Dad Unit) helped me reframe it as 4 days of overeating (plus my anniversary) versus 4 months of overeating. Despite eating my chubby little heart out for those four days over the holiday season, I still dropped 15lbs throughout the program. Consistency > perfection.

The best time to work out is in the morning. Full stop. It’s a hill I’ll die on. Mornings are less likely to get hijacked by the demands of work and family. It just requires the willpower to get up.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, there are always exceptions. The principle here is to find a time that you can count on… but most of the I don’t have time is really I don’t want to get up earlier—and that’s different than not having time.

5. Organize every meal around protein.

A simple hack for eating healthier is to prioritize protein at each meal. If you can fit 30-40 grams of protein in at a meal, you’re going to feel fuller and be less likely to eat crap. Annndddd, if you’re one of those people who insist on vibe-eating, this is a great rule to follow.

Here are my favorite proteins for each meal:

• Dinner: Seafood (salmon and shrimp, in particular), chicken, ground chicken, leaner steak, and pork cuts.

• Lunch: Canned tuna or salmon (creating a good tuna-salad recipe was a game-changer), Greek Yogurt (I love Oikos Triple Zero during a cut), or leftover protein from the previous night’s dinner.

• Breakfast: Eggs (egg whites if you’re on a cut), protein shake, Greek Yogurt.

• Snacks: Barebells Bars, David Bars, canned sardines, or canned calamari.

This is a great rule for eating out, too. If you have to eat out and are on a cut, find a steak or seafood entree and order vegetables as a side. It will likely still have more calories than if you cooked it at home, but it won’t set you back nearly as much.

The key here is to find your favorite proteins and stick with them, which leads me to…

6. Eating the same thing every day is a health superpower.

This might be the most practical tip in the whole post: Having 2 to 3 “default” meals you can repeat will make life easier. It reduces the intense cognitive load of deciding what to eat each day, which is often the hardest part of cutting weight.

I have two go-to breakfasts, lunches, and snacks.

For breakfast, I almost always have eggs or a protein shake. If I’m on a cut, I’ll do mostly egg whites rather than whole eggs (since egg yolks have a lot of fat).

(Often I’ll have eggs first thing in the morning and a shake mid-morning since I usually eat four meals a day, even during a cut. If you don’t work from home, check out Fairlife Protein Shakes or Vital Proteins Protein Shakes—you can find both at Costco—they’re delicious and a big-time macro cheat code for cutting weight.)

For lunch, it’s yogurt (Oikos Triple Zero + 2.5 ounces of Catalina Crunch + 2 ounces of wild blueberries is about 375 calories with 40 grams of protein AND delicious) or canned tuna/salmon salad. Taking 10-minutes to find a good tuna or salmon salad recipe is worth it. Here’s mine (and a few others).

For snacks, I’ll stick to mostly fruit. I like to buy fresh blueberries, freeze and bag them, then scoop a small cupful whenever I’m craving sugar. Otherwise, I usually have a few apples each day. For dessert, I’ll have a Barebell Protein Bar. They’re delicious. If you are dairy-free and/or gluten-free, Krista loves Misfit Protein Bars.

A warning about snacks: I try to prioritize fruit because the snacks marketed as “healthy” are typically only healthy in small portions. Sure, you can “overeat” frozen blueberries, but have you ever met someone who got fat eating too many blueberries? Neither have I. The damage you can do eating a gallon bag of blueberries is not as significant as eating four sleeves of “healthy” Oreo knock-offs.

(Click the link above to watch a bit from Nate Bargatze about people warning him to be careful about eating too much fruit.)

Dinners are more difficult since many of us are also feeding a family, and they don’t necessarily care about your diet. Krista and I plan our dinners on Sundays, which ensures we’re on the same page. It’s always protein (Shrimp, chicken, etc.) plus a vegetable (brussels sprouts are a favorite), and maybe something starchy like a potato. We’re not big pasta people, so that’s not an obstacle for us. If Krista and the kids opt for pizza, I at least know which night it’s happening and can make my own plans (or we make this delicious pizza with a crust made from ground chicken).

A note about cost: People are quick to point out that eating whole foods is “expensive.” In my experience, it’s less expensive (or a wash at worst) because I’m buying fewer snacks and eating out less.

7. If you’re serious about cutting weight, cut out alcohol.

Alcohol is one of the easiest ways to derail a cut. If you’re cutting weight, cut out alcohol until you’ve reached your goal weight—no exceptions. I’m not saying forever (yet); just until you’ve reached your goal weight. Anyone I’ve ever talked to who has gone from a few casual drinks a week to no drinks for at least a month raves about the benefits (not only in terms of health, but also things like improved connection with their spouse and family, etc.).

If I became Theocratic-King-of-the-Whole-Entire-World™, I’d ban alcohol because I think it has zero health benefits and generally does more harm than good.

(In case you’re worried, it’s important to Krista that you know it’s highly unlikely I become Theocratic-King-of-the-Whole-Entire-World™, and that she’ll continue to enjoy a glass of wine in the evenings).

All that said, I recognize my position would put me at odds with many of my heroes like G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, or J.R.R. Tolkien.

8. The 4-week rule: Everything gets easier after week 4.

If you stick with a program consistently for 4-weeks, it will get easier. You might even start enjoying it.

This has largely been my experience, especially with running programs. When I start, it’s hard, and I hate it. Then, somewhere around the 4-week mark, I start to… enjoy it. The dopamine high from running is a real thing.

Whenever I start a cut, it feels like NOTHING is happening for at least the first two weeks. Yes, the scale usually drops quickly in the very beginning, but then it gets harder. It’s also hard to see progress on a day-to-day basis… until like 4-weeks.

Compare your picture on day 1 to day 28. You’ll see a change. It’s motivating. And it’s usually enough to get you through your second 4-weeks. Once you’re 8 weeks in, it’s a habit.

Anyone can stick with something for 4-weeks, right?

Progress can be made quickly. It doesn’t always feel that way because it’s harder to make progress than lose progress—but it takes less effort than people think to start feeling (and looking) better.

Warning: You will get sick in the first 4-weeks. Or your kids will get sick. Or something will happen that will (attempt to) derail your progress. Stay focused on the long game: A few days recovering from an illness is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Take the time you need and then pick up where you left off.

9. Sleep is the first thing you do, not the last thing you do.

This is my single-greatest piece of advice: Treat your day as if it starts at sundown.

Hang with me.

Most of us believe that our day ends with sleep, but it actually starts with sleep. It is, quite literally, the first thing we do each day. And nothing will impact your day-to-day in a bigger way than your sleep.

So, set yourself up for success by committing to 7 hours of sleep each night.

But another thing I do to “kick off my day” is quickly outline in my journal what my next day will look like each evening. My day is already laid out in my digital calendar, but writing it down the night before gets me to intentionally decide things like where I will fit my workout in the next day, when I’ll do all those little to-dos (e.g. run an errand) that might not be on the calendar, and brain dump anything on my mind that I did not get to that day. Not only does it help me prepare for the next day, but it also helps me sleep (and there’s scientific evidence that shows brain dumping unfinished tasks onto paper at the end of the day improves sleep).

It’s a small, but powerful mental shift to view the evening as the start of the next day.1

10. Your family will either be an obstacle or a cheat code (and it’s your choice).

Let me preface this by saying: I’m a slow learner. When I started my health and fitness journey, I believed that my family was obligated to do everything in their power to support me. I took resistance as an act of war on my health.

You all are wiser than I, so I’m sure you’ll avoid going that route.

The best-case scenario is 1) recognizing that you and your spouse may have different health goals, and 2) having a conversation with your spouse to get on the same page.

And guess what, “getting on the same page” doesn’t mean getting your family to cater to your health goals. It means identifying the points of tension and finding ways to transform them (or at least limit their inconvenience to the family).

One of my big, more recent wins was learning to love cooking again…

Tension: Having to eat something different from what my family eats, thus having to make two different dinners and try coordinating them so we can eat as a family.
Transformation: Me, making something delicious for dinner that the family enjoys and helps me reach my health goals.

And, of course, the icing on this proverbial low-sugar, protein-packed cake is that the family is eating a bit healthier, too.

Many of the tensions can become blessings if you realize your agency.

The point is this: Your health endeavors can cause strife within your family or be a huge blessing, and the choice is yours.2

11. Planning is the difference between long-term success and failure.

The “just vibes” folks won’t love this one, but the more responsibilities you carry, the more planning you’ll likely need to do to be successful.

This doesn’t mean intense meal planning. You know, the sort that requires your meals to be pre-made each week. It can look like this…

That’s the result of a quick conversation between Krista and me about what we’re having this week. That’s enough planning for us because we work from home and have a bit more flexibility in our day.

There are lots of ways to do this, but here’s what planning looks like for us:

• Quick Sunday conversation with Krista about what we’re eating for dinner that week. We take into account what we have going on each evening, like sports practices, so that we plan something appropriate.

• I have an evening journaling practice that takes me 5 minutes and allows me to 1) brain dump any “to-dos” still on my mind that day and 2) organize the next day (see above).

And that pretty much helps me head off 95% of issues that would prevent me from getting in a workout or clean eating.

Planning also means having a plan for your workout. I once heard someone say, “Training and exercise are two very different things.” (I wish I could remember who), and it really stuck with me.

His point was that training includes intention, whereas exercising doesn’t. Regardless of how you feel about that, what I have found helpful is a small mental shift: Making sure I always have a goal for my training so that I know I am actually pushing myself versus merely showing up.

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12. Cardio is not the best way to lose weight and keep it off.

Listen, I don’t think cardio is bad. In fact, though I now prefer weightlifting over running, I preferred running over lifting for most of the last fifteen years. I’m also not suggesting that you can’t lose weight doing cardio. I’m simply suggesting that it’s not the best way to lose weight and keep it off.

All that said, two realizations I’ve had—one very recently—are that my weight fluctuates much less when I am lifting (and thus building muscle) and when I'm committed to 10,000 steps each day.

I’ve found that a step goal keeps me active even when I don’t have a cardio-centric health goal like training for a race, and it keeps me active on days where I don’t have a run planned. I imagine steps are also a more appealing benchmark for many people with injuries or who are injury-prone who want to avoid running.

Committing to at least 8-10k steps is very sustainable. It requires intentionality, for sure, but it’s very doable on a daily basis. If you work an office job and you’re not intentional about how much you move throughout the day, you probably move a lot less than you think.

13. Learn to cook.

Learning to cook delicious, nutritious meals for the family has never been easier thanks to social media, countless blogs, and ChatGPT. I’ve learned to really enjoy making meals I find on social media or blogs, and then adjusting them based on my health goals using an AI tool.

In just the past week, we’ve made versions of bang-bang shrimp, homemade chicken nuggets, pizza with a ground-chicken crust, and other recipes the whole family enjoys.

Krista previously did nearly all the cooking in the house, so another blessing of this newfound love for cooking is that it’s become something we can do together. Other benefits include making food that actually tastes good while cutting weight and eating out less because you enjoy what you eat at home more.

14. Recognize the mental and emotional aspect of it all.

The mental and emotional component cannot be understated. It’s a vicious cycle, really:

Healthy decisions → feeling better → making more healthy decisions
Unhealthy decisions → feeling poorly → making more unhealthy decisions

So, how do you avoid the unhealthy decision cycle? I think there are two important steps one can take:

First: Planning helps you avoid situations that make it difficult to make a healthy choice. Enough has been said on this point.

Second: Recognize your mental state, especially when you’re hungry, angry, lonely, or tired (in therapy, the acronym is HALT—ask me how I know). For me, I’ve found that if I binge on junk food, there’s a 99% chance it was because I was tired.

Otherwise, find mental tricks to make it easier to choose the healthy decision.

One of my friends who is a runner (I’m not a runner; I’m just a guy who likes to run—there is a difference) once told me that when he doesn’t feel like running, he just tells himself he’s going to put on his running shoes. If he doesn’t feel like running after he gets ready to run, he won’t do it. 99% of the time, he goes for the run.

When I’m craving sugar and want to eat junk food, I’ll have a cup of frozen blueberries (even if I don’t have the calories left for it). I tell myself that if I’m still hungry after the cup of blueberries, I’ll have the snack. 99% of the time, I don’t.

15. Give yourself grace and move on.

You’ll get sick, you’ll overeat, you’ll go on vacation and enjoy foods you don’t normally eat—that’s life. If you treat health as a lifelong endeavor, a few sick days or a week of gluttony at the beach won’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It can be hard to remember that in the first few weeks of your journey, though.

This, you might have guessed, has been the hardest lesson for me to learn.

If this feels like a lot, know that I didn’t make all these changes overnight. Consistently making healthy choices led to healthy habits… and after a while, it becomes less of something you choose and more of something you do.

Choose Your Hard

I often find cliches unhelpful, but the “choose your hard” mantra motivated me as I tried to become healthier.

It’s hard to make healthy choices—especially in a society that makes bad choices so convenient (and often marketed as “healthy”). But it’s also hard to be unhealthy and deal with consequences such as fatigue and brain fog, at best, and chronic disease or worse, at worst.

It’s also important to recognize that many aspects of health are beyond our control.

My mom, who had a relatively healthy lifestyle, passed away from Leukemia in her 40s, and I have other family members who have various autoimmune challenges that are likely genetic. Those experiences, especially the early death of my mom, have motivated me to take my health seriously (although admittedly, it has also sometimes led to an unhealthy obsession or “idolization” of my health—a topic for another post, I suppose). More than that, though, I think it’s been a reminder that it’s such a gift to have any influence over our health at all!

Anyway, if you’re setting health and fitness goals this year, I hope you’ve found at least one of these tips helpful. Godspeed!

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January 1st was the Solemnity of Mary, Holy Mother of God. Most of my Protestant friends seem okay with the title Mother of God (in Greek, Theotokos, meaning God-bearer)—well, they at least don’t grimace quite as much as when we discuss praying to the saints or indulgences. It’s a bit presumptuous, but I think it’s safe to say that it returns a low score on the Doctrinal Shock Index™. The logic is pretty easy to follow:

Jesus is God.
Mary is Jesus’s mother.
Therefore, Mary is the Mother of God.

There are all sorts of things that the title Mother of God doesn’t mean that I don’t think are worth getting into here. What the January 1st solemnity really had me thinking about was the typical response I receive from many of my Protestant friends, usually something along the lines of, “But why does this matter at all?”

It’s a good question. It’s a bad objection.

As an objection, it’s an accusation that this is an accretion, something unnecessarily added by papists in their ever-growing devotion to Mary. That might be true (it’s not), but given that many (most?) of the Protestants I know couldn’t provide a reason why many Christians refer to Mary as the Theotokos, how would they know? It ironically exposes one of the (many) ways in which today’s Protestantism, especially in its evangelical forms, has ingested modernism’s chronological snobbery (and generally reckless approach to reform). It reminds me of this quote from G.K. Chesterton:

“In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.”

This paradox rests on the most elementary common sense. The gate or fence did not grow there. It was not set up by somnambulists who built it in their sleep. It is highly improbable that it was put there by escaped lunatics who were for some reason loose in the street. Some person had some reason for thinking it would be a good thing for somebody. And until we know what the reason was, we really cannot judge whether the reason was reasonable. It is extremely probable that we have overlooked some whole aspect of the question, if something set up by human beings like ourselves seems to be entirely meaningless and mysterious. There are reformers who get over this difficulty by assuming that all their fathers were fools; but if that be so, we can only say that folly appears to be a hereditary disease. But the truth is that nobody has any business to destroy a social institution until he has really seen it as an historical institution. If he knows how it arose, and what purposes it was supposed to serve, he may really be able to say that they were bad purposes, that they have since become bad purposes, or that they are purposes which are no longer served. But if he simply stares at the thing as a senseless monstrosity that has somehow sprung up in his path, it is he and not the traditionalist who is suffering from an illusion.”

Those who would take the time to understand why Mary is the Mother of God would learn that the title was given to Mary to clarify something about Jesus. Nestorius, the Archbishop of Constantinople, feared that calling Mary Theotokos blurred Christ’s natures, but in guarding against that error, his language implied a dangerous separation within Christ’s person. I’m oversimplifying Nestorius’ position, but the point is that the Church was clarifying something about Christ when it used the term Theotokos to describe Mary.

But regardless, a little investigation would reveal that all this didn’t arise from unbridled Marian devotion looking for cover, but was instead the result of a hard-won battle fought by faithful priests who wanted to squash the idea that Jesus wasn’t fully God and fully human in one person. Indeed, both Luther and Calvin affirmed Mary as Theotokos (and generally held Mary in higher regard than many evangelicals do today).

I’m sure there are plenty of Protestants who are familiar with the historical context of the debate around Theotokos, and for them I have more patience. But any rejection of the term Theotokos is still ultimately one of Protestant Privilege: The term can be rejected, or at least cast aside, because that Jesus is one person with two natures is so established in Christianity that any orthodox Christian—Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise—would look at you sideways if you were to suggest anything different… but only because the Church has fought and won the battle. (You’re welcome.)

We would be wise to understand better why the most ancient Churches believe what they believe before scrapping everything that “can’t be found” in the Bible, because none of these old heresies actually die; they just get reinvented.

Love,
Dad

P.S. Historical “privilege” isn’t limited to Protestants. As I said, the question, “Why does it matter?” is a good one. We should always ask why the fence is there before tearing it down.

Note: For anyone looking for a solid history of the early Church, check out Philip Hughes’ A History of the Church, Volume 1. It’s the most electrifying account of the early Church I’ve ever read, is basically responsible for my interest in Athanasius, and has transformed how I understand the early Church.

Dear Jack and Bennett,

One of my totally-unnecessary-strong-opinions-that-no-one-has-asked-for™ is that The Horse and His Boy is C.S. Lewis’s best Narnian adventure and perhaps his best book. I realize I’m putting The Horse and His Boy over other Lewis classics like Mere Christianity or The Weight of Glory.

I said what I said.

But this book has it all. Of all the Narnian adventures, it’s easily the most action-packed… Running away from home (or running back home?), escaping a tyrant, battling a mad prince, talking horses, long-lost twins, a subtle, budding romance, and the kind of insights that make Lewis, Lewis.

Despite all that, if I’m being honest, I don’t remember liking The Horse and His Boy as much as a kid. Maybe some of the dialogue just hits different as an adult—or at least in this season of life. So consider these “lessons” a few rough notes for us to discuss later. But for now, I’ll continue to enjoy reading you this book before bed.

1. In Narnia, “practical” isn’t a compliment; it’s a warning.

One of the first things we learn about Arsheesh, Shasta’s morally ambiguous adopted father, is that he has a “very practical mind.” When Shasta asks about the northern lands, Arsheesh dodges the question. Shasta, understandably, believes his father is keeping something from him.

“In reality, however, the fisherman talked like this because he didn’t know what lay to the North. Neither did he care. He had a very practical mind.” (emphasis added)

The danger of being “too practical” is that you measure people by what they can do for you. But people aren’t tools. They’re made in the image of God, and you would do well to treat everyone you come across with reverence and openness.

Our world often ties value to usefulness. Yet the most important things like love, friendship, beauty are good simply in themselves. Enjoy all the impractical stuff you get to do as kids. Hold onto that as you grow older and resist the pull to be “too practical.”

This lesson deserves a longer reflection.

2. Sin may look desirable from the outside—but when you’re in it, you realize it’s a pile of sh*t.

“Inside the gates Tashbaan did not at first seem so splendid as it had looked from a distance.”

The city of Tashbaan is called one of the “wonders of the world.” From a distance, Shasta was dazzled. But once inside, he found it crowded, smelly, and full of refuse. Sin works the same way. From the outside, it sparkles. But once you’re in it, you realize you’re standing in filth.

May we all have the wisdom of Shasta as he leaves the city behind him.

”When he came out he lay on the grass looking across the water at Tashbaan—all the splendor and strength and glory of it. But that made him remember the dangers of it too.”

3. Everyone needs a Sallowpad in their life.

Sallowpad is one of my favorite minor characters in Narnia, and I’ve been convinced that everyone should have a wise, talking Raven friend. You should work on finding one as soon as possible.

“Ah!” croaked the Raven [Sallowpad]. “It is an old saying: See the bear in his own den before you judge of his conditions.”

Here is another choice line from Sallowpad…

“I warned your Majesties, I warned you,” said Sallowpad the Raven. “Easily in but not easily out, as the lobster said in the lobster pot!”

4. Remember this the next time you think you’re the “most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world”…

These are some of the best pages in the entire book.

“I do think,” said Shasta, “that I must be the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world. Everything goes right for everyone except for me…”

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two lions the first night, and—”

“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.”

And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued, “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight to receive you.”

Tears everytime I get to this part. I pray that you two reflect on this whenever life feels hard.

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5. Aslan’s way isn’t a shortcut; it’s a journey.

Aslan is everywhere in the story, though rarely in obvious ways. One might wish he’d intervene more forcefully. I’ve often felt that way about God. But both Aslan and God deliver blessings through the journey, not around it. They don’t do it for us, but with us. And if we stay open, that journey transforms us.

Joseph saved his family, but first he was betrayed by them.

Moses led God’s people out of Egypt, but only after giving up life as a prince.

Samuel modeled faithfulness, but had to endure Eli and his sons’ corruption.

David was promised the crown, but first he had to fight giants.

And sometimes it wakes us up to things we’d rather not face—as it did with Bree. One of my favorite lines from the story is the old Hermit’s response to Bree’s self-pity after not stopping to ‘save’ Aravis and Hwin from the lion that was chasing them:

“It’s all very well for you,” said Bree. “You haven’t disgraced yourself. But I’ve lost everything.” “My good Horse,” said the Hermit, who had approached them unnoticed because his bare feet made so little noise on that sweet, dewy grass. “My good Horse, you’ve lost nothing but your self conceit…” (emphasis added)

What a gift if we let it be, like Aravis does.

“I know,” said Aravis. “I felt just the same. Shasta was marvelous. I’m just as bad as you, Bree. I’ve been snubbing him and looking down on him ever since you met us and now he turns out to be the best of us all. But I think it would be better to stay and say we’re sorry than to go back to Calormen.”

It’s always better to say you’re sorry than go back to sin… er, I mean Calormen.

But in all seriousness, do Bree and Aravis overcome their pride without the trial of the journey? Unlikely. The journey both reveals and forms one’s mettle.

And sometimes (often?), we may never understand our trials. But as the Hermit says to Aravis…

“Daughter,” said the Hermit, “I have now lived a hundred and nine winters in this world and have never yet met any such thing as Luck. There is something about all this that I do not understand: but if ever we need to know it, you may be sure that we shall.”

We should learn to be okay with not knowing it.

6. Courage is the most important virtue.

By the end, we learn that Shasta was prophesied to deliver Archenland from its greatest danger. Imagine his parents hearing that prophecy, then losing him to abduction.

That’s another kind of whiplash.

But would Shasta have grown the same way if he’d had a posh upbringing? His twin, raised in comfort, had plenty of courage, though it often turned into rashness. Shasta couldn’t afford that. Carelessness probably meant a beating. Somehow (by Aslan’s providence, I suppose), he grew into a boy who kept choosing courage, and those choices compounded.

Shasta was dreadfully frightened. But it came into his head, “If you funk this, you’ll funk every battle all your life. Now or never.” (emphasis added)

Courage is the most important virtue. If you don’t have it, it’s hard to practice any virtue at all, especially when things are difficult.

7. Aslan (and God) wants to be asked.

I get chills every time I get to this part:

“Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper. “One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.

One who has waited long for you to speak.

What a powerful image of God, who patiently longs for us to pursue Him.

This part reminds me of an exchange between Polly and a different talking horse in The Magician’s Nephew:

“Wouldn’t [Aslan] know without being asked?” said Polly.

“I’ve no doubt he would,” said the Horse… “But I’ve a sort of idea he likes to be asked.”

Go to God and ask. He likes to be asked.

8. God only tells you your story.

There’s lots going on in life right now that makes me wish I could see God’s grand plan. Unfortunately, I’ll probably never know the reasons nor understand the consequences of this particular situation (and countless others), and whatever is revealed to me will only be in part.

I have to trust that God is present in this situation (see lesson 4) and then be faithful in those parts of it that include me.

Something I hope you two learn earlier than I have (and sadly, it’s something I’m still learning) is that you’ll drive yourself mad trying to understand someone else’s story. I don’t mean empathy; I mean the constant need to explain why God allowed this or that in someone else’s life.

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?” [asked Shasta]

“It was I.” [said Aslan]

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

This is a harder pill to swallow when you’re angry. But a friend once told me that being angry is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. The only thing you can control is yourself.

You’re probably asking yourself something like, “Dad, are we still talking about the book?”

Good question.

9. Even (Especially?) in an enchanted land, there’s law and duty.

You would be forgiven if you thought there couldn’t be anything serious about a fantastical land like Narnia. (There are, after all, talking horses and ravens, fauns, and a Lion who is the Son of the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea). But you would be wrong.

“But Corin will be the king then, Father,” said [Shasta].

“Nay, lad,” said King Lune, “thou art my heir. The crown comes to thee.”

“But I don’t want it,” said [Shasta]. “I’d far rather—”

“Tis no question what thou wantest… no I either, ‘Tis in the course of law.”

Tis no question of what thou wantest!

That will be my line next time you two complain about picking up your toys.

In enchanted worlds like Narnia and ours, law is written into the fabric of the universe.

True freedom is recognizing it and understanding your duty in our enchanted world. Right now, your vocations include being brothers and sons. You have a responsibility toward each other, your mom, and me. You’ll learn faithfulness in the small ways you abide in that vocation now (see lesson 6).

You’ll occasionally fall short. That’s okay. But be like Edmund in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (and not Judas). Looking forward to reading that one with you all, too.

Love,

Dad

You see, when Christmas lands on Monday, it makes sense for the workweek prior to end on Friday as usual. The downside, then, is that you’re launched into a weekend of Christmas festivities with no gradual ramp up.

Even worse, the line between Advent and Christmas is blurred and that weekend becomes a mess of seasons due to Christmas Eve beginning on the final Sunday of Advent… so are we preparing or are we celebrating? Not only that, you still have to fulfill your Sunday morning Mass obligation before going back that same evening for Christmas Eve Mass. It’s a lot.

And I hate to break it to you, but if you celebrated your Christmas service on Sunday morning (or worse, Saturday night), what you *really* celebrated was a Fourth Sunday of Advent service. Christmas Eve doesn’t start until the evening of Christmas.

So… and I don’t want be *that guy*… but you technically skipped Christmas.1

Don’t blame me—I’m just a messenger. I wasn’t the one who created the liturgical calendar.

I jest.

Kinda.

Where was I? Oh yes, the travails of Christmas falling on Monday…

Really, what I’m trying to do is blame my ill-preparedness for the Christmas season on the fact that Advent 2023 was as short as it possibly could be because Christmas fell on a Monday. Of course, we both know that I’m just making up excuses. There’s a lot I could try to blame it on, but truthfully, I didn’t order my time around the right things.

Or rather, maybe I didn’t let time order me.

And it’s ironic—as you’re about to read—since this past fall we’ve tried to correct that.

In late September we began inviting friends to celebrate various feast days throughout the liturgical year. The impetus for this now bimonthly tradition of hosting friends for prayer was, at least originally, to catechize our children.

If you’re not familiar with the liturgical calendar, the quick and dirty version is that it divides the year up into seasons in order to help the Church celebrate the liturgy, each season with its own emphases. Advent and Lent, for instance, are seasons of penance and preparation that precede Christmas and Easter, which are celebratory seasons. Scattered between those seasons you’ll find yourself in Ordinary Time, which is the liturgical season that makes up most of the year. And within each of those seasons are days that memorialize events or saints that are significant in the life of the Church.2

Anyway, we decided that we wanted to pick a few of the Church’s feast days where we would actually feast together with friends. A few of the reasons we decided to start doing this…

→ The liturgical year provides an opportunity to catechize our children and discuss important saints and events throughout salvation history.

→ We often get together with friends for either prayer or party. This is an opportunity for both (which honestly, shouldn’t be something we have to work on but here we are).

→ Along those lines, we want prayer to be a more natural part of our encounters with other people. We are fortunate to have friends and family who so naturally and *genuinely* incorporate prayer in any social setting. Their example has encouraged us to be more intentional in this area.

→ We have many pockets of friends (did you catch that humble brag?) and this has been a fun opportunity to bring those different friend groups together.

→ Jaroslav Pelikan famously remarked that “tradition is the living faith of the dead…”.3 These get togethers serve as an opportunity to enter into the Church’s faith and ask for the intercession of her many saints.

→ We want to develop the senses that realize we live in an enchanted world.

And so on…

We began by choosing the Feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael—really for no other reason than that I think angels are dope (as the kids say). The story of Elisha opening his servant’s eyes to the spiritual world around him in 2 Kings 6, in particular, has long been a source of encouragement and fascination:

¹⁵ When an attendant of the man of God rose early in the morning and went out, an army with horses and chariots was all around the city. His servant said, “Alas, master! What shall we do?” ¹⁶ He replied, “Do not be afraid, for there are more with us than there are with them.” ¹⁷ Then Elisha prayed: “O Lord, please open his eyes that he may see.” So the Lord opened the eyes of the servant, and he saw; the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

As an aside, the Feast of the Archangels renewed my interest in angels and sent me down the craziest rabbit trail where I eventually decided aliens exist. How about that for today’s non sequitur?

About month later we again hosted a dinner to celebrate the Feast of St. Leo the Great. If you know anything about St. Leo, you probably already know why I chose this feast day.

As much as I’d like to tell you that it’s because of his significant contributions to Christology… it’s actually because of this story about St. Leo preventing Attila the Hun from sacking Rome.

Sts. Peter and Paul with flaming swords flanking each side of St. Leo… I mean, c’mon! It gets me fired up. every. single. time!

But remember, all of this is totally not for me. “It’s to catechize my children!” I tell myself. That, of course, sounds like such a noble excuse for deciding to take the liturgical year more seriously.

The reality, however, is that I need to take the liturgical year more seriously. I believe in the reality of the spiritual world. I’m sure Elisha’s servant did, too. And yet, it seems that we both let worldly troubles largely dictate how we see reality.

And I suppose that’s really the problem. Our hope, though, is that the more we continue to lean into the Church’s liturgy and lean on her saints, the better we’ll be able to see what is truly real.

And to that end, we have also decided to pick patron saints for the year. Throughout the year we’ll learn a little more about the saints we chose, include those saints in our prayers asking them for encouragement and intercession, and celebrate their feast days.

Jack has chosen St. Pope John Paul II (Feast day, October 22). Krista introduced him to Jack during our celebration of All Saints’ Day this past year. Jack, who still hasn’t clearly explained why, has become fond of Pope John Paul II. And since my mom was always fond of him too, I’ve been encouraging Jack to learn more about him.

Bennett is too young to choose, so Jack took that responsibility upon himself and has chosen St. Brendan the Navigator (May 16th) for Bennett. Honestly, I was going to choose Padre Pio, who I’ve recently taken an interest in due to something he once said that seemed to affirm the existence of aliens4 … and, uh, totally because he was a really holy guy, too. I don’t know much about St. Brendan, but am excited to learn more about him.

Krista has chosen Thérèse of Lisieux (October 1). I’m excited to learn more about this choice and the impact it has on her year. She says she chose St. Thérèse is because St. Thérèse exemplifies the significance that someone can have on the world by living out her vocation faithfully and simply. She’s like the anti-influencer.

And my choice is St. Joseph (March 19). This past year has spurred me on towards thinking more about my vocation as a husband and a father… and who is a better father than St. Joseph? I admire his wisdom, patience, humility, and especially meekness. “Meek” conjures connotations of weakness, but comes from a greek word meaning “strength under control.” #Goals.

So, here’s to 2024 and developing our spiritual senses! I pray that all of us come to more deeply realize that we live in an enchanted world.

Sts. Pope John Paul II, Thérèse, Brendan, and Joseph, pray for us!

P.S. Fortunately Christmas 2024 lands on a Wednesday, which is the best possible day to celebrate Christmas. No excuses this year…

I know that’s dark.

I don’t like flying. It’s just not… natural. If God wanted us flying around the skies like maniacs he would have given us wings. Yes, yes, I know that when that logic is applied to all sorts of other things my argument becomes absurd. Whatever.

I’m not even a nervous flyer; I just get anxious about flying. Once I’m in my seat, I really don’t think about much of anything else other than my in-flight activities, which today includes getting some work done, a little writing, and (hopefully) watching Tottenham beat Fulham in the second round of the Carabao Cup.

Update: They lost.

And don’t go on thinking that I’m a pessimist—I also think I’ve bought the winning lottery ticket every time I play.

Not sure what that says about me.

“Nothing good,” my cousin Daniel joked as I explained this to him.

He’s probably right.

Anyways, the gift of flying is that it has become a sort of memento mori activity (latin: remember you must die).

I vividly remember the moment I became aware of my mortality. I couldn’t have been more than 5, and we lived in an old house on the edge of a cemetery in Sycamore, Illinois. I’m not quite sure what brought about this sudden realization that I and all the people I knew would someday die, but it felt like it hit me all at once. What I do remember is that I sat sobbing at the bottom of the stairs as my mom tried to comfort me. She told me about heaven, and I told her that whenever death does come, I hope it comes quickly.

In adulthood, and especially since having kids, my view of death and suffering has changed quite a bit. I don’t necessarily hope for a long, agonizing death—that would be rather dark, I think—but I do hope that I’m prepared. I’d much rather have a sense that it was coming than for it happen suddenly. My mother died of cancer while I was in high school. While I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, I am grateful for the letters she was able to write me during the year she was receiving treatment. My dad gave them to me over the next few years on important occasions, and I have really come to see the gift that it was to receive some wisdom that my mom was able to distill before she passed. It has inspired me to write letters to Jack and Bennett each week in my journal.

The reality is that we generally don’t have much control over how we go out; thus, memento mori activities that call to mind our own death become important. It’s overwhelming to think about our own utter contingency, but it also brings a sense of clarity, too. What’s important suddenly rises to the surface, and all those daily anxieties seem to sink away. It makes it easier to forgive and ask for forgiveness, and it’s a good reminder to say out loud those things you think you’ll have time to say later.

The Friday Five…

So that brings me to my first Friday Five. Oftentimes, I come across articles or links or other resources that I’d like to share, but don’t fit within any of my planned posts. This is an outlet to share those resources and shorter, less developed reflections.

Let me know what you think…

1. Memento mori activity: Visiting cemeteries to wash old gravestones and pray for the dead.

A friend recently told me that growing up his dad would take him to clean old tombstones and pray for the dead at cemeteries.

Now that’s a memento mori activity.

There’s something really beautiful about not knowing the person whose tombstone you’re cleaning. What a great way to teach a child about serving others no matter whether you think they’re deserving of it.

2. Understanding the Dog-Headed Icon of St-Christopher by Jonathan Pageau.

I wear a St. Christopher medallion necklace since he was my confirmation saint (a helpful patron saint for one nervous about flying). Jack recently asked me about this so we went to Google for some more information.

Jack was immediately drawn to the icons of St. Christopher that portray him as having a dog’s head. Not quite remembering why he’s portrayed this way, we searched a bit more and came across this Jonathan Pageau article. I don’t know much about Pageau, but the stuff I have read has been very interesting.

3. August has been for angels. Next month we’re hosting dinner for some friends from church on the Feast day of the Archangels St. Michael, St. Gabriel, and St. Raphael (September 29th). Then a few days later is the Memorial of the Guardian Angels (October 2nd). Our goal is to celebrate at least one feast day each month as a family to stay tuned-in to the liturgical calendar and teach our children about the various saints, church history, etc. etc.

If you’re interested in what I’ve been reading and listening to as I prepare for this feast day (and the corresponding post)…

• Angels and Their Mission: According to the Fathers of the Church by Jean Danielou. S/o to Steve Knepper for the recommendation. The chapter on guardian angels is worth the price of the book.

• Podcast: 10 Things You Didn’t Know about Guardian Angels

• Podcast: What does the Catholic Church teach about angels?

A quick note about those podcast episodes: They had interesting parts, but I found them frustrating. One of the hosts argued for naming your guardian angel (or discerning your guardian angel’s name) as a means for greater devotion or something. Terrible idea. There’s a pretty strong tradition (and very good reasons) for not naming one’s guardian angels. Just don’t do it. Fortunately one of the other hosts challenged him on this, but I wish they had edited it out altogether.

4. P.S. 51 to the End by Paul Hundt in the latest issue of The Lamp.

It’s a moving article about loneliness and friendship that nearly brought me to tears on the plane.

As an aside: Turns out that getting emotional and then writing a post about planes nosediving is a great way to make those around you nervous.

Unfortunately, you have to be a subscriber to read the article—personally, I think it’s worth it.

5. This passage from Dante’s Inferno as Dante advances into the 5th circle of hell and encounters “the souls of those whom anger overthrew” (Canto 7, 115)…

So, stuck there fast in slime, they hum: “Mournful

we were. Sunlight rejoices in the balmy air.

We, though, within ourselves nursed sullen fumes,

and come to misery in this black ooze.”

That is the hymn each gurgles in his gorge, unable to articulate a single phrase.’

Canto 7, 121-126

It’s one of those passages I just can’t shake—probably because anger is something I’ve wrestled with for most of my life. What an intense visual of what anger and wrath does to one’s soul!

So, I’ve arrived back home safely.

Let me know what you think of this new series. If you end up finding one of the resources helpful, let me know!

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I was going for more “prolegomenon” vibes than “rambling old man” vibes. I guess you win some and lose some.

Oh well, here it goes…

My dad had a few household rules that were renown among me and my siblings’ friends growing up. They went something like this…

1. Everything in moderation.

2. Save ten cents of every dollar.

3. The most dangerous thing at a party is a camera.

4. Never drink and drive.

5. Never lock the front door.

You can debate amongst yourselves about the virtue of these rules, but they were certainly pragmatic.

And no, Dad, the most dangerous thing at a party isn’t a camera… but boy, do I wish I saved 10 cents of every dollar.

Lately, Krista and I have been thinking about our own “family rule.”

Why?

Maybe because as I write this Krista is trying to potty train our toddler and it feels like absolute anarchy over here. Some order would be nice.

In all seriousness, much of it does have to do with the boys growing older. There are more decisions to be made and more demands being placed on our calendars from what schools they’ll attend and what activities we’re going to sign-up them up for in a given season to how we respond to Jack’s increasingly, uh, challenging questions…

The idea behind a family rule is that it provides the guiding principles for how our family organizes our life together. It’s practical in that it has helped us make decisions for our family from what school we’ll send Jack to next year to what activities he’s participating in. For instance, if we say ‘yes’ to Jack signing up for two sports this fall, what are we saying ‘no’ to as a family?

More importantly, however, it’s concerned with the formation of the family.

For most of my life, I thought of rules as prohibited actions. My guess is that’s how many of us think about rules. Rules act as sort of a boundary marker, often marking what is out-of-bounds. “Don’t do that…” or “Never do this…” etc. etc.

But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate the way in which rules can provide a framework for how to live life rather than how not to live life. They’re still a sort of boundary marker; however, their primary function ought to be marking what is in-bounds rather than what is out. Thus, if it’s true that a rule is primarily concerned with how we live life, it then becomes one of the primary means by which we are formed.

Religious communities have long understood this. Common examples include the extensive Rule of St. Benedict or the much more concise Rule of St. Francis. Both were designed to provide those in their communities with guidance on how they ought to live so they could live harmoniously with each other while being formed in holiness. I have thoughts on both, but you’ll have to hit the footnotes for those.1

Modern sensibilities might find rules such as Benedict’s burdensome, drawing comparisons to Old Testament laws. But lest we remember that St. Paul tells us “the law was our guardian until Christ came” (Gal 3:24, ESV-CE). The law—regardless of what feelings reading Leviticus evokes—had an inherently pedagogical aspect to it. It was meant to be a sort of teacher and its primary purpose was to form the Israelites in holiness.

Indeed, as I’ve reflected on this topic I’ve found the book of Deuteronomy particularly helpful. For those unfamiliar, Deuteronomy chronicles Moses’ exhortation to a new generation of Israelites to follow God’s laws and commandments as they’re on the cusp of (finally) entering the Promised Land. Deuteronomy’s purpose is, at least in part, to hand on the faith to a new generation, and thus has important insights for catechesis and formation.

Deuteronomy and a Family Rule

Three things from Deuteronomy strike me that I think our relevant to this conversation:

1. Moses recounts the story of Israel up to his present time, interpreting it in light of what God has done for them as a nation (roughly chapters 1-4).

2. Moses emphasizes the importance of the Israelites instructing their children using these stories (c.f. 4:9, 6:7, 11:19).

3. And Moses not only recounts God’s statutes and commandments, but explains them in light of Israel’s present situation while anticipating their future needs.

This story of Israel’s history and subsequent references to it serve as both encouragement and warning to the Israelites. The refrain of this history—particularly the Lord bringing the Israelites out of Egypt—is echoed throughout the entire book of Deuteronomy.

Moses understands that God’s law is intricately woven within salvation history, and there is a very real sense that without understanding Israel’s history, Israel’s next generation would not understand God’s law.

Why can the Israelites trust God’s laws, statutes, and commandments?

Because the God of Israel has gone “before you in the way to seek you out a place to pitch your tents, in fire by night and in the cloud by day, to show you by what way you should go” (1:33). He has demonstrated His faithfulness through Israel’s history by delivering them from Pharaoh and Egypt (1:30), and sustaining them in the desert (1:31), and multiplying them from a family of seventy to a nation “as numerous as the stars of heaven” (1:10, 10:22).

Likewise, when Israel has not trusted God, chaos has generally followed—and this is a point Moses equally emphasizes. He reminds this next generation that the reason Israel has been wandering in the desert for forty years is a failure to trust in the word of God despite His examples of faithfulness to Israel (1:33). Yes, they stand on the cusp of the Promised Land—but if they are not obedient to God’s statutes and commands, they will be “utterly destroyed” (4:26).

Thus, properly catechizing and forming one’s family is critical to the survival and flourishing of Israel. In Deuteronomy 6, Moses says (not for the first time, c.f. 4:9)…

²⁰ “When your son asks you in time to come, ‘What is the meaning of the testimonies and the statutes and the rules that the Lord our God has commanded you?’ ²¹ then you shall say to your son, ‘We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt. And the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand. ²² And the Lord showed signs and wonders, great and grievous, against Egypt and against Pharaoh and all his household, before our eyes. ²³ And he brought us out from there, that he might bring us in and give us the land that he swore to give to our fathers. ²⁴ And the Lord commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the Lord our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive, as we are this day. ²⁵ And it will be righteousness for us, if we are careful to do all this commandment before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us.’ (Dt 6:21–25)

Moses provides a clear model for teaching the next generation and stories are integral to it. They provide tangible evidence of God’s faithfulness and Israel’s statutes as God’s chosen people.

The examples continue in chapter 7, but I’ll leave it here for now.

The last thing I’ll note is that Moses interprets God’s laws and statutes in light of Israel’s present situation while anticipating their future needs. Chapters 6 through 26 are essentially a more practical explanation of the Ten Commandments, which Moses recounts in chapter 5. The details might seem tedious and burdensome, but a less anachronistic look, I think, reveals that the law was truly there to lead Israel to flourishing.

Three Questions for Organizing Our Family Rule

So with these things in mind we have been thinking about our family rule. It has largely been formulated along these three questions:

Question 1: What stories do we tell as a family?

Moses seemed to know that if you get the story wrong, you run the risk of getting just about everything else wrong, too. For instance, in the very beginning of Deuteronomy, we read that the Israelites murmured against the Lord saying, “Because the Lord hated us he has brought us out of the land of Egypt, to give us into the hand of the Amorites, to destroy us" (Dt. 1:27-28).

They got the story wrong and as a result, they died in the wilderness.

Yikes. You hear that, kids?

This has spurred us on to ask ourselves what stories we’re telling our family…

• Are we sharing our testimonies as a family?

• Are we interpreting the events in our lives in light of salvation history?

• Are we sharing with each other the ways in which God is working in our lives and what he is teaching us?

• When we share biblical stories, do we point to their relevance for today?

• What books do we read our children? What movies and television shows do we let them watch? Never Daniel Tiger, never…2

I think in a world that has largely been reduced to the practical and material it feels awkward for many of us to offer a spiritual or non-material interpretation of the events in our lives. However, I’d argue that God primarily works through the mundane and the ordinariness of our lives. To only seek God in the extraordinary is to largely miss Him. The stories we teach our children (and ourselves), however, should demonstrate that God is acting in even the most mundane aspects of our lives so as to bring us closer to Him.

There is, of course, a danger here, too. The story format we don’t want our children (or ourselves) learning is that if a bad thing happens, God is mad. Or if a good thing happens, God is happy, etc. etc. If that is the general gist of the story you’re telling, it likely neither good nor biblical. The more typical format we see in the Bible is God bringing good out of evil and redemption out of suffering (see Genesis 50:20).

Question 2: How do we spend our time?

This, perhaps, is the most practical question to ask. It seems to me like time should be the organizing element of a family rule for a number of reasons but first and foremost that what we spend our time on and with whom we spend it is incredibly formative (see Matthew 6:21).

We’ve tried to intentionally look at how we’re spending our time and what that is teaching our children about what we value.

It has been a convicting question at times.

As owners of online businesses, we fight the temptation to spend too much time on our phones. Krista often has to remind me that there’s no good reason I need the Gmail and Slack mobile apps (“You’re not a surgeon, Davey…”). And as work-from-home parents we also fight the temptation to blur family and work boundaries. I often have to remind Krista that her doing household chores with the kids is not exactly the same thing as spending quality time with them (as much as they sometimes like to help).

Some rules that we’ve come up with that help us organize our time and activities:

We prioritize the beginning and end of each day: We have very specific morning and evening routines that include prayer, quiet time, and—for Krista and I—connecting. Even on weekends, Krista and I will try to carve out 15-30 minutes before the boys wake up to connect—something that has really helped our weekends feel less chaotic. It’s important to us that our bedtime routine includes things that we do as a family like reading and praying together.

We prioritize opportunities to spend time together: If one of us has an opportunity to do something that takes away from time we normally spend together as a family, we’re very hesitant to commit to it. This doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re spending as much time together as we possibly can (more on that in a minute), but it does mean that we do our best to guard certain family time such as meals together.

We give each member of the family time to be alone: Krista and I have recently been experimenting with each getting 90-minutes one afternoon during the week to do…

… whatever it is that we want to do—kid-free.

This could be work or chores, but it could also be something like reading or working out.

The kids aren’t old enough to spend time alone, but we do believe they ought to learn to play on their own without having a screen in front of them. Our oldest is not particularly good at this, so we try to find 20-30 minute windows where they need to figure out how to entertain themselves.

Additionally, silence and solitude are important spiritual disciplines.

Each kid gets one-on-one time with each parent: After Bennett was born, we noticed that Krista spent a lot of time with him and I spent a lot of time with Jack. Part of that was practical—I couldn’t feed Bennett. But it’s also one of those things that just turns into a pattern after a while that no longer has any practical reason to it.

Somebody once told us that if we want to see something in our children when they’re adults, then we must teach it to them as children. Makes sense. Well, we each want a healthy individual relationship with each of our kids, so we’re trying to prioritize that now.

We try to learn something new everyday: This is something that I noticed helps me fend off burnout, but has been adopted as a family to hopefully cultivate some intellectual curiosity (and also helps with our next rule). Hopefully studiositas rather than curiositas… IYKYK.

We try to do something fun everyday: This has really helped us to be 100% focused on the kids during family time. Each day we try to do one fun thing together. It doesn’t have to be grand, and most of the time, it isn’t. In the summer, it usually means going to the pool. But the point is that it’s something we’re going to go and do together that the kids want to do.

Since we live a more rural life now, it’s easy to take the kids to do chores and call it spending time together. It is a good thing and they do mostly enjoy it—but it is different than spending time with them letting them be kids, doing kid stuff.

We do some sort of work or chores everyday (except on the Lord’s Day): This is largely aspirational. There are plenty of chores to do around the house and yard, but we don’t have a set chore-list for the kids yet (although Jack does things like feed the dog and collect the chicken eggs). I think there’s a good reason that manual labor is an aspect of many religious communities’ rules.

Something that we have been doing as a family each day (and has become a highlight) is taking an ice bath. I doubt our spiritual ancestors would allow me to throw my 5-minute ice bath in the same category as manual labor (I think I hear laughter somewhere in the distance) but it has nonetheless been a hard thing we do together. We, of course, don’t let our 22-month old participate, but our 5-year old loves to submerge himself for a minute and then jump into the shower. Maybe I’ll change the rule to be something more along the lines of, “We do something difficult everyday.”

Question 3: How do these things point towards Christ?

Moses is very clear in Deuteronomy about the connection between the commandments and God. The laws and statutes orient the people towards God, the highest Good. Likewise, we want to make sure our kids understand that our household rules are oriented towards Jesus because we want to see them flourish.

There are, of course, many connections to make and many ways to make the connection. One of the ways to effectively make the connection, I think, goes back to the stories that we tell as a family.

Beyond that, one practical way we hope to keep our rules oriented towards Jesus is through evaluating them in light of the evangelical counsels:

• poverty

• chastity

• obedience

The evangelical counsels are practices meant to free us of whatever might hinder us from Christ. While not everyone is called to take a vow of voluntary poverty, perpetual chastity, and perfect obedience, all Christians are called to practice the evangelical counsels on some level.3

There are, of course, other ways rules could be oriented around Christ. For instance, the Beatitudes would perhaps make for a better organizing principle. I also like Henri Nouwen’s reflections on the temptations of Christ in his book In the Name of Jesus. He draws connections between the temptations of Christ and temptations that many leaders face, then discusses the corresponding practices that will develop virtues in a person so they are able to resist those temptations.

Regardless, a rule that does not flow out from Christ and return to Him is bound to result in something that looks arbitrary or legalistic.

So, where does that leave us?

Our family rule is largely a work in progress, and I assume it always will be. Although I secretly (or not so secretly, I guess) would prefer to have our rule summarized in a series of statements, these three questions have been incredibly helpful for organizing our family life together.

I hope you find them helpful, too.

I’ve gone from publishing about four times in a year to twice in about three weeks.

Progress.

My next few posts are planned so I hope to continue posting regularly. Every 10-days to 2-weeks seems like a healthy cadence for now.

While this is largely a fun personal project, I do hope that others find these interesting or thought-provoking. If you’ve enjoyed a post or found something interesting, please let me know by ‘liking,’ commenting, sharing with others, or sending me a message.

The encouragement makes a difference!

We’re hopeful that we’re entering a new season. She’s still experiencing some pain, but her energy levels have improved like crazy in the last week. It’s like… she’s her old self again. Moving from one season into another is wild like that: There’s something about the prior season that doesn’t become clear until you’re out of it.

Or maybe I’m projecting?

Perhaps one of my weaknesses is that I have trouble seeing things as they really are while I’m experiencing them. Something I’ve picked up recently that I think has helped me with that is a regular journaling routine (another topic on which I have thoughts to share). Intentional time at the beginning and end of each day has helped me better come to grips with processing the realities of that day and showing up with more agency and intentionality.

Anyways—before this becomes a very different reflection than what I set out to write… A few days after Krista’s surgery, I wrote down ten questions for our next date night.

Why?

Honestly, I can’t remember. I probably should have journaled that, too.

One conversation Krista and I had around the time she got her surgery is what we wanted life to look like post-surgery, regardless of the outcome. More regular date nights and time to connect was high on the list. That very well could have been the impetus of my date night questions’ reflection.

Another reason that I may have created the list is because it can be a challenge for us to move beyond talking about the kids and other smaller life to-dos (“Hey, what do you think the kids are up to right now?” Or, “How do you think the kids are behaving? etc. etc.).

A friend once told me that when he goes on a trip with his wife it takes him a day or so to get past talking about the kids and trivial life details before really getting into connecting with his wife. I’ve noticed something similar about myself. I sometimes have trouble getting to that next level of conversation and connection both with Krista and friends in short time frames. The hope was that these questions would help me cut down on the transition time from small talk to big talk (is that a thing?).

It worked.

Although, when I afterwards asked Krista what she thought of the questions, her response was, “I liked having the talking points.”

So… romantic? Definitely a very Krista response.

Anyways, here are my questions. Some of them were duds, some led to really good conversation. I’ve tried to include some notes below, too…

10 Questions for Date Night

1. If you could change anything about life right now at the snap of your fingers, what would it be? Not looking for “solving world hunger” type answers here.

2. What’s one thing that God has been teaching you in this season? This was my favorite question because it led to unexpected conversation.

3. If you could change one thing about me, what would it be? This was the hardest question to ask, but my therapist encouraged me to ask it at some point so here we are (something about “blind spots”… as if I have any 😜). Krista was gentle, and it led to some good conversation.

4. What, if anything, are you dreading right now? Neither of us have anything in life that we’re dreading right now… so that’s good.

5. What are you most excited about right now? Simple question, but also led to a lot of good conversation about things that weren’t really on my radar.

6. Where do you want to be in one, three, and five years? This question was kind of a dud. We did some “life planning” a number of years ago and it was really good to think through these things together and we typically revisit this stuff at the beginning of each year… just seemed like it was a little much for date night.

7. If you had to choose one era from our relationship to go back in time to, what would it be and why? This was a fun question and we both had the same answer. Italy 2017—the year before Jack was born. Such a good season together. No judgement on our kids, of course. We couldn’t imagine life without them.

8. What’s one thing you would want to do this year if money or time were not an obstacle? Another fun question that led to conversation around some things that we hope can become a reality in the next few years.

9. What’s been my biggest weakness in this season? Dud. We felt like this had been asked and answered in question #3.

10. What’s been my biggest strength in this season? I think the “in this season” appendage is important for this question so that we didn’t just list the usual strengths that we see in each other.

We’ve decided that for future date nights we’re going to alternate who develops the questions. Krista has already shared one of her questions for next time: Do you have any secret aspirations for our kids?

Her answer, you ask?

She wants Jack to be a doctor and Bennett to be… the next Ed Sheeran. No pressure. I can’t imagine our children developing any sort of complex 🙄.

Though, I will admit I’ve never seen a child light up and dance like Bennett does when music comes on. His favorite jam right now is OneRepublic’s I Ain’t Worried. Check out these dance moves…

A quick note about future posts…

My last post was written over a year ago. Lots of reasons for that, too. One is that I wanted my reflections to be dialed in as if I was writing philosophical treatises that would shape the course of history. The lack of posts over the last year probably gives you an idea of how that went. Plus, this space is for the ordinary things—and I think this sort of thing is probably a bit more my speed.

There are some other life changes and updates that will hopefully allow me to devote some more time to this project. My hope is to write a new post every 10 days or so. Krista’s frequently reminded me lately that not every post has to be 2000+ words with citations from my favorite theologians.

I guess so…

If you find a post thought-provoking, please let me know. The encouragement helps. And if you don’t, you can let me know that, too. But be forewarned, I love a good argument.

A few nights ago Jack noticed the “glow-in-the-dark-butterflies” for the first time.

“Dada, dada… look at the lights on the butterflies!”

“Oh, bub, those are fireflies,” I responded, barely looking up from our evening chicken chores.

“…The butterflies are on fire!?” Jack exclaimed, partly worried and puzzled, but mostly fascinated with the lights.

“No, no, they aren’t butterflies—they are fireflies. They light up at night. Look…”

The fireflies put on a light show at our house every evening in the summer. It looks like something out of a painting. Just as nightfall is setting in the lights float out of the grass into the sky. Then, after dark, thousands more glowing lights can be seen, flickering on-and-off for hours in seeming synchrony as one’s eyes follow them first through our orchard and then down and throughout the valley.

Jack was in awe—as any sane person would be—and wanted to go to the front porch to watch them. I wanted to go to bed, but I yielded and we went out to the front porch.

By the end of the night, Jack had created an entire world out of the glow-in-the-dark butterflies. It did not matter whether I tell him how the fireflies lit up the night sky, it would not stop him from chasing his wandering imagination.

“Dada, they’re out here to keep it light for us! That’s why they’re out here, Dada.”

Watching Jack walk for the first time was special, but seeing his wondrous expression as we watched fireflies was an altogether different experience. It was sacramental. For a few minutes, the familiar monotony of my tasks had died, and out of it had arisen an enchanted world teeming with significance.

Enchantment.

What is it about adulthood that causes us to lose that sense of wonder and enchantment? What is it about the ordinary stuff that seems so hard sometimes? I love playing on the trampoline with Jack. But after the tenth game of “bring it on”—which from what I can gather is simply Jack shouting, “Bring it on!” and then charging me like a maniac—I find my mind starting to wander towards chores or work or school.

But it is extraordinary that tiny bugs light up the night sky for hours each night without burning right up—isn’t it?

Perhaps they are out there for us. Why don’t I sit out there every night? Why do I tire of the ordinary stuff?

It all reminds me of one of my favorite passages from G.K. Chesterton:

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we [emphasis added].”1

But perhaps we can train ourselves to “exult in monotony,” as Chesterton puts it. Perhaps it is a matter of formation.

The day for me is too often something to conquer and subdue. On the other hand, Jack, and most kids, I imagine, encounter the world.

Encounter isn’t passive—yet, it’s not particularly active, either. Those that encounter don’t try to subdue; they behold. It’s an act of humility.

Each and every person or thing he encounters in the world is a new adventure. He takes life as it comes to him, not thinking anything about tomorrow—in part because he has little sense of tomorrow—but always looking back to connect his few-yet-rich memories to today’s adventure. And even the smallest connections are significant.

For Jack, everything is part of a story.

C.S. Lewis once wrote that the “value of myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores them to the rich significance which has been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity.’”2

And nothing, I think, helps restores the significance of that which lies behind “the veil of familiarity” for adults as being around children. Lewis goes on:

The child enjoys his cold meat, otherwise dull to him, by pretending it is buffalo, just killed with his own bow and arrow. And the child is wise. The real meat comes back to him more savory for having been dipped in a story; you might say that only then is it the real meat. If you are tired of the real landscape, look at it in a mirror. By putting bread, gold, horse, apple, or the very roads into a myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it [emphasis added].3

So how do we dip our lives into story? That’s what I’m left reflecting on. I have a feeling that Jack and Samuel Bennett can help me figure it out.

What I offer below is from experience, and please believe me when I say that some of those experiences have been… painful. The first time I tried sitting up front with Jack during Mass, for instance, was nothing short of a dumpster fire. It was a tip I picked up in a podcast produced by a few priests who suggested kids behave better up front because they’re able to see everything that’s going on during Mass.

Sounded reasonable.

During our first attempt sitting up front, Jack ripped a page from the hymnal and repeatedly crawled under the pews two or three rows back from where I was sitting. It was a game in which he found a lot of joy. For me, however, it led to a lot of sweating and embarrassment. By the end of Mass, I looked like I had just finished a 10-mile race. Would they ask me not to come back? Can they do that?

All that to say we don’t claim to be any sort of super-parents with a perfect child. Attending Mass with Jack hasn’t always been easy, and we’ve certainly had days where one or both of us missed the homily because we were attending to a rambunctious child. However, the easy days now far outnumber the hard days. And somewhere in there is the point, right? If we form our kids with bounce houses and “age-appropriate” activities while church happens for grown-ups in the other room, they ultimately learn that worship is entertainment, something to be consumed. Keeping our kids with us during worship might be challenging in the short run but it ultimately forms our children so they don’t come to see worship as something to be consumed, but rather something to participate in with the whole of the church.1

But I digress… If you are interested in trying to keep your children with you in church, here are a few tips that have worked for us and our high energy boy. Different tips have worked better at different ages—for instance, sitting up front has been a largely positive experience since Jack’s been 2 1/2. The time from crawling to being able to be reasoned with was—well, harder (approximately 10-12 months to 2 years old).

1. Bring less toys. We used to bring a bag of toys to Mass for Jack thinking that more toys would be more likely to keep him occupied. One day I had forgot our usual bag, and he ended up being better behaved and more engaged than usual. So, the next time we went to Mass I let him bring only one toy. Again, he was better behaved and more engaged. I mentioned this to a few friends once, and they concurred that in their experience, less is more when it comes to toys at Mass. While we don’t bring toys into Mass anymore, I know there are Mass-specific activities out there that are designed to help kids follow along.

2. Try a book instead. I bring a small missalette to Mass that has the readings, order of Mass, etc. Since Jack likes to do what I do, he wanted his own “church book.” We got him a children’s book of prayers, which he brings to Mass to “follow along.” While he can’t read yet, he still likes to have it open while at Mass. We only let him use this book during Mass, so it’s a Mass-specific “treat.” Besides a snack, this is the only thing we now bring for him into Mass.

3. Sit up front. Contrary to what the story above suggests, we’ve had a lot more luck sitting in the front versus the back. Jack’s able to see what’s happening, and we can point out different events during Mass, which helps keep his attention (more on that below). No judgement wherever you decide to sit (the back does make for a convenient exit if necessary)—but if you sit in the back thinking your kid will be less of a distraction, it probably isn’t true. When a kid is making noise in church, it doesn’t matter whether he’s in the front or back, people can hear it. We have a choir loft towards the back of the sanctuary where many of the families in our church sit, and I’d argue that noise made up there is louder than if they were in the pews below. Kids make noise—we should just own it!

4. Ask questions. We ask Jack questions about the Mass whenever his attention is fading. “Jack, what color is Father Stefan wearing today? Do you know why?” or “Jack, what is Deacon Paul doing?” It not only helps draw his attention back to Mass, but he’s learned a lot, too. Sitting up front also means he can see the altar servers, which also helps keep his attention as he’s always interested in what the older kids are doing.

5. Go often. As with most things, consistency is key. Something that has helped us is attending daily Mass with Jack once-a-week. We hit daily Mass and then I drop him off at school. There’s not as many people at daily Mass, so it makes for great practice (although, that’s not why we go). This might not be possible to do for most people due to various scheduling issues, but if it is, I highly recommend it.

6. Volunteer. After our second was born, we realized that it would be too much for Krista to get a newborn and Jack to Mass alone on mornings I was volunteering. So I started taking Jack with me (once he found out that he gets to help light the candles, he was in!). He’s surprisingly helpful, and he really likes to pass out the orders of Mass to people as they walk in. This has ended up being one of the joys of the last six months! It’s also made him that much more comfortable at church.

7. Remember that it should be joyful place. Church is a solemn place, but it also should be full of joy. At one point, I realized I was spending a lot of time disciplining Jack for every little noise he made. What message was I sending to him? Probably that Mass is all serious and no fun, which is not the message I wanted to send. What I eventually realized was that I am far more sensitive to the noise he makes in Mass than others are. And, as I mentioned in my last post, most people are encouraged by the sight of kids in church—even those that misbehave—and realize that kids act like kids.

8. Deliver swift justice when necessary—but then let it go. The flip side is that sometimes kids do need to be removed from the sanctuary. That’s okay, and while it might feel like a distraction, it’s something that almost any parent understands. So if you need to take your kid to the narthex, you shouldn’t feel ashamed by it. We’ve definitely had instances where we’ve had to take Jack out of Mass to discipline him for misbehaving and distracting others. These days, a good flick to the ear is usually enough to get his attention and convey that he has to stop doing whatever he’s doing.

9. Recognize other holy parts of the day or week. This might be saying prayers together upon waking, before sleep, or at meal times. There might be time during the day designated as “quiet time” that is meant for reflection or devotion. A designated daily “quiet-time” can be age-specific. It might only be 5-10 minutes for Jack who is 3. And sure, he might end up playing with his dinosaurs for half that time (on a good day), but it really does help when Sunday Mass rolls around.

These are the sorts of things that have worked for us with a high energy three year old, and I’m sure we’ll have to iterate on these as his baby brother Samuel gets older. There are a few families I see at church each Sunday who have more kids than us and all of them never seem to misbehave. If you’re one of those families, feel free to leave your secrets in the comments.

My hope for our own parish is that we’d see more and more families sit up front. I envision an atmosphere where when one walks into the sanctuary the first thing they see is a gaggle of children creating just the right amount of controlled chaos. Enough chaos to remind us both of our lack of control and our own youthful days where control didn’t matter so much and the anxieties of daily life didn’t feel so gripping. Wouldn’t that be a heavenly sight? After all, “for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”

Have a tip to add? Leave it in the comments below.

If you’re ready for me to stop writing about children in church, you’re in luck. I’m turning our attention to the sacramental nature of the early church in my next post. Chat with you in a few weeks!

There, I said it. A wiser friend told me that I shouldn’t lead with such an inflammatory remark—but that’s ultimately what I’m getting at, so why not just come out and say it?

And I mean it. I’m sure at least some (many… most?) of you disagree, and I’d love to hear your objections. Seriously. Let me know in the comments or send me an email. 

The type of childcare I’m writing against is any situation where children leave their parents during Mass or a church service. While what I have in mind is primarily the type of childcare or nursery that one would find at many Protestant services, my criticisms also extend to the sort of children’s liturgies of the word that one might find in a Catholic setting, too. Such practices seem to be a mostly modern invention, and I can find little evidence prior to the Reformation of any sort of children’s services. Regardless, that it’s a new development is hardly a sufficient reason such things be avoided—although it may be a reason for wariness. Rather, childcare in church, children’s services, and the like should be avoided because it prevents the proper formation of children.

But childcare in church allows us parents to get so much more out of it…

Maybe. But is church primarily about what you or I “get out of it”? What sort of message does this send to our kids? It at least communicates that matters of faith are primarily individual (they’re not), and at worst communicates that they, our children, are a distraction. Even more than that, we’re teaching our children that worship only happens when we’re comfortable and focused.

One can hardly imagine that during the Sermon on the Mount that entire families did not gather to hear Jesus and—as he spoke—there weren’t children crying or laughing or roughhousing. One can hardly imagine the same guy who said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them…” (Mt 19:14; Mk 10:14; Lk 18:16 ESV-CE)—who became indignant that his disciples would even suggest children be sent away—also saying, “Unless, of course, your kids distract you. Then send them off with Peter for an hour and pick them up on your way out.”

Children are able to pick-up far more than we often assume, and participation in the Mass or church service can be catechetical. One day after the first reading, Jack responded, “Thanks be to God.” I didn’t teach him that. He was two years old at the time, and never had seemed to pay any attention to what was going on around him. Now, at three, he knows many of the responses, will say the Our Father with us, and has a lot of questions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to make him out to be some sort of child wonder—it’s not like he’s responding in Latin. He’s still the same kid who dropped-trou in the sanctuary (twice) immediately after Mass while we visited with friends. But the amount he has learned simply sitting through Mass each week is amazing.

But wouldn’t he have learned so much more in a setting designed for children?

The Mass isn’t primarily catechetical, and regardless of how much Jack’s learned, he like everyone else, should be there. While there are significant differences between the Catholic Mass and most Protestant services, we can probably agree that Sunday worship is a matter of justice—what is owed God. While we all hope to be edified by the homily or sermon, that’s not the primary reason one ought to attend church.1

Additionally, sending our children off to another room is an abdication of one of our chief parental duties: to catechize our children. If we want to teach our kids the faith, we should first and foremost set an example at church each Sunday and on holy days by worshipping together as a family. Lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi: As we worship, so we believe, so we live.2 The ancient church understood that how we pray or worship is intricately interwoven with what we believe and how we live. What our children need is not another catechetical program or a playroom to keep them occupied, but to learn to worship with the Church… and that is primarily done by, well, worshipping. We should guard against conflating church with ‘Sunday school.’ There is a place for the latter, but it does not fulfill the obligation of worship. This includes children’s liturgies of the word, too (although, I have more patience with such initiatives since children return to their families before the Eucharist).

“… for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”

It’s often the parents that are most sensitive to their children’s behavior at church. After one particularly challenging Mass with Jack, an old-timer commented on how much he enjoyed seeing him there. There’s no way he could be talking about my child, I thought. But time-after-time I’ve learned that most people are encouraged by the sight of families at church.

Those that aren’t thrilled to hear a fussy baby or energetic toddler perhaps need to be reminded that “… whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (Mk 10:15). It is no coincidence that the story of the rich young ruler immediately follows Jesus’ encounter with the children in all three synoptic Gospels. There is a clear contrast between the young ruler and the children. The rich young ruler has kept all of the commandments, but cannot enter the kingdom of God because of his attachment to material things. Children, however, have no material possessions and naturally live a life that more closely resembles a life of Christian poverty. If children provide the model disposition for entering the kingdom, why on earth would we cast them out of the sanctuary? In this might be the strongest argument for children in church: That they teach us how to enter the kingdom of God!

The problem with waiting for our children to be “ready” is that such a benchmark doesn’t actually exist. I’m not advocating for anarchy nor am I suggesting that swift justice won’t ever have to be delivered in the form of an ear-flick. There are situations where it’s prudent to remove our children from the service or Mass. We’ve personally found that certain ages have been more challenging than others. That toddler phase, in particular, where kids are mobile but can’t quite reason yet, has certainly been the most difficult season in Mass for us (we spent a lot of time chasing Jack around in the narthex during that phase). Had we waited for Jack to be “ready”—and if by “ready” we mean he understands most of what’s happening—he still would not be attending Mass. What would that “readiness” benchmark look like anyways? What does a child need to be able to understand or do in order to “properly” worship God? If we take Jesus at his word, they simply need to come as they are.

Our responsibility as parents is to “train up a child in the way he should go” (Prv 22:6), forming them properly so their loves are ordered towards God. Immediately after stating the greatest commandment, Moses exhorts Israel, “You shall teach [the commandments] diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise” (6:7). The commandments are inextricably intertwined with right worship, and even a casual reading of the Old Testament reveals the disaster that follows when Israel fails to faithfully worship God. If we want to form our children properly, it needs to begin with worship—and that takes place within the Church.

But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. (Lk 2:19 ESV-CE)

Dear Jack,

Tis’ my favorite liturgical season: Advent! We had a lot of fun this past weekend post-Thanksgiving preparing for the upcoming season—but man, you had a particularly challenging day yesterday (‘challenging’ is parent code for you were a nightmare). And it has me rethinking exactly what we’ve been teaching you—or not teaching you—about Advent and Christmas.

It all started yesterday morning as we made our way home from Mass. We had grabbed a few stars from the ‘Star Tree’ to support families in need this Christmas season. After explaining to you how all of this works, you politely informed us that you wanted *all* the gifts this Christmas. Things got worse at home after you were less than impressed with the new nativity book we bought you. This time, however, you weren’t as polite and promptly melted down after demanding we get you a new book. Things didn’t go well for you from there…

Anyways, you’re three years old. So while you definitely experienced the totally appropriate consequences of your actions (alright, so they may have been a *bit* over the top—not my best parenting moment), I do realize that you’re just figuring out what this whole Christmas (and life) thing is about. And as tough of a pill it was for me to swallow last night, I did come to the realization that as your parents we are culpable for most shortcomings in your understanding of what this season means. It’s become very clear that just because we don’t teach you something doesn’t mean that you’re not learning anything. And everyone from family to friends and neighbors to the wider culture is currently teaching you something about Christmas. It’s time for us to catch up.

Alright, here are twelve things that I want you to know about Advent and Christmas:

1. Advent is a time of preparation. Jesus’ return is good, but it is also serious business. Jesus issued a clear warning in the Gospel reading yesterday:

   “But watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap. For it will come upon all who dwell on the face of the whole earth. But stay awake at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man” 

   (Lk 21:34–36).

   There’s work to be done! Much of it can’t be done on our own, but we can participate in that preparation through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

2. One of the best ways to prepare yourself during Advent is receive the sacrament of reconciliation. You’re not quite old enough for this yet. But when you are, I think you’ll come to find that confession is a powerful way to shine light in darkness.

3. Advent is a season of patience and waiting, so make space for silence and solitude each day. This might seem at odds with what I was just saying, but it isn’t. Maybe it’s more appropriate to say that a lot of our preparation is becoming sensitive to the Spirit working around us. When we busy ourselves—even with ‘spiritual’ tasks—we run the risk of missing what truly requires our attention in a given moment (see Lk 10:38-42). Fasting, almsgiving, reconciliation, etc. are all good things, but can be empty gestures if not done with the right disposition. Silence and solitude help create space for the Spirit to guide your life. I highly recommend finding time for such things early in the morning.

4. The best way to get to Jesus this season is through our mother Mary. What better model of preparation and waiting than Mary, who responded to God in perfect faith? If you still don’t believe me, find time each day to meditate on the nativity story in the beginning of Matthew and Luke each day during Advent or say the rosary daily. Drawing close to her will draw you close to Jesus. She has been a great source of comfort and encouragement to me, and I hope she is for you as well.

5. Those things (or people) that bother you, that you just can’t seem to change, are likely those things God is using to make you more patient and charitable. I mostly include this as a reminder for myself.

6. Christmas was not based on a pagan holiday (although one might argue that it has become a pagan holiday, but that’s for another letter). Such beliefs are the result of poor scholarship in the 19th and early 20th century that unfortunately continues to find life on bad internet blogs. This point deserves its own letter.

7. Santa Claus is real. We’ve gone back and forth as parents in how we’ve wanted to handle this. Fortunately for us, even when we told you that Santa Claus wasn’t real, you just seemed to ignore us. We should, however, call him St. Nicholas to not confuse him with the commercialized Santa Claus (who does not exist). St. Nicholas’ story is far more interesting than what you see in most Santa Claus movies anyways. Learn about it!

8. Speaking of St. Nicholas, there are some fantastic feast days during this season! One of the first, appropriately, is the feast day of St. Nicholas. Then there’s the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception. And the day after Christmas is the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. There are quite a few others that deserve mentioning, but you can look them up. Like Mary, these saints can inspire us, encourage us, and help draw us closer to Jesus.

9. Christmas is both a holy day and a season that lasts for twelve days. While the first day that commemorates Jesus’ birth is very special, the other eleven days observe crucial events that give Christmas added depth and meaning. Celebrate and reflect upon the whole season!

10. There’s not a better season to evangelize than Christmas! Sure, many (most?) people are not celebrating the true meaning of Christmas. But what a great opportunity to remind people that gifts and material things that we often celebrate, or think will satisfy us, won’t—no matter how big or expensive. As C.S. Lewis once wrote, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

11. The first Advent and Christmas seasons were full of anticipation and joyful moments, but also confusion and tragedy (see the Feast of the Holy Innocents). Even in times of sadness and confusion, I hope these seasons remind you of God’s providence and His love for us. It is unlikely that Mary and Joseph fully understood what was happening, but they remained open to the Spirit. If you find yourself overwhelmed in this season, Mary and Joseph are two saints you can go to.

12. The true gift of Christmas is that Jesus became man. How absurd! How magnificent! That is truly crazy, right? That God would become man and dwell among us! I pray that the wonder of the incarnation is something that you fall deeper and deeper into.

This letter is as much for me as it is for you. Your sense of wonder and excitement around all the mundane aspects of life have been a great source of encouragement to me. Daily Mass with you has been one of the joys of my adult life, and I’m excited to share this Advent and Christmas season with you.

We love you very much.

Love,

Dad

Luke 2:19

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