His old late \u201890s pickup rolled up in front of their house and seemed to settle into place with familiar creaks in the suspension and pops of gravel still stuck between the treads from the dirt road that brought him home.<\/p>\n
After he turned off the ignition, he sat for a moment, enjoying the quiet. A couple of bicycles littered the front yard, expressly left where they had been instructed not to be left just the day before yesterday.<\/p>\n
The kitchen light burned brightly, and then the silhouette of his amazing wife flashed past. \u201cFlashed past\u201d is no exaggeration as she seemed continually to move 90 miles an hour in that house.<\/p>\n
She was Super Mom to two grade-school boys, part-time (more like full- time) receptionist at one of those downtown boutiques, an experienced chauffeur to the block and chaperone to everything happening with those under 15 in that small town.<\/p>\n
Add to that list the multi-page resume of experience in volunteer positions all over their church, ranging from mentoring to childcare to janitorial and anything in between. She was amazing.<\/p>\n
He felt himself breathe out the words, \u201cI wonder how long it\u2019s been since I told her that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hearing his own voice, he realized his internal conversation was making its way into the real world, and it jarred him into reality. Time to start his second workday.<\/p>\n
He gathered his bag and jacket from the bench seat of the truck and left the worries of the day job behind, as much as he could, knowing it would start all over again tomorrow at 7 a.m.<\/p>\n
Swinging the front door wide open (one of his favorite parts of the day), two boys paused a brutal smackdown via video game long enough to greet dad at the door, the younger with a hug and the older a fist bump. They stood there long enough to answer a question or two about their day, but Dad knew what they wanted to hear. \u201cOK, good to see you, boys. You can go back to your game.\u201d No further urging was required as they resumed their game without missing a beat. Their eyes were on the screen, but their voices were directed at him as they said as if in rehearsed unison, \u201cLove you, Dad!\u201d<\/p>\n
As he stepped through the dark dining room and settled against the doorway of the bright kitchen, he saw her, in all her frenetic energy.<\/p>\n
Wearing an apron and armed with a spatula, he could see she already had taken care of dinner. He must be later than usual.<\/p>\n
Her head was cocked to the left, pressing a phone to her shoulder as she bustled around. There was a 70-80% chance it was her mom or sister from back home, which she missed so much. She mouthed the words \u201cI love you,\u201d then glanced at the clock before mouthing, \u201cAbout 30 minutes?\u201d<\/p>\n
He kissed her on the forehead and then slipped off to get a head start on his other job. Maybe these 30 minutes would give him enough of a head start that he could go to bed at the same time as his wife.<\/p>\n
He walked down the hallway to the spare bedroom they call an office and closed the door behind him. It was a third bedroom which was cleverly disguised as a bi-vocational pastor\u2019s office:<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t much of an office, but he wouldn\u2019t have to worry about that for too long because in about 18 months, when his oldest became a teen, he knew this office would become a bedroom once again. His 12-year-old son, currently rooming with a 9-year-old brother, never failed to point out this fact at family meetings.<\/p>\n
Turning on the desk lamp, he pushed away a stack of papers while glancing at the bulletin board. There was a schedule pinned up for the current series at the church, reminding him he was already behind on his preparation for this weekend\u2019s message continuing through the book of Ephesians.<\/p>\n
He knew he needed to pour into some study. He should read the passage in multiple versions, study some commentaries, try to figure out some original language stuff and, oh yeah, maybe pray about it.
\nThat thought threw a quick shiver down his spine.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s not that he didn\u2019t want to pray; he loved prayer. But it was a reminder to him that his own personal devotions had suffered under schedule that could only be described as undoable: working 7 a.m. – 3 p.m. five days a week, coaching every afternoon, caring for a young and active family and then trying to pastor a small rural church that had enough meetings to steer a church five times its size!<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t even studied the passage, and he knew he still had to come up with a fantastic outline that was simple enough for the lost to hear the gospel, yet deep enough to give something to Sister Sally who\u2019d been grading sermons for more than 50 years. He needed to produce argumentation, thoughtful exegesis, powerful (yet never-before-heard) illustrations, notes for the bulletins, PowerPoint slides for the screens and direction for the song leader who wanted all this yesterday.<\/p>\n
He likes preaching, but he doesn\u2019t love it. What he does love kept creeping in under the door to this makeshift office:<\/p>\n