You can lay your head on my chest,
You can feel the warmth of my embrace,
You will know my love,
You will find rest,
In Me Alone, In Me Alone

Having a son has been an emotionally disruptive experience. Prior to becoming a father, I shed a lot of religious baggage, and preconceived ideas about God. I accepted the futility of trying to be a good Christian, and actually began to experience this thing we call unconditional love.

And it changed me.

But then I had a son. And holding that son as a newborn, a young baby, and now as a toddler, has challenged my perspective of God once again.

I don’t think I truly lived until I held my baby boy in my arms and watched him go to sleep. Such peace and security on his face.

Now he’s a toddler, and when I help him to pray before bedtime, he mimics my tone. If I whisper “Dear Jesus”, he whispers “Dear Jesus”, trying to be just like his daddy. He’s not just dependent on me, he’s excited to be with his daddy.

You can’t not be changed by that.

When I consider what it must feel like to be Austin in that moment, I realize that I have never felt this way with my Heavenly Father. And I suspect that many others have not either.

Many of us become Christians with the image of a Heavenly Father tainted by our experience with our earthly father. And we are quickly told that we must mature, and become ready for meat, not milk.

In doing this, our heavenly childhood is cut short and we skip right to becoming adopted adult children of a God that we’ve never grown up experiencing as Daddy.

Austin will someday see me as Dad instead of Daddy. But his image of me as Dad, will be shaped by years of being held in my arms, looking at me as Daddy.

That experience, being held in daddy’s arms will be a foundational part of his emotional makeup. It will shape how he sees the world, and eventually, how he sees God. Part of my job as as his daddy is to make sure that he experiences God in that same way.

Have you ever felt as if you were being held in this way by your Heavenly Father, can you call Him ‘Daddy’, without feeling strange? Do you feel too old for that? Or maybe it feels like calling a stranger by a very intimate name.

I believe that this is an experience He never intended us to grow out of. Surely we mature, we experience more complex emotions, and face more difficult experiences with our faith.

But there’s power in that experience of feeling loved as a thoroughly dependent child, with our head on Daddy’s chest, listening to His heart beat, with no expectation other than that we just sit there and be with Him.

When is the last time you sprinted for the simple joy of going fast? Don’t count exercise, don’t count the time you almost missed your plane, and don’t count the time you were chased by a bear.

When is the last time you ran as fast as you could, just because you could?

Ask the same question to a young child and you will hear “today”. Ask me, and the answer is “I can’t remember, it was so long ago”.

Can you rush without feeling rushed?
Can you work hard without feeling stressed?
Can you work your hardest at something just because it feels good?

In my life I have sprinted for a variety of reasons. The three that I remember the best are:

1. I loved the feeling of running fast.
2. It was a necessary part of what I was doing.
3. I was running to or from something in fear.

The act was the same, the motivation, state of mind, and emotional impact was very different. Sprinting can be done under enjoyable, neutral, or awful circumstances. Regardless, you’re running as fast as you can. The only difference is how you feel when you get done.

From Fear To Necessity

There will be times when you need to work hard. This is unavoidable. If your heart is consumed with fear, these times of hard work will be stressful. You will feel as if you are running from something you can’t see.

Because we are not cavemen, these fears are usually unfounded. Most of us will not be eaten by bears if we fail at our next project. We react as if situations are life threatening, when in fact, the only thing in danger is our self-worth, and need for validation.

This simple truth allows you to look at those times of hard work differently. They become nothing more than the sprinting done by an athlete in training. It is simply necessary, not scary. Regardless of whether you succeed or fail, you need to do it.

Panic does nothing to improve the odds of success, it just makes it harder to do good work, and we are usually in no real danger. So we can reach a point where we are no longer operating out of fear, instead, tackling our next project like a weight lifter gripping the bar. It is necessary.

But is this the best we can hope for? Do children sprint across the playground just because it’s necessary? Do they chase each other across the soccer field because it’s just a part of the game?

No. They do it because it’s exhilarating.

From Necessity to Exhilaration

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love.
- 1 John 4:18

Perfect love casts out fear. All fear. Not just the fear that grips our hearts in times of panic, but also the subtle fear telling us that pure exhilaration is childish. The fear telling us to act our age, not to stand out, not to draw attention to ourselves.

Moving from fear to necessity is only half the journey. Children don’t just run, they run and laugh. Because they were created to do so.

God’s never intended us to simply work hard because it was necessary. He definitely did not intend for us to work hard out of fear. He created us to co-labor with him in everything.

When we are disciplined in our awareness of his constant presence, we can reach a place in our hard work, where it is not just necessary, but exhilarating. This experience releases something deep inside that has long been shut down.

The joy of work, the joy of sprinting. Not alone, but side-by-side with our Heavenly Father.

Broken

Many of us are broken in too many ways to ever reach this place without lots and lots of healing. Some of us have been living out of fear for so long that we can’t hear the word deadline without feeling anxious.

Nonetheless, we were created for better. We were created to run fast, work hard, and to feel the exhilaration of the presence of God while we do it.

It’s in you, but only He can let it out. And only you can let Him in.

For most of my life, I have been a perfectionist, only participating in activities I knew I could succeed at. To others, it appeared as if I was good at everything I tried. Because of my careful selection of activities, I usually was.

The thoughts that went through my mind, as I evaluated the probability of success went something like this:

• Can I be good at this?
• Can I appear good for someone who’s not invested any time?
• Can I seem funny at it if I’m not good?
• Will I look stupid?

I was terrified of actually trying my best, and not winning. Or, if I didn’t win, at least getting people to laugh. Losing, and looking weak, or stupid was not an option.

So now, as I’m walking through my 4th decade of life, I like the idea of having faith in God’s ability to do more through me than I’m capable of on my own.

But the measure of this does not lie in the success of things I’m familiar with, but in my willingness to step out of my comfort zone, beyond the end of myself.

There are ideas for things I’ve wanted to try that have been on my mind for over a year. Or two years. And yet, here I sit, doing the same things that I feel good at. Things I’m comfortable with. Things I know how to do.

I’ve reached the end of myself.  I’ve done all I know how to do. The next things seem unfamiliar, and I’m stuck here because I’m scared of the unknown.

This is where the substance of my faith and familiarity with God begins to show. When will I boldly step into the unfamiliar, not because I feel ready, but because I trust that He is capable of guiding me through?

My resolution for 2011 is to boldly fail at something I’m scared to try.

Please don’t leave me
Please don’t leave me
I always say how I don’t need you
But it’s always gonna to come right back to this
Please don’t leave me

These words are from the song “Please Don’t Leave Me” by the artist Pink. I heard it on the radio today, and it hit me in a way that I’m sure was accidental on her part.

Forget for a moment that this song is about a dysfunctional relationship (hence the punching bag reference in the lyrics). Just focus on the hook:

Please don’t leave me.

Who says this?

More importantly, who feels this? And deeper still, who feels it but doesn’t realize it?

Maybe it’s a child watching his parents fight.
Or a lonely high school kid losing his first girlfriend.
A wife who sees her husband coming home later and later each night.
A husband who fears his wife is unhappy with him.
An adult watching their parent slowly die.

Please, please don’t leave me.

We can surround ourselves with as much respect as money can buy. We can insure our cars, houses, and even our limbs. We can build so much independence that we rely on nobody for anything.

But, when we’re alone, when the voices of affirmation stop, and when we come face to face with our own emptiness, I believe the cry of our hearts is the same.

Please don’t leave me.

We fear being alone, being abandoned, of being orphaned in a world that accepts only those who belong to somebody.

The fear of being abandoned, forgotten, disregarded, and alone is rooted so deep in our subconscious that most of us are unaware of how much it affects our actions and thoughts every day.

This is by design. We were not created to be alone. We were created to live life in communion with our creator. Not simply to sit in his house once a week and pray, but to walk together as Adam did, through both work, play, worship, and rest.

Psalm 139:7 – Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

The presence of God is not an abstract thing. It is real, and it is the most healing, fulfilling experience that any of us can ever have on this earth.

When you give up on trying to be good enough to please Him, holy enough to please others, having the right words to say, or any of the other stuff we use as excuses to avoid Him……when you let go of all of it and just let Him hold you, the way a father holds his baby, in that moment His perfect, unrelenting, unwavering love hits you like a tidal wave.

The reality of that experience, and our avoidance of it is why we have those words in our heart, the words that cry out when we least expect:

Please don’t leave me.

And then I felt the need to explain why it was going so great. But I had no answer.

So I said, “I don’t fully understand it, but I guess I don’t have to understand something to enjoy it.”

Reconcile

Why do we feel the need to reconcile everything? Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we learn to account for every penny, dot every ‘i’, cross every ‘t’, and have a reason for everything that happens.

Everything must happen for a reason. Everything must have an explanation. Everything must be earned, everything we have must be deserved.

Wonder

My son Austin does not know why the coffee grinder makes such an awesomely loud noise. He has no idea what it’s doing. But he loves it. And every morning, when I turn it on, his face breaks into a huge 8-tooth grin.

He also thinks opening and closing doors is awesome.

Have you ever stood next to a huge waterfall? Close enough to feel the mist as the water crashes on the rocks? Me neither. But I have a good imagination.

I imagine the feeling of extreme smallness.  The realization of how powerless I am next to such a force of nature. And then there’s the impossible quantity of water that flows over that waterfall every day.

It just. Keeps. Going. Every day. All day. It never stops. Even though I understand how water gets from there to here, the sheer magnitude and scale of the thing boggles my mind.

So at some point, I just stop trying. I stop trying to figure out how it all keeps working, and I simply stand there like Austin by the coffee grinder, with a big grin on my face.

And on some level, I hear myself say:

“That. Is. Awesome.”

Unfair

Bad things sometimes happen to good people. For reasons we can’t explain. Evil people sometimes prosper. And we can’t explain why they’re not dead.

Sometimes we don’t know the whole story. Sometimes we know just enough to drive ourselves crazy while we try to balance the scale.

We try to explain tragedy, justify blessing, validate increase, and reconcile loss. We just want everything to make sense. But sometimes it doesn’t.

In this life you will see and probably experience suffering. Some of it will be because of decisions you’ve made. But some of it will not be.

You will tire of people trying to explain it, giving reasons. Long after you’ve stopped trying to justify your suffering, people around you will still feel the need to explain it, not for your sake, but for their own.

You’ll also experience blessing. Sometimes as a result of your decisions. Other times, not.

Oh You Shouldn’t Have….

Nobody likes giving a gift to someone who doesn’t know how to receive gratefully. You’re excited because you know it’s something they’ll love.

All you want is to see them enjoy it.

You’re not giving it because they deserve it, you’re not giving it to get something in return.

All you want is to see them enjoy it.

But when you give it to them, they get all weird, acting like they’re ashamed to be getting it, trying to think of something they can give you in return. Trying to figure out why they deserve what you’re giving them.

And all you wanted was to see them enjoy it.

I’m That Guy

So when I find myself trying to explain why the guitar lesson business is thriving, and justify it’s success, I have to ask myself “Am I that guy?”

Am I the guy who can’t enjoy something unless I think I deserve it? Am I that guy who can’t enjoy something unless I completely understand it?

Maybe I need to simply look at it like that waterfall, appreciate it’s awesomeness, stop trying to understand it, and just be willing to say:

“That. Is. Awesome”

Sweet Release

Let me tell you what sweet release means to me.

Several years ago, my wife had an operation on her foot that left her nearly helpless for weeks. Unable to walk, there was little she could do but lie down, bear agonizing pain, and hope for some relief when she took pain meds.

I got the call a few days after her surgery. All I could hear as I picked up the phone was “Anthony, I need you!”.  I raced home to find her in excruciating pain, and with eyelids swollen. Her throat was starting to swell. The pain medication had triggered an allergic reaction.

We raced to the ER, as much as you can race with someone who cannot walk, in pain almost too great to talk.

I have never felt quite as powerless as I did that day. Powerless to provide comfort, powerless to provide relief, powerless to fix anything. As she laid in the ER bed, eyes closed due to the pain, the doctor injected her with something that must have been from heaven.

The look that came across her face is burned into my memory. Sweet release, played out right before my eyes.

That’s what sweet release means to me.  The memory of that day, the day I was powerless to help. The day I watched my wife go from unbearable pain to sweet, peaceful rest in a matter of seconds.

Quieting The Storm

The days leading up to our ER visit had been like a quiet storm. Constant pain, broken sleep, more pain. A storm of discomfort and anxiety. By the time we reached the ER, it felt like a tornado.

Jesus said it’s not those who are well that need a doctor, but those who are sick.

Maybe you’ve got enough money that you can ignore the deep, inner pain that so many people deal with their whole lives. Maybe you don’t know any people who’s lives are a wreck. Maybe you never see pain.

But for many of us, people like me, we’ve reached a point where we are not among the well. We count ourselves among the sick, the broken, the hopeless.

For 30 years of my life, I wrestled with so many deeply rooted issues of significance, worthiness, fear, and at times depression. No amount of money, or friends could hide the fact that something was wrong.

The picture of how I felt inside would look much like Lori’s face right before the medication hit. A tired, worn-out soul, a heart bruised and covered with scar tissue, too hurt to know that there was anything better.

..from the grip of these chains

One day, my first set of chains broke off. They were the chains I had been using to convince myself that nobody cared about what I had to say. Chains around my own self-worth.

And when they broke off, I broke down. I don’t know which was stronger, the grip the chains had on me, or the grip I had on those chains. But the feeling I experienced as they dropped was like nothing else I had ever been through.

That day, the storm inside quieted for the first time I could remember. I felt like I could breath for the first time. A millstone had been lifted from around my neck.

And when I looked up, I saw a God that had not been putting his foot on my neck to keep me down. Rather, he had been waiting, all those years, to take my pain, my heartache, my chains.

Waiting for me to walk by his side, released from false obligation, unbearable expectation, fear of failure, and the constant fear of abandonment.

That’s why when I hear the words of this chorus, the words come from a place inside so deep, that the tears often prevent me from singing.

Confronting Sin

Pat’s statements about Haiti being cursed because of their ‘deal with the devil’, brings each of us face to face with our own willingness or embarrassment about confronting sin.  Let’s forget for a second the timing of Pat’s comments, or even what he was referring to.  Forget the situation, the people, the messenger, and ask yourself “Am I willing to call sin, sin?”

Forget about Pat Robertson for a second. The fact of the matter is, if you’re like me, you’d never say anything like that whether it was right or wrong because you’d be too scared.  And God wants to change that. There is a time and a place for us to confront sin. Jesus did it, his disciples did it, and so must we.  The Holy Spirit will tell you when and how, but to act as if we can go through life, and pretend that everything around us is OK, is naive.

So, Pat was wrong, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not afraid to say the right thing when the time comes.

Sin and Consequence

What do you actually believe about the protection or lack of it, when we live by, or ignore a relationship with God?  I am not going to address this on the national, but rather on a personal level.

The fact is, when we walk in relationship with God, through Jesus, we have two kinds of protection. The first is the supernatural protection that you read about in the Bible through miracles. The second is the insight and foresight that the Holy Spirit gives us when we allow him to live through us.

If you live in relationship with God, and live according to his principles, you will avoid many, many things that other people have to deal with. Both because of his protection, and because of the simple fact that his principles work. In the areas that you ignore him, you will inevitably experience hardship. But not all hardship is because you’re ignoring God. The two principles are not mutually exclusive.

But if you do not live in relationship with him, and you open yourself up to all manner of ungodly influence, the consequences can be fatal.  This is not because God is judging you, but rather because he has already judged the sin, and you’re walking right in it. He’s offering relationship to protect you from the things that will harm you, and when you choose those things over him, the curse of those sins comes walking into your life like a virus on the hands of a dinner guest.

Just because Pat Robertson gets on TV and crassly states that God is judging a country right after they experience their worst disaster in centuries, that doesn’t mean that we can discount the fact that in our own lives, our sin will lead us to the very things that God will warn and protect us from.

It sounds unrelated, but at least for this Christian, they are not. I’m not in the nation-judging business, but part of what Pat Robertson said stirs an uncomfortable pot in my spirit. I think it’s wise to realize that a bit of truth mixed with a lot of crazy, still has a little truth that we can extract for ourselves.  And the truth is, sin takes us in the opposite direction of God’s protection.

The Problem With Pat Robertson

So now that I’ve wrung the only positive things from Pat’s statements I could find, let me talk about why I think he should have gotten prayed up before getting shaved up that morning.

Timing and Tone matter. Jesus was not a blundering idiot. He was a master of nuance, tone, approach, and wording. Because the Holy Spirit gave him the words and when to say them. Negative tone combined with bad timing can be extremely hurtful.

I don’t claim to be a biblical scholar. But I know the voice of God. And I know a bit about how he speaks to, and about, those who are hurting. And he doesn’t say what Pat Robertson said, when Pat Robertson said it.

God may send someone to tell a country to repent from witchcraft. But when God sends them, the buildings will still be standing.

When the buildings are in shambles, when the people are dying and in desperate need of hope, God offers his love, not his judgment.  How do I know?

Because in our darkest moments, God does not come at us with fists, he comes at us with open arms. Because when we are hurting, we are most aware that we are desperate for hope and love. There is a time and place for accountability, for strong words, and difficult truths. But that time is not now. And Pat Robertson should know that.

Pat, I wish instead of sitting in your thousand dollar chair, blaming judgment and curses for people crushed under collapsed buildings, you had instead listened to the voice of God and said this.

“Our prayers are with the people of Haiti in the midst of this terrible tragedy. I call on Christians around the world to pour out the love of our God to that country right now. To show his mercy and love to those who are hurting. Give of your finances bountifully, and pray without ceasing for those still in need of rescue. And be a source of hope to those around you who have none.”

That was the tone needed for the timing of that day.

“Some days I have to choose between taking a shower and eating.”

This is the kind of thing you get to hear when you’re not paying attention to what’s really happening in your household.  Unless you’re unfortunate enough to have a spouse that can hold everything in.  Thankfully mine cannot.

After Austin was born, our lives were turned upside down. Lori went from career woman to mother in 24 hours. At first, I was very helpful, making sure she didn’t have to do an any laundry, dishes, cleaning or cooking.

After a week or two, I got comfortable and lazy. And because she’s awesome, Lori picked up the slack. If I didn’t do the dishes, she did.  If I forgot to bring the laundry up from the dryer, she did.

I conveniently ‘forgot’ how much work she was doing at home taking care of a newborn, while I sat in my comfortable chair at a desk. I assumed that since she wasn’t complaining about anything, she must be getting better at this mothering thing and able to handle some of the housework again.

The problem is, none of my information was from outside my own head. Lori never told me that she found herself sitting around wondering what to do with her time. I never asked her if she still wanted me to keep doing all the housework.

I just stopped.

And we stopped talking about it.

Then one night, thankfully, she couldn’t take it any more and we had a very uncomfortable talk.  I listened to her describe her day, realizing how inattentive I had been, and how close to depression she was slipping.

All while I sat at my desk drinking coffee at work every morning.

It would have been much easier if she had been accusing me of being lazy, and not caring. Then I could have just gotten defensive, and we could have both felt entitled to something.

But as she poured out her heart to me, she wasn’t accusing me, she was practically begging for help. Because she was trying to do it herself and she needed my help.

You may be intuitive, you may be perceptive. But I challenge you to ask your spouse today if they need your help in some way you don’t know about.

Unless you ask, you’re just guessing.

But we were created to love, endure wounds, and to be healed.  Not to build up scar tissue around the part of us that most resembles our creator.

My Baby

Yesterday, my 11 month old baby boy pulled a wooden stool down on top of his head as he fell backwards onto our hardwood floors. I ran upstairs to find him in my wife’s arms crying.

Then he stopped. His little head rested against her chest, and those normally sparkling eyes slowly closed.  And my heart nearly stopped as my wife cried out “Why isn’t he crying?”

In that moment, I felt an indescribable fear, a prelude to the pain that would certainly follow if those eyes did not open again.

40 minutes late, as we left the ER, it was very clear that he was fine. But I was not.

Several month into our journey as parents, I laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling, feeling an anxiety similar to what a skydiver must feel before leaping from a plane.  It’s the anxiety you feel knowing that you’re engaging in something you love, but knowing that you’re also exposing yourself to the very real danger of being hurt.

Having a son has uncovered some very tender parts of my heart.  There are times when I hold him that I feel my chest might burst with happiness.  It’s more powerful than how I felt when I got married.

That’s because my heart was not always so free to love recklessly.

Scar Tissue

As a teenager, I was a drama king, and had no idea what depression was. I went through numerous emotionally taxing relationships. Upon graduating college, I quickly experienced another gut wrenching disappointment, and began to build up my defenses. Protecting myself from getting hurt again.

By the time I reached 26, my heart was so callous I could barely feel any emotions resembling the love that had allowed me to get so scarred. Then I met the woman I knew would become my wife.

My heart slowly began to thaw as I approached my wedding day. I wrote a song to propose to her, and as I wrote it, I spent more than an hour in tears, as I felt the flow of emotion that had long been absent.

As I played it for her, more tears flowed.  Tears that she didn’t fully understand, and that I am only now starting to understand myself. There were several times over the next year where my heart seemed to melt a bit more.

By the time my son was born, my heart seemed free of the callous scar tissue that had once protected me from getting hurt.  And the emotions flowed freely.  It has been wonderful.

But as I lie awake staring at the ceiling, I considered the possibility that I could lose both of them. A small voice told me that unless  I kept myself from loving too much, I would certainly be hurt so deeply by that situation, I could not fathom the pain that would follow.

Think deeply about that. I was scared of loving my wife and son too much because of how bad it would hurt if I lost them.

It’s the same feeling that caused me to begin building up scar tissue around the hurt areas following my stream of hurtful relationships. An effort to protect myself from future wounds.

But what I didn’t realize then was that scar tissue prevents as much as it protects. To experience love requires sensitivity, and scar tissue that protects you from hurt, also prevents you from feeling, even when you want to.

That night, I realized something profound.

If the worst happened, if I lost those that I loved so much, my biggest regret would be that I didn’t get  and express as much love as I could possibly could while I had the chance.

The Point Of No Return

The little scare with our son reminded me of that truth.  I am in this too deep to back up. I am hopelessly in love with my wife and my son. If something happens to them, I am without a backup plan. I am vulnerable because I love them.

I was created to love them recklessly, without restraint, and without anything protecting me from hurt.  I was also created to carry inside me the one who can heal any wound, and the one who pours out the love that flows through me as I love them.

Living a safe life by restraining our love is not living. It’s survival. We were not created to simply survive, we were created to live. To love. To hurt. And to heal.  So if you’ve been protecting your heart because you’ve been hurt, consider taking your foot off the brake, give Jesus the drivers seat, and love like you were created to do.

But this past year has been full of projects that seemed to follow longer arcs than I’m used to. From the starting point to the ending point, there was enough distance and height in the arc for me to lose sight of why I started on this project, and unable to see the finish point, and unable to see the ground to know how high this arc had taken me.

It’s not a perfect metaphor, but it’s the best way I can think to describe some of the things that happened.  I’ll just share one example.

My dad was unemployed for about 9 months starting in Sept. of 2008.  At some point in spring of 2009, on one of their trips to visit us, we jokingly suggested that he look for a job in State College. We said that if he got a job here, we could hire my mom as Austin’s nanny instead of putting him in daycare.

It started as a joke, but the more we thought about it, we realized how many ways this could work, and how great a blessing this would be for them and us.  My mom was very, very overworked, my dad needed a job, and we needed a nanny.

The vision was very clear back then. So when my Dad got a job offer in State College, it seemed like it was a quick work of God. A month later, he moved up here. My mom could not move at that time, as she was so deeply rooted in her two jobs, she could not simply pick up and leave.

It took over two months for my mom to finally move up here for good. And even then, for the first month or so, she was back and forth a lot visiting with her dad who was in the process of going home to see his maker.  I remember thinking right before she moved up here, how it seemed like so long ago that we ever had this idea, and now, literally 6 months later, it still wasn’t ‘finished’.

Our vision was for my parents to have a secure home here in State College, for my mom to be free of the demands of her jobs, and for everyone to work together to make our unusual household run.  Instead, we had my parents living apart, my dad working hard to adapt to a new job, my mom trying to clean up after years and years of being solely responsible for too many things, Lori preparing to return to work, and I had just left my job to continue running my guitar lesson business.

This was not the picture we had in our minds so many months ago. I felt like we were at the top of a very long arc, unable to see where we started, and unsure if there was an end to this arc that connected with the ground. But I felt God telling me that this was the nature of long, drawn-out projects, even the ones that he starts.

Unlike the quick, can’t-catch-my-breath projects that are over and done so fast, these slow works of God require a strong relationship, especially at the peak, when you’re the farthest from anything that looks like the dream that you began with, and the reality of the finished work.  Without that relationship, you’ll be tempted to get distracted with something else that looks easier to complete. Or to try and force a quick end to the project.

Only when you know God’s voice will you hear him say “I started this. It’s real. It will be finished.”

Of course, there’s always the situations where we started on some project that was never ordained by God, and we find ourselves in this situations, just with a different response from him.  Although, hearing his voice is a great way to avoid finding yourself on an arc with no end.  If you find yourself there, you still need to have that relationship, to hear him say “Not this way, not right now.”

Either way, the arc, the project, the time, none of it is the focus. Those are just things we do. The real key is why we do it, and that’s directly connected to our relationship with Him. If that’s intact, there’s no arc too long for us to follow.