Wishin', hopin', thinkin' and prayin'...

I am not an overtly religious man. Meaning, for better or for worse, I don't wear my religion or my beliefs on my sleeve for all to see. I see people who can and do do that, and I admire them for their love, their honest conviction in their beliefs, and the courage they display as they share the message of God with others. I am just a bit too shy and a bit too private a person to do that. Prayer is an intensely private thing to me. It's between me and God and no one else. Maybe that makes me a crippled Christian or something, but it's who I am. It's how God made me.

Most Sundays, my daughter and I attend the 11:15 morning service at Christ Fellowship here in McKinney. It's a bible-based church, where you just come as you are. No suits, no ties, unless you feel the need to wear them. Most people wear jeans, and a lot of them bring their iPads, iPhones and grande half-skinny half-1 percent extra-hot quad-shot lattes with lots of whipped cream from Starbucks. (I'd just like a small cup of coffee, please.) Seriously though, everyone is really nice. It's a great church.

One of the things that makes it great, apart from Bruce Miller's always amazing sermons, is the music. This morning, it was breathtaking. I do not know the names of the two women who were up on the stage this morning, but their singing and harmonizing was, for lack of a better word, angelic. One of the songs they sang today was called "Surrender" by Lincoln Brewster. They said a little prayer prior to singing the song, saying that no matter what is going on in your life, let it go. Give it up. Put it in stronger hands than yours. You could be having personal problems, health problems... you could be out of a job....


I'm giving you my heart, and all that is within
I lay it all down for the sake of you my King
I'm giving you my dreams, I'm laying down my rights
I'm giving up my pride for the promise of new life


And I surrender all to you, all to you
And I surrender all to you, all to you


I'm singing You this song, I'm waiting at the cross
And all the world holds dear, I count it all as loss
For the sake of knowing You for the glory of Your name
To know the lasting joy, even sharing in Your pain 



Yesterday, I found out that I am not going to be considered for a co-manager job at a national grocery chain. I had interviewed with them twice, but after the second interview, I had bad feeling that they did not feel I was going to be a good fit for them. I think they were concerned that I wouldn't stick with it when something else came along, even though I had made them a promise that I would. The thing about it is, I would have stuck with it. For me, a promise is a promise. I would have stuck with it no matter what. But I guess they didn't believe me, because on Saturday I received a postcard saying "Thanks for your application. Good luck in your job search." I told my wife and she cried for a short time, because we had been working on this for some months. I had warned her beforehand that this might happen. After the second interview, I just had a bad feeling about it. That maybe it wasn't going to happen after all.

The odd thing is, after I read the postcard, a feeling of JOY passed through me. Like I had dodged a bullet. Like, what was I thinking, applying for that job? Am I so ready to lower my expectations and accept the first thing that comes along? Did I really want to stock shelves and work 60-plus hours a week, including all weekends and holidays? One of the emotions that drives a job search is fear. Fear that nothing better will come along. Fear for your future and the future of your family. Fear that you'll lose your house, your possessions and your standing in the world.

I think I took a small step this morning. A small step toward taking a deep breath, clearing my head, and surrendering at least a small part of that fear.