I grew up on a farm that once belonged to my grandparents, which was located seven miles from the closest wide spot in the road (town with a gas station and grocery store but no traffic light).  The summer of my fourteenth year my parents took away my bicycle as a punishment.  My dad flippantly said, “Now if you want to go anywhere you’ll have to walk!”  He was right to be frustrated, I certainly presented my fair share of parenting challenges.  I took what he said “flippantly” as a challenge and I began jogging to town about every other day.  That’s the time in my life when I began to understand something about the how of breathing…  Breathing patterns are both functionally profitable for our lungs when under elevated stress.  They’re also aid our mental toughness during times of increased pressure.

I learned about breathing again in 1998 as I sat next to Melissa on the floor during Lamaze class in anticipation of our son’s arrival.  There were several lessons I learned during Lamaze that weren’t breathing related!  For instance, some Lamaze instructors love pregnant women but don’t really care for men!!  Another lesson I learned was not to eat at subway and have extra onions on a BMT before you meet your pregnant wife, who had during that pregnancy a heightened awareness of smells that she found offensive!  But the most important lesson I learned about Lamaze was that during delivery my job was to be there and to remind my best friend (my lovely wife) to breathe… sometimes in differing ways.

One of the fundamental trainings for snipers, those who will be in pressurized situations during critical moments, is how to control their breathing.  It seems silly but if you’ve ever been a hunter or archer you’ll understand it.  Breathing intensifies when you’re about to take a shot.  Therefore being consciously aware of it and controlling your breathing is necessary.  A former military sniper once said, “control of breathing is one of the most determining factors for quality marksmen.”

Maybe you’ve read this far and are wondering, “what’s the point?”…  What I learned at Lamaze is still applicable today.  Sometimes we need people to be there and remind us to breathe when life seems chaotic and out of control.  Spiritually, when difficulties are mounting and pressure seems normative, learning to breathe in unison with God’s Spirit is the most determining factor of how we emerge from the struggles we face.

I hope to always improve when it comes to breathing.

In the dictionary, under the word mentor we read, “A wise and trusted counselor or teacher.  An influential senior sponsor or supporter.”

John Crosby says, “Mentoring is a brain to pick, an ear to listen, and a push in the right direction.”

I had the privilege to spend some time this week with a mentor of mine.  He now lives in the Pacific Northwest and time for us to connect in-person has become scarce.  His name is Steve and he has poured into my life, lifted the bar, and helped me to believe in myself more than what comes natural for me.  In ministry, specifically evangelism, he has stretched my thinking far beyond the “church norm.”  When Melissa and I were in the infancy of seeking God’s heart as to whether we were to move our family over 600 miles and start a new church for un-churched and de-churched people, he had a profound impact on us.  He had started several churches and the largest had grown to over 6,500 in weekend attendance.  He understood the various aspects of ministry that I had not yet seen at that time.  He understood the strain ministry puts on your life, particularly as a new church planter.  He brought insight, wisdom, and challenge at a time that was highly valuable to me!

Here is what I know about mentors:

1. They have accumulated knowledge through life experience, and they have a desire to help others grow.
2. They don’t simply tell you what you want to hear; they tell you what you need to hear (and often what others won’t tell you out of fear or lack of care for you).
3. They hold you accountable in all the areas that they’ve been invited into in your life.
4. Their investment in you makes you more equipped for the journey and confident in yourself.
5. They invest in you with the hope that you’ll invest in others!

We don’t see as much mentoring going on these days as we used to in days gone by.  Many labor jobs had a required “apprenticeship.”  This was where a person in a trade would be mentored by those with more “on-the-job experience” in the same trade.   This went on until such a time that the apprentice earned their “journeyman” card.

I think everyone needs others that are pouring into their lives and stretching them!  So I wonder, who is pouring into you?  Whose voice are you allowing to speak into your life in certain areas to help you grow in that particular area?  Who are you giving permission to challenge your thoughts, evaluate your logic, and push back on your approach?

If you don’t have a personal mentor, I challenge you to look for one.  Choose wisely; it might (and likely will) be one of the most significant choices you make!

Carl was a self-professed “simple” man.  He had worked as a welder and ended his working career at a scrap yard where cars were brought to be recycled.  He was a true craftsman in woodworking and made dollhouses that, as I recall, won many awards in local fairs.  I always found it interesting because he had lost fingers on one of his hands; that wasn’t from woodworking, but another adventure in his early life.  Rarely could anything slow down Carl, including the laborsome effort to simply breathe.

By the time I met Carl, he was in the twilight of his years.  I would arrive at their house in the mid-afternoon and Carl would invite me to the back porch where we’d sit and Marie would always bring us tea.  It was on that back porch that Carl would begin telling stories of his life and experiences.  By the second time I showed up for what became a regular visit for a while—until their health became weary and my schedule became more complex and demanding—I brought a notepad.  It was a small notepad that easily fit in my back pocket and was concealable.  When Carl began talking, it wasn’t long before I began writing.  He noticed and said, “What are you writing down?”  I simply said, “I don’t want to forget some of the lessons you’re teaching me!”  He smiled and continued, a bit embarrassed but flattered I suppose.

I remember well the day that he asked me a question that was odd at the time.  His gaze was off in the distance as he looked out the window.  He said, “Do you know why the windshield of a car is so much bigger than the rearview mirror?”  I sat puzzled for a moment, hoping there was a punch line that would interrupt the awkward silence, but it never came.  He turned his head in my direction and explained his thought.

At the scrap yard, Carl spent many years looking at cars that had previously been pristine treasures now being recycled as refuse.  He said, “It occurred to me one day that the reason the windshield is so much bigger than the rearview mirror is because where you’re going matters a lot more than where you’ve been.”  That was merely one of the many gems that Carl shared with me.  I just recently visited some of the notes I took of him reflecting on parenting.  He had a sorted past; what he was sharing with this statement was personally meaningful for him—not just some flippant observance.

The next time you get in your car, remember that your past is in the rearview mirror.  Your opportunities are either in your present or future.  I hope you don’t miss them by staring at the wrong piece of glass.

As a kid growing up, I remember thinking that I was stupid.  Education never came easy for me.  As a matter of fact, it was commonplace for me to read a chapter of a book and not be able to tell you anything about it when I finished reading it.  I could watch a teacher explain facts on a chalkboard in math and look like I comprehended what they were teaching, but at the end not have a clue.

This followed me into college.  I was shocked that I had been accepted into college at all.  Given my GPA, it was a minor miracle itself that I was invited to attend any college!  Evidently, I had an abnormally high score on my ACT and they thought that I had potential.  I was surprised when I learned that if my GPA had been higher my ACT score would have warranted a scholarship.

The reason I thought I was stupid came down to my inability to pay attention to the story I’d read, or sit still when a teacher would try and educate the room from the front.  I’d daydream in order to “sit still” and “not bother others.”  I could spell terrifically and read out loud well, but I simply couldn’t put it all together to get the gist of a story.  Turns out, I have a disorder that has shed a great deal of light on my younger years. I didn’t know one kid with this growing up… it’s called Attention Deficit Disorder.  What was normative in my childhood and high school followed me into my college education.  I did poorly in a couple classes, while in others I thrived.  I’ve learned how to deal with pieces of it as an adult but it still affects my ability to remain focused, not educationally so much but in some ways that have to do with management related to my job.

All of this matters when I tell you the reality that was hard for me to be confronted with in Faculty Hall that autumn day when I was to speak about my future and finances.

As I waited in line to speak with a financial advisor for the college to discuss “my plan” to pay my “bill”, I was nearly oblivious to what would take place next.  A gentleman named Rick Raymond welcomed me as I sat down to discuss my finances and obligations to the school.  He looked at my file and then with a kind but serious tone asked, “what is your plan to address your debt?”  I looked at him and said, “faith”.  When he didn’t smile, I knew this was going to be uncomfortable, but I thought I could rely on my wit to get me through this conversation.  I was wrong.  He cared too much to let me escape the reality that was hard.  He asked if I knew how much I would pay to retake the classes I’d done poorly in.  He asked it I had a way to pay my balance from the previous year.  He made a sincere effort to help me gain understanding.  He wasn’t rude; he was honestly concerned for me…  I could see it in his eyes.

As the conversation came to a close, Rick Raymond looked at me and said something I’ve not forgotten even after twenty years have passed.  With compassion in his eyes and kindness in his voice he said, “I know this is hard to hear, but Brad, you must understand that in life that at times reality is hard.”  He signed the necessary documents for me to continue at MVNC but encouraged me to take my education seriously, and to not accrue a lot of debt in life.

Since that conversation I’ve had a different perspective.  I approached my education differently after that day.  I began to investigate the phenomenon of ADD and began self-disciplines and habits to confront it.  I ended my undergraduate studies with just under a 3.0 GPA.

Here’s to you Rick Raymond, for articulating truth with kindness that stuck.  I’m sure I had been confronted with that lesson earlier in my life, but you spoke in a way and at a time that was specific and purposed.

Reality many times IS hard.  If you choose to not be a victim or make excuses and instead face that which you are responsible for, you will be able to become the person God has crafted you to be!

During that time our family attended the Christian and Missionary Alliance Church in Willard, Ohio.  I spent a great deal of time in that church and had been under the influence of many adults who invested in the lives of teenagers.  I enjoyed being around these particular church people but the truth remained: sin had a firm grip on my life and I would be “churchy” in their presence and “horrid” outside of their presence.  I was a consumed narcissist; for at the root of sin is self, and an over-allegiance to self and self-medicating had a firm hold on me then.

I would still be around the church a great deal.  I spent time at youth functions with the group and enjoyed the time investment the youth pastor, Ralph Trainer intentionally make in my life.  However, before embracing Christ authentically, I was very two-faced in every aspect.  It was quite obvious to those that knew me both at church and in the hallways of our high school.

During this time, I became acquainted with a particular man who also attended that church.  He had a difficult time communicating verbally.  He had some disabilities and physical restrictions, but he also had a heart that cared for others.  His name was Eddie.

As is typical in a small town, everyone in my town knew the business of everyone else.  It wasn’t a secret when someone purchased a new vehicle in my town, or if they changed churches.  News travels in a small town with more efficiency than the U.S. Postal service delivers envelopes!  And my two-faced life was no exception.

I distinctly remember one Wednesday night when Eddie saw me in the hallway near the men’s restroom.  No one else was in the hallway as he approached me.  I said, “Hi, Eddie,” in my ‘Macho-Man Randy Savage’ voice.  Eddie was a wrestling fan and I’d often mimicked that wrestler’s voice as he always found it comical.  This time Eddie didn’t laugh.  He began speaking and his finger was pointing at me.  I couldn’t make out the words he was saying.  Due to some of his physical limitations, he wasn’t able to speak clearly, but his tone was direct and his face was flush.  I knew I was being admonished by Eddie, perhaps reprimanded would be a better word choice.  Honestly, I knew that my actions consistently deserved reprimanding at that time in my life.

After Eddie finished and his finger stopped pointing something beautiful happened.  His face went from stern to kind and he said, “I love you”.  It didn’t come out crisp and clear in tone and inflection, but it was unmistakable.  Then Eddie put out his arms, took two steps and embraced me.

I’d like to say that moment was the catalytic event to my authentic embrace of Christ, but I would be misleading you.  However, that moment is etched in my memory as I look back to over twenty years ago, as the moment I realized how every life impacts others.

Eddie had a profound impact on my life and on many others, I’m sure.  I attended that same church, my home church in Willard, last week.  Each time I’m in that building, I remember fondly the lesson I learned by the water fountain near the men’s restroom from Eddie that Wednesday night.  That lesson is simple yet deeply profound: every life impacts other lives.

Eddie is no longer trapped in this world with its afflictions, but the lessons he taught many of us live on.  Thanks, Eddie!

In my eyes Emile Deruy was a giant of man, but in reality he was about 5’9” and 200 lbs.  It wasn’t his physical stature that made him a giant in my eyes; it was simply his love for me that made him a giant.  It didn’t hurt that he was a volunteer football coach for our local high school, had a farm complete with big tractors, and invested in me the greatest gift of all—his time.

I’m the youngest of five kids, and to Grandpa I was the smallest grandkid.  He made it his mission to pick my brother and me up to take us to practice, and he taught us how to drive tractors.  The time that stands out the most in teaching me the lesson to “value the little things” came at 11:00pm one night.

Mom took Ray and me to Sears in Mansfield, and while we were there she did the unthinkable—she bought me my own bike!  It was in a box and wasn’t a “hand-me-down”!  I was so stoked.  My palms were sweaty and I was peering through my bowl haircut with extreme anticipation.  I couldn’t wait to get home and put my bike together, but my dad was on his fishing trip to Canada.  Who would help this 7-year-old kid put all the pieces together of this new fine ride??

The car pulled in the driveway at 9:45pm and I asked mom if I could call and tell Grandpa about my new bike.  While on that call, the lesson began.  Grandpa said, “I can’t sleep tonight.  I’m too excited about your bike!  Can I come see it?”  In twenty minutes, Grandpa and I were in the garage assembling my new sweet ride!   It was 11:00pm when it was finally all together and I took her on her maiden voyage down the sidewalk as Grandpa clapped and smiled.  As my bowl cut hair blew in the wind, I felt valued and cared for.  That’s when the lesson began to take shape.

As a Christ-follower, husband, dad, friend, and human on earth, I try to remember this extremely valuable lesson that grandpa taught me, his littlest grandkid, that wonderful night:  Value the little things.

Some of the little things I try to value are things like the laundry my wife Melissa does for our family, or the compliments I pay our kids, or buying coffee for the car behind me at Tim Hortons.  Why?  Simply because little things matter.

We’re teaching this principle to our children intentionally as well.  As a family we seek to value “little things” that could easily go unnoticed if we’d simply allow them to do so.  We value five little children around the globe, four of whom we’ve not met personally but we pray for them and try to fund their nutrition and education, they’re charming little people.  I don’t write this to boast or say “look at us”, but to say sometimes the small things can easily be ignored and as parents we’re trying to help our kids have eyes to notice.

I wonder, have you been taught to value the little things?  If so, are you?

-pb

Why would I write about this?  For a couple reasons, and one is simple, if I’ve learned something that can help someone else then I want to share.  I also want to say “thanks” to those that have invested in me.

All of us have the potential to be difference makers and I’m indebted to some very kind and generous souls that have made a difference in my life!  Stay tuned if you’re interested.

Recently, I heard author John Maxwell of Failing Forward talking about why he chose to write a book bearing that title.  He said, “I chose to write the book because everyone fails, so there’s a great market for a book on failure.”  Everyone does fail, and for some of us we do more of it than others!

Failure comes in all shapes and sizes.  Some failures are major and some minor.  Some have devastating consequences, while others have little to offer in the way of consequences.  What all failure has in common, regardless of its “shape or size,” is that it has the potential to help us grow!

There have been many situations where failure has been a valuable educator in my life and leadership.  My life is rich with failure; if failing equated in dollars, I’d be loaded!  Don’t get me wrong; I don’t set out wanting to fail.  Failing is never my intent or the target I want to hit—however, when I do fail, I want to learn from it.

I’ve met a great number of people that have allowed their failure in one category or another to leave them defeated.  I don’t want that to be the way I live my life!  When I fail, I want to be refined by it, not left devastated by it.  When I fail, I want to be better equipped for the journey ahead and not paralyzed from future action.

When you fail, you have a choice—a simple choice:  Will you allow your failings to define you or refine you?

-Pb