WAY-ward.

Instead of a traditional greeting, the teller at the bank welcomed me by saying in a rather curt tone: “Don’t you want to bank on your own terms?” “I don’t follow,” I replied. “Well, don’t you have an ATM card? You can make this deposit at the ATM. Do you have the mobile app? You can make this deposit at home. Don’t you want to bank on your own terms?” I said, “I suppose this is me banking on my own terms. I like going to the bank. It’s a part of my routine. It keeps me disciplined. Besides,” I threw in for good measure, “I tried your app and it doesn’t work.”   Zing . Unimpressed, she replied, “What if it snows? What if you don’t want to drive? What if you don’t have the time? Don’t you want the freedom to do everything on your own terms?” I said, “I guess not.”   This rather mundane interaction left me with a bad feeling. On the one hand, I couldn’t figure out why a teller was trying to work her way out of a job. On the other hand, I felt conflic...

When I arrived at work on Tuesday, I found the grass at church unacceptably long. In the front of church it was bad. In the back of church it was terrible. Our lawn was over a foot high. The grass had gone to seed. And because we pay people to cut it, I was annoyed. No, actually, I was angry. And so, I grabbed my phone and called our landscape crew. When they didn't answer, I sent a text:  I need you to cut the grass. Get to St. John ASAP. When you arrive, find me. I’ll be the guy on the tractor doing your job.  After launching my text missile, I patted myself on the back, hopped on the John Deere and started mowing. As I mowed, I seethed.  I’ll show them , I thought to myself. And like a self-made martyr I carried out my task hoping my sacrifice would bring guilt-inspired change.  I hope they feel terrible that I’m out here doing this!  I expected relief to come in about an hour.  They’ll get my text and rush over , I said. They didn’t. In fac...

As I left the Hodge Ave parking ramp adjacent to Children’s Hospital, I was struck by the joy in front of me. I pulled onto Elmwood Ave. on a beautiful May day and was simply taken aback at the busy and jubilant world around me (80 degree days in May will do that to Buffalonians). The patios were overflowing with cheerful patrons. The sidewalks were bustling with hipsters. The roads were busy and rushed. The world was awake and alive. I was completely stunned. See, I had spent the day in Children’s hospital with my daughter Delaney who had a routine operation. Because of her prior health issues, the doctors decided to keep her overnight. Around 8PM my wife, Kate, returned to the hospital to shift duties with me: she’d stay the night with Delaney and I’d go home to manage the other two through the night and the morning. When I left, I had spent 13 hours in the hospital… 13 hours talking to people in scrubs. 13 hours in artificial light. 13 hours pretending to be “okay.”...

I’ve run away a lot. When I was real young my parents told me “no” all the time. So one day, I ran away and moved into the bushes next to the garage. In high school my brother and I got in a fight at youth group. Embarrassed, and confident that my pastor and parents were going to kill me, I ran away. I ended up walking the streets of Jamestown, NY all night. As my high school career came to a close, my girlfriend and I had plans to attend college together. We broke up. I ran away. I felt a call to be a pastor when I was in the fourth grade. I ran away. I felt it again in high school. I ran away. It hit me ferociously in college. I still ran away. I run away a lot. One of my favorite cartoons features Linus from Peanuts. He says, “No problem is so big or so complicated that it can’t be run away from.” Linus is right. We can run away from virtually everything. And we do. The phone rings and we hit the red dot and not the green. We cross the street to avoid our neighbor...

Three minutes after the Buffalo Bills lost last Sunday I found myself surrounded by a world of hostility. Texts came in from angry and disappointed friends. I too felt frustrated and annoyed. The next day in the car I listened as the hosts on sports radio and those that called in lamented with pure exasperation. No one was happy. Four days later hope resurfaced and optimism emerged. Then, they lost again. And the hostility increased. Now keep in mind this is just a football team we’re talking about. When you compile this reality with all the other actually important aspects of our lives (a world at war, police shootings, police shootings [redundancy intentional], an inane election, etc.) the result is an environment that is overflowing with discouragement, aggression, and irritation. All of which is fertile ground for anger and argument. The anger in this world is palpable and on display. We hear it on the radio. We see it on TV. We experience it in the workplace. It finds...

Peace is scarce. Peace - that is, tranquility, harmony, serenity, stillness, calmness - it is a rare thing in most of our lives. On the contrary, tension and turmoil, anger and agitation, fear and worry are often ever-present aspects of our days.   There is strife in our politics, bullies in our schools, catastrophes in creation, cancer in our bodies, and worries in the workplace. Even when that which disrupts our peace is not that upfront or outright, we still have to reckon with everyday busyness. We have to-do lists that keep getting longer, schedules that are increasingly packed, and demands that keep demanding to be met.   Look around and you will find a people “on-the-go.” Running from here to there. Multi-tasking at all times. Connected in all instances. Physically in one place, while their hearts and heads are somewhere else. Peace is scarce. And the consequence of this peace scarcity – of the tension, tempo, and turmoil we live with – is often angst and ...