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In a continuation of  my recent counseling sessions, I write here about work. First off, it should be recognized that I, all too easily, idolize work.  It becomes a measuring stick by which I judge my worth.  As a Christian, I know my worth comes from Christ alone, not from work.  And yet the human side of me tends toward this temptation.  I'm learning to guard against it. Before departing St. Louis, the board at Arch Grants requested my resignation.  I refused since I had performed admirably and had received no prior warnings.  The board threatened to withhold severance unless I resigned.  I held my ground.  I received a severance check with a termination letter a few days later. Referring back to my idolatry of work, such an immediate, harsh, and cruel termination of my role as Executive Director of Arch Grants left me reeling.  I questioned if I should have led the organization differently.  I grieved over the very public and underhanded manner in which the board maligned my

Oh, how I loathe pop psychology.  For example, How to Survive the Loss of a Love  today queried, "If you want to fall in love with someone, how about trying yourself" (Bloomfield et al, 108). Alternatively, my study of Galatians led me to this passage: "It is often said today, in circles which blend popular psychology with Christianity, that we must love ourselves before we can be set free to love others . . . But no realistic human beings find it easy to love or forgive themselves, and hence their self-acceptance must be grounded in their awareness that God accepts them in Christ" (Lovelace, The Dynamics of Spiritual Life ). In case you were wondering, I don't recommend How to Survive the Loss of a Love .

God weeps with us so that we may one day laugh with him. J ü rgen Moltmann I can't bring myself to say, "Tim died."  He didn't die; he merely passed onto eternal life where he's more alive than I.  So I say, "Tim passed."  Then I don't get weird looks as though I've not accepted Tim's departure from earth.  I don't get into a lengthy theological discussion unless the conversation's headed that direction and I honor Tim's continued existence. Immediately following Tim's passing, the question reverberating around my head was, "how does one mourn the loss of one's brother?"  Mourning is a uniquely personal experience.  Abolish rules and social constraints.  I break down in tears when I need to, without apologies.  At first, I cried about all the things Tim would miss such as the birth and fathering of his child.  But when I considered all the things Tim might be doing now, such as training in heaven to b