Beach Therapy in January

In Christ, I'm shamelessly rediscovering the joy of being shameless
by Brad Lindemann
Posted February 11, 2015

...I had a mysterious sense that I was supposed to engage this perfect stranger in conversation. So, I removed my ear buds, but before I had a chance to say “hello” she asked, “What are you listening to?”

“Praise and worship music by a band called Jesus Culture. More than a band really. They’re a movement, particularly among young people.”

“Interesting,” she said, “I’ve never heard of them. Where are you from? What brings you here?”

When I told her that we were primarily here in an effort to break my wife’s chronic pain cycle, she got a very intense, quizzical look on her face.

“Do you woo her?” she asked. Not sure I heard her correctly, I asked her to repeat the question.

“Do you woo her?” she repeated. “Love on her. Do you love on her really good? She needs that. You should kiss her on the forehead like a papa. She has deep hurts causing her pain. I can feel it. It makes me cry just to think about it. She really needs you to love on her.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. 

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Who does Joy like that?

Joy in the aftermath of murder

By Brad Lindemann
Posted February 6, 2015

I had lunch last fall with Todd, a local businessman whose wife and daughter were brutally beaten to death in their home in December of 2013 by a disgruntled former employee of the man’s company.

This has been the longest 14 months of Todd’s life. Having just passed the one year anniversary of his tragic loss, his suffering is far from over. But he is determined to persevere through it because, he says, so that his character would continue to be refined by the event and so that the living Christ within him, the hope of glory, will shine brighter because of it.

Impossible, you say?

Todd agrees.

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Dads: If you must fail, then improvise the best “failure” possible

By Brad Lindemann
Posted January 30, 2015

“Hey boys, come over here, I want to show you something!”

It was hot and I was tired and more disposed toward a glass of ice tea or a dip in the backyard pool, but I had been that kind of dad for the past twenty years, and I knew better. It was time to man-up and help my son, Bradley, Jr.—and his fellow 13 year-old swimming buddies—do the same.

“See that bungee cord wrapped around the umbrella stand?” I asked the lads. I had fixed (“fixed”) a slightly-injured patio umbrella stand by connecting a bungee cord to an outdoor couch leg. They gazed at what surely would grace the next cover of Popular Mechanics.

“You know what that is an example of?” I asked as if I’m about to unveil the secret of the universe.

“Uh well, Mr. Lindemann,” ventured Andrew, Bradley’s best friend. “It looks like a bungee cord to me. Am I missing something?”

“Look closer boys,” I said. “What does that bungee cord represent?”

I paused for dramatic effect.
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