Outdoor barbeques and Texas summers go hand in hand. This one Texas summer was no different. I was a young boy, probably in my early teens, when we had the “swing chair incident.” I remember it so clearly. We were over at a friend’s house, and we were having lunch outside—barbeque, cole slaw, corn on the cob and some cold iced tea.

My buddy, Chris, and I had just got our lunch plates, and we were looking for a place to sit down. Glancing around, we noticed that the swing chair was empty. The wooden chair was suspended by two chains that held it to a branch about 25 feet in the air. It could easily seat three people.

As we sat down and started to eat, I looked up at the branch and then back down at Chris, and said, “Wouldn’t it be weird if this thing broke right now?” He laughed. I laughed.

WAM! It broke, and we tumbled to the ground with food all over our laps.

Neither of us moved. We just stared at each other, our minds were trying to sort through what just happened. Had I not said anything, we would have just laughed it off, but the swing chair prophecy had come true within seconds.

I can’t say I was walking with God when this happened. I had been to church a few times. I had probably even prayed a few times. But, as for a devote believer, no, I wasn’t there yet.

So, where did that thought come from? Was it God? Was it the devil? Or, just a very odd coincidence?

I believe that it was God speaking to me at an early age. At that time, I didn’t have any clue what I was doing, or that God would even speak to me. It was just a thought. But today, I understand that this is how God speaks to us most of the time–through our thoughts. The challenge is learning to discern which thoughts come from him.

When I have a God thought, it doesn’t sound any different than my own thoughts. It’s my voice, my language, my improper grammar, my tone and even my emotion—which makes it really hard to discern at times. Had I known how to discern his voice back then, I might not have had to bathe myself in potato salad.

The other day in my quiet time, I was journaling my thankfulness to God, and he responded with this wonderful message of love, but it wasn’t just for me.  I felt like this message was for all of his children, those who call upon Jesus.

When I was writing it down, I found myself cautiously capturing the words; whereas before, I would just enjoy flowing and writing and hearing—mistakes and all. But now, I wanted to be more cautious because others would be reading it.

I don’t like having a “cautious walk with God”. Rather, I want to chase him, pursue him, dive completely into what he wants for me.  I don’t mind making mistakes when it’s just me and God. He knows my heart, and I love to just jump into his presence like a three-year old jumping into his daddy’s arms—giggly, slobbering, messy, but madly in love with his Daddy. But now, with other three-year olds on the playground, can I still be that way with my Dad? I hope so.

So, with that, I share my journal entry with you from a few days ago, a little giggly, slobbering and messy:

Today is great day, Father. A great day! I celebrate the life you have given me. It is really, truly blessed and amazing! So amazing! Lord, I have life because you have given me life. You have given me eternal life! Lord, I am so grateful for all you have done and all you are doing and all you will be doing in my life. I can’t say thank you enough. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Son, I appreciate your thankfulness. I really do. I can’t tell you the number of Christians who call me Father who woke up this morning stressed, tired, unthankful—who went off to work like any other day, and never said anything to me. I’m not mad, son. It just breaks my heart, because I love them so much. So much. I just want to spend time with them.

Too many of my children think I bring calamity into their lives to “teach them a lesson” or to get their attention. That’s wrong. It’s not true. Would you take a stick and hit your child, and cause him harm just get his attention? No, that’s stupid. I woo and call and whisper into the hearts of my children. Calamity comes when they go their own way, do their own thing, and take matters into their own hands.

I can’t help a heart that goes its own way. I can only help a heart that is committed to me and listens to me. That’s my greatest desire for my children, to be fully devoted and committed to me. Why? Because I love them and I desire to help them in every area of their life.