Talking about Jesus with non-Christian friends is a lot like talking about sex with children. The parallel is imperfect, I know. Still, I'm surprised at how much insight can be drawn from such a comparison. Think about it with me.

First of all, conversations about Jesus or about sex are best done in the context of relationship. Not that open-air preaching or 7th grade health classes are inappropriate; they're just not the most effective. Such significant conversations typically work a lot better when nurtured by hours and hours of developing and observing a trustworthy relationship. Just like kids are naturally inclined to trust their parents for life's most important lessons (provided, of course, that the parents generally prove themselves to be trustworthy), non-Christians will be a lot more willing to listen to a friend sharing about Jesus if they're confident that the friendship is a real friendship: not just some bait-and-switch evangelistic technique. On the other hand, if some stranger just walks up and starts unloading on a non-Christian about Jesus, or unloading on an elementary school kid about sex, it just feels perverse and inappropriate. On rare occasions, such random interactions can work out all right -- especially when involving direct questions and audience-appropriate answers reflecting a sense of delicacy and propriety. But more often than not, the uninitiated can walk away from these out-of-the-blue interactions feeling violated and disturbed.

Secondarily, my experience suggests that Jesus-education and sex-education work best when given in small doses -- not in one awkward, overwhelming information dump. With our children, for instance, my wife and I started their "sex-education" very young -- with simple bath-time reminders about the privacy of one's private parts (aimed at protecting them from any kind of inappropriate touching). As they grew and became aware of their bodies, we spoke frankly with them about the proper names and functions for each part of the human anatomy. And when we sensed the time was right -- based on a subjective analysis of their mental development and social stimuli -- we deliberately filled them in on the more complete picture of how sex works and what sex means. With our children, this has pretty much meant "full disclosure" by early elementary school age: not too early in life, before they were really ready to handle such information, but not too late in life either, after they'd already figured things out for themselves through alternative sources of information (or misinformation). Timely, relaxed, contextualized, candid, and considerate communication has informed our children's sex-education each step of the way, and as a result we've never really had the awkward "moment of epiphany." Their awareness of sex has simply developed as the rest of their consciousness has developed. It's been great, honestly. But how often do Christians get to experience this same dynamic in their attempts at "Jesus-education" among their non-Christian friends?

Too often, we put too much emphasis on "The Talk." And too often, this happens too late in the relationship (if ever). Perhaps it's because this is how we, ourselves, first learned about Jesus or about sex -- but our minds naturally seem to drift towards this image of a single, solemn, monumental presentation of all the relevant information in one sitting. We get nervous about giving "The Talk," but eventually we psyche ourselves up for it and plow through it with little awareness of how the information is actually being received. Then, we give a little slap on the back, say "I'm glad that we had this talk," and then go on about our business without ever checking back in for further processing. It doesn't work well for middle-school children learning about sex, and it doesn't work well for non-Christians learning about Jesus.

Finally, the attitude of the initiated toward the subject sets the tone for everything. Those of us who are coming from a place of experience can make it seem really awkward and uncomfortable -- even as we're trying to say how natural and how great it really is to know Jesus, or to experience sex. It's in our non-verbals, as well as the language that we use to describe things. If the initiated individual is comfortable talking about the subject, then the uninitiated will also feel comfortable most of the time. But awkwardness breeds awkwardness, and sometimes these conversations can go so badly that we're emotionally-scarred for many years thereafter.

I don't always handle these conversations perfectly -- either with Jesus-education or with sex-education -- but I'm learning as I go. And if you ask me, learning is a very good thing.

I can understand how some people would feel a sense of pity when looking at a freshly-shorn sheep -- maybe even sympathetic shame at the animal's sudden sense of nakedness. But putting myself in the place of that sheep, I think the moment after a shearing would be my favorite moment, when my ovine joy would be at its peak. Personally, I just love the feeling of freshly-clipped fingernails, freshly-clipped toenails, a freshly-shaved face, and a freshly-cut head of hair. It feels like a moment of rebirth. A fresh start in the world.

Today is one of those days where I've got it all except for the haircut. Isn't it funny how such a random set of circumstances can change my perception of an otherwise random, dreary, mid-winter Wednesday? Today I'm thankful for little moments of awesomeness like this.

Our family had the privilege of bringing in the New Year in a very old place: Rome. These are some of my favorite pictures from the time in Italy.

After three lovely days in Pescara for GCE's Awaken conference, we took some time for our family to enjoy the old Caput Mundi. Our kids enjoyed themselves, but I found it challenging to impress upon them how remarkable it was that we were walking around in the cradle of Western civilization where some of the earliest foundations of the Christian faith were laid and where Caesars and popes have ruled throughout the centuries. I don't know how much we succeeded in getting them to appreciate the glory and grandeur of Rome, but I sure enjoyed it. The sense of history is palpable in Rome, yet it also remains a thriving urban center today in 2012. It was a very unique setting for the New Year's holiday (with an extra bonus of sun and mild temperatures during our visit, as well!).

During our time in Rome, I was impressed with the words of Psalm 31:14-15, where it says, "But I trust in you, LORD; I say, 'You are my God.' My times are in your hands."

This is my hope and prayer for 2012: that I will grow in trusting God and walking by faith, content in the knowledge that my times (as turbulent and chaotic as they may often seem) are in God's hands. I don't think I'm going to make any other resolutions this year except for an actualization of Psalm 31:14-15.

As we approach the end of 2011, I've been trolling through the last year's worth of entries in this space. It's fun, and I feel like it brings genuine insight too. I appreciate the sense of perspective afforded by such personal historical archives.

Initially, I thought about compiling some sort of "Top Ten" listing for 2011, but in the end I decided to condense things more in terms of themes and trends that I've noticed from the last year. Below are some of the things that have stood out to me the most.

First of all, I observed that my kids have grown a year older in 2011. It's shockingly noticeable. They just keep changing and developing, and my love for them continues to change and develop right along with them. I'm unspeakably grateful for Elliot, Olivia, and Cor. Our family in general. Marci and I  celebrated our 13th Wedding Anniversary in 2011, as well, which I consider one of the greatest experiences of my life to date. As much as they all cause me frustration at times, I feel like my family has been one of the greatest sources of blessing in my life -- 2011 notwithstanding.

Also this year, it really stood out that our family got to visit some amazing places: Belgium, France, England, Greece... and of course various places in the Netherlands and the United States as well. I've been privileged to travel quite a bit throughout my lifetime, but this year was exceptional. There are wonderful memories from each of these places -- walking among the ruins of ancient Philippi, losing and then regaining a backpack in Brussels, walking along the sheer whit cliffs of Etretat, walking through London's Hyde Park with the autumn leaves falling around us -- but perhaps my favorite traveling experience of the year was my personal retreat at the Benedictusberg in the beautiful hills of Limburg. For many years to come, I think, 2011 will remain in my ind as a year of memorable travels.

2011 also happened to be  the year that my paternal grandmother, Elizabeth Asp, passed away in July. She was a very special woman, who left behind a rich legacy both in word and in deed. Her Memoires of a Minnesota Pastor's Wife remain one of the best books that I've read in 2011 (and I have to say that I read a lot of good books this year!). I now have one surviving grandparent, in North Dakota, and I hope that I might get to see hm again in 2012. Their generation is a particularly special generation, having lived through the Great Depression, the Second World War, and many other significant events in America's "Golden Age." I feel the heaviness of history more directly on my shoulders as they gradually pass.

Also in 2011, I noticed that I spent a lot of time thinking about church, both in general (as in "The Church Universal") and in regards to the specific body of believers whom I serve as pastor. It was actually a really refreshing year for these kinds of considerations. In retrospect, I can see that 2010 was a really dark and difficult year for me, ministry-wise (dealing with the departure of my beloved co-pastor, taking on more ministry responsibilities that were outside my areas of natural gifting and experience, nearly burning out in the process); but 2011 was a kind of spiritual reawakening for me. It wasn't a perfect year of ministry, by any means, but I felt God's nearness through it all. By God's grace, I can take satisfaction in the last year of ministry.

So those were some of the main themes and trends from 2011... A good year, in many ways. I'm sure there are plenty of new adventures for the year ahead -- but I will walk that road by faith.

A few weeks ago, I had a really bad bike day. It involved three separate tire punctures (on two separate bicycles)... a broken and mangled spoke on one of the wheels... and at least four separate instances of the chain falling off one of the bicycles (with each instance requiring several minutes of messy fingerwork to get things back on track). Quite a bit of my time was wasted, the skin on my hands was stained and chapped from the conditions, and the repairs cost me all the cash I had in my wallet. It was a very bad bike day.

Two tire punctures and three chain disengagements into the day, I had a brief emotional breakdown. After ten or fifteen minutes of futility in trying to get the chain back on the bike that still had two properly-inflated tires, I cried out to myself: "These stupid chains are the bane of my existence!"

But then, just after the words escaped my lips, I had to smile and laugh at myself. I realized that if stubbornly-disengaged bicycle chains were the bane of my existence... well, then my existence was probably not all that bad. I still had my health, to walk instead of to ride the bike. I still had a bunch of bicycle parts that did work in spite of the difficulties. And I had enough money in my wallet to cover all the repair costs. Ironically, a feeling of gratitude washed over me as I considered this "bane of my existence."

Today, I've had a similar experience. Our central heating unit sprung a leak very suddenly and unexpectedly, and when the technician came to take a look at it we received the dreaded news that the entire unit would need to be replaced. An expedited order for a new CV ketel was placed immediately, but in the meantime we have to go about 24 hours without any heat or hot water. That's twenty-four hours in one of the the coldest, darkest weeks of the year. And to get everything back on-line, it's going to put a serious crunch on our bank account...

Not exactly the tidings of comfort and joy that we like to consider at this time of the year.

But with the lesson of the stubbornly-disengaged bicycle chain still relatively fresh in my mind, I've been able to count my blessings today. If a cold house and a depleted bank account are the banes of my existence... well, then my existence is really not all that bad. In spite of the mess and money, we still have a home that shelters us from the wind and rain outside. We have plenty of blankets and extra clothing to pile on for the night. We have an extra space-heater that we were able to borrow from friends. We have the financial means to arrange for the necessary repairs. And really, no matter how uncomfortable things might get tonight, it looks like it's all of a 24-hour "ordeal" -- absolutely nothing compared to what so many people around the world have to deal with on a daily basis. We have so much for which we can be thankful. Even when the things around us are bad, God is good.