I work in international missions and happen to be responsible for a specific people group, roughly 72,000 strong, scattered across a country the size of Colorado. I have some local partners here and there, but by and large I work alone. I could probably travel 3 out of 4 weekends in search of people who need the gospel. This leads to my phobia: absentee fatherhood.
Sociologists, psychologists, and counselors routinely advertise the risks of absentee fathers. Inaccessible, missing, disconnected fathers often seem to lie at the root of a whole list of identifiable emotional and behavioral problems in teens and adults. My drive to avoid causing problems in my kids has a pronounced effect on how I approach work-related travel. Oddly enough, I tend to equate weekends with entire weeks. That is, if I am gone 3 out of 4 weekends, I somehow convince myself that I've been gone 75% of the time.
Yes, I know, it is odd; like I said, it's a phobia.
However, a few weeks ago I went out of town for an extended weekend and the family did great. It was more than fine - it was wonderful. My wife told me about all the benefits that came from my being temporarily out of pocket. That's a subject for a different post. At any rate, I shared the pleasant news with a buddy as we were fishing, a guy who has been a pastor, missionary, leader, and counselor. His take:
"Dude - I've had years in which I've traveled not at all followed by years in which I was gone 190 days. I've seen families fall apart when Dad was gone and families grow stronger as Dad traveled more. I've learned that a father can be inaccessible even if he is in town, so travel isn't the culprit. The reason travel gets such a bad rap is that the stresses brought on by a traveling father often bring to light other issues. Those issues are the things that crush a family, not the actual travel."
Hmm...."the stresses brought on by a traveling father often bring to light other issues. Those are the things that crush a family...."
His comments caused me to evaluate my family and the way in which I am there for them (or not there, as the case may be). Am I passive? Overbearing? Can I listen without interrupting? Do I respect the choices my wife makes while I am present and while I am absent?
I think we're doing ok, and I'm probably going to loosen the reins on my travel schedule. I'll be paying close attention to issues that come along. The real challenge will be making sure I don't blame travel for some real issue, something festering. It takes a certain amount of bravery to look past the surface issue (Daddy travels) and see the real problem that travel has brought to light.
Bravery, my friends. Pray for bravery.
When some peace-loving dude “humbly” tells a believer that all religions are basically the same, the believer typically responds with wet pants. That claim scares many of us. It scares us for a couple of reasons. One, we don’t know all religions. This dude seems to have studied even Zoroastrianism. Secondly, this guy seems pretty sure of himself and he also seems like he really loves peace. I don’t want to be seen as some sort of arrogant, war-mongering, and hate-filled meanie pants.
Every testimony is “cool”. And it’s kind of silly to talk about the coolest testimony ever. But I do believe there is one testimony—one that is yet to happen—that will be the coolest testimony ever.
When I first became a believer I heard a healthy dose of pleas for doing evangelism and missions. Often they came in the form of a skit of some sort that would show the hopeless chap that has not heard the gospel. At the end the speaker would say, “If only someone would take the gospel to them.”
I have an entire bookcase overflowing with books that were published over one hundred years ago. They have survived the test of time. For some of these books the truth contained within them has served the church for centuries. Sadly these gems are often left to collect dust. In what C.S. Lewis called chronological snubbery most modern readers neglect these classics to our peril. 
Matt goes on to note that “the SBC has a whole lot of unnecessary baggage that a lot of young pastors don’t want to have to deal with”. I responded to Matt, but honestly this article (and even my response to Matt at Voices) is not directed towards Matt.
When I left my dorm room I looked pretty fly in my black shirt and Levi’s. However, by the time that I got to the bowling alley and found myself under the hateful glare of those black lights I had somehow developed a horrible case of psoriasis, spilled bleach on my pants, and had a stain on my shirt that looked like Gary Coleman leg wrestling an ostrich.
to do ministry for postmodern people living in New York City and not a dairy farmer mending fences. “Stop doing ministry like you live in Kansas”, is bad advice to some guy that is actually living in Kansas.