A Letter To The 12-Year-Old Me

*It's only the first draft, okay? Any and all constructive criticism is appreciated...and I got the idea from book I read on the left entitled "Here's to Hindsight," so thanks to the author for the idea*

You've been having a pretty memorable childhood, kid. It's the stuff of movies when you think about it: Parents who love you and love each other, extended family holiday get-togethers, friends your own age all over the neighborhood, good teachers and schools, upper-middle class. Happy.

But things are going to change for you in the biggest of ways next fall. See, you dad is going to die. You'll find yourself walking around with mental shoelaces untied and nobody can teach you how to tie them, kid...and that'll be okay because it will actually be the journey of a lifetime trying to figure out how to do so.

It will start when well-meaning people try to tie those mental shoelaces for you. They'll say things like, "God has a plan." And you'll agree, but you won't like his plan. So, you'll make a deal with Him: You stay on your side of the universe and I'll stay on mine. When you're older, make sure to be thankful that he didn't hold up His end of that particular deal.

Reminders of your losing your dad are stealth and use guerilla tactics. They'll attack when you least expect it, too. It could be after winning a big game and you go home alone to an empty house; during your wedding rehearsal and no one sits next to your mom; watching your father-in-law hold your first child; watching Auburn beat Alabama in 1982--the first time in your 16-year-old life you can remember that happening; any time the most basic home or car repair is needed and you fail miserably and feel like you're letting your family down; even watching the movie Field of Dreams (which you will own on something called a DVD and might be the best movie you ever saw). I could go on. But it's okay. You'll deal. Just know the reminders are lurking.

You're going to have a great time in high school, though. Full of laughs and friends and doing enough of what it takes to get into a state-school football-factory. There's no crime in that, either...but when you're 40 people will tell you that approach to high school lacks ambition. Don't care.

You'll have a girlfriend for two years. You'll talk marriage and mean it, too. Just remember that when you work with teenagers later that a high schooler can be in love and what it means to take their trials and tribulations seriously. I can assure you they'll be serious to the high-school you.

There's going to be an English teacher named Mrs. Swindle and a baseball coach at your school--Coach Gino, who also taught English--that will tell you that it's okay to like to read a lot and write in journals and be affected by the arts. You won't be able to thank them enough at the class reunions, but make the effort, no matter how awkward it seems.

And you'll be introduced to a couple of guys who will affect you profoundly. See, part of that "deal" you made with God involved staying out of His house. You'll stick to it for 3 years, too...but a guy named David Waid will let you into his small group Bible study. He'll teach you that God's Word means something. That it's real, active, alive and able to change your life if you'll let it. Pay strict attention to Big Dave.

You'll also meet a guy named Duffy Chase. For whatever reason, he's going to see extraordinary possibilities in a very ordinary you. He'll call you. He'll take you to breakfast. He'll have you over to his home. He'll be your friend in the very truest sense of that word. But the most valuable things you'll get from Him are the reality that the abundant life mentioned in the Gospel is best shared life-on-life and that seeing potential in teenagers is crucial. He'll also give you your first youth-ministry gig when you had no idea what you were getting into.

You'll go to Auburn, just like your dad. You won't seriously consider any other college because it always felt like home to you. That won't ever change, BTW.

You'll meet some friends there. Great friends. And you'll make a series of unwise choices. Maybe they won't be to the degree of your great friends who never professed to know God and maybe they won't be as consistent as theirs, but they'll be there. You'll blow it enough to make you realize you can't really fight temptation on your own. But don't be too hard on yourself about that because it'll teach you an awful lot about God's mercy and grace and forgiveness...and a big fat dose of humility. They'll also teach you to value relationships and friendships outside the church because it'll provide a backdrop against which you can see the works of Christ in your own life...and to get to know people and try to understand them...to love everybody, whether or not their theology lines up with yours.

You'll get involved in an informal Bible study led by Charles Garland. He'll teach you an awful lot about God's mercy and grace and forgiveness, too, because he'll listen during your confession times and give Biblical insight and pray with you and love you anyway while you're figuring it out. Chuck will also introduce you to the intellectual side of walking with Christ and you'll study Francis Schaeffer together. These two men will ultimately help you find your own groove. Enjoy the ride.

You'll meet the girl you'll marry because you'll date her roommate. But there's something about Tracy's beauty and joy of living that you'll never get over. She'll walk into a room and capture your attention like no other girl on the planet. She'll always be your girl, too, and will teach you more about Christ and who you are in Him because she defines a gentle and quiet spirit that Scripture talks about. You'll admire her...but make sure to be a student of her, too. Because she's going to change and grow during your life together in ways that you'll be truly astounded by. Enjoy that process as it's happening.

And don't even get me started on your daughters. They'll light up your life on a daily basis. I won't bother to try to explain it...that's futile. But rest assured the words "Daddy's home!" when you hit the door will erase an entire day's worth of frustration.

You'll experience the two biggest and baddest things that can happen to a ministry: Failures of others in the area of money and sexual morality. Two different organizations, two different failures. Neither will be as devastating as they seem at the time. You'll learn God's got the wheel, so make sure to make that extra effort to draw close during those times. Fear will pop up. Be not afraid. 'Nuff said.

Those are the big-picture things, but before I close, let me machine-gun a few things at you:

Learn to cook stuff on the grill.
Travel away from Alabama as often as you can. It's nice, but there's more to the world than folks there will lead on.
Realize that camping and outdoor stuff just isn't you. Just because your dad liked fishing and hunting doesn't mean you have to--Manhattan, San Francisco and Amsterdam are all more your speed.
Don't worry: Hal and Smitty will be your friends, even when you're 40.
Don't get your picture taken much in the late 80's--you'll thank me for this, and don't believe anyone who that the mullet is a good look.
Your love affair with baseball will only appreciate with age.
Stick by your guns on the punk rock thing. It'll prove to be critically acclaimed long after your friends have berated you for listening to it--and the heavy metal thing was just a phase.
When you buy a house, show it love. It'll return the favor.
A "C" student in high school can get a Master's degree with honors--so don't fret too terribly much when people tell you about your potential and how you don't reach it. You'll get there, academically, anyway.

Well, Brent, that's about it. I can't really guide you through many of the specifics, but the big events and people are all in there. They will help you figure out who you are in light of who Christ wants you to be by exposing the cracks in your character and showing you how decietfully wicked your heart is...and then Christ will spackle them and make them better than new. Just know that you aren't in a position to make deals with the God of the Universe. He calls all the shots, kid.

And the shoelaces will still be untied...at least at 40.

Your Friend,
The 40-Year-Old You