Roger Olson @olson_roger

For Our Mothers For all mothers, in whom we were fearfully and wonderfully made; who cradled us under their hearts; who suffered sickness, swollen feet, and our prenatal kicking; let us give thanks to the Lord. For Eve, the mother of us all, in whose womb all our human stories begin; the first mother to spill tears from a broken heart onto the soil of her child’s grave; let us give thanks to the Lord. For Mary, the mother of our Lord, who believed the word of God preached to her by an angel; from whose breasts the Creator himself was nourished; whose heart was pierced to see her Son die and leaped with joy to see him alive again; let us give thanks to the Lord. For stepmothers, who love and care for another woman’s child as her own; for grandmothers and great-grandmothers, who pass on wisdom and spoil little ones with prodigal grace; let us give thanks to the Lord. For all mothers, young and old, in whose bodies the astonishing miracle of human life has its genesis; without whom none of us would live; from whom many of us learned what sacrificial love truly is; let us give thanks to the Lord. Happy Mother’s Day! Thanks be to God for you all.

Life Is Too Short to Dream Big Dreams Many years ago, I made a decision that redirected the rest of my life. It was a career change, but deeper down, it was profoundly more. It was a life change. This is what happened. At the end of 2006, I drove a U-Haul from Cincinnati to Oklahoma City. I had twin goals: finish my Ph.D. and land a teaching job at one of the Christian universities in that buckle of the Bible Belt. It seemed doable. After all, I had the education, the experience, and a few publications. Surely a position would open up. The only drawback? I’d be living over four hours away from my two young children. At the time, my daughter was eight, my son six. But we’d make it work. Somehow. Someway. I transformed half of my apartment into a study. Got a part-time job loading FedEx trucks. Worked my mind during the day, my body during the night. All the while, I was putting my career plan into action. I researched the local universities, brought my CV up to date, made contacts with the heads of various departments. And every couple of weeks, I would drive those four long hours to spend a few fleeting hours with my son and daughter. Then I'd turn the car around and drive back to the city, to the apartment, to my books. And to my dreams. My big dreams. But a strange thing was happening to them. The brilliance they once had was fading. In fact, they were slowly being swallowed by darkness. And the darkness, it was swallowing me, too. Every time I saw my children waving goodbye, inside me a dark presence was waving a blade, slicing away at my heart. As I stared at the pages of my books, I saw no letters, no words, only the faces of my children. One day I walked about that place I had tried to make home. I realized it was a prison cell to which I held the key. So I made the decision. It took a few months. There was a short course to complete. Moving plans. A couple of interviews to arrange. But by the summer of 2007, with a Commercial Driver’s License in my wallet, I was behind the wheel of a semi, driving in the oil and gas fields. Most importantly, my new home was about three miles from where my children lived. I was able to take them to school and pick them up on my days off. We played in the park down the street. We swam at the local indoor pool, all year long. We made up for lost time, grew closer. But my dreams of being a professor, well, they were dead. And I confess that, in times of selfish weakness, I still muttered to myself, There go my years of study. There go my aspirations. There goes my life. But on those mornings when I hugged my children, told them I loved them, and watched them walk from my car into the school; on those summer days when they’d run ahead of me down to the park for an hour or two of play; all those times when they’d scurry through the house, bang out the back door, and jump on the trampoline, calling for me to hurry and join them, I’d smile and say to myself, There goes my life. There goes my daughter, overjoyed to be with her Daddy. There goes my son, looking up to a father as only a son can. Indeed, there goes my life, in those two young gifts of God. The hardest truth for me to learn was that big things are of little worth. Big careers. Big achievements. Big dreams. No thanks. You can have them. But I'll pass. Give me an ordinary career, a simple life, time with my wife and children. Give me little dreams, little aspirations, an ambition only to try and love as best as my feeble heart can. Life is too short to dream big dreams. They tend to devour everything that gets in their way, including family. Now, looking back, especially since my twenty-one-year-old son went to heaven in 2022, I am even more grateful for the time we had together, reveling in the ordinary. At the end, when we look back, let's gaze on our children, our spouse, our friends, our church, and our flesh-and-blood Lord, and say with humble joy: Look! There goes my life.

What the heart trusts, the mind justifies, the emotions desire, and the will carries out. Everything follows the heart.

🚨 GIVEAWAY 🚨 We're giving away THREE COPIES of @Beale1Gk's (@RTS_Dallas) new @BakerAcademic book, "Union with the Resurrected Christ!" Follow and Retweet to enter. We will DM the winners at 6 PM PST!

@JoeBiden Another good reason I’ll be voting Rebublican

@DougBurgum Beautiful work! Will prints be made available for sale?

This is great from @birdchadlouis “When talking about God’s ultimate destination for us, we’ve grown sloppy in our language, nearsighted in our gaze, & un-Easter in our hope. We act & speak as if dying and going to heaven is what the faith is all about. 1517.org/articles/i-can…

@Tom_Schlund @birdchadlouis Amen! Such a good piece. In THIS hope we were saved Rom. 8:24

Truth

Want an easy way to give toward the Wheaton Fund during #WheatonGives? Like and share this post and you’ll unlock a gift generously donated by the Alumni Association Board of Directors with just one click!

@PastorBenMeyer @hlsenkbeil Yes, good stuff. Currently working through it with our Elder Board.

@jordanbpeterson A thought from Luther on universities…

@JoanBandy @garonnevik Amen

@hlsenkbeil So sorry for your loss. The Lord bless and keep you.

Excellent letter from Roman Catholic Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone to students at a high school that protested the presence of a pro-life speaker. firstthings.com/web-exclusives…

If Jesus didn't think he could handle life without knowing the Scripture inside and out, what makes you think you can?

@edstetzerLive @edstetzer @teedan @MoodyRadio True. Perhaps it would be helpful to more frequently use the word family rather than community. After all, that’s what we are - brothers and sisters. We enjoy (and struggle) with relationships we have not chosen but are born/adopted into - people who are gifts of our Father.

People who regularly listened to the opposite opinions did not adjust their views and become more balanced or moderate because for many people social media has become a place where they are curating a self. bit.ly/social-identit… via @timkellernyc and @gospelinlife

“We are set apart by God and not by our own willpower. Sanctification is not a project, but a gift.” H.L. Senkbeil - The Care of Souls

Why We Go to Church | 1517 1517.org/articles/why-w…