Kenny Luck - Dream: Have You Caught Gods Vision?

No man likes regret.

That's why we work so hard to make sense of our lives. We want to contribute, be meaningful. Sometimes we may sense our calling. But my problem, and the problem I see so often in guys, is that when we get serious about our legacies, the ways we go about finding them are shallow and performance oriented. And when we inevitably fail, we're left with the very thing we didn't wantregret.

I'm truly the worst at this. I grab what looks good in the moment, chuck the vision I really wanted, and realize only later what I've done. Recently, I began to wonder if this pattern is a reflection of me and my own desire for significance, or if it's a broader problem. After all, our instant-gratification, media culture convinces many of us to trade our dreams for the flashy and extreme. But when I consider how I've tried to escape regret and selfishness, and when I aim for true significance in my life, I realize I'm searching for a vision that's uniquely mine. And to do that, I need the right focus coupled with the right disciplines to sustain my motivation and move me in the right direction.

Oh. And did I mention the journey can't be boring?

I'm a hare who needs to think like a tortoise. The bunny will torch out and lose. The tortoise will finish the race. But that old turtle just doesn't grab my attention. He isn't fun to watch. Now, he does have a plan, and he's going to work it. And I admire himI'd love to have that sure, steady characterbut that isn't the kind of dream for me. I'd need multiple races to keep going that long because, like the hare, I'm always looking for the next goal, and the next, and the one after that.

But what if there's a way to fuse the turtle's character with the rabbit's passion? Who do you think would win that race? I want the passionate pursuit of the greatest vision for my life to be one that's loaded with excitementbut also built on a solid foundation. And as a hare, I need a plan that prevents me from skipping out one lap before the finish line.

We all experience obstacles in our dream of significance, to be and do something great. It's a nearly universal struggle to first find the dream, to stay with it, and to express that passion in the right ways. So here it is, in this book, the personal plan I've developed for truly significant living.

But let me confess at the outset: I was embarrassed to find the answer. I had missed it beforeand it was there all along! You know when you're desperately looking for your keys, and then you look down and see them in your hand? This solution was that sort of shocking simplicity for me, the kind that reveals God's design so perfectly.

If you start applying this plan, I believe you'll make some shocking discoveries of your own. Feel free to e-mail me your thoughts. I'd love to hear from you.

Dreaming big with you,

Kenny Luck

Founder, Every Man Ministries

Men's Pastor, Saddleback Church

when God gives glasses

It is imperative that we know what it means to see, to hear, and to discern the things of the world to which we truly belong.

MARK CHIRONNA

They are all staring at me.

Lori's wig is crooked. She's got a nine-year-old and is losing her battle with cervical cancer. To her left is Paul. He has pancreatic cancer and his wife, Evelyn, will lose her partner of forty-seven years in only four weeks. To his left is Beth. She just had a lumpectomy, lost her left breast, and is beginning a chemo regimen. Her engagement to sing her first solo concert at the Kennedy Center has been canceled. The other side of the room is not looking much better. Bill's abdomen is distended and he looks as physically uncomfortable as his wife does. They don't even have the comfort of a diagnosis. To their left are Maya and William. They just got run over with positive biopsy results and resemble emotional road kill: blank eyes staring at speckled tile and no signs of life. Sitting next to them is Mike. The wrapping on Mikes head can't mask the huge divot of missing skull from a surgery that removed a glioblastoma from his brain.

As I look at him, I can't fend off the thought that he's a goner. His kind of cancer is not the kind you survive. His chin is in his chest and I can't see his face. His new wheelchair makes him slump. I can't tell whether he is doing well today or not.

By contrast, Michelle is supremely visible. Outwardly perfect, she is flanked by her two perfect girlfriends. Their perfect world, perfect nails, and perfect makeup suggest all is very well. But Michelle's insides betray her outsides. Blond and beautiful outside, but bellicose and bitter on the inside. She is losing her fight with an aggressive breast: cancer. The trip to Japan to explore experimental therapies was a failure and she's back with us in Orange County. On this night, in this room, the big C is defeating the OC.