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Songs I Wrote in 2023: “St. Doubting Thomas” – 6th of 13

As I mentioned earlier in this series, one of the reoccurring themes in the songs I write is where I am sorting the doubts of my faith.

I wish I could move past the thoughts I address in this song. Maybe one day I can, though I already know that in the end, it’s a matter of me accepting that I am not in control and there is no way to prove it either way while I am still alive.

In the end, I suppose there is ultimately a 50/50 chance of being right about my Christian faith. Despite the odds, despite my obsession with unpacking concepts through logic, I am choosing to believe:

I don’t know how to feel – I don’t know what to do with this – Will I be thrown in the sea with a millstone around my neck? I believe I have enough doubt for a Baptist preacher to leave the faith – Will I be thrown in the sea? Like Jonah, am I the problem? Is this how I touch the scars of Your hands and thrust my fingers in Your side? What’s it like to just not question things when a lack of logic is what I find? I’m St. Doubting Thomas – I’m hanging on, Lord – I promise – If I were God, which I’m not, would I make people in my own image, then set them up to fail with The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? In a spiritual sense, you could say I’ve got daddy issues – I feel like an abandoned child held over the flames of hell like a toasting marshmallow – I find this narrative odd – Is it the Wizard of Oz back there? It’s a cryptic riddle – We’re all trapped in the middle – Should I put reason to rest and pretend?

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Songs I Wrote in 2023: “Password Paranoia!” – 1st of 13

Perhaps I am accidentally becoming the official poet laureate of your social media circle, if you’re reading this now.

Something multiple people have told me this year is this: “Your songs seem a lot like poems, actually.”

I have been writing a minimum of a dozen songs each year, ever since 2020. I realize now that it has become, and still is, my way of providing therapy for myself, as I openly admit I am exploring my way through my midlife crisis/existential crisis.

There is undeniably something consistent in my ability to extract my subconscious thoughts, concerns, and fascinations when I make the effort and take the time to write a new song.

By composing chord progressions, curating melodies, and writing down lyrics, I discover what is needing to be revealed from the inside. Sometimes it’s simply a nuance or trend I am noticing about culture. Other times, I learn a fundamental aspect about how I perceive the world, that I could not have otherwise known.

As I close out 2023, I feel it is important for me to analyze the meaning and inspiration behind each song I have written this year.

The first is “Password Paranoia!”. After I wrote this song, I realized this is a universally relevant concept right now. As a society, we indeed have a collective anxiety about feeling locked out of our own lives, thanks to modern technology.

A common theme in so many of my songs from these past several years is my honesty about having doubts in my faith but choosing to talk through them and ask difficult, uncomfortable questions. Even in this somewhat lighthearted song, I still make a reference to my back room fear that I am still not capable of knowing God.

Stay tuned, as I will be posting my remaining 12 songs throughout December 2023.

As for now, here are the lyrics to “Password Paranoia!”:

I read the book – I saw the movie – Binge-watched every episode of the series – I took notes, then from them I wrote a great dissertation – I’m standing in line at the gates of Heaven – Can’t figure this out on my phone as I’m trying to get in – Downloaded the app but still I find myself in this awkward situation – Am I logged in to a different account? I can’t figure it out – This CAPTCHA’s confusing me now – Am I human enough? Artificial intelligence is the judge – Did I get this far to mess it up? What’s my login? What’s my password? What’s my identity anymore? Where’s my way in? What’s this all for? I wish the search for security didn’t make me feel so insecure of my own existence – Can you blame me? I’ve got password paranoia! Can I cash in these points? I did enough to earn them – Turned in my receipts, logged it in to the Excel spreadsheet – Linked it to all my social media accounts – Am I still missing something? Can I cancel my subscription? This process is cryptic – Will you accept my resignation? It should be simple – Why does it feel I’m locked out? Like I’m not allowed into my own life

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Does Being a Parent Count as Working on the Sabbath?

Sunday is typically one of the most exhausting days for me; not that our family really does anything other than go to church, prepare and eat lunch, clean up, have the kids take a nap, clean the bathrooms and vacuum the carpet while they are asleep, prepare at eat lunch , clean up, and get the kids to bed.

Some might say that cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming the carpet is considered work, and should not be done on the Sabbath. I totally get that.

However, it’s the only open window to get it done throughout the week, as Saturday typically is our day to run errands and do grocery shopping.

More fundamentally though, for me, it’s hard to differentiate how cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming the carpet is more work than managing my kids. In fact, I’d say that managing my kids all day with my wife is more work than cleaning the house for an hour.

I’d even say that cleaning the house provides a bit of a break from being a parent. It gives me some time to not be needed by another human being for an hour. At least I can be in deep in thought, even though I am scrubbing toilets.

With both of my kids still being young (age 1 and age 6), taking care of them is truly a pleasure and a reward, but it’s also exhausting. It’s nonstop work from 6:30 AM until my wife and I fall asleep at 9:30 PM.

Whether a person acknowledges the Sabbath on Saturday or Sunday, I still see irony in the concept of trying to refrain from work on that day; as a parent.

Chilling out at the house all day with the family, when half of your family is dependent on the adults, is work.

It’s not resting or relaxing when I am having to remind my kids they are hungry or tired or bored, because that’s the reason they acting the way they are, and then having to feed them, help them get to sleep, or help entertain them.

As long as my kids are still young, I just think I’ll have to work on every Sabbath.

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New Book: Unstoppable God by Tracy Goodwin (Which Answers the Question, “Why Does God Allow Bad Things to Happen to Good People?”)

I met her back in April when my son was invited to her son’s 6th birthday party. Then just a few weeks later, when our sons both won achievement awards in their Kindergarten class, I needed a seat in the bleachers for my wife and I as the ceremony was about to begin. It was then that Tracy Goodwin mentioned to me that she had a book coming out this summer; about how it’s a miracle she’s even alive.

Flash forward to last weekend, as our family was driving back from visiting my parents in Alabama. My wife sat in the passenger seat, reading Tracy’s book, Unstoppable God. Meanwhile, I drove up Monteagle Mountain with tears in my eyes; tears which I hid from my wife.

It is impossible to hear Tracy’s story and not be grateful. I think Unstoppable God is an instant cure for anyone is starting to feel jaded, asking the question, “Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?”

Tracy’s book is, by default, the answer to that question.

To see Tracy with her wonderful family, you just would never guess what all she has been through. It is always inspiring to see a person choose to praise God during times others would question or curse God.

Unstoppable God is not a book about Tracy Goodwin. It is a book about how God worked through a person’s life who refused to give up on Him.

Like I always say, you have to either choose to victorious or you end up allowing yourself to become a victim.

Tracy chose to be victorious, through God’s divine intervention. Had she chosen to see herself as a victim, I don’t know that she would still be alive to tell her amazing story of overcoming impossible odds.

I am so grateful Tracy shared her story with me.

And to the first person who leaves a comment on the Facebook page for Family Friendly Daddy Blog advertising this post, you will receive a copy of Unstoppable God, as well!

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Dear Jack: You Now Volunteer to Say the Prayer before Dinner

6 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

You have made me so proud this week. Tuesday night as our family held hands at the dinner table, I was just about to pray to thank God for our food and for our family, when you stopped me:

“Daddy, can I say the prayer tonight?”

I was definitely caught off guard, but I replied without missing a beat: “Of course you can, man.”

You went straight into it…

“Thank You God for this food we eat. Thank You God for the birds that sing. Thank You God for everything.”

That instantly became one of my favorite moments of being your Daddy, so far.

I pray for your soul. I want you to truly know God and how much He loves you.

We read Bible stories together. Our family goes to church, which you always enjoy; they have a really good children’s program there.  The free donuts surely help, too…

I want you to fundamentally understand in both your head and your heart what it means to love Jesus. And I know how important it is that I lead by example.

So it really means a lot to me that with no prior discussion, with no pressure beforehand on my end, with no attempt to get you to pray before dinner, you decided on your own this is something you wanted to do.

You have also volunteered to pray for our meal for the past two nights as well.

There are so many things that go through my head when I think of all I feel responsible for in raising you.

I want to make sure you feel loved. I want to make sure you have fun. I want to make sure you get a great education. I want to make sure you’re an adventurous, yet disciplined boy.

But I especially feel responsible for you wanting to please God.

Seeing you want to pray for our family’s dinner gives me a special, priceless confirmation that I wasn’t expecting so early on.

Love,

Daddy