Goals Remembered.

Bike shorts. 

Why did coaches in the 80s and 90s always wear bike-brand shorts. The kind with two snaps up top? 

They were always riding and pinching just enough to remove all the mystery that clothing affords. And especially in Missouri, our coaches’ pale white legs - on full display - would blind others as they tooted their whistle. Barking instructions and insults.

It made me want to run faster . . . 

Away from them. 

I’m thankful that in the time I was growing up and playing sports - that mesh, basketball-style shorts were gaining popularity.

Recently, I had a chance to meet with a different type of coach. A leadership coach. 

It was a thrilling conversation that bordered on therapy at times. Communicating about the last 10 years, my current state, and even the impact of Jude’s diagnosis. 

As part of the process, I agreed to complete a survey at the end of the session.

No big deal right? 

I got the link and began to thoroughly answer the questions about my personality, my approach to stressful situations, how I prefer to handle conflict, etc. 

I clicked “next” on the screen. And there it was. 

“What are the three most important things you want to accomplish in the next 6 months?” What do I want to achieve? How dare they ask me that? 

I froze. 

I had no clue. I had a loosely formed fitness goal, but outside of that? Nothing. Zero. 

And then it hit me. 

My personal goals took a back seat a long time ago. They were lost within Jude’s diagnosis, trying to raise Miller, helping Megan, and enduring the endless hum of everyday life. It’s always easier to simply exist rather than intentionally focus. 

And there’s a kind of day-to-day grind that is specific to special needs dads. Spiritually, we’re tasked with leadership, guidance, provision and protection. Practically, we’re tasked with countless practical tasks like driving kids to school or practice, helping during meltdowns, changing diapers, attending doctor’s appointments as moral support or physical back-up. It’s an unseen weight. 

So we, as dads, we lose ourselves in the fog. 

So here’s what I’m trying to sort out in my own mind. In my own life. 

Denying ourselves is not a bad thing. Serving our family is certainly not a bad thing. But what about personal goals? Is living without intentionality more spiritual or holy? 

I have to say no. Denying personal goals may seem pious. Righteous. You get the satisfaction of looking back and saying “look at all I’ve done for you” during heated arguments (even thought it’s manipulative and crazy). 

But after 13 years of giving up my goals - I can attest that it feels like martyrdom when death was never required. 

So here’s my goal test. To help keep me in check. To help me balance.  

• Is the goal itself morally consistent with Scripture? 

• Why do I want it?

• Can I pursue it while faithfully fulfilling my responsibilities to God, family and others?

• Can I thank God if I achieve it without making the achievement my identity?

• Can I still trust God if He redirects me and I don't achieve it?

That’s it. It’s a fair test. A test that helps me navigate the tension between denying myself and taking my personal goals more seriously.

Last week this felt too selfish to publish. I was still struggling to process or articulate what I believed about personal goals. I shut the laptop and went for a drive. 

I passed someone getting some exercise. It was my Pastor. 

Running. 

Alone. 

It was the perfect example of a Godly man pursuing a personal goal.

So here I am. Setting goals. Going slow. Remembering what it feels like. Working through my head trash. Getting clarity. Seeking God in the middle of it all. 

And I’m thankful. 

(Especially thankful Pastor Mike wan’t wearing those old school coaches shorts)

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” — Colossians 3:23 (NIV)