Juneteenth is a holiday that is full of spiritual significance and meaningful imagery.
If you did not come from a background that celebrated this holiday, there is no better day than today (Juneteenth is today!) to start to learn. My hope is that one day soon Juneteenth will be recognized as a national holiday and celebrated across the country with family and friends.
Here’s a video that we showed the kids today. We got together in the living room and watched the video and then simply talked about what we saw. Passing on the spirit of neighborliness to or kiddos is not complex. It just takes some intentionality to create moments to learn as a family.
Neighborliness: Finding the Beauty of God Across Dividing Lines is available NOW on all platforms (including Kindle, and Audiobook). Click here to view it on Amazon: https://rb.gy/okrsvq
The message of neighborliness explores the greatest commandment: loving God and neighbors. Finding the beauty of God across dividing lines means that we need to take time to explore our hearts and figure out why racial and economic tension has been dividing us for so long. I think this book will help. I pray this book will help.
We wrote a small group discussion guide for each chapter and included it at the end of the book. The end of this book is the beginning of a conversation. The message of neighborliness is intended to be an inward journey exploring our love for God that naturally moves us to loving our neighbors.
I can’t wait for you to read this. Furthermore, I can’t wait to see what happens when people begin to explore these topics in the context of community.
My friend, Peter Moskowitz, said in his book How to Kill A City: Gentrification, Inequality, and the Fight for the City, “Systems can change because systems are made of people.” I believe that cities can change, too, because cities are made of people.
In order to change your city, though, you have to start in your own heart. I pray that this book will help you begin at home and then take it to your neighborhood.
The thing that I’ve found that speaks the most in our relationships with people is intentionality. The way I see this playing out the most in my life is through parenting. Dara and I love our babies (they will always be our babies) so very much. They bring so much joy to our lives. Max, Mary, Jack, and Ben are my kids, my best friends, and my greatest teachers.
Parenting has been one of the biggest blessings in my life, but parenting can be straight up hard. Dara and I are imperfect at the art of parenting, but we care deeply. We are intentional with our kids in our conversations, our discipline, our teaching moments, and our schedules. Pursuing intentionality is far greater than striving for perfection because it allows for curiosity, mistakes without shame, and deeper connections with the people you do life with.
Whether you are married, single, with kids, or without, I want to share with you how Dara and I are exploring sensitive and complex topics with our children. My prayer is that you will pick up some practices along the way of how we can pass on important lessons from one generation to the next. I want the same thing for you that I want for my kids. I want you to fix your attention on what Jesus said was most important. Loving God and neighbors.
Everything else, after all, is less important.
My friend, Doug Witherup, had me on his podcast to talk about how we Dara and I talk to our kids about racism. Here’s the link to the podcast:
I don’t know why God heals some and not others. But I know that he can and does at times. I believe in miracles because I have experienced them in my own life. This is one of those stories.
I also believe in God’s presence in the midst of pain and suffering because I have experienced his love in those times, as well. If you are facing the turmoil, uncertainty, and grief of sickness, please know that God is with you. I pray that this testimony of his power will point past Dara, Max, and our family and straight to Jesus.
You are not alone.
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“It’s a boy!”
I had been dreaming of this moment since I was a boy growing up on Claymore Court West in Canton, Michigan. I thought it would be so cool to have a son. I would teach him how to drive, shave, and hit a curveball. He would be one of my best friends.
“We already have a name for him,” I told the ultrasound technician. “His name is Max David Docusen.”
I never imagined that this moment would be accompanied by my worst nightmare. We were at the hospital getting an ultrasound because Dara was fighting a major kidney infection.
“David,” Dr. Collins said, “We are going to need to increase the amount of medicine we are giving to Dara. I feel compelled to tell you that this could impact the pregnancy, but we need to make sure Dara is ok at this point.”
“Impact the pregnancy. What does that mean?” I replied.
Dr. Collins took a deep breath and said, “The levels of medicine we need to give Dara could result in the termination of the pregnancy.”
I stood next to the bed in stunned silence as Dara received the extra medicine and fell asleep peacefully. I sat outside the room on a metal folding chair and made a few calls to update our family and friends.
We had to pray.
I finished a call with her mother and went back inside to quietly check on her. As I entered the room, I heard a faint whisper, “Babe, help me.”
The infection in her kidney entered her bloodstream and quickly made its’ way to her lungs. We would soon find out that her lungs were crashing and her life was in danger because of a condition called Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS). She was four months pregnant with Max.
Dara spent the next two days in the intensive care unit.
Dr. Collins called me out of the room around 10:30pm on the second night in the ICU. He told me to be prepared to say goodbye to Dara and Max. He was not sure they would make it through the night. I couldn’t think or breathe or process anything for several moments.
I asked everyone to leave the room.
I sat next to Dara as she was laboring to breathe. I placed my right hand on her belly and Max gave a strong kick directly into the middle of my palm. I raised the other hand to heaven and I began to worship God.
Lord, I give you my heart, I give you my soul, I live for you alone Every breath that I take, every moment I’m awake Lord, have your way in me.
I called out the sickness by name. “ARDS, be gone in the name of Jesus.”
As I was worshiping and praying, Dara’s breathing regulated and she fell asleep peacefully. We could feel the presence of God in the room with us. Dara and I slept peacefully on the night her and Max were not expected to live.
The next morning, Dr. Collins came in with a very concerned look on his face.
Dara greeted him with a smile.
“Dara,” he asked curiously, “How do you feel?”
“I feel great, Dr. Collins,” she replied.
“This doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know how to explain this.” He was looking at Dara and then back at his notes over and over again.
“Doc,” I said with every ounce of conviction and belief in my spirit. “God healed my wife.” He looked at me over the rim of his glasses that rested on the end of his nose.
“David, I don’t believe in miracles, but I don’t have an explanation for you. Dara is completely better. We are transferring her back to a normal room for observation. If all goes well, you can go home in twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours later, we were home.
Five months later, after twenty-one hours of labor, Max David Docusen was born on December 7, 2003.
He was six pounds, seven ounces and twenty-one inches long.
He is one of my best friends.
Dara and Max beat impossible odds. When I was terrified and did not know what to do in the natural, I went back to what I did know to do in the spirit.
Prayer and worship.
The night my wife and son were fighting for their lives, I prayed against a specific illness called ARDS. I have joined with family and friends and prayed against cancer, anxiety, depression, etc.
What are you praying for that seems impossible?
Call it out by name.
God has not always displayed his power miraculously like he did that night in the ICU for Dara and Max, but I always know he is listening. I know he is with us.
I just had my first conversation with a friend that has a friend that died from Covid-19.
One degree of separation.
Darrell is a true friend and brother. He stands 6’7″ tall and towers over every room I’ve ever been in with him. He can hit a golf ball a country mile. He beats me every time we play. That pains me to admit on the internet. But it’s true. More than anything, though, I see Jesus in Darrell.
His eyes radiate the love of Jesus.
Darrell and I talked for thirty minutes today. He pastors a great church in West Charlotte and he is exposed to some of the most pressing needs in our city. He told me the story of a family of eleven that could not re-apply for food stamps this week because of some hiccup in the government during this crisis.
They were literally without food. Think about that. We worked together to find a solution for that family, and others in his neighborhood, that simply need food right now.
We prayed together for a while. Darrell prayed as if he knew Jesus as a friend. He was comfortable and confident approaching Jesus in prayer because he knows Jesus as his friend.
That got me thinking about you.
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We don’t have to agree on matters of faith to be friends.
I have lived by this mantra for the past twelve years. I have so many friends that believe differently than I do. My world is better and more full because of my friends.
I believe that everyone is on a journey of faith. It may look different for every person, but I believe that the pursuit of truth and finding relationship with our Creator is hard wired into every one of us. This belief drives me. It encourages me. It motivates me to share a genuine faith that changed my life.
While I deeply believe that we don’t have to agree on matters of faith to be friends, here’s a confession for every person I’ve ever met that is exploring matters of faith: I want you to know Jesus.
When I heard Darrell pray today, I heard a man that was comfortable going to God in prayer. It was just like a real conversation between friends. And that made me think of you.
Who are you going to when you’re ravaged with anxiety these days?
Who is bringing peace to you in the midst of uncertainty?
Who loves you, no matter your past and no matter your doubts?
Darrell is going to Jesus because Jesus has been real to him. I so desperately want Jesus to be real to you, as well.
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Why Jesus?
The most simple answer I can give is that he changed my life, personally. I have walked through seasons of life that were heart wrenching. I have doubted my faith. I have doubted that there was a God that actually listened to me when I prayed. I have wrestled with the creation story and how all of this came together.
In all of those endeavors of searching for truth, nothing satisfied me. Nothing brought peace to my heart. The more I learned, the more I became confused and unsettled. But Jesus brought me peace. An inward reality of safety and security. In short; satisfaction.
Do I still have questions? Yes. Do I understand everything? No. But my soul is satisfied in Jesus.
I want you to know Jesus because I want your soul to finally be satisfied. I want you to know Jesus because I have experienced the reality of relationship with him and I want that for you. I want you to know Jesus because he has given me peace in spite of the volatile circumstances of life more times than I can count.
I want you to know Jesus because I actually believe that he died for my sins and yours. I have been forgiven for my shortcomings. In return for the ashes of my life, I have been given a relationship with my Creator through Jesus.
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To be completely honest, I want you to know Jesus because I love you.
My greatest expression of love to you would be to continue to point you to the person that changed my life, forgave my sins and set me on a path that is full of purpose and passion.
Jesus gave us a pretty simple word picture of what it means to give your heart to Jesus.
**Revelation 3:20 – “Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door,
I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.”
There is nothing more meaningful, beautiful or satisfying than my relationship with Jesus. There’s a ton of questions that will follow and there’s a bunch of us that can help you navigate those questions. But please don’t overcomplicate the first step: you have to open the door of your heart.
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We don’t have to agree on matters of faith to be friends.
I believe that deeply. It just so happens, though, that I believe in the work of Jesus in my life so much that I want to share this joy and reality with you. Satisfaction is real. My soul has felt and enjoyed that reality. This satisfaction of peace and oneness with our Creator is available to you.
Maybe today is your day? All you have to do is reach for the door handle of your heart. When you confess with your mouth and believe in your heart that he is Lord, you are forgiven and set free. You are saved. (Romans 10:9)
Why do I want you to give your heart to Jesus? The answer is painfully simple: I actually believe this stuff. I believe that Jesus loves you and cares for you and deeply longs for relationship with you. I believe that he brings satisfaction to my life and yours.
He’s knocking today. The choice is yours. I’m praying for you to have the courage,
strength and faith to open the door.
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Maybe you come from a family that represented Jesus as harsh. I get that. We have experienced that in the Docusen family, as well. I want you to know that anything that harmed you or pushed you away was not Jesus. People are imperfect, and they can associate some pretty terrible actions and behaviors to their faith. A person’s misrepresentation of Jesus does not change the beauty of Jesus.
Don’t let their misrepresentation keep you from a genuine relationship with Jesus.
The Jesus I know loved me so much that he willingly died for me.
The Jesus I know accepts me, even now, in the midst of doubt and hypocrisy.
The Jesus I know shines in the midst of all darkness.
I love the Jesus I know. He knows me and he still loves me.
To be completely honest, I want you to know (and love) the Jesus I know, too.
“Ok David,” the doctor said as he placed two q-tips in a hazardous materials bag, “We will get back to you in 3-5 days. Best of luck and please stay healthy.”
I looked into his eyes that were covered by an oversized face mask. I wondered what he was thinking. He was face-to-face with a stranger that may have an unknown disease directly at his fingertips. He was kind, confident, and communicative. He had tried to prepare me as best as possible for the fact that he was going to put a q-tip farther up my nose than I ever thought was humanly possible. He asked me multiple times how I was doing.
“Are you nervous?” he asked. “Your blood pressure is on the higher side of normal.”
“I guess,” I replied. “I don’t really know. Probably.”
“I have really bad seasonal allergies,” I continued. “I’ve got a cough and I’ve been really fatigued, but I also just had a whirlwind trip to London. It might just be jet lag and my body trying to figure out where I am right now.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied.
He genuinely meant what he was saying. I could feel the warmth of his care toward me, a complete stranger. I am grateful for him and every single medical worker that I came into contact with last week. I didn’t know what to think. They probably didn’t know what to think, either. But each of them chose to help me feel comfortable in the midst of the uncertainty.
Thank you to every medical worker, period.
Thank you. All of you.
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It’s been a long seven days since my test. I didn’t spend the time totally freaking out, but I can tell you that anxiety and fear were at the top of my prayer list. Especially last night. I had done my social distancing part to make sure that I stayed away from everyone except the people that I love the most on this planet.
Dara. Our four kids.
I went to bed last night thinking about the near-impossibility of distancing from Dara and our kids in our 1,800 square foot home. I prayed and gave my anxiety and fear to God, knowing that it is never from him. That certainly doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it, of course.
After praying myself to sleep, I slept like a baby. I am so grateful for God’s peace that surpasses understanding (Philippians 4). I needed it, and I felt that peace last night.
I got the results a few hours ago. Without even saying a word to Dara, I walked into the kitchen and gave her an extra-special kiss. She immediately knew. The test was negative.
“Mom,” Max said as he came around the corner, “Are you kissing dad?!” That normally results in some sort of a gag noise accompanied by an eye-roll. This time, however, he walked over with a smile on his face and gave me a bear hug. The rest of the kids ran into the kitchen and hugged me, as well. I was so grateful to be able to kiss my wife and then get hugs from my teen and pre-teen babies.
Thank God.
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I am so grateful for the doctors and nurses that I saw that day at Novant Hospital in Matthews. They were strong and courageous, even if I could sense a palpable sense of tension in the room because of all the unknowns. Three of us were in the room. All of us coughing. There were at least a dozen empty seats between us. Everyone knew the rules.
I waited about an hour and a half for my test. When I asked if I could use the restroom, the receptionist looked back at me with genuine uncertainty.
“Can he use the restroom?” she asked one of the nurses. “He’s a potential Covid patient,” she whispered. “You’re going to have to get permission from the charge nurse on that one,” the nurse replied.
It took ten minutes to get an approval. I told them that it was not a big deal and that I would just wait. Another woman came around the corner and said, “Come on, sweetie. Use the bathroom.” She had a genuine smile on her face. She was so kind and my bladder was so thankful.
The same woman was waiting outside the single-stall bathroom when I was done. She had an entire bathroom-cleaning cart next to her. She disinfected the entire bathroom. The same woman that was so kind to me, giving me permission to use the bathroom was the same woman that knew she would have to clean it afterward.
I was genuinely moved by that surreal and brief social interaction.
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My doctor recommended that I get tested because of a uniquely busy season of domestic and international travel. Between speaking, consulting, teaching, and traveling to Austin to work with my agent and editors on the layout of my first book, I had been on 12 flights in the past six weeks, including a very quick there-and-back to London.
This was by far the busiest season of travel I have ever had in ministry. I don’t love being away from home, but I genuinely love sharing the message that God has placed on my heart.
And then London. Everything changed thirty minutes after the flight lifted off for London.
I logged on to the airplane wifi and was deluged with information that a travel ban had been instituted and that no one from Europe would be able to come back to America. My wife and kids instantly raced through my mind. I found out soon after that we would not be included in that travel ban.
Sigh. Relief.
“Dad!!!” the text from Jack read. “The NBA season was just suspended!!!” It seemed like the whole country began to wake up to how real this was when the NBA announcement came down. And then the NCAA tournament.
“What is going on right now?” I kept thinking.
My head was spinning.
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Before takeoff, I knew there were serious issues around the world, but America was yet to be severely impacted (or so I thought). I researched the outbreak in London, as well. It was rather mild (or so I thought). Little did I know that the virus was already very much in our country and very much in the place I was about to land.
I arrived at 9:00am and was on a plane home at 10am the next day. 25 hours in London. All I could think about was not getting stuck an ocean away from my family.
In hindsight, I wouldn’t have taken the trip. The problem with hindsight, though, is you don’t have it in the moment.
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I am grateful to get today’s results after all of my travel from the past six weeks. My heart hurts to see our world in such a state of pain, turmoil, and heartache.
We need each other. If ever we have realized how much we need each other, it’s right now.
I will do all that I can to advocate for folks that need help during this season and be a good neighbor to those around me. The challenge of loving others well from a distance is real, but I know it can be done.
My heart is hurting for small business owners and my neighbors that have been working hard to simply make ends meet, only to have another challenge rise up that seems impossible to navigate.
I do know this, though… God knows. The prevailing metaphor for the Church in the scriptures is a body. A bunch of interconnected parts that come together as one body.
We have enough because we have each other.
We’re going to have to learn how to share to make it through this. Those that have been blessed with financial resources will be challenged to share like never before. Those that need financial resources will be challenged to humbly reach out and let others know their needs.
If we do this right, we can learn to see each other again. We can learn to love each other well.
We won’t know what to do, but God will. I absolutely know that God knows. Especially when I don’t.
God is with us. He is not confused, no matter how confusing this situation may be right now. I’m trying to do my part to stay up on the latest practical realities, but also to break away and just spend quiet time with Jesus.
I desperately need my life centered on Jesus right now.
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Thank you to all of our dear friends and family that are first responders, nurses, military, and everyone else that cannot choose to distance themselves from this horrific disease. I am praying for God to show himself to be real and true to all of us during the uncertainty of these days. And I am genuinely, daily praying for your protection as you courageously wake up and do your part every day.
I will do my part and stay home. I’m a people person, but I’m staying home. I don’t love Zoom/Google Hangout/FaceTime as much as I love being with my family and friends. But I love my family and friends enough to just simply do my part. Even if that is as simple as staying home.
Immanuel, God with us. I have never believed that more than today. To everyone dealing with this horrible disease, God is with you. To everyone grieving the loss of a loved one, God is with you. I do not know why horrible things happen, but I am certain that God is with you. Immanuel, God is with us.
