Talk is, well, you know.

Grrrr.

Why is it so much easier for me to preach something than to practice it?

I taught sixteen weeks of conflict resolution chapels this year, but when I ended up in an ugly argument today, it took me four hours to humble myself and apologize, a course of action I would have recommended to you from the start. (In the heat of the moment, knowing the right thing to do only made me more angry!) It wasn't until I asked (in a broken prayer) for a change of heart that I could do what I already knew to do.

This idea of knowing without actually doing comes really naturally to me. I slid perfectly from bossing six younger siblings into telling first and second graders what to do all day. I'm all about telling other people how to solve their problems. I easily think that if I can teach something, I'm doing it myself.

The next time you want to kill me because I told you AGAIN what you should do, just challenge me to a game of basketball. That should take the wind out of my sails.

Don't get me wrong. I love basketball! I have become a huge fan of high school basketball over the past few years. Somehow, watching Nick and Bekah transformed me from an aloof outsider to a student of the game. Over the past five years, I've sat near my dad or brothers as often as I could and asked constant questions. Though I still prefer to watch with an omniscient interpreter, I can now manage on my own. I can throw terminology around with the best, and to the uninitiated, I sound downright knowledgeable. I can tell a jump shot from a hook shot, or a pick from a moving screen, or a carry from a double dribble -- as well as any referee can, anyhow.

However, when my family gets into a game of pick-up, I'm left on the sidelines. Every sibling has outgrown my ability, and no one wants the boring job of defending me. Although I could probably remember more basketball terminology than Bekah, I'm no match for her on the court.

The difference? Only one of us has practiced.

We both have knowledge, but only one of us has prioritized in such a way that the knowledge is useful and effective. Bekah has showed up and sweated at practice; I've told stories.

I'll be teaching another chapel tomorrow morning, this one on being a difference-maker. Tonight, I'm thinking about basketball, and I'm fully aware that my words alone have no difference-making power on their own (if they can't change me on their own, they certainly can't change anyone else!). The power to act on the truth is truly a gift from a gracious God, one I need as much as my students.