I admit it. I was rooting for Tiger Woods. I wanted him to win. I’ve secretly longed to see him hoist another championship trophy for the last 924 days. It’s true.

Not the icon.

Not the tabloid image.

Not the red shirt.

Not the machine.

Not the argumentative, pretentious, rehearsed image.

The man. The broken, fallen man. The human being.

The guy who stood sadly alone for his post-win interview. No smiling wife or excited toddlers to run clumsily across the manicured green into his open arms. The guy who blew it. Who gave it all away. Who thought he was bigger than life. Who tested gravity and found that even he was subject to it’s pull.

That guy.

It’s weird, and I’m undoubtedly a hypocrite (I kind of enjoy watching a guy pay for his transgressions if he wears a Patriots logo or plays Major League Baseball) . Tiger hurt a lot of people, and their pain deserves some restitution. A piece of me loves see a guy get what’s coming to him. I’m human, too.

But maybe that’s the point. I’m human, too.

The older I get, the less I want to throw stones (don’t misunderstand, I’ve still got a great arm). The more I want to celebrate unabashed grace (even if the guy getting it may not even know he needs it). The Bible soberly reminds us “we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us” (Romans 3:23 MSG), and that even my most righteous acts are nothing more than “filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6 NLT).

Tiger Woods deserves to be exiled. Abandoned. Shamed. Anonymous. Finished. Hoisting another PGA championship trophy is far more than he deserves.

And maybe that’s why I enjoyed it so much. Isn’t “more than we deserve” what we’re all desperately hoping for?

Last night, I spent a few hours with my brother, our dad, and family friend (Kellog MBA and global powerhouse) Jim Ordo. We engaged in a little brainstorming session.

Strategery.

My (10 years younger yet 10 inches taller) brother has a dream. A music school. An environment where kids can not only learn an instrument but release their creativity. Become artists, not just technicians. It’s a cool concept, and we had a blast hashing it out with him.

The ideas flowed faster than the coffee. By the time Darren would jot one down, three more were colliding in the airspace above our heads. It was energizing. Freeing. Easy. Because at this point, all I’m really responsible for is the dreaming.

Dreaming comes standard with energy, freedom, and ease. They’re built in. Creating is the expensive upgrade. I left our dialog with dreamer’s hangover. Darren walked out with four reams of action steps and a mountain of hard work.

All of us can dream. Few of us will create.

Imagination is intoxicating. Creating is flat out (terrifying) hard work.

I have 6 or 7 major initiatives on the table for City Community Church and our family in 2012. They’re good ideas. Big dreams. Massive potential. But there’s a giant cavern between what resides in my head (and my heart) and the tangible creation process. A gap full of:

FEAR: Of failure. Of being misunderstood. Of finding out the dream was idealistic. Unrealistic. Maybe not that good. Of shame and embarrassment. (I even fear the responsibility that comes from being successful).

And….

LAZINESS: Let’s face it, realizing a dream isn’t usually impossible. It’s just really, really hard. Dreaming is fun (and cheap). Maybe I could just hang there? (Makes for some great blog posts).

Courage and lots and lots of hard work – that’s our bridge. So let’s get to it. The creating, not just the dreaming.

The painting only manifests if you actually pick up the brush.

What 3 action steps do you need to take to actually create what you’ve only been dreaming about?

We all need a good butt kicking from time to time.

We’re self-absorbed.

Lazy.

Dysfunctional.

Willfully ignorant.

Self-righteous.

Some days we just need to get over ourselves, there’s no doubt about it. A good Kanye West enema.

But there’s a paradoxical epidemic that seems to run tandem to our self-indulgence. In fact, I think their roots are intertwined. Far too many of us consistently size ourselves against those around us, those we’re connected to, those we admire, those the culture has elevated, (in general anyone with a pulse), and find we’re lacking.

Less than.

Constantly engaging an internal war of comparison. Constantly arguing with voices in our heads. Constantly battling wounds from the past. Constantly losing. Constantly manufacturing and believing our lies.

There’s no switch you can flip. No magic glasses that instantly right-size your perspective. No 3am infomercial with a secret $19.95 solution.

It takes courage. Good old-fashioned courage.

Courage to believe the truth. Courage to boldly live into it. Embracing who God created you to be will be the scariest adventure you ever undertake. It’s way safer to be who everyone else has decided that you are. And way more unfortunate.

Here’s a little jump start for your journey. A little insight into how the One who made you feels about you. Give way to His comparison. It’s the only one that matters:

“Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I’d even lived one day.
Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful!
God, I’ll never comprehend them!
I couldn’t even begin to count them—
any more than I could count the sand of the sea.”

Psalm 139:13-18 MSG

You can’t help others when you’re obsessed with yourself. You also can’t help others when you don’t feel you have anything of value to give. Don’t believe the lies.

You’re way more than “less than.”

My wife and I dated long-distance for the first three years of our relationship.

Year 1: I was in Indianapolis and she was in Florida.

Year 2: I was in Nashville and she was in Florida.

Year 3: I was in Nashville and she was in Indianapolis.

Year 4: I was in a jewelry store.

Nurturing a relationship over a thousand mile span sucks, especially when the only phone is attached to the wall and cost $0.33 per minute (my kids don’t believe such contraptions ever existed).

But there’s one strange paradox that distance brings to a relationship: Focus.

Mandy just returned from 10 Days in Cambodia (sounds like a Brad Pitt movie, doesn’t it?). While she was engaging in the lives of some of the world’s most beautiful yet poverty stricken people, I was 8,700 miles away successfully keeping three kids (and unfortunately, the dog) on this side of the dirt.

Something very special took place (as it always seems to) when we’re forced to spend some time apart.

We grew closer.

Why is that? It doesn’t make sense. Except that it sorta does.

Thanks to FaceTime and global wifi networks, we were able to talk multiple times each day. And every interaction we had was precious. Intentional. Focused. She had my undivided attention and I had hers. She arrived home closer to me than had she never been away. That’s worth examining.

I’m not one to lament the cultural decline brought on by Facebook, iPhones, or cable television. Abuse of any of these mediums isn’t the core of the problem, it’s just a symptom.

But it does make me wonder, in the midst of a manic culture where we don’t have to find distractions, distractions find us, how do we re-engage the focus that seems to elevate the quality of human connection our souls long for?

Relationships grow when we give them our attention. (Yeah, I know…it’s sorta “duh”).

Do you have an important relationship that needs some renewed focus?

Actions speak louder than words. This is true. Nobody likes a lazy motormouth or a idle theorist. But words aren’t unimportant. In fact I’d even say they’re vital.

(Probably not a surprise from a regular blogger).

My wife has been in Cambodia for 9 days now (have I mentioned this?). Her absence brings stunning clarity to my feelings for her, and these feelings have given verbal expression to things I wish I said far more often. (Thank you FaceTime, email, SMS, and Viber).

The mundane makes us lazy. Entitled. We don’t speak because we presume there will always be time to say it later. When we’re less tired, when we’ve had a better day, or when the ballgame’s not in the 4th quarter. The assumption of endless moments gives no urgency to this one.

So we stay silent. And that’s a shame.

I want to say it more. What I feel. When I feel it. Even when I don’t (sometimes feelings follow the action).

Who do you need to call, text, FaceTime, Viber, IM, Facebook, write (yeah on paper), HeyTell, Tweet, email, sky write, or carrier pigeon right now?

Tell them how you feel. What they mean. Why you love them.

Say it clunky. Say it uncomfortably. Say it imperfectly. Just say it!

Seriously, right now. Go! You won’t regret it.