Sweaty Gratitude
An acknowledgement chapter that I was too afraid to include in the book
“I thank my God every time I remember you.” —Philippians 1:3
I’ve never had more noticeable sweat stains under my armpits than at our wedding rehearsal dinner.
And no, it wasn’t cold feet. I wasn’t second-guessing our impending nuptials.
My elation about the next day’s wedding was immeasurable. I was deeply in love with her. Still am.
Something else that evening had me sweating profusely. My clammy nervousness was about one simple thing: publicly thanking people by name.
How ridiculous.
I’m an experienced orator. An accomplished speaker. A (self-described) charming, handsome, poised presenter. These were some of my best friends and actual family members. And here I was, absolutely freaking out about giving a polite little toast in which I would have to name these important people in my life and say a few words about how much they meant to me.
Panicking.
Sweaty.
I’ve learned that, for reasons that may only be fully understood after some intense therapy, thanking people publicly by name is a trigger for me. I think I must be subconsciously afraid I’ll forget someone’s name. I’m afraid I might blank completely on who my best friend is or how I know my Grandma. As if I’m secretly terrified of mis-identifying my college roommate or drawing a blank on the moniker of my mother-in-law.
I felt the same way when it came time to write an “Acknowledgments” chapter for my book, Cathedrals of Connection.
So I just didn’t do it.
I freaked out and skipped it entirely.
But as the book is now released into the wild, I thought I might take a risk and share some gratitude in writing — horrified that I’ll forget someone. (Please forgive me as I sweatily give this a shot).
To my aforementioned bride, my partner in joy, the person who makes the space of our life safe and whole so that it can be recognized as sacred: Meggan. I love you, and your support is everything.
And to my kids, who are the real inspiration for this book — I dedicated it to you both for a reason. Every moment we share is the most divine gift.
[The perspiration increases.]
Before I continue, if you’ve read the book, you might remember how in Chapter 1, I open up a miniature green Bible and am immediately bored into decades of spiritual stupor by the long list of hard-to-pronounce names — “acknowledgments” — found at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel. I don’t want to bore you in the same way. So I’m going to try to avoid the standard “editors begat the publicist who begat the launch team” format.
But the truth is, those long lists of names that show up throughout the Bible, along with the opening hat tips and greetings that Paul offers before his epistles (like the one from Philippians that I planted at the top of this piece), are all far more than they appear. They aren’t actually boring lists or polite greetings. Look closer, between the names, and you will find God’s fingerprints. Those lists are the residue, the evidence, the outcome of sacred human connection over generations. Those lists of names and those acknowledgment sections — “the begats” and genealogies — are the actual heart of the Bible. They tell the story. They reveal the deeper truth. They whisper a secret thesis that the whole Bible is pointing toward: it is all about, and has always been about, relationships.
And so this little piece I’m writing here is offered in the same spirit. These people shaped my life, and in so doing, shaped this book.
There is absolutely no chance I can name everyone who built this. So, I’ll limit myself to about 25 (in no particular order). Astute, discerning readers might be able to find some Easter eggs and some connections to the stories shared in the book (and maybe even visual proof of some of the tales I shared).
Hey Matt Geik: “A little bouncer, slowly, toward Bryant. He will glove it… throw to Rizzo. It’s in time! And the Chicago Cubs win the World Series!”
To Nate and Julie: May we heroically cross more jungle rivers someday soon.
Hey Justin: The Starbucks off Wadsworth was the first place I noticed that I was sitting in a cathedral of connection — and had been sitting in them my whole life.
To Gagik: Admittedly, you captured my boy band hair accurately.
Hey Bob and Sue: I’ll be outside on the patio. Sun warming my face. Overwhelmed by the love I’ve felt from you and your beautiful family.
To the lady at the New Mexico gas station: I see you, and I appreciate you.
Hey Fred: I hope you know you’re the hero of that story. You are a perfect example of why I love our diverse little local church.
To Aaron: The final word is yours.
Hey Matt Farrell: Remember planning the next morning’s workshop late one night in the bottom level of the Indy JW Marriott? I’m pretty sure you were the first to say, “The only difference between sacred and scared is one letter.” Thanks for that.
To Amanda, Ashlyn, Jane, and the Turner team: You’ve fulfilled a prayer of mine that I hope will facilitate the prayers of many.
Hey Josh: From the more than two decades of late-night kitchen conversations, to that McDonald’s (which I may have placed at the incorrect exit in the book), to the steep cliffs of a canyon… the fruit of your influence and our friendship is bursting from this book.
To Mom and Dad: You did great. Thanks for your patience and presence. You embodied God’s unconditional love so I could understand it.
Hey Steve: Your Easter sermon from about 10 years ago or so finally gave me nourishing spiritual soil in which I could be planted. My soul continues to grow. Thank you.
To Mike: Our house is not burnt to the ground because of your watchful, angelic presence as a loving neighbor.
Hey Branden, RJ, Woody, and all who have worn the phlame: We are humbly doing work that transcends us.
To those who have called me coach: I’m proud of you.
Hey Matt, Adam, and Mike: Those crudely constructed cathedrals of our youth, built in basements and backyards, look holier every year.
Hey strangers at the Pittsburg, Kansas Buffalo Wild Wings on November 2, 2016: Thanks fellas.
Hey Uncle Mike: 🐒✊🤕
To Melissa: The tuna noodle casserole was perfect.
To my brothers: Causa Latet…
To Brandon: Muchas gracias, hermano. You were a great interpreter and you’ve been an unbelievable brother.
To Lydia, Natalia, and Elsie: Sure. I’ll come outside for a while. Thanks for the invite.
Hey Jessica: You’re far away now. But memories of traveling together, teaching together, writing together, and becoming better together shaped me and my theology more than I can ever describe.
To Tom: Thanks for sending me to the other side of the world with Richard — where I, in my sport coat, was greeted and befriended by Ricardito, Joel, Bacari, and so many others.
To all the early readers, editors, reviewers, blurbers, launch team folks, and the community that supports this book and this ministry: I feel so loved.
My forehead glistens nervously as I’m certain I’ve left a bunch of people out. If I have not listed your name here, know this: you are engraved into these pages in ways I cannot footnote. I am only because of the people who have surrounded me. There isn’t enough ink in any pen to name the full architecture of grace that built me.
And you, dear reader, are now among the living cloud of witnesses surrounding me, holding me, and writing the story of my life. You are shaping me. You are blessing me. You are sitting with me here in this cathedral we’re still building together.
Can I get you a warm drink?
P.S. A special word of gratitude to the launch team — the brave early readers and ongoing supporters who championed this book before it ever entered the world. You helped architect and engineer this cathedral into reality.
Alicja, Becca, Brad, Brandon, Dani, David, Clark, Kelly, Esther Joy, Eugene, Grace, Gregory, Ian, Ian, James, Jenai, Jenn, Jeya, Josh, Josh, Justin, Justin, Kara, Kayla, Liz, Lizz, Megan, Meggan, Melissa, Melissa, Melissa, Mike, Patricia, Peggy, Bethany, Dani, RJ, Ruth Ann, Steve, Stu, Tommy, and Wes —
I thank my God every time I remember all of you.