Here came the discipline!


I hope that you took the challenge to be bold in your faith and share the hope that you have in Christ.  Do it.  You are legendary.

Today, however, I’m going to be talking to men.  If you’re a woman, I’m sure that you can use today’s topic as well. 

My daughter and I traveled back from California on Sunday.  The first flight that we thought that we could take was full.  So we planned on taking the last flight out of Sacramento on Sunday.  This flight was scheduled to leave at 19:00.  We walked up to the gate just in time for the flight to depart.  And what we heard on the PA was a two hour delay.  Then that delay became a two-hour and forty minute delay.  Needless to say that by the time we arrived home it was after 00:30.  Tired we both went to bed. 

We both woke up early that Monday morning.  I got ready for work, and then I woke Adelyne for school.  We both had busy days with school and work. 

That evening Brooke went for a girls’ night out, and I stayed home with both Adelyne and Maxwell. 

We had a great time together.  I made dinner, we ate, laughed, and cleaned up.  Then I bathed Maxwell and got him ready for bed.  Adelyne took her shower while I finished getting Maxwell into his bed and down for the night. 

After Adelyne’s shower I asked her to get her pajamas.  She refused.  I asked her again and again.  She would change the topic and start trying to play with something else.  Again I asked.  Adelyne would say, “But, but, but.”  By this point my fuse was almost gone.  I told her to get her pajamas or she would be in big trouble.  Once again she flat-out refused and started to whine.  This went on for quite a while before I put my foot down. 

Here came the discipline!

Adelyne knew by this point she was in big trouble for refusing to do what she was asked.  I was tired, and I knew that she was tired.  But tired or not she still needs to do what she’s been asked to do. I had every right to discipline her, not because I’m harsh, but because it had been a long week of trying to get her to follow through with what her mommy and daddy have asked her to do. 

It was time for the discipline.  Just mere seconds before her discipline, however, I asked her a question.

“Adelyne, do you know what GRACE is?”  She looked at me with tears in her eyes and a strange look on her face.  She was probably thinking that I was talking about her cousin Grace that we spent the weekend with in California. 

“Adelyne, do you know what GRACE is?”  I asked again.  She thought for a second and said not really.  I explained to her that Grace is getting something that you don’t deserve.  It’s a gift of love.

I went on to tell her that because of her disobedience she deserved consequences of her actions.  But this evening I’m going to give her something different.  I’m going to give her GRACE.  We talked more about God’s grace that He gives to us. 

I’m thankful that God’s grace is given to me every single second of every single minute of every single day.  The very fact that I’m breathing is a sign of God’s grace in my life. 

But I’ve found that in my life I’ve never been the one to extend that same GRACE that God has extended to me to my own family (wife, children, and even the dog).

God has extended to you grace today.  Let that sink in.

If God can extend GRACE to me and you, then let us be men.

Go now and extended it to your spouse!

Go now and extended it to your children!

Go now and extended it to your neighbors!

Go now and extended it to your supervisors!

Go now and extended it to your employees!

Go now and extended it to your enemies!

Thank you, God, for extending us GRACE.

I once lit a homeless man’s ONLY sweater on fire. It’s. The. Sad. Truth.

Sometimes common sense evades me.  I don’t know where it hides.  Obviously not in my noggin.


Well, I am sure I have you wondering, “How, Brooke?  How could you possibly light a homeless man’s only sweater on fire?”

Let me tell you.  I did it.  It’s possible.  And here’s the story behind it…

Perhaps you did not know that my husband and I started a non-profit in Poland for homeless, poor, and people in general need.

Well, we did.  It all started with 3 cups of tea that my husband served to 3 homeless men at the main train station in Poznan.

Okay, Brooke—that’s all great.  But HOW did you light a homeless man’s sweater on fire?

I’m getting there.

Well, those 3 cups of tea took off!  Pretty awesomely, I might add.

And then Rich and I decided we could do more.

So we started inviting random homeless people to our flat (mieszkanie in Polish).


Here I am visiting under a roundabout in Poland…

Yeah.  Not sure that was our wisest decision—but it was definitely God-protected.

Random homeless started gracing our home.  We started making them dinner.  We had Bible studies together and general merriment.  Honestly, we bonded.  It was all good.


Trouble was…our stove.  Our stove dated to the WWII era.  A gas stove that I had to light with a match.

Now, that doesn’t actually sound too bad does it?

No.  Except you should know that I had to remove two bricks at the bottom of the stove, lift the lid, turn the gas, and chuck the match into what would become the burning inferno.

Brooke + Fire should NEVER be friends.  Never.

Sigh.  Again.

Anyhow—It was a typical homeless dinner night and one of the nice gentlemen was in the kitchen helping me prepare the meal.

I had not yet perfected this brick removing, lid lifting, gas turning, match-chucking skill.

And let’s just say that this VERY UNSUSPECTING homeless man did not realize my lack of gas turning-match throwing talent.  So as he bent down to help me remove the bricks and lift the lid, I did it.

I chucked the match.

Yes.  It just so happened that this was the ONE evening where I turned the gas on a little too strongly.

And I threw the match a little too accurately.

And a big explosion went “Poof!” up in our faces.

Well, our faces were spared but his sweater—his one piece of warmth—caught the wrath of my match.

And, yes.  It caught on fire.

In my kitchen stood a homeless man that I was trying to feed.  Burning.


So, I did what I could…I took a towel and beat that fire out of his sweater.

Spared his skin—got the sweater.  Got the sweater real good.

I’d like to say that I gave him one of Richard’s sweaters, but I honestly don’t remember.

I remember beating the fire out of him.

I remember the hole.

Believe it or not, he still stayed for dinner.  But did I dress the man in a new sweater of warmth?

I cannot recall.

I wonder if he remembers the crazy American lady that invited him up 4 flights of stairs into her flat for dinner, being lit on fire, and beat with a towel?

If he does, maybe he can recall if I ever replaced his sweater.

I think I’ll end with…I hope so!

Sometimes good intentions can DEFINITELY go up in flames, eh?


Friends, my hope for you is that your good intentions end with people being properly clothed!


Question of the DayHave your good intentions ever gone up in flames?