I wonder if I’ll always subtract a year from my real age.
I wonder if I’ll always critique the worship leader and not just be led in worship.
I wonder if I’ll always wear a hat when I haven’t had time to shave my head because I hate my male pattern baldness.
I wonder if I will ever fall back into patterns of bulimia because I don’t have the discipline to treat my body as a temple.
I wonder if I’ll fight posting another self portrait on instagram that is truly a sign of my insecurities masked in some hashtag about my shirt.
I wonder if I’ll ever believe in God as strongly as I did 4 months ago.
I wonder if God is angry I cussed Him out last night even though I know He’s not.
I wonder if my perfect little girls will struggle with needing to give their bodies away in order to feel acceptance like I did in my teens.
I wonder if next time I’m tempted to lose sight of the gift of my wife if I’ll have the strength to tell her first.
I wonder if one of my kids tells me they are gay if I’ll hug them and love them like I say I will.
I wonder if these gigantic American church building will end up museums like the gigantic European church buildings have from the 1800’s.
I wonder if 20 somethings in the church will ever stop romanticizing their theory of how the church should be run and 40 somethings will ever let the 20 somethings give it a shot.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to swallow the advice I dish.
I wonder if we will realize that blood thirsty mass murderers of our day are no different than the saint who wrote so much of the New Testament.
I wonder these things daily.