Over the last week, since the United States took military action in Iran, I have seen many people disagreeing with it. People are afraid. They worry that the fighting will last a long time or that other countries will get involved. They fear that friends, family, or innocent people will be hurt or killed. Some also feel the money spent on war would be better used to buy food for the hungry or build homes for the homeless.
As a follower of Jesus, I truly believe we should try to find peaceful ways to solve our problems. This is especially on my mind right now. It is the season of Lent, and I am preaching a sermon series based on the book Love Your Enemies by Arthur C. Brooks.
I don’t just see those arguments for peace; I really feel them. I wrestle with them myself. I do not like violence or the suffering that comes with war. It makes me sad to think about the scars—both on the body and the mind—that men and women will carry for the rest of their lives.
However, there is another voice that stays with me. It is a voice I first heard 40 years ago when I was a young man. (I know that the number 40 is very important in the Bible, and that isn’t lost on me.)
A Story from the Grocery Store
That voice belongs to a man named Darius. He was from Iran but had moved to the United States to study at a university. We worked together at a local grocery store while his wife finished her degree. As we moved heavy pallets and put food on the shelves, we talked about our lives and our children.
He told me stories about life in Iran. He described how extremists would come into his village. They even taught children how to make homemade bombs out of glass bottles and gasoline. He told me how these men would bully the village and force young men to join them. Darius was so thankful he escaped to America, where he had freedom and opportunity.
Darius was always worried. Every few months, he felt he had to go back to Iran to check on his elderly parents. They needed the money he sent to survive and to pay off the “thugs” who bothered them. He was terrified that if he went back, the Iranian government wouldn’t let him leave again. He feared he would never see his wife or his life in America again. But if he didn’t go, he felt like he was abandoning his parents and siblings.
One day, he told me something I will never forget: “When the United States didn’t come to help after the hostages were taken in 1979, we as a people felt abandoned.”
The Reality of the Situation
Since that revolution in 1979, we have seen many terrible things. People have been killed for being Christians. Even though they are allowed to worship, “Sharia Law” makes it very dangerous for them. This danger isn’t just for Christians. People in the LGBTQIA+ community have been killed just for who they love. Women are often treated like they are less important; they are kept from going to school and don’t have a full voice in their communities.
The leaders of Iran have also called for the destruction of the Jewish people and the nation of Israel. They are working to build powerful weapons to do exactly that. And recently, we have seen people killed in the streets just for demanding the basic human rights that God gives to everyone.
Seeking the Truth
I do not love war. I don’t think it should be our first choice, or even our fifth choice. But sometimes, it might be necessary. I think about what King Solomon wrote in the book of
Ecclesiastes:
“For everything there is a season… A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time for war and a time for peace.”
I still hear Darius’s voice saying, “We were abandoned.” When I see people suffering and being treated unfairly, I wonder if this is one of those times Solomon wrote about. One day, history will show us the truth about this season and whether our actions were right.
If we are a people who pray let us pray but if we are a people who do not, let us lift up our hopes and our for this time and those most affected.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Pepper vs. Heifer
I was doing my daily Bible reading recently, just like I do every morning. Right now, I am reading through the book of Numbers. To be honest, I usually struggle a bit when I get to this part of the Bible. There are a lot of rules and lists, and it can be hard to stay focused. But today, something happened that made me laugh and taught me a great lesson!
I have a habit of listening to the Bible on an app rather than just reading the words on a page. I like doing this because it’s how people in Jesus’ time would have learned about God—by hearing the stories out loud.
I was listening to Numbers 19:1. In that verse, the Lord tells Moses and Aaron to have the people of Israel bring them a “red heifer.” A heifer is just a young female cow. But as I was walking along, that is not what I heard.
My brain heard: “Bring Aaron a red pepper.”
I was so confused! The verses kept going, giving very specific instructions on what to do with this “pepper.” The Bible said the “pepper” should be taken outside the camp and slaughtered. It said the blood should be sprinkled and the whole thing—the skin and everything else—should be burned.
I stopped in my tracks. I thought to myself, “Wait a minute. I don’t remember ever hearing about a vegetable sacrifice in the Old Testament!” I started to argue with the app in my head. How do you slaughter a pepper? Why would you sprinkle pepper juice? I decided to hit the “back” button and listen again. I listened a second time, and I still heard “red pepper.” I was even more confused now. Finally, on the third try, I slowed down and really focused. That is when I realized the Lord was asking for a red heifer (a cow), not a snack from the garden!
It is pretty funny that this happened right after our sermon on Sunday. We have been talking about how we need to be “quick to listen.” In the book of James, it tells us that we should be fast to listen but slow to speak. King Solomon says the same thing in Proverbs: wise people are good listeners.
Even outside of the Bible, people like Stephen Covey have said we should “seek first to understand.” There is a big difference between just hearing a noise and actually listening to understand what is being said.
This mistake was a great reminder for me. In our world today, it is so easy to half-listen to people. We hear a few words, assume we know what they mean, and then we start planning what we want to say next. But if we don’t take the time to truly understand, we might miss the point entirely.
If we don’t learn to listen with our hearts, we might show up to our next “spiritual backyard BBQ” with a tiny red pepper when God was actually asking for something much bigger! This week, let’s all try to slow down. Let’s make sure we are really hearing the people around us—and the voice of God—so we don’t get our peppers and our heifers mixed up.
I have a habit of listening to the Bible on an app rather than just reading the words on a page. I like doing this because it’s how people in Jesus’ time would have learned about God—by hearing the stories out loud.
I was listening to Numbers 19:1. In that verse, the Lord tells Moses and Aaron to have the people of Israel bring them a “red heifer.” A heifer is just a young female cow. But as I was walking along, that is not what I heard.
My brain heard: “Bring Aaron a red pepper.”
I was so confused! The verses kept going, giving very specific instructions on what to do with this “pepper.” The Bible said the “pepper” should be taken outside the camp and slaughtered. It said the blood should be sprinkled and the whole thing—the skin and everything else—should be burned.
I stopped in my tracks. I thought to myself, “Wait a minute. I don’t remember ever hearing about a vegetable sacrifice in the Old Testament!” I started to argue with the app in my head. How do you slaughter a pepper? Why would you sprinkle pepper juice? I decided to hit the “back” button and listen again. I listened a second time, and I still heard “red pepper.” I was even more confused now. Finally, on the third try, I slowed down and really focused. That is when I realized the Lord was asking for a red heifer (a cow), not a snack from the garden!
It is pretty funny that this happened right after our sermon on Sunday. We have been talking about how we need to be “quick to listen.” In the book of James, it tells us that we should be fast to listen but slow to speak. King Solomon says the same thing in Proverbs: wise people are good listeners.
Even outside of the Bible, people like Stephen Covey have said we should “seek first to understand.” There is a big difference between just hearing a noise and actually listening to understand what is being said.
This mistake was a great reminder for me. In our world today, it is so easy to half-listen to people. We hear a few words, assume we know what they mean, and then we start planning what we want to say next. But if we don’t take the time to truly understand, we might miss the point entirely.
If we don’t learn to listen with our hearts, we might show up to our next “spiritual backyard BBQ” with a tiny red pepper when God was actually asking for something much bigger! This week, let’s all try to slow down. Let’s make sure we are really hearing the people around us—and the voice of God—so we don’t get our peppers and our heifers mixed up.
We Must Do Better
We Must Do Better
“We must do better.”
These words have been spoken often as we look at the tension, pain, and confusion in our world. They are not meant to place blame. They are an invitation to pause and reflect on who we are and how we treat one another.
Long before our time, wisdom was offered for moments just like this. King Solomon wrote, “A gentle answer deflects anger, but harsh words make tempers flare” (Proverbs 15:1, NLT). His words remind us that how we speak matters. When emotions run high, sharp words usually make things worse. Gentle words, spoken with care, can calm a situation instead of fueling it.
Jesus spoke with the same heart when He said, “God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God” (Matthew 5:9, NLT). Jesus did not ignore conflict, but He always pointed people toward peace. He understood that real strength is shown not through force or shouting, but through compassion, patience, and love for others.
James, writing to early believers facing pressure and disagreement, offered practical wisdom: “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” (James 1:19, NLT). These words feel especially important today. Listening before reacting can change the tone of a conversation. Slowing down can keep a hard moment from becoming a harmful one.
When tensions rise, leaders at every level face difficult choices. Their words and actions carry great weight. Calm leadership, careful speech, and a desire for peace can help steady a shaken community. Change that lasts rarely comes through anger alone, but through thoughtful work and respectful dialogue.
We also share responsibility as neighbors and community members. Each of us has the power to ease tension or increase it. We can choose not to harm others, not to destroy, and not to make daily life harder for people who are simply trying to live and work. Peaceful expression matters, but peace itself must remain at the center.
This reflection is personal for me. I am the child of an immigrant. My mother came to this country after World War II hoping for a better life. She waited patiently, followed the rules, and lived with gratitude for the opportunities she was given. Her story reminds me that behind every issue are real people with real hopes.
“We must do better” is not a demand. It is a reminder. A reminder that gentle words matter, listening matters, and peace is worth seeking. Wisdom—whether from Solomon, James, or Jesus—still points us toward a better way of living together.
“We must do better.”
These words have been spoken often as we look at the tension, pain, and confusion in our world. They are not meant to place blame. They are an invitation to pause and reflect on who we are and how we treat one another.
Long before our time, wisdom was offered for moments just like this. King Solomon wrote, “A gentle answer deflects anger, but harsh words make tempers flare” (Proverbs 15:1, NLT). His words remind us that how we speak matters. When emotions run high, sharp words usually make things worse. Gentle words, spoken with care, can calm a situation instead of fueling it.
Jesus spoke with the same heart when He said, “God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God” (Matthew 5:9, NLT). Jesus did not ignore conflict, but He always pointed people toward peace. He understood that real strength is shown not through force or shouting, but through compassion, patience, and love for others.
James, writing to early believers facing pressure and disagreement, offered practical wisdom: “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” (James 1:19, NLT). These words feel especially important today. Listening before reacting can change the tone of a conversation. Slowing down can keep a hard moment from becoming a harmful one.
When tensions rise, leaders at every level face difficult choices. Their words and actions carry great weight. Calm leadership, careful speech, and a desire for peace can help steady a shaken community. Change that lasts rarely comes through anger alone, but through thoughtful work and respectful dialogue.
We also share responsibility as neighbors and community members. Each of us has the power to ease tension or increase it. We can choose not to harm others, not to destroy, and not to make daily life harder for people who are simply trying to live and work. Peaceful expression matters, but peace itself must remain at the center.
This reflection is personal for me. I am the child of an immigrant. My mother came to this country after World War II hoping for a better life. She waited patiently, followed the rules, and lived with gratitude for the opportunities she was given. Her story reminds me that behind every issue are real people with real hopes.
“We must do better” is not a demand. It is a reminder. A reminder that gentle words matter, listening matters, and peace is worth seeking. Wisdom—whether from Solomon, James, or Jesus—still points us toward a better way of living together.
The Wisdom of Silence
Scripture for Reflection: Proverbs 10:19 (NLT): “Too much talk leads to sin. Be sensible and keep your mouth shut.”
If you’ve ever tried to catch a fish—a really good fish, the kind of fish worthy of a photo and a respectful release—you know the absolute, non-negotiable value of stillness. You understand the importance of quiet. A careless twitch of the rod, a loud clearing of the throat, or a sudden, unnecessary splash can send a prize fish darting away before it ever considers your bait.
And yet, in our day-to-day lives, we seem to have collectively forgotten this essential, quiet wisdom. We live in a world that doesn’t just tolerate noise; it rewards it. Our phones ping, our social feeds scroll, and every single person is encouraged to have—and loudly share—an opinion on everything, all the time. Our culture acts as if silence is a vacuum that must be instantly filled with ourselves.
But the timeless wisdom of the Scriptures, captured perfectly in today’s proverb, whispers a profound warning against this tendency: “Too much talk leads to sin. Be sensible and keep your mouth shut.”
The Bible doesn’t hate speech; it hates the sin that too often rides in on the back of careless, constant, or uncontrolled speech. Think of all the ways our words can go wrong: the gossip that starts as a “need to share,” the snap judgment that burns a bridge, the quick, cutting joke, or the unnecessary defense that turns a simple disagreement into a full-blown war.
And this brings us to a phrase worth meditating on as we navigate this noisy world: It is often more wise to remain silent than it is to exercise a freedom of speech.
This isn’t about surrendering your right to speak; it’s about elevating your wisdom above your immediate, often defensive, impulse. It’s about recognizing that not every thought needs to be a declaration, and not every comment needs to be heard.
I once knew a wonderful soul named Silas who fished the quietest coves along the coast. He was a master of his craft, not because he had the latest, greatest gear, but because he had the greatest patience.
Silas used to say, “Son, fishing is just like a good marriage—it’s 90 percent listening and 10 percent knowing when to gently tug.”
One blustery morning, a young, eager fisherman pulled his boat up beside Silas. The young man, bursting with energy and frustration, immediately started complaining to Silas: about the choppy water, about his faulty depth-finder, and especially about his lack of catch. He just kept talking—loudly—about all the mistakes everyone else was making and how he would fix them.
Silas, who was just settling his line, simply smiled, dipped his hand in the water, and held up a finger to his lips. “Easy, friend,” he whispered. “The fish are listening.”
The young man scoffed. “Fish don’t have ears, old man! I know they don’t.”
Silas chuckled warmly, shaking his head. “Ah, but they feel the vibration. They feel the commotion. Every time you get loud and thrashy, you tell the whole water you’re desperate, you’re reckless, and you’re no good to be around. The good fish—the ones with true wisdom—they swim away to find a quiet place.”
Silas wasn’t just talking about bass and trout; he was talking about peace, opportunity, and the richness of relationship—with God and with others.
Our spiritual lives, and the friendships we cherish, are like that quiet cove. When we fill them with continuous, reckless chatter, we create spiritual commotion that pushes away the good “catch”—the peace of God, the clarity of thought, and the patience needed for true wisdom.
When we keep our mouths shut, we are creating a place of stillness where the Holy Spirit can move and where true blessings can gently settle. The sensible person that Proverbs describes understands that silence is not weakness; it is a profound act of spiritual control. It is choosing to hear the still, small voice of God over the immediate, loud demands of our own ego or the crowd.
As you go through your day, ask yourself: Am I speaking to help, or am I speaking simply to make noise?
Let the warm wisdom of the old fisherman settle deep in your heart. Seek to be quick to listen and slow to speak. In doing so, you will not only avoid the sin that so easily trips up the careless talker, but you will also create the quiet, calm waters where the greatest spiritual catches can be made.
Reflection Step: Before engaging in a significant conversation today, close your eyes and take a deep breath. Pray a two-second silent prayer: “Lord, help me be sensible.” Then, actively listen twice as much as you speak.
If you’ve ever tried to catch a fish—a really good fish, the kind of fish worthy of a photo and a respectful release—you know the absolute, non-negotiable value of stillness. You understand the importance of quiet. A careless twitch of the rod, a loud clearing of the throat, or a sudden, unnecessary splash can send a prize fish darting away before it ever considers your bait.
And yet, in our day-to-day lives, we seem to have collectively forgotten this essential, quiet wisdom. We live in a world that doesn’t just tolerate noise; it rewards it. Our phones ping, our social feeds scroll, and every single person is encouraged to have—and loudly share—an opinion on everything, all the time. Our culture acts as if silence is a vacuum that must be instantly filled with ourselves.
But the timeless wisdom of the Scriptures, captured perfectly in today’s proverb, whispers a profound warning against this tendency: “Too much talk leads to sin. Be sensible and keep your mouth shut.”
The Bible doesn’t hate speech; it hates the sin that too often rides in on the back of careless, constant, or uncontrolled speech. Think of all the ways our words can go wrong: the gossip that starts as a “need to share,” the snap judgment that burns a bridge, the quick, cutting joke, or the unnecessary defense that turns a simple disagreement into a full-blown war.
And this brings us to a phrase worth meditating on as we navigate this noisy world: It is often more wise to remain silent than it is to exercise a freedom of speech.
This isn’t about surrendering your right to speak; it’s about elevating your wisdom above your immediate, often defensive, impulse. It’s about recognizing that not every thought needs to be a declaration, and not every comment needs to be heard.
I once knew a wonderful soul named Silas who fished the quietest coves along the coast. He was a master of his craft, not because he had the latest, greatest gear, but because he had the greatest patience.
Silas used to say, “Son, fishing is just like a good marriage—it’s 90 percent listening and 10 percent knowing when to gently tug.”
One blustery morning, a young, eager fisherman pulled his boat up beside Silas. The young man, bursting with energy and frustration, immediately started complaining to Silas: about the choppy water, about his faulty depth-finder, and especially about his lack of catch. He just kept talking—loudly—about all the mistakes everyone else was making and how he would fix them.
Silas, who was just settling his line, simply smiled, dipped his hand in the water, and held up a finger to his lips. “Easy, friend,” he whispered. “The fish are listening.”
The young man scoffed. “Fish don’t have ears, old man! I know they don’t.”
Silas chuckled warmly, shaking his head. “Ah, but they feel the vibration. They feel the commotion. Every time you get loud and thrashy, you tell the whole water you’re desperate, you’re reckless, and you’re no good to be around. The good fish—the ones with true wisdom—they swim away to find a quiet place.”
Silas wasn’t just talking about bass and trout; he was talking about peace, opportunity, and the richness of relationship—with God and with others.
Our spiritual lives, and the friendships we cherish, are like that quiet cove. When we fill them with continuous, reckless chatter, we create spiritual commotion that pushes away the good “catch”—the peace of God, the clarity of thought, and the patience needed for true wisdom.
When we keep our mouths shut, we are creating a place of stillness where the Holy Spirit can move and where true blessings can gently settle. The sensible person that Proverbs describes understands that silence is not weakness; it is a profound act of spiritual control. It is choosing to hear the still, small voice of God over the immediate, loud demands of our own ego or the crowd.
As you go through your day, ask yourself: Am I speaking to help, or am I speaking simply to make noise?
Let the warm wisdom of the old fisherman settle deep in your heart. Seek to be quick to listen and slow to speak. In doing so, you will not only avoid the sin that so easily trips up the careless talker, but you will also create the quiet, calm waters where the greatest spiritual catches can be made.
Reflection Step: Before engaging in a significant conversation today, close your eyes and take a deep breath. Pray a two-second silent prayer: “Lord, help me be sensible.” Then, actively listen twice as much as you speak.
The Price of Free
Galatians 5:13 (NLT) — “For you have been called to live in freedom, my brothers and sisters. But don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love.”
There’s a saying that’s been rolling around in my head this week: “The price of free is always paid for by another.”
That line hits differently on Veterans Day. Freedom has a price tag—always has. Some paid it with years away from home, others with scars seen and unseen, and some paid it with their very lives. Every time we breathe the air of liberty, we inhale a gift someone else fought to preserve.
When I was younger, I used to think freedom just was—like sunshine or gravity—something that existed naturally and belonged to everyone equally. But as I’ve grown (and hopefully gotten a little wiser), I’ve realized freedom doesn’t just happen. Someone carries it on their back, through the mud, through the fear, through the fire. Freedom is never free—it’s borrowed from the brave.
And that’s where the Gospel comes crashing in, doesn’t it? Jesus, too, paid the price for our freedom. The cross wasn’t a moment of convenience; it was the ultimate act of courage and love. In His suffering, He took on the weight of sin, fear, and death so that you and I could live forgiven, unchained, and fully alive.
In Wesleyan theology, we often talk about grace as God’s love freely given to us. But even “free grace” came at a cost—just not one we could ever afford. Christ’s death and resurrection bought our pardon, opened our prison doors, and whispered into our weary hearts, “You’re free to go—and free to serve.”
Veterans embody a glimpse of that divine story. Their service reflects the heart of sacrificial love. When John Wesley wrote about holiness, he said it wasn’t about rules or perfection—it was about “love excluding sin and filling the heart.” In other words, holiness looks like love in motion. And that’s what we see in every person who has put on a uniform and chosen service over self.
I remember talking once with a veteran who told me, half-jokingly, “I didn’t sign up for the pay.” Then he grinned and added, “I just wanted to make sure my kids could grow up in a country that let them chase their dreams.” There was humor in his words, but also deep truth. Service motivated by love always costs something—but it’s the kind of cost that transforms us.
So today, let’s be thankful—not with passive gratitude that nods politely and moves on, but with the kind that stirs us to action. Let’s honor veterans by living with purpose, compassion, and courage. Let’s honor Christ by using our spiritual freedom not for comfort, but for service.
Because here’s the thing: gratitude that never gets its hands dirty isn’t gratitude at all—it’s sentiment. True thankfulness looks like helping a neighbor, forgiving someone who doesn’t deserve it, or showing up when it would be easier to stay home.
Veterans remind us that freedom worth having is freedom worth sharing. Jesus reminds us that freedom worth sharing is freedom worth dying for.
So, this Veterans Day, as we pause to remember and to give thanks, let’s also recommit ourselves to the holy work of love—the kind that costs something but gives everything. The price of free was paid once and for all on a hill called Calvary. Our response is simple: live free, love deeply, and serve faithfully.
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for the men and women who have served our country and for Your Son, who served humanity. Teach us to live in gratitude—not just in words, but in the way we love and serve others. Help us honor the gift of freedom by walking in grace and sharing it freely. Amen.
There’s a saying that’s been rolling around in my head this week: “The price of free is always paid for by another.”
That line hits differently on Veterans Day. Freedom has a price tag—always has. Some paid it with years away from home, others with scars seen and unseen, and some paid it with their very lives. Every time we breathe the air of liberty, we inhale a gift someone else fought to preserve.
When I was younger, I used to think freedom just was—like sunshine or gravity—something that existed naturally and belonged to everyone equally. But as I’ve grown (and hopefully gotten a little wiser), I’ve realized freedom doesn’t just happen. Someone carries it on their back, through the mud, through the fear, through the fire. Freedom is never free—it’s borrowed from the brave.
And that’s where the Gospel comes crashing in, doesn’t it? Jesus, too, paid the price for our freedom. The cross wasn’t a moment of convenience; it was the ultimate act of courage and love. In His suffering, He took on the weight of sin, fear, and death so that you and I could live forgiven, unchained, and fully alive.
In Wesleyan theology, we often talk about grace as God’s love freely given to us. But even “free grace” came at a cost—just not one we could ever afford. Christ’s death and resurrection bought our pardon, opened our prison doors, and whispered into our weary hearts, “You’re free to go—and free to serve.”
Veterans embody a glimpse of that divine story. Their service reflects the heart of sacrificial love. When John Wesley wrote about holiness, he said it wasn’t about rules or perfection—it was about “love excluding sin and filling the heart.” In other words, holiness looks like love in motion. And that’s what we see in every person who has put on a uniform and chosen service over self.
I remember talking once with a veteran who told me, half-jokingly, “I didn’t sign up for the pay.” Then he grinned and added, “I just wanted to make sure my kids could grow up in a country that let them chase their dreams.” There was humor in his words, but also deep truth. Service motivated by love always costs something—but it’s the kind of cost that transforms us.
So today, let’s be thankful—not with passive gratitude that nods politely and moves on, but with the kind that stirs us to action. Let’s honor veterans by living with purpose, compassion, and courage. Let’s honor Christ by using our spiritual freedom not for comfort, but for service.
Because here’s the thing: gratitude that never gets its hands dirty isn’t gratitude at all—it’s sentiment. True thankfulness looks like helping a neighbor, forgiving someone who doesn’t deserve it, or showing up when it would be easier to stay home.
Veterans remind us that freedom worth having is freedom worth sharing. Jesus reminds us that freedom worth sharing is freedom worth dying for.
So, this Veterans Day, as we pause to remember and to give thanks, let’s also recommit ourselves to the holy work of love—the kind that costs something but gives everything. The price of free was paid once and for all on a hill called Calvary. Our response is simple: live free, love deeply, and serve faithfully.
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for the men and women who have served our country and for Your Son, who served humanity. Teach us to live in gratitude—not just in words, but in the way we love and serve others. Help us honor the gift of freedom by walking in grace and sharing it freely. Amen.
The Ant and A Steering Wheel
It seems like every few years, a new movement rises up to shout, “No kings!” It’s an old sentiment wearing a fresh coat of paint — this time around, protesters marched with banners declaring their independence from any authority that dares to tell them how to live, think, or believe.
I watched some of the coverage this past Saturday, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of understanding and sadness. On one hand, who among us hasn’t felt the pull to push back against control? We love our freedom — it’s part of our national DNA. But on the other hand, this “No Kings” cry reveals something deeper, something that runs to the very heart of the human condition: we want to be our own rulers.
And that’s not new at all. It’s as old as Eden.
The First “No Kings” Protest
When Adam and Eve bit into that forbidden fruit, it wasn’t about hunger — it was about autonomy. They didn’t want to live under God’s rule anymore. They wanted to call their own shots. “No kings,” they said, though not with words but with a bite.
The book of Judges ends with a haunting line:
“In those days Israel had no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.” — Judges 21:25 (NLT)
That verse could easily headline our news today. We’ve traded monarchs for algorithms, prophets for influencers, and the idea of divine order for personal preference. Everyone is their own authority, their own truth, their own moral compass.
Yet that kind of freedom isn’t freedom at all — it’s a slow unraveling. When everyone is their own king, we end up in conflict. When everyone defines truth, truth itself loses its meaning.
A Fisherman’s Reflection
As a fisherman I am always tryting to outsmart some particularly uncooperative fish. As I cast and reeled in my line, I’ve noticed how often I get impatient. I want the fish to bite now, the weather to stay perfect, and the line to land exactly where I planned. In other words, I wanted to be in control.
And as any fisherman knows, that’s not how it works. You can’t force nature into submission. You can prepare, you can learn, you can cast — but at the end of the day, you’re at the mercy of something beyond you.
I think that’s why Jesus chose fishermen. We understand dependency. We know what it’s like to wait, to trust, to not be in control. That’s also what it means to follow one King — to lay down the illusion that we can captain our own ship.
The Only King Worth Following
Jesus didn’t come to establish an earthly kingdom with borders and palaces. He came to reclaim hearts that had wandered off in search of their own thrones.
“My Kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus said. — John 18:36 (NLT)
His crown was made of thorns, not gold. His throne was a cross. His power came through humility, and His rule through love. In a world shouting, “No kings!” Jesus quietly whispers, “Follow Me.”
And that’s where it gets uncomfortable. Because following Jesus means giving up the right to rule ourselves. It means surrendering our favorite excuses, our private ambitions, our moral shortcuts, and our insistence that we know best.
It’s not an easy message — but it’s a freeing one.
The Ant and the Steering Wheel
I once heard a story about an ant who decided to drive a car. The ant climbed up to the steering wheel, gripped it tight, and started shouting orders: “Go left! Go right!” The car, of course, didn’t move an inch.
After a while, the ant began to pray. “Lord, give me strength!”
Suddenly, the engine roared to life, the car began to move, and the ant proudly yelled, “Look at me go!”
It’s funny — and painfully familiar. We humans love to believe we’re steering. But maybe we’re more like that little ant: tiny, limited, and invited to trust the One who’s actually in control.
Freedom Under the King
Real freedom isn’t found in rejecting authority — it’s found in submitting to the right one.
When we follow Jesus, we aren’t losing ourselves; we’re finally discovering who we were created to be. The Apostle Paul put it this way:
“For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” — 2 Corinthians 3:17 (NLT)
Freedom in Christ isn’t anarchy; it’s alignment. It’s not the absence of rules; it’s the presence of grace. It’s not about “no kings” — it’s about one King who knows us, loves us, and leads us toward life.
No Kings… or One Worth Serving?
We can look at the “No Kings” protests and shake our heads, but if we’re honest, there’s a “no kings” protest inside each of us. Every time we say, “I’ll do it my way,” or “I don’t need help,” or “God, I’ve got this,” we’re marching in our own little rebellion.
And yet, even in our defiance, Christ calls us back. He doesn’t demand submission through force — He invites surrender through love.
Maybe that’s the real difference between the world’s kings and Christ. The world’s kings demand power; Jesus lays His down. The world’s kings rule through fear; Jesus rules through forgiveness. The world’s kings come to be served; Jesus came to serve.
A Closing Thought
When we live with “no kings,” life becomes a contest of wills — mine versus yours, truth versus opinion, noise versus noise. But when we live with one King, we find peace in the midst of chaos, purpose in the midst of confusion, and grace in the midst of our imperfections.
So maybe the real question isn’t whether there should be kings at all — but whether the One who already reigns has been given rule over your heart.
“For this reason, God elevated Him to the place of highest honor and gave Him the name above all other names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow.” — Philippians 2:9–10 (NLT)
So I wonder, where in your life have you been gripping the steering wheel like that little ant — and what might happen if you finally let the true King drive?
________________________________________
National Forgiveness Day – Setting the Prisoner Free
Forgiveness: Setting the Prisoner Free (Especially Today)
Today is National Forgiveness Day — a moment set aside, however informally, for us to pause and consider what it means to forgive, how hard it is, and how much freedom it offers. In a world sharply divided — politically, socially, even within our families — forgiveness is often the last thing we want to talk about. But perhaps today is the perfect day.
“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”
Lewis B. Smedes
That quote never loses its weight. At first glance, we imagine that forgiveness is for the other person — that we’re doing them a favor. But the deeper truth is that holding grudges, nursing wounds, keeping the ledger of hurts — those chains bind us. Bitterness, resentment, anger — they imprison the soul. And often, the keys to freedom lie within our hands.
The Bible directs us gently — sometimes sternly — toward that freedom. In Ephesians 4:32, Paul instructs:
“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
Pause on that: forgiving one another just as God through Christ has forgiven you. It’s not a pragmatic suggestion; it’s a spiritual posture. We are invited — actually commanded — to live as people set free.
Why Forgiveness Matters (Especially in Our Time)
It is healing, not forgetting. Sometimes people think that forgiveness means we erase the past or pretend the harm didn’t happen. That’s not Christian forgiveness. True forgiveness is an act of the will: we let go of our bitterness and resentment, but remembering the wrong may remain. We don’t erase memory — we release the charge.
It restores dignity to ourselves. When we extend forgiveness, we reverse the narrative that says, “They control me.” We reclaim our dignity. We say, “I will no longer live in bondage to what happened.”
It offers a witness to a hurting world. In our day, politics is tribal. When the moral temperature rises and every disagreement can feel like a battle, forgiveness is a countercultural act. It says: even when we disagree strongly — even when we feel wounded — we can choose to extend grace.
It frees us to move forward. Grudges quieten our souls into shadows — they whisper that we cannot heal unless the other person changes first. But God’s grace invites us forward now, not later. Forgiveness accelerates our healing.
The Difficulty of Forgiveness
It’s not easy. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes the wound is too deep. We ask: “Why me?” “Why so and so?” That’s valid. Healing is rarely instantaneous. To begin forgiving doesn’t mean erasing all pain immediately — it means starting the journey.
In today’s culture, we see open wounds everywhere: families divided over politics, communities fractured by ideology, people demonizing each other over worldview differences. The temptation is to double down, hone in, dig in. But forgiveness invites us to break the cycle.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring injustice. It doesn’t mean excusing abuse or saying someone’s behavior was okay. It means refusing to let the perpetrator’s actions permanently steal your peace. It means holding your ground but letting the resentment go.
What Might Forgiveness Look Like in Practice?
• Self-forgiveness. Maybe the hardest part: extend grace to your own mistakes. Recognize that God’s forgiveness toward us is the model, and that we too can release guilt and shame.
• Small steps. You don’t have to start with sweeping gestures. A prayer: “Lord, help me forgive X.” Or a private journal entry.
• Honest conversation (if safe). When trust is possible, initiate a dialogue. Apologize, or offer forgiveness — even if reconciliation isn’t immediate.
• Prayer and surrender. Ask God to carry what you cannot. Sometimes our anger is too thick — and we need divine help to release it.
• Boundaries where necessary. Forgiveness does not always mean you re-enter a relationship the way it was before. Boundaries may protect both you and the other.
A Word for the Divided Times
We live in polarized times: left vs. right, progressive vs. conservative, red state vs. blue state. In churches, neighborhoods, families — politics has crept into our worship, our dinners, our group chats. As a pastor, I see that wounds over belief are real wounds.
On National Forgiveness Day, I don’t mean we abandon convictions or dodge accountability. But I do believe that forgiveness is a bridge — not a surrender. When we forgive across differences, we show the world that holiness is stronger than hostility.
We might say in our hearts: “He (or she) is wrong.” — and theologically, we might believe that. But that does not give us permission to hate. Loving our neighbor deeply sometimes means forgiving them even when we believe they’re in error. It may feel counterintuitive, but that’s the gospel rhythm.
When someone Tweets or says something that wounds — when a post divides — let’s remember: every one of those people is a child of God, loved and wounded. We might not agree, but we can forgive. We might need to disagree later, but we can forgive now.
How we can celebrating National Forgiveness day (and Tomorrow)
• Begin with your own heart. As you read this post, pause and ask: Is there someone I need to forgive — myself or another?
• Write it out. Grab a piece of paper or journal. Begin with the simple words: “I forgive you, for…” or “God, help me forgive…”
• If safe, say it aloud. Speak it in prayer or in a gentle conversation.
• Share the journey. Maybe in your small group or with a trusted friend, share a hurt and how you’re letting go. That vulnerability builds community.
• Repeat. Forgiveness is not a one-and-done event. New offenses, old wounds — things surface. So we ask again: “Lord, help me forgive.”
Why We Need This Today
Because bitterness spreads faster than light. Resentment breeds division, distrust, cynicism. Because wounds left unchecked silence faith. Our spiritual life grows when we are free inside. Because God forgave us while we were still sinners. That’s our model (Romans 5). Because in a world screaming for peace, forgiveness whispers: “You don’t have to stay angry.”
To forgive may feel risky. It may feel like yielding. But the paradox is: when we forgive, we gain strength. We gain freedom. We gain a lighter heart. And we no longer carry the prisoner.
So today — on National Forgiveness Day — let us set a table of grace. Let us begin again. Let us forgive — because when the prisoner is you, that release is worth everything.
Today is National Forgiveness Day — a moment set aside, however informally, for us to pause and consider what it means to forgive, how hard it is, and how much freedom it offers. In a world sharply divided — politically, socially, even within our families — forgiveness is often the last thing we want to talk about. But perhaps today is the perfect day.
“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”
Lewis B. Smedes
That quote never loses its weight. At first glance, we imagine that forgiveness is for the other person — that we’re doing them a favor. But the deeper truth is that holding grudges, nursing wounds, keeping the ledger of hurts — those chains bind us. Bitterness, resentment, anger — they imprison the soul. And often, the keys to freedom lie within our hands.
The Bible directs us gently — sometimes sternly — toward that freedom. In Ephesians 4:32, Paul instructs:
“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
Pause on that: forgiving one another just as God through Christ has forgiven you. It’s not a pragmatic suggestion; it’s a spiritual posture. We are invited — actually commanded — to live as people set free.
Why Forgiveness Matters (Especially in Our Time)
It is healing, not forgetting. Sometimes people think that forgiveness means we erase the past or pretend the harm didn’t happen. That’s not Christian forgiveness. True forgiveness is an act of the will: we let go of our bitterness and resentment, but remembering the wrong may remain. We don’t erase memory — we release the charge.
It restores dignity to ourselves. When we extend forgiveness, we reverse the narrative that says, “They control me.” We reclaim our dignity. We say, “I will no longer live in bondage to what happened.”
It offers a witness to a hurting world. In our day, politics is tribal. When the moral temperature rises and every disagreement can feel like a battle, forgiveness is a countercultural act. It says: even when we disagree strongly — even when we feel wounded — we can choose to extend grace.
It frees us to move forward. Grudges quieten our souls into shadows — they whisper that we cannot heal unless the other person changes first. But God’s grace invites us forward now, not later. Forgiveness accelerates our healing.
The Difficulty of Forgiveness
It’s not easy. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes the wound is too deep. We ask: “Why me?” “Why so and so?” That’s valid. Healing is rarely instantaneous. To begin forgiving doesn’t mean erasing all pain immediately — it means starting the journey.
In today’s culture, we see open wounds everywhere: families divided over politics, communities fractured by ideology, people demonizing each other over worldview differences. The temptation is to double down, hone in, dig in. But forgiveness invites us to break the cycle.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring injustice. It doesn’t mean excusing abuse or saying someone’s behavior was okay. It means refusing to let the perpetrator’s actions permanently steal your peace. It means holding your ground but letting the resentment go.
What Might Forgiveness Look Like in Practice?
• Self-forgiveness. Maybe the hardest part: extend grace to your own mistakes. Recognize that God’s forgiveness toward us is the model, and that we too can release guilt and shame.
• Small steps. You don’t have to start with sweeping gestures. A prayer: “Lord, help me forgive X.” Or a private journal entry.
• Honest conversation (if safe). When trust is possible, initiate a dialogue. Apologize, or offer forgiveness — even if reconciliation isn’t immediate.
• Prayer and surrender. Ask God to carry what you cannot. Sometimes our anger is too thick — and we need divine help to release it.
• Boundaries where necessary. Forgiveness does not always mean you re-enter a relationship the way it was before. Boundaries may protect both you and the other.
A Word for the Divided Times
We live in polarized times: left vs. right, progressive vs. conservative, red state vs. blue state. In churches, neighborhoods, families — politics has crept into our worship, our dinners, our group chats. As a pastor, I see that wounds over belief are real wounds.
On National Forgiveness Day, I don’t mean we abandon convictions or dodge accountability. But I do believe that forgiveness is a bridge — not a surrender. When we forgive across differences, we show the world that holiness is stronger than hostility.
We might say in our hearts: “He (or she) is wrong.” — and theologically, we might believe that. But that does not give us permission to hate. Loving our neighbor deeply sometimes means forgiving them even when we believe they’re in error. It may feel counterintuitive, but that’s the gospel rhythm.
When someone Tweets or says something that wounds — when a post divides — let’s remember: every one of those people is a child of God, loved and wounded. We might not agree, but we can forgive. We might need to disagree later, but we can forgive now.
How we can celebrating National Forgiveness day (and Tomorrow)
• Begin with your own heart. As you read this post, pause and ask: Is there someone I need to forgive — myself or another?
• Write it out. Grab a piece of paper or journal. Begin with the simple words: “I forgive you, for…” or “God, help me forgive…”
• If safe, say it aloud. Speak it in prayer or in a gentle conversation.
• Share the journey. Maybe in your small group or with a trusted friend, share a hurt and how you’re letting go. That vulnerability builds community.
• Repeat. Forgiveness is not a one-and-done event. New offenses, old wounds — things surface. So we ask again: “Lord, help me forgive.”
Why We Need This Today
Because bitterness spreads faster than light. Resentment breeds division, distrust, cynicism. Because wounds left unchecked silence faith. Our spiritual life grows when we are free inside. Because God forgave us while we were still sinners. That’s our model (Romans 5). Because in a world screaming for peace, forgiveness whispers: “You don’t have to stay angry.”
To forgive may feel risky. It may feel like yielding. But the paradox is: when we forgive, we gain strength. We gain freedom. We gain a lighter heart. And we no longer carry the prisoner.
So today — on National Forgiveness Day — let us set a table of grace. Let us begin again. Let us forgive — because when the prisoner is you, that release is worth everything.
Love That Doesn’t Look Away
The other night I was cleaning up after dinner, and I noticed something funny. We had spaghetti, and no matter how careful we were, somehow the sauce ended up splattered across the counter, the table, and even a little on the wall. Love is a lot like that—messy, hard to contain, and usually showing up in places you don’t expect. It makes us laugh, but it also makes us think: if love is this messy at the dinner table, how much messier is it when we’re called to love people in a broken world?
Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13 that love is patient and kind. It isn’t jealous, boastful, proud, or rude. It doesn’t insist on its own way, and it doesn’t keep a running tally of wrongs. Real love sticks with people through the highs and lows—it never gives up, never loses faith, and never stops hoping. That’s a beautiful picture, but it’s also a difficult one, because it challenges us to move beyond how society often defines love.
In today’s world, love is frequently confused with agreement. If you don’t affirm every choice someone makes, you’re labeled as unloving or even hateful. I get it—no one wants to feel judged or excluded. But somewhere along the way, we started equating approval with compassion. That’s not biblical love. Charlie Kirk, in his cultural commentary, has often pointed out that our society has lost the ability to disagree without division. While I may not agree with him on everything, I think he’s right about this: when we make agreement the price of love, we shrink love down to something shallow and fragile.
Biblical love, on the other hand, is sturdy. John Wesley described love as the holy temper of the Christian life—the choice to love God with all our heart and to love our neighbor as ourselves. It’s not a mushy feeling or blind acceptance; it’s an active decision to will the very best for another person. And the best for any of us, friend or enemy, is reconciliation with God through Jesus Christ. That’s what love longs for: not just that people feel good in the moment, but that they are drawn into a relationship that changes eternity.
But here’s where it gets tricky. Loving people in this way doesn’t mean approving of everything they do. In fact, Jude 1:22–23 makes it clear: “Show mercy to those whose faith is wavering. Rescue others by pulling them from the fire. Show mercy, but do so with caution, hating the sin that contaminates their lives.” That’s strong language—mercy and hatred of sin in the same breath. It tells me that love doesn’t look away from sin, but it doesn’t turn away from people either.
Bob Goff once wrote, “Love difficult people. You’re one of them.” That line makes me smile every time because I recognize I am one of them. I mean—we’re all messy, all stumbling, all in need of grace. We all make mistakes, I know I do, I often comment “If I’m breathing, I’m probably screwing up something.” And, if God waited to love us until we got everything right, none of us would stand a chance. But God doesn’t confuse our sins with our worth. He sent Jesus to rescue us precisely because His love is stronger than our failures.
So how do we live this out? It starts small. It means praying for the coworker whose choices you don’t agree with but whose value in God’s eyes is infinite. It means offering kindness to a neighbor even when their lifestyle doesn’t reflect your own values. It means teaching our children that love is not flimsy tolerance, but fierce compassion that wants what’s truly best for others. And yes, it means being brave enough to say, “I love you, but I can’t celebrate this choice,” without walking away from the person.
Our culture may tell us that love without approval is hate, but Scripture tells a different story. Love is patient, kind, truthful, and enduring. Love rescues. Love points people back to God. Love makes us willing to get spaghetti sauce on the walls and to step into the messiness of people’s lives, not because it’s easy but because Jesus did it for us first.
So, here’s the question I want to leave with you: What would it look like in your life this week to love someone fully without affirming everything they do? What would it look like to reflect Christ’s love—truthful, merciful, and sacrificial—in a way that makes people curious about the God you serve?
Because at the end of the day, love that never looks away is the love that changes the world.
Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13 that love is patient and kind. It isn’t jealous, boastful, proud, or rude. It doesn’t insist on its own way, and it doesn’t keep a running tally of wrongs. Real love sticks with people through the highs and lows—it never gives up, never loses faith, and never stops hoping. That’s a beautiful picture, but it’s also a difficult one, because it challenges us to move beyond how society often defines love.
In today’s world, love is frequently confused with agreement. If you don’t affirm every choice someone makes, you’re labeled as unloving or even hateful. I get it—no one wants to feel judged or excluded. But somewhere along the way, we started equating approval with compassion. That’s not biblical love. Charlie Kirk, in his cultural commentary, has often pointed out that our society has lost the ability to disagree without division. While I may not agree with him on everything, I think he’s right about this: when we make agreement the price of love, we shrink love down to something shallow and fragile.
Biblical love, on the other hand, is sturdy. John Wesley described love as the holy temper of the Christian life—the choice to love God with all our heart and to love our neighbor as ourselves. It’s not a mushy feeling or blind acceptance; it’s an active decision to will the very best for another person. And the best for any of us, friend or enemy, is reconciliation with God through Jesus Christ. That’s what love longs for: not just that people feel good in the moment, but that they are drawn into a relationship that changes eternity.
But here’s where it gets tricky. Loving people in this way doesn’t mean approving of everything they do. In fact, Jude 1:22–23 makes it clear: “Show mercy to those whose faith is wavering. Rescue others by pulling them from the fire. Show mercy, but do so with caution, hating the sin that contaminates their lives.” That’s strong language—mercy and hatred of sin in the same breath. It tells me that love doesn’t look away from sin, but it doesn’t turn away from people either.
Bob Goff once wrote, “Love difficult people. You’re one of them.” That line makes me smile every time because I recognize I am one of them. I mean—we’re all messy, all stumbling, all in need of grace. We all make mistakes, I know I do, I often comment “If I’m breathing, I’m probably screwing up something.” And, if God waited to love us until we got everything right, none of us would stand a chance. But God doesn’t confuse our sins with our worth. He sent Jesus to rescue us precisely because His love is stronger than our failures.
So how do we live this out? It starts small. It means praying for the coworker whose choices you don’t agree with but whose value in God’s eyes is infinite. It means offering kindness to a neighbor even when their lifestyle doesn’t reflect your own values. It means teaching our children that love is not flimsy tolerance, but fierce compassion that wants what’s truly best for others. And yes, it means being brave enough to say, “I love you, but I can’t celebrate this choice,” without walking away from the person.
Our culture may tell us that love without approval is hate, but Scripture tells a different story. Love is patient, kind, truthful, and enduring. Love rescues. Love points people back to God. Love makes us willing to get spaghetti sauce on the walls and to step into the messiness of people’s lives, not because it’s easy but because Jesus did it for us first.
So, here’s the question I want to leave with you: What would it look like in your life this week to love someone fully without affirming everything they do? What would it look like to reflect Christ’s love—truthful, merciful, and sacrificial—in a way that makes people curious about the God you serve?
Because at the end of the day, love that never looks away is the love that changes the world.
The URL Bomb
The URL Bomb
Have you ever sent a URL bomb? In case you didn’t know, a URL is the address of a particular website—it’s an acronym that stands for “Uniform Resource Locator.” Now, before you get nervous, let me explain. By “URL bomb,” I don’t mean anything destructive or dangerous. What I mean is the action of sending your spouse or a friend a link with hopes that they’ll try to listen to your text on their vehicle’s text-to-voice system. And what comes out is something like: “h-t-t-p-slash-slash-w-w-w-dot-facebook-dot…” You get the picture, right?
On occasion, I’ll try this with my spouse. Bless her heart for putting up with me. As the true professional wife she is, she rarely admits when I’ve gotten her. But the other day, I sent her a funny video from Instagram while she was driving to work. As is our habit, I called her about 20 minutes into her commute so we could go over our day and then pray together once she pulled into the parking lot. After the “amen,” I encouraged her to watch the video and keep it handy for whenever our dog decided to be more puppy than her age should allow.
To which my wife retorted, “Yeah, that video—I listened to your text. ‘http…’” We both got a laugh—myself a little heartier than her—and after a moment of Scripture that morning, without even thinking, I looked up and thanked God for that laugh.
And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? God has a wonderful sense of humor. We are created in His image, which means He gave us the gift of laughter, the ability to find joy even in the small and silly things. Life is often heavy enough, but joy breaks through like sunlight. The writer of Proverbs put it this way: “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength” (Proverbs 17:22, NLT). Maybe that’s part of God’s design: that even in the midst of routine or hardship, a shared laugh reminds us that He is near, that He is good, and that joy—like His mercy—is new every morning.
So, the next time you find yourself chuckling at something small (even a URL bomb), don’t be afraid to thank God for it. He gave us laughter for a reason.
Have you ever sent a URL bomb? In case you didn’t know, a URL is the address of a particular website—it’s an acronym that stands for “Uniform Resource Locator.” Now, before you get nervous, let me explain. By “URL bomb,” I don’t mean anything destructive or dangerous. What I mean is the action of sending your spouse or a friend a link with hopes that they’ll try to listen to your text on their vehicle’s text-to-voice system. And what comes out is something like: “h-t-t-p-slash-slash-w-w-w-dot-facebook-dot…” You get the picture, right?
On occasion, I’ll try this with my spouse. Bless her heart for putting up with me. As the true professional wife she is, she rarely admits when I’ve gotten her. But the other day, I sent her a funny video from Instagram while she was driving to work. As is our habit, I called her about 20 minutes into her commute so we could go over our day and then pray together once she pulled into the parking lot. After the “amen,” I encouraged her to watch the video and keep it handy for whenever our dog decided to be more puppy than her age should allow.
To which my wife retorted, “Yeah, that video—I listened to your text. ‘http…’” We both got a laugh—myself a little heartier than her—and after a moment of Scripture that morning, without even thinking, I looked up and thanked God for that laugh.
And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? God has a wonderful sense of humor. We are created in His image, which means He gave us the gift of laughter, the ability to find joy even in the small and silly things. Life is often heavy enough, but joy breaks through like sunlight. The writer of Proverbs put it this way: “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength” (Proverbs 17:22, NLT). Maybe that’s part of God’s design: that even in the midst of routine or hardship, a shared laugh reminds us that He is near, that He is good, and that joy—like His mercy—is new every morning.
So, the next time you find yourself chuckling at something small (even a URL bomb), don’t be afraid to thank God for it. He gave us laughter for a reason.
Gentle in Nature-Strong in Deed-Courageous in Love
For whatever reason—whether by happenstance or, as I believe, divine intervention—the books placed in my hands over the last six months have all centered around leaders of this nation. Women and men who have been placed in positions to shape the course of humanity’s future. A future filled with diverse perspectives, complex challenges, and so many unknowns.
What’s struck me most in these stories is this: the greatest among these leaders didn’t cling tightly to power. Instead, they understood that real strength is found in using influence for the good of others—and in trusting that the work done in faith and love will outlast them. In 1797, when John Adams was sworn in as the second President of the United States, the world witnessed something unprecedented: a peaceful transfer of power. No war, no bloodshed—just the commitment to a shared vision for the common good. That moment was more than political; it was moral, even spiritual.
Today, we often find ourselves entrenched in arguments over details, acting as if we’re on opposing teams. We forget we are one team—one people—called to seek the greater good of our communities and our nation. What’s disheartening is how this combative spirit has crept into our churches. Too many of us speak with absolute certainty, as if God Himself etched our opinions into stone and handed them down on a mountaintop behind our church. But God’s truth is far more complex, revealed not through a single voice, but through the lives of countless people across history, culture, and circumstance.
I’ll be honest: I’ve fallen into the trap of certainty too. I’ve clung to my own answers, forgetting that Joey down the street, or Connie Sue across the pew, don’t have the full picture either. But together—together—we begin to fill in the numbers of the divine paint-by-number that God has placed before us. And when we listen to each other’s stories, when we honor each other’s perspectives, we start to see the shape of God’s direction: love.
It always comes back to love, doesn’t it? We lost paradise, but God gave us the tools to survive. We found ourselves in chains—some placed by others, some of our own making—but God broke them. Over and over, we took wrong turns, spoke wrong words, committed wrong deeds, and still, God sent Jesus—an act of ultimate love—to set us free. And yet, somehow, in today’s world, if someone disagrees with us, votes differently, or belongs to another community, we’re ready to cast them out. Yeah, I said it.
Love doesn’t mean agreeing with everything. And it definitely doesn’t mean condemning everything we disagree with—unless an action brings real harm to another person, regardless of their stage of life or identity. Love, as it was once described to me, is wanting God’s very best for every person. And that best, I believe, is found in a life anchored in Jesus Christ.
That’s the direction God points us toward when Jesus says the two greatest commandments are to love God and love our neighbors. Not because God needs our love—but because when we seek Him, we align ourselves with His heart. And when we love our neighbors, we should want for them what we want for ourselves: a deep, sustaining relationship with the living God.
When that becomes our focus—loving God and loving people—we begin to catch a glimpse of heaven on earth. We begin to live into a vision where voices are heard, where differences make us stronger, where unity is more than a slogan. Yes, it may seem idealistic—but it’s the very prayer Jesus taught us to pray: “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” It’s the call of Micah 6:8: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”
It’s a vision of lions and lambs, of strength and gentleness woven together. A vision captured in the words engraved on General Dwight Eisenhower’s desk: “Gentle in manner, great in deed.”
So let’s begin speaking words that draw us closer, not push us apart. Let our manner be gentle like the lamb, but may our love—our courageous, Jesus-shaped love—be mighty like the lion.
What’s struck me most in these stories is this: the greatest among these leaders didn’t cling tightly to power. Instead, they understood that real strength is found in using influence for the good of others—and in trusting that the work done in faith and love will outlast them. In 1797, when John Adams was sworn in as the second President of the United States, the world witnessed something unprecedented: a peaceful transfer of power. No war, no bloodshed—just the commitment to a shared vision for the common good. That moment was more than political; it was moral, even spiritual.
Today, we often find ourselves entrenched in arguments over details, acting as if we’re on opposing teams. We forget we are one team—one people—called to seek the greater good of our communities and our nation. What’s disheartening is how this combative spirit has crept into our churches. Too many of us speak with absolute certainty, as if God Himself etched our opinions into stone and handed them down on a mountaintop behind our church. But God’s truth is far more complex, revealed not through a single voice, but through the lives of countless people across history, culture, and circumstance.
I’ll be honest: I’ve fallen into the trap of certainty too. I’ve clung to my own answers, forgetting that Joey down the street, or Connie Sue across the pew, don’t have the full picture either. But together—together—we begin to fill in the numbers of the divine paint-by-number that God has placed before us. And when we listen to each other’s stories, when we honor each other’s perspectives, we start to see the shape of God’s direction: love.
It always comes back to love, doesn’t it? We lost paradise, but God gave us the tools to survive. We found ourselves in chains—some placed by others, some of our own making—but God broke them. Over and over, we took wrong turns, spoke wrong words, committed wrong deeds, and still, God sent Jesus—an act of ultimate love—to set us free. And yet, somehow, in today’s world, if someone disagrees with us, votes differently, or belongs to another community, we’re ready to cast them out. Yeah, I said it.
Love doesn’t mean agreeing with everything. And it definitely doesn’t mean condemning everything we disagree with—unless an action brings real harm to another person, regardless of their stage of life or identity. Love, as it was once described to me, is wanting God’s very best for every person. And that best, I believe, is found in a life anchored in Jesus Christ.
That’s the direction God points us toward when Jesus says the two greatest commandments are to love God and love our neighbors. Not because God needs our love—but because when we seek Him, we align ourselves with His heart. And when we love our neighbors, we should want for them what we want for ourselves: a deep, sustaining relationship with the living God.
When that becomes our focus—loving God and loving people—we begin to catch a glimpse of heaven on earth. We begin to live into a vision where voices are heard, where differences make us stronger, where unity is more than a slogan. Yes, it may seem idealistic—but it’s the very prayer Jesus taught us to pray: “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” It’s the call of Micah 6:8: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”
It’s a vision of lions and lambs, of strength and gentleness woven together. A vision captured in the words engraved on General Dwight Eisenhower’s desk: “Gentle in manner, great in deed.”
So let’s begin speaking words that draw us closer, not push us apart. Let our manner be gentle like the lamb, but may our love—our courageous, Jesus-shaped love—be mighty like the lion.
It’s Time to Step Inside the Circle
Over the past week, I’ve found myself feeling a mix of curiosity, frustration, and if I’m honest, a little disappointment — not at any one person, but just in watching how things unfold around us. This isn’t a new feeling. For years, I’ve seen folks stand just outside the circle — close enough to care, close enough to comment, even close enough to offer suggestions — but not quite stepping in.
Earlier this week, a question hit me—What’s keeping us from stepping back in?
Maybe it’s the benevolent organization your father’s father was a member and today you proudly claim membership in. Maybe it’s your church — the one you were baptized in, the one your grandparents helped build, the one you still refer to as “ours.” But if it’s ours, what’s keeping us from putting our hands, our feet, and our hearts back into the work?
Sure, we say we don’t have time. But most of us still choose what matters most.
We say we forgot. But our phones rarely forget when it’s something we prioritize.
Whatever the reason, I believe most of them can be answered with a little honest reflection.
Here’s a belief I’ve held tightly to—Membership is more than a name on a roll — it’s presence and participation, especially when it’s inconvenient. It’s standing in the circle, even when the work is hard and the rewards aren’t immediate.
Romans 12:4–5 reminds us that the Church is a body — not one part, but many, all working together. Every piece matters. Every person matters. Not just in name, but in purpose.
I recently heard a pastor describe the Church like this:
“We’re part of a global organization with branches all over the world. We run hospitals and homeless shelters, schools and food banks. We care for people from birth to death and all the moments in between.”
Now sure, that lodge or church may not be doing all those things — but if you look closely, we are doing some of them.
They’re feed.
We comfort.
We welcome.
We serve.
And maybe that’s why you joined. Or came once. Or stayed for a while. Or told yourself, I’ll go back someday. But for one reason or another, you stepped back. Maybe it was busyness. Maybe it was a hurt — and if it was, that pain is real, and I want you to know it matters.
But if we all stand outside the circle offering commentary while the circle shrinks, the work fades. The legacy slips. The church, the lodge, the mission — none of it survives on memory alone.
The mind dreams. The mouth speaks. The hands serve. The heart beats. And if any part holds back, the body falters.
It’s time to do more than say we belong. It’s time to put effort behind the we.
Not for obligation’s sake — but because we believe this church this lodge, this community is better when we work together still matters.
And we believe that you do too.
The Golden Rule
Have you noticed what’s been happening in the news lately? A civilian was mistakenly included in a conversation that likely contained classified information. Thankfully, this error didn’t disrupt the mission being discussed, but it was still a mistake.
Once it came to light, the administration acknowledged the error, promised to investigate, and put safeguards in place to prevent it from happening again. But here’s where things get tricky—they downplayed the mistake, choosing instead to highlight the success of the mission. And that’s a problem. The mistake and the success are two separate stories. Both deserve to be acknowledged.
At the same time, those on the other side refuse to recognize any success at all. They focus only on the mistake. There’s no room for, “We messed up,” or “We’re taking a closer look,” or “We’re going to fix it.” Just like a few years ago, during the troop withdrawal, when mistakes were admitted, but the opposing side refused to hear it.
Now, this may not be an exact apples-to-apples comparison, but it’s close enough to remind us of something important: We tend to hold others to a different standard than we hold ourselves.
The truth is, everyone makes mistakes. Politicians, athletes, pastors, church leaders, parents, kids—all of us. The real question isn’t whether we’ll mess up (because we will), but whether we will rise to the occasion, learn from it, grow, and commit to doing better.
Jesus said:
“Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you. This is the essence of all that is taught in the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 7:12, NLT)
Who knew Mom was quoting Jesus when she told us to treat others the way we want to be treated? But maybe it’s time we actually start listening—not just to her, but to Jesus. To listen to our neighbor. To forgive our neighbor. To love our neighbor the way we would want to be listened to, forgiven, and loved.
We can say, “Yeah, but they…”—or we can say, “Yeah, because Jesus did, I will.”
May our words and actions look more like Jesus every day. Amen.
Once it came to light, the administration acknowledged the error, promised to investigate, and put safeguards in place to prevent it from happening again. But here’s where things get tricky—they downplayed the mistake, choosing instead to highlight the success of the mission. And that’s a problem. The mistake and the success are two separate stories. Both deserve to be acknowledged.
At the same time, those on the other side refuse to recognize any success at all. They focus only on the mistake. There’s no room for, “We messed up,” or “We’re taking a closer look,” or “We’re going to fix it.” Just like a few years ago, during the troop withdrawal, when mistakes were admitted, but the opposing side refused to hear it.
Now, this may not be an exact apples-to-apples comparison, but it’s close enough to remind us of something important: We tend to hold others to a different standard than we hold ourselves.
The truth is, everyone makes mistakes. Politicians, athletes, pastors, church leaders, parents, kids—all of us. The real question isn’t whether we’ll mess up (because we will), but whether we will rise to the occasion, learn from it, grow, and commit to doing better.
Jesus said:
“Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you. This is the essence of all that is taught in the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 7:12, NLT)
Who knew Mom was quoting Jesus when she told us to treat others the way we want to be treated? But maybe it’s time we actually start listening—not just to her, but to Jesus. To listen to our neighbor. To forgive our neighbor. To love our neighbor the way we would want to be listened to, forgiven, and loved.
We can say, “Yeah, but they…”—or we can say, “Yeah, because Jesus did, I will.”
May our words and actions look more like Jesus every day. Amen.
The Fear of the Lord: Striving with Hope
There are moments in life when we feel as though we’re walking on a tightrope, trying to balance our faith and our flaws. We long to live up to the expectations of a God who is both all-powerful and loving, yet we know deep down that, as human beings, we will stumble. We will fall. We will miss the mark. This creates a tension between striving to live according to God’s will and the fear of disappointing Him—of letting Him down in ways that feel beyond repair.
But the fear of the Lord, as we often hear it described, is not the kind of fear that paralyzes us in terror or dread. It’s not the fear we experience when facing danger, pain, or harm. Instead, it is the kind of fear that arises from a deep reverence and awe for God’s holiness, majesty, and purpose for our lives. It’s the recognition that He is God, and we are not. And in that realization, we feel a sense of responsibility—not just to follow His commands but to honor Him with the lives we live.
Take a moment to reflect on the life of a father, a man who strives to provide, protect, and care for his family. He loves his children with all his heart and desires nothing more than to see them succeed and flourish. But, as every parent knows, there are times when their child misses the mark—when they disappoint or make mistakes. As a parent, the love doesn’t fade in those moments. The fear that arises is not of anger or punishment but a deep sorrow that comes from knowing their child didn’t live up to their potential, that they’ve veered from the path that leads to flourishing.
This is the fear I speak of when it comes to God. It’s not the fear of retribution but a fear rooted in love—a desire to live in a way that reflects the goodness of the one who created us. The Psalmist reflects this beautifully in Psalm 112:1, “Praise the Lord! How joyful are those who fear the Lord and delight in obeying His commands!” There is joy in honoring God, in seeking to live according to His will, and in pursuing the life He’s called us to.
Yet, we know that we will make mistakes. No one is perfect. We are all flawed. The Apostle Paul himself writes in Romans 7:18-19, “And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.” Even Paul, the apostle, struggled with sin. This is part of the human condition. We strive to honor God, but we fail. And in our failures, we may feel the weight of disappointment—both ours and God’s.
But here’s the beautiful truth: God’s grace is always greater than our failures. In fact, it is in our imperfection that His grace shines brightest. Grace is the hope that anchors us in the midst of our struggles. It’s the unwavering truth that no matter how many times we fall short, God is there to pick us up, dust us off, and invite us to try again. The fear we feel in striving to live a life pleasing to God is not meant to break us down but to draw us closer to His grace.
When we fear the Lord in this way, it’s not a fear that drives us away from God but one that draws us nearer, understanding that His expectations for us are rooted in love, not in condemnation. As the Apostle John writes, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 John 4:18, NLT). God’s perfect love casts out fear because His love is not about punishment but about restoration, forgiveness, and transformation.
This is where our hope lies—knowing that, while we may stumble, God is ever-present with grace to lift us up. He calls us to live in awe of His holiness, to strive to honor Him in all we do, and to accept His forgiveness when we fall short. And through it all, His grace continues to hold us in the tension between striving and failing, between fear and hope.
As you reflect on this, ask yourself: What is the fear of the Lord that calls you to live better, to love more fully, and to serve others? And in those moments when you stumble, how can you rest in the grace that is always there, offering you the strength to rise again?
Let us pray:
Heavenly Father, thank You for Your loving grace that meets us in our imperfections. Help us to fear You in the way that leads us closer to You, to honor You in all we do, and to rest in the assurance of Your forgiveness when we fall short. Strengthen us by Your Spirit, and guide us in Your truth, that we may live lives that reflect Your love and Your holiness. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
But the fear of the Lord, as we often hear it described, is not the kind of fear that paralyzes us in terror or dread. It’s not the fear we experience when facing danger, pain, or harm. Instead, it is the kind of fear that arises from a deep reverence and awe for God’s holiness, majesty, and purpose for our lives. It’s the recognition that He is God, and we are not. And in that realization, we feel a sense of responsibility—not just to follow His commands but to honor Him with the lives we live.
Take a moment to reflect on the life of a father, a man who strives to provide, protect, and care for his family. He loves his children with all his heart and desires nothing more than to see them succeed and flourish. But, as every parent knows, there are times when their child misses the mark—when they disappoint or make mistakes. As a parent, the love doesn’t fade in those moments. The fear that arises is not of anger or punishment but a deep sorrow that comes from knowing their child didn’t live up to their potential, that they’ve veered from the path that leads to flourishing.
This is the fear I speak of when it comes to God. It’s not the fear of retribution but a fear rooted in love—a desire to live in a way that reflects the goodness of the one who created us. The Psalmist reflects this beautifully in Psalm 112:1, “Praise the Lord! How joyful are those who fear the Lord and delight in obeying His commands!” There is joy in honoring God, in seeking to live according to His will, and in pursuing the life He’s called us to.
Yet, we know that we will make mistakes. No one is perfect. We are all flawed. The Apostle Paul himself writes in Romans 7:18-19, “And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.” Even Paul, the apostle, struggled with sin. This is part of the human condition. We strive to honor God, but we fail. And in our failures, we may feel the weight of disappointment—both ours and God’s.
But here’s the beautiful truth: God’s grace is always greater than our failures. In fact, it is in our imperfection that His grace shines brightest. Grace is the hope that anchors us in the midst of our struggles. It’s the unwavering truth that no matter how many times we fall short, God is there to pick us up, dust us off, and invite us to try again. The fear we feel in striving to live a life pleasing to God is not meant to break us down but to draw us closer to His grace.
When we fear the Lord in this way, it’s not a fear that drives us away from God but one that draws us nearer, understanding that His expectations for us are rooted in love, not in condemnation. As the Apostle John writes, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 John 4:18, NLT). God’s perfect love casts out fear because His love is not about punishment but about restoration, forgiveness, and transformation.
This is where our hope lies—knowing that, while we may stumble, God is ever-present with grace to lift us up. He calls us to live in awe of His holiness, to strive to honor Him in all we do, and to accept His forgiveness when we fall short. And through it all, His grace continues to hold us in the tension between striving and failing, between fear and hope.
As you reflect on this, ask yourself: What is the fear of the Lord that calls you to live better, to love more fully, and to serve others? And in those moments when you stumble, how can you rest in the grace that is always there, offering you the strength to rise again?
Let us pray:
Heavenly Father, thank You for Your loving grace that meets us in our imperfections. Help us to fear You in the way that leads us closer to You, to honor You in all we do, and to rest in the assurance of Your forgiveness when we fall short. Strengthen us by Your Spirit, and guide us in Your truth, that we may live lives that reflect Your love and Your holiness. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Speaking Truth With Courage and Integrity
Speaking Truth with Courage and Integrity
There’s a difference between speaking truth and throwing stones. It’s tempting to address difficult situations from a distance—be it from a pulpit, behind a keyboard, or even within a group. But true courage often requires stepping out of the crowd and speaking directly to someone with love and integrity. This one-on-one approach is not only more challenging but also reflects the heart of God’s desire for reconciliation and restoration.
The story of Nathan confronting King David in 2 Samuel 12:1-7 offers a powerful biblical example. After David’s sin with Bathsheba, Nathan could have rebuked the king publicly or in front of his court. Instead, he approached David privately, using a parable to reveal the gravity of his actions. By speaking to David directly, Nathan not only delivered God’s truth but also provided David an opportunity to repent without humiliation. This kind of confrontation is not about shaming—it’s about guiding someone back to the path of righteousness.
In contrast, consider the story in John 8:3-11, where a crowd brought a woman caught in adultery to Jesus, ready to stone her. The crowd acted in self-righteousness, hiding behind their numbers. But Jesus diffused the situation by calling for personal accountability, saying, “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.” He then spoke to the woman privately, showing her grace and urging her to change her life. This highlights the importance of avoiding mob mentality when addressing sin or wrongdoing.
A more modern example comes from Abraham Lincoln. During his presidency, Lincoln often faced criticism, even from members of his own cabinet. Yet, Lincoln was known for his ability to confront disagreements directly and thoughtfully. One famous instance occurred with Edwin Stanton, his Secretary of War, who initially insulted and opposed Lincoln. Rather than respond publicly or angrily, Lincoln approached Stanton with patience and grace. Over time, their working relationship transformed into one of mutual respect, and Stanton became one of Lincoln’s greatest supporters. Lincoln’s example reminds us that speaking truth directly, with humility, can bring about reconciliation and even strengthen relationships.
On the other hand, we’ve all seen situations where someone criticizes another person from afar—be it in a sermon, on social media, or in gossip. While the words may contain truth, the method often undermines the message. It’s easier to address someone indirectly, but it’s far less effective in bringing about change. As Proverbs 27:6 reminds us, “Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy.” A private, honest conversation carries far more weight than a public rebuke that feels impersonal or self-serving.
Practically speaking, approaching someone directly can be uncomfortable. It requires humility, empathy, and a willingness to listen. But it’s also an opportunity to model Christ’s love. Imagine the difference it would make if, instead of criticizing someone in a sermon, a pastor or leader met with them privately to discuss their concerns. That act of courage could open the door to healing, understanding, and transformation.
Jesus modeled this one-on-one approach consistently. He didn’t just preach to crowds; He also engaged individuals like Zacchaeus, Nicodemus, and the Samaritan woman at the well. Each of these encounters was deeply personal, and because of that, they were profoundly impactful. Speaking truth directly to someone, rather than at someone, is an act of love that mirrors Christ’s ministry.
In today’s world, where it’s easy to throw “stones” from behind a pulpit, keyboard, or group of like-minded people, we’re called to a higher standard. Speaking truth to power is not about shaming or overpowering—it’s about seeking reconciliation, restoration, and justice in a way that honors God. So, let’s ask ourselves: Are we speaking truth with courage and integrity, or are we simply throwing stones from a distance?
There’s a difference between speaking truth and throwing stones. It’s tempting to address difficult situations from a distance—be it from a pulpit, behind a keyboard, or even within a group. But true courage often requires stepping out of the crowd and speaking directly to someone with love and integrity. This one-on-one approach is not only more challenging but also reflects the heart of God’s desire for reconciliation and restoration.
The story of Nathan confronting King David in 2 Samuel 12:1-7 offers a powerful biblical example. After David’s sin with Bathsheba, Nathan could have rebuked the king publicly or in front of his court. Instead, he approached David privately, using a parable to reveal the gravity of his actions. By speaking to David directly, Nathan not only delivered God’s truth but also provided David an opportunity to repent without humiliation. This kind of confrontation is not about shaming—it’s about guiding someone back to the path of righteousness.
In contrast, consider the story in John 8:3-11, where a crowd brought a woman caught in adultery to Jesus, ready to stone her. The crowd acted in self-righteousness, hiding behind their numbers. But Jesus diffused the situation by calling for personal accountability, saying, “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.” He then spoke to the woman privately, showing her grace and urging her to change her life. This highlights the importance of avoiding mob mentality when addressing sin or wrongdoing.
A more modern example comes from Abraham Lincoln. During his presidency, Lincoln often faced criticism, even from members of his own cabinet. Yet, Lincoln was known for his ability to confront disagreements directly and thoughtfully. One famous instance occurred with Edwin Stanton, his Secretary of War, who initially insulted and opposed Lincoln. Rather than respond publicly or angrily, Lincoln approached Stanton with patience and grace. Over time, their working relationship transformed into one of mutual respect, and Stanton became one of Lincoln’s greatest supporters. Lincoln’s example reminds us that speaking truth directly, with humility, can bring about reconciliation and even strengthen relationships.
On the other hand, we’ve all seen situations where someone criticizes another person from afar—be it in a sermon, on social media, or in gossip. While the words may contain truth, the method often undermines the message. It’s easier to address someone indirectly, but it’s far less effective in bringing about change. As Proverbs 27:6 reminds us, “Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy.” A private, honest conversation carries far more weight than a public rebuke that feels impersonal or self-serving.
Practically speaking, approaching someone directly can be uncomfortable. It requires humility, empathy, and a willingness to listen. But it’s also an opportunity to model Christ’s love. Imagine the difference it would make if, instead of criticizing someone in a sermon, a pastor or leader met with them privately to discuss their concerns. That act of courage could open the door to healing, understanding, and transformation.
Jesus modeled this one-on-one approach consistently. He didn’t just preach to crowds; He also engaged individuals like Zacchaeus, Nicodemus, and the Samaritan woman at the well. Each of these encounters was deeply personal, and because of that, they were profoundly impactful. Speaking truth directly to someone, rather than at someone, is an act of love that mirrors Christ’s ministry.
In today’s world, where it’s easy to throw “stones” from behind a pulpit, keyboard, or group of like-minded people, we’re called to a higher standard. Speaking truth to power is not about shaming or overpowering—it’s about seeking reconciliation, restoration, and justice in a way that honors God. So, let’s ask ourselves: Are we speaking truth with courage and integrity, or are we simply throwing stones from a distance?
The Cost of Free
In the last couple of weeks, I had a conversation with a friend. Thankfully, we are both relatively mature adults. As we often do, we covered a wide range of topics—family, work, church, sports, theological understandings, and even politics. Remarkably, as the conversation concluded, neither of us felt bruised. Instead, we left smiling, laughing, and even hugging as we went our separate ways.
One topic we touched on was the perennial debate about socialized healthcare, often referred to as “free healthcare.” We quickly agreed that it could never truly be free. Someone would have to bear the cost—ultimately, the taxpayers. The idea of “free” healthcare is, in reality, an illusion.
This led us to discuss free secondary education. Surely, as the “richest” nation on earth, we could afford to educate future generations. We talked about the billions of dollars held in endowments by many colleges and agreed that the cost of attending these institutions could and should be dramatically reduced. But what about those who have already graduated and are burdened with crushing student loan debt?
“Those debts should be forgiven!” one of us proposed. “Forgiven? Like waving a magic wand to make the debt disappear? How does that work?” was the response. Our back-and-forth revealed a reality: student loan forgiveness often transfers the burden of repayment from the borrower to taxpayers who never received the loan’s benefit.
As our conversation wore on, we concluded with a simple truth: “Nothing is free.”
As pastors, this realization seems at odds with the core message of the Gospel: “God’s grace is free to all who believe.” But even God’s saving grace came with a cost. Over 2,000 years ago, the deposit for that grace was laid in a manger—a response to a promise foretold by Isaiah: “To us a child is born, to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9:6, NET).
In this Christmas season, we celebrate that child in the manger—the Son of Man—who taught us to live, love, and give. He bore the price of humanity’s sin so that you and I could be restored to God and one day know eternal life.
Remember, nothing is truly free, especially the gift we celebrate this season. May God’s love overflow in your life today and always.
— The Daily Fisherman
One topic we touched on was the perennial debate about socialized healthcare, often referred to as “free healthcare.” We quickly agreed that it could never truly be free. Someone would have to bear the cost—ultimately, the taxpayers. The idea of “free” healthcare is, in reality, an illusion.
This led us to discuss free secondary education. Surely, as the “richest” nation on earth, we could afford to educate future generations. We talked about the billions of dollars held in endowments by many colleges and agreed that the cost of attending these institutions could and should be dramatically reduced. But what about those who have already graduated and are burdened with crushing student loan debt?
“Those debts should be forgiven!” one of us proposed. “Forgiven? Like waving a magic wand to make the debt disappear? How does that work?” was the response. Our back-and-forth revealed a reality: student loan forgiveness often transfers the burden of repayment from the borrower to taxpayers who never received the loan’s benefit.
As our conversation wore on, we concluded with a simple truth: “Nothing is free.”
As pastors, this realization seems at odds with the core message of the Gospel: “God’s grace is free to all who believe.” But even God’s saving grace came with a cost. Over 2,000 years ago, the deposit for that grace was laid in a manger—a response to a promise foretold by Isaiah: “To us a child is born, to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9:6, NET).
In this Christmas season, we celebrate that child in the manger—the Son of Man—who taught us to live, love, and give. He bore the price of humanity’s sin so that you and I could be restored to God and one day know eternal life.
Remember, nothing is truly free, especially the gift we celebrate this season. May God’s love overflow in your life today and always.
— The Daily Fisherman
Celebrating Joy
“We Speak Different Languages but Often Say the Same Thing”
C. S. Lewis – “That Hideous Strength”
I was struck by this quote as I read it this morning, especially in light of the climate we find ourselves in today. Whether it’s a disagreement within the Church or differences in political ideology, we seem to be more focused on being right than on being righteous.
Think about this: we cannot even get through what is supposed to be one of the most joy-filled seasons of the year without arguing over words. If I offer you a cheerful “Merry Christmas,” it’s not an attempt to impose my Judeo-Christian values on you. Instead, it’s my way of offering a blessing, wishing you joy during this sacred season. Similarly, if you say “Happy Hanukkah” to me, I should be ecstatic that you’ve chosen to invite me into a celebration of light and illumination that holds deep meaning in your life. In a sense, your greeting is a gift—a desire for me to experience the joy that this season brings to you.
We can continue with other greetings, like “Happy Kwanzaa,” which is a celebration of culture through feasting, family, and community, or “Happy Holidays,” a broader acknowledgment of the various festivities and time spent with loved ones. Each of these greetings, though spoken differently, carries a shared intention: to spread goodwill, joy, and a sense of connection.
The apostle Paul reminds us in Romans 12:10 (NLT): “Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.” What better way to embody this than by receiving each other’s greetings with grace and gratitude? Instead of focusing on what separates us, we can choose to celebrate the love and joy that unite us.
So, in this season—whatever it is you are celebrating—I encourage you to look beyond the words and recognize that we are often speaking the same things, only in different languages. When someone offers you a greeting, they are extending a piece of their heart and their joy to you. Let us enter each day with joy, prepared to love and embrace one another.
May we be people who focus less on being right and more on being righteous, reflecting God’s love and peace in all we do.
C. S. Lewis – “That Hideous Strength”
I was struck by this quote as I read it this morning, especially in light of the climate we find ourselves in today. Whether it’s a disagreement within the Church or differences in political ideology, we seem to be more focused on being right than on being righteous.
Think about this: we cannot even get through what is supposed to be one of the most joy-filled seasons of the year without arguing over words. If I offer you a cheerful “Merry Christmas,” it’s not an attempt to impose my Judeo-Christian values on you. Instead, it’s my way of offering a blessing, wishing you joy during this sacred season. Similarly, if you say “Happy Hanukkah” to me, I should be ecstatic that you’ve chosen to invite me into a celebration of light and illumination that holds deep meaning in your life. In a sense, your greeting is a gift—a desire for me to experience the joy that this season brings to you.
We can continue with other greetings, like “Happy Kwanzaa,” which is a celebration of culture through feasting, family, and community, or “Happy Holidays,” a broader acknowledgment of the various festivities and time spent with loved ones. Each of these greetings, though spoken differently, carries a shared intention: to spread goodwill, joy, and a sense of connection.
The apostle Paul reminds us in Romans 12:10 (NLT): “Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.” What better way to embody this than by receiving each other’s greetings with grace and gratitude? Instead of focusing on what separates us, we can choose to celebrate the love and joy that unite us.
So, in this season—whatever it is you are celebrating—I encourage you to look beyond the words and recognize that we are often speaking the same things, only in different languages. When someone offers you a greeting, they are extending a piece of their heart and their joy to you. Let us enter each day with joy, prepared to love and embrace one another.
May we be people who focus less on being right and more on being righteous, reflecting God’s love and peace in all we do.
Listening
“The first duty of love is to listen.” – Paul Tillich
In the contentious nature of today’s society, it seems that few of us desire to live out this first duty—to truly listen. We are often eager to have our points heard, but reluctant to take even a moment to consider a different perspective. Instead, we rush to articulate our limited understanding, drop the proverbial mic, and move on.
Alan Alda once said, “Listening is being open to change through the other person.” That is a remarkable idea. As I grow older (and, I hope, wiser), this truth resonates more deeply with me. Yet, I must admit that I often approach conversations with a set of beliefs I am confident are correct. They may indeed be right for me and my current context, but for my neighbor, they might not fit. Even now, in writing this, I find myself tempted to speak in absolutes rather than embracing the need to be more fluid, like water.
The truth is, I believe each of us can learn from others—their successes, their failures—but only if we are more willing to listen than to speak, to learn rather than to teach, and even to admit when we are wrong. This doesn’t mean blind agreement; listening is about understanding, broadening our perspectives, and cultivating a willingness to grow.
James, the servant of the Lord and earthly brother of Jesus, offers this wisdom:
“Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” (James 1:19, NLT).
As followers of Jesus, we would be wise to heed this advice. While I know I will continue to struggle, imagine how different our communities could be if we were even half as eager to listen as we are to share our opinions or make demands. Imagine if our first step in loving our neighbor was to listen.
Holy God, open my ears and hold my tongue. Help me to hear my siblings in Christ and love them as You love us. Amen.
In the contentious nature of today’s society, it seems that few of us desire to live out this first duty—to truly listen. We are often eager to have our points heard, but reluctant to take even a moment to consider a different perspective. Instead, we rush to articulate our limited understanding, drop the proverbial mic, and move on.
Alan Alda once said, “Listening is being open to change through the other person.” That is a remarkable idea. As I grow older (and, I hope, wiser), this truth resonates more deeply with me. Yet, I must admit that I often approach conversations with a set of beliefs I am confident are correct. They may indeed be right for me and my current context, but for my neighbor, they might not fit. Even now, in writing this, I find myself tempted to speak in absolutes rather than embracing the need to be more fluid, like water.
The truth is, I believe each of us can learn from others—their successes, their failures—but only if we are more willing to listen than to speak, to learn rather than to teach, and even to admit when we are wrong. This doesn’t mean blind agreement; listening is about understanding, broadening our perspectives, and cultivating a willingness to grow.
James, the servant of the Lord and earthly brother of Jesus, offers this wisdom:
“Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” (James 1:19, NLT).
As followers of Jesus, we would be wise to heed this advice. While I know I will continue to struggle, imagine how different our communities could be if we were even half as eager to listen as we are to share our opinions or make demands. Imagine if our first step in loving our neighbor was to listen.
Holy God, open my ears and hold my tongue. Help me to hear my siblings in Christ and love them as You love us. Amen.
Trust In God
Psalm 4
1Answer me when I call to you,
O God who declares me innocent.
Free me from my troubles.
Have mercy on me and hear my prayer.
2How long will you people ruin my reputation?
How long will you make groundless accusations?
How long will you continue your lies?
3You can be sure of this:
The Lord set apart the godly for himself.
The Lord will answer when I call to him.
4Don’t sin by letting anger control you.
Think about it overnight and remain silent.
5Offer sacrifices in the right spirit,
and trust the Lord.
6Many people say, “Who will show us better times?”
Let your face smile on us, Lord.
7You have given me greater joy
than those who have abundant harvests of grain and new wine.
8In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.
Psalm 4 offers profound insights into navigating life’s challenges with faith and courage, making it particularly relevant for men facing various struggles. Like King David, who openly cried out to God in his distress, men are encouraged to acknowledge their difficulties and turn to God for help. In a world often characterized by pressure to appear strong and self-reliant, Psalm 4 reminds us of the power of vulnerability before our Creator. Through honest dialogue with God, men can find strength in admitting their struggles and seeking His guidance. This psalm serves as a beacon of hope, affirming that even in the darkest moments, God’s presence offers solace and direction. As we delve into the depths of Psalm 4, may men find courage to lean on God amidst adversity, trusting in His unfailing love and provision.”
In the opening verses of Psalm 4, we witness King David’s raw honesty as he pours out his heart to God in the midst of adversity. David’s example challenges men to embrace vulnerability and transparency in their relationship with God, recognizing that true strength is found in acknowledging struggles rather than concealing them. As men navigate the complexities of life, whether it be career pressures, family conflicts, or personal insecurities, Psalm 4 encourages them to follow David’s lead by lifting their burdens before God’s throne. By acknowledging their struggles and seeking God’s help, men can experience a profound sense of liberation and peace, knowing that they are not alone in their journey.
The power of Psalm 4 lies in its invitation for men to cultivate a deeper intimacy with God through authentic prayer and dependence. Instead of relying solely on their own abilities or seeking fulfillment in temporary pleasures, men are called to trust in God’s unwavering faithfulness and provision. David’s confidence in God’s favor serves as a beacon of hope, reminding men that their worth and security ultimately come from their relationship with their Heavenly Father. By turning to God with open hearts and humble spirits, men can find strength to face life’s challenges with courage and resilience, knowing that they are upheld by the Almighty who never fails to hear their cries.
In the subsequent verses of Psalm 4, we delve into David’s unwavering trust in God’s faithfulness and provision. His steadfast confidence in God’s favor stands as a powerful reminder for men to prioritize their trust in God over worldly pursuits. David contrasts the fleeting pleasures of material wealth with the enduring peace that comes from trusting in God. This resonates deeply with men who often face the pressures of societal expectations and the allure of success. Psalm 4 calls men to reevaluate their priorities and find true contentment in their relationship with God rather than in external achievements or possessions.
Furthermore, Psalm 4 underscores the importance of finding solace in God’s presence, particularly during times of adversity. David’s acknowledgment of God’s blessings and protection serves as an inspiration for men to seek refuge in the Almighty. Amidst life’s storms, men are encouraged to draw near to God through prayer, meditation, and the study of His Word. By fostering a deeper relationship with God, men can cultivate a sense of peace that surpasses understanding, enabling them to navigate life’s challenges with confidence and resilience. Psalm 4 offers a profound invitation for men to find their strength, security, and peace in the loving embrace of their Heavenly Father.
In conclusion, Psalm 4 serves as a timeless guide for men, inviting them to embrace vulnerability, trust in God’s provision, and find solace in His presence. Through the honest lament of King David, men are encouraged to lay bare their struggles before God, knowing that He hears and cares for them deeply. This psalm challenges men to redefine strength not as self-reliance or worldly success, but as a humble dependence on the unfailing love and guidance of their Creator.
As men journey through life’s trials and triumphs, may Psalm 4 echo in their hearts as a source of courage and assurance. Let them take refuge in the promises of God, knowing that He is their rock and their redeemer. May they find peace in His presence, strength in His provision, and joy in His unfailing love. As men live out the principles of Psalm 4, may they inspire others to seek after God wholeheartedly, trusting in Him as their ultimate source of strength and security.
1Answer me when I call to you,
O God who declares me innocent.
Free me from my troubles.
Have mercy on me and hear my prayer.
2How long will you people ruin my reputation?
How long will you make groundless accusations?
How long will you continue your lies?
3You can be sure of this:
The Lord set apart the godly for himself.
The Lord will answer when I call to him.
4Don’t sin by letting anger control you.
Think about it overnight and remain silent.
5Offer sacrifices in the right spirit,
and trust the Lord.
6Many people say, “Who will show us better times?”
Let your face smile on us, Lord.
7You have given me greater joy
than those who have abundant harvests of grain and new wine.
8In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.
Psalm 4 offers profound insights into navigating life’s challenges with faith and courage, making it particularly relevant for men facing various struggles. Like King David, who openly cried out to God in his distress, men are encouraged to acknowledge their difficulties and turn to God for help. In a world often characterized by pressure to appear strong and self-reliant, Psalm 4 reminds us of the power of vulnerability before our Creator. Through honest dialogue with God, men can find strength in admitting their struggles and seeking His guidance. This psalm serves as a beacon of hope, affirming that even in the darkest moments, God’s presence offers solace and direction. As we delve into the depths of Psalm 4, may men find courage to lean on God amidst adversity, trusting in His unfailing love and provision.”
In the opening verses of Psalm 4, we witness King David’s raw honesty as he pours out his heart to God in the midst of adversity. David’s example challenges men to embrace vulnerability and transparency in their relationship with God, recognizing that true strength is found in acknowledging struggles rather than concealing them. As men navigate the complexities of life, whether it be career pressures, family conflicts, or personal insecurities, Psalm 4 encourages them to follow David’s lead by lifting their burdens before God’s throne. By acknowledging their struggles and seeking God’s help, men can experience a profound sense of liberation and peace, knowing that they are not alone in their journey.
The power of Psalm 4 lies in its invitation for men to cultivate a deeper intimacy with God through authentic prayer and dependence. Instead of relying solely on their own abilities or seeking fulfillment in temporary pleasures, men are called to trust in God’s unwavering faithfulness and provision. David’s confidence in God’s favor serves as a beacon of hope, reminding men that their worth and security ultimately come from their relationship with their Heavenly Father. By turning to God with open hearts and humble spirits, men can find strength to face life’s challenges with courage and resilience, knowing that they are upheld by the Almighty who never fails to hear their cries.
In the subsequent verses of Psalm 4, we delve into David’s unwavering trust in God’s faithfulness and provision. His steadfast confidence in God’s favor stands as a powerful reminder for men to prioritize their trust in God over worldly pursuits. David contrasts the fleeting pleasures of material wealth with the enduring peace that comes from trusting in God. This resonates deeply with men who often face the pressures of societal expectations and the allure of success. Psalm 4 calls men to reevaluate their priorities and find true contentment in their relationship with God rather than in external achievements or possessions.
Furthermore, Psalm 4 underscores the importance of finding solace in God’s presence, particularly during times of adversity. David’s acknowledgment of God’s blessings and protection serves as an inspiration for men to seek refuge in the Almighty. Amidst life’s storms, men are encouraged to draw near to God through prayer, meditation, and the study of His Word. By fostering a deeper relationship with God, men can cultivate a sense of peace that surpasses understanding, enabling them to navigate life’s challenges with confidence and resilience. Psalm 4 offers a profound invitation for men to find their strength, security, and peace in the loving embrace of their Heavenly Father.
In conclusion, Psalm 4 serves as a timeless guide for men, inviting them to embrace vulnerability, trust in God’s provision, and find solace in His presence. Through the honest lament of King David, men are encouraged to lay bare their struggles before God, knowing that He hears and cares for them deeply. This psalm challenges men to redefine strength not as self-reliance or worldly success, but as a humble dependence on the unfailing love and guidance of their Creator.
As men journey through life’s trials and triumphs, may Psalm 4 echo in their hearts as a source of courage and assurance. Let them take refuge in the promises of God, knowing that He is their rock and their redeemer. May they find peace in His presence, strength in His provision, and joy in His unfailing love. As men live out the principles of Psalm 4, may they inspire others to seek after God wholeheartedly, trusting in Him as their ultimate source of strength and security.
Take Heart
Been a crazy week, not bad, but filled, busy, stressful to say the least. You see my wife and I are trying to get ready for vacation, a blessed and much anticipated respite from work. If you have ever taken some time off, you understand what I mean by stressful. Meetings, completion of paperwork due while I’m away, tying up loose ends and then one last, unexpected pandemic issue. Talk about a chaotic time, but then I read these words offered by Jesus in the Gospel of John,
” And everything I’ve taught you is so that the peace which is in me will be in you and will give you great confidence as you rest in me. For in this unbelieving world, you will experience trouble and sorrow, but you must take heart for I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
Take heart, that is be encouraged I, [Jesus], have overcome the world. Reading these words, I realized that Jesus was about to be arrested, to be crucified, to die and be resurrected. Jesus was telling the disciples then and each of us as followers today, trouble is around, difficult times will find us. We may be confused or even overwhelmed. That knowing this it may be easier to pull back or turn away but rather we must be encouraged, that we are in relationship with One that is greater. That through our relationship with Jesus, in our acceptance of the Holy Spirit as our companion, God is present in our lives. Jesus says, take heart.
When this world feels as though it will wash over you, overwhelm you I encourage you to take heart, remembering your relationship with Jesus, remembering these things, that our pain is not wasted, that God can use the difficult season each of us experience and that we find peace knowing that Jesus has overcome, has conquered the world. Take heart in that.
Prayer: “Lord, I know that you are present in my life and when that vision waivers open my eyes wider, help me to reach a bit higher, make my ears more sensitive to your word, that I might be encouraged, that I take heart in the peace you offer. Hold me firmly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen”
Give It Up
“Bless the Lord! The God of our salvation supports us day after day!” Psalms 68:19
This selection is written from the experiences of David himself. Each of us know burdens, anxieties, and struggles, am I right? David, someone we say is chasing after God was no exception. He knew the worries and burdens and struggles of life. David was seen by his father and siblings as unimportant and neglected. Saul, the king persecuted him, and his own son betrayed him, so he knew what each of us experience in our lives, in sharing this lesson.
The first thing he does is divert our attention, reminding us of who is in our lives. He says, “Blessed be the Lord! God of our salvation…” Even when we are faced with questions about our future, worry about our family and/or our relationship, even when we may face anxieties about the world that surround us, we are to praise God, the Lord is our salvation, the one who will protect us, look out for us save us! The one, who as the scripture tells us will “…support us day after day!”
God is there next to us in every battle that we face, every struggle we encounter, with each fear that we have, but we must give them over to God. The Apostle Peter tells us, “Cast, throw all your cares, your worries, your burdens your anxieties onto the Lord because He cares about you.” (1 Peter 5:7 CEB)
You see for this to work, we must learn to trust that God is there, that God cares about us, that God is much more capable of dealing with our struggles and worries than any of us. When we begin to trust God turning over our burdens, with our worries, with our anxieties, we finally begin to realize the peace that comes from trusting and resting in the arms of God.
I encourage you to take a moment to lift up that which is laying heavily upon you. Give praise to the Lord. The God of our salvation is here to care for us, to support us and to carry the struggles, the burdens, and the worries in our life.
Prayer: “Lord, I trust that you are here. I give to you the things that I am struggling with and trust in you to carry that weight. Let me know the peace of your presence. Hold me firmly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen”
Witnesses
Have you ever thought “why am I the way I am” or, “why do I do or say things that way”? I suspect it is a question many of us have asked, I know I have, until I look back at my parents, my friends, the people who surround me and my experiences then it starts to make sense. You see, we are or maybe better said, we tend to reflect the people who surround us and the examples we see.
Think about the meals you prepare. Some are filled with nostalgic reflections of a moment in your childhood or in your life, aren’t they? Or, the funny sayings or the way you pronounce something, I suspect, if you go back into your youth, you will find someone offering the same phrase or twisting their tongue around a word in the same funny way that you do. Children follow their parents in service in the military, college selections and professions. We often do things because we have witnessed someone else do it before us, do it first.
We see witness to this in. John 4:19 which reads, “We ourselves love now because He, God, loved us first.”
We know love because we have witnessed God’s love all around us from our very first breath. In the creation that surrounds us from the streams of living water to the mountain’s majesty, the birds and flowers, the air that breath, the trees that offer shade. God’s love can be witnessed throughout creation.
(Enter midnight infomercial) But wait there’s more! We know God’s love through Jesus Christ, through the words that he taught, offering that the love of God and the love of neighbor are the two most vital commands we are to follow. Loving us to his death and beyond, overcoming death and sharing that victory with us, that those things that hold us to this world no longer hold their grip on us.
Finally, we witness love in the companion that God sent to be by our side in all things, in the Holy Spirit. That Spirit is God’s presence, next to us and within us that we may never be alone. In the darkest of valleys and in the highest of mountain peaks we know Emanuel, God with us, holding us and loving us where we are.
Consider this, we spend a lifetime seeking unconditional love, that we will never have to change, yet God loves us unconditionally and because of that we want to change. It is that very love that we have seen in all that surrounds us. It may have been parents or grandparents, teachers or coaches, friends or partners. So, now that you have been a witness to that unconditional, meet you where you are love I challenge you to find situations, to find opportunities, to find people around you to begin to share and teach that love to another, showing them not just who you are but whose you are.
Prayer: “Thank you Lord for the love you have shared with me in my life. As I have witnessed that love allow me now to share it to those I encounter. I pray that you hold me tightly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen”
Aren’t You One of His Children
“Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the self with its passions and desires.” Galatians 5:24
My family moved back to my father’s childhood community after he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. While he never shared this with me, I am sure he wanted us to be in the one place where he felt the comfort and love of community.
One Saturday, several years after he passed, I walked into the bank, I was picking up change for the business for whom I was working. The teller looked at me, looked away for a moment and then looked back and asked if I was Raymond’s boy. With a confused look I replied that I was. She smiled and said, “I thought so, you look just like the boy I knew.”
It’s kind of fun to hear that, to have someone tell you that you look like or talk like someone you love in your life. Imagine the power and the peace if we allowed ourselves to look like Jesus. The good news is, when we give up, when we destroy, when we crucify our old self. That self who gets angry, the one who experiences moments of hatred toward others, the one who thinks of self before neighbor, that one who is of this world. When we get rid of all of that, we can then begin to know that new life and that new image.
And it is possible through the power of the Holy Spirit, but we must be willing to submit to that transformative power. Offering words of kindness rather than anger, forgiving instead of holding a grudge. Removing all signs of hate and loving our neighbor.
When we begin to turn loose of these things, these attitudes, these emotions, we begin to take off the old life and start to put on new life, new opportunity and a new image, the image of Jesus Christ and who knows, you might have someone ask, “Aren’t you one of His children.”
Prayer: “God you are my Shepherd, offer me courage today to turn loose of the one that I am in this world and become the one that I am supposed to be in you. Hold me firmly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen”
Try to do good
Make sure no one repays a wrong with a wrong, but always pursue the good for each other and everyone else. 1 Thessalonians 5:16
What a profound but difficult concept by which to live, am I right? I mean, when someone does something we don’t like or that hurts us, our primal response is to lash out, to respond in a way that allows us to “be even”. Yet that’s not the message that the apostle Paul shares in this message.
Rather what Paul does is offer witness to the manner in which God responds to you and me, his children. He is offering the life of Jesus Christ. In life we are going to experience times where someone will hurt us, take from us, threaten us with their words and with their actions and as a follower of Christ we are called to love, to forgive, to simply remove ourselves from the situation by walking away.
I think about the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, where he was beaten, ridiculed, and mercilessly nailed to the cross, yet what are some of the last words attributed to Jesus, “Father, forgive them…” (Luke 23:34).
We each will face situations where people try to hurt us, to use us, abuse us, to make fun of us or undermine the hard work we have been doing. And, the truth is, it is going to be tempting to seek revenge or repay them with evil, “wrong for wrong”, but the God we serve does not operate like that. We are shown through Jesus that God is a God of mercy, of grace, of forgiveness and of love. As claimed followers of Jesus Christ we need to try and respond in the ways that we have been shown.
It’s not easy and most likely we are not going to be able to do this in every situation, but we should, no, we must try. Try to do good for each other. Try to forgive those who have hurt us. Try to pray for them. Try to love them. In this way not only will you be a reflection of whose you are, but you will begin to know the peace that only God can offer.
Prayer: “Lord, be with me always and in those times when someone does something to hurt me, help me to remove myself and to respond as you would, with mercy, with forgiveness and with love. Hold me firmly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen”
Stubborn McStubbornson
“For whoever wants to save his own life will destroy it, but whoever destroys his life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News will save it.” Mark 8:35
I believe that the message in this selection offers us both challenge and encouragement and hope. It challenges our very nature. Few of us want to rely on another in our lives, we will do most anything so that we do not give up control. Am I right?
I know for me, I find it difficult to ask for help, to not be in control of what is going on around me, to have a plan to deal with what ever might be going on in my life, and my son can be the same way. I remember when he was very young, he had a Thomas the Tank Engine and the wooden track it would go around on. One of the very first times we got the track out and he was trying to put something together, he didn’t want any help. When I offered, he got very frustrated and told me, “No daddy, I want to do it myself.” After continuing to struggle for some time trying to get the track to come together in a continuous “loop”, he came to me with a piece of track in each hand, lifted them up and asked for help.
That is the challenge, in our lives and in this world, we face constant struggles. We face circumstances we cannot handle on our own but yet because we are Stubborn McStubbornson we refuse to ask for help even though, and here is the encouragement and hope, God is waiting to step in, to intercede on our behalf, we simply must admit that we cannot do it, we cannot face it, we cannot handle it on our own. That we just cannot get our track to come together on our own. When we submit our lives to God, we begin to know the comfort of that presence, that even when we face difficult times, when our track just won’t quite line up, God is present there with us.
I would encourage you to take a look at what’s going on in your life in this moment and rather than shutting God out, ask that you know that presence. Bring those two pieces of track, holding them up, asking for help, and simply submit to the presence and power of God
Prayer: “Lord, I know you are there, you are present always, simply waiting to hear my call to you. Grant me the courage to submit my problems and my whole life to you. Hold me firmly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen”
Whenever I’m Afraid
As I sit in front of the screen and keyboard this morning, rain is falling along with some lightening and thunder, and I cannot help but think about my mom and her fear of thunderstorms.
Let me explain, Mom grew up in war time England, beginning in 1940 through the end of World War II, she would hear planes overhead, the weapons falling and the explosions, as she explained, all around her and her family. So, the crashing of a midwest thunderstorm would always put her on edge creating both anxiety and fear.
If we are honest with ourselves, worry, fear, anxiety or what ever the name you put on it is a part of each of our lives. It could be a fear of storms as mom experienced. We could be worried about the new school year, a new job or new experience. We could be anxious about the future of our relationships, the results of medical testing or our future. The thing is concerns are a part of our lives and that is ok.
David tells us as much in Psalm 56:3 which reads, “whenever I’m afraid, I put my trust in you”
Did you read that, David, the one whom God called and who was anointed to lead a nation? The David who faced and defeated a giant, said, “whenever I’m afraid”. He not only understood but experienced fear in his life, but he knew the faithfulness of God. David knew that even when he walked through difficult times, when he traveled through dark valleys he could trust God, because God was always present.
We can experience the same level of comfort and trust that David shares in this statement through the promise Jesus offered before ascending into heaven. Jesus promised to send a comforter, the Holy Spirit of God, to be with us through all experiences and situations.
Our trust can be built up by acknowledging that presence whenever we are afraid, with what a friend calls sentence prayers. Thinks like, “Thank you Lord for being with me right now.”, or “Thank you God that your Holy Spirit is right here next to me.” or one of my favorites “Thank you Father, for the way the Holy Spirit is fighting for me right now.”
As we begin to acknowledge the presence of God in our lives, in the difficulties, in the dark valleys our trust grows and in that we can find comfort. So today, as you feel your anxiety level inching up, fears beginning to get to you or your mind cannot stop worrying about the future, acknowledge God’s presence. Whenever you are afraid place your trust in God.
Prayer, “Almighty God, thank you for Your presence here with me. Thank you for the Holy Spirit and the ways You are moving in my life. Help me find comfort in knowing you are always near me. Hold me firmly and guide me gently in your will and in your ways. Amen