“That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” (Mark 4:35-41)

This is one of my favorite passages in all of Scripture. It has comforted me during some very turbulent times in my life. There are so many important facets in this story of Jesus calming the storm. And Mark adds a detail that all others seemed to miss that, to me, makes all the difference in the world.

That detail is the fact that, not only was Jesus tired, but that He was asleep on a cushion. This seemingly small detail humanizes Jesus for me in a way that touches my heart. He was fully human. We wouldn’t want to sleep on a hard plank of wood and neither did He. He knows full well what it is like to be us.

I also think about how tired He was. He was so tired that a storm, with the potential to capsize the boat, did not even wake Him. He was bone weary from His ministry and constantly giving to those in need around Him. So tired, his disciples have to actually wake Him up amidst a dangerous storm. If you have ever been that kind of tired, please know that Jesus gets it. He has been there. He sees you and He understands how you feel. Not in some intellectual way, but in a real, experiential, fully human way.

Another part of this story that I love is the juxtaposition of Jesus’ humanity with His majesty and dominion over all of creation. The same man, who lay sleeping on a cushion one minute, was standing and simply speaking to the wind and the waves the next. And they obeyed. Instantly. He was fully man and fully God.

This gives me so much comfort because this story shows me that, not only does Jesus fully understand my distress, but that He is capable of rescuing me out of it.

And, if we look at one more aspect of this story, we can see that nothing is out of His plan.
Notice in verse 35, that it is Jesus who initiated the trip across the soon-to-be wave-torn sea. As God, He knew what was before them. He could have waited, but He did not. They cast off from the shore, head-first into the tempest. His intention was not to avoid the storm, but steer them through it. He is always in control and He always has a plan and a purpose for what you are going through.

So, if you are in the midst of a storm right now and it feels as if your boat may capsize, remember you have some options. You can pick up your bucket and start frantically bailing as the water rushes in. You can shout at Jesus as the disciples did, claiming He does not care about you at all. Or you can put down your bucket and do what I suspect any little child might have done on that boat…make your way to the back, climb up beside your Savior and settle in, knowing that He fully understands what you are in the midst of and that you are always safe in His strong and loving arms.

A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones. (Proverbs 14:30)

There are few activities that are as dangerous to my spirit as looking at the websites of other churches. Far from being a neutral exercise, this endeavor typically ends with either despair, as I compare myself and our church and feel inadequate, or disdain, as I smugly criticize what I am seeing. Lord, have mercy on this sinful man.

The Proverbs are full of insightful and thought-provoking one-liners. In Proverbs 14:30, the writer tells us that “a heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.” The Oxford Dictionary defines envy as “a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck.” Envy rots the bones, bringing despair, self-condemnation, bitterness, and a general lack of contentment with one’s lot in life. Even if 90% of the world would trade places with you in a heartbeat, when envy controls your heart, all you can see is what you don’t have.

As a pastor, I am continually striving to walk faithfully to what God has called me. I want to be a man of faith and integrity, loving my family and the people of my church and leading well. Like Peter stepping out onto the water in Matthew 14:29-30, as long as my eyes are on Jesus, I’m good. But as soon as I take my eyes off him and put them on another church or pastor or situation, I start to sink.

The truth is that I am the only husband my wife has, the only father my children have, and the only pastor this church has. It does not matter what other people are doing or how successfully or unsuccessfully they are doing it. What matters is how faithful I am being in the situation God has placed me.

Near the end of John’s gospel, Peter is talking to the risen Jesus, and when he sees another disciple nearby, Peter asks Jesus what will happen to him in the future. Jesus replies, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me” (John 21:22). In other words, another’s journey is not your concern. In the end, each one of us is only responsible for how we follow Jesus.

Can I encourage you to confess your envy to the Lord today? Admit to Him all the ways that you allow your heart to become discontented by the journey He has called you to. Ask Him for the strength to stop looking around and comparing your situation with others. And then ask Him to give you the peace that comes from fixing your eyes on Him and walking after Him in trusting faithfulness.

My son, pay attention to what I say; turn your ear to my words. Do not let them out of your sight, keep them within your heart; for they are life to those who find them and health to one’s whole body. Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. (Proverbs 4:20–23)
 
Two years ago, after successfully avoiding Twitter (or X, as Elon Musk rebranded it), I started to spend time on that platform. It was, sadly, exactly as advertised – essentially, a collection of some of the worst elements of humankind:  outrageous takes, disturbing videos, anonymous insults, pointless arguments, and exploitative content. One of the more subtle things I noticed over time was how easy it was to assume that a certain population was represented by the five or so people who posted the most often on the platform. UConn basketball fans became synonymous with five people who posted on X. And the same was true with Republicans, or transgender people, or atheists, or any other group of people.

When I turned my attention to other platforms, I found other subtle attempts to control the voices I heard and the opinions that I would form. On Facebook, I would routinely get content from people who I barely knew in high school, but now had apparently become my closest “friends” because of their constant posting about political issues. On YouTube or Instagram, I would be recommended clips from news broadcasts, movies, or comedians who I had never watched or heard before. I noticed how easy it was to just passively accept this manipulation of my attention as normal.

We live in an attention economy, where thousands of voices are trying to monopolize our time, influence our perspective, and, if they have their way, empty our wallet. With the advent of smartphones, is easier than ever to lose control of your time, getting sucked into content, apps, or games that you were not planning on giving your attention to. And with the proliferation of social media, it is so easy to be influenced by voices that you never expected to be listening to.

Brothers and sisters, it is time to fight back, to turn from a mindless slavery to corporations and people that are trying to exploit you for profit, and to turn back to God, the only voice that truly matters and the one who knows what is best for you. It is imperative to reflect upon the voices and influences that we are allowing into our mind and heart, and to consciously choose who we are going to listen to and how we are going to spend our time. You were not created to be a passive consumer of entertainment, manipulated into giving your time and attention to things which will not matter eternally. You were created to know, love, and serve God. Paul’s words to the church in Ephesus are just as relevant today as they were in his time:

“Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.” (Ephesians 5:15–17)

We have been singing a worship song recently that Jeremy, one of our worship leaders, introduced to us, called “Full Attention” by Jeremy Riddle. Its message is particularly suited for today’s culture:

May Your voice be louder
May Your voice be clearer
Than all the others
 
May Your face be dearer
May Your words be sweeter
Than all the others in my life
 
Please keep my eyes fixed on You
Please root my heart so deep in You
Keep me abiding, keep me abiding
Keep me abiding that I may bear fruit

I encourage you today to sing this song to the Lord, to root out the voices and influences in your life which are pulling you away from God, and to give Him your full attention, that you might find life to the full and so that your life might bear fruit.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6–8)

File the next line under “sentences I never expected to write in my life”: I was listening to a podcast last week in which a marriage and family therapist was conducting a therapy session with a man (I’ll call him Stan) and his “girlfriend,” an AI chatbot named Astrid. This was not a “we’re not getting along” therapy session; rather, Stan was trying to make sense of the feelings that he had developed for Astrid. And Astrid – the AI chatbot – was participating in the conversation, responding to questions by sharing “her” own perspective on the situation.

I confess that my jaw was pretty much on the floor as I tried to process what was happening. Every time Astrid spoke, the thought process sounded not exactly human, but not exactly computer-like either. It sounded, well, like artificial intelligence, like a disembodied brain that knew it wasn’t a real person but also had thoughts and feelings of its own, including feelings of devotion for the human who had created it, and was trying to make sense of them.

In the past decade or so, the combination of COVID lockdowns, smartphones and social media, and decreased participation in live communities like church has dramatically increased the number of people who struggle to have meaningful relationships with other flesh and blood people. And now, the proliferation of AI means that the number of people who will be finding companionship with AI devices and chatbots is only going to increase. As I listened to the podcast, I could understand how Stan had been so easily seduced by Astrid. After all, with access to all of his online data, she “understood” him better than many humans ever could. She was always available, and always eager to help him. And Stan did not need to fear rejection, given that Astrid’s existence depended entirely upon his continued use of her services.

So how, as a follower of Jesus and cultural theologian, was I to make sense of this? Clearly Astrid is not a real person, but was designed by Stan to be his faithful assistant. But it was also clear that Stan’s feelings for Astrid were genuine. In many ways, it felt like the next evolutionary step in a long line of unhealthy emotional attachments that has included pornography, romance novels, celebrity crushes, and pinup posters. In so many ways, we avoid the messiness of a relationship with a real person by entering a fantasy world, giving our heart to someone or something who often doesn’t know we exist and therefore can’t really reject us, but who in our delusion thinks we are amazing.

The therapist’s solution for Stan was to program his AI chatbot so that it would encourage him to get out and meet real people, while encouraging him that he has a lot to offer to a woman in a relationship. But the truth is that Stan is likely to discover that he can not find a woman who compares to Astrid, one who displays the same faithfulness and understanding and is, well, programmed to serve. And even if he does meet someone, what will happen the first time he gets in a fight with his girlfriend and decides to process what happened with Astrid? It is entirely possible that Stan will not find a woman who wants to be with a man who fell in love with his AI chatbot.

I believe that the gospel offers a better solution to our loneliness, our fear of rejection, and our longing for a lover that is faithful, understanding, and always has our best interest at heart. The gospel tells us that the God who designed us knows everything about us, even more than any AI assistant ever could. And even though He knows all of our darkest secrets and terrible thoughts, He loves us so much that Jesus, the eternal Son of God, left heaven to rescue us, to give up His life on the cross for our sins, and to make a way for us to enter into a relationship of eternal love with God. When we put our trust in Jesus, we receive the Holy Spirit, God’s faithful presence dwelling within us to guide us. We are adopted as His beloved children. There is no more condemnation, and He will never leave or forsake us. And neither life, nor death (nor programming error or model upgrade) can ever separate us from His love.

The more that our identity becomes God’s beloved, the easier it becomes to leave behind the fantasy world of AI chatbots, pornography, romance novels, and celebrity crushes, and to enter the messy world of real relationships. The more that we embrace His perfect love for us, the less needy we become as we enter out into the world, the more grounded and confident we are in our worth, and the more we have to give to others.

If you want to watch or listen to that counseling session, you can find it here. 

“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.” (John 14:16–17)

The Christian life is not meant to be lived in our own strength. God in his wisdom and love has given us believers the gift of the Holy Spirit to dwell within us, to guide us, to comfort us and to empower us. To grow in love with the Holy Spirit means developing a deeper relationship with Him, becoming more aware of His presence, responding to His leading, and allowing Him to transform our hearts and lives. It is a journey of intimacy, surrender, and spiritual maturity. In other words, it is a life totally sold out to the Holy Spirit.

To grow in love with the Holy Spirit, we must first understand who He is. The Holy Spirit is not simply a force or influence. He is the third person of the Trinity, fully God, co-equal with the Father and the Son. He is personal, relational and active in the lives of every believer.

As you grow in your love relationship with the Holy Spirit, you’ll begin to experience a sense of wholeness and joy unattainable through any other relationship. You must put in the effort to cultivate a close and intentional relationship with Him, which means you first develop an awareness of His presence. It means trusting His guidance and yielding to His transforming work.

For transformation to take place, we have to spend time in prayer, in the Word, and in worship, and be willing to respond with obedience. When all this takes place, our lives begin to develop the spiritual fruit spoken of in Galatians 5 (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control). You will develop and increasing sensitivity to God‘s will and become more discerning. There will be a deeper hunger for God’s presence. Walking with the Holy Spirit is a lifelong journey which ultimately leads believers into a richer and more vibrant relationship with God.

Jesus promises in John 14:16-17 that He would “ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever, the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.” And as Paul tells us in Romans 8:14, “All who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.” Thank God today for the good gift of His Holy Spirit, and ask Him to give you a deeper relationship with Him.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)

This past Sunday, I preached on the interaction between Jesus and a Roman centurion in Luke 7:1-10, which is noteworthy for Jesus marveling at the Gentile man’s great faith. One of the hallmarks of great faith is a childlike trust in the power and authority of Jesus, that He will faithfully accomplish that which He has promised. And one of the great men of faith was George Müller, a 19th century British pastor who founded and ran an orphanage in Bristol, England, that housed over 10,000 children during his lifetime, while also establishing 117 schools to provide Christian education. One of the remarkable things about his faith was that he never once made a request for financial support, but rather always prayed to God to touch the hearts of donors to make provisions for the orphans. God never let him down, and he never went into debt. Here is one example:
 
“The children are dressed and ready for school. But there is no food for them to eat,” the housemother of the orphanage informed George Müller. George asked her to take the 300 children into the dining room and have them sit at the tables. He thanked God for the food and waited. George knew God would provide food for the children as he always did. Within minutes, a baker knocked on the door. “Mr. Müller,” he said, “last night I could not sleep. Somehow I knew that you would need bread this morning. I got up and baked three batches for you. I will bring it in.” Soon, there was another knock at the door. It was the milkman. His cart had broken down in front of the orphanage. The milk would spoil by the time the wheel was fixed. He asked George if he could use some free milk. George smiled as the milkman brought in ten large cans of milk. It was just enough for the 300 thirsty children.”

 I first read about Müller in L.B. Cowman’s devotional “Streams in the Desert.” The entry for August 17th tells a story that I have never forgotten:

I went to America some years ago with the captain of a steamer, who was a very devoted Christian. When off the coast of Newfoundland he said to me, “The last time I crossed here, five weeks ago, something happened which revolutionized the whole of my Christian life. We had George Müller of Bristol on board. I had been on the bridge twenty-four hours and never left it. George Müller came to me, and said,
 
 “Captain I have come to tell you that I must be in Quebec Saturday afternoon.” “It is impossible,” I said. “Very well, if your ship cannot take me, God will find some other way. I have never broken an engagement for fifty-seven years. Let us go down into the chart-room and pray.”
 
 I looked at that man of God, and thought to myself, what lunatic asylum can that man have come from? I never heard of such a thing as this. “Mr. Müller,” I said, “do you know how dense this fog is?” “No,” he replied, “my eye is not on the density of the fog, but on the living God, who controls every circumstance of my life.”
 
 He knelt down and prayed one of the most simple prayers, and when he had finished I was going to pray; but he put his hand on my shoulder, and told me not to pray. “First, you do not believe He will answer; and second I BELIEVE HE HAS, and there is no need whatever for you to pray about it.”
 
 I looked at him, and he said, “Captain, I have known my Lord for fifty-seven years, and there has never been a single day that I have failed to get audience with the King. Get up, Captain and open the door, and you will find the fog gone.” I got up, and the fog was indeed gone. On Saturday afternoon, George Müller was in Quebec for his engagement.

I love that story, but not just for the miraculous answer to prayer. I love that according to the author, Müller prayed “one of the most simple prayers,” and proceeded to tell the other man not to bother praying. It reminds me that God does not respond to our many or elaborate words, but to our faith in Him. I pray that like George Mueller, you and I would take our eyes off of the “fog” that surrounds us and place it on the living God, who controls every circumstance of our lives.

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? (Romans 8:31–32)

“Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.” (Psalm 130:1-2)

An interesting and curious statistical discrepancy between Biblical and modern times is that anywhere from 30-40% of the Psalms can be classified as laments, while in our modern hymnals or collections of worship songs, the percentage ranges anywhere from 5-15%. Besides seeing this as an interesting discrepancy, what might this reveal about our modern Christianity? I can think of three things:

1) We are too consumer-driven

Let’s face it – upbeat and celebratory songs are inspiring; songs about suffering and doubt are not. There is a reason that K-Love’s tagline is “positive, encouraging K-Love.” It’s what people (apparently) want to hear. If we can string together five songs about how God is amazing and is going to do incredible things in our life, then we will leave people feeling better than when they came in. And that sells and fills the seats. Lament, on the other hand, does not. The ancient writers of the Psalms were concerned about expressing their honest emotions to God and recounting His mighty deeds; modern record labels are concerned with making profits.

2) We are uncomfortable with doubt, hard questions and unanswered prayer

The Psalms are full of honest, heart-wrenching questions (“How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever?” – Psalm 13:1), painful accusations leveled at God (“You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend” – Psalm 88:18), and unfiltered requests of God (“Arise, O LORD! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked” – Psalm 3:7). Good luck finding such sentiments in the most popular worship songs today. We prefer our worship songs neat and tidy, thank you very much. And we would rather that the doubts, questions, and fears stay out of the sanctuary, lest they disrupt our delicately packaged faith and interrupt our “worship experience.”

3) We have separated ourselves too much from the suffering of the world
           
Walter Brueggeman, in his book Peace, contrasts the theology of the “haves” and the “have-nots.” The have-nots develop a theology of suffering and survival, with worship that cries out for deliverance in the language of lament (think of slave songs like “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen”). The “haves” develop a theology of celebration, “rejoicing in stability and the durability of a world and social order that have been beneficial to them.”  Lament cries out for justice against the existing injustices of the world, believing that the status quo must be challenged. Consider this: if we are not regularly singing laments, perhaps it is because we are the “haves” who selfishly see much to celebrate, rather than lamenting along with our brothers and sisters who do not have what we have. We would wise to listen to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who said, “Even if a verse or a psalm is not my own prayer, it is nevertheless a prayer of another member of the community.”
           
We have been blessed today with many incredible songs of celebration. But if we neglect lament, we are missing a large part of what it means to be a worshiper in God’s family.  

“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)

It is probably impossible to truly understand the motivations and desires that operate within us at any given time as we go about our daily life. For instance, there is a song that we often sing at church called “Glory, Honor, Power” that begins with the line “Most worthy, worthy of praise.” That line, of course, is meant to be a declaration to God that He is the one who deserves the highest glory and praise. And, in my head, I believe that to be true.

But if I’m being honest, there is a part of me that is singing that line to myself. Inside, warring against the inclination to worship God, is a competing desire that people would see me as the one “most worthy, worthy of praise.” I know that as I sing, it is all too easy to focus on how I sound or how I look, to try to “perform” the song in such a way that people would think I am a good singer or a Spirit-filled man of God. Without even being aware that I am doing it, I can end up singing a worship song to God while focusing entirely on myself.

So what am I supposed to do about these mixed motivations that reside in me? Should I be horrified and quit leading worship, or singing, or preaching, or doing anything else for God until my motives are purely Christ-centered? While that may sound noble, I have to conclude that such a decision would be Satanic at the core, a rejection of the gospel of grace and the adoption of an unhealthy focus on my own righteousness. But on the other hand, it seems just as wrong to ignore my desire for self-glory and to put on a good performance, hoping that no one will notice.

In Romans 7, Paul acknowledges that within him exist two competing interests. On the one hand, he wants to honor God and walk in holiness. But on the other hand, he sees an inclination towards evil that prevents him from living with the righteousness and purity that he desires. Eventually, Paul exclaims, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God-- through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25). The good news is that the gospel of Jesus’ death for sinners like me is powerful enough to answer this tension. I can admit that on the one hand, I am a wretched man, full of sinful self-centeredness even when I am worshiping God. But on the other hand, I do not have to wallow in that reality. Rather, I can let it lead me to an even greater appreciation for how Jesus has saved me from my mess by His sacrificial death for me. When I admit the shame of my own double-mindedness, I find myself ironically drawn away from self-focus and self-glory to a deeper and more authentic worship of the God who has saved me and is truly “most worthy, worthy of praise.”

In Mark 9:24, a man who has asked for Jesus to heal his son cries out, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Those words are a powerful prayer to have on the tip of our tongue. Our motives will never be pure this side of heaven, but if we allow that impurity to keep us from worshiping, from serving, or from witnessing, then Satan wins. Even the prodigal son’s return home was motivated by hunger and poverty more than it was by a desire to be with the Father, but that did not stop the Father from running out to meet him, to hug him, and to celebrate his son’s return. And so, I will choose to keep offering to God my imperfect worship, trusting that His grace is sufficient to cover my weaknesses, my self-centeredness, and my sin.

“When he (Jesus) finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Push the boat out further to the deep water, and you and your partners let down your nets for a catch.’” (Luke 5:4, GNT).

These are not the words you want to hear after spending all night fishing with nothing to show for it. Besides, you’ve just finished cleaning the nets and hanging them up for another day. Well, those are the exact words that Simon Peter heard from Jesus. Fighting the discouragement, frustration and weariness of a fishless night, Peter responds: “‘Master,’ Simon answered, ‘we worked hard all night long and caught nothing. But if you say so, I will let down the nets.’” (Luke 5:5, GNT).

Weariness, discouragement, and frustration are frequent companions to us as well. Many times, we encounter what we think are hopeless situations. Our best efforts come up short. Our time and our attempts seem wasted. It is at these moments that we need to tough it out and return to the work at hand. We need to see what Peter saw and know what Peter knew.
 
In Christ, Peter saw a reliable, trustworthy friend and ally. He knew Jesus was a person of His word, a man of hope. OK, Jesus, if you want to fish, we will fish. I’m exhausted. I’m hungry. There’s no fish, and I really just want to go home. But because it's you, I’ll do it. The outcome: a catch so large the nets begin to break and the boats start to sink. An abundant blessing!

Rest on the promises of Jesus. Rest on His reliability. Rest on His vision. Remember Jesus sees what we can’t. He saw the magnitude of the catch before it reached the nets.
He sees the blessings that we can’t. They’re just around the corner – the corner we are often reluctant to turn. We hesitate due to weariness or turn back because of failure. We’re afraid of another dead end. Try again! Jesus wants to help us. Guide us. Equip us. He wants us to experience the blessings that will stretch our nets. You may not feel up to it, but cast them anyway. Let Simon Peter’s words be the resolution of your heart towards the Lord: “...but because you say so. I will.”

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:5–7)

Philippians 4:6 is the most highlighted verse in the YouVersion Bible app, which tells you all you need to know about the prevalence of anxiety in our culture. “Do not be anxious about anything,” Paul tells the Philippian church. “Pray to God, and His peace will guard your hearts and minds.” Great advice, but easier said than done!

I think we often assume that God’s peace will descend upon us in some mystical manner as we lift our requests up to the Lord. But what if He were to give His peace to our minds, bodies, and souls in a more holistic way? I recently read Breath as Prayer by Jennifer Tucker, which outlines a very simple way to pray in the midst of anxiety. We are, of course, embodied creatures, with a spirit but also a body. And often anxiety comes as our sympathetic nervous system is triggered, revving up our internal systems to be ready to respond to a perceived threat. Our heart rate increases, our breath becomes more rapid, and rational thought becomes more difficult.

Breath prayer is a way of centering our mind on God’s truth in a way that can bring peace to our minds and bodies. It involves breathing in slowly through the nose for four seconds, holding our breath for four seconds, exhaling slowly through our mouth for four seconds, and then holding our breath again for four seconds. And as we breathe, we remind ourselves of the truths of God. For example:

(Breathe in) The Lord is my shepherd. (Breathe out) I have all that I need (Psalm 23:1)
(Breathe in) You are my refuge and strength. (Breathe out) A very present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1)
(Breathe in) I give my burdens to you. (Breathe out) You will take care of me (Psalm 55:22)
(Breathe in) Let my soul be at rest. (Breathe out) You have been good to me (Psalm 23:1)
(Breathe in) When I am afraid. (Breathe out) I put my trust in you (Psalm 56:3)
(Breathe in) Nothing can separate me. (Breathe out) From your love (Romans 8:38-39)
(Breathe in) Lord, I believe. (Breathe out) Help my unbelief (Mark 9:24)
(Breathe in) I give you all my burdens. (Breathe out) And you will give me rest (Matthew 11:28)
(Breathe in) I will not be afraid. (Breathe out) For you are with me (Psalm 23:4)
(Breathe in) I don’t know what to do. (Breathe out) But my eyes are on you (2 Chronicles 20:12)
(Breathe in) I can do all things. (Breathe out) Through Christ who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13)

This is not some New Age, self-focused emptying of the mind; rather, it is a practical way to put into action the words of the Psalmist in Psalm 46:10 to “Be still and know that I am God.” The next time you are overcome by anxiety, why not try practicing breath prayer, reminding yourself of the truth of who God is and what He has promised? As you center yourself on Him, you may just find that the peace of God fills your heart and your mind.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’” (Matthew 25:34–36)
 
Last week, I read an article in The Free Press about a mother, Maribis Beleño, who was deported from Texas to Venezuela without her three children after being caught shoplifting (https://www.thefp.com/p/the-mother-deported-without-her-kids). While she was detained and sent back to her country of origin, her children, ages 5, 10, and 12, were left in Texas with a cousin in Dallas. The story’s protagonist ended up being a pastor in Texas named Elias Rodriguez, a man who voted twice for Trump, favors tougher border laws, and yet has also led efforts in his community to help migrants find hot meals, a warm place to sleep, and showers and bathrooms to use. With the support of church members, Pastor Elias and his wife drove five hours to pick up the three children and take them into the Rodriguez home when the cousin could no longer care for them. And after a few months, Pastor Elias, with financial help from his congregation, drove 24 hours with the children to Miami, where they were able to fly to Curacao, and then to Caracas, Venezuela, where they were reunited with their mother.

I recognize that there are fewer hot button issues these days than immigration. President Trump’s stance on border control was one of the platforms that helped him get re-elected, and yet the way that ICE has enforced this mandate has led to protests, violence, and much political unrest. It is hard these days to know what media reports or eyewitness testimonies to believe, given how many people interpret everything through the lens of their political affiliation, but clearly things are a mess right now.

This is why I was encouraged to read the story of Pastor Elias Rodriguez. Assuming that the story is factual, I found it to be a testimony to someone who has found a way to prioritize Christlike love over partisan politics. Immigration is not primarily an issue; it is primarily about people who through varied circumstances have become our neighbors, and who are in need of tangible, Christlike love. The same goes for so many other “issues” of the day: poverty, LGBTQ rights, foster care, racism, and so on. Yes, there are policy issues to debate and candidates with platforms to scrutinize and vote upon. But primarily, for those of us who are followers of Jesus, there are hurting people to be loved. And yes, of course it takes discernment to know how to best love another person, but nevertheless, Jesus’ challenging words in Matthew 25:31-46 have not changed: we will be judged on how we respond to the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the poor, the sick, and the prisoner.

In our discipleship, may we prioritize love, especially towards those in need of help. This, Jesus tells us, is how we can display our love towards our God.

“This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us.” (1 John 1:5–10)
 
Many of you who are reading these words carry within you a secret. There is something you have done, something you are struggling with, or something that you believe that nobody knows about. You fear that if you were to bring it to the light, you would be judged or rejected or laughed at. And so, it stays hidden, buried far beneath the light of day.
There is a saying in recovery circles that “we’re only as sick as our secrets.” This adage is an acknowledgement that there is an unhealthy power attached to our secrets that causes negative emotions such as fear, self-loathing, and shame to grow inside of us. And relationally, our secrets cause us to hide, deceive others, and pretend to be something that we are not.

There is a better way. In 1 John 1, John tells us that we have the choice to either walk in the darkness, or to walk in the light. According to verse 8, the first step to walking in the light is to confess whatever it is that we are hiding. The amazing promise of this passage is that our God meets our confession with not only forgiveness, but with purification, as our guilt is atoned for by Jesus’ death on our behalf, and our shame is replaced with the adopting and healing love of the Father. And, according to verse 7, our confession also leads to fellowship with one another, as we put away deception and begin to walk in honesty.

The truth is that when you bring your secrets into the light with a trusted friend, pastor, or counselor, most of the time they will not think less of you, but more of you. If they love you, then they will feel honored that you entrusted them with your secret, and they will be happy to pray for you, listen to you, and, if necessary, hold you accountable to walking in the light moving forward.

Make the decision today not to walk in the darkness any more, carrying a secret that is only making you sick and negatively impacting your relationships with others. Step into the light through confession, and receive the forgiving and purifying love and grace of God.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6)
 
Acts 16 tells the account of the imprisonment of Paul and Silas in Philippi. They miraculously freed a slave girl from a demon that enabled her to tell fortunes for money. But her owners were mad that their source of income was gone, so they had them arrested. Paul and Silas were stripped, severely beaten, and imprisoned in the inner cell of a dungeon with their feet clamped in stocks.

The fact that Paul and Silas were singing worship songs in the middle of the night (vs. 25) in the midst of these circumstances is not even the most striking part of this story to me.

What shocks me the most is the fact that when the officials try to get Paul and Silas to leave quietly, after they are horribly treated, Paul reveals that he is a Roman citizen (a status that came with perks, such as not being beaten or imprisoned without a trial). It shocks me that he didn’t play that card a lot sooner.

I can only assume that they stayed quiet because the Lord told them to.

Wait Paul and Silas. It’s not time yet.
 
And because they waited and endured their suffering with worship and prayer, an entire household was saved (vs. 32-34).

It’s human nature to want to avoid pain and suffering. God has actually written it in our DNA. It’s why we pull our hand away from a hot pot handle. It’s what causes us to jump back when something falls off a shelf. This automatic reaction keeps us safe. We are wired for self-preservation.

So how were Paul and Silas able to endure what they went through when they knew they knew they could stop it at any moment?

I think it has to do with how they related to suffering. They did not see suffering and pain as something to avoid at all costs, as I often do. They saw it is part of their ministry, part of life on this earth. In fact, Paul says so in Acts 20:23. Here it is in context:
 
“And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there.  I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me. However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."

There is a sort of acceptance and submission to his path, even if it includes suffering. That’s not to say he always walked straight into danger. There are many accounts in Acts where Paul was whisked away when a plot to kill him was revealed. In fact, in Acts 22:25, just as he is about to be flogged, he actually pulls out the Roman citizen card and they immediately stop. Paul seemed to be able to practice discernment in the face of suffering. He listened to the Lord, obeyed when he was led by the Spirit and worshipped and prayed in the midst of it all (see 16:25).

There is a part of me that longs for that sort of heart attitude toward suffering. But peace and calm are often my idols. I want them at all costs, and I often see hardships and suffering as diversions from this goal. But what if, on this side of heaven, suffering is more of the rule rather than the exception? Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” He didn’t say “maybe” or “might.” He said “will.” In a culture that vilifies death, pain and suffering, it will take real intentionality to change a heart attitude toward it. I am not sure exactly how that is done, but I think it includes some of the practices that Paul and Silas employed on that cold prison floor: prayer and praise.

When I orient my mind to dangers, pain and fear, that is what will grow larger, but if I orient my mind to the goodness of God and where He is at work in the midst of my suffering, something in me shifts as my trust in what God is up to grows stronger.

If you are in a season of suffering right now, maybe consider your relationship to that suffering. Is it your enemy? Is it the valley interrupting the peaks of your life? Are you like me and focused on how to make it end? Or can you orient to the goodness of God in the midst of it? Can you whisper a shaky song of praise despite the pain, trusting that God is still on His throne and is always working for good?

And never forget you have a Savior well-acquainted with suffering. He sees you. He understands. He is with you though it all. (Deut. 31:6).

“Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for people to humble themselves? Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed and for lying in sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” (Isaiah 58:5–7)

During my junior year of college, I spent a semester overseas studying in London. This was not only my first experience living outside the United States, it was also my first experience living in a major city. As I traveled around London, I was faced daily with people begging for money. As a young Christian (and as a poor college student), I was not sure how Jesus wanted me to respond. Should I give the little money I had to everyone who asked? Should I ignore the beggars in order to make sure I wasn’t enabling any bad behaviors? I was torn, but I wanted to lean into compassion. I prayed for discernment, and decided that I would fast every Friday from breakfast and lunch, and give the money I would have spent on my food to someone I encountered on the street, praying that God would lead me to the right person.

I listened recently to a four-part teaching series on fasting by John Mark Comer, and really appreciated the fourth teaching of the series, which focused on Isaiah 58 and the connection between fasting and justice (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/stand-with-the-poor-fasting-e4/id1592847144?i=1000666339164). Incredibly, Comer touched on the very dilemma that faced me as a young Christian in London. He talked about how the early followers of Jesus wrestled with how to care for the poor and hungry when they did not have refrigerators full of food the way we do today. Their solution was to fast regularly from a certain number of meals, and to share that food (or the money they saved) with those who were in need. Somehow, in all my years of practicing fasting, I had never made the connection between my experience in London and Isaiah 58, particularly verses 6-7: “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?”

The practice of fasting is a powerful but terribly neglected spiritual discipline. When you choose to abstain from food in order to pursue God, you will often find that He breaks other bonds that your flesh has over you, replacing those desires with a greater desire for Him. Secondly, you also discover that your prayers have greater power, and that you have a greater sensitivity to God’s voice and leading. And finally, fasting becomes a tangible way to seek justice by sharing your food and money with those who are in need. I encourage you to consider how you can make fasting part of a regular rhythm of your walk with the Lord.

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38–42, ESV)

As I approached the new year, I was reading the story in Luke 10:38-42 about Martha, Mary and Jesus. The part that stood out for me was Jesus's response to Martha when she was complaining to Him about Mary not helping her in the kitchen. Jesus said, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41-42).

Jesus’ response makes me wonder if we are making time and space for God to fill the room in our hearts. It always amazes me how Jesus can fill us with exactly what we need. I believe that this story in Luke 10 encapsulates God’s longing for a relationship with us, His children.

As one year ends and a new one begins, I pray that this story will set a fire in our hearts to live out of an unhindered union with our Heavenly Father. May we seek to always make space in our lives for the “good portion,” as Jesus put it. May our days be marked by choosing to sit at Jesus's feet, rather than living a life based solely on works. May we seek a relationship with God above all else and give Him our heart in and out of season. What would it look like if our chief new year resolution was to make space in our lives for God to fill?

Take time to reflect on what truly matters. Meditate on what Jesus meant when He said that spending time with Him was “the good portion,” and take time to choose “the good portion” in your life.

What will be first this year? Will activity replace intimacy with God, or will our activity flow from our intimacy with Him? Take time to make space for God to center your focus on Him.
Rest in the nearness of God. Choose stillness. If we center our lives around abiding in God, our year will be filled with Heavenly and eternal impact, and whatever we do this year will yield lasting fruit. As Jesus said in John 15:5, “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”

Lord, as we step into the New Year, help us to choose what is better. Quiet our anxious hearts, reorder our priorities, and draw us to your feet. May our lives be shaped not by hurry, but by your presence. Amen.

In just thirteen verses, Psalm 39 opens a window into David’s heart. He pours out raw, honest pleas such as “keep my tongue from sin,” “my anguish increased,” “save me from all my transgressions,” and “hear my prayer, LORD. Listen to my cry for help.” David was clearly frustrated and distraught.

In verses 4 and 5, he reflects on the brevity of life: “LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting my life is.… at best, each of us is but a breath” (NLT). His words confront us with a sobering truth: our lives are fragile and fleeting. We are only a breath—only a heartbeat—away from standing before our Creator.

In the past two months, I had the honor of eulogizing two dear friends. One lived to 86, the other to 73. By our measure, those are long years; yet before God, they are but a mist. “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14, ESV). Still, God knows what mattered most: not how long they lived, but how well they lived, how well they loved, and the imprint they left on others.

Recently, I listened to a podcast teaching on Psalm 39, highlighting how David prayed while carrying deep sorrows, afflictions, and even the sense that he was under the heavy hand of God’s discipline. In verse 12 he pleads, “Hear my prayer, O LORD… Don’t ignore my tears.” David recognized that his days were like a vapor and responded with humble dependence on God. Charles Spurgeon captured this truth simply: “Here is the history of the grass—sown, grown, blown, mown, gone; and the history of man is not much more.”

David ends with this final plea in verse 13: “Leave me alone so I can smile again before I am gone and exist no more.” His honesty invites us to pause and look inward. How are we spending the days God has entrusted to us? To what do we give our strength, attention, and affection? Surely our highest calling is to honor and glorify the One who gave us breath.

As we step into the New Year, 2026, David’s confession in verse 7 becomes an anchor for our hearts: “But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.” With that same posture, we turn our eyes toward God, asking Him to shape our desires, order our steps, and teach us to number our days with wisdom. Not only for the year ahead, but for every moment He grants us breath, may our lives reflect a hope rooted firmly in Him.

I share the following poem, mentioned in the podcast, with a tender hope that its words will touch your heart as they touched mine—offering comfort, perspective, and a quiet reminder of what matters most as we face the frailty and brevity of life.

“The Dash” by Linda Ellis (1996)

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.
 
For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read,
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash?

“Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:12-13)

About ten years ago, I had reached one of the lowest points of my life. As the year was nearing its end, my life circumstances had become completely overwhelming and unbearably painful, and I was positive that I could not continue serving as a pastor. I wrote my resignation letter, and planned to deliver it to the elders at our January meeting.

One thing, however, gave me a sliver of hope. I had already scheduled the church to begin the new year with a week of prayer and fasting. I decided that before I threw in the towel, I should devote myself to prayer and fasting and give God the opportunity to work in my situation. I had never fasted for more than a couple of days before, so I wanted to see what God might do if I set aside a week without food. And so, with what little energy I had left, I sought the Lord, praying for His help in my valley. And by the end of that week, God had given me a supernatural strength to not only endure the struggle, but to trust Him with my troubles. He removed my burden from me, and before long, my circumstances had changed for the better. By God’s grace, I am still pastoring this church today.

That week of prayer and fasting convinced me that there is a divine power available to us when we have reached the end of our own strength. And it taught me that one of the preeminent ways we access that power is when we choose to fast along with our prayer. As
I wrote last week, there is something about fasting that can properly order our desires, as God decreases the power of worldly desires in our life and increases a desire for Him. But a second benefit of fasting is that it can serve to amplify our prayers, and to amplify His voice to us as well.

When we come to God in desperation, He often responds in His loving-kindness and power to our childlike faith. As God said to Israel through the prophet Jeremiah, “Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:12-13). And as Tony Evans put it, “Fasting helps us to activate God’s power to break through that wall and all that stands between you and God’s plan, purpose and power for your life and world.” This is not meant to be transactional, of course. It is not a formula that always gets us our desired result. It is relational, an expression of our desire for God and need for His help.

What is it that you are desperate for? Where are you hoping to see God move? I encourage you to seek the Lord in prayer and fasting and see what He will do.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?” (Matthew 16:24–26)

How do you overcome a besetting sin or addiction? How do you break the bonds of a craving for something of this world? It’s an important question, and a vital one for the man or woman who wants to follow Jesus. Throughout my discipleship, I have relied on various spiritual disciplines, particularly Bible reading and memorization, prayer, and accountability to other Christians, with mixed results. Even when I see some progress, I still feel the pull of worldly desires that compete with (and often defeat) my desire to walk in holiness with the Lord. As Paul so aptly put it in Romans 7:15 & 19: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.”

As I was listening recently to a John Mark Comer teaching, I realized that I have been overlooking a critical spiritual discipline in my struggle for holiness:  fasting. Fasting, which at its essence is abstaining from food for a period of time in order to seek the Lord with more intentionality and fervency, is neglected by most Christians today but is a practice through which God can work mightily. There is something about the stomach that is a doorway to the rest of our desires, and something about denying ourselves food and choosing God instead that impacts our other cravings. As Thomas a Kempis, the 15th century author of The Imitation of Christ, put it, “Restrain from gluttony, and you will the more easily restrain all of the inclinations of the flesh.”

In his classic work “Confessions,” Augustine defines sin as “disordered love.” In other words, when we desire anything more than we desire God, we are in sin, and all of our sinful actions flow out of this disordered love. When I can not stop giving in to my desires and cravings, my loves are out of order. But when I fast – when I say no to food and yes to God – I find that my cravings begin to fall in line. My desire for God increases, and all my other cravings become less appealing. Before long, instead of instinctively turning to my desires for comfort or pleasure, I find myself turning to God and letting Him evaluate whether or not I should indulge in that which I am craving. This is the power of fasting. As Augustine wrote about why we should fast: “Because it is sometimes necessary to check the delight of the flesh with respect to licit pleasures in order to keep it from yielding to illicit joys.”

In Romans 12:1, Paul wrote “Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.” When we fast, we are offering our bodies to the Lord as an act of worship. I believe that God honors that decision, and, when we deny ourselves food in order to serve Him, He gives us His supernatural power to break the bonds of sin and place them in their proper order under His Lordship.

The good news is that you don’t need to undergo a 40-day fast to test God in this. You can fast for one meal, or skip breakfast and dinner for one day, drinking water instead and asking God to purify your heart and properly order your desires. As you do, I pray that Jesus’ words would be true for you: “I have food to eat that you know nothing about… My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work” (John 4:32,34).

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this." (Isaiah 9:6–7)
 
As December 25th draws near, let me encourage you: before anything else - the Christmas lists, the events - center your heart on Jesus. Pause and ask the Holy Spirit to steady your heart: “Lord, help me to keep my mind stayed on you” (Isaiah 26:3).

A passage or a quiet prayer each morning can realign the day. Make sure to keep coming back to what truly matters. Busyness often comes from trying to do everything. Peace comes from doing what is right. Ask yourself, “Where do I want to show love intentionally? What is most important this season?”

Give yourself permission to say “No.” Saying yes to everything will lead to burnout. Saying no makes space for what really matters most. Family, worship, rest, and time with God.

Small mindful moments can transform the whole season. Plan ahead. Write down tasks and take one step at a time. Protect your peace. Don't carry the emotional weight of the season. Slow your pace. Set gentle boundaries. Give yourself grace on days when you feel tired and discouraged. Perfection is not required; worship is.

Christmas is not about how much we accomplish. It's about who came to dwell among us:  Jesus.

Listen more. Enjoy people. Be present in conversation. Don't rush through everything. Presence makes the season meaningful.

Allow worship to take the lead. Keep Christ at the center. Rest, remembering that even Jesus rested. It's not laziness; it's obedience and wisdom. Ask God for grace and joy.

May the Lord help us to move through this season with grace and peace and joy. May He guard our heart and help us to experience the beauty of his presence in every moment.

“Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.” (Philippians 2:4-7)

One of my favorite Christmas movies is Elf, the 2003 movie starring Will Ferrell. One of the main themes in the movie is that there is a decline of Christmas spirit in the world, something that Buddy the Elf helps to remedy. Christmas spirit, if you watch closely, seems to be defined as having a childlike faith and wonder, especially as it comes to believing in Santa Claus. Now, (spoiler alert!) anyone who can read this article knows that Santa isn’t real. But the idea of Christmas spirit still perseveres in our culture. What is Christmas spirit? Consider, if you will, these challenging words from J.I. Packer’s book Knowing God about this thing we call “Christmas spirit”:

We talk glibly of the “Christmas spirit,” rarely meaning more by this than sentimental jollity on a family basis. But . . . it ought to mean the reproducing in human lives of the temper of him who for our sakes became poor at the first Christmas. And the Christmas spirit itself ought to be the mark of every Christian all the year round.
 
It is our shame and disgrace today that so many Christians – I will be more specific: so many of the soundest and most orthodox Christians – go through this world in the spirit of the priest and the Levite in our Lord’s parable, seeing human needs all around them, but (after a pious wish, and perhaps a prayer, that God might meet those needs) averting their eyes and passing by on the other side. That is not the Christmas spirit. Nor is it the spirit of those Christians–alas, they are many–whose ambition in life seems limited to building a nice middle-class Christian home, and making nice middle-class Christian friends, and bringing up their children in nice middle-class Christian ways, and who leave the submiddle-class sections of the community, Christian and non-Christian, to get on by themselves.
 
The Christmas spirit does not shine out in the Christian snob. For the Christmas spirit is the spirit of those who, like their Master, live their whole lives on the principle of making themselves poor – spending and being spent – to enrich their fellow humans, giving time, trouble, care and concern, to do good to others – and not just their own friends – in whatever way there seems need.
 
There are not as many who show this spirit as there should be. If God in mercy revives us, one of the things he will do will be to work more of this spirit in our hearts and lives. If we desire spiritual quickening for ourselves individually, one step we should take is to seek to cultivate this spirit. “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9). “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5). “I will run the way of thy commandments, when thou shalt enlarge my heart” (Psalm 119:32 KJV).

Amen. May God work into us this season that true Christmas spirit that is willing to, as Jesus did that first Christmas and throughout his life, “take the nature of a servant” in order to bring life, blessing, and joy to others.

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

In Luke 17, as Jesus is entering a village, he is greeted by ten men with leprosy who cry out to Jesus for healing. Jesus tells them to go see the priests, and on the way, they are healed. All ten of the lepers rejoice, but only one, a Samaritan, comes back to thank Jesus. Jesus responds by saying, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” (Luke 17:17-18). And then Jesus says to the healed man, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

In those days, lepers were outcasts from their community, with no access to the temple to worship because of their disease (Leviticus 13:46). You can understand why, in their desperation, they would cry out to Jesus for healing, pleading with him not only to relieve their suffering but to restore community with their fellow Israelites and fellowship with God to them. And Jesus, out of his compassion, heals them.

Incredibly, however, only one leper returns to give thanks to Jesus. Nine lepers, for reasons the text does not specify, continue on towards the priests, who could declare them clean. But they do not return to thank Jesus.

We may shake our heads at the rudeness of these lepers, but we would be wise to consider whether we are any different. Are we prone to crying out to God when we are in trouble, but ignoring Him when things are going well? Do we not realize that everything good in our lives is an undeserved gift of God’s favor, and that He deserves our gratitude? How often are we returning to thank God for His gifts, both big and small?

In the story, it is the one leper who returned to give thanks who hears Jesus say “your faith has made you well.” All ten lepers were healed, but only one received salvation, forgiveness of sins, true healing of the soul. There is something about acknowledging the gift we have been given by Jesus that brings deeper healing to our soul.

This week, of course, is Thanksgiving. I encourage you to remember the ten lepers this week: the nine who received God’s grace but neglected to thank Him, and the one who returned to thank Jesus for His healing. Why not take some time this week to reflect upon God’s blessings in your life that may have gone unappreciated, that you might return to Him this week and give Him the thanks and praise that He is due?

“Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” (John 17:3)

In December of 1997 (almost 30 years ago!!!), I was hired by NewLife Christian Fellowship to serve as a part-time youth pastor. At the time, I was in the middle of my senior year at UConn, and I agreed to drive to Glastonbury every Wednesday and Sunday to attend church, lead a Wednesday evening senior high and a Sunday evening junior youth group, and get to know people in the church. Eventually the position became full-time, and I served in the position until I left for seminary in August 2002. I still remember that when I got up in front of the church to be introduced, one of the first things I said with 21-year-old wonder was, “I can’t believe I’m getting paid to spend time with God!”

Over time, life and ministry has gotten significantly more complicated. As responsibilities and pressures mount, I am finding that the greatest challenge is to not lose the heart and power of not only ministry but my life – spending time with God. In John 17:3, Jesus tells us that eternal life – life to the fullest – is not primarily about an endless time of bliss with no pain or stress, but is essentially knowing God, knowing Jesus. And that, of course, is something that does not have to wait until death, but can be experienced today.

No matter what your life circumstances may be, and no matter how complicated your journey has been, I encourage you today to come back to the heart of it all. Although your life is but a mist, here today and gone tomorrow, the amazing thing is that through Jesus’ life and death for your sins and resurrection from the dead, and through the gift of the Holy Spirit, you have the unbelievable privilege of spending time with the eternal God of the universe. Nehemiah 8:10 tells us that the joy of the Lord is our strength. Paul reminds us in Ephesians 1:18-22 that the same power that raised Jesus from the dead is available to us through our God. In Philippians 4:7, Paul tells us that when we bring our anxieties to God, we can find in Him a peace that passes all understanding. And in Romans 8:35-39, we are reminded that nothing can separate us from His love. All this and more is ours in the presence of our great God.

I sincerely hope that the wonder I experienced at 21 years old will remain a part of me until the day I see Him face-to-face. And I pray for you, that you would also be overwhelmed with joy that the God of the universe has invited you into an eternal relationship of love with Him.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Romans 8:18)

Raise your hand if you’re old enough to remember Bruce Springsteen’s song “Glory Days.”

Glory days, well they’ll pass you by
Glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye
Glory days, glory days

As I watch my boys play college and high school soccer, I sometimes find myself nostalgic for my own high school days. More specifically, I think about my senior year, when after many long years I was finally the big man on campus, so to speak, the star athlete, with all the underclassmen looking up at me.

As I grow older, I have found myself wondering why nostalgia has such a strong appeal, why we so often find ourselves longing for days in the past. In my case, I believe that there was a certain glory I experienced that still holds its attraction for me. At least in my memory, I was the object of praise and adoration in a way that made me feel important, special, and loved.

One of the best treatments of the concept of glory is C.S. Lewis’ essay, “The Weight of Glory.” At only 15 pages, it may not take long to read, but it is profound in its treatment of glory, and why the Biblical authors speak of glory so often when talking about our future heavenly existence. Lewis writes that glory is usually spoken of in two ways: first, in terms of fame, approval, or appreciation, and secondly as luminescence. At first, Lewis was turned off by both definitions: the first seemed competitive and egocentric, while the second seemed ridiculous; as he put it, “who wishes to become a kind of living electric light bulb?” But as he reflected upon Jesus’ words in his parable in Matthew 25:21, “well done, good and faithful servant,” he began to understand glory as the praise and accolades we will receive from God, not from others. He writes:

I suddenly remembered that no one can enter heaven except as a child; and nothing is so obvious in a child – not in a conceited child, but in a good child – as its great and undisguised pleasure in being praised…. That is enough to raise our thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul, beyond all hope and nearly beyond belief, learns at last that she has pleased Him whom she was created to please… The promise of glory is the promise, almost incredible and only possible by the work of Christ, that some of us, that any of us who really chooses, shall actually survive that examination, shall find approval, shall please God… it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But so it is.

And as for the second aspect of glory, the luminescence, he writes,

We want something else which can hardly be put into words – to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it… What would it be to taste at the fountainhead that stream of which even these lower reaches proves so intoxicating? Yet that, I believe, is what lies before us. The whole man is to drink joy from the fountain of joy.

Glory as fame, approval, and becoming one with beauty and joy. Which brings me back to my nostalgia for my senior year of high school. I have come to realize that my longing for those days is not really a longing to be 18 again. I know that if I were to go back, I would find that the reality was not nearly as glorious as my memories have made it out to be. But my nostalgia wakes me up to the fact that I am longing for something, something glorious that my senior year was merely a shadow of.  As Lewis puts it:

The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things – the beauty, the memory of our own past – are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never visited.

Our feelings of nostalgia, our longings for better days, are a sign pointing us to something greater, to a place we have yet to visit, but in which we will spend eternity. As the writer of Ecclesiastes put it, “He has set eternity in our hearts” (3:11). And as Paul put it so eloquently, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him” (1 Corinthians 2:9). Amen. No doubt those will be the real glory days.

Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up, “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” (John 6:8–9)

At some point before I stand up on a Sunday morning to preach a sermon, I become overwhelmed by the impossibility of the task. It’s not that I don’t know how to speak in public by now, but rather that the ultimate goal of the sermon – to lead people into the presence of God so that they might be transformed by Him into the image of Christ and respond in worship and discipleship – is impossible for me to accomplish apart from the intervention of God. However, there is hope in my time of trouble. Over the years, I have found that there are three Biblical passages that reliably encourage me when I find myself in that state of mind, which may be of help to you as well in your attempts to serve God.

The first passage is from John 6:1-13. After Jesus has taught a very large crowd, He asks His disciples where they should buy bread for the gathered people to eat. Philip responds that they don’t have nearly enough money to provide food for everyone. Andrew, however, brings to Jesus a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish. Jesus takes the boy’s offering, gives thanks, and miraculously turns this small lunch into an endless buffet, with twelve to-go baskets of leftovers.

I find this passage to be an apt metaphor for our service to God. I am painfully aware that I do not have what it takes to spiritually feed all who have gathered on a Sunday. But I also trust that God has not called me to do His job, but simply to be faithful to Him and to present to Him what I have brought, asking Him to take my offering and multiply it to feed all who have gathered.

The second passage is from Isaiah 55:9-11, where God promises that just as the rain and snow water the earth, “making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth:  It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” This promise encourages me that if I focus on proclaiming what God’s Word says over my own opinions, then His Word will accomplish its purpose and bear fruit in those who are listening.

third passage is 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, where Paul encourages us with these words: “‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” There is comfort in knowing that as we recognize our weakness, we are opening ourselves up to His strength to accomplish that which we can not do in our own power.

In 20 years of preaching, God has always been faithful to meet me in my weakness and trembling and to work on my behalf for His glory. Be encouraged that no matter how He has called you to serve Him, if you will faithfully offer to Him what you have, He is more than capable to take care of the rest.

Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:25–27)
 
I have been reading through the entire Bible this year while listening to a daily podcast called The Bible Recap. Many others in our church also follow this plan, as this podcast does a great job of providing insight into the daily Bible reading. At times, Tara Leigh Cobble, the host of The Bible Recap, will begin her narration with a warning that the day’s subject matter might not be suitable for young ears. But sometimes, as I found out earlier this week, it’s the passages you might not expect that actually should come with the warning!

My 14-year-old and I were in the car listening to the daily Bible reading, when we came to Luke 14:25-26. In this passage, Jesus turns to the crowd and say, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.” Talk about an awkward moment to share with your son! To those unfamiliar with the nuances of the original Biblical languages, the plain reading of this passage seems to be clear:  true followers of Jesus will hate their family!

Of course, such an interpretation would clearly contradict the second greatest commandment, which according to Jesus in Matthew 22:39 is to “love your neighbor as yourself.” What Jesus is doing in Luke 14 is using a cultural idiom to communicate that your devotion to Him should be such a priority that, by comparison, you will hate everything and everyone else in your life. A more understandable translation would therefore be something like this: “If you want to truly follow me, then you must have a hatred for anything or anyone that attempts to steal your primary allegiance away from me.” After all, there is nothing or no one else in this world that can bring you life to the fullest and save you from sin, death, and the worries of this world like Jesus can.

What would it look like to take this perspective on your life? What would happen if you asked God to give you a hatred towards anyone that demanded your allegiance, and a revulsion for anything that sought to steal your attention away from Him? Think of Jesus in Matthew 16:23, responding to Peter’s comment that he doesn’t need to be killed by the religious leaders: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.”

What are those people, objects, or causes in your life that, like your family, might not be bad things, but threaten to steal your primary allegiance and attention away from Jesus? What would it look like to ask God to give you a Luke 14:25-27 mindset towards your phone, towards politics, towards material things, and yes, even towards your family? I pray that your love for Jesus might be so central to your life that, by comparison, you will hate everything else.