Planting Seeds for the Next Generation

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

You may have heard of a fellow in the New Testament named Timothy. There are two letters addressed to him (1 and 2 Timothy). He was one of Paul's partners in ministry in his missionary work in the book of Acts, popping up in chapters 16-20. He was with Paul when he wrote Romans (16:21), Philippians (1:1), the Thessalonian letters (1:1 in both), and more, and the apostle sent him to preach to the Corinthians (1 Cor 4:17; 2 Cor 1:19). Paul described Timothy as like a son to him (Phil 2:22)

You may have heard of Timothy before—but have you ever heard about Lois? What about Eunice? Because, without them, you never would have heard of Timothy.

Right after the “Dear Timothy” (1:2), the letter of 2 Timothy begins like this:

I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. (2 Tim 1:3-5)

Eunice was Timothy’s mother, and Lois was his grandmother. These two women were remembered for their sincere faith, which they managed to hand down, through the generations, until it lived in Timothy, too. They are the reason why, in Acts chapter 16, when Paul firsts meets Timothy, he’s already known as a “disciple” (16:1). Timothy wasn’t a product of Paul’s mission, but he became one of the driving forces behind it—because of a couple of faithful women who raised him up in the faith.

Lately, at our Wednesday night Bible studies at Eastlawn UMC, we’ve been learning about “Forgotten Women of the Bible.” I shared about one of those forgotten women, who anointed Jesus in Nain in Luke 7, a few weeks back. Today I wanted to highlight these two women as well, because I think they remind us of something so important. To all of you moms and grandmothers out there: don’t underestimate the difference you’re making in a child’s life.

I know so many grandmothers who have faithfully carted their grandkids back and forth to church for years and so many mothers who have been doing everything they know how to try and instill an abiding faith in their kids—but they worry. They worry about the influences of friends, peers, other family members, teachers, and social media overpowering the examples and lessons they’ve given those children.

If that’s you, I get it. I’ve heard too many stories about PKs not to be concerned about what my girls will believe when they get older. At the same time: never doubt that you are having an impact. Never doubt that those conversations and Sunday mornings and gift Bibles and prayers are planting seeds that can sprout and grow throughout their lifetime.

You can’t control what that looks like or when it might happen, but you can still do your part. Paul, looking back on his ministry in Corinth, wrote, “I planted, Apollos [another Christian teacher] watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Cor 3:6) You plant. Or maybe you water. You do your part. Then you entrust your child, your grandchild, to the Lord who gives the growth.

And who knows? One day that kid might be a Timothy.

And you—you would be her Eunice. You would be his Lois.

Listen to this right here:

The Knowledge of the Lord

There are some descriptions of eternity in scripture that we know pretty well. Streets of gold and pearly gates (Rev 21:21). “In my Father’s house there are many rooms…” (John 14:2-3) “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your master.” (Matt 25:23)

There are some other descriptions that don’t get as much attention. They’re less vivid. They don’t capture the imagination in the same way that some others do.

Jeremiah tells of a day when

“No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’ because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest,” declares the Lord. (31:34)

Similarly, Isaiah speaks of a time when “the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (11:9)

Those two prophetic promises remind me of another line, in Paul’s letters, when the apostle's looking ahead to the future: “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Cor 13:12) The Lord knows us fully, searches our hearts and minds (Ps 7:9). And, one day, we will know the Lord fully, know the heart and mind of God.

All of these verses envision a day when we will finally, truly understand and know the Lord. That is one of the unfathomable blessings of eternal life: intimate knowledge of God.

But if all of that is in store for God’s people one day, that should tell us something about our knowledge of God here and now: it’s imperfect, incomplete—for now, we don't fully know.

Now, Jesus is a clear picture of a God who’s otherwise invisible to us. (Col 1:15) But Jesus is also a human picture, and one that we only have secondhand. There are things about God that you can’t see by looking at Christ's life in the gospels, because no book can contain everything about God and one human lifetime isn’t enough to show it all, either. I believe Jesus reveals everything that a person needs to know about God, but, still, our knowledge of God today is imperfect, incomplete. We don’t fully know. Not yet.

What am I getting at with all this?

Stay humble. Know what you don’t know.

Christians can talk about the Lord of Heaven and Earth as if we’ve got it all figured out, as if we’re authorities on the topic who’ve been dispatched to correct and deride all of the ignorant, confused thinking out there. Have a little intellectual humility. Study the scriptures. Pray. Strive to know the Lord. But don’t presume to know it all. Don’t rest on your laurels, confident in your education and enlightenment.

You and I will always be students and novices in this life, always able to learn more, to know God more deeply.

Centuries ago, a brilliant saint named Thomas experienced a revelation of God’s presence while leading a service of Holy Communion. Up to that point, Thomas had been working on his magnum opus, an enormous book of theology that students still pore over more than 700 years later. But after his experience that day, he put his pen down and closed the book. Later on, when a friend encouraged him to start writing again, Thomas said, “I can write no more. I have seen things that make my writings like straw.”

One day, we’ll know God fully, like we’re fully known. For now, stay humble. Know what you don’t know.

You can listen to this devotional here:

Everything Will Return

Last Friday was November 1^st. For many people, that’s the day you take down the Halloween decorations and turn on the Christmas music. Some others know November 1^st as All Saints Day: a day on the Church calendar when we remember and celebrate the saints who have lived and died before us. (And when I say “saints,” I don’t just mean those with an St. before their names, but anyone who’s lived with Jesus as their Lord.)

All Saints is a chance to learn from the wisdom and examples of those believers of the past, but it’s also a chance to celebrate God’s promises for the future. One of the scripture readings for All Saints Day this year was from Revelation 21, one of my favorite passages in the Bible, when, after the dead are raised back to life in chapter 20, John glimpses a “a new heaven and a new earth” (21:1). And he hears a voice that says

See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and be their God; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away. (21:3-4)

That’s the promise we hold on to whenever we lose a “saint” we love: one day, the dead will live again, and God will come to live with us, forever. No more death. No more tears. No more hurt.

And that future, according to Paul in 1 Corinthians 15, includes new, eternal bodies (15:35-56). Just like the resurrected Jesus walked out of his tomb, ate broiled fish, and held out his hands to disbelieving disciples, we can expect resurrected bodies for that eternity with God and each other. After all, when with the saints in glory we at last see Jesus’s face, how could we sing with “joy through the ages” of his love for us, without lips, tongues, vocal chords, or lungs?

I recently came across a passage from the Russian-American writer Vladimir Nabokov that, I think, beautifully captures that All Saints hope. It’s from a letter to his mother, as she grieved the loss of Nabokov’s father:

Three years have gone–and every trifle relating to father is still as alive as ever inside me. I am so certain, my love, that we will see him again, in an unexpected but completely natural heaven, in a realm where all is radiance and delight. He will come towards us… slightly raising his shoulders as he used to do, and we will kiss the birthmark on his hand without surprise. You must live in expectation of that tender hour, my love, and never give in to the temptation of despair. Everything will return.

Everything will return—birthmarks, the way he raised his shoulders, everything.

When Christ comes again and God’s saints climb out of their graves, they’ll know each other. They’ll recognize that face, those hands, that gait. They'll know those bodies. 

For every saint, for everyone who lives with Jesus as their Lord, everything will return.

That’s the promise I’m celebrating and resting in this week.

You can listen right here:

That One More Thing

Bowing before her idols on a recent trip.
(I have no idea what she's doing here.)

My child has a fever. And the only prescription is more stuffed animals.

“Soft buddies,” she calls them. There are piles of them. Mounds. Hills. So. Many. Soft buddies. And she wants more. Every time we leave the house, she’s hoping to go shop for soft buddies. Even if we don’t leave the house, she’s pleading. Emily recently created a little monster for her out of googly eyes and a pompom. Since then, this child will hand Emily random items—a dime, a tea bag, a large stick—and ask Momma to “make me a soft buddy.” She’s only 3 ½, I know. But she’s also very, very sick.

The other day, in the car, we were discussing this. (Translation: she was asking for more soft buddies.) I said, “You know what the last thing you need is? Another soft buddy. You can’t even count how many soft buddies you have.” To which she responded, “No, I want that one more thing!”

Kids will say the quiet part out loud. They’ll say things that grown-ups feel but would never utter, because we know how whiny, greedy, sulky, or selfish it would sound. Things like, “No, I want that one more thing!”

Jesus says something in Luke that struck me the first time I noticed it, 15 or 20 years ago, and it’s stuck with me ever since. A man asked Christ to “tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” (12:13) Jesus’s response? “And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” (12:15)

Life isn’t about how much stuff you have.

I haven’t quoted that to my daughter. (Did I mention she’s 3 ½?) But I’ll gladly quote it to myself and to you: “Guard against every kind of greed. Life is not measured by how much you own.” (NLT)

Jesus knew how much importance we will place on possessions. He knew that we’ll buy one thing and immediately start dreaming of the next one. He knew that we’ll get lost in thinking about shiny new purchases and stress over how to acquire them. He knew that we’ll make birthday lists and Christmas lists and year-round wish lists. He knew that we’ll wrack up credit card debt to keep buying and pay for storage units to keep hoarding. He knew.

That’s why he warned us not to store up treasures here on earth, because your heart follows your treasure (Matt 6:19-21).

That’s why he said beware of greed, be on your guard, life isn’t measured by how much you own, the abundance of possessions.

Because he knew that we always want that one more thing.

Before you make that next purchase, you might want to ask yourself:

• Do I need this?
• Do I even really want this, or am I just buying to scratch an itch?
• Is there a wiser way I could put this money to use?
• Might God be giving me an opportunity here to practice being content? (see 1 Tim 6:6-9)

You can listen right here:

Your Sins Are Forgiven and Forgotten

“Forgive and forget.” That’s a standard line in our culture’s morality. (It’s a standard line. I don’t know about a standard practice.)

The Bible talks an awful lot about forgiving others. You should forgive someone who sins against you 77 times (Matt 18:21-22)—in other words, stop trying to keep count! “If you do not forgive others their sins,” Jesus warns, “your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matt 6:15) We should “bear with each other and forgive one another,” Colossians says. “Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” (3:13)

As far as I know, though, the Bible never talks about ‘forgiving and forgetting’. You could take Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13 that way: love “keeps no record of wrongs.” (13:5) To me, those words rule out resentment and grudges, but they don’t advise amnesia. You ought to remember someone’s character and let that guide how to relate to them wisely going forward, but you shouldn’t rehearse a record of wrongs and keep fanning those flames of anger.

The Bible never says you have to forgive and forget.

But the Bible does tell us that God does. The Lord is a God who forgives and forgets.

A lot of folks think of Old Testament as the part of scripture filled with harsh words of judgment, while the New Testament is all mercy, grace, and love. There are reasons people have that impression, but it’s actually the Old Testament where you see this promise most clearly.

The Old Testament already strains our sense of distance when it says that “as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” (Ps 103:12) But then, it goes a step further, when the Lord promises: “I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.” (Jer 31:34)

I will remember your sins no more.

Not only are our sins incomprehensibly far gone, but God forgot all about them. The Lord doesn’t see you as a disappointing daughter who’s always falling short or an infuriatingly sin-sick son. God has chosen not to remember any of that. Forgive. Forget.

I think that’s why Paul, faced with his own imperfections, could talk about “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead.” (Phil 3:13) There is no reason for you to dwell on your mistakes. God doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong: you might still need to take action to make things right with someone or in some situation, but you don’t need to swim in guilt and shame over who you’ve been. We all need a realistic self-awareness: you should know your weaknesses and your limits. But that ought to inform your journey of faith, not take you on a guilt trip. Forget what is behind, just like your Father remembers your sins no more. Like Maria Goff says over and over in her book, Love Lives Here: Jesus is more interested in who you’re becoming than in who you were.

So, do we need to forgive and forget with each other? Sort of. Not quite.

Will God forgive and forget with us? Every single time.

Listen to the devotional here:

Seen by Jesus

For the last few months, I’ve been leading a Wednesday night Bible study on Forgotten Women of the Bible. We’ve talked about Leah, Michal, Jehosheba, and more. There are a few women who, I don’t think I could lead an hour-long discussion about them, but I still wanted a chance to share their stories. I don’t want them to be forgotten. And so, today, I want to tell you about one of those ladies.

Hers is one of the more familiar stories out of the bunch. (We know our Gospels a lot better than we know our Old Testament!)

We meet her in Luke chapter 7. Jesus is having dinner with a Pharisee named Simon, when an unexpected visitor joins them:

And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment. (7:37-38)

Simon is scandalized by what he sees, and he thinks to himself, ‘Well, if Jesus here were really a prophet, then he’d know what kind of woman this is touching him—this sinner.’ (7:39)

But he did know. Simon thought that this woman’s distance from God would repulse Jesus, but her distance from God was precisely why Jesus wanted to be with her. His mission was to seek and save the lost, not wash his hands of them and cut them loose.

Besides: to Jesus—unlike Simon—this woman wasn’t defined by her sins. She was defined by her great love. To Simon, it’s very simple: “she is a sinner.” (7:39) But Jesus isn’t content with that. He asks Simon, “Do you see this woman?” (7:44) Do you really see her? Do you see what she’s done for me? Some people may only see your past, your mistakes, your collection of scarlet letters, but Jesus sees your heart, who you’re trying to be, who you can be someday. Simon sees a woman who has sinned. Jesus sees a woman who has been forgiven much and loves much (7:47).

This nameless woman’s story reveals how Jesus looks at you and me, whenever we come to him ashamed and in the wrong—whether it’s from that one nagging vice that, try as you might, you just can’t kick, or it’s from a lifetime of self-centeredness and self-indulgence. He looks at you the way the prodigal’s father looked at him: longing for his child to be close, to be home again. To him, you’ve always been so much more than a sinner.

The late Dallas Willard described the scene in Luke 7 like this: “She had seen a goodness in him that could only be God, and it broke her heart with gratitude and love.” That’s why she shamelessly adored him with her ugly crying, messy hair, and pricy ointment. May we all find a way, today, to show Christ our gratitude and love.

You can listen right here!

Sweat the Small Stuff

There’s a great quote from St. Augustine, an influential Christian bishop from the 300s-400s, that says,

Do not shrug daily sins aside because they are small; fear them, rather, because they are many… How tiny are grains of sand! Put too much sand into a boat, it sinks. How tiny are drops of rain! They fill rivers and wash away houses, don't they? So don't just shrug these sins aside.

When I look at this or that “small” sin, it may not seem too alarming. Okay, so I voiced that criticism that I should have kept to myself. I ignored that phone call that I should have taken. (I’m sure I’ll call them back!) I fueled my resentment by reading that news article, even though I knew it would only make me mad. It happens. God will forgive me. What’s the big deal?

The big deal is that my day is filled with those small sins. How long before all of those rain drops swell into a flood that does serious, lasting damage?

When I saw that quotation, it reminded me of some other words, from Catherine Sanderson, a writer and professor of psychology: “You gotta sweat the small stuff.” Sanderson’s point was that tiny, seemingly insignificant decisions and acts lead you somewhere. They set a trajectory that, once you get a little farther along, may not seem so tiny or insignificant. That affair began with an “innocent” conversation at work. That rift in the friendship began with the choice to bring last week’s argument back up. If you want to avoid trouble and hurt down the road, you’ve gotta sweat the small stuff.

And maybe that’s why Jesus said in Luke 9:23 that “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.”

Taking up your cross daily means sweating the small stuff. It means refusing to shrug off those tiny sins. Jesus isn’t calling his followers to carry a literal cross like his and go to their deaths—not usually, at least—but to carry a cross of daily self-denial, of setting aside my preferences, my feelings, and my desires, for the sake of loving God and loving my neighbors. In that classroom full of hyper kids. In your car at the intersection. In front of a sink full of dirty dishes at home. All day long you have opportunities to either shrug off a tiny sin and do what you want, or to take up your cross and go where Jesus is leading.

And whether I am a faithful disciple of Christ today probably isn’t going to depend on how I respond to some earth-shaking temptation or obstacle. It’ll depend on the choices I make in all of those small moments. It’ll depend on whether I pay attention to and get intentional about the small stuff.

Listen to this devotional below (read by Stuffy-Nosed Nance!):

Watching and Praying with Wesley (Not That Wesley)

Susanna Wesley

"Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful." - Colossians 4:2

If you know anything about John Wesley’s mother, Susanna, you know that she was a key influence on her children’s faith and education. Not only was she responsible for their learning for the first decade of their lives, but she continued to exchange letters with them and discuss theology well into their adult years.

One small piece of her legacy is this “Prayer of Susanna Wesley” included in The United Methodist Book of Worship:

You, O Lord, have called us to watch and pray.
Therefore, whatever may be the sin against which we pray,
make us careful to watch against it,
and so have reason to expect that our prayers will be answered.
In order to perform this duty aright,
grant us grace to preserve a sober, equal temper,
and sincerity to pray for your assistance. Amen.

I’m sure her opening line is inspired by Matthew 26:41 and Mark 14:38, when Jesus warns his sleepy disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane to “watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” Resisting temptation is definitely the aim of this prayer. But this also reminds me of Colossians 4 and Paul’s call to watchful prayer. That instruction in Colossians is brief and leaves a lot unexplained, but Wesley here really unpacks this idea of being watchful.

First, she says that if you’re praying against some sin—for strength to resist temptation, for repentance when you stray from Christ’s path, for transformation of some bad habits—if you’re praying against some sin, you have to be careful to watch against it. In other words, don’t expect God to do the work for you. Pray for God’s grace, and then do your part: be alert and on your guard against that sin. Then we’ll “have reason to expect that our prayers will be answered.” Devote yourself to prayer and be watchful.

The second thing Wesley asks from God is grace to “preserve a sober, equal temper.” To me, a “sober, equal temper” (that’s 18^th century-talk) means being controlled and even-keeled in your emotional responses, not reactive or volatile. That’s essential in all of the little interactions that make up loving your neighbor. It’s something we need to watch for, and, even if that’s not your normal knee-jerk reaction, with God’s help, with grace, that kind of calm, measured disposition is possible.

She closes by requesting “sincerity to pray for your assistance.” Wesley prays that she’ll keep praying. This prayer isn’t supposed to solve her problem. It’s supposed to bring her back before the Lord, seeking assistance again. This prayer is self-perpetuating. Overcoming temptation isn’t the result of one moment’s effort or one cry for help but of an unbroken chain of prayers that have us continually watching out for sin, watching our own tendencies, and watching for God to come to our aid. Like Paul wrote, this kind of watchful prayer is something that you devote yourself to.

Are you being watchful in prayer?

Are you watching for temptation, watching your own attitudes and behaviors, and watching out for God’s grace to help you day by day?

What do you need to start watching more closely today?

You can listen to this week's devotional below:

Training Up

This Sunday we talked about the passage in Mark 9 where Jesus calls his followers to welcome children in his name. Engaging and caring for children is what serving our King looks like. (See Mark 9:37.)

There’s another reason, that I didn’t get into that morning, that our love for and ministries with children are so important. It’s simply that, a kid today is already being formed into the adult they’ll be tomorrow. That’s why Proverbs 22:6 famously says, “Train up a child in the way, and when they’re old they will not stray.” (I love that translation—it captures how proverbs are meant to be catchy.) The way Eugene Peterson put it, in his Message Bible, is “Point your kids in the right direction— when they’re old they won’t be lost.” Childhood is the most impressionable time of someone’s life, and so you want to give them the right impressions about the things that matter most.

Every adult in a child’s life is making impressions on them—aunts and uncles, family friends, grandparents, church volunteers, teachers and classroom aides. Of course, as Andy and Sandra Stanley have pointed out, the source of words determines the weight of those words, and words from a parent weigh the most. So, think about the children in your life:

1. How much do your words (and example) weigh to them?
2. How are you using those words and that example to train them and point them in the right direction?

We should be realistic about the influence we do or do not have, but we should also always be intentional about giving them the right impressions—about themselves, about other people, about money, health, their bodies, the environment, priorities, and, certainly, about faith.

I never realized until someone pointed it out, but that proverb is not just a prescription for how to guide a child: it’s also a warning. Whether you realize it or not, whether you are doing it with care or not, you are training children in the way they’re going to go. We are constantly training them in what kind of behavior is acceptable, what attitudes are normal, what activities are important or unimportant.

Every now and then I’ll hear someone say, “Practice makes perfect,” and someone else will immediately chime in, “Perfect practice makes perfect.” This is point they’re making: you can be trained badly. You can be discipled in the wrong direction. The warning of the proverb is, take care how you train a child, because whatever way you train them in, when they’re old they won’t stray from it.

No one’s going to do this perfectly. God knows I don’t. But we can all strive to do it deliberately, to give thought to the impressions we’re making with our words and examples.

Do you give thought to the words you use and example you set around children, to leave the best impressions you can? Are you intentional about interacting with kids and being a positive influence in their lives?

Remember: engaging and caring for children is what serving our King looks like.

Listen to this devotional right here:

Dedicate a Space

I met someone recently who was a prayer closet person.

A prayer closet person is someone who has a designated space or room or literal closet in their home where they do their praying—a prayer closet. As far as I know, the idea comes from something Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount: “whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret.” (Matthew 6:6) The King James Version actually says “enter into thy closet.” There was even a whole movie about a prayer closet a few years back called War Room. It’s a thing.

This isn’t something I’ve ever done, and it’s very rare that I ever hear someone talk about one, but, like I said, I met a real, live prayer closet person recently.

And she told a story.

She said that there were some guests coming over to the house, and, of course, she had junk everywhere that she needed to clean up, stat. So, in the rush before folks got there, she crammed all of that junk into her handy, dandy prayer closet.

But it’s a lot easier to cram junk into a closet than it is to clean the closet back out, isn’t it?

So, everything just sat in her prayer closet. And sat. And sat.

And she said, “Yes, I was praying, but I lost my dedicated space, because I put junk in there.”

I don’t remember what point she was making with that story. All I remember is thinking, ‘Wow. That’s a parable.’ I don’t think she meant to tell a parable, but that’s how it hit me: this wasn’t just a story about her closet; it was a story about all of our schedules.

She had a space in her life dedicated to prayer, but she lost it, because she’d filled it with junk instead. Meanwhile, you and I don’t have space in our days for prayer. Why? Because we’ve filled every moment we can find with something else.

TV.

Social media.

Hobbies.

Socializing.

Podcasts.

Sports.

Work.

Exercise.

You know what your schedule looks like. Some of the busyness is really good, valuable things. Some of it’s junk.

The psalmist said he would lift up his hands in prayer as long as he lived (Ps 63:4). The first Christians were known for their devotion to prayer (Acts 2:42). The Apostle Paul exhorted believers to “never stop praying” (1 Thess 5:17).

But I don’t have time, because I fill all my opportunities with other things instead.

What would it take to clean some of the junk out of your day and dedicate a space in your life for prayer?

How would you need to rearrange your schedule?

What might need to be cut out of your current routine?

What new thing might you need to say ‘no’ to?

Everyone has at least a little margin in the day that they can control, but if you aren’t intentional with that time, devices and distractions will happily colonize it. So make a plan. Prioritize the things that are vital.

That cup of coffee in the morning.

The chance to decompress at the end of a long day.

Those moments of connecting with your Lord in prayer.

Accompanied by Your God

Ezekiel's vision, from the Zurich Bible

If you’ve ever read (or tried to read) the book of Ezekiel, then you know that chapter 1 is wild.

There are these four creatures, each with four wings, four faces, and hooves like a calf, flashing around like bolts of lightning (1:5-14).

Beside the creatures are wheels—“something like a wheel within a wheel”—and the rims of the wheels are covered in eyes. Anywhere the creatures go, the wheels go with them. (1:15-21)

Above all that is “something like a dome,” (1:22) with “something like a throne” on top (he’s not really sure how to describe it all), and on the throne-thing is “something that seemed like a human form” (1:26)—the Lord.

He’s having a vision of God’s throne. It’s sort of a chariot. The creatures—cherubim, we find out later in the book—pull the chariot, and it rolls along on those watchful wheels. The prophet also points out that these wheels can move in any direction (1:17).

God’s throne has wheels. It’s mobile. What’s that all about?

These weird angels and their rolling royal throne show up again in chapters 10 and 11. God’s glory, God’s presence, has been dwelling in Jerusalem (8:4). It’s been that way since King Solomon first dedicated the Temple back in 1 Kings. But, as Jerusalem’s destruction looms, Ezekiel witnesses the glory of the Lord moving away from the Temple (10:18-19) and out of the city (11:22-23).

God left. The Lord’s throne is mobile, and it just rolled right out of town.

So, what, when the going gets tough, the Lord gets going? Is that what the wheels are for? So, when God can’t stand the heat, God can get out of the kitchen?

Actually, it’s just the opposite.

The Babylonians are going to conquer Judah, destroy Jerusalem, and carry off countless citizens into exile in Babylon. (Remember Daniel and his friends living in Babylon?) God’s people are about to have their lives shattered. They’re going to be separated from home, from family and friends, and from God, who lives back in Jerusalem.

Unless… unless God isn’t stuck in Jerusalem.

What if… what if God’s throne had wheels? What if God’s presence was mobile?

When the glory of God departs Jerusalem in Ezekiel 11, it says “the glory of the Lord ascended from the middle of the city, and stopped on the mountain east of the city.” (11:23)

The wheels could move in any direction, but the Lord’s headed east. Why?

That’s the direction of Babylon. When the people are taken from their homes and carted off east, their Lord will already be there waiting for them. They aren’t separated. They aren’t abandoned. They are accompanied by their God.

When your life is shattered, you are never abandoned or separated from the Lord. You are accompanied by your God. When the going gets tough, God doesn’t get going—God goes with you. If things are falling apart, and you’re looking around wondering, ‘Did God leave?’, maybe God’s just already gone on to the place ahead that you’re so afraid of, and is waiting to be with you there.

That wild vision in Ezekiel chapter 1, do you know where Ezekiel saw it? Chapter 1, verse 1: “as I was among the exiles by the river Chebar, the heavens opened, and I saw visions of God.”

The river Chebar is in Babylon.

And so was God.

You can listen to this devotional right here:

The Gospel According to Zephaniah

Do you have a favorite Bible verse?

I’m not sure if I do or not. I sure quote Philippians 1:9-11 a lot. Revelation 21:3-5 is never far from my mind. Psalm 145:9 is important to me; so is 2 Timothy 2:13. But are any of those my favorite? That’s tough.

I heard a woman say recently that her favorite verse of the Bible is Zephaniah 3:17.

Zephaniah??

Yes, Zephaniah. (That isn’t a made-up Bible name. It’s an actual book in the Old Testament.)

Since I didn’t have Zephaniah 3:17 memorized, I looked it up.

But before you hear it, some context. Zephaniah chapter 3 describes the Lord’s reactions to Jerusalem’s unfaithfulness. There’s a lot of condemnation: Jerusalem’s leaders are ravenous beasts (3:3); her prophets are deceitful, and her priests are profane (3:4). There’s disbelief: “I said, ‘Surely the city will fear me; it will accept correction...’ But they were the more eager to make all their deeds corrupt.” (3:7) There’s some talk of “indignation” and “burning anger” (3:8).

But then, in verse 9, the prophet begins to strike a hopeful tone. “On that day you shall not be put to shame.” (3:11) By verse 14, hope has turned to joy and praise: “Sing aloud, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter of Jerusalem!”

And that brings us to Zephaniah 3:17:

The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
    but will rejoice over you with singing.

There’s so much packed into this verse.

“The Lord your God is with you” – That’s the story of scripture in a nutshell. God drawing near, to be with people: whether walking with them in the Garden of Eden, traveling with them in a pillar of cloud or fire through the wilderness, dwelling with them in the Jerusalem Temple, being born here with us in Bethlehem, or making a home with us forever in the new heavens and new earth. That’s what God does.

“The Mighty Warrior who saves” – the Lord fights for you. In scripture, God fights to save people from sin, from death, from illness, from poverty, loneliness, mistakes, shame, and more. And the Lord is a Mighty Warrior.

“He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you but will rejoice over you with singing” – I think we often imagine God as watching us, perpetually disappointed or frustrated. You might put a more positive spin on it and think of the Lord as patient and merciful, but, either way, we assume the Lord’s hawk-eyed and exacting, watching for every failure and sin. But, while God does rebuke us when we need it, what if what God’s really interested in is taking great delight in you and rejoicing over you with singing? What if God celebrates more than finger wags? Smiles more than frowns? What if God doesn’t watch you so closely to look for mistakes, but because God thinks you’re absolutely incredible? God is our Father, after all.

There’s an awful lot of gospel packed into Zephaniah 3:17.

Not a bad favorite Bible verse, really.

Listen to this week's devotional:

Stay in Love with God

A couple weeks back I was preaching (and devotional-izing) on the story of David, Bathsheba, and Uriah. There’s a pretty well-known “psalm of David” that connects to this chapter of David’s life, Psalm 51. It’s full of iconic and stirring lines:

Have mercy on me, O God,
   according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
   blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
   and cleanse me from my sin!

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
   wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
   and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence,
   and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
   and uphold me with a willing spirit. (51:1-2, 7, 10-12)

You might hear some of these words in worship services during Lent, because this has become sort of the quintessential biblical cry of repentance.

There’s one verse in the psalm, however, that I struggle with. It’s Psalm 51:4:

Against you, you only, have I sinned
    and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you may be justified in your words
    and blameless in your judgment.

Against you only have I sinned? What about Bathsheba? What about Uriah? Did David not sin against them?

I recently heard someone (I can’t remember who!!) say that you should especially pay attention to the things in scripture that disturb you or leave you shaking your head, because those verses and stories clearly still have something to teach you.

Ugh. Okay. Fine.

Well, if I give Psalm 51:4 a little more of my time and attention, it does make me wonder. I wonder if David’s words aren’t shining a light on an aspect of sin that it’s easy to overlook. Our behaviors, attitudes, and words aren’t only sinful whenever they harm others. Our behaviors, attitudes, and words are also sinful whenever they are disobedient or dishonoring to God.

When someone questions whether your actions and habits are appropriate for a follower of Jesus, it’s natural to respond, ‘I’m not hurting anybody!’ And that might be true. But, in that moment, have you considered God’s view of your actions and habits? “Against you, you only, have I sinned.” Even if you aren’t, in any obvious way, sinning against another person, you still have to answer the question: am I sinning against God?

If you’re Methodist, think about it like this. John Wesley had three “general rules” that he expected all of the first Methodists to follow:

1. Do no harm.
2. Do good.
3. Attend to the ordinances of God. (Today, people will summarize this one: stay in love with God.)

You may be checking box number 1. But if you’re not doing the good God’s equipped you to do, then you’re still sinning against the Lord. (James 4:17 says, “If anyone knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.”)

Or, you might be checking box number 1 and be very diligent about box number 2—but if you’re not intentionally taking steps to strengthen and to show your love for God, you’re still falling short. “Against you have I sinned.”

Look for ways today to love your neighbor as yourself. Dedicate yourself to that work. Yes. Yes. Yes.

But in our concern for our neighbors, doing them no harm, doing them good, let’s not forget the first great commandment: Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength.

Let’s be no less diligent in our efforts to do right by our Father.

Let’s not sin against him, but do everything we can to stay in love with God.

You can listen to this devotional right here:

Share Your Weed-Eater

When I started at Duke, our freshmen class was divided into spiritual formation groups, where someone older and wiser could guide a handful of students in staying connected to Christ and the Spirit during seminary. My group was led by Steve. Steve was a jovial, smart, simple guy, who loved students and loved Jesus.

I don’t remember much that Steve talked about in those meetings, but there’s one little story that I’ve never forgotten. He said that when he moved into his neighborhood in Durham, he suddenly had a yard to mow—but no lawnmower. And he noticed that none of the neighbors seemed to own a weed-eater. So, rather than buying a lawnmower, Steve bought a weed-eater. Then he went around the neighborhood, met everybody, and made them a proposal: you can use my weed-eater anytime, if you’ll let me borrow your lawnmower once in a while. Everyone thought that sounded good, so he borrowed their mowers in a rotation, and they all used his weed-eater.

At that point in my life, I was already convinced that Christians needed to be wary of buying and owning more stuff. And here, good ole’ Steve had discovered a lifehack to ease some of that consumer pressure: sharing. He gave, but he also received, so that everyone had what they needed—but everyone didn’t have to buy everything they needed.

I’ve tried to follow Steve’s example ever since. I’m not shy about borrowing a tool I don’t own, and you’re welcome to any book I have. (I’ve noticed that I need tools more often than people need books. Borrow a movie instead! And my DVD player, since you probably don’t have one anymore.)

I don’t think this kind of borrowing and sharing is universally appreciated. Some people probably assume I’m just cheap. But it seems to me like a very Christian way of inhabiting our consumer culture.

All these years, though, I’ve had nothing more to base that on than Steve’s example and a gut feeling. Until a couple weeks ago. I was reading for our Sunday school class, when I came across a quote from an ancient Christian writer named Tertullian. He used a phrase I’ve read more times than I can count, but had never connected to Steve’s weed-eater before. The phrase is from a verse in Acts chapter 4:

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. (4:32)

Everything they owned was held in common. Or, as the New Living Translation puts it: “they shared everything they had.”

In the early Church, each member didn’t need to own everything they needed. Because each member shared everything they had.

How much money could we redirect towards caring for others and supporting Jesus’s priorities in the world if Christians didn’t buy into the consumer lie that you have to own everything? How much more could we accomplish for Christ if we just learned to share?

Listen to this week's devotional right here:

Collateral Damage

This past Sunday I preached from 2 Samuel chapter 11, the story of David, Bathsheba, and Uriah. As I was reading the passage and chewing on the story there, I noticed something that I’d never really paid attention to before.

David, you might remember, decided to have Uriah killed when he couldn’t cover up Bathsheba’s pregnancy, so he sent a message to General Joab: “Station Uriah on the front lines where the battle is fiercest. Then pull back so that he will be killed.” (11:15) Joab was a ruthless man, and he didn’t hesitate.

So Joab assigned Uriah to a spot close to the city wall where he knew the enemy’s strongest men were fighting. And when the enemy soldiers came out of the city to fight, Uriah the Hittite was killed along with several other Israelite soldiers. (11:16-17)

It was those last six words that I noticed this time: Uriah was dead, “along with several other Israelite soldiers.”

Joab and his messenger give a more detailed account of the fighting in verses 19-21 and 23-24. Uriah and the troops drove the Ammonites back to the gate of their walled city. Once Israel’s army was so near the city, though, the Ammonite archers could easily cut them down from the walls. That’s how Uriah and the others died. Those casualties weren’t a result of enemy strength or ingenuity. The general made a deliberate strategic mistake. His troops should never have been in that position—he intentionally made an unforced error for no other reason than to get Uriah killed.

And several other Israelite soldiers died with him.

They were just collateral damage. David and Joab decided that they were willing to sacrifice these other soldiers’ lives in order to eliminate Uriah.

All because of David’s lust for Bathsheba and his fear of being found out.

How often do your sinful choices leave collateral damage in their wake?

One spouse suffers because of another’s gambling habit.

A child is hurting after mom or dad’s sins wreck their marriage.

A stranger’s harmed because of someone’s impatient or distracted driving.

A friendship is soured because of one person’s pettiness, grudges, temper, or gossip.

So often, your sinful attitudes, words, and behavior—even if you insist, “It’s not hurting anybody!”—it sends out ripples (or shockwaves) that cause harm to bystanders in your life, people you may not have given any thought to before you acted or opened your mouth.

Because you weren’t thinking about collateral damage. If some things or people had to be sacrificed, well, you could worry about that later.

It’s easy to miss this detail in the big, ignominious mess of 2 Samuel 11, but David accepted that those men would have to pay the price for his deception.

Something that Christians, who love their neighbors as themselves (Luke 10:27), treat others the way they want to be treated (Matt 7:12), and look not to their own interests but to the interests of others (Phil 2:4), can never do.

Don’t make someone else pay the price for your brokenness today. Remember that your choices and actions impact more than just your own life. Or, if it’s too late for that, if you’ve already left collateral damage in your wake, if someone’s been harmed by the after effects of your sin, then there's only one question left to answer: What can you do to try to make things right?

You can listen to this devotional right here:

God Is Bad at Math

Photo by Roman Mager on Unsplash

A while back, as I was getting ready for Trinity Sunday, I was thinking about the idea that there is only one God: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. If you put that belief into a math formula, I guess it would look something like this:

1 (Father) + 1 (Son) + 1 (Spirit) = 1 (God)

You probably noticed the problem here. 1+1+1 does not equal 1. It’s not good math. (Suddenly, I’m imagining that Barbie from the 90s that got Mattel into so much trouble for complaining “Math class is tough!” Except the Barbie is God.)

But as I was getting ready for Trinity Sunday and pondering this bad math, I had a realization: Math has never been God’s strong suit.

From Gideon’s 300 men against 135,000 Midianites to the five loaves of bread and two fish to feed 5,000 people, to the Trinity—one God: the Father, the Son, and the Spirit—God’s always been bad at math.

But God’s struggle with that always ends up revealing his power and his love more clearly than before. I think that’s because math works with strict limits and dependable rules, but God’s power towards you and love for you are unlimited and unruly.

When God chooses to provide, God will provide, and when God chooses to deliver, God will deliver, no matter what the math says.

Our God is so full of love, that our one God is three persons eternally loving each other and looking for others to love, too—never mind the rules for addition.

Math just doesn’t capture who God is or what God does.

So yeah, the Lord struggles with math. That’s because the Lord does not, will not, cannot struggle to love you and care for you. God’s heart and God’s power defy every equation and formula, every expectation and everything that makes sense.

Our units can’t even measure them. “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him.” (Ps 103:11)

Our concepts can’t even comprehend them. “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power… to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge.” (Eph 3:18-19)

Christian, today, instead of taking inventory of your needs and challenges or tallying up all of your sins and failures, remember who your God is and rest easy in the immeasurable, unknowable, incalculable love and care of the Lord.

Reading is hard, too. Listen to this devotional right here:

Always Before Me

A while back, I wrote about Paul’s famous challenge in 1 Thessalonians to “pray without ceasing.” I remember puzzling over those words growing up: what exactly does he want us to do? What does that look like? How do you do it? None of us should be confused about this today, though—because we use our phones “without ceasing.” That’s not some unrealistic, unattainable spiritual height. “Without ceasing” is just a habit you gradually get into.

I was thinking about that again recently, when I read something John Ortberg says in his forward to the book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. Ortberg points out some lines and observations from the book that resonated with him, and he writes,

“The average iPhone user touches his or her phone 2,617 times a day.” By way of contrast, the psalmist said, “I have set the Lord always before me” (Psalm 16v8, ESV). What would my life be like if God touched my mind as frequently as I touch my phone?

What would my life be like if God touched my mind as frequently as I touch my phone?

I don’t keep track of how often I pick up my phone, but I do pay attention to the average daily screen time numbers that pop up every Sunday morning. I pat myself on the back when the number goes down; I think about changes I can make when that average trends up.

What I don’t think as much about is how to use my time well once I do peel my eyes off of that screen, what to give my attention to after I put the phone down.

There are plenty of worthy options here: more attention to my family; giving one of my parents a (long overdue) call; little projects around the house or yard; reading a good book.

And, of course, there’s the Psalm 16:8 option: setting the Lord always before me.

What would my life be like if God touched my mind as frequently as I touch my phone—or if I  gave some of my screen time-turned-free time to the Lord?

What about you?

What do you keep 'always before you'?

Any idea how much screen time you get each day? Or how many times you pick up the phone?

What else could you use some of that time for?

How do you normally ‘set the Lord before you’?

Do you do it “always,” without ceasing, constantly, habitually giving your attention back to God in those moments between moments (or even during them), the way we constantly, habitually reach for our phones?

If you, like me, don’t ‘set the Lord always before you’, how can you start practicing and gradually getting yourself into a new habit of giving God more time and attention? What kind of tools, reminders, or role models might help you? Who could you ask to encourage you and hold you accountable to your new goals?

Breaking current habits to form new ones isn’t easy. But, in this case, it may be absolutely vital for your spiritual health, for your connection to Christ, and for your service to the world around you.

So what’s step one?

WARNING: OFFERING PLATES ARE MENTIONED

“Everyone should give whatever they have decided in their heart. They shouldn’t give with hesitation or because of pressure. God loves a cheerful giver.” – 2 Corinthians 9:7

You may have heard that last line before: “God loves a cheerful giver.” In context, Paul’s trying to convince the Corinthians to support a collection for needy believers in Jerusalem, but today you’re likely to hear it quoted in a church stewardship campaign or right before the plates get passed on a Sunday morning.

I was reminded of that line recently. During the summer months, when a lot of our normal ushers are in and out with vacations and other trips, the church I serve will often just set the offering plates on tables near the sanctuary doors, where you can place a donation as you’re coming or going. There’s also a musical interlude in the service when anyone could carry an offering over to a plate.

And my girls just love that.

Emily will hand them each a bill, to get them used to the idea of giving to the church, and they’ll scurry over to deposit it in the plate. But then they skip back to the pew and demand more. So, she scrapes the bottom of her wallet for any more cash or any coins she can find (we’re Millennials—we don’t carry physical money around!), and then they dash to the plate again. One time, they returned to the pew elated, pleading for more, and make a third run. Buzzing around the sanctuary, participating in the service, handling real, grown-up money, they just eat all of that up.

They’re the most cheerful givers I’ve ever seen. And I have no doubt God loves it as much as they do.

Once, Jesus was asked who was greatest in his Kingdom. The disciples were often jockeying for glory like that. But when Jesus answered them, he didn’t pick one of the disciples. Instead, he called over some little kid, and he said, “I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you’ll never enter the kingdom.” (Matt 18:3) Then he answered their question: “anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom.” (18:4) It sounds to me like Jesus is saying that we could learn a lot about how to serve the Lord and follow him from kids.

Like, say, the sheer joy of participating in a service of worship and the overflowing cheer of giving.

In Christ’s eyes, that’s a truly great thing. God just loves it. And some of us in Pascagoula got to witness a sermon on it from two cute little experts this summer.

May we all have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Listen to the devotional right here! 

When Christians Fight

I heard a wise pastor say once that the problem is not that Christians fight—it’s that we don’t fight like Christians.

There’s a passage from Colossians chapter 3 that I like to read at weddings:

As God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (3:12-14)

I like to read this at weddings because you will never share a happy, fulfilling lifetime with another person without compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, and love. And in any relationship, humility about our own mistakes, compassion for the other person’s position, love that’s willing to take the L for someone else—these heart habits can always take the edge off of times of tension and conflict.

But when Christians crash into some point of bitter disagreement, whether it’s over interpretations of scripture, church finances, things going on in the nation, or divisive public figures, do we respond to each other with gentleness? How about patience? Humility?

When we fight, do we fight like Christians?

Or think about another popular scripture reading for weddings services, from 1 Corinthians 13:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. (13:4-5)

When there’s a conflict between Christians or within a congregation, are we easily angered? Do we keep a record of all the ways someone has wronged us? (You know, all those grievances you air when you’re in the car by yourself?)

Of course, even though Paul is writing about Christians living together in the Church, these words apply just as well to our lives together outside of church: with our friends, co-workers, parents, spouses, kids. (That’s why we read them at weddings!) Disagreement and conflict are unavoidable. However, you and I can dramatically alter the outcome of a dispute by changing our behavior in the middle of it. The key is approaching those moments committed, above anything else, to the kind of Christlike love Paul’s talking about here.

Because the real problem isn’t that Christians fight: it’s that we don’t fight like Christians.

We fight just like the rest of the world.

You can listen to this week's devotional below:

Informed... or Opinionated?

Photo by Brian McGowan on Unsplash

Do you check the news every day?

Maybe you keep cable news on in the background while you’re at home, or watch the videos your friends share on Facebook, or just scan some headlines on your phone or in the paper each morning.

Staying informed is good. We need to know about things happening in our local community, the actions of our elected officials at the state and national levels, and situations happening around Mississippi, the US, and the world where Christians could be a blessing. The news is important.

But, if you’re like me, staying informed isn’t the only thing—or maybe even the biggest thing—that you get from the news.

Because so much of what passes for news today is really pundits’ commentary, it’s easy to come away with just a little more information but a lot more opinions. Opinions about who’s right (us), who’s wrong (them), about what to celebrate (our thing), what to be furious about (their thing), about who’s telling the truth (our side), and who's lying (their side). The talking heads don’t always do a great job of informing us, but they are great at telling us who are the “good guys” and who are the “bad guys.” And we can come away more entrenched, more suspicious, angrier, and more smug.

That is dangerous stuff for Christians.

It’s dangerous, for starters, because none of that is going to help you love your neighbors more. But it’s also dangerous because that whole us-versus-them outlook will have you courageously and passionately fighting the wrong battles.

The commentators will tell us that certain people are our enemies, yet scripture tells us that, “We aren’t fighting against human enemies but against rulers, authorities, forces of cosmic darkness, and spiritual powers of evil in the heavens.” (Eph 6:12) The enemies that we should be focused on aren’t our neighbors—they are the powers of darkness out to separate us from God and destroy our souls. (Think the devil and demons, though the Bible mentions others, too.) These spiritual forces are also out to get those very neighbors you’re butting heads with. In fact, sometimes conflicts with Christians are what they will use to push people farther away from God.

Don’t allow the worldly squabbles that the pundits are so preoccupied with to consume you and distract you from the real enemies and the real battle. It’s not a coincidence that the very next verse in Ephesians 6 says to “put on the full armor of God” (6:13). Truth, righteousness, faith—we’re going to need it all to overcome the temptations, lies, and challenges being hurled at us.

But your neighbors, whom Jesus has called you to love and be a witness to, they desperately need you to overcome.

Listen to this week's devotional right here: