It happened at the start of my first year of junior high school. My dad got a new job in another state and so the week before school started, we were moving. The great thing about this move was that in the middle of the chaos, I was shuffled off to my grandparents so far into the sticks that I couldn’t be contacted to move a single box. My grandparents lived in a little house in the woods of central Louisiana, complete with a ten-acre pond and a cousin nearby.  The day before school was our last day to fish and so we rose up early. In a crude boat made of a tractor tire and a metal tub, (Yes, I share the DNA of Larry the Cable Guy.) we navigated our way through the dead trees rooted throughout the pond. Then something unexpected happened. We hit a stump filled with yellow jackets. The swarm would rival the plagues of Egypt. My cousin and I both dove out of the boat and into the pond. The result was very visible. The yellow jackets bit what they could: my head. I looked like the Elephant Man with measles. And the next day was the first day at the new school in a new town and a new address. As fate would have it, I was transported across the state by my grandmother who dropped me off directly at the school where my hideous head would be the talk of everyone in the 7^th grade. In fact, I still have a few tiny scars on my forehead today.

After school, I rode the bus home, but I had forgotten the address. So, as I remember it, I just took a stab at where to get off and spent the next hour trying to muster the courage to knock on a stranger’s door and ask to phone home.  Looking like E.T., it seemed to be the right course of action. It was the worst day of my life up to that point.

But one thing good came from it. Years later I’d have a story to share when my kids experienced humiliation. I not only could say, “Wow, that’s got to be tough.” I could say, “I know how you feel.” First day of middle school is bad. Looking like a Halloween mask on the first day of school? Well, there had to be some use for that day. 

I think that’s really the beauty of the Gospel. When I’m in a really dark place, Jesus doesn’t just sympathize and say, “Wow, that’s got to be tough.” I can sense Him pointing to the cross that’s hanging on the kitchen wall and saying, “I know how you feel.” And that, my brothers and sisters, is good news. 

Do you remember her? Our rhetoric was imperfect, but there were guardrails in the grooves of our brain that kept us from the dregs of profanity. Do you remember the America where leaders respected each other, in spite their differences?

I miss the trust that people had in each other’s decency, when we bolstered our resiliency instead of dark conspiracy. Somewhere over the past few years, we’ve emboldened our rage. We’ve taken down the lines of demarkation between dignity and disgust.

We’ve ignored our values. For years as a nation, we haven’t valued the holiness of life. We still haven’t turned that page. But would we actually keep kids in a cage?

I miss the days when name-calling was considered taboo. And tweets from birds were all the tweets that we knew. I miss the dignity of her voice. I miss the power of a rigorous, thoughtful, respectful debate. Yes, I miss those days, and I wonder if she’ll ever rediscover her grace. Her respect for humanity. Her fear of Divinity. But the strides of the enemy seems to have quickened the pace of injustice.

I guess the thing I miss the most is truth. It’s all about who can scream the loudest. You can’t seem to win without hyperbole. We’ve lost our scruples, our trust and our dignity.

I miss the prayers. I miss the hope. I miss the church before is was commandeered by debates over masks and political fears.

Perhaps our incivility simmered underground and it had been there all along. But today, we are in a nation where the fever of hate is raging and no elected official can soothe her.
I still believe in the high-minded, winsome experiment called America. Maybe we can change. But frankly, right now everything seems scattered. Shattered.
I miss the America I knew.

“I hear what you’re saying about sharing my faith but I have an allergic reaction to it, I break out in a cold sweat when I even think about prying my way into somebody’s eternal destiny and trying to get them to do what they need to do.” 

For many believers, the term “evangelism” evokes visions of awkward unexpected home visits, feelings of intimidation and inadequacy, and a fair amount of nervousness. But evangelism can be a joyful adventure and the greatest thing believers will ever accomplish in their lives. Don’t get me wrong. Street witnessing and cold-calling evangelism are amazingly effective and inspiring, but every believer can do a few simple, creative, proactive things to exercise their relational and sharing muscles. Here are some easy sure-fire ways every member of your church can share their faith in a totally nonthreatening way. 

1. Video your faith story using your smart phone and post it on social media. The video should be no longer than 2 minutes and can be a simple explanation for how you became a Christ-follower and how it’s changed the trajectory of your life. If someone is camera shy, invite them to write their story as a post on Facebook. At the end of the post or the video, explain how someone can begin their faith journey by praying to ask Jesus to be the Lord of their life.

• Invite members to have Gospel conversations. Many church members may shy away when you talk evangelism, but the idea of Gospel conversations seems like a more realistic goal for them.  So, what is a Gospel conversation? It’s fairly obvious.  It’s listening, asking questions and relating the Gospel. Ultimately, we are challenging people to place their trust in Jesus.  Jesus illustrated this time after time. His evangelism happened organically and situationally. John Meador says “Training believers to have gospel conversations with their friends, neighbors and co-workers must be one of the top priorities for pastors and leaders today.^[1]  Sam Greer, pastor of Red Bank Baptist Church, in Chattanooga, Tennessee has a unique way of motivating his church to have Gospel conversations. In their worship center, they have plexiglass display that has Jesus written on the front of it. Inside are white ping pong balls and red ping pong balls inside. The white represents every Gospel conversation people in their church have had. The red ones represent someone who came to Christ. Every time a gospel conversation or a salvation occurs, members are invited to drop a ping pong ball into the display. In one year, they recorded over 1900 gospel conversations. 

• Challenge church members to adopt their block for the Gospel. We can all get to know by name the families in walking distance of our homes. Offer assistance. Give gifts on special occasions. Host a barbeque or a game viewing party. Show up at the hospital when a health crisis happens. As we do life with our neighbors, we will earn their attention and ultimately, we’ll get a chance to share the Gospel with them. A little investment goes a long way in being heard when you start to share things of eternal significance.

• Challenge your people to practice sharing the Gospel on a friend who is not a believer. The invitation would go something like this: “My church is asking me to practice sharing my spiritual story with someone. Could I buy your lunch? And would you allow me to practice sharing my story?”Recently, I’ve heard testimonies of people who came to faith in Jesus through this simple, non-threatening invitation. 

• Finally, practice prayer-paration. We all know people who are without the hope of Jesus. Above health issues, financial hardships, and personal issues, our unbelieving friends should be at the top of the church prayer list. I know that the more I pray for someone, the more courageous I will become in sharing Jesus. Ultimately, we can’t save anyone. But we know the One who can. Let’s challenge the church to have a list of people, we’d love to reach for Christ. 

As we pray, share, give and go, we have to encourage each other to go to where the people are. It really is Good News. In fact, the gospel is the greatest news on the planet. When people in your church are challenged to share their faith, stories about evangelism and Gospel conversations will stoke the fire and increase the hunger to see more people come to trust Jesus. There’s really nothing better to create excitement, ease tensions, and grow a church than a group of people committed to sharing and celebrating this great news. 

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^[1] https://www.namb.net/your-church-on-mission-blog/the-gospel-conversation-crisis/

Lord, I ask that Thou giveth me:

the strength of the elephant and the lightness of a butterfly

the patience of a snail and the speed of a jaguar

the playfulness of a monkey and the stubborn faithful plodding of an ass

the eyes of an eagle and the discernment of a bat

the roar of a lion and the song of a lark

the reach of a giraffe and the tenacity of a badger

the toughness of a turtle and the tenderness of a lamb

the stillness of a possum and ingenuity of the beaver

the loyalty of a retriever and the humility of the worm.

We were born with a deep sense of eternity. 

It’s inside us

It’s echoes through our doubts and struggles for meaning and hope

But we must ask… IS this life all that there really is? Or are we shaped and formed by a living God

There’s too much beauty, too much wonder, too much extravagance for a simplistic and crude explanation that everything around us is merely accidental… Like pottery his hands crafted this world in all its beauty and symmetry. 

It’s a portrait of a present and active God lovingly desiring a connection with his creation.

Through wars, chaos, injustice and disease

He’s been reaching out. 

The problem is that the bridge was broken between the creator and his creation.

But the Bible also writes that God’s perfect son was born and lived a perfect life.

Jesus showed us how to live and then he died as a sacrifice for our sin.

God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in his son Jesus will not die but will have eternal life. 

What we’ve earned is death, but the gift God gives to those who believe is eternal life. It’s not religion, it’s not legalism, it’s not performance. It’s grace.

No matter who you are, where you’ve been, or what you’ve done. You’ve been invited to this table of His grace.  

So would you pray this prayer.

Father God, I am in need of forgiveness and belonging. I believe that your Son came into this world, lived a perfect life and paid the death penalty for my sin. I accept the gift of being a part of your family. Thank you for the eternal life you offer. I lay everything down at your feet. Forgive me, wash me clean and take me in.

If you’ve prayed that prayer we want to welcome you into a family. That’s the big story. We’d love to help you connect with a church where you can grow in your faith. The real adventure begins today.  

We are all unwilling recluses.

We know the trifles of distraction

that pull us away from the tethers of reality

In the morning, we wake from restless sleep and fearful understanding

the darkness covers and we cry in the GethseMany of our aloneness.

And we taste the same legions of despair.

There will be a time of feasting, but for now we are alone.

We must taste this food of a hundred days lost

Trust the Father

Wash the hands and feet of the beloved- even if the chasm

brings bewilderment with consolations few.

We will set our course away from the high wind of desolation

toward the disambiguating light of our great Hope.

Our (dis)ease is alienation

Our hope

redemption’s release

All was well in the Amish community in Lancaster Pennsylvania until a deranged man mercilessly shot 10 Amish girls and then turned the gun on himself in 2006. How did they respond to this shocking loss? Amazingly, the Amish community didn’t blame. Instead, they reached out with grace and compassion toward the killer’s family. They understood the importance of forgiveness, not for the killer’s sake. He was dead. But for themselves. Why? Because living in unforgiveness is debilitating. 

Most of us will not have to endure that depth of offense. Most bitter people didn’t become a bitter person through the act of a single dagger. Most bitter people are dying from a thousand paper-cuts. The girl that rejected him… The backroom deal in the company that cost him a promotion… The humiliation experienced years ago from a father’s rage… Whether we can reconcile the relationship or not, we must forgive. 

We get stuck. We fantasize about vindication. We look at relationships surrounding the offense with malice. We cling to bitterness as our beverage of choice. We talk about it to people who have no business hearing of it. We dream about going back, doing things differently, saying something more damaging, or avoiding the offense. For many, this becomes a lifestyle that poisons every relationship they enter. It’s insidious. 

Jesus is clear on this. In order to be forgiven, you must forgive. That’s easy to say but hard to do. And yet this is a primary hallmark of Christian manhood. It’s a heart issue. Who knows? Forgiveness might just save your life.

“He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass.” – George Herbert

We are all connected through mothers- somehow, some way. Jesus was no different in that way. It all began with an angelic message.

“Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”

But this announcement began a journey of stratospheric highs and deep unspeakable lows. 

A long 75-mile journey to Bethlehem. Mary’s cry of childbirth was heard in the dust of an ancient land. Passing shepherds, children, and farmers on the journey- a mysterious dance into the future of redemption.

Can you feel her joy and pain as she brings Jesus to the temple and she hears the words of Simeon saying: 

“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Can you feel the sadness of a Mother, reminded once again that this blessing would bring:

heartbreak,

reproach,

fear,

uncertainty,

amazement?

…moments where life seemed to spin wildly out of control.

We see Mary sheltering her baby from the sword of an angry demonic ruler named Herod, demanding to kill all the babies two and under in Bethlehem in order to rid himself of the King to be. Mary was a warrior.

A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Can you hear the wails of those young mothers? Their dreams dashed in moments. God knows the hearts of motherhood destroyed.  Dreams never to come true… 

God knew. 

The burden of emptiness. 

The shattering of hopes.

Mary’s son would be spared, but only for a season.  A cross waited for her Son too.   But still He was Mary’s boy.

They were oblivious to His words in the temple.  They lost Him and had no idea where to find Him.  Can you imagine their anxiety!  Not in Walmart, not in the mall.  Jesus was lost in a huge city, no phone, no Amber Alert.

And then they found Him.  “Where have you been!  I’ve looking all over for you!” 

And then those words- 

both amazing and astonishing … 

Words that would break her heart in some deep maternal way: 

“Why were you searching for Me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”

Perhaps at that moment, Mary- the mother of Jesus was reminded of the reasons wise men bowed before the cradle and angels serenaded shepherds on the outskirts of Bethlehem.

But certainly, for a mom, it brought at least a small twinge of sadness.  Besides, He was still Mary’s little boy.

There came a time after thirty years of rough hands and splinters, a carpenter left home for war.  It was the war of the ages.

But there’s little doubt that the war was fought on the home front for Mary.  Motherhood is also about letting go. It’s so hard to take in that God would give women such a powerful connection to their children and then ask then to step away.

And that’s what Mary did for three years. We see her briefly in flashes of the story of Jesus ministry.

Insignificant in comparison to some-  but she’s there.

We see her at the world’s greatest coming out party when Jesus and His followers attended a wedding. Mary, the mother of Jesus tells the servants:  

 “Whatever He tells you to do… just do it. “

Then the water was poured and the wine flowed graciously.

But she understood, no doubt, that she was not the center of the story.  Great mothers are like that, aren’t they? They are like a ghostwriters of masterpieces. Mothers stray from the limelight and paint their canvass to the glory of God in secret and alone.

Every parent wants to keep their child from harm. That’s something that God built within us.  It’s scary.

And she heard the venom of a scoffers calling out with their hatred. Their lies burned her ears. 

He who knew no sin became sin on our behalf.  

And the mother that fed Him, changed Him, rocked Him to sleep, helped Him learn to walk on His own, nursed his scrapes, could now only watch Him die.

She was there and Mary watched her son’s breathing on that cross, the final moments of agony, as she looked at Him there. We can imagine her mind racing back to those moments as a two year old- Jesus sleeping on His tummy, the back rising and falling with each breath He took.

We understand this dangerous truth:  That the choices we make are given meaning by the things we lose in the process.

And then those words…  Woman behold your son. Son behold your mother.

And then He died. 

I can only imagine the grief.  As they took His broken, lifeless body down from the cross. The anger of her Son destroyed, mocked, rejected, a felon called Barabbas was preferred over her Boy.

No doubt Mary went through the grief any mother would experience.  Like the scene from Steel Magnolias…

I’m fine! I can jog all the way to Bethlehem and back and back, but my son can’t! Oh God! I am so mad I don’t know what to do! I wanna know why! I wanna know why. Oh God I wanna know WHY? Why? Lord, I wish I could understand!

 No! No! No! It’s not supposed to happen this way! I’m supposed to go first. I’ve always been ready to go first!

Jesus?

creator

King of every king

and yet this was Mary’s boy.

blood spilled grace on me

and still Mary’s boy

piercing your heart,

Mary,

to save me.

Forsaking you?

and His kingdom?

for me.

What a terrible loss you suffered!

to watch this One you fed,

changed,

embraced?

carried,

protected, and nourished

now condemned to bear

nails and thrones

whips and shame

so that we could all come to the table.

and face the Gethsemane of every broken generation!

He cried for his Daddy as the sunset brought shadows on the edge of town.

You had others

but that night

He was your only Boy.

When we signed up to be a mom or dad, we signed up to fight the same battle. That’s what makes parenthood so scary. The same evil that drove Jesus to the cross is the one who causes evil, destruction, disease and pain.  We live in such uncertainty and yet we can know for sure. We are barren in and of ourselves and yet there is one that gives us hope in the midst of our barrenness.

Yes, there is the EVIL one.

There is one that sends prodigals running to far countries and wild parties filled with the winds of destruction and the seductive storm of consequence. But there is another—The Redeemer– that brings them home.

In the midst of our pain, our struggle, our hurt and our desolation. Joy rises and we find the strength to bear under the weight of extraordinary scenarios.

In this life, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the Name of the Lord. 

Take comfort in the One who tells us not to worry. We can become greatly troubled when our lives are in the spin cycle of God’s redemptive plan. Even in the midst of tears, tragedy, and loss we can celebrate through tears knowing that the story is not over, our lives are in his hands. I’ve always said.  “I don’t like surprises. It’s a character flaw I’ve dealt with for years. I want to know what’s around the corner but life isn’t like that,. We just don’t know. But can I just say this:  The real juice of life is in the not knowing. A young girl named Mary learned this truth.

This Christmas I’m recording very brief advent devotionals beginning December first all the way to Christmas. You can listen to them on the site or you subscribe to the “Scattered Feast” podcast on I-tunes, Spotify, or Stitcher,.