It’s been heartbreaking to watch the conflict in Ukraine. Our hearts break as we’ve watched the suffering caused by a delusional despot wreaking havoc on innocent civilians. Those citizens include many believers and churches. Amid the senseless shelling, the blasts, the refugee crisis at their borders, the hour-by-hour toll of warfare on the people of Ukraine, we have also seen a picture of courage, determination and relentless tenacity.   

And there are lessons to be learned. We’ve seen the difference between true leadership in Zalinsky and an irrelevant, brutal, narcissistic insanity in Putin. The contrast could not be greater. One of the great quotes that we’ll never forget, came when US officials offered safe passage to Zalinski from the missel torn city of Kyiv. When he received the offer, his answer was legendary: “The fight is here. I need ammunition not a ride.” This terse response symbolically reflects the sentiment of every leader that is invested in the mission. Zalinski communicated that the mission was worth living for and even dying for. Against the Goliath of Russia, he stood ready for the fight rather than for the next flight out to Berlin. 

When I heard that statement, I thought about those who have gone before us and have left everything on eternity’s battlefield. Lottie Moon, Jim Elliot, J. Hudson Taylor, Bertha Smith and the thousands of others that sacrificed everything for the sake of Christ. Even now, we have missionaries all over the world who are in difficult spaces fighting a spiritual war for souls. The bombs can’t be heard with human ears but the battle just as real. We carry the banner of the Gospel in an ever-darkening world. We are surrounded by the enemy. 

Like President Zalinsky, I hope we never want a ride. I pray, as Southern Baptists, we aren’t looking to enter safe spaces far from the battle. I pray for our missionaries in difficult harvest fields in Tennessee, North America and around the world who are rescuing people even today. They aren’t asking for a ride out of the spiritual conflict, they just need ammunition. We are honored to forward the ammunition they need through the Cooperative Program. Of course, the ammunition they need aren’t javelin missals, long guns or drones. They conquer Satan’s minions through the love of Jesus. We get to be a part of the story through the funds we send to further the mission. Thank you, Tennessee Baptists for your gifts through the Cooperative Program. Our enemy is formidable, but our victory is certain. Let’s not grow weary in giving or going to where the action is—the harvest field. 

Annie Johnson Flint’s life declares the greatness of God in the midst of confusion and pain. She was orphaned as a baby. She lived in a home that bordered on poverty and spent her days as a caregiver to her adopted mother who suffered from a number of strokes. In midlife, she also fell ill and spent most of her remaining years crippled, bed-ridden, dealing with depression and chronic pain. How could God glorify Himself in all her unanswered prayers, suffering and depression? While most would look at her life and ask this question, Annie focused on all God was doing as she in the midst of every challenge she faced. She didn’t hide her pain. Instead she chose to be an encouragement to the small community around her. Because of her faith, he gave grace to her and through her life believers have sung her testimony for well over 100 years.  In one stanza her life became a wellspring of encouragement to those who face adversity, pain and the anomaly of illness:

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,

When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,

When we reach the end of our hoarded resources

Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

I think about her life and I hear this song in the middle of my own questions about suffering. I must trust the same God Annie trusted. He is enough for today’s struggles and tomorrow’s crucibles. He was enough for her. He is enough for us. 

It’s hard to believe it’s been almost 4 years since I wrote this in my father’s hospital room. I reflect now on the grace of God as he carried us all through this transition. If you want to read more about our families journey. My blog that I created back then is still live. walkingthemhome.com

We are waiting at the station with Dad,

metaphorically of course.

We can hear the whistle of the train.

We don’t know how far away it is.

But eventually it will arrive.

He has no baggage.

No one does at this station

but he knows the Engineer.

His body, weak and weary from the journey…

but this will be the last for him.

A rendezvous with bliss.

He has no appetite for the food here.

He speaks in mumbled whispers and sings short lingering tones.

And we are waiting by the station.

Even as the days pass, the exits are closed

He’s entered a place where only boarding passengers can be… to wait

But I see him through distant glassy eyes.

I know he’s in there.

Waiting, hoping, weeping, silently

until the tickets are torn and He waves to us and sallies forth into the great glass, darkly…

face to Face.

AUTHOR of my everything, my story A to Z

BRIGHT AND MORNING STAR above, my blinded eyes can see

COMFORTER of weary souls, COMPANION of the lost

DELIVERER, DEFENDER despite the cruel cost

EXALTED ONE who stooped to save, found in a humble place

FAITHFUL ONE of Glory who came to me in grace

GUARDIAN of my destiny, GOD in flesh and bone

HEALER of my solitude, I never walk alone.

INTERCESSOR standing tall, speaking for me, still.

JEHOVAH God creator, with hands of grace and skill

KING of all the universe, immortal God of love

LORD in every circumstance, watching from above

MAN OF SORROWS, MIGHTY ONE who came to seek and save

NAZARENE of providence whose life He freely gave

ONE AND ONLY Sacrifice, The lamb upon a cross

PIERCED for my transgression, my gain found in His loss

QUIET ONE, a still small voice, whispering His plan

RABBI in my ignorance, Redeemer,

SON OF MAN

TREE OF LIFE, evergreen, The fruit of holiness

UNFAILING LOVE, UNENDING JOY, and UNBRIDLED BLISS

VICTOR of my battles. He fought to set me free.

WARRIOR like none other, battling for me.

X-RAY of the human heart, a restorer from the fall

YESHUA, redeemer

ZENITH of it all…

Don’t you need Him?  Reach out to Him this day and you’ll see that He’ll give you everything your wounded soul craves.

Because He’s everything…

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.

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.