“So, what’s shaken’ down there?” Gabe asked Raphael, a seasoned guardian of an American church. 

“Looks like they’ve gathered to worship,” Raphael said as he squinted down at the entrance. 

“What’s that lady carrying in? Looks like some kind of package,” Gabe asked

“Probably a casserole,” came the matter-of-fact response.

“A casserole?”

“Must be having a special ‘something-or-other’ after worship.”

Gabe tilted his head, confused. “So, this is what they call worship?” Gabe had been assigned to the churches in Asia, where they worship secretively. So, it was a little startling to see that big cross and that sign out there in front of God and everybody. 

“No pastors getting whisked away to sketchy tribunals? No believers getting disappeared?” He paused, taking in the half-empty parking lot. “So, you mean to tell me they’re free to worship? No restrictions? Crowd seems a little on the lighter side.”

“Well, they have more options over here. They can stream, listen to other pastors, or get the highlights on TikTok. Plus, YouTube is full of pastors that are, according to them, more viral. I think they’re just used to worship. They’re comfortable with it all, and they just want to come whenever it fits into their plan.”

“Really?”

“I’m not kidding. I’ve been watching over this church for years. Lots of churches in North America are like this. It’s more of a social thing.”

Their conversation was interrupted by raised voices from the church steps. “Hey, look over there! That guy looks pretty upset.”

Raphael sighed. “I expected this. It’s been boiling for quite some time now.”

“What’s been boiling?”

“This feud. It started on X. Those two guys have been egging each other on for weeks. They’re all in a fuss over the church finances.” 

Gabe’s eyes widened. “That church has money?”

“Of course. This is America, the richest nation in the world. The church even pays its leaders.”

“Wow!”

But it’s deeper than that. This church is filled with people who are all focused on all the MAGA controversies, still arguing about Covid, where it came from, lots of other stuff too, Epstein files, whatever…”

As they watched the congregation settle into their cushioned chairs, Gabe grew restless. “I can’t wait to see what worship is like. When does it start?”

“It already has.”

Gabe observed the scene below with growing bewilderment. “That’s worship? Everyone’s watching. Nobody’s doing anything!”

“They’re tired. They’re a very busy group: travel ball, fellowships, their jobs, their hobbies and Netflix rolled out three new limited series. It’s a lot,” Raphael explained with practiced patience.

“Are they just going to sit there?”

“No, they’ll stand a time or two. With those padded chairs, I can’t say I’d blame them for sitting.”

The singing began, and Gabe listened intently. “Who’s the guy with the mic?”

“That’s the band leader. He leads them in a kind of group karaoke. They follow along on the screens.”

Gabe squinted down at the stage. “Nice wings on his tattoo, though. Quite impressive artwork.”

The service continued, and when someone came to the microphone, Gabe leaned forward expectantly. “Finally, they’re praying!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, they don’t really pray much. Hardly ever in private… Prayer closets are rare and prayer meetings are filled with lots of medical jargon. This is the extent of being ‘prayed up’ for most of them”

As the service wound down, Gabe looked at the empty tank behind the stage. “I guess that’s the baptistry.”

“Right. It broke a couple of years ago. Something with the plumbing went haywire but they don’t really miss it anyway.”

Raphael studied his companion’s troubled face and asked, “What do you think happened to them?”

“Kind of a Laodicea situation?” Gabe observed.”

“Right. No passion. No change. Just check the box and get back home before the game.”

“If only they could have seen what we saw in the first few centuries of the church.”

“Or even the Christians across the ocean who face persecution right now .”

As the service concluded and people began filtering out, chatting casually about weekend plans and rating the sermon, Raphael yawned and said, “Gabe, I miss the days when things were cookin’ in America and I’m not talking casseroles.”

“Sorry, bud. You’ve got a tough assignment,” Gabe said empathetically. “Well, I’d better head to our division staff meeting. We just got prayed into some new assignments from believers in Nepal, Bangkok, Tehran, and Bogota.”

“You always get to go to where the action is. I’m stuck with Americans impressing each other on Instagram.”

“Hang in there, Raphy. Things could turn on a dime here. All it takes is a remnant.” Gabe said as he patted Raphael on the back.

“I hope so. It’s been a while,” Raphael said to himself gravely as he watched Gabe disappeared into the evening sky. 

There’s a thought experiment that haunts me: What would happen if we took the Bible seriously? Not just as a collection of inspiring stories or moral guidelines, but as the actual Word of God that should fundamentally reshape how we live, love, and engage with the world around us.

The primary foundation of any authentic faith movement should be “Believing the Bible as the Word of God.” But here’s the radical part—what if we actually lived like we believed it?

Love Without Borders

When Jesus said “love your enemies,” He wasn’t speaking metaphorically or offering a gentle suggestion for our consideration. He was laying down a revolutionary principle that should make the church the most confounding institution on earth. Imagine if we actually loved everybody—even our enemies—to such an extent that our enemies would look at the church and say, “Wow, those crazy people love me!”

This isn’t the sanitized, comfortable love we often practice within our church walls. This is the kind of love that crosses political lines, racial boundaries, and ideological divides. It’s the love that makes people scratch their heads and wonder what on earth has gotten into us.

A Consistent Respect for Life

If we truly held a radical respect for life, our witness would become beautifully consistent. We’d fight as vehemently against the death penalty as we do against abortion. We’d recognize that being pro-life means protecting life at every stage, in every circumstance, without the convenient exceptions that align with our political preferences.

This consistent ethic of life would make us uncomfortable allies to many and perfect allies to none—which is exactly where the church should be when it’s truly following Christ rather than partisan politics.

Listening Like Jesus

Too often, we have become known more for winning debates than for loving people. But what if we listened to people the way Jesus listened to them? Instead of feeling compelled to win arguments and exclude those with opposing viewpoints, what if we created spaces where people felt heard, valued, and welcomed?

Jesus had this remarkable ability to make people feel seen and understood, even when He disagreed with their choices. He listened first, loved always, and let transformation happen naturally through relationship rather than through rhetorical conquest.

Seeing Christ in the Poor

The Bible is crystal clear about how we should treat poor people—as human representations of Christ Himself. Yet somehow we’ve managed to create elaborate theological justifications for why this doesn’t apply to our economic policies or personal generosity.

What if we actually believed that when we encounter someone in need, we’re encountering Jesus? How would that change our budget priorities, our voting patterns, our daily interactions with those society has pushed to the margins?

Going Instead of Staying

We’ve become remarkably comfortable with staying put, building bigger buildings, and creating more programs for ourselves. But Jesus called His followers to “go.” We should be more compelled to move toward the world’s pain than to retreat into our sanctuaries.

This doesn’t mean everyone needs to become a missionary, but it does mean the church should be fundamentally oriented outward rather than inward. We should be known more for what we’re bringing to the world than for what we’re protecting ourselves from.

Cleansing the Temple

Jesus didn’t just teach about spiritual purity—He grabbed a whip and drove the money changers out of the temple. Maybe it’s time for some serious temple self-cleansing programs to purge the church of widespread commercialism and politics.

What would it look like if our denominational leaders were seen more often with mops and wrenches than with microphones and marketing materials? What if they were known for their service rather than their strategies, their humility rather than their platforms?

New Heroes

Our heroes should once again be found in mud huts and rice fields half a world away instead of in corner offices and television studios. The people we celebrate should be those who are sacrificially loving the world rather than those who are successfully managing religious enterprises.

This isn’t to diminish the importance of leadership and organization, but rather to remember what we’re organizing toward and who we’re leading people to become.

A Little Holy Rebellion

And here’s where things get fun: for every preacher who tries to turn the church into a political organization, they should be fair game for wedgies. (Okay, maybe that’s taking it too far, but you get the point.)

The church loses its prophetic voice when it becomes an extension of any political party. We’re called to be a peculiar people, not a predictable voting bloc.

The Challenge

This vision might sound impossible, naive, or even dangerous to some. Good. The gospel has always been a little dangerous to the status quo. It’s always challenged comfortable arrangements and safe assumptions.

The question isn’t whether this kind of radical faith is practical or politically expedient. The question is whether it’s biblical. And if it is—if this is what it actually means to believe the Bible as the Word of God—then maybe it’s time to stop making excuses and start making changes.

What would your church look like if it actually believed? What would your life look like? What would the world think of a church that loved this radically, served this consistently, and believed this authentically?

Maybe it’s time to find out.

Remember the movie “A Bug’s Life”? If you have kids, you’ve probably watched it countless times—children love repeating their favorite films over and over. In that animated classic, a colony of ants lives in constant terror of the grasshoppers who swoop in like a plague, devouring everything in sight. The ants cower and hide, always wondering when the next attack will come, living their lives in fear of when the enemy will return.

This vivid picture perfectly captures the situation we find in Judges 6, where the Israelites faced their own version of grasshoppers—the Midianites. Just like those animated ants, God’s people were hiding in caves and strongholds, paralyzed by fear, never knowing when their enemies would strike next.

Fear has a way of making us feel small. Whether it’s that uncomfortable meeting with the boss or facing circumstances that seem insurmountable, we all know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed and inadequate. Yet within each of us—regardless of our perceived weaknesses—lies a warrior that God sees and wants to use.

The story of Gideon in Judges 6-7 reveals a profound truth: God doesn’t see us the way we see ourselves. He sees the warrior within, even when we’re cowering in fear, much like those frightened ants who would eventually discover their own courage.

When Fear Takes Hold

The Israelites found themselves in a desperate cycle that feels all too familiar. They had rebelled against God, leading to isolation, then bondage under their enemies, the Midianites. Like locusts, these enemies would swoop in and destroy everything the Israelites had worked for, leaving them hiding in caves and strongholds.

This cycle—rebellion, isolation, bondage—mirrors patterns we see in our own lives. When we distance ourselves from God, we often find ourselves isolated from others as well. That isolation creates a void we try to fill with other things: alcohol, drugs, pornography, or countless other substitutes for the soul connection that only Jesus can provide.

But there’s hope in this cycle. When we reach the end of ourselves, when we cry out to the Lord in our helplessness, He is faithful to respond with deliverance.

The Unlikely Warrior

Enter Gideon—hardly the picture of a mighty warrior. We find him threshing wheat in a winepress, hiding from the very enemies God would soon call him to defeat. Yet when the angel of the Lord appeared to him, the greeting was startling: “The Lord is with you, you mighty man of valor.”

This reminds me of a personal experience that perfectly captures how God sees us differently than we see ourselves. During seminary, I worked as a jailer—a job I was completely unsuited for. I wasn’t tough, didn’t have the “spiritual gift” of being a jailer, and dreaded the day I had to get certified on the rifle range.

I’d never really shot a rifle before, except for hunting squirrels with my grandfather in Louisiana. Standing on that windy day in Fort Worth, Texas, watching these burly, experienced marksmen struggle to hit even one or two clay targets, I felt like Don Knotts—shaking with fear and nerves. I needed to hit seven out of twelve to get certified, but I just prayed to hit one so I wouldn’t be completely humiliated.

They called me “preacher boy” and saved me for last. As I stood there, rifle trembling in my hands, I whispered one more prayer: “Lord, just let me hit one.” The first clay target flew out, and somehow—boom—I hit it. Then the second. By the end, I was the only one to get certified that day, hitting eight out of twelve while seasoned marksmen looked on in amazement.

In that moment, I understood Gideon. I was the unlikely candidate, shaking in fear, yet God saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself. Just as the angel called Gideon “mighty man of valor” while he cowered in a winepress, God sees the warrior in us even when we feel most inadequate.

Gideon’s response reveals his mindset: doubt, questions, and complaints about God’s apparent absence. “If the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us?” he asked. Sound familiar? We often get stuck asking “why” when God wants to move us to “what”—what He’s calling us to do next.

Despite Gideon’s protests about being from the weakest clan and the least in his family, God’s response was simple and powerful: “Surely I will be with you.” This phrase—”I will be with you”—might be the most powerful promise we can cling to. As the psalmist wrote, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

God’s Unconventional Strategy

When Gideon finally assembled an army, he gathered 32,000 men. But God said it was too many. After allowing the fearful to leave, 22,000 departed. Then, through an unusual test involving how the men drank water, God whittled the army down to just 300 men—less than 1% of the original force.

Why would God do this? Because when we rely on our own strength and resources, we get the glory. But when God uses the small, the broken, and the unlikely, everyone knows it had to be divine intervention.

God equipped these 300 men not with swords and shields, but with trumpets, empty jars, and torches. Hardly conventional weapons of war, yet they contained profound spiritual symbolism that would later be echoed by the apostle Paul.

Three Symbols of Spiritual Warfare

The Trumpet represents proclamation. Every time we speak the name of Jesus, we’re wielding the most powerful trumpet imaginable. Our testimony, our witness, our proclamation of Christ’s lordship—these are weapons that confuse and defeat the enemy.

The Jar symbolizes brokenness. Just as the men had to break their jars to reveal the light within, God must break us to use us effectively. Like bread broken to feed thousands, our brokenness becomes the means through which God’s power flows.

The Torch represents God’s glory. Hidden within the clay jars until the moment of revelation, the light points to the glory of God shining through fragile human vessels.

Centuries later, Paul would write in 2 Corinthians 4:5-7 about how we carry this treasure in jars of clay, making it clear that the power comes from God, not ourselves. Gideon lived this truth before Paul wrote it.

The Power of Unified Minority

Here’s a crucial principle: a unified minority always confuses the enemy. Satan thrives on division, schisms, and clicks within the church. But when a small group of people agrees together in the Lord, amazing things happen.

Those 300 men, following Gideon’s lead, surrounded the enemy camp. At the signal, they blew their trumpets, broke their jars, and revealed their torches, shouting “The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!” The resulting confusion caused the Midianite army to turn on itself.

Your Warrior Calling

What does this mean for us today? First, recognize that God sees the warrior in you, regardless of how inadequate you feel. You might be hiding in your own version of a winepress, but God is calling you a “mighty man [or woman] of valor.”

Second, remember that Jesus is with you. This simple truth can transform any situation. You may have lost your job, but Jesus is with you. You may be facing illness, but Jesus is with you. You don’t need anything else beyond this assurance.

Third, be willing to let God break you. Our brokenness isn’t something to hide from—it’s the very thing God uses to shine His light through us to a dark world.

Finally, don’t be overwhelmed by the size of the opposition. God doesn’t need an army of thousands when He has a few faithful people willing to follow His unconventional methods.

The same God who gave Gideon victory with 300 men and clay pots is ready to work through you today. The question isn’t whether you’re qualified—it’s whether you’re willing to let the warrior within step forward in faith, knowing that Jesus is with you.

Your winepress moment might just be the beginning of your greatest victory.

The grocery cart announced Jed’s arrival long before he came into view. The front-left wheel squealed with each rotation, a metallic protest that had become his signature sound in Legalville.

Jed didn’t notice the town’s pitiful glances. After fifteen years of collecting cans and bottles, he had perfected the art of being simultaneously visible and invisible. Visible enough that people would set aside their recyclables for him. Invisible enough that they wouldn’t feel obligated to engage.

His cardboard refrigerator box stood in the narrow alley between First National Bank and Trust and Renaldo’s Bar and Grill—another of life’s ironies that was lost on no one but Jed himself. Each night, he would carefully maneuver through the flap he’d cut as a door, settle onto his frayed sleeping bag, and count the day’s earnings. On good days, it might be enough for a can of generic dog food. On exceptional days, he might splurge on a dented can of beans from the discount shelf. This had been Jed’s life for so long that he couldn’t remember anything else. Legalville’s boundaries were the boundaries of his world, and the daily rhythm of collection and survival was the only song he knew.

Until Tuesday.

The man in the charcoal suit looked comically out of place standing before Jed’s cardboard home, his polished shoes reflecting the afternoon sun. He held a leather briefcase in one hand and a document in the other.

“Mr. Jedidiah Lawrence?” the man asked, squinting at the paper.

Jed froze, his cart half-filled with the morning’s findings. Nobody had called him by his full name in years. Most folks in town didn’t even know he had a last name.

“That’s me,” he answered cautiously.

“My name is Thomas Blackwell, attorney-at-law.” The man extended his hand, then awkwardly retracted it when Jed didn’t reciprocate. “I have some news that I believe will be of great interest to you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jed sat on an overturned milk crate, staring at the document in his dirty hands. The words blurred before his eyes, but the number remained crystal clear: $2,000,000.

“Your uncle, Gerald Lawrence, passed away last month. Having no children of his own, he left his considerable estate to your father. Since your father passed away last year, you are the sole heir.”

“Two million dollars,” Jed whispered.

“Indeed,” Thomas nodded. “The funds have already been transferred to an account in your name. This card,” he produced a shiny black rectangle, “gives you immediate access to your inheritance.”

The next few hours passed in a blur. Someone from the local newspaper got wind of the story, and suddenly Jed’s alley was filled with cameras and microphones. People who had walked past him for years were now hanging on his every word.

“What will you do with the money, Jed?” a reporter shouted over the crowd.

“Are you going to move out of Legalville?” asked another.

Jed looked at the eager faces surrounding him, then at his cardboard home. A slow grin spread across his face, revealing the three remaining teeth he possessed.

“I’ve got it all planned out,” he announced.

The crowd leaned in.

“First thing, I’m gonna buy some new cardboard. The good kind, thick and sturdy. Gonna rebuild this place proper-like.”

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Then,” Jed continued, warming to his subject, “no more generic dog food. I’m upgrading to the name brands! And Spam! Do you know how long it’s been since I had fried Spam for breakfast?”

A reporter stepped forward, microphone extended. “Jed, you understand you have two million dollars, right? You could buy a mansion. Travel the world. Never work another day in your life.”

Jed nodded enthusiastically. “That’s why I’m not stopping there. I’m getting plastic plates instead of paper ones! And the grocery store manager will sell me one of those big carts if I offer enough. Think of all the cans I could collect with a cart twice this size!”

The crowd fell silent.

“He doesn’t get it,” a woman whispered to her companion. “He just doesn’t get it.”

---

Jed’s story sounds absurd, doesn’t it? And yet many of us do exactly that.”

We have been given an inheritance beyond calculation. We are not distant relatives of royalty—we are children of the King himself. We have been transferred from one kingdom to another, from darkness to light. But how many of us are still pushing squeaky spiritual grocery carts through life? How many of us are settling for slightly better versions of our old existence rather than embracing the completely new life we’ve been given? The inheritance is already yours. The declaration has been made. But like Jed, many of us can’t look beyond our slum life into our new reality.

Your inheritance in Christ isn’t something you have to earn or deserve. It’s already yours—not because of anything you’ve done, but because of everything He has done.

The Father has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. He has rescued you from the dominion of darkness and brought you into the kingdom of His Son.

Today, you can choose to step out of your spiritual cardboard box. You can leave behind the dog food of the world. You can embrace your true identity and the unfathomable riches that are already yours in Christ.

Not because you’ve earned it.
Not because you deserve it.
But because you are loved.
And that makes all the difference.

“Giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves.” Colossians 1:12-13

My son, Jacob, asked me for my Red Beans and Rice Recipe. I didn’t give him the recipe like it was given to me. Otherwise it would sound something like this:

Lemme tell you how we do it way down da bayou, bébé.

First t’ing, you take dem red kidney beans, put ‘em in a big ol’ bowl. Cover dem beans wit’ water — ‘bout an inch or so over da top, yeah — an’ let ’em soak good overnight, let dem swell up nice an’ fat.

Come da nex’ day, you dump dem beans in da colander, rinse all dat dirt an’ bad mojo off. Den you slap ’em in a big ol’ pot, pour you a coupla cans dat red tomato sauce, maybe a lil’ splash water too, just to keep her from dryin’ out.

Now, when you runnin’ roun’ dat store, you peek in da frozen box — you gonna find dat Cajun seasonin’ mix, got da peppers an’ da onions all chopped nice. Dat’s easy, easy. But if dey ain’t got it, no sweat, cher — you just cut you up some big ol’ onions, some fat bell peppers, an’ don’ forget dat garlic, non! Dat garlic, she make da pot sing, yeah.

You track you down some good andouille sausage — not dat city stuff, get da good smokey kind, make your nose dance soon as it hit da pot. Throw it all in dere wit’ dem beans, turn dat fire down low, let it bubble, let it talk to you real slow, like a fiddle playin’ in da night.

When you t’ink maybe she ready, you take one dem beans, mash ’em ‘gainst da side o’ dat pot — if she smash all soft an’ creamy, dat’s da Holy Ghost tellin’ you it’s time, cher.

Some folk round here, dey don’t use no tomato sauce, mais I tell you straight — dat sauce, she give it da little extra somethin’ to make you slap ya mama, it’s so good.

When dem beans be ready, you heap you a big ol’ spoonful right on some fluffy white rice, yeah. An’ don’ be shy now — you splash a good bit o’ dat Tabasco sauce on top, spice it up real nice, make it dance on your tongue like a fais do-do on Saturday night, sha!

Dat’s how we cook it, true true. Now come pass a good time, yeah!

I have a confession: I have the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel. And when it comes to prayer, my mind tends to hop from branch to branch faster than you can say “Hey Siri.” I’m guessing I’m not the only one? If your prayer life sometimes feels like trying to meditate in the middle of a carnival, you’re in good company.

Over years of spiritual trial and error (mostly error), I’ve experienced five major blockades that keep me from connecting with God and discovered some practical hacks that have helped me overcome my distracted mind.

The 5 Blockades to Prayer (Or: Why My Prayer Time Could Look Like a Three-Ring Circus if I’m Not Careful)

1. Distraction and Busyness

Meanwhile, I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart with the Creator of the universe. Good luck with that, right? When my mind is racing through notifications, deadlines, and responsibilities, meaningful conversation with God feels nearly impossible. 

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

Apparently, God knew about our distraction problems long before smartphones. Being still is practically a superpower these days.

2. Guilt and Unworthiness

The moment—and I mean the exact moment—I enter my prayer time, a highlight reel of my failures starts playing in my head. It’s like my brain says, “Oh, you want to talk to your all-seeing Savior? Let’s first review all the reasons you’re not worthy!” This sense of unworthiness muffles my voice faster than a thick blanket.

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16)

The enemy wants me feeling too ashamed to pray because he knows that shame keeps me out of the throne room. As long as I feel unworthy, I’ll never boldly approach God.

3. Unanswered Prayers and Disappointment

I’ve been praying for some things for so long that I’m pretty sure my prayers have frequent flyer miles. When years pass without the answer I want, it’s tempting to think God isn’t listening, doesn’t exist, or (bringing us back to blockade #2) I’m just not worthy of an answer.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. (Isaiah 55:8)

It’s hard to remember that God isn’t a cosmic vending machine where I insert my quarters of faith and select which blessing I’d like dispensed. That’s just not how He operates.

4. Rigid Expectations About “Correct” Prayer

Sometimes I get so caught up in using the right words, praying at the right time, in the right position, with the right level of emotion that I forget God just wants me to talk to Him. When my ADD collides with my perfectionism, my prayer life is basically doomed.

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” (Romans 8:26)

Thank goodness the Holy Spirit can translate my jumbled thoughts because sometimes even I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

5. Spiritual Dryness and Doubt

There are seasons when my spiritual life feels like crossing the Sahara with a thimble of water. I lose my passion, feel unmoved by things that once broke my heart, and find myself more excited about the new season of my favorite show than about spending time with Jesus.

“Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 42:11)

Even David, a man after God’s own heart, experienced spiritual dryness. Those desert seasons can drive us further from the throne room if we let them.

20 Prayer Strategies for the Spiritually ADD

Now for the good part—what actually helps! Here are 20 different ideas and approaches that have strengthened my prayer life:

1. Create a Dedicated Prayer Space

I need a place where I can shut out the world and focus on God—a clean canvas for prayer. Nothing fancy, just a space that signals to my brain: “It’s God time now.”

“But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen.” (Matthew 6:6)

2. Start a Spiritual Journal

For the past five years, I’ve been writing down my prayers. It keeps my squirrel mind focused when I’m physically involved in the process. Plus, I can search back through old prayers and see how God has been working (which is great for those doubtful seasons).

“Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets.” (Habakkuk 2:2)

3. Practice Silence Before and After Prayer

Turns out, God wasn’t in the earthquake or fire for Elijah—He was in the “still small voice.” Finding silence takes effort in our noise-polluted world, but it’s worth it.

“After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” (1 Kings 19:12)

4. Use a Prayer Calendar

Strategic prayer helps when I feel spiritually lost. Having different people and concerns assigned to different days gives my prayer life structure and keeps me from forgetting important people and needs.

“I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people.” (1 Timothy 2:1)

5. Incorporate Physical Movement

One of my favorite prayer times is walking through my neighborhood. Something about moving my body helps my mind stay engaged in prayer. I’m less likely to fall asleep praying when I’m vertical and in motion!

“I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands.” (Psalm 63:4)

6. Explore Ancient Prayer Traditions

Lectio Divina, Ignatian Examen, or praying the hours—these aren’t New Age practices; they’re ancient Christian traditions. They provide a roadmap for prayer when I can’t find my own way.

“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Jeremiah 6:16)

7. Join a Prayer Group

Having at least one other person to pray with keeps me accountable. If you don’t have that person, your mission is to find them!

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” (Matthew 18:20)

8. Pray Through Scripture

I find it nearly impossible to pray meaningfully without the Bible. Scripture provides guardrails for my prayers so I don’t end up in the ditch with selfish or misguided requests.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

9. Use Technology for Prayer Reminders

My phone might be a distraction, but it can also be a tool. I set prayer reminders throughout my day to pause and refocus on God.

“Pray continually.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17)

10. Try Fasting

Some of my most powerful spiritual moments have come during times of fasting—whether from food, media, or other comforts. There’s something about denying yourself that creates space for God to work.

“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do.” (Matthew 6:16)

11. Use Guided Prayers

When I can’t find my own words, I borrow someone else’s! YouTube has countless guided prayer videos, and devotional books like “Prayers That Avail Much” provide excellent scriptural frameworks.

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for…” (Romans 8:26)

12. Incorporate Music

Music prepares my heart for prayer like nothing else. Sometimes singing is my prayer when I can’t find the right words.

“Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord.” (Ephesians 5:19)

13. Practice Gratitude Prayers

I try to start every prayer time by thanking God—even for small things. Like Brother Lawrence scrambling eggs “to the glory of God,” gratitude transforms mundane moments into sacred ones.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

14. Use Visual Aids

Great religious art, nature photographs, or even a simple cross can focus my wandering mind during prayer. I have a cross that my son, Isaac, gave me a few years ago. It sits on my prayer table and has different names of Jesus on it. Often as I begin I thank God for each of the names carved on it.

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2)

15. Pray Out Loud

With my ADD and dyslexia, praying out loud is practically essential. It reminds my brain what I’m doing and keeps me from mentally wandering off to my grocery list. Corrie ten Boom, a Holocaust survivor and Christian missionary, often spoke about the importance of praying aloud.

When Darlene and I were first married, we lived in a broken-down fourplex with paper thin walls. Our apartment’s closet was located sharing a wall with another single seminary student. I can’t remember his name. It’s been a minute since 1985, but I remember his prayers! It inspired me to make my quiet times not so quiet. Speak those prayers! Send them out audibly. For me, praying aloud is a way to get my mind engaged. It reminds me that I am speaking to someOne rather just thinking about some thing.

“My mouth will speak in praise of the LORD.” (Psalm 145:21)

16. Learn Prayers from Different Christian Traditions

Whether it’s Church of God, Lutheran, or Episcopal prayers, exploring how other Christians talk to Jesus expands my prayer vocabulary. We might differ on theological details, but we can learn from each other’s conversations with God.

“There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” (Ephesians 4:4-6)

17. Keep Prayer Consistent

Building prayer into my daily routines—walking, eating, commuting, waking up, going to sleep—helps it become a habit rather than an occasional event.

“Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice.” (Psalm 55:17)

18. Engage in Intercessory Prayer

Praying for others’ needs—my family, friends, church, ministers, missionaries, and the spiritually lost—takes the focus off my problems and reminds me I’m part of something bigger.

“And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.” (Ephesians 6:18)

19. Experiment with Different Times of Day

If you’re not a morning person, try praying at 5am. If you’re not a night owl, set your alarm for midnight and pray for those on the other side of the world. You might discover when your spirit is most attuned to God’s voice. I have a friend who says God speaks to him by waking him up at 3 AM. Usually, if I am awakened at 3 AM, it’s my bladder, but I’ve started listening during my pilgrimage to the bathroom and Oh My! I, too sensed a message from God about aspects of my life.

“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” (Mark 1:35)

20. Practice Breath Prayers

When all else fails, I fall back on the ancient Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy.” Aligning simple phrases with my breathing rhythm helps me pray when I’m spiritually dry.

“The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” (Psalm 145:18)

The Bottom Line

None of these practices are about perfection. Like any relationship, our connection with God deepens when we give it regular attention, honesty, and a willingness to both speak and listen. Prayer is the most important thing we’ll ever do. It’s how we access God’s power for God-sized things. Every time I’ve tried to navigate life without prayer, I’ve face-planted spectacularly (trust me, I’ve collected quite a few spiritual bruises along the way). So my constant prayer is simply for more prayer. I want to find new ways to connect with God because He’s waiting for me to stop scrolling, stop worrying, and stop listening to the noise of the world long enough to enter into divine conversation. It truly is the road less traveled, but it’s the only road where the real adventure begins.

I’m still working on my prayer life, and I hope you are too. I’m curious. What prayer hacks have worked for you? I’d love to hear them in the comments below!

Last year I began a quest to read the books I’ve never really made time to read. I’m a slow reader so it takes a while to get through doorstops like Les Misérables and The Count of Monte Cristo, but it has been so rewarding. I have to confess, intimidation sets in when I begin a 1033 page novel. And those names! Smerdyashchaya! I’m so glad I’m just Tullos.

So often as I read these legendary tomes, I’m reminded that the nature of Christ is usually found hiding in the plot lines, heroes, and minor characters.

In Fyodor Dostoevsky’s masterpiece The Brothers Karamazov, the character of Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya (Russian Meaning-“the stinking one”) appears briefly yet leaves a profound impact on the story. Though easily overlooked, this mute, mentally disabled young woman embodies many Christ-like qualities that illuminate Dostoevsky’s complex exploration of faith, suffering, and redemption.

The Innocent Sufferer

Lizaveta, much like Christ, is defined by her innocent suffering. Described as a homeless woman who wanders the town barefoot in all seasons, her very existence is characterized by deprivation and hardship. Despite her circumstances, she remains gentle and harmless – a pure soul in a corrupt world. Christ’s words “Blessed are the poor in spirit” find literal embodiment in Lizaveta, who possesses nothing yet maintains a spirit untainted by the world’s corruption.

Her rape by Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov, resulting in the birth of Smerdyakov, parallels Christ’s suffering at the hands of a sinful world. Lizaveta does not resist or condemn her attacker but bears her suffering silently – reminiscent of Isaiah’s prophecy about the Messiah: “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth.”

The Holy Fool

Dostoevsky draws upon the Russian Orthodox tradition of the “holy fool” in his portrayal of Lizaveta. In Russian spiritual tradition, these individuals were considered blessed by God despite, or perhaps because of, their mental disabilities. They were thought to possess a special connection to the divine precisely because they lacked the intellectual capacity for deceit or malice.

Christ himself embraced this paradoxical wisdom when he said, “I praise you, Father… because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children.” Lizaveta, in her simplicity and inability to speak, embodies this divine foolishness that transcends human understanding.

I’m reminded of the very end of Salinger’s Franny and Zoey:
“But I’ll tell you a terrible secret- Are you listening to me? There isn’t anyone out there who isn’t Seymour’s Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy– Don’t you know that? Don’t you know that secret yet? And don’t you know who the Fat Lady really is?…Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It’s Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.”

I’m also reminded of the Rich Mullins Lyric:

Birds have nests, foxes have dens
But the hope of the whole world rests on the shoulders of a homeless man
You had the shoulders of a homeless man
You did not have a home

Bearer of Sin

Perhaps most significantly, Lizaveta bears the sin of others without complaint. Her pregnancy with Smerdyakov – the product of Fyodor’s lust and cruelty – becomes a physical manifestation of bearing another’s sin within her own body. (To fully appreciate the weight of the sin, you’ve got to get to know the character, Fyodor. He’s a piece of work.) This directly parallels Christ, who “bore our sins in his body on the cross” (1 Peter 2:24).

Her death during childbirth further strengthens this parallel – she literally gives her life to bring forth new life, even as that new life (Smerdyakov) will ultimately contribute to the novel’s central tragedy. This sacrificial death echoes Christ’s words: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for others.”

The Rejection of Worldly Status

Christ frequently emphasized the reversal of worldly status in the Kingdom of God: “The last will be first, and the first will be last.” Lizaveta, who occupies the lowest possible social position in the novel – homeless, disabled, and ultimately a victim – becomes spiritually significant precisely because of her lowliness.

The townspeople’s treatment of her reflects the world’s rejection of Christ. While some show her kindness, others mock or exploit her vulnerability. Yet in Dostoevsky’s moral universe, her value is infinitely greater than those who dismiss her. As Christ taught, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

The Shadow on the Divine

Though Lizaveta appears only briefly in the novel’s timeline, her spiritual presence looms large. Her son Smerdyakov becomes a key figure in the novel’s central murder, creating a tragic irony: the offspring of this Christ-like innocent becomes an instrument of the novel’s greatest evil.

This paradox reflects the Christian understanding that Christ’s suffering does not immediately eradicate sin from the world but rather provides the means for its ultimate redemption. Lizaveta’s brief life and tragic death do not immediately transform the corrupt world of Skotoprigonyevsk, yet her presence serves as a moral touchstone against which the novel’s other characters can be measured.

Dostoevsky, incredibly positions this minor character of Lizaveta to embody profound theological truths. So far, for me, it’s been the character I can’t escape. Perhaps because there are shadows of the great divine in this part of the story. In her innocence, suffering, and silent bearing of others’ sins, she reflects Christ’s nature in ways that more articulate or powerful characters cannot.

I believe, (not a Russian literature expert) the inclusion of this Christ figure in the form of a disabled, impoverished woman reveals Dostoevsky’s radical understanding of Christianity – one that locates divine presence not in worldly power or intellectual sophistication, but in the most vulnerable and overlooked members of society. Through Lizaveta, Dostoevsky reminds us that redemption often comes from unexpected places, and that those whom society deems worthless may be vessels of divine grace.

Her story challenged me to recognize the sacred dignity in all human beings, regardless of their abilities or social status – a message as relevant in our time as it was in Dostoevsky’s Russia.

Ah Buddy, It’s Christ, Himself!

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Note: The image is from my bookshelf. I’m building a library of classics from The Everyman’s Library. It’s a little newly acquired hobby.

Victor was a retired CEO of a hospital supply company in our town, and when he agreed to be a deacon, I was absolutely thrilled. He’d bring so much insight, wisdom, and acumen to our team. He attended our first meeting as we discussed and prayed about the work of our leadership team. From the outset, there was an issue. A huge one. He wanted to singlehandedly change the vision and values of the church. For the next year, it was a push-and-pull affair rife with counterarguments and proposals that seemed to come out of nowhere. Perhaps he missed the thrill of boardroom takeovers or the ability to singlehandedly change things.

We had recently worked across our entire church organization to prayerfully create a mission statement and a long-range plan that stretched our people’s view of the church. Adding Victor’s force of personality and motives almost cost us three longtime leaders to resign simultaneously. Victor, as gifted as he was, just couldn’t align to the plan, and he left everyone frustrated, including himself.

You can’t minimize the importance of alignment when it comes to vision and effectiveness in a church leadership team. Misalignment will sabotage the tread life of any team.

Here is an easy way to remember, measure, and evaluate your alignment as leaders. I’d call it the P.L.A.N.

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Purpose

Purpose reflects the important question: “WHY.” Everything in your church needs to run through this filter. If you have a program or a practice which has no purpose, you are wasting everyone’s time. There are many things that knock churches off their purpose. Sometimes it’s a shadow mission of a member or a leader. A leader can press others to do something or decide on an initiative because there is something else going on. It could be a personal desire, a resentment, or an unshared agenda.

In other words, a leader may say, “We need to do this program” because of a need they have, or to make themselves look good, or to right a wrong from five years ago. Every leader, whether they are a pastor, staff member, deacon, or volunteer team leader, needs to ask this soul-searching question: “Why?” When you lose your “why,” you lose your way.

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Leadership

John Maxwell nailed it when he said, “Everything rises and falls on leadership.” For a vision to be realized, every leader needs to think of themselves as a champion of that vision. Our goal as leaders shouldn’t simply be to make more followers but rather to develop new leaders. Being a leader doesn’t mean that you’re going to make all the decisions. Leadership means that you will champion the overall vision of the church through your initiative and enthusiasm. That’s what makes a great leader.

Some leaders believe that their role is simply to filter or inspect the actions of the pastor or other leaders. Although we do need to assess where we are, it’s easy for us to get into an analytic mindset that sabotages the overall vision and purpose of the church. Anyone can stand back and offer opinions, but blessed is the pastor who has leaders that get in the game.

One of the greatest leaders I’ve ever worked with had a simple phrase. Every time there was a consensus for our church to move in a certain direction, he’d simply say, “Let’s go.” If he texted it, there would be three or four exclamation marks after the sentence. There was no “How will this affect me?” or “Why was I left out of the decision?” His job was simply to encourage and cheer on the entire team.

If he ever had a concern or disagreement, he would always come to me first before bringing it to the entire group. But usually, when it seemed right to the entire leadership team, he was my “Let’s Go” man. He was never the chairman, but he was always a leader.

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Attunement

Dr. Dan Siegel defines attunement this way:
“When we attune with others, we allow our own internal state to shift, to come to resonate with the inner world of another. This resonance is at the heart of the important sense of ‘feeling felt’ that emerges in close relationships.”

If you are aligned to the overall mission of the church, you’ll want to be attuned to your team. Leaders who are attuned can read the cues of their team members. They pause to think about the “why” questions but not just the “why” question. Attuned leaders are not only group-aware but are also self-aware. In other words, they don’t dominate the discussion but know how to listen, empathize, and ask important questions.

The opposite of attunement might be best described by what the Gottman Institute calls the four horsemen of the relationship apocalypse: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. If you’ve been a member of any church or organization for any amount of time, you’ve probably experienced these four horsemen.

If you align your ministry and work to the vision of your church, make sure you stay away from these four horsemen. (They are headless!)

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Nuance

Along with purpose, leadership, and attunement, an aligned leader also understands the power of nuance. They understand that no person or vision is crafted by cookie cutters or led by robots. A successful plan in one church or with one team doesn’t guarantee the same amount of success in another environment.

Many pastors and leaders know their Bibles—that is paramount. But secondarily, we need to understand our community and adapt our vision to provide strong biblical solutions in the context of our surrounding environment. We must learn to nuance our vision so that our church understands the objectives and ministries.

Shepherds don’t drive their sheep; they lead them. That’s what we should do. And we should do it with a winsome heart and nuance. It will allow you to customize, improvise, and strategize effectively.

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If a church’s alignment is off, the tread-life will be short. To be in proper alignment, we must know our PURPOSE, practice healthy LEADERSHIP, ATTUNE our minds, and adapt with NUANCE.

You’ll know Him when you see Him.

He carries the likeness of no mortal man.

He will turn you upside down and shake you until your pockets no longer jingle. 

He will turn the heat up until meltdown occurs.

He can swallow galaxies.

He can stand on the hairs of your thumb.

He will take your personal certainties and make them uncertain.

He will take the earthly securities and make them insecure.

He will do all this for His own reasons

They are His and He won’t tell.

Not today.

Fearing Him is glorious.

He smells the fear as worthy sacrifice. 

When He comes, don’t hide or run.

Die and He will roll the stone  from your lifeless resting place.

If you’re not into metaphors, nothing to see here. If you love it like I do, come along!

In the arid Judean wilderness, perched on the edge of the Dead Sea, lies Qumran, a site steeped in history and mystery. It’s here that the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered, unlocking ancient truths and revealing a hidden treasure trove of Scripture. For me, Qumran serves as a metaphor of the spiritual pilgrimage. Like the shepherd boy, I’m throwing rocks into the dark caves of my own story and questions.

If you want to find God, you must go into the wilderness.

Like the hidden scrolls, God’s truth often lies buried deep within us, waiting to be uncovered. This discovery requires intentionality, humility, and a willingness to venture into the wilderness of self-examination.

When we surrender to Christ, He becomes our guide through the wilderness, teaching us to confront the brokenness of our old lives and to search the Scriptures for eternal truth. As the psalmist writes, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts” (Psalm 139:23). This act of surrender and self-examination mirrors the process of uncovering the scrolls—peeling back layers to reveal the treasures God has hidden within us.

The Dead Sea of Our Old Lives

The Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth, is a stark image of desolation. Its waters are lifeless, incapable of sustaining fish or plants. Yet, in its depths lies a story of transformation. Just as the Dead Sea encircles Qumran, our old lives often feel like lifeless wastelands—marked by sin, emptiness, and self-reliance. But in Christ, the desolation of our past becomes the fertile ground where God’s truth is revealed.

Vera Nezarian, a Russian writer shares an observation that resonates with me: “The desert and the ocean are realms of desolation on the surface. Both, seething with hidden life.The only veil that stands between perception of what is underneath the desolate surface is your courage.”

If we sit in the space of desolation long enough, we can observe that there’s something more going on there.

Christ as the Living Word

The Qumran scrolls remind us of the enduring power of God’s Word. Just as those ancient texts were preserved against all odds, so the Word of God speaks into the brokenness of our lives with timeless relevance. Jesus, the Living Word, illuminates the Scriptures, helping us grow in the knowledge of God and in our surrender to Him.

As we draw closer to Christ, we learn that truth is not a distant or abstract concept but a person. Jesus declared, “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6). Jesus beckons us to come into the hard places to find the answers to the Mystery.

A Call to Unearth the Scrolls Within

God calls you into desolations and dark nights, a land like Qumran, because it’s there when you might stumble into the greatest discovery of your life. While your desolation might look like barren wildernesses, he might, just might, be leading you into a sacred space where you can experience God more fully.

Frequent Caves of the Qumran soul:

Depression
Job loss
Disaster
Betrayal
Prodigals
Chronic Illnesses
Loss
Disapproval
Rejection
Aging
Cancer

It is in this wilderness, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, that we confront the Dead Sea of our old lives and embrace the living waters of Christ. But we will never make sense of the wilderness, if we aren’t searching. I found the truth of Christ, but my search continues for the fragments I’ve yet to discover in Him. I don’t have all the answers. Neither do you. We’re all still looking and revelation is in real time.

As believers, we are called to unearth the “scrolls” of God’s truth in our lives. These scrolls are not hidden in distant caves but within our own hearts, waiting for us to dive into the Word of God, to pray, to listen, and to surrender. In doing so, we allow Christ to rewrite the story of our lives, transforming our desolation into abundance and our wilderness into a garden.

As I’ve pondered this metaphor, I’m reminded of Paul’s words: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2 Corinthians 4:7). This verse beautifully took me back to Qumran, emphasizing the fragility of my humanity and the divine treasure within us.

Like the ancient scrolls preserved in simple clay jars, God’s truth resides in the humble vessels of our lives. The jars of clay, fragile and unremarkable, symbolize our weakness and dependence on God. Yet, it is through these fragile vessels that His power is displayed. In the context of Qumran, the clay jars that protected the scrolls echo the transformative work of Christ in us—His truth and glory shine through our imperfections, revealing that the source of life and redemption is not in us but in Him. As we surrender to Christ, our brokenness becomes the means through which His light and truth are made known to the world.

Robert Frost’s poem “A Servant to Servants,” he reflects on the inner turmoil and the weight of circumstances, yet also hints at a search for deeper understanding and purpose. He concludes: “The best way out is always through.” This line captures the essence of spiritual surrender and transformation—moving through the wilderness of our struggles to discover the treasure of God’s truth. It aligns with the idea that Christ meets us in our brokenness (our “jars of clay”) and leads us through it, revealing His glory in the process.

Qumran stands as a powerful reminder of God’s faithfulness to preserve His truth and reveal it to those who seek Him. It is a metaphor for the transformative journey every believer takes—a journey that leads us from the desolation of our old lives to the life-giving truth found in Christ.

A Blessing

So may you be inspired, my brothers and sisters, continue to search deeply within yourself, trusting Christ to guide you. In the quiet wilderness of your heart, may you find not only ancient truth but also the living presence of the Savior, who invites you to grow in the knowledge of God and experience the fullness of His grace.