Yesterday I had an opportunity to go to Wauchula Florida and participate in disaster relief. This was a great opportunity to see faithful Tennessee Baptists serving.

The phone rang. It was Derrick. Again. He was the guy in our church that could turn a five-minute stand-up meeting into a full-on Wednesday night, 9 PM, filibuster! “I don’t think we should proceed with the church renovation. We really ought to crunch the numbers on the carpet before we spend the money. And I don’t like the contractor. I think he’s got his own agenda. I bet he’s not even a Christian. I know he came with solid recommendations from Jeff, John, and Bill but I really think we out to wait for a couple of months and see how everything pans out. Could we get together and meet about this? I think we should propose the stoppage to Pastor Alan.”  I hang up the phone after sharing my concern about the delay and sighed. How could I let Derrick get into my head so quickly?

Nehemiah’s “Derrick” was Sanballat. He chaired a coalition of sarcastic, no-gooders who hated progress and did everything they could to derail Nehemiah’s mission to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. His buddy, Tobiah was no different, proclaiming that even a fox could tear down the wall they were building. There’s one thing that’s certain. We will always run into negative, controlling critics and adversaries. It’s our choice as to whether we will relent to their controlling schemes or set our mind to the work.  Whenever we try to make a radical, God-honoring change at work, church or in a community, we will always face opposition, negativity, mockery, sarcasm, minimizations and even threat. Expect it. We can either let them get in our heads or press forward. Let’s follow the crew of Jerusalem who set their mind to work. 

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