God Outside the Box

We live in a world where almost everything feels explainable.

Need directions? Pull out your phone.
Need medical advice? Pull out your phone.
Need to fix a washing machine or learn how to smoke a brisket? Pull out your phone.

We have more information available to us than any generation in history. And because so much of life now feels manageable, we’ve slowly begun assuming God should be manageable too.

We want answers. Certainty. Explanations. Systems we can organize and control.

Then we come to Trinity Sunday.

And Trinity Sunday reminds us that God is bigger than our understanding.

The doctrine of the Trinity has always stretched the human mind. One God. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Distinct, yet One. Christians have tried for centuries to explain it through illustrations and analogies, but eventually every illustration breaks down.

Why?

Because God is bigger than every comparison we create.

And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe the Trinity is not given so we can fully explain God. Maybe it’s given to remind us that God exists outside the boxes we keep trying to build for Him.

Jesus hinted at this in John 16 when He told His disciples:

“There is so much more I want to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.”

Think about that statement for a moment.

Jesus essentially says, “You’re not ready for the full picture yet.”

Honestly, neither are we.

One of humanity’s oldest temptations is the desire to control what we cannot fully understand. That struggle goes all the way back to Genesis. The serpent tempted Adam and Eve with the desire to “be like God.” Ever since then, humanity has been trying to reduce God into something manageable.

We want a God we can explain.
A God we can predict.
A God we can fit neatly into our political tribe, our preferences, and our comfort zones.

But God refuses to stay inside the boxes we create.

We’ve become incredibly tribal in our culture. It becomes easy to claim God for our side while assuming He fully opposes the other side. But anytime God fully agrees with everything my tribe already believes, I may not be worshipping God anymore.

I may be worshipping a mirror.

The Trinity reminds us that God is always bigger:

  • Bigger than our politics.
  • Bigger than our ideologies.
  • Bigger than our theological pride.
  • Bigger than our understanding.

Now don’t misunderstand me. The pursuit of knowledge is not bad. God gave us minds to think, learn, discover, and explore. Science itself grows out of humanity studying the order of God’s creation.

The mistake comes when we assume that because we can study creation, we can fully comprehend the Creator.

God is not a math equation to solve.

God is mystery.

And mystery makes us uncomfortable because mystery requires trust. We would often rather have explanations than dependence.

That’s why Christianity has never primarily been about mastering information. It has always been about learning trust.

Jesus said the Spirit would guide us into truth. Notice He didn’t say the Spirit would instantly explain everything. The Spirit guides. Slowly. Patiently. Over time.

That process is called sanctification.

Discipleship is formation, not just information.

That may be one of the greatest struggles facing the modern church today. We’ve convinced ourselves that if people know more, they will automatically become more spiritually mature. But information alone does not transform people.

You can know Bible verses and still not trust God.
You can understand doctrine and still live in fear.
You can win theological arguments and still refuse to surrender your heart.

The Spirit forms us gradually:

  • One act of obedience at a time.
  • One surrender at a time.
  • One step of trust at a time.

That’s why the question we’ve been asking at our church matters so much:

“What is one thing Jesus is asking you to obey right now that you’ve been avoiding?”

Because spiritual maturity is not about having God fully figured out.

It’s about trusting Him enough to obey what He has already revealed.

There are some things we may never fully understand this side of heaven:

  • Why suffering comes.
  • Why some prayers seem unanswered.
  • Why some doors close.
  • Why healing sometimes comes and sometimes doesn’t.

The apostle Paul once wrote:

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Right now, we only see partially.

And honestly, that frustrates us. We want certainty. We want clarity. We want all the answers.

But perhaps part of God’s mercy is that He has not revealed everything yet.

Corrie Ten Boom once shared that as a little girl she feared she would not have enough faith to endure future suffering. Her father asked her, “When I buy your train ticket, when do I give it to you?”

She answered, “Right before we board the train.”

“That’s right,” he said. “And so it is with God. He gives you what you need when you need it.”

That’s how grace works.

Not usually early.
Not usually all at once.
But enough for the moment you’re standing in.

The good news of Christianity is not that we have God all figured out.

The good news is that God has us figured out — and loves us anyway.

He knows every contradiction in us. Every fear. Every failure. Every hidden struggle. Every doubt.

And still:

  • The Father creates us.
  • The Son redeems us.
  • The Spirit pursues and transforms us.

The Trinity reminds us that God is beyond us, but never absent from us.

Maybe faith is not about solving every mystery.

Maybe faith is learning to trust the One who already holds every mystery in His hands.

Because honestly, a god small enough to be fully explained would never be big enough to save us.

So perhaps the real question is not whether we fully understand God.

Perhaps the real question is this:

What area of your life are you still trying to control instead of surrendering to Him?

I’d love it if you’d share your answer to that question with me. Leave a comment below, or message me privately.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Let’s Have Church

The Church Was Never Meant to Run Without the Holy Spirit

Pentecost Sunday is all about the Holy Spirit.

And if we’re honest, the Holy Spirit makes a lot of church people nervous. 

We talk comfortably about God the Father.
We talk confidently about Jesus the Son.
But when we start talking about the Holy Spirit… people get anxious.

Some churches ignore the Spirit altogether.
Others abuse the language of the Spirit emotionally or manipulatively.
And somewhere in the middle, many churches have simply learned how to function without any real dependence on the Spirit at all. 

We know how to organize church.
We know how to livestream church.
We know how to market church.
We know how to schedule church.

But do we still know how to depend on the Spirit of God?

A.W. Tozer once said:

“If the Holy Spirit was withdrawn from the church today, 95 percent of what we do would go on and no one would know the difference.”

That quote stings because it feels uncomfortably possible.

Activity is not the same thing as anointing.
Noise is not the same thing as power.
Crowds are not the same thing as transformation.
And information is not the same thing as spiritual formation. 

The church was never meant to operate merely on talent, personality, strategy, or programming.

The church was born in fire.

The Waiting Before the Fire

When Acts 2 opens, the disciples are waiting in Jerusalem exactly where Jesus told them to be.

But don’t romanticize the waiting.

Waiting sounds spiritual until you actually have to do it.

Waiting is where anxiety grows.
Waiting is where uncertainty lives.
Waiting is where all the “what ifs” begin whispering in your mind. 

Some of you understand that kind of waiting right now.

Waiting on healing.
Waiting on direction.
Waiting on peace.
Waiting on prodigal children.
Waiting on strength.
Waiting on God to move.

And somewhere in that waiting, it becomes easy to wonder:

“God, are You still working?”

But what if the waiting room is actually preparation ground?

Sometimes God does His deepest work in us before He ever does His visible work through us.

Then Acts 2 says:

“Suddenly…”

I love that word.

Because God can change everything suddenly. 

When Heaven Breathes on Ordinary People

The Spirit of God filled that upper room with wind and fire.

Ordinary men and women were suddenly filled with extraordinary power.
The gospel began spreading across language barriers.
Lives began changing.
The church was born. 

Some people stood amazed.
Others mocked.

Peter stood up and declared:

“This is the fulfillment of the promise of God.”

Pentecost was not emotional hype.

Pentecost was divine ignition.

It was heaven breathing on surrendered people.

The Spirit Still Moves

On May 24, 1738, John Wesley attended a prayer meeting on Aldersgate Street in London and later wrote:

“I felt my heart strangely warmed.”

That moment helped ignite a spiritual movement that spread around the world. 

And here’s what matters:

The same Holy Spirit who moved at Pentecost…
the same Spirit who moved at Aldersgate…
is still moving today.

The Holy Spirit is not merely a doctrine to study.
The Spirit is the presence of God transforming people into the likeness of Jesus Christ. 

The Spirit convicts.
The Spirit comforts.
The Spirit empowers.
The Spirit produces holiness.
The Spirit gives courage.
The Spirit breaks chains.

Only the Spirit of God can truly change a human heart.

The Evidence of the Spirit

That’s why I keep asking the same question as a pastor:

What is one thing Jesus is asking you to obey right now that you’ve been avoiding? 

Not admire.
Not agree with.
Not study.

Obey.

Because the evidence of the Holy Spirit is not merely emotional excitement.

It is transformed obedience.

Maybe for you that means forgiveness.
Maybe surrender.
Maybe reconciliation.
Maybe honesty.
Maybe letting go of a grudge, an addiction, or an excuse you’ve carried for years.

We often want the fire of Pentecost without the surrender of Pentecost.

But the Spirit was never given simply to make us feel something in worship.

The Spirit was given to make us more like Jesus. 

When the Fire Grows Weak

If I’m honest, there are seasons when even pastors feel spiritually dry.

You keep preaching.
Keep serving.
Keep carrying responsibility.

Meanwhile your soul quietly whispers:

“Lord… I need fresh fire.” 

Maybe I’m not the only one.

Maybe some of you still believe…
still show up…
still try…

But somewhere along the way the wonder faded.

Pentecost reminds us that God still breathes life into weary people.
He still awakens dry souls.
He still fills empty hearts.
He still empowers ordinary believers. 

So… Let’s Have Church

When the Spirit truly moves:

Forgiveness happens.
Fear gives way to courage.
Hope rises again.
Pride begins to crumble.
People begin obeying Jesus instead of merely admiring Him. 

Church isn’t merely a weekly gathering we attend.

Church is what happens when the Spirit of God fills ordinary people with extraordinary grace and power.

The wind of God is still blowing.
The fire of God is still falling.
The Spirit of God is still moving.

So come on…

Let’s have church. 

Until next time, keep looking up…

Trying Harder Never Works

Acts 1:1–11

Most of us Christians already know what we’re supposed to do.

Forgive people.
Pray more consistently.
Trust God more deeply.
Stop returning to the same sin.
Let go of bitterness.
Obey what Jesus is asking of us.

The problem usually isn’t information.

It’s power.

That’s why Ascension Sunday matters far more than most people realize.

Most people think the Ascension is about Jesus leaving. It’s actually about Jesus reigning.

In Acts 1, the disciples stood watching as Jesus ascended into heaven. If we had been there, we probably would have thought the same thing they were thinking:

“He’s gone.”

But that’s not what the Ascension means at all.

Right before Jesus ascended, He told His disciples:

You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you…” (Acts 1:8)

Then He went up.

He went up…so the Spirit could come down.

The Ascension is not Jesus stepping away from His people. It is Jesus taking His throne.

The New Testament repeatedly tells us that Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father. That’s not a place of inactivity. It’s a place of authority.

The cross is finished.
The resurrection is accomplished.
And now Jesus reigns as King.

And Kings don’t make suggestions.

That changes how we understand the Christian life.

Because Christianity was never meant to be lived through sheer willpower.

Most of us have tried that already.

We make promises.
We recommit ourselves.
We vow to do better.
Then somewhere down the road we find ourselves struggling with the same attitudes, the same habits, the same failures, and the same exhaustion.

The problem is not that we lack effort.

The problem is that we are trying to live a spiritual life without spiritual power.

That’s why Jesus sent the Holy Spirit.

And let’s be clear about something: The Holy Spirit is not a force. He is not an energy. He is not a religious feeling.

He is a Person.

He speaks.
He convicts.
He guides.
He comforts.
He corrects.
He can even be grieved.

You can’t grieve a force.
You can only grieve a person.

The Holy Spirit is God within us.

We often say:
The Father is God over us.
The Son is God beside us.
The Spirit is God within us.

And that changes everything.

The Holy Spirit is not simply here to make us more religious. He is here to make us more alive.

Paul says in Romans 15 that the Spirit fills us with joy and peace and causes us to overflow with hope.

That’s not the absence of struggle.
That’s victory in the middle of struggle.

And that kind of life cannot be manufactured through discipline alone.

It comes through surrender.

Years ago, a missionary named Herbert Jackson was assigned a car that would not start without a push. Every day he found people to help push the car off. He parked on hills whenever possible. He kept the engine running whenever he could.

He lived that way for two years.

Finally, another missionary looked under the hood and discovered a loose battery cable. He tightened the connection, turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

For two years, the power had been there.

The problem was connection.

That may describe some of us spiritually.

We love Jesus.
We mean well.
We want to change.

But we keep finding ourselves exhausted because we’re trying to produce spiritual transformation through human effort alone.

And eventually we begin to wonder:
“Why do I keep struggling with the same things?”
“Why do I keep falling into the same patterns?”
“Why does the Christian life feel so heavy sometimes?”

Because the Christian life was never meant to be powered by human strength.

Jesus never said:
“Try harder.”

He said:
“Remain in Me.”

That’s a very different thing.

The problem is not that Jesus is absent.
The problem is not that the Spirit is unwilling.
The problem may simply be surrender.

Because the Holy Spirit does not force Himself upon us.

He waits.

For surrender.
For obedience.
For yieldedness.

And maybe that brings us back to the question we’ve been wrestling with together these past few weeks:

What is one thing Jesus is asking you to obey right now that you’ve been avoiding?

That may be your loose cable.

That may be the place where pride is keeping you disconnected.
Or fear.
Or bitterness.
Or addiction.
Or control.
Or simply delayed obedience.

And here’s the good news:
The power is not missing.

The Spirit of God is still present.
Jesus is still reigning.
Grace is still available.
Transformation is still possible.

You do not have to stay trapped in the same cycle forever.

Jesus went up…
so He could come down.

Not just to forgive you.
But to fill you.
To strengthen you.
To guide you.
To transform you.

Trying harder never works.

But surrender does.

And when the Spirit of God begins to take control of a surrendered life—
everything changes.

Until next time, keep looking up…

My Graduation Speech: The Real Path to the American Dream

It’s graduation season. I’ve received the invitations in the mail and seen the posts on social media.

I’ve been invited in the past to give commencement and baccalaureate addresses. I always tried to encourage graduates with three simple pieces of advice:

  1. Adversity is a fact of life—prepare to deal with it.
  2. Look for purpose in the adversity.
  3. Attitude determines altitude.

I thought that was solid advice for young people stepping into the world. But as I watch the world they’re entering today, I’d offer something different.

There’s a growing conversation in America about the death of the American Dream. People are frustrated—and honestly, some of that frustration is understandable. Housing is expensive. Groceries cost more. Young adults feel overwhelmed. Many are working harder yet falling farther behind.

But somewhere in the middle of all the arguments about economics, politics, and systems, I wonder if we’ve overlooked something simpler.

What if the American Dream isn’t dead? What if we’ve simply drifted away from the ordinary habits that once helped build it?

For years, researchers have pointed to what they call the “Success Sequence.” It’s not complicated:

  1. Finish high school.
  2. Get a job and keep it.
  3. Get married before having children.

That’s not a sermon—though it could be. That’s research. Study after study shows that people who follow these basic steps dramatically increase their chances of avoiding poverty and reaching the middle class.

Before anyone gets angry, let me say the obvious: Life is not a formula. Some people do everything “right” and still struggle. Some make terrible decisions and still prosper. Real injustices and disadvantages exist. But acknowledging exceptions doesn’t erase patterns. And the patterns are hard to ignore.

Education matters. Work matters. Stable families matter.

And I believe there’s a fourth piece we don’t talk about nearly enough: Church.

Not because going to church magically makes you wealthy. But because healthy churches help form healthy people. They teach the very things our culture increasingly struggles to instill: faithfulness, self-control, commitment, forgiveness, responsibility, delayed gratification, service, and community.

Church puts you around older couples who stayed married, men who show up for work, women of integrity, grandparents who sacrificed, and people who know how to suffer without quitting. It creates relationships, mentorship, accountability, and hope. In many ways, it reinforces the values the research already says matter most.

We’ve spent years telling people to “follow your heart,” “live your truth,” and “do what makes you happy.” But real flourishing has always required something deeper than self-expression. It requires discipline. Sacrifice. Commitment.

The truth is, most meaningful things in life are built slowly—a marriage, a career, character, faith, and yes, the American Dream. One ordinary decision at a time.

Graduate. Work hard. Commit. Show up. Worship. Serve. Stay faithful.

None of those things are flashy. None go viral. But they still work more often than not.

Maybe the American Dream feels out of reach not because opportunity has disappeared, but because we’ve stopped valuing the habits that once sustained it. The Church has a vital role to play in rebuilding not just successful people, but stable, formed, and faithful people.

So, graduates… build your life slowly. Do ordinary things faithfully. Show up. Keep your word. Work hard. Love people well. Stay connected to a healthy church. And don’t underestimate the power of a steady life built over time.

You’ll be better for it—and so will the world around you.

Until next time, keep looking up…

A Faith Worth Passing On…

This past week, I had the privilege of preaching my mother’s funeral.

There are some moments in life that are too important to keep to yourself.

For those who couldn’t be there… and for those who simply want to remember… I wanted to share what was said.

This isn’t just a message about my mom. It’s a message about the kind of faith that lasts.

Mom’s Funeral Message

I’ve told my congregations before that I was raised at the foot of a Methodist piano. When I said that, the story was usually about me… or my brothers. But today I realize—it was never about us. It was always about Mom. And more than that… it was really about Jesus. In a world that chases platforms and spotlights, Mom chose a piano bench.

Mom’s faith sat on that piano bench—Sunday after Sunday—for over 73 years. She once told me how it all started. Papaw had her taking piano lessons when she was nine years old. Then, one Sunday at Zoar Methodist Church—she had just turned ten—Papaw, who was leading the singing, looked at her and said, “Play.” She’s been playing ever since.

I started trying to name all the churches she played for. In those early days—Zoar and Mt. Pleasant. Later—Frantom Chapel, Concord… and of course, Chatham. And those were just the regular ones. There’s no telling how many times she filled in at other churches along the way.

Seventy-three years… Sunday after Sunday. That’s a lot of showing up.

Now here’s something you may not know. Mom was never very confident in her piano playing. I suppose that’s part of her humility. But she never let a lack of confidence keep her from obedience.

Because she didn’t see it as just playing for a church. She saw it as answering a call.

To my knowledge, she never received a salary from any church. She would occasionally accept a love offering, but she turned most of that back around to the church. For her, that piano bench became an altar. And every note she played was an act of worship.

If you want to understand what that looked like, let me show you.

There was a man in the community—I’ll leave his name out—who had pretty much become a hermit as he got older. For health reasons, he wouldn’t—or maybe couldn’t—leave the house for groceries or medicine. His home had become a mess—cluttered with trash, old rotting food, dogs. It had gotten so bad that eventually, even EMS stopped responding to his calls. Most people had pulled back.

You know who didn’t? Mom didn’t. She kept showing up. She would go to his house. She would take him food. She would help however she could.

And if we’re being honest… some of us didn’t understand it. Some of us probably wondered if he was taking advantage of her. But that didn’t seem to matter to her. She didn’t see him the way others saw him. She saw someone who needed help. And she showed up.

That’s the kind of faith she had. It didn’t wait until it was convenient. It didn’t wait until it was appreciated. It just showed up. The truth is… that kind of life doesn’t come from nowhere. It comes from walking with Jesus. Because if you’ve read the Gospels… you’ve seen that kind of life before.

Jesus said in Matthew 25, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these… you did for me.” I don’t know that Mom ever stood up and quoted that verse. Truth is, I don’t remember her quoting much Scripture at all. She didn’t have to. She lived it. When she showed up at that house… she wasn’t just helping a man in need. She was serving her Savior. That’s how she served.

Her faith also showed up for her family. After Tommy died, Mom started a Saturday morning breakfast tradition. I’m a little jealous that Ben and Shawn got the early years, but I was thrilled when we moved closer and I could join in. I’d rise early and head to Chatham—not for toast and jelly, but for homemade buttermilk biscuits, pancakes, stove-cooked grits with a stick of butter melting on top, scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon. Real, stick-to-your-ribs food.

We’d gather around the table. Sometimes one of us alone. Sometimes two of us. Sometimes all three. Sometimes with our spouses. Other times with our children. But every time with Mom. Many times Uncle Benny would come down for coffee and a visit. Other times friends and extended family were offered the invitation. Rarely was it ever declined.

Over the years, Mom’s Saturday morning breakfast became legendary. It was the envy of all who knew about it. We’d gather around the table… and there was a sacredness to it. It was rhythm. It was formation. Biscuits and sausage and grits wasn’t just food to Mom. It was glue. Glue that held us together.

Yes, it was glue, but more than that, it was the way she loved us.

She was not an extrovert—and that is an understatement. You would think someone who spent over 25 years serving the public every day as Postmaster would be a strong personality. No. Not Mom. She was perhaps one of the most unassuming people I’ve ever known. But what she did was love deeply and serve greatly, quietly, faithfully.

I’ve known that love my whole life. Vanessa was going through Mom’s things the other day when she came across the bottom third of a loose-leaf sheet of paper folded neatly in a small wooden box. When she unfolded it she saw the words “From Bubba to Mother.” On the right-hand side were these words:

The sea lies peaceful and calm; Your fortune lies upon your palm. There are doctors with all kinds of cures, But no love sweeter than yours.

A simple little poem written by her son. Honestly, I have no memory of ever writing it. But it meant something to her, and now it means something to me. It means the love I knew all my life was real, deep, and abiding. Who keeps a child’s poem on loose-leaf paper for fifty years or more? Mom, that’s who.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand. That kind of love—the kind that makes an altar out of a piano bench, the kind that serves the least of these, the kind that makes glue with biscuits and sausage—that doesn’t just happen. That kind of life is formed over time. It’s formed in quiet moments… in unseen choices… in a steady walk. Because the truth is—Mom didn’t just believe in Jesus. She walked with Him.

That’s the Jesus who shaped her life. And that’s the Jesus who has now received her. Mom’s life wasn’t built on being a good person trying hard. It was built on a Savior who loved her first. A Savior who gave His life for her. A Savior who rose again—so that death would not have the last word. Because of Jesus… this is not goodbye. It’s goodbye for now.

The question that sits quietly in front of all of us today is this: What are we going to do with the life we’ve been given? Because the same Jesus Mom walked with is still calling people to follow Him—to live that same kind of life: A life that shows up… A life that serves… A life that loves.That was her life. Not loud. Not flashy. Simply faithful. In the end, that’s a life that matters.

I’m grateful for the faith she lived…and the Savior who made it possible.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing….

Why the Church Doesn’t Have a Mission Problem—It Has a Measurement Problem

The Question We Don’t Want to Ask

There’s a question that has followed me for years—through different churches, roles, and seasons of ministry:

Why is it that we have more churches, more resources, more teaching, and more access to Scripture than ever before… and yet it often feels like we are producing fewer fully devoted disciples of Jesus?

I’m not interested in criticizing the Church. I love the Church. I’ve given my life to it. I still believe, as Bill Hybels once said, “The local church is the hope of the world.”

But honesty matters.

Somewhere along the way, we’ve gotten very good at doing church without always becoming the kind of people Jesus called us to be.

We’ve built systems.
We’ve created environments.
We’ve filled calendars.
We’ve learned how to gather a crowd.

But if we step back and ask the harder question—

Are we actually making disciples who are being transformed into the image of Christ?

—that answer gets uncomfortable.

The Real Problem Isn’t the Model

For a while, I thought the issue might be the structure.

Maybe we needed a new model.
Simplify things. Rethink everything. Start over.

There’s some value in that kind of thinking—but I’ve come to see something deeper:

The problem isn’t the model.
The problem is what we’re measuring.

We’ve been measuring:

  • Attendance instead of transformation
  • Activity instead of obedience
  • Participation instead of surrender

And when you measure the wrong things, you produce the wrong results.

So let me say it plainly:

We don’t have a mission problem. We have a measurement problem.

And that leads to this:

We don’t need a new model—we need new life within the one we already have.

My Confession

Before I go any further, I need to start with me.

For years, the driving question of my ministry was simple:

How do I grow the church?

I told myself it was about the Kingdom…
But if I’m honest, it often looked like:

  • More people in the pews
  • More dollars in the plate
  • Bigger buildings

Those became my measuring rods.

By those standards, I felt successful.

But after 35 years in ministry, I’ve come to a different conclusion:

Success is no longer my goal. Faithfulness is.

The problem is—those old metrics don’t disappear easily. They still whisper. They still shape how we think.

And that’s why we have to ask a better question.

The Question That Changes Everything

Not:
“How do we grow the church?”

But:
“How do we make disciples of Jesus Christ?”

That’s not a new idea. It’s the mission Jesus gave us in The Gospel of Matthew 28:19–20.

We print it.
We preach it.
We claim it.

But here’s the tension:

If disciple-making is the mission… why are we measuring everything but that?

The Measurement Problem

Here’s the challenge:
Real discipleship is hard to measure.

We’ve tried substitutes:

  • Small group attendance
  • Bible study completion
  • Mission trip participation

Those measure activity.

They don’t necessarily measure transformation.

And transformation is the goal.

Dallas Willard pushed this further. He suggested we should be asking questions like:

  • How are we handling anger?
  • Where is cynicism showing up?
  • Are we growing in honesty?
  • Are we gaining freedom from sin?

That’s not abstract theology.
That’s everyday discipleship.

And it starts with us.

You Can’t Lead Where You’re Not Going

If leaders aren’t being transformed, congregations won’t be either.

Which means we have to ask hard questions:

  • Where is sin still shaping me?
  • Where am I resisting obedience?
  • Where is Jesus calling me to change?

And we can’t answer those alone.

That kind of transformation requires honest, accountable community—the kind John Wesley built through small “bands” where people told the truth about their lives.

Without that, we settle for:

The Problem with “Greenhouse Christians”

I once read about a tree-growing contest.

One man brought a flawless oak tree—perfect shape, lush leaves, grown in a controlled greenhouse.

Another brought a smaller, rougher tree—crooked trunk, scarred leaves, clearly weathered by storms.

On appearance alone, the greenhouse tree won.

But when the roots were examined, everything changed.

  • The greenhouse tree had shallow roots
  • The other had deep, resilient roots

When storms came, one snapped.

The other stood.

And I can’t help but wonder:

Have we been growing greenhouse Christians?

Comfortable.
Impressive.
Active.

But shallow.

Because real discipleship doesn’t happen in controlled environments.

It happens in:

  • Struggle
  • Obedience
  • Community
  • Surrender

That kind of growth is slower. Messier. Less impressive on paper.

But it lasts.

Three Shifts That Change Everything

If we’re serious about making disciples, we don’t need something flashy.

We need something faithful.

1. Personal Transformation (Start With Yourself)

Before we measure anything else, we start here:

  • Where is God changing me?
  • Where do I need to obey?

Not guilt-driven—but Spirit-led.

2. Deeper Community (Not Just Bigger Crowds)

We don’t just need more people in a room.

We need smaller spaces where people are:

  • Known
  • Honest
  • Accountable

Real transformation requires real relationships.

3. Practiced Obedience (Not Just More Information)

Jesus didn’t say:

“Teach them everything I commanded.”

He said:

“Teach them to obey everything I commanded.”

That’s the shift:

  • From knowing → to doing
  • From agreement → to obedience

Because information fills our heads…

But obedience shapes our lives.

This Isn’t Comfortable—And That’s the Point

I’ll be honest.

Part of me would rather:

  • Build something impressive
  • Launch great programs
  • Watch visible growth

I know how to do that.

But this?

Calling people to transformation…
Creating accountable community…
Measuring obedience…

That’s harder.

And if I’m honest—it scares me a little.

But every time I drift that direction, I’m reminded:

Faithfulness—not success—is the goal.

The Question That Remains

At the end of the day, this isn’t about strategy.

It’s about identity.

What kind of disciples are we becoming?

Because that will determine what kind of church we become.

So here’s the question I’ll leave you with:

Where is Jesus asking you to move from knowing… to doing?

Not someday.

Not theoretically.

But right now.

Because if we keep the main thing the main thing…

He will build something that actually lasts.

Final Thought

We don’t need a new model.

We need new life.

And that begins—with us.

If this resonates with you—if you’re tired of surface-level faith and hungry for real transformation—I’d love to hear from you. Let’s walk this road together.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Five Shifts Hurting the Church…

I’ve been doing ministry as a calling for over 35 years now. That doesn’t make me an expert, but it does make me one who has seen a lot. One of the things I’ve seen a lot of is change…and not all of it for the better.

I try mostly to be positive in my blog posts. Unfortunately, that positivity doesn’t always come through because my cynical nature manages to bleed through. I write this post to share a little of the wisdom I’ve picked up over the 35 years of ministry. 

It was coming back into an “official” ministry role (after a brief time away) that I began to notice some subtle shifts in the Church. The shifts were happening before I left full time ministry, but I think I may have been blind to them, and I may have played a role in fostering some of those shifts (I probably did, truth be known). This blog post is my attempt to unpack those shifts, and to say that I believe they are hurting the church. 

So, let’s call this blog post Five Shifts that are Hurting the Church. I won’t belabor them, but I do mention them as a means of starting the conversation with church leaders (if there are any who read my blog) to call us all back to faithfulness in our leadership and our discipleship. Perhaps I offer them as a prophetic word, not sounding an alarm, but simply speaking as one who was deeply engaged, stepped away and returned to notice the shifts.

Brokenness or Sin

The first shift hurting the Church is the Church talks more about “brokenness” than it does about sin. I can’t honestly tell you how many times I’ve personally used the words “broken” and “brokenness” in my sermons when I could have (should have) used the word sin.

Yes, we’re all broken in some manner or another. But, we are also all sinners. When we focus on the brokenness of our humanity, we might too easily overlook the sinfulness of our humanity, and if we overlook the sinfulness of our humanity we might miss the Savior who gave Himself for us. And, if we miss the Savior we miss everything.

See, when something is broken, the most likelihood is that it didn’t break itself. Take a vase, for instance. Vases don’t just jump off shelves and break themselves. The brokenness is the result of something that happened to it. The vase carries no guilt.

In the same way, by constantly referring to ourselves as broken, we fail to acknowledge our own complicity in anything that is wrong with us. Our brokenness, more times than not, is the result of our own sinful choices. There are times when we are broken through no fault of our own. Still, we are guilty.

Here’s why it matters: If I’m simply broken, then I need a therapist or a doctor to mend the brokenness. That might be one reason the philosophy of Moral Therapeutic Deism (MTD) has gained a foothold in the Church. What is that? Basically, God becomes my therapist and the cross becomes a self-help tool.

God exists to help me fix my problems so that I can feel happy about my life and myself. Being a nice person is the only requirement of faith and being good gets one into heaven. The need for repentance is non-existent. We just need the self-help section from the local bookstore. It is a very self-centered religion, but it fits oh, so nicely in American culture.

This is more than a subtle shift in language. It is a total shift in our theology. We are sinners. Sinners need a Savior and the Gospel reminds us that Jesus died for our sins so that we might be reconciled to God through His blood. That’s not to say we don’t all need a little therapy from time to time (I’ve been to therapy myself), but the root problem underlying all the “brokenness” of humanity is sin. The Church must name it and call sinners to repentance so that we might discover the only cure for what really ails us. Let me say it again—sinners need a Savior!

Self-Improvement or Self-Denial

The second shift hurting the Church is we talk too much about self-improvement and not enough about self-denial. Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mark 8:34). When we come to church seeking self-improvement, we still have self as the focus. Our gathering as the body of Christ puts Him at the center. We are there to worship Him.

We want to come to church to learn how to be a better spouse, or a better parent, or a better whatever. When Christ is at the center, we’ll be better. Basic discipleship begins with self-denial. Jesus doesn’t want a better version of ourselves. He wants a crucified version of ourselves. Self-improvement refines the self. Self-denial replaces the self. Improvement makes us better, but the cross—well, that makes us new.

Comfort or Conviction

The third shift hurting the Church is we’ve chosen comfort over conviction. We live in a culture where comfort is king. We want to be comfortable, and by comfortable, I mean comfortable in our beliefs. We want to come to church to have our beliefs and our behavior affirmed, not challenged. 

And, we in the church have, too often, been willing to oblige. We have, too often, embraced the philosophy that the only thing we can’t tolerate is intolerance. We don’t want to come across as “toxic” because if someone feels convicted, they might feel judged and go to another church down the street. Our problem might be that we don’t understand what conviction is. Conviction isn’t judgement. Conviction is invitation—an invitation to holiness.

Christianity without conviction cannot produce holy people, and a holy people is what we’re called to be. Holy literally means “set apart,” and we are to be set apart from the world. We are not called to reflect the world’s values, but rather the values that are embodied in Jesus Christ and recorded in the pages of the Bible. 

Comfort does not call us to holiness. Comfort keeps us chained to brokenness. Conviction breaks the chains. Sin kills us. Conviction calls us out of our sin. Conviction leads us to repentance. Conviction claims us for the holy life to which we’ve been called. Conviction clarifies the values and behaviors that set us apart from the world.

Atmosphere or Formation

The fourth shift hurting the Church is we chose atmosphere over formation. In our effort to be sensitive to those outside the Church, we made Christianity a commodity to be consumed rather than a lifestyle to be embraced. I’ve confessed my own complicity in this shift in other places.

In my own defense, we had the best of intentions. We used evangelism as the reason. It was an attempt to reach the un-churched so that they would feel “comfortable” hearing the Gospel. What we accomplished was to communicate a false understanding of the purpose of the Church. In this shift we created consumer Christians instead of forming faithful disciples. Atmosphere creates consumers. Worship shapes disciples.

Worship is at the heart of spiritual formation. When the focus is atmosphere, people experience church but are never formed by it. We gather to worship a Holy God as the center and focus. We gather, not to feel good, but to be in the presence of God. Sometimes we feel good because we have been in His presence, but we should leave with a sense of awe and wonder because we have been in His presence.

Worship that is faithful to scripture is God-centered and moves us away from ourselves and reminds us that God is God and we are not. It is meant to remind us of His omnipotence, His omniscience and His omnipresence. In worship, we bring an offering to God, not to receive something from Him. Worship is not entertainment. Worship is formation.

Belonging or Believing

The fifth shift hurting the Church is that we prioritized belonging over believing. We all want to “belong” somewhere. That is human nature. But, when the Church believes, unbelievers encounter Christ in their belonging. We can belong for twenty years and never believe. Belonging provides a comfortable entryway, but believing (transformation) is the goal.

Again, in our defense, we want to practice hospitality. Hospitality is a Christian virtue, and unbelievers should feel welcomed and loved in church. But, our intent is ultimately to love them into a relationship with Jesus Christ, not simply to want them to feel welcomed. 

We can belong to the Rotary Club and the Book Club. We join those clubs because we support their goals and want to participate in the projects that support those goals. We have a common aim in our belonging. Do we belong to those clubs before we understand their purpose? Sometimes, yes, but we soon embrace the goals of the club or we move on.

Why do we expect less in the church? The church is more than a group of warm and open people. It is the community of saints in the world. The believing church functions as a witness to the truth of Jesus Christ when its members are united in that truth. If we simply belong regardless of our belief, the witness of Christ and the church is weakened.

     The Church, as biblically defined, is a supernatural body of believers. Belonging can lead to belief, but when belonging becomes the priority, belief takes a backseat, and the Church ceases to fulfill its purpose in the world—which is to make disciples of Jesus Christ. Discipleship happens through spiritual formation, and Christians are formed through the Church. Belonging matters. Belief is essential.     

These five shifts have influenced the way the Church engaged in ministry over the last 35 years. I’ve written these shifts down as a guide to my own faithfulness in leading the body of Christ. They will also serve as a means of holding my congregation accountable to the purpose for which we’ve been called.

There is much for which we must repent. We, as the Church, must return to faithful discipleship that is rooted in our understanding of our purpose. I spent a lot of years in ministry desiring to be successful. My only desire now is to spend the rest of my years being faithful.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Random Ramblings and Rants…

So, this has been a week where I’ve been challenged by so many thoughts in my mind that I think I need this venue to try to gain some clarity from them. Processing all these thought via this means may bring me some clarity, but it also might serve to confuse you in the process, so…be prepared!

Ramblings

First, I’ve been challenged by Eugene Peterson this week. Last week, I went to the bookstore (I haven’t been in ages!) and in my browsing I came across a recently released compilation of Peterson’s sermons entitled “Lights a Lovely Mile.” I incorporate reading other peoples sermons into my devotional routine on occasion, and having a fondness for Peterson, I thought the book would be good to further that endeavor.

I have been challenged by two particular thoughts this week. The first is this:

“Jesus became an event. He was a stopping place for sacred history. The birth of Jesus was like arriving at the top of a mountain peak after a long, difficult climb: You can look back and see the whole trip in perspective, see everything in true relationship. And you don’t have to climb anymore.”

Lights a Lovely Mile, Eugene Peterson

I have read that paragraph over and over this week. Peterson’s capacity to use the English language to craft a beautiful thought is unrivaled, but honestly, as I’ve read and re-read the passage this week, I’m still trying to grasp the essence of what Peterson is communicating.

Yes, Jesus is a stopping place for sacred history and the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies. Only from the perspective of Jesus can one truly understand the Old Testament. But, that last phrase, “And you don’t have to climb anymore” confuses me. Why do I feel like I’m still climbing?

Perhaps I’m not climbing, but rather I’m running. I’m reminded of Paul’s counsel to the Corinthian church:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.

1 Corinthians 9:24 (NIV)

Whether I’m climbing or running, I feel like there is so much further I have to go on the journey to be like Jesus, so I haven’t squared that circle with Peterson’s thought just yet. But, I’m working on it.

The second of Peterson’s thoughts I’ve pondered endlessly this week is this:

“The bottom step in a staircase is neither better or worse than the top step: It is good in its own right and a way of getting upstairs.”

Lights a Lovely Mile, Eugene Peterson

I like this imagery by Peterson. Most days I feel like I’m still closer to the bottom step than the top, but at least I’m on the staircase, and I’m still climbing. There are days I don’t feel like I’ve made any progress. I look back and the bottom seems so close. I look up and the top looks so far away. It’s good to be reminded that the bottom step is no better or worse than the top. It’s just a step. The question I’ve wrestled with all week is: Am I still on the staircase?

At least Peterson has me thinking…

Advent Rambling

The dawn of another Advent season has me thinking, as well. I suppose Peterson’s analogy of the staircase is appropriate for me this Advent season. Advent is a time to look back to the coming of Christ, but also to look forward to His coming again. It is a season of anticipation and preparation. An event over the past week has caused me to contemplate an integral part of preparing for Advent.

There is on my 40 mile route to work a place where the local constabulary likes to hang out to monitor traffic. Many times on my way to or from work, I’ll see an officer parked at this same location. I know he/she is likely to be there, and as I approach this location I always glance down to insure that my foot hasn’t gotten heavy on the accelerator of my truck. I think that’s called accountability.

So, last week I’m driving along and I pass this location, and sure enough, there sits the police officer. I glance down and yup, I’m only going 74 miles per hour. Should be fine, right? That’s what I thought until after I passed the officer. After my passing, the officer pulls out onto the interstate. So, I slow down to 70. Who wants to see blue lights in their rearview? Not me!

So, why not think of Advent like that police car? When there is the possibility of blue lights in the rearview, the speed you drive suddenly takes on a new importance. That blinker that you frequently fail to use when making a lane change or a turn suddenly matters. Oh yeah! That yellow light on the traffic signal no longer means “Hurry up and get through the light.” It now means, “Slow down, fool, there’s a police officer behind you!” What a difference blue lights in the rearview make.

Advent can serve as a reminder of the fact that just as accountability is a part of being a licensed driver, so too, it is a part of being a disciple of Jesus Christ. What we do with our lives does matter. How we think, act, speak, these are a part of the fabric of our response to God’s grace, and we will someday face an accounting of our living.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus told his disciples to “Be ready!”

42 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. 43 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming,he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.

Matthew 24: 42-44 (NIV)

A Couple of Rants

I’ve rambled, so now let me rant. My first rant has to do with the way we Christians treat one another. This article explains it better than I can, but suffice it to say when I read how the Louisiana Annual Conference and its leadership threatened its retired clergy with retributive action should they preach or worship in any congregation that had disaffiliated from the UMC, I was livid. How dare they! Is it even legal? So much for having an “amicable” separation.

I was livid, for sure, but it wasn’t long until the Holy Spirit gently reminded me that I didn’t have a dog in that hunt anymore. I wasn’t “retired.” I left! Still, I have many friends and former colleagues who were now faced with a decision that was imposed upon them in a totally unjust manner. I could have stayed and fought the fight with them. Would have probably been the appropriate thing to do.

Honestly, I just sensed (from one who had been on the “inside”) how ugly it was going to get, and selfishly, just didn’t want to subject myself to the treatment some of my former colleagues have since experienced. I should probably repent for leaving, but I still believe it was the right decision.

One final rant–and, it’s about politics. Did you see the big debate on Thursday? You know? The one between Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida and Gov. Gavin Newsom of California. I’m not going to critique the debate, but I am going to rant about the debate on abortion. Actually, I’m going to say they were debating the entirely wrong point–at least from a Christian perspective. The debate was over when an abortion should be allowed–six weeks or fifteen weeks (or as some Democrats suggest, up until the moment of birth).

The question is not when should it be allowed. The debate should begin with this question: What is in the womb?

My answer? A person. At the moment of conception or the moment of birth what is in the womb is a person. How do we treat a person in our culture? We do not kill them. Period. Either at the beginning of life, at the end of life, or at any point in between. Any debate on the issue of abortion must begin with the answer to the question “What is in the womb?” Without agreement on the answer to that foundational question, no answer will be sufficient.

I’m ranting because both the Democrats and the Republicans have the answer wrong. Six weeks, fifteen weeks or 39 weeks, there is a life in the womb, and the only Pro-Life answer is to not support abortion under any circumstance. Yes, it’s an extreme position, but I hold it, and it’s out there now, so do with it what you will. Perhaps that’s another reason I’m no longer a Democrat or Republican.

We can talk about alternatives to abortion another time. That’s enough rambling and ranting for one day. Besides, I have to preach today. I have a lot of praying to do between now and 10:30 a.m., to get my heart and my mind right after the week I’ve had. All this rambling and ranting has distracted me.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Learning How to Love (Part 1)…

I suppose it’s appropriate that I’m thinking a lot about love this week. After all, yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and I shared a message with the folks at Beulah Community Church on the biblical understanding of love (watch it here). As much as I think I understand the concept of love, I find that I struggle greatly with the actual act of loving. That’s the rub for me.

Those of us who have grown up in church have heard these words all our lives: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12: 30-31, Lynn Paraphrase). We’ve heard them, and I, for one, have always asked, “What does it mean to love God?” Let’s not talk about loving others. I want to know what it looks like to love God? What does it feel like to love God? Sometimes I think it’s easier to love others than it is to love God. Of course, the Apostle John wonders, “if we don’t love people we can see, how can we love God, whom we cannot see?” (1 John 4:21). I assume if you’re reading this that you do, deep in your heart want to love God, too. Like me, you just want to know how.

An Encounter with Jesus

I think to know how to love God, we first need to understand the context in which Jesus made the statement. Jesus made the statement after his authority was challenged. The Pharisees were attempting to entrap him, so they had challenged him on the issue of Jews paying taxes. Pharisees didn’t like paying taxes to the occupying government, and worse, they hated the Jews who served as tax collectors for the Romans. Inhabitants were responsible for paying 1% of the income as an income tax, but in addition to that tax there were import and export taxes, crop taxes, sales taxes, property taxes, an emergency tax and others. Sounds familiar to me! Jesus said, “Pay your taxes.” He wasn’t going to be trapped.

Then, some Sadducees approached and asked a question about the resurrection. Hey? If the Pharisees couldn’t trap him, perhaps the Sadducees might. Sadducees and Pharisees were like political parties in the United States, except they were religious parties and they held differing opinions on theological issues. It might be more akin to Baptists and Methodists today. They’re both Christian, but with different understandings on certain issues. Sadducees didn’t believe in the resurrection from the dead, and to prove their point, they chose to challenge Jesus with an outrageous puzzle. We won’t go into what Jesus said to them. Suffice it to say, Jesus answered well.

One lawyer who had been witnessing the entire episode perceived that Jesus was a pretty smart fellow, so he thought he might give it a try. Now, think about this: a lawyer is steeped in the law—even the religious law. So, the lawyer asks a religious question, and if he was asking a religious question, he was expecting a religious answer. That’s exactly what Jesus gave him.

Jesus answered the Jewish lawyer with the Jewish “Shema.” It’s Deuteronomy 6:4 – 5, and every self-respecting Jewish male recited it every morning as part of his daily devotional. Listen to Deut. 6: 4 – 9: 

4 “Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. 5 And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. 6 And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today. 7 Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up. 8 Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders. 9 Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Loving God, for the Jew, as it was meant to be, was about living in the constant awareness of God’s presence and grace. The purpose of the Shema was to incorporate God into daily life. Daily living was the context for teaching children about God. Daily living was the context for experiencing God. God was not just for one day a week. God was for every day. God IS for every day. If we don’t experience God somewhere, some way every day, we need to question whether we experience God at all.

Jesus told the lawyer, “Love God with all your life—heart and soul (the emotional & spiritual self), mind (the intellectual self), and strength (the physical self). Jesus was saying, “Employ all your energies—put your whole self into it. In one word—be passionate. I love the way Eugene Peterson says it in The Message: Jesus said, “The first in importance is, ‘Listen, Israel: The Lord your God is one; so love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.’

What are we passionate about? That’s a fair question, isn’t it? It’s fair because we know we invest in those things we’re passionate about. Here’s a list of passions. Where’s yours?

  • Movies
  • Clothes
  • Sports
  • Politics
  • Music
  • Food (my personal favorite)

We can even be passionate about faith, but that’s usually only one day a week. If we’re not careful, we can let life steal our passion. That’s what happens to most of us in our relationship with God.

Passion Killers

Pastor Rick Warren has a list of what he calls passion killers. He says these things are what kill our passion for Christ. First is an unbalanced schedule. Life is about balance. Too much of anything, even a good thing can be bad. Work is a great thing, but too much work can kill our passion for our spouse, our hobby, our children, or our relationship with God. 

Second is an unused talent. I know when I was a DS, and I wasn’t preaching every week, I could feel myself losing that passion. I’m passionate about preaching. I may not be very good at it, but I love to do it. You pay me to be your pastor, but I preach for free. 

A third passion killer Warren identifies is unconfessed sin. Guilt is a great passion killer. Warren says that, “We don’t walk around thinking, ‘I have a sin in my life. I am a guilty person’.” Rather, we rationalize it. Consciously we think, “It’s no big deal,” but subconsciously it gnaws at us. We don’t have to carry that guilt, though. Christ died for our sin. Confess it, and move on. Don’t let guilt kill your passion for God.

A fourth passion killer is unresolved conflict. Conflict divides us from one another. If there’s conflict at work, you don’t want to go to work. If there’s conflict at home, you don’t want to go home. If there’s conflict at church, you don’t want to go to church. Conflict will kill our passion for anything, and that includes God.

A fifth passion killer Warren notes is an unsupported lifestyle. He says we’re created for relationship, and if we live in loneliness, we find our passion for most all life diminished. God created us for relationship with himself, and with each other.

Loving God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength is about rediscovering that passion. How do we restore the passion in our lives? Three words: desire, devotion and discipline.

Three D’s

Desire is the first characteristic of loving God. We’ll never love God unless we first desire Him. We pursue the passions of our lives –whatever they are—yet, they too often leave us unfulfilled. It might just be because our hearts are made for God. I love how the wisdom writer says it in Ecclesiastes 3:11: Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.

Devotion is the next characteristic of loving God. There is no better picture of absolute devotion than a man and woman standing at the altar on their wedding day. The smiles, the endearing gazes into each other’s eyes, the little wink as the vows are spoken to each other, and the anticipation of the coming night.

I get a good view of this every time I perform a wedding, and even the worst couple, in that moment, are carried away in heart, soul, mind and strength. The great A. W. Tozer said, “We are called to an everlasting preoccupation with God.” That is devotion, and as husband and wife stand at the altar hopelessly devoted to each other, I am reminded that we are the bride of Christ.

The final word is discipline. I don’t like that word mainly because I have little self-will. It makes me cringe and think I have to do legalistic things to meet God’s approval. I think it’s being “obedient.” Obedience is not how we love God. Obedience is a response to love. Obedience is evidence of our love. Discipline is not law, but is a means of experiencing God’s grace. Spiritual disciplines like fasting, confession, Bible reading, solitude, worship and prayer are tangible ways we incorporate God in the every day.

As I write this morning, I am reminded that Lent begins Wednesday, and Lent is the perfect time to practice the spiritual disciplines more intentionally so that I can love God more meaningfully. Oh, and there’s one more discipline—the sacrament of Holy communion—it, too, is a way to incorporate God in the everyday. That’s what it means to love God—experiencing Him every day!

How will you experience God today…and everyday?

Until next time, keep looking up…

Lessons in Prayer…

Life has taught me a lot of lessons. Some of those lessons I learned the hard way, and some came rather easy. As I’ve reflected on prayer over the past four weeks, I discovered there were a number of lessons concerning prayer that I’ve learned that I thought if I wrote them down they would become more tangible to me. I want to share seven lessons on prayer that seem rather profound for me at this time in my faith journey.

Lesson #1

We are hard-wired to pray. When I say “we,” I don’t simply mean Christians. I mean people are hard-wired for prayer. God made us that way. I love what the writer of Ecclesiastes says in 3: 11, “He has planted eternity in the human heart…” With eternity in our hearts we long for a connection to something/someone beyond ourselves. There is a deep longing for the Divine which lies within us, and prayer is the language that connects us to God. No matter where we may go in the world, we will find praying people, whether those people be Christian, Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, Jewish or some other obscure faith. Prayer is at the core of what people of faith do. 

We all pray. No, we may not all have that set time each day that we consciously focus on matters of prayer, but we pray. Even if we don’t consider ourselves a praying person, when there’s a crisis, we treat prayer like a fire extinguisher. We run to it when we need it. While some of us my treat prayer like a fire extinguisher, others are prayer warriors that have learned to pray, as the Apostle Paul counsels, without ceasing. No matter. We are hard-wired to pray.

Lesson #2

No one feels they are very good at prayer. Jesus’ disciples came to him and asked Jesus to teach them how to pray. Think of the profound nature of the disciple’s request. Most of Jesus’ disciples were Jewish men who were taught to pray from a very early age, and most of them had done it twice daily since around the age of 12. These were praying people, and yet, when they saw Jesus praying, had the awareness that they weren’t very good at it.

We, too, (perhaps I should only speak for myself) feel inadequate to pray, and the reality of most of life is if we’re not good at something, we don’t do it. We get frustrated because we can’t develop a habit of prayer. We feel insecure in our knowledge of prayer. We are sometimes confused because we don’t see answers to prayer. Let me say all that makes us is normal.

I’m reminded of the words of Thomas Merton, one of the greatest men of prayer to ever live. Merton said, “But let us be convinced of the fact that (when it comes to prayer) we will never be anything else but beginners all our life!” We may go all our lives feeling we’re not very good at prayer, but let that not stop us from trying.

“But let us be convinced of the fact that (when it comes to prayer) we will never be anything else but beginners all our life!”

Thomas Merton

Lesson #3

Prayer is communion with God. If we feel confused in our prayer life, it may be because we are trying to make prayer something that it isn’t. Prayer is conversation with God, meant to keep us in communion with God.

Do you have a person you call your best friend yet never talk to them? Can I tell you about Bill? Bill was my best friend. My family and I moved to Kentucky for me to attend seminary. We didn’t know anyone in Kentucky. Sure, we’d get to know the church folks, and eventually some of the students from the seminary, but one day shortly after we moved, I looked out the back window of the parsonage and I saw someone mowing my yard—a two acre yard, I might add (I don’t know why anyone would leave a pastor responsible for a two acre yard, but that’s for another blog). I met Bill. Bill was not a church member (he did eventually become one, and I had the honor of baptizing him), he was just a neighbor. We became best friends who saw each other almost every day. We went fishing together, to flea markets, to gospel singings. 

We eventually moved back to Louisiana. When we first moved I would talk to Bill on the phone once a week. Over time, it became once a month. It wasn’t long before it became every other month. As more time passed, it became once a year. Now, twenty years later, we keep up with each other on Facebook. We lost our communion because we stopped talking. Why would it be different with God?

Lesson #4

Prayer deepens our relationship with God. The Apostle James says in James 4:8—“Come close to God, and God will come close to you.” Prayer is the primary thing that makes us more like Jesus. That’s why the disciples would ask Jesus to teach them how to pray. If we want to be more like Jesus, we must pray. Service is great, but serving more will not transform us to be more like Jesus. Prayer transforms us. We pray hoping to change circumstances, but prayer is meant first to change us, and we are changed when our relationship to God is deepened.

Lesson #5

Prayer is not just an event, it’s an attitude. Oswald Chambers says, “Prayer is not only asking, but an attitude of mind which produces the atmosphere in which asking is perfectly natural.” The Apostle Paul counsels the believers in Thessalonica, “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). The Apostle Paul doesn’t mean that we are to constantly remain in our prayer closet, but we are to have an attitude and mind that we are always aware of the Person and the needs around us…to know that God is always present and always listening and always ready to hear. Prayer is not just an event, but an attitude.

Lesson #6

Prayer is simple, but not simplistic. Jesus gave his disciples the “model” prayer when he was asked to teach them to pray. The model Jesus gave is not a long, eloquent prayer, but rather a short, to-the-point statement, yet that short statement encompasses all that is necessary to nurture a life of prayer.

In “The Lord’s Prayer” (which really should be called “The Disciple’s Prayer) there is adoration—“Hallowed be Thy name.” There is confession—“Forgive us our trespasses…” There is supplication—“as we forgive those who trespass against us.” There is provision—“Give us today the bread we need.” There is a request for strength—“do not lead us into temptation.” That’s all deep stuff.

I’m going to paraphrase an early church mystic by the name of John Climacus. Climacus, in essence said, flowery and abundant words fill our minds with images and distracts us, while a single word can focus us in reflection. The more simple the prayer, the more potential for power, and that is not a simplistic idea.

Lesson #7

Prayer is far more significant than we realize. It is significant because it can release God’s power and provision in our lives, or I should say, prayer is the means whereby God’s power and provision is released in our lives, and that is significant. If we want to see God’s power and provision in our lives, then we must be persistent in prayer. That’s why Jesus would use the examples he gave his disciples.

Prayer is not a one and done thing. We must be like the persistent friend at the door. We must continue to ask, seek and knock. We must P. U. S. H. through in prayer. PUSH is an acronym that stands for Pray Until Something Happens. Power and provision come through our persistence. No, we don’t wear God down. Persistent prayer reflects our faith in the One to whom we pray, and faith can move mountains.

The profound nature of this particular lesson is visited upon me over and over again. Over a period of three years, Vanessa and I spent time in deep prayer seeking to discern where God was calling us in ministry and in life. He was calling us away from the United Methodist Church, and at that time, away from vocational ministry.

I learned the significance of prayer yet again as we entered into a period of prayer and discernment concerning planting a house church. That was at a time when I had no real desire to be in ministry leadership, but prayer reveals some really significant things!

There has yet been one more significant development as a result of a season of prayer, and that development has been to step back into the pulpit as a “pastor,” which is something I NEVER believed I would do. I believed my time in vocational ministry was done (I wanted it to be done). I was content to work, attend worship and fill the occasional pulpit. That could be satisfying, indeed. The Lord had other plans.

In September of last year, I was asked to “fill in” for three weeks at Beulah Methodist Church beginning in October. They were without a pastor and I couldn’t think of a good reason to tell them, “No.” At the end of the three weeks, no pastor had been appointed and they asked if I would stay on until the end of the year. Saying “No,” seemed a bit selfish since I had no other commitments, so I committed the congregation. I met with the congregation and stated in no uncertain terms that I was NOT their pastor. I was simply their guest preacher for this time. My commitment was to establishing and growing The House Church Movement. The Lord had other plans.

The Beulah Methodist Church congregation, long a United Methodist congregation, through their own time of discernment voted to become affiliated with the Evangelical Methodist Church, and to withdraw from the United Methodist Church (we’ll see how all that works out). On January 31, 2021, the Evangelical Methodist Church chartered a congregation named the Beulah Evangelical Methodist Church, and I was appointed its pastor by Rev. Kevin Brouillette, the District Superintendent for the area that includes the state of Louisiana. Prayer pervaded the entire experience, and that is significant.

The decision did not come hastily, or without persistence in prayer. Vanessa and I have been patiently listening over the three months we were preaching at Beulah to hear God’s voice and learn His direction for our lives.

We have been like the man who lived alone in a cabin by the lake. There was a large rock in front of the cabin. One night while he was sleeping, his cabin filled with light and the Lord appeared to him telling him he had work for the man to do. The Lord showed the man the large rock and told him, “I want you to push against that rock with all your might.”

The man undertook the mission, and day after day for years, the man went and with all his strength pushed against the rock. For years the rock never moved. Frustrated and weary from the struggle, he took the matter to the Lord in prayer. “Why would you have me push that rock for all these years with no hope of ever moving it?”

The Lord replied, “I didn’t ask you to move it. I asked you to push it, but in the pushing you became stronger. Look at your hands, your shoulders, your back. They’re all stronger because you were obedient. Now, I’ll move the rock.”

Vanessa and I believe the Lord is calling us to take this step of faith. We will serve the church as a bi-vocational pastor. That simply means I’ll continue my “day job” in the banking industry and serve the congregation, too.

Life and ministry have taught me a lot of lessons. None are more powerful than these practical lessons I’ve learned about prayer. I suspect that many of you are seeking clarity concerning God’s call on your life. My encouragement is to keep praying simple, persistent prayers. The Lord will eventually show you the way.

Until next time, keep looking up…