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I recently came across an illustration in Francis and Lisa Chan’s You and Me Forever that has been hard to forget. They described people who become so physically overweight that eventually they lose much of their ability to move on their own. They continue consuming, but their bodies are no longer putting that nourishment to work. Eventually, they may even become dependent on other people simply to continue feeding them. The Chans then make an intentionally uncomfortable comp

There are certain words that carry more weight depending on who says them. A compliment from a stranger can be encouraging. Recognition from a coworker can mean something. But there is something different about hearing affirmation from someone whose opinion matters deeply to us, from someone we respect, love, and want to honor. I think that is part of why two words from Jesus have been sitting heavily on my mind lately: “Well done.” In Matthew 25, Jesus tells of a master who

There are weeks when work seems to expand until it fills every available space. The inbox is never really empty. There is always another project, another responsibility, another person who needs something, another task we could finish if we just stayed at it a little longer. Even when we stop working physically, our minds often keep going. We replay conversations, solve tomorrow’s problems, and measure the day by how much we accomplished. Then, on the other side, we can start

There are seasons when the Christian life can become very busy. There are Bible studies to prepare for, people to encourage, prayers to remember, needs at church, opportunities to serve, habits we are trying to strengthen, sins we are trying to overcome, and responsibilities we genuinely want to carry well. We can be trying very hard to follow Jesus and still find ourselves exhausted by the effort of being a “good Christian.” I have felt that struggle myself at times. I can b

Most of us do not wake up in the morning and consciously decide that God is going to come second. It usually happens more quietly than that - at least that is my experience. We wake up thinking about the meeting we need to prepare for, the problem we need to solve, the bill we need to pay, the appointment we need to remember, or the conversation we have been replaying in our head. Before long, our attention is scattered across a dozen legitimate concerns, and whatever feels m

We like things we can measure. We track progress, build routines, set goals, and look for visible evidence that our effort is working. At work, we watch the numbers. In our health, we may watch the scale or our waistlines, track our strength, or notice the way our clothes fit. In our spiritual lives, we can create a similar scoreboard: Did I pray enough? Was I patient today? Did I control my temper? Am I becoming more loving, joyful, peaceful, and disciplined? There is nothin

We live in a world built around self-improvement. We set goals, track habits, make plans, and look for better systems. We try to become healthier, more productive, more disciplined, and more emotionally steady. Much of that can be genuinely helpful. Growth requires intention, and Scripture certainly does not encourage passivity. But I have noticed how easily I can bring that same mindset into my relationship with God. I begin treating the Christian life like one more improvem

A couple of weeks ago in Honduras, one moment stayed with me more than any other. Our team was helping build a house while, nearby, another part of the group was studying the Bible with the woman whose home we were building. By the grace of God, after hearing the gospel, she decided that she wanted to put on Christ in baptism. That alone would have been enough to make the day unforgettable. But then something happened that I have not been able to get off my mind. As the group

There is something about a mission trip that can make the Christian life feel abnormally clear. For a little while, so much of what normally competes for our attention gets pushed to the side. The schedule is built around service. The conversations keep circling back to people, needs, and open doors. Prayer feels more natural. Encouragement feels more intentional. We are surrounded by brothers and sisters moving in the same direction, trying to do good in the name of Christ.

Over the past few weeks in this VBS-themed series, we’ve looked at what it means to be called by the gospel, what our faith communicates under pressure, and what it looks like for devotion to outlast excitement. This final post brings us to a fitting ending: how God uses His Word to lead searching hearts to Jesus. This is how we conquer. Most of us know what it feels like to search. We may not always say it out loud, but we search for answers, for clarity, for direction, for

Last week in this VBS-themed series, we looked at what it means to be called by the gospel and then what our faith communicates when life gets hard. This week’s theme moves us into another necessary part of discipleship: what does it look like to stay with Jesus after the excitement fades? Because there is a certain kind of energy that comes with the beginning of something. A new habit. A new challenge. A new commitment. At first, it feels fresh. Full of possibility. We pictu

Last week, as our VBS series began, we looked at what it means to be called by the gospel. This week’s theme turns in a different direction: what does our faith communicate when life gets hard? That question matters because pressure has a way of revealing what is really inside us. Most of us know that from experience. When life is easy, it is simpler to sound patient, calm, and trusting. But when we are stressed, embarrassed, treated unfairly, or pushed into a corner, somethi

This past week, our congregation had it's annual VBS, and I’ve been thinking about how God uses simple and fun themes to instill deep truths into our hearts. This year’s VBS walks through four movements in the book of Acts all with a fun explorer theme (think Indiana Jones). Night one is about being called. Night two is about communicating Jesus through both life and words. Night three is about staying committed when faith gets hard. And night four reminds us that God’s Word

We have come to the end of our study on making disciples. We’ve spent weeks thinking deeply, reading carefully, and reflecting honestly. We’ve worked through truth that has challenged us, encouraged us, and, I hope, stretched us. When a series ends, there can be a quiet temptation to think the work is mostly done. We finished the lessons. We covered the material. We made it to the end. But when it comes to the Great Commission, reaching the end of the study is not the end of

There’s a question some Christians ask as they think about the Great Commission and Jesus’ call to “go and make disciples of all nations”: Where do I need to go to serve Christ? It’s a valid question. It makes us think about purpose, sacrifice, and calling. It reminds us that the gospel is meant to move, and that the mission of God is bigger than our own lives, cities, and routines. But there is another question underneath it: What if the first place God wants to send us is t

Most of us can name someone who shaped our faith. Maybe it was a parent who prayed with us when we were young. A Bible class teacher who made Scripture come alive. A friend who asked deeper questions than anyone else. A mentor who walked with us through confusion, sin, or spiritual drift. Someone who didn’t just teach us truth, but helped us see what faithfulness looked like in real life. And when we think about those people, one thing becomes clear: the faith was never meant

Most growth in life is quiet. We tend to notice the big moments. The breakthrough. The achievement. The visible result. But most real growth does not happen in a single dramatic flash. It happens slowly, often invisibly, through repeated habits that seem ordinary at the time. A marriage grows through daily conversations, not just anniversary trips or special occasions. A child grows through ordinary meals, bedtime prayers, correction, and encouragement. Strength or weight los

We live in a time that prizes independence. We like flexibility. Privacy. Autonomy. We like the feeling of being self-sufficient, of handling things on our own, of not needing too much from anyone else. These attitudes are core to the culture of the United States. And if we're not careful, that mindset can quietly shape our faith too. We may still attend church. We may still believe the right things. But underneath it all, we can begin to treat our spiritual life like a priva

There is a tendency many of us have when we think about evangelism or disciple-making. We naturally focus on the beginning. We think about the moment someone says yes to Jesus. The moment of conversion. The moment of baptism. The moment everything seems to start. And those moments matter deeply. They are beautiful. They are worth celebrating. There is real joy in watching someone come to faith, and Scripture gives us every reason to rejoice when that happens. But those moment

Most of us did not come to faith because of a perfectly timed speech or a flawlessly delivered presentation. There may have been a moment when things finally clicked through things like a sermon, a conversation, a Bible study, a question that stayed with us, or a truth we could no longer ignore. But if we look a little closer, there was often something behind that moment. A relationship. Someone who showed us what faith looked like in real life. Someone who listened. Someone