“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” – John 10:10b
During my mom’s final few years of life, she began unloading her material possessions. Each time my sisters and I visited my parents’ home, we were reminded to take home an antique clock or stake a claim on one of the antique radios, vintage Hummel figurines, or Christmas village houses.
With her earthly journey winding down, Mom understood that her possessions would not be accompanying her to Heaven. She understood Paul’s words from 2 Corinthians 4:18b: “For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” Though Mom couldn’t take these possessions with her, she experienced joy knowing that her beloved antique European stove and other heirlooms would continue to be enjoyed by her children.
While these gifts were and are appreciated, they are just as transient for my sisters and me. We’ll enjoy them for a season and then pass them on to our children. Eventually, a figurine may break, an old radio may be discarded because it no longer works, or the Christmas Village may be lost in a fire. Ultimately, these things are all temporary.
When Jesus came to give us life—abundant lives—he was focused on spiritual matters. He traveled lightly and told his apostles to do the same. Our abundant, Spirit-filled lives begin the moment we become a Christian. He wants us to present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God—not once we get to Heaven, but today. He wants us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds not when our earthly lives are over, but this very moment (See Romans 12:1-2). Eternal life is not something that begins once I die—it’s a journey I began when I became a follower of Christ.
While I appreciate the various family heirlooms I’ve received, they are fleeting. If the thieves don’t get them, the moths and rust will (See Matthew 6:19-21). The real gift my parents gave me was taking me to worship services every Sunday. They modeled kindness, servanthood, and other lasting spiritual attributes for me—things unseen. Mom’s beloved figurines will not last, but my memories of her caring for special needs children have shaped me and will go with me into eternity.
What unseen, eternal things are you leaving your children? Are you helping them store up treasures in Heaven? Are you modeling the abundant life Jesus calls us to live?
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:18
In the fall of 2002, I approached the front gate at Spangdahlem Air Base, Germany, one morning and found myself in a queue of about 20 vehicles waiting to enter the base. We had an exercise going on and our security forces personnel had their drug dogs out to randomly sniff the trunks of various cars. I was going to be there a while.
I tuned the radio to Spangdahlem’s own radio channel and heard the DJ announce that John Costello, the base’s financial counselor, was up next. John worked in our Family Support Center which was part of my squadron. In that sense, John worked for me.
For the next 10 minutes, while stuck in line at the front gate, I listened to John give outstanding financial advice and answer questions from a few callers. He was informative, witty, and passionate. Throughout his career, he had spent considerable office time with Airmen struggling to make ends meet. This radio program was one of the ways he did preventive maintenance on our troops’ spending and savings habits. I appreciated the things John shared and was proud that he was a member of the 52nd Mission Support Squadron.
When I finally made it to the office, I decided to call John to let him know I had heard his program and appreciated his efforts. He wasn’t there, so I left a message for him with Erm Rodriguez-Heffner, the head of the Family Support Center. She assured me she would pass along my message.
That afternoon, Erm called me back. She said something along the lines of, “Sir, I gave John your message and he’s like a kid in a candy store over here. I mean, his face is beaming. He told me he’s been doing that radio program for many years, and this is the first time someone in his chain of command told him he did a good job.”
I share this story not to pat myself on the back. My phone call that morning took all of two minutes and my words were not eloquent. If anything, I should have given him that feedback earlier in my assignment.
No, I share the experience because it taught me an important life lesson: words matter. Taking the time to show appreciation—to say, “You done good!” or “I’m proud of you!”—can make all the difference in the world to the person who hears it. It may cause their face to shine brightly as they experience the joy of “returning to the candy store” of their youth. Never underestimate the power of a simple gesture—a simple thanks. Your feedback, however simple or ineloquent, may help someone get through the day, or may sustain them through the next year or longer.
Have you thanked your spouse lately?
How about your children or parents?
How long has it been since your letter carrier, barista, preacher, waiter, checkout clerk, employee, or child’s teacher were told their efforts matter?
“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.” – Jeremiah 29:13
“If you seek him, he will be found by you…” – 1 Chronicles 28:9b
I’m not a gifted seeker. Search and recovery don’t come naturally to me. When my childhood shoes went missing, my mom would implore me to look for them. After 5 seconds, I would return empty-handed.
“Did you look under the laundry pile in the closet?”
“No.”
“Did you look under your bed?”
“No.”
“How about on the porch?”
“Not exactly.”
I didn’t find my shoes because I wasn’t sincere in my search. I wanted them to magically appear without any effort on my part. I’m afraid I’m the same way today with keys and other missing things, only now it is my wife who must ask, “Did you look in your pants’ pockets?” When the keys are eventually found, she reminds me, “You’re a mess.”
Are we the same way with Jesus? In Matthew 7:7, He tells us, “Seek, and you will find.” I’m all about the finding part. I long for the relationship, the connection, the hidden treasure. But I’d like it delivered on a silver platter. No assembly, or seeking, required.
Seeking Jesus involves more than just loving Him or even following His commandments. It’s a lifelong, all-encompassing, intense pursuit. It’s more than just a priority—it’s THE priority. It’s searching the closet for your shoes as if your life depends on them because with Jesus, your spiritual life does depend on Him. To find Him, other things in the closet will get turned over and tossed out.
During my teen years, my frustrated father once called a family meeting in response to his missing car keys. Determined to find them, he had us walk across each floor of our home, following a grid pattern. We were to flip over every cushion and open every drawer. We were to leave no stone, pillow, or magazine unturned. “We’re going to find them,” he declared, “if it’s the last thing we do!”
What does an intense search for Jesus look like? This morning, did you begin or continue your intense search for the Savior? As you reviewed your daily “to do” list, was Jesus even on it?
Seeking Jesus involves:
Talking to Him (See 1 Thessalonians 5:17). I can’t imagine a morning where my wife and I say nothing to each other. No “Good morning” or “I love you” or “Go make coffee!” The silence would be weird and awkward. It wouldn’t reflect two people who care about each other and are seeking connection. Likewise, I can’t say I’m sincerely seeking Jesus when I rarely if ever touch base with Him in prayer.
Spending time in God’s Word (See 2 Timothy 3:16-17). My sons and their wives are voracious readers. During a recent family holiday, I noticed one of my daughters-in-law reading a book in the car, on the back porch, while playing cards, and even during a movie. The book was always with her, like an appendage. I didn’t have to ask if she was into the book—her actions spoke volumes. Are we that way with the Bible? Would someone examining our daily routine describe us as really into God’s book? We can’t describe ourselves as truly seeking Jesus if we have little to no interest in reading about Him.
Connecting with other Seekers (See Matthew 18:20). It isn’t enough for my daughter-in-law to read books. She is compelled to be a part of a book club—a group of likeminded friends who come together regularly to discuss a chosen book. If we’re truly seeking Jesus, one would expect us to spend time with others in the same pursuit. That includes corporate worship to God, which we’re commanded to do (See Hebrews 10:25). But it also includes caring for, fellowshipping with, and bearing the burdens of other seekers—our church family. We’re more likely to “find Dad’s keys” if we work together.
Being still(See Psalm 46:10). We ultimately found my dad’s keys by stopping what we were doing and helping him think about where he last had them. Sometimes we find Jesus not in activity but in quiet and stillness—on a mountaintop, in a hospital bed, or at a graveside. Maybe the problem isn’t that Jesus hasn’t tried to communicate with us, but that we haven’t been listening.
As I write these words, I realize I have work to do! I’m praying that God will help me to become a better seeker of Jesus. And that by diligently searching, I’ll find Him.
“… so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine… Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.” – Ephesians 4:14-15
Young children live in the moment—they focus on “being.” A toddler concerns herself with splashing in the tub, not being able to swim laps. A preschooler is preoccupied with ramming his tricycle into a chair, not winning the Tour de France. For young children, existing in the moment—being—is enough.
As children mature, they transition from the simplicity of “being” to the promise of “becoming.” No longer content to just splash water in the tub, a young girl may notice an Olympic swimmer on television. She wonders what it would be like to swim like that. She may even ask for swimming lessons. A young boy transitions from tricycle to bicycle and then watches his teenage brother ride a dirt bike on a mountain trail. “I want to do that!” he declares. Being—the status quo—is no longer enough. The focus shifts to becoming something more.
While there are childlike traits that Jesus admires (See Matthew 18:3), we can’t afford to remain spiritual infants. Christians are called to grow in our faith—to become more like Jesus every day. The note from the margin reads: Spiritual growth is a sign—evidence of our faith.
We find concerns over spiritual stagnancy throughout the Bible. We’re told to “move beyond the elementary teachings about Christ and be taken forward to maturity” (Hebrews 6:1). We’re encouraged to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18; See also Colossians 1:10). The writer of Hebrews also calls us to transition from elementary truths— “milk”—to solid food (See Hebrews 5:12-14).
Our young swimmer and bicyclist will not become something grand overnight. They’ll need sustained determination, training, proper nutrition, and a few encouraging mentors along the way. We need the same on our spiritual journeys. Our attitude should be like that of the apostles who said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” (Luke 17:5).
An adult playfully splashing in a child’s swimming pool is a humorous sight. An adult Christian who never leaves the spiritual shallow end to become something more isn’t funny at all.
Instead, let’s strive to become something more this year. Let’s grow, a little more each day, into the image of Christ. With 2023, we have a new year, a fresh start, full of new opportunities.
“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.” – 1 Corinthians 3:7
The current mantra for the Philadelphia 76er’s basketball team is “Trust the Process.” They believe that if they consistently focus on making good decisions and doing the right things, good outcomes will follow. Conversely, if they become preoccupied with outcomes—especially short-term failure—they won’t address the root causes of that failure, and nothing will ever change.
Christians need to trust the process. I’m afraid we sometimes become disheartened by outcomes—a congregation’s size, attendance trends, or number of baptisms. Instead, we need to focus on praying, meditating on God’s Word, loving our neighbors, evangelizing, and striving to live more like Jesus. When we work on those foundational aspects of Christianity, good outcomes usually follow.
I’m part of a weekly prison ministry. Prior to this past summer, we had talked to more than a thousand prisoners over six years. We’d told them about Jesus and invited them to worship with us upon their release. No one ever did. We taught and hopefully encouraged struggling men, but that hadn’t translated into a tangible outcome. It was easy to ask, “Are we making any difference?”
That all changed in the summer of 2022. One inmate who had faithfully attended our classes was released from prison and decided to pay our congregation a visit. For someone who hadn’t stepped foot inside a church building for several years, this was a bold step. We studied with him some more, and he was baptized into Christ. He’s turned his life around and now attends regularly. Praise God!
Since then, four other former prisoners have visited and two are regulars. We’re working with each of them to address reintegration needs and, more importantly, spiritual needs. After watching us plant over a thousand seeds over six years, God brought forth a harvest in His perfect timing. In retrospect, I’m so thankful we didn’t give up on the ministry due to a perceived lack of success.
Trusting the process brings peace. We let go and let God. We learn to develop patience, knowing that some harvests take longer than others. As Robert Louis Stevenson put it, “Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.” The note from the margin reads: Seed-planting is process. The outcome—the harvest—belongs to God.
“for I find my delight in your commandments, which I love. I will lift up my hands toward your commandments, which I love, and I will meditate on your statutes.” – Psalm 119:47-48
My preacher friend, Wayne, recently made a comment that stuck with me for days. During a sermon, he said, “We tend to like what we study and study what we like.” The more time we spend in God’s Word, the more we appreciate what it has to offer. And the more we appreciate what the Bible offers, the more time we’ll want to spend reading and meditating upon it.
Wayne said the principle is true for just about any pursuit and referred to music. He’s not a fan of classical music and thus doesn’t appreciate what it offers. He may recognize the most popular pieces but doesn’t seek them out and can’t tell you much about them.
Another friend of mine, Jenny Diamond, a music expert, backed this up. She said a trained person can listen to a classical piece and tell you exactly which instrument, like the oboe or French horn, is playing the melody. Her young music students often cannot. She added that a trained musician can tell you what musical period a piece of classical music comes from, be it the Renaissance, Baroque, or Romantic period, just by listening to it. There are characteristics in the writing of composers from each period that a trained ear can recognize.
Jenny listens to and knows classical music. A lifetime of study allows her to appreciate the subtleties, and she’s able to convey those to her students. The more she listens and studies, the more she learns. And the more she learns, the more she wants to listen and study. The two go hand in hand. Her passion for music didn’t happen by chance.
Wayne and I, on the other hand, are classical music novices. We don’t recognize the subtleties or time periods. We can’t pick out the oboe in the melody. We haven’t invested time and energy in this type of music and, as a result, our appreciation for it is at the surface level.
The note from the margin reads: Don’t expect to love, delight in, or lift your hands to something on which you have not meditated. Our love for something—be it a person, a hobby, or a type of music—flows from the investment we make in it.
If you find yourself not loving or even understanding the Bible, ask yourself, “Have I invested in it?”
My first encounter with Ron Swift involved the negotiation of a bride price, as practiced in many countries in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. My eldest son, Jason, had spent the summer of 2013 Facebook-stalking Ron’s daughter, Rachel, as she did mission work, rode elephants, and sported dreadlocks in Cambodia. I may have looked over Jason’s shoulder a time or two, wondering if Rachel was the one. Quite boldly and prematurely, I messaged Ron, offering 50 camels in exchange for Rachel, so that my son would have a life companion and someone to make him Ramen noodles. When Ron immediately accepted my offer, I knew that regardless of what happened with our children, he and I would get along just fine.
My next significant encounter with Ron occurred on the eve of Jason and Rachel’s 2014 wedding. The wedding venue had just held another event, and we couldn’t set up the outdoor seating until around midnight. So, in the light of the moon, Ron and I and a few others set up rows of chairs in a field in a place called Bald Knob. (Ron and I never saw any knobs, bald or otherwise.) The next morning, while officiating the ceremony, I walked up to Ron and handed him the 50th and final camel, this one about three inches tall. The bride price was paid. The exchange of “I do’s” and rings soon followed.
Over the past eight years, my love and appreciation for Ron has only grown. He and his wife, Jackie, were crazy full-time RVers like my wife and I once were… living “in a van down by the river.” His love for Jackie, his children (Rachel and Nathan), my son, Jason, and the rest of his family was expressed regularly and never in doubt. You knew where you stood with Ron and that was a good place to be. The same could be said for “Libby,” his “best dog ever.” Ron understood dogs and dogs understood Ron.
Aside from his family, his dog, and his faith, Ron’s big passion was long-distance bike racing. He was good at it and found community with his fellow racers. When deciding the best places to park their RV for the next season, Ron always factored in the availability of suitable bike trails. Even after taking a nasty spill (or two or three) and injuring himself, he always looked forward to healing up and getting back on his bike.
Ron also faced a challenge most of us will never face—Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). This condition resulted from many years of intense, stressful work as an anesthesiologist—specifically while taking care of critically ill or injured patients in the operating room. Few know the pressure of holding someone’s life in their hands. I mention it here because Ron never shied away from the subject. In fact, he and Jackie allowed me to interview them and include their story in my book, Faith in the Margins. Ron called the condition his “thorn in the flesh.” He shared his story because he wanted to help others going through similar struggles. He was empathetic to what others were facing.
In discussing his illness, Ron would refer to 2 Corinthians 12:7-9. Like Paul, Ron pleaded with God to take away his illness. As with Paul, the Lord’s response was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Like Paul, Ron was willing to, “boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” Although PTSD was devastating to Ron, he told me he was learning to trust God’s sufficient grace. With each episode, God’s grace emerged.
So, Ron and his faithful companion, Jackie, endured much. He suffered many rough, debilitating days in anguish, unable to function. But there were also some peaceful days—some mountaintops. Playing guitar for family at Christmas. Exploring new places by RV with Jackie. Riding with friends. Vacations with family. Wrestling with his dog. All mountaintops.
But the valleys were deep. Jackie told me that Satan gives you this false hope that things will improve, but sometimes they don’t. She said that if Satan was using this illness to crush Ron—to put him in a headlock—we must remember that Christ has Satan in a headlock.
Toward the end of the interview, Ron said, “We know how the story ends. Christ wins the battle. And I’m in Christ. If that doesn’t give me peace, nothing will. Listen, I wish the situation were different. I pray that it will get better. It might. But it might not. If God doesn’t take this away—if this is as good as it gets, so be it. I’m at peace with that. Let him use me for his glory.” Jackie added, “We have a home in Heaven. And we belong to a heavenly Father who loves us and gives us sonship through Christ (See Galatians 3:26-29).”
Ron said, “I’m counting on that sonship. Think about the prodigal son for a moment. He made some bad choices and ends up eating with pigs, an experience not unlike the valleys mental illness will put you in. But the story doesn’t end there. He ends up expecting, best case scenario, to be a servant to his father. To just be shown mercy. But his father does the unimaginable—he elevates his lost, messed up son to an heir! And he throws a party! My only hope in all this is that God will somehow do the same for me. I’m counting on it.”
Yesterday afternoon, God called Ron home. His family, friends, and all who knew Ron are devastated. In losing Ron, we lost someone special.
But death doesn’t get the last word here. Satan doesn’t have the final say.
Ron was a Christian, you see, and that changes everything. 1 John 5:4 says, “For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith.” As a result, we can proclaim, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? … But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord, Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 15:54-57). What a promise!
In the end, Ron’s words to me were prophetic: “We know how the story ends. Christ wins the battle. And I’m in Christ.”
I paid a silly bride price of camels for Rachel, but Christ quite seriously gave his very life to purchase those who are in Him. And Ron was, and remains, “in Him.”
We don’t know exactly what Heaven will be like, but we know it will be something special. Ron will exchange his RV for a mansion just over the hilltop. I envision him upgrading his bike for a faster one that doesn’t crash. He’ll exchange his bumps and bruises for a crown. And maybe, at least symbolically, he’ll be reunited with every dog he’s ever owned. I see them pinning him down and licking his face. I can hear his laughter.
No more valleys—only mountaintops. No more anguish—only peace. Heaven is… as good as it gets. So, even as we cry today and in the days ahead, and there will be plenty of tears, we also need to remember Ron and smile. He was another of God’s special gifts to us. And he fought the good fight, he finished the race, and he kept the faith.
I just published my sixth book, Journey Through Genesis. Here’s a peek behind the curtain…
What’s it about?
It’s a devotional commentary on Genesis—the first book of the Bible. I cover all 50 chapters of Genesis, but unlike traditional commentaries, I don’t go verse by verse. Instead, I try to bring out salient points from each chapter—the things that spoke to me. I discuss ideas and principles that are applicable to my life. Hopefully, my readers can relate to that.
How did the book come about?
The original idea came from a discussion I had with my sister, Stacy, several years ago during a family gathering at Christmas. We were discussing my dream of doing some faith-based writing, and she mentioned a need for more writing that helps ordinary people to better understand and relate to the Bible. She planted a seed.
She was on to something?
Absolutely! The Bible is the most important, life-changing book ever written, containing the very words of God, and yet a 2021 survey of Americans found that 29% of people never read it and only 11% read it daily. Half of Americans read the Bible less than three times/year. More than a problem, that’s heartbreaking. It’s devastating to our culture and our future. A relationship with God—the most important relationship that exists—is built on two-way communication. We speak to God through prayer (Philippians 4:6-7 & 1 Thessalonians 5:17-18) and He speaks to us through the Bible (2 Peter 1:21, John 16:12-13, & 1 Corinthians 14:37). When we don’t read our Bibles, we cut God off, and the relationship becomes one-sided. If we also don’t pray, there’s no communication. Imagine a marriage relationship where neither spouse or only one spouse communicates. That’s a problem. This book is my modest attempt to encourage people to open or re-open their Bibles and let God talk to them.
Why are fewer people reading the Bible these days?
Lots of reasons. We’re busy. Our days are full of activities—working, playing, raising children, maintaining stuff, etc. I’m afraid, at the end of a long day, too often “mindlessly streaming Netflix” or some other activity trumps “meditating on God’s Word.” Too often the Bible doesn’t bubble up on our list of priorities. And, if that sounds like finger-pointing, know that the first finger is pointed at myself. I’ve got work to do.
I also think sometimes people view the Bible as old and outdated—a relic from the past. The old, dusty family Bible sits on Grandma’s bookshelf, next to her VHS player and flip phone. Quaint, but rarely opened. In the opening of my book, I compare many people’s views of the Bible to the way the young man views a bowl of flaky cereal in the 1992 Super Bowl commercial. He’s not sold on it—thinks it’s kind of boring—until he tries it. Like the young man in the commercial, sometimes we must taste something again “for the first time” in order to appreciate it.
So, you want people to try the Bible again for the first time?
Technically, that’s not possible. You can only try something for the first time once. Figuratively, though, it’s possible to see an old, familiar product in a new and different light. Old married couples can reflect on what first attracted them to their spouse and try to recapture the magic. You can retrieve the old bicycle gathering dust in the garage, wipe it off, grease the wheels, and take it for a ride on a new, exciting trail. Old things can be reimagined.
I’ve probably read or been told the story of Noah’s ark 200 times in my life. So, it’s tempting to not read it the 201st time. I mean, what else could God possibly want to communicate to me through that story? It turns out, quite a lot. When I approached it, and the rest of Genesis, with an open heart and a fresh set of eyes, God opened the spigot. I saw things at age 56 that I hadn’t seen before, and I wrote down what I learned.
Why Genesis?
Genesis provides the stage-setting—the context—for the rest of the Bible. To understand where you are and where you’re going, it helps to know where and how you began. We get that in the first few pages. This book of beginnings, written by Moses under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, sets forth the origin of the universe, humanity, culture, languages, marriage, family, sin, death, sacrifice, redemption, cities, and civilization. Genesis answers some of the most basic, yet profound questions you’ll ever ponder. “How did I end up as a human being on Planet Earth?” “Who’s responsible for this magnificent universe we live in?” “Why am I here?” To better understand our heavenly Father’s actions toward humankind throughout the Bible, it’s valuable to know how He felt about us right from the start.
As with your other books, you continue to self-publish. Why is that?
Unlike some writers who consider writing a career, for me it’s a hobby. I enjoy and benefit from the process. This book, as an example, had me opening God’s Word almost every day for the past nearly two years. That’s a good thing—a useful hobby. I hope others enjoy and share my book with their friends and neighbors. But I don’t track sales or proceeds and do very little marketing. I don’t enjoy that aspect of the process and don’t get caught up in that—not at my age. Turning my hobby into a business would suck the joy out of it for me.
I also like having complete control over content. When I wrote my books on hiking the Appalachian Trail, I didn’t want an outdoor/adventure publisher asking me to take out all the “God stuff,” nor did I want a Christian publisher asking me to take out references to bodily functions. On the AT, I experienced God and experienced some odd, humorous moments of bodily functions. With my books, you get what’s on my heart—the raw, real me—for better or worse. I don’t have a publishing company telling me what, when, or how to write.
What’s on the horizon?
I currently have two irons in the fire. The first is a memoir of sorts—scenes from my life and what I’ve learned along the way. I’ve been going through scrapbooks and photo albums and talking to family members. I’m finding that looking back on my life and trying to make sense of it is a challenging and useful exercise. I’m also working on a sequel to Faith in the Margins. I’ve gotten good feedback on that book and there’s always new material coming in. Beyond that, who knows? Maybe a Journey Through Exodus? Whatever I’m working on, you’ll find me with a cup of coffee either at Vienna Coffee Shop, the Blount County library, or on my back porch.
Final Thoughts?
First, I want to thank the “Fab 5” who read and provided feedback to me on early drafts of this book. Chase Turner, Todd Tipton, and Janet, Jason, and Kyle Johnson took this journey with me and provided key insights that helped me shape the narrative. They saw things I had missed and simply made the book better. I am eternally grateful to them!
I also just want to encourage everyone to read their Bible. Like I said, it’s the most important, life-changing book ever written. Sure, there are parts that can be tough to get through. But other parts provide hope and meaning and purpose. God reveals His love and His plan for humankind. Jesus tells us and shows us how to please God and live the very best life. For me to know what God’s Word can do and not share it would be like a physician having a life-saving drug and not prescribing it. With whatever time I have left, I hope my books can in some way point people to our amazing God.
I hope Journey Through Genesis—available on Amazon—will encourage people to pick up the Bible and “read it again for the first time.” I hope it draws out some practical applications of the text for you. I hope you’ll share it with others because you are my only marketing team. But whether you read my book or not, read God’s Word. It’s inspired. It’s the one and only God who created you and loves you wanting to have a conversation with you. I promise you reading and meditating on the Bible will change your life for the better.
On our way from the airport to the parsonage yesterday, I asked my friend Carl about projects needing done during our month in Maui. He thought for a moment and said, “If you see something that needs done, just do it.”
Hmmm.
I would have preferred, “Take out the garbage weekly.” Or “Offer an invitation at the end of your sermons.” Or “Brush your teeth regularly.” I also prefer when my wife tells me “The bed could be made” or “The grass is getting a little high.”
Doing what we’re told to do is FAR easier than doing what needs to be done. It takes less energy. Less perceptiveness. Less creativity. Carl, whether intentional or not, was challenging me to up my game—to raise the bar. I wish I hadn’t asked.
Of course, he didn’t invent “Just do it.” I think he got it from the suits at Nike. They may have gotten it from God, who may have said it to a puzzled Noah after telling him to build an ark. Yes, God gave Noah many specific instructions on how to build the floating container.
But my concern here is not doing what we’re told. That’s a good lesson for the 1st graders I occasionally teach. My concern is seeing something that needs done and just doing it. That’s graduate level Christianity. That’s our challenge on Maui, and that’s my challenge to you.
If the old man is hungry, feed him.
If the child needs clothes, clothe her.
If a single mom needs groceries, buy them.
If a jobless dad can’t pay a bill, pay it.
If students need mentoring, mentor them.
If a poor person in a foreign country needs a home, go build it.
If the Walmart checkout clerk needs a smile and compliment, offer them.
If a flood-ravaged home needs mud removed, remove it.
If the parents of a special-needs child need a break, provide it.
If the widow need encouraging, visit her.
If prisoners need hope, bring it to them.
If someone hasn’t met Jesus, introduce them.
Having to be reminded to take out the trash or make your bed is cute in your first month of earning a childhood allowance. Being told to “rinse the ‘hars’ out of the tub”—as my wife once put it—is funny in the first week of marriage. However, only doing what one is told to do grows tiresome. In matters of faith, it reflects spiritual immaturity.
The world doesn’t need more ideas. My restless mind pumps out ideas daily—the good, feasible ones are rare and mostly ineffectual. The world doesn’t need more critics. Yes, we know you would have done it a better way. The world doesn’t need more sideline observers. Change happens in the arena.
No, what the world needs are more doers—more Christians in the game. More Christians who have been taken hostage by James 1:27, which reads, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”
Today, I hope we make our beds, take out the trash, and mow the grass. Let’s do what we’re told. And then, I hope God gives us the eyes to see “something that needs done” and the courage to “just do it.”
Every disaster area offers a blend of devastation and healing, of heartbreak and hope. Every day, God presents the volunteer with a person, an image, or a story. Each random, unexpected blessing is an antidote for the poisonous, soul-crushing environment you find yourself in.
Yesterday, our first day working in Marshall County, Kentucky, God offered two images that struck home.
First, the easel. Around 10 o’clock on the night of December 10th, a young girl and her family huddled in the basement as a nearly 250-mile long, EF4 tornado ripped apart their home and wreaked havoc across her native Kentucky and four other states. The 190 mph winds took the lives of 90 souls, including 75 in Kentucky, and left more than 125 injured.
Thankfully, the girl, her autistic brother, and her mother were spared. Her father, tragically, had died two weeks prior from a heart attack while sitting in his recliner the day after Thanksgiving. The girl and her family emerged from the rubble and walked through the ruins of their family compound the following day. Only one of the girl’s possessions remained intact and unscathed: an easel. I don’t know what it was like for her to stand in a debris-littered yard with nothing but the clothes on her back, holding her only remaining possession. I suppose she was forever changed.
Had the story ended there, that would be enough. A young tornado victim being reunited with her easel is the hope among heartbreak, the healing among devastation. Remarkably, the young girl had something more in mind. She donated the easel to her church—the people who were busy helping her family and other storm victims. “Unless you become like little children…” Jesus once said.
The young girl’s easel is among the first things seen by church members and relief workers upon entering the church’s Fellowship Hall. It contains a message of hope for all who enter: “God’s got this.” For those who know the backstory, the easel represents something more. It reminds us of a little girl who gave up her only possession. She gave us her all.
That brings us to image #2. While knocking doors and assessing needs on Benton’s Carriage Lane, my friend Donna and I walked by a property with no door to knock, bell to ring, or window to tap. All that remains is the home’s foundation and a tree stump. In insurance terms, this is a “total loss.”
Upon closer examination, though, we found something else. Whoever had cut up the downed tree had gone to the trouble to carve a cross from its trunk. Yes, on the south end of Carriage Lane, on a foundation with everything else blown away, all that remains is a cross.
Like the easel, that cross will stick with me for, well, maybe forever.
Long after my Maryville home is gone, the cross will remain.
Long after my life savings are spent or passed on, the cross will remain.
Long after my prized possessions are rendered useless, the cross will remain.
Long after my physical body has returned to dust, the cross will remain.
Long after a life spent pursuing, acquiring, and becoming, Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection are all that will remain.
The easel and the cross. The healing and the hope. The first two of many gifts to be unwrapped in the Benton/Mayfield disaster area.
