It’s been a bit since I last wrote. I’ve been busy with this new school year. This year I’m teaching two classes—Intro to Christian Ethics and Human Dignity. This was my first week back in the classroom, and I had forgotten how much I enjoy it. The students are smart, wise, and earnestly trying to follow the Lord with their lives.

I missed the first week of classes because I was taking my own son off to start his freshman year at Samford University. Angela and I are, of course, so proud of him. He worked hard for this and is going to really do well there. But, alas, it’s not easy for us parents as we drove the ten hours back home. We have phones, and we text and call, but it’s a little quiet around the house. Fall is when sports season kicks off. Daniel is my sports buddy. We love watching college and NFL football together. We love our late-night talks as I’m working on a project and the Cubs game is on the TV, and we talk about life and sports and theology and random other stuff. So I’ve been a bit melancholy about it all.

And yet this is the way God designed the rhythms of parenting. Our oldest is also in college, where I teach, and lives on her own. Thankfully we see her often. She’s such a joy. But again, the house is emptier these days, though we still have our two beautiful younger daughters in the throes of their high-school years.

We know that children are a treasure from the Lord (Psalm 127). God has graciously allowed us to be parents, and then he slowly unclasps our hands from theirs. They too must grow and be released into the lives God has planned for them. It’s an opportunity for us parents to trust and to pray.

And let me tell you, the praying never stops. I used to read “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) and think, “That seems extreme.” I don’t think that anymore. When your kids grow older, it becomes a habit, a running thread with God. I’m slowly realizing—hardheaded guy that I am—how little control I actually have of things. I orchestrate, plan, maneuver, manipulate, but God ordains. And he probably laughs.

When things change, we can trust that God is the constant. He’s our “dwelling place in all generations,” that beautiful Psalm 90 says. Today after church we had lunch with a young, newly married couple. As we sat there, in the back of my mind, I thought to myself, That was us not long ago. It was. Our parenting and career lives ahead of us in ways we never could have imagined. God was present in that season, too. And I’m sure when we meet with our friends in their sixties or so, they have the same thought.

The good news, for those of us in Christ, is that while we can live meaningful lives of purpose on this earth—serving the Lord, working jobs, making a difference, raising our children, being good citizens—we have the forever of the New Jerusalem to look forward to. These years will roll by faster than you think. There is that old saying that the days are long but the years are short. There are unfulfilled dreams, regrets, failures, losses, even in a well-ordered and blessed life. But this is not the end. It’s only a dress rehearsal for eternity.

So, we trust the Lord with what and who he’s given us in the seasons he’s allowed us to live and long with hope for the world to come.

By the way, here are two helpful pieces on dropping kids off at college. The first is by my friend Matt Hall, provost at Biola University. Matt’s Substack, by the way, is one you absolutely should have on your subscribe list. The second is by Tim Challies, the dean of the Christian internet.

A few updates:

• Baptist Press asked me to write about the increasingly confusing mess in the WNBA and their inability to define what a woman is.

• My World magazine column is about the 50th anniversary of Prison Fellowship and the legacy of one of my heroes, Chuck Colson.

I don’t know exactly the first time I heard a baseball game on the radio. It was probably some time in elementary school. My family did not have a television in the home, at least until I was in college. But man, did I love radio. This was the 80’s and 90’s. There were no smartphones. We had some early PC’s—my dad had one in his office that had some cool programs like Joe Montana Football or a Centurion game where you could conquer the world. I also remember getting excited about an atlas and encyclopedia program with color maps!

So radio it was. I alternated between listening to the Chicago Cubs with, at the time, Thom Brenaman, Harry Cary, and Bob Brenly. Or the White Sox with John Rooney and Wayne Hagen. There is a magic to listening to baseball on the radio. Even today, while I subscribe to the MLB package and watch the Cubs when I can, I often listen if I’m in the car or washing dishes or something. Pure magic.

Baseball has such memories for me. Sometimes my father, a plumbing contractor with his own business, would take me with him. If we were in the vicinity of Buffalo Grove, a suburb of Chicago where my grandfather, Grandpa Darling, lived, we’d stop over. He’d be in the enclosed front porch of his house, reading the newspaper, and he’d have the Cubs game on his TV. WGN, of course.

My first ever baseball game was at Wrigley Field. My other grandfather, Grandpa Yagoda, sold Chevys at Sun Chevrolet in the city of Chicago. He had wealthy clients with season tickets. When I was about 9 or 10, he got two tickets to a Cubs game. Just me and him. It was on a Sunday, which produced no small amount of consternation with my mother, who finally consented to me slipping out of church early and jumping in Grandpa’s car to go downtown.

I remember the first time walking through the concourse at Wrigley, a scorecard in hand and a brand new baseball in the other hand. As soon as we walked through the tunnel and into the park, I was in love. If you’ve not been to Wrigley Field, it’s hard to describe for you what a glorious shrine to baseball it is. If you need some help, the great columnist George Will has a book that can get you up to speed.

Our seats were in the front row behind the Cubs dugout. We got there in time for batting practice and warm-ups, so I got to hear the crack of the ball on the bat. I got to hear the smack of a fastball hitting the glove of a catcher. Grandpa urged me to ask the players for autographs, so I did. I rolled the ball across the dugout to shortstop Shawon Dunston. It rolled down into the dugout. I thought I’d lost it, but he popped it back up, signed by him and a few of his teammates. I tried to flag down the great Andrew Dawson, but he was all game face. I’m ashamed to say that I lost that ball somewhere over the years. Sometimes kids don’t realize the little treasures they have until they are lost. That nurtured a lifelong obsession with the Cubs. Some years it has seemed like a burden. But still I kept trekking back to Wrigley, though it’s been several years—way too long—since I’ve been back. A picture of it, though, hangs in my office.

Baseball is a funny sport. If your team is not good—and I have a lot of experience with this—the season can lag. But if your team is good and as you head toward October, it’s exhilarating.

I’m a huge football fan. I love Saturdays and Sundays in the fall. For non-stop action and drama, you cannot beat football. Baseball is different. It’s a game of nuance and precision and artistry.

And your team plays almost every day. It’s a perfect summer sport for someone like me. I have it on while I’m working. So if there’s a day game and I’m writing or working on lectures or whatever, I have it on in the background. If I’m working at night and there is a night game, I have it on in the background. It’s a perfect background sport. It fits the summer rhythm.

I said earlier that it’s exhilarating when your team is good. Let me tell you about that. Ten years ago, the Cubs won the World Series. They hadn’t won in 108 years. You heard that right. More than a century had passed since they last won. My grandfather, who died in 2006, lived his entire life never seeing them win. In 2016, I happened to be back in Chicago for a speaking engagement. A friend of mine, Jason Romano, worked for ESPN’s Mike and Mike morning show. They were doing a live remote broadcast across from Wrigley Field. He got me tickets. I got to meet Ryne Sandberg. It was cool. But I remember a superfan dressed up like Teddy Roosevelt because that was the last time the Cubs won the World Series.

That year was magical. It came down to seven games, in extra innings. That game had ups and downs. I remember pacing back and forth in my Nashville home, agonizing. My wife, who isn’t into sports, stayed up with me in the wee hours of the night. My kids, who were supposed to be in bed, hid on the stairs watching. When third basemen Kris Bryant recorded that final out by throwing to first baseman Anthony Rizzo, we went nuts.

That’s the joy of baseball. It can also be a cruel sport. I had been married for a year when a very promising Cubs team was playing the Florida Marlins and on its way to the World Series. We were two outs away and, well, the Bartman thing happened.

Even in the years your team doesn’t go all the way, there is a certain joy. When Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire were chasing home run records (Yes, I know, but that year was still magical), every day while working on a construction site, we stopped and listened when Sammy got to the plate. Hearing Pat Hughes deliver another home run call was awesome.

This year my team is good. As of this writing, they are three games back of the hated Milwaukee Brewers for first place in their division, and they are the top wild card team. They have an electric MVP candidate in Pete Crow-Armstrong. And they made some great moves at the pitching deadline. It could be another magical year. Or we could end with more disappointment. But already this summer this team has brought me joy.

Updates:

• I’ve got two chapters left to write on my Christmas book for Moody Publishers

• A co-written book with Dennis Greeson on parenting and worldview is due out with Harvest House next spring.

• I’m attending a PhD seminar on Baptist Theology at Southeastern Seminary. So that’s where most of my reading has been.

• I’m gearing up for another exciting semester of teaching at Texas Baptist College. Two classes this semester: Intro to Ethics and Human Dignity

• I’m about to drop my son off at Samford University. I’ll try to keep it together, but I don’t think I will.

• I’m gonna be on Kirk Cameron’s TV show in October to talk about Christianity and patriotism. So that should be fun.

• I’m contributing to a study Bible co-edited by Nathan Finn and Benjamin Quinn. I’ll be doing the passages on community and government.

• I also have various articles to write, both academic and popular level.

• I’m getting good feedback on both Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life and In Defense of Christian Patriotism.

That’s all for now

We live in a world of broken promises. Every other year, politicians run for office, often making claims bigger than they can fulfill. Employers, trying to recruit good-quality employees, often inflate the scope of the benefits and overstate the size of the opportunity. Parents assure their kids, sometimes, of outcomes out of their control.

Sometimes people or institutions make promises they intend to keep, but events and circumstances arrive that force their hands. And at other times, shady people offer shady deals they never intended to follow through on.

If you live long enough—and as I speed toward that half-century mark, I think I qualify—people will let you down. Sometimes they will be people you thought you could trust. Sometimes they will be people with whom you were very close. Sometimes they will even be lifelong friends. I will not sugarcoat this. It’s not easy. It’s hard.

There will also be moments where you, despite your best efforts, will let people down. You’ll let down your family, your coworkers, and your friends. You’ll make promises you can’t keep. You’ll underwhelm someone’s expectations. I’ve done it. I still do it.

God, however, will never let us down. I love Psalm 46:1-3:

God is our refuge and strength,
a helper who is always found
in times of trouble.
Therefore we will not be afraid,
though the earth trembles
and the mountains topple
into the depths of the seas,
though its water roars and foams
and the mountains quake with its turmoil. Selah

I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I try to finish this project on the prophecies of the incarnation, a new advent book for Moody that will release in Christmas of 2027. If there is a theme of the Old Testament, it is this: God’s revelation of the promise of a Savior unfolds even as the people through whom the promise is delivered do the best they can to thwart it.

God promises a seed from the woman who will crush the seed of the serpent. But what if both seeds intermingle and create such violence that God has to destroy the earth in the flood? No problem, God will deliver humankind through one family in a big boat.

God promises a nation from one man, Abram. But what if this otherwise faithful and obedient patriarch lies about his wife twice and has a child with his maid? Still, God keeps his promise with Isaac. But what if Abraham’s grandson Jacob schemes and lies, has multiple wives and a dysfunctional family and nearly starves in a worldwide famine? No worry, he’ll raise up Joseph to save his family and preserve God’s promise.

What if David, the chosen king, has a man murdered after seducing his wife? What if he has multiple wives and a dysfunctional household and chaotic kingdom with two near coups? God still promises that David’s throne will last forever.

But what if David’s descendants split the kingdom? What if they have a series of kings who are so bad, God gradually allows the surrounding nations to conquer them? What if, at one point, every Davidic heir is nearly killed by a wicked queen? No problem, for God will raise up a righteous priest and wife who will hide the last remaining son of David in a secret room in the temple.

What if the surrounding nations eventually overwhelm Judah and the house of David falls into enemy control? What if there is silence for four hundred years: no angels, no prophets? No problem, for God will keep his promise of a virgin-born God-man. But what if the Jewish couple, both children of David, are poor peasants on the backside of the Roman empire? No problem, for God will send kings from the East to lavish them with gifts.

But what if a wicked king in Israel, an illegitimate monarch on David’s throne, threatens to kill baby Jesus? No problem, for God will send angels to warn the faithful and obedient Joseph to take his Son to Egypt.

You see the theme? Humans fail, God delivers. God keeps his promises.

Now I know what you are thinking because I’ve thought it myself. God seems to have let me down. With this cancer diagnosis. With this troubled marriage. With this difficult economic situation. With this prodigal child. With this war-torn land.

Sometimes it seems God has not kept his end of the bargain. But maybe it is us who have misread the agreement. God hasn’t promised us ease in this life. In fact, Jesus told his disciples: “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

The promise of God is not that we won’t have trouble. The promise is that God will guide us through the trouble and take us home. God has already delivered on his promise to save us from our sins in Jesus. And God will fully fulfill this promise when he comes again to renew and restore the world. He will raise us up again, body and soul, for eternity.

I’ve learned in my life that sometimes the only constant, the only refuge, the only sure thing is Christ. When the waves are rocky, when the winds blow, when the world is crashing in, there is Jesus.

Latest work:

I’ve been a bit quiet lately on here, mainly due to intensified focus on the projects I’m trying to complete this summer and some travel. I took my youngest two girls on a college tour around the country. I had a wonderful time with them. We are also preparing to move our son Daniel to Samford for his freshman year.

I did manage to have this column posted at World, on an interesting new proposal to help young parents with the cost of childbirth:

This piece of legislation is aimed directly at the financial costs associated with childbirth, when parents cut back on working hours to prioritize bonding with their baby even as new expenses like diapers and hospital bills hit their pocketbooks. The bill allows parents to claim a $2,000 refundable tax credit for a newborn, which is structured so parents can claim it soon after childbirth, rather than waiting until tax time.

According to one survey, a family’s household income drops 10% during the first year of a child’s life. If passed, this new bill could alleviate some of the burden, especially for single-earner married households or moms physically recovering from a challenging pregnancy and delivery.

According to policy analyst and pro-life advocate Leah Sargeant, many of the pro-family supports existing in the current tax code are helpful but don’t provide fast relief for parents when a baby is born. The recently expanded Child Tax Credit provides relief specifically in tax season, while the newly created Trump Accounts set the stage for wealth building for children as they become adults. This new idea would complement these existing conservative policy achievements with more immediate help for parents in the first year of a newborn’s life.

You can read it all here

I’m also working on several projects:

• The aforementioned Christmas Prophecies Advent book for Moody.

• Contributions to a study Bible with Thomas Nelson, edited by Nathan Finn and Benjamin Quinn

• A paper for the Evangelical Theological Society on Chuck Colson

• A chapter for a new volume on Carl Henry edited by Nathan Finn

• I just finished edits on a chapter on co-belligerency in Baptist Social Ethics edited by Jason Thacker and Nathan Finn

And of course I’m thrilled about the fall semester at Texas Baptist College where I’m teaching both Intro to Christian Ethics and Human Dignity.

I pray this summer has been good for you and your family. Would love to hear your feedback.

Here in my office, I have a folded American flag. Old Glory draped the coffin of my grandfather, buried with full military honors in 2006. Grandpa Yagoda, a first-generation immigrant whose mother escaped the pograms of Eastern Europe and came to America, grew up dirt poor on the South Side of Chicago. He used to regale me with stories of how he’d jump on the back of deliver trucks and hop off at the local butcher to collect scrap and throwaway meat for meals for his family. “We didn’t even know we were poor,” He’d say. This was during the Great Depression.

When the United States was attacked at Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941, Grandpa enlisted in the U.S. Army. He went on to fight in the Pacific as a tank commander, sleeping under his tank, fighting malaria and mosquitoes in the swamps, and narrowly escaping death in these fierce battles. Grandpa is a hero to me. I never heard him complain about anything. He was one of the first people who instilled in me a deep and abiding love for this great country.

As America celebrates 250 years, there is a lot of angst. Some are so focused on our many challenges that they have succumbed to cynicism about the future. Others wonder if patriotism is even appropriate, given America’s many sins. But I’m both bullish on the country, based on the challenges we’ve overcome before, and I think it’s good and right to celebrate what God has given us.

America is unique in the world. It’s a nation founded on an idea, shaped by deeply Christian ideas, an experiment in “ordered liberty.” The men who drafted the Declaration of Independence and eventually the Constitution were not mere revolutionaries. They were courageous statesmen who forged from the Revolutionary War, to quote Abraham Lincoln, “a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”

As I argue in my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism, it is good and right for Christians to love America, to be grateful for the freedoms we’ve inherited, and to steward it so that it is as good for the next generation.

This week I’ve got a few articles and essays in various places, elaborating on this idea of patriotism. For Southwestern Seminary, I wrote about the idea of celebrating America and honoring Christ:

In Jeremiah 29, the prophet told the exiles to “seek the welfare,” or flourishing (shalom), of their city. They were exiles in a strange land, yet rather than huddle and seek safety and escape, they were to build and plant, marry, have children, and make Babylon better, with whatever little influence or power they had. Today, American Christians can relate. In many ways we feel out of step with the culture, the way we are called to live as ambassadors of Christ’s kingdom. And Scripture even says we should think of ourselves as “strangers and exiles” (1 Peter 2:11; Hebrews 11:13). Yet like the people of God in Babylon, that doesn’t mean indifference or apathy about the place where God has called us to live. Can we see the shalom of a country we despise? I don’t think so.

At its most basic, patriotism is a love for the people, the place, and the ideals of the country. It does not demand of us that we blindly accept every policy from a particular administration or whitewash the dark spots in the nation’s history. Sometimes patriotism requires us to speak up. At the heart of patriotism is gratitude. It is thanking God that He has allowed us to be Americans and allowed us to live in a land as free and prosperous as this one. Gratitude is essential for a Christian (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

Here is the entire piece.

For National Review, I wrote about the necessity of a recovery of gratitude in this current moment:

For many, freedom and prosperity have become so familiar as to become passé. When we grow accustomed to seeing only the familiar, problems seem all the more obvious and blessings get overlooked. I often experience this contrast when I talk to the immigrants or children of immigrants who attend the school where I teach. They and their parents are among the most patriotic people I know, and it is not hard to understand why. If you’ve escaped from totalitarianism or communism, if you’ve left behind grinding poverty with no hope of upward mobility, if you’ve ever lived in a place where religious freedom was not a reality, America seems too good to be true.

Yet today, from our politicians, in much of our history books, and increasingly, on popular podcasts, all we hear about is that the only story worth telling in America is one of injustice, exploitation, and white supremacy. Our children are often taught that America has been mostly a force for bad, not a beacon of hope for those who yearn for freedom. Our politics is now organized around resentment, our parties are collections of increasingly narrow subsets of groups. And online, the way to get rich is to maximize grievance. Gratitude rarely goes viral.

You can read it all right here.

Lastly, the wonderful folks at Logos Bible Software asked me to write on patriotism and the Bible for their wonderful blog, Word by Word. I outlined four ideas:

• Love is not a binary choice

• Love of country is necessary for Christian exiles

• Love of country is an expression of gratitude

• Love of country is limited

Read more here.

I do also have a piece forthcoming for the folks at Modern Reformation. That will be published sometime this summer, I believe.

I’ve also been doing quite a few interviews and podcasts about America 250. Here are a couple:

• For the good folks at The Baptist Review, we talked about patriotism and worship—can churches acknowledge America’s birthday while also honoring Christ?

• At Southwestern, I had a great conversation with Chandler Snyder and my pastor, Ben Bolin, on Christianity and patriotism.

I hope you and your family are enjoying a wonderful 250th, thanking God for our freedoms, doing as John Adams insisted, and watching fireworks, and will bring your gratitude tomorrow to church as you worship Christ.

I leave you with these words of thankfulness by Abraham Lincoln:

“No human counsel hath devised, nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.”

This week, social media has been filled with condemnations of Elon Musk, who became the world’s first trillionaire. I won’t include them here, but you don’t have to spend too much time on your timeline to find public officials, activists, and ordinary folks indignant that the eccentric inventor has so much net worth. Some have even gone so far as to say that billionaires and trillionaires shouldn’t be allowed to be so rich.

I’m not in favor of that economic and social policy. I think the massive redistribution of wealth through socialism or its crazy cousin, communism, rather than lifting the poor as it claims, only leads to misery and more poverty. Capitalism isn’t a perfect system, and unless it is guided by a foundation of virtue (and I’d argue, Christianity), it can and often does have large pockets of injustice. Still, it’s a preferred alternative to the discredited, failed statist policies mentioned above. Faithful Christians, of course, will debate the finer points of where the lines between the free market and the government should stop and start, and the size of the social safety net. But that’s actually not why I’m writing this newsletter.

Underneath the anger at billionaires is a sin as old as time: envy. This isn’t to say that people at the top of the food chain don’t often get special perks or shortcuts that can be unfair. But in today’s modern culture, we have been conditioned to nurture envy at anyone who is perceived to be ahead of us on the career, economic, or social ladder. Envy is at the heart of our politics on all sides. Envy fuels the marketing machines. Just watch the ads. Someone owns a product/gadget/service that is making them happy, and you don’t have it. That’s not right, we are told to tell ourselves, I must have it.

This sentiment is even nurtured in some places in the church. I’m convinced that many of our online fights and disputes are not actually fights and disputes about the actual issues, but underneath, there is a latent envy. James says so much:

What is the source of wars and fights among you? Don’t they come from your passions that wage war within you? You desire and do not have. You murder and covet and cannot obtain. You fight and wage war. You do not have because you do not ask. You ask and don’t receive because you ask with wrong motives, so that you may spend it on your pleasures (James 4:1-3).

James isn’t saying that all conflict among Christians is rooted in envy. The New Testament is filled with instructions toward courage. Paul told young Timothy to “fight the good fight of faith” (1 Timothy 6:12). Jude urges believers to “Contend for the faith delivered to the saints once and for all” (Jude 1:3).

Yet notice Paul says, “fight the good fight of faith.” Not all fights are good fights. I talk a bit about that in other places. I’m convinced that most of our conflicts, especially the online ones, are James 4:1 fights masquerading as Jude 1:3 fights.

Envy is at the heart of our disagreements. Somebody got a position we wanted, but didn’t get. Somebody was given a speaking slot we coveted. Somebody’s work has gone viral in ways we wish would happen to ours. So instead of “rejoicing with those who rejoice” (Romans 12:15), we find ways to disqualify that person. We hint that they got the job because of connections we don’t have (as if we’d resist those connections if offered to us). We tear down their character by insinuating they are not as faithful to the truth as we are. We position ourselves as the better alternative.

Envy is an insidious temptation from the enemy. It’s how the serpent convinced Eve to rebel against God. He’s holding out on you. You deserve more. What you have is not enough. This isn’t right.

Envy comes for all of us. We have to fight it every day. No matter how much success you have in ministry, in the marketplace, or in society, you will always be able to look around and see someone doing better than you. Another family at church or school will have a nicer car and a vacation home while you struggle with multiple side-hustles to make it all work. Another peer will get a promotion or acclaim that you feel you should get. Another businessman will be offered deals that didn’t come your way.

If we are not careful, if we are not intentional about fighting envy, it will eat away at our souls like poison. In my morning reading right now, I’m reading about King Saul’s downward spiral in 1 Samuel. If you were to ask him when the prophet first came to his home and anointed him as Israel’s first king, if he could envision trying to kill a young shepherd boy named David, and try to kill his own son, he’d tell you that you were crazy. Yet this is what envy did to him. Though Saul had many accomplishments, people were praising this young Son of Jesse for his accomplishments. Rather than rejoice in what God had given him, Saul couldn’t stand to see others praised. That was glory he wanted for himself. Sadly, this envy poisoned his soul. It splashed out into every relationship he had, as it often does. He colored his view of the world.

So what is the antidote for envy? Gratitude. When I was a kid, we sang this hymn in church:

When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,

When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,

Count your many blessings; name them one by one,

And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Regularly, intentionally, and prayerfully, we must look around and take stock of what God has done for us. I have made this a habit in recent years as a bulwark against the persistent creep of envy. God has been good to me and has given me more than I deserve. I have blessings in my life that others likely envy. Yet I am tempted to look around me and those who might have more money, higher positions, or (seemingly) less trouble, and convince myself I’m being cheated by God. Got to count those blessings. And, instead of being mad when someone else is blessed, be intentional about congratulating them and being truly happy for their success.

To live this way is counter-cultural. Envy today is encouraged, even monetized, on social media platforms. Grievance is the coin of the realm in politics, in business, and sadly, among Christians. But we who have been redeemed by God and adopted as his children, who are given life and breath by the Creator, who look forward to that New Jerusalem with no crying and pain and suffering—we should be the most resistant to the poison of envy.

This is also why I love singing the chorus at church:

All my life You have been faithful
All my life You have been so, so good
With every breath that I am able
Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God

Sing it when you are down. Sing it when you are up. Sing it when the bank account is full. Sing it when you are scraping for cash. Sing it when you get that job offer or speaking engagement, or book contract. Sing it when those things don’t come your way.

Some Writing Updates:

• The Dispatch asked me to write about the difference between traditional Christians and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

• World published my latest column, this time on the 60th anniversary of Mao’s Cultural Revolution in China. It’s a reminder of the cruelty of communism.

• The popular Room for Nuance podcast posted my conversation with the host, Sean Demars. It’s a wide-ranging interview on patriotism, political theology, American exceptionalism, and other topics. I enjoyed recording this in Huntsville late last fall with Sean and his crew.

Project Updates:

• Last week I, along with 20,000 of my closest friends, attended the Southern Baptist Convention. I went as a representative of Southwestern Seminary but also as a messenger from Travis Avenue Baptist Church. I did a book signing at the SWBTS booth for Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life, which also sold out at the Lifeway bookstore in the exhibit hall. I also spoke at ERLC’s One Nation Under God Event on themes from my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism. My friend Nathan Finn has a great recap of the convention here.

• I’m working this summer on several projects, including an article for Logos on patriotism, one for The Brink magazine on our modern tendency toward catastrophism (thinking the world is ending with every news story), my Christmas book for Moody, and a study Bible project for Thomas Nelson.

Even though you know the day is coming and even though its a day for which you have prepared your child since their first tiny breaths, nothing prepares you for the moment when your child walks down the aisle with their classmates and accepts a diploma. I’ve been a bit absent in this newsletter for the last few weeks because of the graduation of my son, Daniel, from high-school. This season has been filled with final banquets, ceremonies, and events. Though my daughter, Grace, graduates a few years ago and that itself was an emotional time, I wasn’t any more ready or any less emotional this time.

It’s a unique stewardship we’ve been given as parents. On the one hand, we are so incredibly proud of our son and his many accomplishments and awards. We are thrilled to see him attend Samford University in the fall. This is the way of things, the cycle of life, the way in which young boys grow up into young men.

At the same time, graduation marks a new beginning, where we will see less of him, as he goes off to college and into the vocation and future to which God has called him. The house will be bit less fun. The football games I watch on TV will be less lively, even if I’ll be texting him every five minutes. There will be fewer late-night talks, fewer footballs tossed in the yard, fewer rides to church and impromptu hanging at the coffee shop.

God give us children as a stewardship. Like “arrows in the hand of a warriors” Psalm 127 tells us. Our children are really not ours, but ultimately they are God’s children. He loves them—if we can believe this—even more than we do. Yet we are human and party of our creatureliness is our ability to feel, to hold emotion, to grow attached to people we love. As parents, of course, if we hang on too tightly to our children, we’ll hurt them. If we make them into idols around which our entire life revolves, we’ll end up disappointed by the ways they can’t do what only God can do. And we’ll hurt them. So we have to let them go. We have to let them fly into the world into which God has called them. But it ain’t easy.

Notes:

World published my latest column, this time on the 50th anniversary of the publication of two influential books: How Should We Then Live by Francis Schaeffer and Born Again by Chuck Colson. Both of these men have had a profound influence on my life. I came to Schaeffer late, not knowing his influence on the lives of others had an influence on me. But How Should We, Whatever Happened to the Human Race, The Mark of a Christian, and many others are treasures I return to. When I was a young pastor, a benevolent lay person gifted me the entire Schaeffer set.

Chuck Colson was a voice I heard early in my life, first on the radio in the car back and forth to school. His distinct voice commenting on cultural matters played at a certain time every day on the show Breakpoint on Moody Radio in Chicago. My friend John Stonestreet still faithfully continues that show for the ministry of The Colson Center. Colson’s books had a profound impact on me as well: Born Again, How Now Shall We Live, Kingdoms in Conflict, The Body, God and Government, and so many others. Both of these men were giants. And their words still resonate today. Here’s a short excerpt from my column:

Schaeffer and Colson were gifts to the body of Christ in the 20th century and their impact is still being felt today. While each had distinctive ministries, what they shared in common was an evangelist’s heart, a love for the people of God, and a fervent belief in the church’s vital place in influencing society. We’d be wise to heed them.

Fifty years after these books were released, they are still worth reading and applying. We should thank God for giving us Francis Schaeffer and Chuck Colson. May we live similar lives of purpose and service to Christ’s kingdom.

You can read the whole thing here.

Today is also the day my new book, Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life is released from B&H Publishing. I wrote about it a few months ago and even included an excerpt:

What I’m Reading:

You’ll notice a theme. It’s America 250 and I’m reading books in that vein until I start reading, in earnest, for my PhD seminar in the fall:

What Conservatives Believe by Mike Pence. I’m reviewing this book for The Acton Institute. I appreciate the former VP’s consistency and his persuasive call for conservatives to stick to core beliefs.

The Case for America by Bret Baier. I’m listening to the audiobook versions of this book by the host of Special Report on Fox News. It’s a very balanced, but optimistic case for America.

A few on my “to read” stack: American Convenant by Yuval Levin and How to Live Well by Alan Noble.

It’s been a full season here as the fall semester wraps up on campus and we prepare to celebrate my son’s high-school graduation. I was getting a bit nostalgic the other day about his graduation, which is happening 30 years after my own. Time flies. I’m thrilled he’s off to Samford University in the fall but I’m also a bit in my feels about him leaving for college. But we have the summer, so more on that later.

I’ve been starting a few projects I need to get done this summer, particularly the Advent book I’m writing for Moody and the study Bible notes I’ll be working on for a multi-contributor project with Thomas Nelson. I’m also currently teaching a four-part series on Christianity and patriotism at my church, Travis Avenue Baptist here in Fort Worth.

A few things you might be interested in. First, a conversation with Dr. Ben Carson. If you don’t know his story, you should read Gifted Hands, the book that tells his remarkable rise from poverty to becoming a world-renowned medical surgeon at Johns Hopkins University. He was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2008, ran for President in 2016, and served as Director of Housing and Urban Development in President Trump’s first term.

But my conversation with Dr. Carson was not me interviewing him, but him interviewing me at the offices of his non-profit organization in Washington, D.C. He took an interest in my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism, and we had a great conversation about patriotism, faith, and the American experiment.

Secondly, I was recently interviewed on the Christian Broadcasting Network on similar themes:

Lastly, my World column asks the question about conservatism in the post-Trump era and features a review of my friend Tim Goeglein’s excellent new book, What Really Matters: Restoring a Legacy of Faith, Freedom, and Family. Below is a portion of that column:

True Christian revival and a restoration of the family cannot begin in the very place, Washington, D.C., where Goeglein is tasked with championing social conservative public policy. And the former aide to Sen. Dan Coats and George W. Bush knows this, taking to the pages of What Really Matters to urge his fellow evangelicals to prioritize the work of their local churches, which, he rightly charges, should speak more about marriage and family matters. He writes:

It is time for us who believe in the sanctity of marriage to no longer sit on the sidelines while our children learn about marriage from the Kardashians or watching The Bachelor. Instead, we must be emphasizing the beauty and sanctity of marriage, why it is spiritually, emotionally, and physically beneficial to not cohabit with someone of the opposite sex, and why waiting will be ultimately to their benefit in each of those areas. With this vision of marriage prioritized in our churches, we can once again not only have stable families but also a church possessing the moral authority to be a dear and convincing voice reestablishing a flourishing society and the dignity of love.

Goeglein understands, of course, that conservatism will involve more than the virtue of family and a foundation of Christian faith. In his columns, for instance, he urges a doubling down on civic education and patriotic understanding of America’s place in the world. I agree and believe that the epidemic of self-loathing on both the left and the right is poisonous for our future.

Whatever shape conservatism takes in the next era of politics, let it at least include the tried-and-true pillars Goeglein articulates. We live in a new world, with new challenges and new opportunities, but we might approach these years with the words of the prophet Jeremiah in our ears: “Stand by where the roads cross, and look. Ask for the old paths, where the good way is, and walk in it. And you will find rest for your souls (Jeremiah 6:16).”

What I’m Reading:

I’ll have quite a bit of PhD reading to do here pretty soon, but first I’m catching up on a few other books:

Last Branch Standing by Sara Isgur of Advisory Opinions podcast fame. Sara is a brilliant lawyer who has worked across the conservative legal landscape. She very succinctly and often humorously explains the Supreme Court and dispels many media-created myths. I’m enjoying it immensely.

How to Know a Person by David Brooks. Brooks is the quirky, sometimes liberal, sometimes moderate, occasionally libertarian columnist for the New York Times with whom I frequently disagree. He’s also a terrific writer, and his books are stimulating. This one is no different.

My latest:

Lastly, I’d like to remind you that my book with B&H, Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life releases this month. This is meant to be a guide for pastors and everyday Christians who have questions about things such as gambling, marijuana, cohabitation, etc.

There’s a phrase that’s often used about a Christian who discovers reformed theology, the tradition that includes folks like John Calvin, Huldrych Zwingli, etc. It’s called “a cage-stage Calvinist.” The late RC Sproul explained it this way: “those newly minted Reformed believers who are so aggressive and impatient that they should be locked in a cage for a little while so that they can cool down and mature a little in the faith.”

This experience among reformed folks is real. But it’s not a problem exclusive to one group of Christians. The “cage-stage” can apply to converts of any type, and in a digital age, the accessibility of communication platforms makes it way too common. Folks who five minutes ago were low-church non-denominational evangelicals, suddenly converting to Anglicanism and snobbishly lecturing their former church members about liturgy. Politically uninvolved pastors suddenly opining like pundits on every single issue and blasting pastors who don’t tweet or podcast all day about minute political issues. Hedonistic influencers converting to Catholicism and taking on the Pope and every Catholic bishop before they’ve even been confirmed. Celebrity converts headlining Christian conferences while still wet from their baptism. Perhaps the worst offender might be a newly minted seminary graduate ready to correct all the failures of their home church.

The temptation is real. I know it all too well. In my younger days, I enjoyed arguing and sparring with folks, usually after I’d discovered some newfound truth. My dad was wrong. My friends were wrong. My pastor was wrong. How could they not see it?

We need to understand that zeal is good, especially zeal toward good things. I never want to dampen the spirit of a new believer who understands that Christ died for their sins and rose again on the third day. I want to welcome that person and set them free, like the women at the well, to share that good news with their unbelieving friends and family. I don’t want to discourage believers who “study to show themselves approved unto God (2 Timothy 2:15).” Theology is the study of God. Getting it right matters. Folks who newly understand key doctrines of the Christian faith are a blessing. I also don’t want to throw cold water on believers who become newly aware of important issues and take their citizenship seriously. I mean, I wrote a whole book about this!

However, we should heed Paul’s words to his protege Timothy. In his Holy Spirit-inspired words of Scripture, he urges the young pastor to avoid elevating a new convert to a position of influence and authority in the church: “He must not be a new convert, or he might become conceited and incur the same condemnation as the devil (1 Timothy 3:6).” The King James translation labels a new convert a “novice.”

Paul here isn’t discouraging conversions. He’s not even saying their stories shouldn’t be told. What the Bible is telling us here is that elevating a novice into a position of authority and influence is dangerous, both for the soul of the novice and for the health of the church. Being right is a toxic drug without the leavening of time and community that produces maturity. There is a reason that every single passage about leadership in the New Testament urges the cultivation of character traits such as sobriety and gentleness. Proverbs 19:2 warns of “zeal without knowledge.” And even knowledge is dangerous without humility because it “puffs up” (1 Corinthians 8:1).”

Sinful pride can take knowledge and use it as a weapon, rather than a humble attempt to persuade. It can elevate the messenger instead of the message. It can lead to “the narcissism of small differences.”

I don’t want to discourage youthful zeal. Paul, in another part of his letter, told Timothy to “let no one despise your youth (1 Timothy 4:12).” Youthful passion for what is true, and good, beautiful is a delight. Yet a season of maturity, of seasoning, of time spent in the community of the older, the wiser, the mature is healthy before one assumes significant leadership and influence. There is a reason every significant figure in Scripture endured a season of waiting before being handed power and influence. Moses languished 40 years in the wilderness before being tasked with leading God’s people out of Egypt. Joseph suffered in prison and obscurity before God elevated him to second in command in Egypt. David was anointed king by Samuel as a young man, but he spent many years running from Saul before he became king.

This is difficult in an age where everyone has access to a megaphone via social media. Where hot takes and extremism are rewarded and platformed. Yet we can still show discernment in who we ourselves elevate to a position of influence and leadership. We should rightly rejoice in a testimony of conversion or the discovery of wisdom, but that doesn’t mean we must give them immediate authority in their newfound community. It actually stunts growth to raise a novice like this. This is Paul’s point. He wants to protect them from the temptations of the enemy; they must endure a season of maturity and growth.

Notes:

• A reminder that my book, Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life releases next month. If you missed it, I share here why I wrote it and the everyday ethical topics it covers.

• As you think about the 4th of July, you might have questions about the way our love of God shapes our love of country in my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism.

A few days ago, I learned that my friend Lee Eclov went home to be with the Lord suddenly at the age of 75. My friend Drew Dyck posted the sad news. Lee was a pastor’s pastor. A 40-year pastor in the Evangelical Free Church denomination, Lee embodied, studied, and taught the art of shepherding God’s people. He wrote two incredible books, Pastoral Graces and Feels Like Home.

I first met Lee in the early 2,000’s in the pages of Leadership Journal, the magazine for pastors that Christianity Today used to publish. He was an inspiration, both as an emerging writer and as a shepherd of souls. Then, when I began writing for Leadership Journal as I began my first pastorate, I met Lee. Drew, who had been publishing him for years and now took a chance on me, introduced us.

I would meet Lee in his office and seek pastoral advice. I pastored near Gurnee, IL, and he pastored near Libertyville, so we were not that far away. He also taught at Trinity, where I attended for a year. It was a season in my life where I was in need of godly mentors. Lee was a man born to do this. I often sent him troubled, but seeking folks who were looking for a father figure in their lives.

Over the years, we didn’t stay in touch as often as I moved to Nashville to work for the ERLC. At our last meeting, before we left town, he pleaded with me to stay in the pastorate. I felt a real sense of God’s call, and as I look back, I don’t have regrets. However, there is a piece of my heart that hears Lee’s words and wishes I were pastoring. WE continued to talk from time to time, and as I’d visit, I’d check in on him. I remember him telling me about his pending retirement a few years ago. He honored me by asking me to endorse his last book.

Leaders like Lee are rare. He was one of those men who, when you were with him, you felt you were meeting the real version of him. He was gentle, but convincing, eloquent with his words, yet simple in his application. Lee would not step over people to accumulate power. He wasn’t looking over your shoulder for someone more important to meet. He was a pastor for worn-out souls. I will miss him. I pray God raises more like him.

Notes:

My first piece for The Daily Wire was published a few days ago. It’s a reflective piece on the pro-life movement after Dobbs. I retrace the history of men like Francis Schaeffer, who awakened the pro-life conscience of the evangelical movement. I think we need a new version of this:

The consistent Catholic conviction and the work of men such as Schaeffer birthed the enduring and effective pro-life movement. Today, nearly a half-century later, it is one of the most powerful movements in American politics. Roe is gone, many states outlaw abortion, and pregnancy resource centers dot the American landscape, offering help and hope to young mothers in crisis. This justice movement has introduced a moral vocabulary into American life — that even the most vulnerable Americans are worthy of dignity and respect — to the point that its most bitter foes co-opt this language to accuse us of being inconsistently pro-life.

So often the pro-life position is on the defensive. We are told that our position is anti-women. We are asked for our five-point plans on poverty reduction and health care. Pro-life champions should have thoughtful answers on these important issues. And yet we should also be willing to ask the question of those who oppose the sanctity of life: Do you believe in the humanity of the unborn child? Do you believe there is a baby there? If so, why would you be in favor of ending that life for the crime of existing?

Pro-lifers must return to the art of persuasion. We cannot assume our fellow Americans and even many of our fellow Christians understand the issue. And we should do it in a way designed to generate converts, not in ways that push folks away from our side. The small but loud cohort of internet activists who fantasize about throwing women in jail and repealing the 19th Amendment may seem courageous to their text threads, but they are not moving public opinion and in fact may be doing the work of those who seek to expand abortion.

Courage requires the fortitude to stand up for what is right, even when it’s unpopular. But it also requires the wisdom to make arguments that expand the movement. In a democracy, this is the only way to make change. Many of the activists in the movement use moral language, but we need to urge our political leaders to do this as well. Too often, with the exception of folks such as Senator James Lankford, who routinely speaks on the Senate floor about the value of human life, many of our pro-life politicians, when asked about the issue, either mumble about exceptions or stare at their shoes. They rarely give an eloquent defense of the unborn.

We should defend the sanctity of life in the public square by appealing both to America’s Judeo-Christian heritage and to our founding principles in the Declaration. This is how successful social activists such as Martin Luther King Jr. helped build a movement that saw real civil rights victories in the 20th century. He appealed to America’s uniquely Christian character by talking about the God-given dignity of black people. And he appealed to the words in our founding documents that declare “all men are created equal.”

Two hundred and fifty years after this grand experiment in human government was formed, we have come much closer to realizing the reality of those words. And yet, as long as unborn children are treated as less than human, we have so much further to go. While we strategize and support pro-life candidates as we should, let’s return once again to appealing to the moral imagination of our fellow citizens. And perhaps, several decades from now, we might look back at this moment as the influential second chapter in the long pro-life struggle.

You can read it all here.

I’m also working on several projects, including a piece on politics and Christianity for Modern Reformation.

I’m starting the writing process on a new Christmas book for Moody Publishers. This will release Christmas, 2027.

Next month, as you know, my everyday ethics book, Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life, is out with B&H. I’m very excited about this. I was recently in Nashville for some meetings and shot a couple of promotional videos for social media. You’ll see those soon.

And as America celebrates her 250th birthday, I’m doing interviews and speaking engagements for In Defense of Christian Patriotism. I’ll also be doing a four-part Wednesday night series at my church, Travis Avenue Baptist in Fort Worth.

This all as we finish up yet another great semester at Texas Baptist College and celebrate my son Daniel’s high-school graduation. A full, but rich season for which I’m thankful.

Two men, different in every way, cross paths at the pivot point of history. Jesus Christ and Jesus Barrabas, as some early manuscripts referred to this notorious criminal.

We don’t know if the two ever met, if, when Jesus passed through Judea many times, Barabbas was within earshot, or if Barabbas and his murderous thugs were in the crowd at the temple when Jesus spoke or turned over the tables of the money changers. It seems unlikely.

Barabbas, having unsuccessfully plotted an insurrection against Rome, was languishing in a filthy prison with other convicted men. He wasn’t captivated by Jesus’ message. The one who would employ violence and deception as a mercenary, a freedom-fighter for hire, probably didn’t take too well to Jesus’ urging of love for enemies. I’m sure he did agree with the critiques of the religious authorities, often so subservient to their Roman overlords and protective of their power. But when Jesus commended the faith of a centurion as being the greatest in Israel? Crazy talk.

Their lives were so different. Jesus Christ, child of a poor Nazareth couple, a rabbi who heals and restores, and Jesus Barrabas, a dangerous revolutionary, gun for hire, who tears down and destroys. One, with unimpeachable character and perfect purity, and one whose guilt nobody doubted.

Barabbas, he didn’t know, couldn’t have understood the role he’d play in human history. What was Barrabas thinking as he paced the cold, dank Roman cell in the tense hours before what he thought was the end of his life? He knew his crimes. He knew what lay ahead. Crucifixion by Rome was the cruelest form of capital punishment, reserved only for the most heinous of criminals and for slaves and foreigners. Crucifixion was designed for maximum torture and maximum shame.

This is the death that awaited Barabbas and the two fellow insurrectionists to be strung up alongside him. What went through Barabbas’ mind, through the minds of the others, as they awaited the shuffle of the boots, the opening of the cell doors, and the rough hands of their executioners shoving them toward the ignominious hill outside Jerusalem? Was he recalling his life, regretting the path he chose for himself, one of a mercenary insurgent, a murderer for hire for a hopeless cause? Was he thinking of his mother or father, his home, wherever that was? Was there any remorse? Repentance? Relief?

What he couldn’t have known was the circus taking place outside Pilate’s court. He couldn’t have known a furious and self-righteous multitude was setting its sights on another Jesus, Jesus of Nazareth. He had no idea that his life hung in the balance, between a weak governor and a raging mob in the thin line between innocence and guilt.

The real story of Easter, as seen through the eyes of Barrabas, the one that pulsates from this very scene and spills onto the pages of eternity, is not the injustice of a corrupt legal system or the fecklessness of Pontus Pilate or the dark turn of the people demanding Jesus be crucified. The real story is that an innocent one, Jesus, died for the one who was so obviously and unapologetically guilty. If we cringe at this guilty man going free, we have to cringe at ourselves, who Scripture says are just as guilty before God. Every single member of the human race is Barabas. I am Barnabas.

We all went astray like sheep;
we all have turned to our own way;
and the Lord has punished him
for the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:6

There is no one righteous, not even one. (Romans 3:23)

This was not a popular sentiment in Jesus’ day. Nor is it popular today, even among some Christians. The truth is that in the eyes of a holy God, everyone, from the saintliest saint to the most morally repugnant villain, is guilty. Convicted and sentenced, not by a powerless governor like Pilate or an unruly mob, but by God himself.

Yet like Barrabas, like Adam in the Garden, we hear a voice outside the cell door of our hearts, the voice of God saying, “Where are you?” Inexplicably, our chains fall off, and we have the chance for freedom. Like Barrabas, we can walk out of the prison of sin and death, and experience new life, both here and in eternity.

I just love the way Sinclair Ferguson writes about the juxtaposition of Barrabas and Jesus:

Without knowing it, the religious leaders and Pilate and Barabbas were all part of a tapestry of grace which God was weaving for sinners. Their actions spoke louder than their words, louder than the cries of the crowds for Jesus’ blood. Jesus was not dying for His own crimes, but for the crimes of others; not for His own sins, but the sins of others. He did not die for Himself, he died for us!

Jesus was crucified for the crimes Barabbas committed. The one who resisted earthly revolution was crucified for treason, while the one who plotted sedition was set free. The cross was meant for Barabbas. The cross was meant for you and me. Even a fellow insurrectionist could see this, whispering in his dying breaths:

We are receiving the due reward of our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:39-43).

This promise, given by Jesus, is the real heart of Easter. The Son of God, the innocent one, pure and holy, God and man, went to that cross not ultimately because Pilate got it wrong or because the crowds lost their sense, but because this was God’s divine rescue plan all along. The prophet Isaiah says of Jesus that it “pleased the Lord to bruise him (Isaiah 53:10). The entire sacrificial system in the Old Testament, the killing of innocent animals as an atonement for sin all pointed to this moment when the Lamb of God would be slain for the sins of the world (Revelation 13:8), crying in his final breaths, “It is finished.” In many ways, that cross was made for Barabbas, and it was made for sinners, like you and me, but it was made for Jesus all along.

Jesus died the death Barabbas should have died, paid the penalty for sin we should have, but could not bear, and in exchange offers us freedom, freedom from sin, and reconciliation with the Creator who created us. “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive,” (1 Corinthians 15:22). This idea—that Christ is our substitute, that he took on the full wrath of God in our place- is central to the gospel, central to understanding what Easter is all about.

In those lonely moments on the cross, as a bloody and bruised Jesus gasped for air, the entire burden of sin of God’s people was thrust upon him. This is why the earth grew dark. At that moment, the ugliness of sin—Barabbas’ sins, our sins, the heinous and the evil from the beginning to the end of time—was on Jesus’ shoulders. He bore our sin. He took our shame. It is the greatest act of love in the world.

He made the one who did not know sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Barabbas walked free, with no charges against him. And so do you if you know Jesus as Savior and Lord. “There is therefore no condemnation,” we read in Romans, to those who are in Christ (Romans 8:1). You bear no guilt. You carry no shame. You are reconciled back to the Creator who created you.

I have always wondered what happened to Barabbas. What did he do with his new chance at life? Did he go back to his devilish ways, or did he look up at the cross where he should have been and wonder, in awe, how God spared his life? I want to imagine, though there is no tradition or proof that this actually happened, that Barabbas is there among many disciples gathered in Galilee when a resurrected Jesus declares that God has given him all authority in heaven and earth. When Jesus urges people to declare the gospel to the nations. I want to think that Barabbas not only saw Jesus as the unlucky innocent who was killed to satiate the bloodlust of a crowd, but also the spotless Lamb of God who took his place, that he saw Jesus as both his physical and eternal substitute for sin. We don’t know. Maybe we will see him in Heaven. Maybe we’ll call him brother Barabbas.

What we do know—what you can know this Easter—is that the innocent one nailed to the cross was nailed there for you. He bore your sins and took your punishment so you could have abundant and eternal life. Will you look up at that cross this Easter season and see your Savior?

This was adapted from The Characters of Easter: The Villains, Heroes, Cowards, and Crooks Who Witnessed History's Biggest Miracle

“Hey pastor, what does the Bible say about . . . .” – this is a question I was often asked in my years in the ministry. Well, I just wrote a book helping Christians apply biblical wisdom to these kinds of questions when it comes to decisions about things like gambling, cohabitation, marijuana usage, military service, IVF, and other issues.

This book is the fruit of hundreds of conversations I’ve had with my high-school and college children, with the students I teach at Texas Baptist College, with pastors and ministry leaders. What I do aim to do is to help us seek wisdom and instruction from God’s Word and the best of the Christian tradition as we navigate common and current questions.

When Jesus appeared on a mountain in Galilee after his resurrection, He urged those who gathered to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” (Matt 28:19-20). What did Jesus mean by “making disciples” To be a disciple is to be a learner, a student, of the Master. The risen Christ is the Master, whom we pattern our lives after.

Jesus’ instructions were simple, yet profound: “Baptize them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” and “teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you.” (Matt 28:19-20).

Obedience to Christ’s commands happen only with the power of the Spirit and even as we grow in the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5) and in grace (2 Peter 3:18), we won’t fully live up to our identity until we are in Heaven with Christ in eternity (1 John 3:2). Until then, we work with the Spirit who helps illuminate the Word of God as a guide (Psalm 119:05, 11), the community of believers (Hebrews 10:24-25), and prayer (Matthew 6:13; 1 Corinthians 10:13). We can resist temptation, we can obey God, and we can live in victory. We have been given “everything for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3).

But how do we know what is right and what is wrong? God has spoken, through his Word, which not only tells us the story of Jesus but also gives us the best way to live in the world he has created. To live for Jesus is to submit our lives to the Lordship of Christ and his kingdom. Romans 12 reminds us that because Christ died and paid for our sins, because he rescued us from darkness and from enslavement to our sinful passions, it is our “reasonable service” to “present our bodies as a living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1-2).

Humans are not compartmentalized creatures. We don’t simply worship on Sunday and then leave God at church. God cares about our bodies and our souls because he made our bodies with purpose and intentionality (Psalm 139). “You are bought with a price,” Paul says to the Corinthians, “therefore glorify God with your body (1 Corinthians 6:20).”

How do we know what it looks like to walk worthy of our identity as God’s people? God has given us his written Word as a guide. We are told that “all Scripture is inspired by God and is profitable for teaching, for rebuking, for correcting, for training in righteousness. (2 Timothy 3:16 CSB).”

The purpose of this book is to help Christians obey the Lord and live in the way of wisdom, especially on issues that ordinary believers face in contemporary life. We can’t come close to covering every question, of course, but many common ones that often arise.

Some issues will be clear-cut from Scripture and are a matter of simple obedience to God’s Word. We should not be fuzzy where God intends to be clear. And yet some questions you may have are not always as easily found in Scripture and require you to draw from God’s wisdom, the witness of church history, and wise counsel. We’ll tackle both kinds of issues.

May this help all of us learn how to “obey all I’ve commanded you (Matthew 28:16)” and “walk worthy of our calling (Ephesians 4:1). Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life: Ethical Answers for Cultural Questions releases two months from today, May 26th. You can pre-order here.

Almost every week, I have someone in my group of friends who laments the way in which young people, particularly young men, are tempted toward some really perverse ideas from the Internet. I’m talking about the descent from genuinely good and conservative truths to conspiracy theories and wicked ideologies such as anti-semitism, racism, and hatred of women. I think the most acute of these is anti-semitism. I’m troubled by how mainstream it has become. I am not as pessimistic about all of this as some, such as Rod Dreher, are, but I am concerned. Ask your teenage kids and I, I’ll bet they know someone who knows someone who is into figures like Nick Fuentes or Candace Owens. They believe some of this stuff. It’s not merely happening out there somewhere. It’s spreading among kids who grow up in Christian homes.

Many thoughtful people have pointed out the factors that have led to this moment and suggested solutions. I do think the combination of smartphones, social media, and increasingly dysfunctional and split families is a major factor. I think widespread (and in many cases, earned) distrust of institutions is another factor. Lastly, I think perennial teen rebellion against what is perceived as the confining norms of their parents.

But I wonder if we are missing something in all of this analysis. It struck me as I was reading Romans 12:2 while our pastor was preaching through a series on worship. I‘ll just post it here and then offer some reflections:

Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God (Romans 12:2).

Do not be conformed to this age. This is the Christian Standard Bible, one of my favorite translations. Other, older translations render “of this age” to “to this world.” Both are appropriate.

“The world,” as Scripture conceives it, is the world system, the ideologies and forces that are aligned against God. The Bible says that God “loves the world” (John 3:16) and that we’ve been sent “into the world (John 17). The world God loves to whom we’ve been sent as ambassadors is the people of the world, whom we should love as image-bearers (Genesis 1:26), who need to hear of God’s saving love in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:14-21). The world we are to resist is the devilish ideas of the age that raise themselves against the knowledge of God (2 Corinthians 10:5). “Love not the world,” we are told, “neither the things in the world (1 John 2:15-17). Friendship with the world, James writes, is “hostility toward God.”

Let’s go back to Romans 12:2. Paul, after eleven chapters outlining the good news of the gospel, of God’s rescuing, saving, matchless grace toward us in Christ, says that the response to this is worship. Romans 12:1 calls it our “reasonable service (KJV)” or “true worship.” You give your whole selves over to the one who has given himself for you. You pledge your life to the one who rose from the dead and will raise you from the dead at the end of the age.

What does this look like? “Do not be conformed to this age (or to the perverse thinking of this age) but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

There is a choice offered to Christians. We can allow ourselves to be shaped and molded by the untruths of the age, we can be tossed about with “every wind of doctrine (Ephesians 4:14), or we can experience true spiritual transformation.

Do you understand the difference here? It’s not just about a competing set of belief systems. It is. But it’s also two competing ways to live. The world—the false ideas and false idols—demands utter conformity and tribal allegiance. Values are measured not by an unshakeable standard of truth but by whatever the tribe thinks.

Christ offers transformation. Not merely a new way of thinking, but a new way of living. Spirit-filled Christians, while becoming more like Jesus, don’t all look and sound the same. We have varied gifts. To be like Christ is to become fully who we were created to be, with our unique mix of gifts, talents, and callings.

This is important when it comes to our original concern. A practice of renewing our minds through the spiritual disciplines has an impact. “That you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.”

Formation through Scripture reading, prayer, church attendance, and thick Christian community forms us so we have discernment to separate the good from the not-so-good. What’s more, it transforms us. How? By the power of the Spirit, we begin to display this fruit: love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

I think it’s important for us, in this age, to communicate to the next generation the importance of intentional spiritual formation. We must help our kids develop habits of Bible reading, prayer, church attendance, and rich community life. We should, as much as we can, try to place our kids in environments that will form them. We should seek to limit, with whatever power we have, the malign voices that are available on every possible media platform. This is how we renew minds for discernment and for transformation.

When I grew up in the 90’s, my parents and the leaders in my life were vigilant to urge me to resist the pollution from Hollywood and pop culture. At times this seems overly restrictive (because, at times, it was), but I’m grateful for the constant warnings. “Garbage in, garbage out” was the simple refrain I heard at every youth camp and in many sermons.

This warning still holds when it comes to unbiblical ideologies from Hollywood and pop culture. In many ways, we’d consider this the left side of the ideological spectrum. Though things have shifted in recent years, the left still holds a lot of control over our cultural institutions of influence.

However, we should not delude ourselves into thinking that the left has a monopoly on perverse ideas. The world system that is at enmity with God can also inhabit the right. Perverse ideologies can worm their way into conservative circles. Satan is bipartisan in his seduction. He is just as thrilled to use right-wing framing to warp minds as he is to use left-wing framing. This is where many of our communities are vulnerable. Now I want to be clear: I don’t think there is moral equivalance between conservative political policies and liberal political policies. I think you know by now, after reading me this long, that I’m a conservative. But Satan’s deceptions are cunning.

Still, we are more likely to ingest poison from a trusted source: a pro-life leader who indulges in Jew hatred, a conservative political hero who starts wondering if Hitler was really that bad, a right-wing influencer who is anti-woke but also demeans and objectifies women. It’s like when a detective investigating a murder discovers that there was “no sign of forced entry” into the home. Betrayed by a friend.

Scripture tells us that Satan was “more crafty than any beast in the field (Genesis 3:1)” and that Satan “masquerades as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14).” There is a reason we need “the full armor of God” to withstand the “wiles of the devil (Ephesians 6:11).”

We should not hesitate to resist left-wing lies. But we should also be wary of spiritual deception that creeps into conservative communities, dressed up with friendly right-wing clothing. Satan is fine leading someone to hell as a Republican.

So how do we teach our kids to discern? How do we discern? It goes back to these two ideas: Formation and transformation. Though we should argue against the perverse conspiracy theories and ideas that arise when someone follows a dark internet rabbit trail, we ultimately won’t argue them out of deception.

I know of someone who was deep into some really dark ideas and theories. I know friends and family members spent hours trying to argue them out of these ideas. But ultimately, what worked was not another email with links and proofs. It was an appeal to the heart. This has made you a different person. This is alienating you from family and friends. This is making you mean, withdrawn, and sullen.

Formation and transformation. The way out is to step back. To evaluate what is entering the mind. Maybe fewer news podcasts. Maybe more sermons and Bible study podcasts. Maybe less time alone on social media. Maybe more time with good Christian brothers and sisters.

For those with young people in their homes, this means involved moms and dads. Constant conversations. Probing about friends and influences. Spiritual environments. It means engagement.

I also think pastors have got to be specific about this. We need to prepare our people to live in a digital age where content is coming at them at warp speed. Garbage in and garbage out. We need to remind them that the devil doesn’t only live on the left. He has a vacation home on the right, too. The only way we can “discern what is true and good and beautiful” is to fill our minds and hearts with God’s word, rich Christian teaching, and spiritual friendship.

The psalmist says:

“How can a young man keep his way pure?
By keeping your word.
I have sought you with all my heart;
don’t let me wander from your commands.
I have treasured your word in my heart
so that I may not sin against you.

Psalm 119:9-11

Ultimately, we have to consider that in every generation, there is a spiritual battle for the hearts and souls of impressionable young people. This is especially true for Christian young people.

Though I’m concerned about what we talked about above, I’m actually not pessimistic about this generation. I see a lot of young people excited about following Jesus and eager to live lives of purpose. I’m bullish on Gen Z. And I do believe that no challenge, however big, is impossible.

This verse is still true in 2026: “His divine power has given us everything required for life and godliness through the knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness (2 Peter 1:3).”

Notes:

• My book, Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life, will be released in May. In this book, I help Christians think through ethical choices on issues like marijuana, gambling, military service, IVF, cohabitation, and other things.

• If you want some reading for this Lenten/Easter season, you might enjoy The Characters of Easter.

• My latest World column is about the 80th anniversary of the first computer and how Christians might think about our digital age.

I just finished reading the memoir of Carl F. H. Henry, 20th-century theologian and leader. If you aren’t familiar with him, this biographical talk from my friend is helpful.

The memoir is interesting. Published in 1986, Henry, like the journalist he was, dutifully chronicles his life, sometimes in a workmanlike chronicling of his very busy calendar, sometimes with vivid details about his experiences, and often with candid commentary that can only come from someone in the last season of a meaningful and influential life.

I read this book because I’ve done some writing that lately involved Henry, but mostly because 20th-century evangelicalism is an ongoing research interest of mine. I’m increasingly drawn to the men and women who shaped the world I was born into and who continue to matter a quarter century into the 21st century.

One thing that struck me as I read about Carl Henry is just how productive he was. It’s characteristic of men of his time, but he seems to be even more productive than some of his contemporaries. He was a prolific writer, producing numerous books, columns for Christianity Today and other outlets, and academic projects. He was also an in-demand speaker and lecturer. If you think of your favorite Christian institution, it is likely he spoke, lectured, or even taught there. Henry was also a movement builder. He helped launch and then run CT. He was tasked by Billy Graham to organize multiple interdenominational, worldwide gatherings. He helped found Fuller Seminary, Evangelical Theological Society, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, and other institutions. He was often interviewed in mainstream media outlets.

None of these projects is light or easy. Yet, Henry was steadfast in completing them. Today, one might look at the output of Carl Henry’s life and think that perhaps he worked too hard, was gone from his family too much, and should have had better rhythms of rest. There is no doubt, I’m sure, he would have heard that criticism and accepted it. That generation was one that might have been prone to workaholism.

Yet I also wonder if Henry’s busy life is a bit of a rebuke to our own time, where often it seems like the conversations about rest swing the other way, and a full life is almost always considered a bad thing. This is a delicate conversation, of course, because humans are finite creatures. Our theology tells us that we are not God and that rest is a form of worship, trusting that God will continue to “uphold all things by the word of his power” while we sleep (Hebrews 1:3). A great book on this is You Are Only Human by the terrific theologian Kelly Kapic.

Still, we must remember that rest, in the order of creation, comes after work. Six days of work and one day of rest. Work is seen in Genesis as a good gift of God, only made more frustrating by the fall. The work itself—meaningful, purposeful, intentional work—really matters. The Bible commends a long, full life devoted to a calling. I think of Paul’s encouragement at the end of 1 Corinthians 15 that “your labor is not in vain.” Labor is good. Labor put forward in light of Jesus’ resurrection is even more meaningful. Paul also said in that chapter that he worked harder than his peers. The writer of Ecclesiastes says that whatever our hands find to do should be done “with our might (Ecclesiastes 9:10.”

I remember hearing pastor Matt Chandler say once, to a group of men (but this could easily apply to women), that to lie our heads down on the pillow at night and feel exhausted is a good thing. There is a difference between a frustrated “sick of this mess” type of fatigue and what my dad used to call “A good tired.” I feel, after a productive day of work, both a sense of accomplishment and weariness. We should not be ashamed of this, for having lives filled with projects and deadlines and more work than we can accomplish in a day.

Can hard work become idolatrous? Yes. For men, often the work can be a sort of fig leaf to hide from familial responsibility. Work, when it’s in the center of our giftedness, can be so intoxicating that it can be hard to break away from. We can work ourselves to the point where we are not stewarding our bodies. All these things are warning signs that our vocation has supplanted the giver of work as the object of our worship.

And yet, I want to say to myself and to anyone reading not to be ashamed of long days, of some nights, and of a life spent at the plow. I’m grateful Carl Henry devoted himself fully to his calling because I, a couple of generations later, am a grateful recipient of his work. He put himself into things that last. I, by the grace of God, pray the same will be said of my life.

Do rest appropriately. We are not machines. But don’t despise hard work. It’s a good gift from a good God.

Updates:

Speaking of work, here are a few things I’ve got going:

• I’m preaching in the chapel at Texas Baptist College this Wednesday and in the chapel at Union University on March 27th.

• I turned in a long chapter on co-belligerence for a new volume on Baptist social ethics edited by Nathan Finn and Jason Thacker for B&H.

• I’m going to write, this summer, an Advent project for Moody on the prophecies of Jesus’ birth.

• I’ve also been invited to contribute to two study Bible projects, one for Crossway and one for Thomas Nelson.

• My book with B&H: Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life will be available in May. In this, I try to apply Scriptural wisdom to questions folks have about things like marijuana usage, IVF, cohabitation, gambling, and other topics.

  

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As I write this Saturday morning, news broke about conflict in Iran, a joint operation with Israel against the Islamist regime. There are a lot of opinions about this. I have my own—that it was a wise and just action that can weaken the enemies of the West who have waged war against free people—but ultimately we should pray for peace in the Middle East, peace in the world, and for our President and world leaders. The regime in Iran has funded terror against Americans, Israelis, fellow Muslims, and others for 47 years. They’ve killed their own people, including 20,000 protestors in this latest uprising. I realize folks disagree with my position here, but can we agree to pray for the wonderful people of Iran? Can we especially pray for the Christians there, part of a large and growing movement that exists despite persecution?

Ok, so let’s remove ourselves from the present and go back to an era in World War II. I love reading history from this era. I just finished a bio of FDR and loved it. I’m currently reading about British spies during that era. In my latest World column, I wrote about an important piece of that history that happened in February, 50 years ago. President Ford issued an executive order essentially apologizing and rescinding the order that allowed the US to round up and intern Japanese-American citizens considered a threat. The column details some of the historical context of Japanese internment and some of the actions America took to right this historic wrong. And then I provided some commentary on how this helps us think about history. Here’s an excerpt:

This anniversary should also help us think well in our own moment in history as we celebrate America’s 250th anniversary and as we reflect on our own history. There are two wrong ways to approach America’s past sins. One is a kind of persistent self-loathing, championed by endeavors such as the 1619 Project, that see injustice and cruelty as the only valid American story. The other wrong approach is to pretend America has never made mistakes.

The proper approach, in my view, is to celebrate America’s ideals, to celebrate our heroes, to acknowledge our national sins, and rejoice at the progress we’ve made toward “all men are created equal.” This is how Scripture tells history, not hiding the flaws of its heroes, but not casting them as irredeemable. History only has one perfect person, Jesus, and only one perfect nation, the coming kingdom of God. Until then we can and should celebrate our less-than-perfect nation without reservation.

Shameful aspects of our nation’s story should also humble us. In our hubris, we tend to read ourselves back into history as the heroes, convinced that we’d always be on the right side of justice. To do so is to commit what C.S. Lewis labeled, “chronological snobbery.”

Our lives and our moment in time will one day be judged by future generations. Our imperfections, great and small, will provide plenty of fodder for condemnation. Therefore, we should evaluate our historical neighbors as we’d like to be evaluated.

You can read it all here.

Lastly, I wanted to let you know that the Kindle version of In Defense of Christian Patriotism is available for less than $2 on Amazon right now.

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I’m not a big hockey fan. I prefer NFL and college football, Major League Baseball, and the NBA. However, I do respect the game. When we lived in Nashville, I had a friend who worked for the Nashville Predators and got us great seats. It’s a fun environment. And I’m an occasional Olympic fan, not as tuned into the Winter Olympics this year as others.

And yet, how about those two thrilling wins by the men’s and women’s USA hockey teams? First, this past Thursday, Megan Keller of the USA scored a goal in overtime to give the USA the gold. Then Jack Hughes scored the golden goal to beat the Canadians in the men’s final. In both cases, it was awesome to see the rapturous celebration as these young athletes won for their country. And, for brief moments on social media and everywhere, Americans were united in cheering on their team.

For the men’s team, this was the first Olympic gold since the epic 1980 upset versus Russia, the “Miracle on Ice.” A few weeks ago, I watched a new Netflix documentary about this team. If hearing Al Michaels say, “Do you believe in miracles?” doesn’t give you goose bumps, I’m not sure you are even alive.

Back in 1980, of course, the game took on so much more meaning. The United States was in a civilizational struggle with the communist Soviet Union. That year, there were a lot of setbacks—economic struggles, an oil embargo, and American hostages in Iran—and America was losing confidence in itself. This game was like a B12 shot of patriotism. Beating the commies felt good. It still does.

Today, our trade wars notwithstanding, defeating Canada doesn’t take on such mythic qualities. Our neighbors to the North may flirt closer to socialism than makes us comfortable here, but Canadians are nice, and their maple syrup is good. Still, it feels good to beat our biggest hockey rival, and it feels good for our country to win.

Patriotism has taken a beating in recent years. Even many otherwise conservative Christians feel a bit sheepish about the old red, white, and blue. Perhaps it’s a fear of making love of country an idol, or perhaps it just seems cringe to wave the flag. Nobody wants to be this meme:

And yet, I think it’s not only perfectly appropriate for Christians who live in America to express their love for America. I actually think it’s a duty. If we are to “seek the welfare” of the city or country where God has placed us (Jeremiah 29:7), then how can we do that if we are indifferent about this land? I don’t think we can be.

What’s more, patriotism isn’t about supporting a particular president or party. Sometimes patriotism demands we oppose certain policies or politicians. What patriotism is, at its heart, is gratitude for the symbols, the ideals, the land, and the people where God has placed us. For Americans, it’s a celebration of our founding ideals—ideals that we’ve not always fully lived up to.

As we move through 2026, our 250th year of independence, we should pause and thank God for our nation, pray for repentance and renewal, and commit ourselves to making it a better place than we found it. You may have heard, but I wrote a book about this, In Defense of Christian Patriotism, in which I try to help Christians understand what a healthy patriotism looks like, a love ordered rightly under our love for Christ and His kingdom.

So, if you are excited about the US winning medals at the Winter Games, you can keep on cheering.

Some housekeeping notes: I’ve been absent here because I’ve been both travelling and speaking a bit and have been busy working on several projects, including contributing to a study Bible and a few smaller essays. This summer, I’m set to write a Christmas book for Moody on the many prophecies of Jesus’ incarnation. I’m also starting a doctoral program at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary.

If you missed it, I wrote a piece for World Magazine on the goodness of Christian marriage for Valentine’s Day. Yes, I know it’s over and you’ve already eaten all the chocolate, but here it is anyway:

Whether you love Valentine’s Day or think it’s a useless made-up holiday, it is a good time to emphasize the Bible’s beautiful vision of romantic love, even if as an antidote to the world’s distorted view. While pop culture pumps out a message that love is mere attraction or desire, the result of two people “following their hearts” to a predetermined destiny, Scripture portrays romantic love as a beautiful gift from God, uniting husband and wife in a covenant commitment for life.

Marriage is grounded in the creation order. “For this cause,” Genesis tells us, “A man will leave his father and mother and will cleave to his wife and they shall be one flesh (Genesis 2:24).” Marriage is a signpost of God’s relationship with the church, a mystery embedded in creation (Ephesians 5:30-32). Tertullian, writing in the 3rd century, said it this way:

“How beautiful, then, the marriage of two Christians, two who are one in hope, one in desire, one in the way of life they follow, one in the religion they practice. They are as brother and sister, both servants of the same Master.”

This doesn’t imply that romance and attraction have no part of what brings a man and a woman together. Isaac, for instance, saw that Rebecca was “fair to look upon” (Genesis 24:6). Attraction is part of the chemical makeup in which God designed men and women. Yet a relationship bound only by sexual attraction will not sustain itself over the long haul.

Marriage requires commitment, sacrifice, and two hearts knit first to God and then to each other. Deitrich Bonhoeffer said this, “It is not your love that sustains the marriage, but from now on, the marriage that sustains your love.” The commitment preserves the love, it forces both husband and wife to deny themselves and serve the other, the husband leading with understanding, love, and self-sacrifice, the wife responding with respect and honor. Both submitting themselves to God. Good marriages don’t merely happen. They take investment and nurture and follow the healthy relational cycle of repentance and forgiveness.

You can read the whole thing here.

I also interviewed Bible teacher, Jen Wilken recently on my podcast. We talked about the state of theological literacy in the church. I greatly appreciate Jen’s ministry.

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I came across this great quote from The Brothers Karamazov

I believe like a child that suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage, like the despicable fabrication of the impotent and infinitely small Euclidean mind of man, that in the world’s finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, of all the blood they’ve shed; that it will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened.

It was in this great CT profile of writer Daniel Nayeri, written by Jonathan Crump. Nayeri has this as the epigram to his beautiful book Everything Sad Is Untrue. I listened to the audiobook a couple of years ago and loved it.

This quote by Dostoevsky was so timely for me to read. The world has always been broken, but sometimes the brokenness inches closer. We have a family in our small group grieving the loss of their son last year. A family in our Christian school just buried a beloved husband, father, and community leader after a sudden, unexpected death. A friend is going through a divorce. Two other friends are enduring cancer. Another friend has a difficult financial situation.

And then I zoom out and see a lot of suffering. I attended the International Religious Freedom Summit last week in Washington, D.C. and learned, afresh, about the severe persecution happening to many Christian brothers and sisters around the world and the oppression of many other minority faiths. I especially think of the brothers I know from Ukraine, whom I met last year. Constant bombing of their cities with promises of peace, but no let-up in the war. I think of the folks in Nigeria, where terrorist radicals routinely kidnap and murder Christians. And here in the US, while we enjoy much freedom and liberty, seemingly intractable social problems divide the country, and Christians spend their days arguing online over which 15-minute Super Bowl halftime show was best. For what it’s worth, I didn’t watch either.

Hope is essential, and here in the famed novel, Dostoevsky reaches for it. I’m generally a positive person, but even I get discouraged by hard things, both personal and in the world. Yet the truth of the Christian story can buoy us. I’m teaching apologetics this semester, and I just finished telling my class why Christianity being true really matters, both to persuade those who don’t believe and to bolster the flagging faith of those who do.

When my mom died a couple of years ago, it was the fact of Jesus’ resurrection that gave me hope.

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live. Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” John 11:25-26

I grieved Mom’s death as Jesus grieved Lazarus death. Death is the work of the enemy. And yet not as “those without hope” because I know that because of Jesus’ resurrection, those in Christ will be raised again, body and soul. I really believe this to be true.

To know that Christ will make all things new doesn’t make the pain go away. We walk through, not around, the valley of the shadow of death. But we walk with the one who holds us, who will get us to the other side, who promises that this life is not all there is. There is a better world coming.

To those who reject religion, this kind of hope seems fanciful, foolish, and ridiculous. But I don’t see much comfort in the alternative, a cold and dreary world that runs in random and where injustice is never made fully right, sickness is never healed, and death is never defeated. It is hard to understand, sometimes, a God who allows bad things. It’s even harder for me to find comfort in a belief that there isn’t a God who is working all of this for something beautiful. Faith is inescapable. Faith in nothing is a far worse framework than faith in God.

So I’m not sure where you are as you read this. Perhaps you are walking through a difficult season of life or maybe you are not. Maybe you are grieved by a confused and chaotic world are maybe you are not. Wherever you are, I think you can be comforted by the words from that great novel. Even more so, with the hope—grounded in truth—that Christ is making all things new.

I travelled this week to Huntsville, Alabama, to record an episode of the Room for Nuance podcast. It was a great, expansive conversation. I’m not sure when it will be released, but it was a wonderful time there with the host, Sean Demars, who is a faithful pastor and new friend.

A few other interviews with me have released:

• One with Harrison Lang and Truth in the Public Square

• One with the Reagan Caucus podcast.

A few notes:

• If you are preparing for Easter, you’ll love my book, The Characters of Easter

• If you are thinking about America’s 250 celebration, you’ll love my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism.

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As I write this, winter has made its way through Texas. In Fort Worth, we’ve been mostly stuck at home, with several inches of snow and ice on the ground and school cancelled for pretty much everyone. I taught a class online this morning from my home office. I’ve actually ventured out to a few places, but I have a trusty 2012 F-150 with four-wheel drive. Plus, I grew up in Chicago, so though I’ve lived below the Mason-Dixon line for nearly a decade and a half, the instincts are still there. It’s been great to spend this additional time with our family, a sort of bonus Christmas break.

I’ve been reading through the Bible in a year and just finished Genesis. Yes, I’m a couple of days behind. I plan on catching up on the weekend or finishing a few days into 2027. I took a few years off the through-the-Bible-in-a-year rhythm to hyperfocus on some specific books of the Bible, but I’m glad to be back in this habit. I like getting the Old Testament, the New Testament, the Psalms, and the Proverbs every day.

Back to Genesis. It’s remarkable, really. I’ve taught this wonderful book so many times. I’ve written about it, studied it, and yet when I open the Bible’s first book, it always comes at me fresh and new. I’ve been thinking about Joseph’s story, which is really Jacob’s story. Jacob’s life is one of contradictions. Chosen by God as the heir to the promise, his life is marked by deceit and scheming until he’s deceived by someone else’s schemes. His family was always a mess, from the start. A mom who conspires with him to deceive her husband and his father. Multiple wives and multiple midwives, with a constant petty drama that would make the most salacious reality show look like Sunday school flannel graph.

Let me pause here and say something. Today, moderns often point to the family drama in Genesis and say something like, “See, there really is no biblical pattern for marriage in the Bible because you have polygamy.” Yet can how you look at Jacob’s messed-up life and say the Bible offers that as the model? No, the Bible gives principles and then often gives stories that show how living apart from God’s way leads, always to misery.

And older Jacob would probably warn younger Jacob that all those feuding wives and mistresses would lead to so much heartache and pain and suffering. No, quite often in this sordid story, Genesis describes rather than prescribes. Sometimes we learn better with a story, a story of what we most certainly should not do.

For this family, it’s a series of one terrible thing after another. A daughter sexually assaulted and violated. Brothers’ murderous revenge. Kidnapping of Joseph and trafficking to Egypt. For Joseph, it’s highs and lows. High of being his father’s favorite, chosen heir, and dreams from God to come with it. Lows of near death, uncertainty, and being sold by his own family. Highs of being made Potiphar’s chief of staff. Lows of being falsely accused of a violent crime he didn’t commit—because he made the right choice. The high of being chosen as a leader in prison, the low of being forgotten by a man he helped save.

But finally, his moment comes. He’s made the prime minister of Egypt. This is where the story begins to resolve and gets good. His dreams fulfilled, his brothers now begging for mercy. He dispenses grace. He forgives and rewards them, not merely with reconciliation but overflowing blessing.

The reconciliation scenes Moses paints in Genesis always stir me. Joseph revealing himself. Joseph swept up in emotion. Joseph hugging his father for the first time in so many years. Joseph meeting Benjamin.

What is remarkable to me is this: after all of that family dysfunction due to Jacob’s poor choices and sin, repeated by his sons with equal fervor, there is this grand restoration. We skip over this fact, but did you realize that Joseph and Jacob had 17 years together before Jacob died? 17 years in comfort and prosperity. Yes, they were in a land not their own, but they were cared for by the prime minister of Egypt. Every need met.

Even more precious, though—after all that dysfunction and betrayal and heartache and scheming and loss—here is a season of restoration. Jacob, whose heart must have never fully healed after he thought his son had been ripped apart by wild animals, could finally rest. And, there is a precious scene where Jacob whispers his last words to his sons, lies down, puts his feet up, and, as the text says, “went to be with his fathers.” Joseph then bends down and kisses his father’s face one last time.

I’m reminded of this passage in Joel 2:25, memorized as a kid from the King James: “I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten.”

Sin is a locust, a “swarming locust,” some translations say. It eats away at our soul, our families, our lives. Sometimes we have to sit with the consequences of the poor choices we have made. For Jacob, these were big choices. He’d never be the same. There wasn’t going back.

And yet, in this season, life could be good, and it was. There was repentance and forgiveness and restoration.

You might be where Jacob was, and you can’t go back. But the beautiful grace of Jesus can restore. It can heal. It can repair what the locusts have eaten. Just as the brothers, undeservedly, were invited to dine at the table of this royal, their brother, so too we, sinners, are invited to dine at the King’s table. We have no business being there, and yet we are.

This is what we celebrate when we take the Lord’s Supper. We’ve been invited to dine with the King, Jesus. And it foreshadows that great day, when the restoration of our locust-ridden lives won’t be partial, but full. We’ll experience healing, body and soul, and sit like royals with our King in the New Jerusalem.

Jacob’s life and Joseph’s story aren’t an invitation to sin more. Nobody reading Genesis would conclude those sins were worth it. Wisdom says to follow the wind of the Spirit and live the way God intended us to live. But when we mess up our lives, as we are prone to do, God can and will restore. He will bring healing, some in this life, and fully in the life to come.

A few notes:

• I just turned in a lengthy chapter on Baptists and co-belligerence for an edited volume on Baptist social ethics for BH Academic, edited by my friends Jason Thacker and Nathan Finn. I enjoyed working on this.

• A new World column on the 320th anniversary of Benjamin Franklin’s birth was posted this week.

“I would not do that.”

This was the advice of my older friend, Bill, regarding a change I wanted to make in my first year as senior pastor of my church. I was 30 and a young leader and eager to bring life to this struggling congregation. Bill, who passed away a few years ago, became a father figure and mentor. He pastored several congregations and was, at this time, engaged in interim ministry. He was the interim pastor of our church before I became the pastor.

Yet I decided to do what I was going to do anyway. Bill, I thought, was a nice, kind man, but steeped in the old ways of doing ministry. He was old enough to be my grandfather.

I regretted that choice. Thankfully, it wasn’t a big enough change to hurt my leadership long term, but it did serve as a painful lesson: don’t dismiss the wisdom of your elders.

That was almost two decades ago. I’m kind of in the middle space now, where I find myself still receiving wisdom from older, wiser friends and dispensing wisdom to students, friends, and my house full of my own teenage kids. Yet I’m disquieted by a sort of society-wide resistance to received wisdom. It’s the “ok boomer” reflex we have toward ideas or opinions that are older than six months.

I hear it sometimes in Christian discourse about some of the wise men from the late twentieth century. What they say: “They did good work, but this is a new era, a new context, and they don’t have much to say about what we are trying to do today.” Think J.I. Packer, R.C. Sproul, Chuck Colson, C.S. Lewis, Francis Schaeffer, Tim Keller, Richard Land, Adrian Rogers, John Stott... well, I could go on.

I hear it in the discourse often about sports, which is a passion of mine. Every new exploit is the greatest of all time or the worst of all time. I hear it in the conversations about politics, where I’m sometimes told by some younger thinkers: “Ronald Reagan’s conservatism doesn’t work anymore,” And I’m thinking, well, I still think pro-life, pro-family, religious liberty, peace through strength, and free markets are pretty good things.

Of course, times do change. New challenges replace old challenges. We should learn and adapt. What’s more, older folks should heed what Paul urges Timothy in his leadership: “Don’t let anyone despise your youth (1 Timothy 4:12).” I am quite bullish on this generation, especially this up-and-coming generation of Christians.

Still I think we should not throw out the wisdom of our elders. Scripture has a lot to say about this. Consider Proverbs 23:22, which urges: “Listen to your father who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old.” This can refer to actual parents, but I believe it might also refer to moral and spiritual fathers and mothers. Why listen? Well, as Job 12:12 says, “Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days.”

Age doesn’t always translate to wisdom. We all know old folks who are unwise. But in the aggregate, there is an earned insight that can only be acquired through experience. My pastor friend had been where I had been and knew that the decision I was about to make was foolish. He’d seen that movie before. This is why gray hair in the Bible is not seen as a liability but as an asset (Proverbs 16:30. We should see it this way as well.

The best young voices I know consult their elders before making a huge decision. They study history before considering new ideas. They are humble about their own strength and impact. Timothy didn’t chafe under the mentorship of Paul. Paul flourished alongside Barnabas. Elisha asked for double the wisdom of Elijah.

The truth is that the church needs the next generation with their bold ideas and innovative strategies. But we also need the wisdom of the elders. The nation and the world need an intergenerational, unified church. Let’s say no to “ok boomer” and say no to the cranky dismissal of youth.

Here are a couple of my recent articles. The Dispatch asked me to write a piece reflecting on Senator Ben Sasse’s cancer diagnosis. Here’s a bit of what I wrote:

To many, this may come across as pie-in-the-sky, a comforting myth that helps you get away from the cold, hard reality of death. But Christians really believe there is another world coming, that this broken reality will give way to a world made right by the one who made it. Christians really believe that because Jesus rose again after his death, we too will rise again, body and soul. This is the hope about which pastor Tim Keller wrote in his final days. It’s what allowed Dietrich Bonhoeffer to whisper, before he was executed by the Nazi government, “This is the end, but for me it is the beginning of life.”

The hope of the eternal doesn’t erase the reality of cancer in a fallen world. True Christian hope is not flippant about death. The 11^th chapter of the Gospel of John tells the story of Jesus, standing before the rotted corpse of his friend Lazarus, weeping and overcome with rage. Christian theology teaches that death is an aberration, an intrusion into God’s good creation, the work of an unseen enemy. It is an attack against God himself, who fashioned humans in his image. Even the most devout Christian doesn’t welcome a terminal diagnosis, doesn’t shrug when loved ones are taken early. Because we see humans as God sees them, we are repulsed by death, sickened by violence, and must be defenders of human life.

Sasse rightly pledged to fight his cancer and we should all pray that God, through the human instruments of advanced medicine, heals his body and gives him many more years. Death isn’t natural—to fight death with the materials of God’s creation—is the natural thing. Yet, the inevitability of what comes for us can be faced with an otherworldly kind of joy.

You can read more here.

I also wrote for World on the 50th anniversary of the rise of the Khmer Rouge, one of the most evil regimes in human history. It’s a sober reminder of the reality of evil and of the tragic fruit of Marxism and communism:

A half century later, we rightly recoil at one of the worst genocides in the 20th century at a time when the term “genocide” is cheaply thrown around by activists. It’s a stark reminder of the logical end of the Marxist philosophy that promises utopia but only delivers suffering and death on a mass scale.

Today, too many, even in America, are indifferent to the idea of communism. A recent poll showed that 34% of Americans under 30 had a favorable view of the totalitarian ideology. And so many more are open to proposals that reflect communism’s softer cousin, socialism. The newly minted mayor of New York, for instance, has spoken fondly of the “warmth of collectivism.”

The only conclusion is that we’ve forgotten recent history. The 20th century reveals the mass brutality and suffering brought by Marxism, with at least 100 million dead and many more millions consigned to a miserable existence. Cambodia’s killing fields are just one snapshot of a brutal portfolio.

Ronald Reagan was right to call communism “the focus of evil in the modern world.” There is a reason that everywhere it is put into practice, Marxism seeks to destroy Christianity. Christianity elevates the dignity of the human person and orients the heart toward one another and toward the Creator. Communism destroys the conscience, treating people as cogs in a system, forcing conformity to the state, which is ultimate.

Read more here.

I thought I’d also mention some books I’m currently reading. This year I decided to bone up on some leadership ideas, so first in that pile is The Essential John Wooden.

I’m listening to 1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in Wall Street History and How it Shattered a Nation.

And, every morning with my Bible reading, I’m walking through A Quest for Godliness: The Puritan Vision of the Christian Life

Lastly, a few more reviews of my book In Defense of Christian Patriotism dropped. One by Jon Woodyard of Southwest Baptist University and another for Providence by Michael Lucheese, a former Capitol Hill staffer and assistant editor of Law and Liberty.

Well, happy 2026, my friends! It’s hard to believe we are over a quarter-century into this new millennium. I recall the fevered anticipation as the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2000. I was nearing the end of my college career. Now, looking back these many years later, I’ve been married for 23 years, have a house full of teenagers, and a kid in college. The world has changed, hasn’t it? Yet we can still say with Moses: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations (Psalm 90:1).

We have been hunkered down here, enjoying the downtime, celebrating two birthdays—I have a daughter born on Christmas Eve and a daughter born on New Year’s Eve—and gearing up for what is sure to be a full 2026.

I wanted to share a few pieces of mine that were published during this break. First up, an essay for First Things in which I talk about the tension in America between liberty and religion, church and state. As a Baptist, I’m very much an advocate for religious liberty and the American experiment, and yet have come to appreciate in recent years the vital importance of Christianity in preserving our liberties. A couple of months ago I was part of a colloquium sponsored by The Center for Religion, Culture, and Democracy in which several scholars from across Christian traditions wrestled with some of the documents, letters, and essays from the Founding era. I have been thinking about this a lot over the last few years, especially as I prepared to write my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism.

This essay in First Things reflects some of the conversations I had in that colloquium and some of my own thinking, as a committed Baptist. Here is an excerpt:

Today this tension is at the heart of our national debates. Unlike the men of the Founding era, scarred as they were by the religious wars of the old world, we find ourselves scarred by the fruits of modernity and the false promises of secularism. Twentieth-century jurisprudence moved from Madison’s “line of separation” between church and state to the “high and impregnable” wall of separation of Everson v. Board of Education (1947), misinterpreted from Jefferson’s letter to the Danbury Baptists. This created decades of jurisprudence that weaponized the establishment clause in open hostility to religion. Thankfully, in the last few decades, a more originalist court has peeled back the “Lemon test” that made courts allergic to any incidental contact between government and religion. Recent cases such as Kennedy, Hobby Lobby, Trinity Lutheran, and Fulton forbid the state from punishing religious organizations for the crime of being religious.

Still our debates rage. Secularism’s so-called neutral public square has been filled by all sorts of perverse ideologies, weakening the social contract. We’ve forgotten the warnings by the Founders of a society without virtue and bereft of the thick Christianity that makes liberty possible. John Adams’s words haunt us: “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious People. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”

The answer is not a rejection of the constitutional order that has endured for 250 years. Those who shaped this nation rightly recoiled at a state with the power to trample conscience. “God alone is Lord of the conscience,” echoed in Baptist and Presbyterian confessions, is still a good warning to governments who seek to compel belief. Jesus’s rendering only some rights to Caesar still stands. Caesar can barely run a functioning post office or pass a healthy budget. We shouldn’t think the state—as opposed to the God from whom our rights originate—is equipped to separate sheep from goats and wheat from tares. History shows us that a state with this power only ever damages some segment of Christ’s church. Conversion at the end of the sword is not true conversion. What’s more, the most vocal of those who call for this kind of arrangement don’t engender confidence that they can be trusted with this power. There’s a large gap between edge-lording meme-makers and a so-called Christian prince. In a fallen world, I’ll take my chances with the American experiment.

Still, those of us who proudly champion religious liberty and who resist such theocratic projects should be more vocal about the thick Christian culture that is required to uphold this experiment. For instance, it was in vogue, at the start of the twenty-first century and during the rise of progressive social movements, for well-meaning Christians to celebrate the death of cultural Christianity. In this framework, secularism would help make the distinctions clear between genuine believers and the posers. I think this is naive, because what fills the void left by the loss of this consensus is worse. To be sure, cultural Christianity isn’t salvific. The church must still say, as Jesus said to the very religious Nicodemus, “You must be born again.”

You can read the rest here.

I also published a few World columns in December. Here are a few you may have missed:

• A column about the “audacity of Christmas” in a time of tumult.

• A tribute to WWII hero George Patton on the 80th anniversary of his death

• A reflection on the anniversary of the landing of the Mayflower

• An audio commentary, urging Christians to remember persecuted Christians in 2026

Lastly, here is an update on some projects:

• I’m working to finish a chapter on “co-belligerence” for a volume on Baptist Social Ethics edited by my friends Nathan Finn and Jason Thacker. I got a good chunk of it written during the break and plan to finish this month.

• My book with B&H, Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life: Ethical Answers for Cultural Questions will release at the end of May.

• I’m also committed to a new Christmas book for Moody Publishers. Manuscript due Feb of 27, so I have some time for that. I plan on working on it, in earnest, this coming summer.

• I also have a smattering of articles to complete this month for a few different places. I’ll have more when they are published.

I pray you had a wonderful Christmas season with your family and that you have a flourishing New Year.

I have been singing “Silent Night” most of my life. I remember turning to the pages in the old red hymnal on Christmas Eve. My childhood church held a Christmas Eve service at 11 pm. I always looked forward to that service as a kid. We’d bring some gifts for our church friends and distribute them. We’d do one final check in the church Christmas card file (arranged by last name). We’d heard a Christmas message. And then we’d light our candles, turn out the lights, and sing Silent Night.

When I became a pastor, I looked forward to Christmas Eve. It was one of my favorite times of the year with our church family. Again, we’d light the candles and stand on the perimeter of our little auditorium, then sing Silent Night. One year, Angela was giving birth to our third child, Emma. A few hours after the delivery, I dashed back from the hospital, through a snowstorm, in time to preach the service, and then dashed back to my wife’s side. I don’t recommend that young pastors try to be as heroic! Find an elder to preach. Another time, while an associate pastor in Tennessee, the paper guard on my candle caught fire, and I had to dash to the bathroom to put it out.

The song is so rich with meaning for me. I’ve sung it as a little child, clasping my mother’s hand. I’ve sung it by my mother’s bedside as she was passing. I’ve sung it as an adult, clasping the hands of my own children. I’ve sung it in Times Square. I’ve sung it in Ukraine with Christians in a time of war. I’ve sung it, after climbing down rickety stairs to a grotto underneath the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, standing on the very place where many think Jesus was born.

Now, when I hear the lyrics, it’s hard to hold it in. Such a beautiful song about the most beautiful night in human history, when the God of the universe left heaven, took on human flesh, and dwelt among us in the most vulnerable way.

A few updates.

• The January print edition of World featured a reflection I wrote on the four books that shaped my view of patriotism. It was hard to distill it down to four. I could have added about ten more. But I like the ones I chose: Colson, Smith, Tocqueville, Lewis. Here’s a snippet:

  For American Christians, patriot­ism, born out of gratitude, openhanded in generosity, enlarged in spirit, is both right and proper. Let us, then, pray to God, that in our day we may do the work of renewal, in the face of many challenges, and leave a nation as special for our children as it was for us.

• I had a long conversation with my friend Warren Cole Smith about this book. He asked great questions. You can listen here:

• Nathan Finn, who is a senior fellow at The Land Center, hosted a roundtable on my book, In Defense of Christian Patriotism:

  • Finn’s opening review

  • John Wilsey, historian, author, and theologian on patriotism as gratitude

  • Evan Lenow, educator, author, ethicist, asks if Christians can indeed be proud of America

• Speaking of John Wilsey: here he is a guest on my podcast, talking about conservatism and how to think about American history.

• And last, but not least, I want to remind you about my Christmas resources:

  • The Characters of Christmas

  • Jesus and the Characters of Christmas (children’s board book)

This is my last newsletter before the new year. I pray all of you have a wonderful Christmas season, reflecting on the birth of our Savior. We will see you in 2026.