Did you know that there are people who hate vanilla shakes?

This is an argument that my wife Adrian and I have had running for the past several years. I contend that there are sometimes that I just want a vanilla shake. Her premise is that vanilla shakes are terrible and why would anyone ever order one if you can get chocolate or strawberry or cookies ‘n cream?

This argument has not just stopped with us, we’ve taken it public on social media. In fact, I’m going to drop a poll on a Substack note with this post seeing what your opinion is. And I’ll tell you, it’s been a surprisingly divisive conversation. People have some big feelings about vanilla.

Why the whole debate strikes me as strange is that many people don’t think of vanilla as a flavor. It is just the base for ice cream. If ice cream were a novel, many think of vanilla not as a genre of story but just a blank page. Might as well chew on some ice.

While I disagree with the premise that no one likes vanilla shakes, I had a strange connection with the idea the other morning while driving to church. Usually when driving to church I put on a Spotify playlist I call Throne. You can find it here:

This playlist is built with worship music, with the intention of preparing the heart for worship that day at church. In populating the list, I’ve tried to find new worship music, mixing it with old and medium. Most of the time it’s refreshing. On this morning, it was less so.

As I was winding through the hills I found myself wondering at the sameness of a lot of the music I was listening to. They were proclaiming truths about God, but over and over again each track I was listening to was autotuned (Note: this was not all the songs, but happened to be the shuffle Spotify created today). In the attempt to streamline the music and to make it as perfect as possible, the producers had taken all the humanity out of the music. And I felt myself growing weary of the sameness of it all.

As a pastor, I frequently hear complaints about worship music. Usually the complaints circle around opinions of how the songs sound. Too loud, too soft, not very good, too production-y, and on and on. While the lyrics sing about the glory of Jesus, the hearts wind around the axle of opinion.

It makes me stop and think, “Why?” Why do we get so uptight around the idea and the form of worship singing? Externally they would contend that the reason is for the sake of nonbelievers. Yet that externality is diminished by the reality that they’ve never talked about Jesus to anyone outside of the people they already interact with in church. So while there is a shadow of concern, that’s not it.

I think sometimes people in churches think about the time of worship like a performance of American Idol and that they get a crowd vote. Because of the heavy consumeristic weight that’s placed on the church today, there is a spirit that says, “You’re the expert. If you’re not pleased with the product, then you have the right to complain.” Or worse, vote the singer out. And because of this overwhelming pressure, much worship music starts to sound exactly the same.

I do want to pause here before you think this is a bash against any one style of worship. I’ve seen this play out in both settings for traditional, liturgical, modern, and so on. The weight of expectant performance is universal beyond the style in which the music is presented. Long story short, don’t use these thoughts as a base for griping about a music style.

So if the style ultimately doesn’t reveal the quality of worship, what does?

In college, I had a great friend who loved music. He played guitar, listened to music all the way up, and loved going to concerts. This love of music crossed over into the School Chapel where we had mandatory participation. (Nothing like mandatory attendance to stir the spirit…lol).

But there was just one issue for my friend: he was absolutely tone deaf. He was easily the worst singer I had ever heard. And what he lacked in tuning, he made up for with volume. He sincerely and earnestly sang his heart out to the Lord.

I’ve heard Children’s Choirs sing with nothing approaching a tune. I’ve heard older folks sing with diminishing physical ability. I’ve heard people try and absolutely fail to harmonize in a worship service.

And it’s beautiful.

What we lack is not a better performance. Even if we didn’t live in the era of absolute individual connection through technology, there has always been a better produced worship service than the one you’re in. There are always better musicians, better singers, etc. And in the history of the world, let’s be honest: no matter how good you are, you’re not that good.

This is what we are missing. We are missing the out of tune, the loud but sincere, the physically struggling who are pressing forward to bring their gift of worship to Jesus. We are missing a heart that sets aside our self-importance to remember that Jesus couldn’t care less what you think about the quality of production at a worship service.

But you know what I believe grieves the heart of God? When worshipers fail to even lift their voices in a worship service either out of judgment of the quality or an anxiety of being judged by others. When we read the passages of Jesus’s thoughts about the judgment of the Pharisees (Matthew 23), I wonder if those of us judging the quality of a worship service may find ourselves there. And in the expression of our dissatisfaction on the quality of worship, there’s a terrifying reality that we may be making others “twice the sons of hell.”

Because I’m sure the music in hell is OK, but just not quite good enough.

Jesus never said that people would know that we are disciples of his because of the quality of our sound. He said that they will know us by our love. (John 13:35)

My high school graduation was held at TCU in their basketball gym. There were thousands of Aledoans (Aledoites, Aledoese?) and families gathered there to celebrate the graduates. It was easy to get lost in a sea of orange and black. It was seemingly impossible for me to find my family amid the crowd. There was no way I was going to see them, and since this was in the age of dinosaurs before cell phones were ubiquitous, they couldn’t tell me where they were going to be.

But when I crossed the stage, I heard a chorus of klaxon air horns ring out and my family screaming in celebration. Yeah, it was obnoxious (and probably against the rules), but I didn’t care. I didn’t know my family’s love by the quality of their airhorns; I knew it because they raised their voices and their hearts sincerely.

Friend, no matter what style of worship you attend, the Lord wants your sincerity. He wants your anxieties, he wants your excitement, he wants your creativity, he wants your sadness, he wants your intellect, he wants your understanding, he wants your voice.

He doesn’t want judgment in your worship.

A last biblical note: in Luke 18, Jesus gives us a parable about two worshipers. One is a religious leader and the other is a tax collector. The religious leader stood before God in the Temple talking about all the great stuff he’s done and given, even to the extent of telling God he’s grateful that he’s not a bad person like that tax collector. The tax collector only kneels and asks the Lord to have mercy on him as a sinner, leaning into the grace of God. Jesus makes the remark that one of them left justified, inferring that the key to good worship is grace, not works.

I wonder how many of us leave a worship service unjustified because we spent the service judging the quality of it.

One of the greatest miracles we will experience is when Jesus takes a congregation of sinners, some who sing well, some who sing poorly, and makes their rising harmony powerful. We see his act of creation when we gather with one heart and voice. The church needs people who see through the games people play to let their voice ring out for the encouraging and building up of the saints. No matter how broken your voice is, it has a place in the body.

Let’s make some racket y’all, and celebrate as Jesus pours his Spirit and grace among us.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing!

Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him, bless his name.

For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 100

Today I was listening to some of the music I enjoyed as a young adult. (Ugh…can’t believe that “young adult” is now in my past). One of the bands I picked up in college that I really enjoyed is called Guster. They have witty lyrics, wonderful harmonies, and are fun to listen to in general. (The above picture is from Austin City Limits Festival in 2006 when I got to see them in concert…a million years ago and a few miles away)

Today as I was doing the dishes, I thought to listen to one of the songs I enjoyed by them “Hang On.” The song’s chorus sticks in my mind as a good harmonizer and ostensibly as an encourager. At least I remembered it that way. But then today as I was diving deep past sippy cups and yesterday’s dinner in the dishes, the lyrics rang out which I’d forgotten:

“Here we are inside a novel/waiting for an end/ We don’t know the authors of the book./ Maybe someone’s writing chapters/ for us while we sleep/ from a million miles away.

“Stuck without a captain or a chart/ no one seems to know just who to follow anymore./ Hang on.”

Written 20 years ago, the lyrics could honestly go to any generation. But as I read the news today of uncertainty, of distrust, of public rancor, it could’ve been written yesterday. There is an ache in the world that wants to rise above, but stays below the surface for fear.

I remember a few years ago watching a television show where the characters were playing Pictionary. One of the players was frustrated and kept hitting the drawing trying to get his team to guess what he’d drawn. The timer ran out, and throwing the marker disgustedly, he said, “It’s hope! Can’t you see it??? It’s hope!”

Sometimes hope is the hardest reality to grasp.

I watch person after person reach out for understanding, wanting a tangible hope to grab onto. Because in our hearts, we know that undefined hope is no hope at all. Wishful thinking in our culture is taking the long arc down toward the earth like the Hindenburg, while those around shout “O the humanity!”

Looking for the silver lining, blindly pushing away fear and logic for the sake of “it’ll probably be alright,” don’t keep the storms out. Try as we might to use generic positivity to deny the hard things, culture doesn’t buy it. They know the hard places, they know the dryness. They know the confusion and the anxiety.

That’s why the song by Guster stirs so my heart so deeply. Not in a depressed nihilistic state, but in one of pity. What sadness is there in the world when our only hope is attached to a meaningless intention to hang on to something.

It leads me to praise God that those shadows of doubt are not the reality.

Hillsong United wrote a song a few years ago that came to mind when I was listening to the Guster song today. It’s called “Captain.” The whole song is wonderful, but in particular here’s a couple of the lyrics:

“Through waters uncharted my soul will embark/ I’ll follow your voice straight into the dark./ If from the course I intend to depart/ speak to the sails of my wandering heart.

“Like a wind you’ll guide/ clear the skies before me/ and I’ll glide this open sea. /Like the stars your Word/ will align my voyage/ and remind me where I’ve been/ and where I’m going.”

What a contrast. What a difference the captain makes. What a difference his Word makes. We aren’t left without either. We are given in black and white, in the chorus of the believing, our path ahead.

It is remarkable that in this life, hope isn’t wishful thinking. It’s taking the next step. It is recognizing the faithfulness of our captain as we’ve gone, and leaning on his wisdom to set a path forward. There are no signs, no roads upon the sea. But there are stars.

Today, you may find yourself in a place where you wonder about hope. Your feet long for a solid ground to follow, and it may seem like you are in the middle of the ocean at night. Perhaps the reason the path is so hard to find for you is that you’ve never leaned into the hope that our captain, Jesus Christ, gives us.

Or perhaps you have wandered in the journey trying to take the wheel for yourself. What foolishness for a person who doesn’t know the map to try to snatch the wheel for ourselves.

If hurt is universal, hope is universal. It abandons the illogical security of self-made plans, and actually trusts on the one who knows the way. Maybe the issue isn’t the darkness and uncertainty of the world, but the darkness and uncertainty of our own hearts.

Today, grasp hope. Cease striving and know that the Lord is God. Know that the world is grasped in his hand and heart and that there is nothing that can dissolve, degrade, or diminish the hope we have in him. Don’t hang on just for the sake of hanging on, but open the sails to the adventure ahead.

One last thought: James reminds us in his book, “yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” (James 4:13) Though this section is speaking against boasting, the point remains that we are never guaranteed tomorrow. How can hope exist when we don’t have that assurance?

Hope is not a picture of tomorrow; it is knowing who is taking us there. I think on the image of a mountaineer guide. When I sign on for a guided climb, I have no idea or picture of what the climb will look like or what it will be like getting there. But I do know that I have a guide who travels with me.

Hope is knowing that Jesus serves as your guide. Hope is taking the next step.

Let me make this a bit more personal. Following is a picture of me from that 2006 festival:

Yes it was hot. Yes I had a soul patch. Yes I was in the phase where taking a sepiatone digital photograph was artsy. Let’s just move on.

What did hope look like for that version of Matt? I had no conception of who I’d be married to or what kind of family I’d have. I had no idea about Covid, what a pathway of ministry would look like, what it would be like to have a child go through CVICU and another child go through 80+ days of NICU. I may have had some image of what a picture would look like of my life 20 years later, but it certainly wasn’t anything solid.

If my hope had depended on 20 year old Matt’s understanding of the future, life would be pretty rough. Heck, I’d probably still have that soul patch.

Hope in my life hasn’t looked like hanging on. Hope in my life has been letting go. I’ve never been strong enough for the trials that our family has faced. I’m certainly not strong enough for the challenges that 60 year old Matt will have. But I don’t have to be. My hope isn’t dependent on me being strong enough to hang on.

My hope is in Jesus. He doesn’t need me to hold on. He needs me to let go and allow him to guide the way.

Don’t just hang on friend. Let go, and let Jesus guide your way.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. ² Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. ³ Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴ and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵ and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. Romans 5:1-5

I really hate doing stuff around the house.

It’s not that I’m lazy (though that often certainly is the case). For the life of me if I’m trying to build or cut something in a home it absolutely will not go in a straight line. No matter how much forethought or intended precision I try, it just will not go on right.

I remember the horrors I produced as a child when trying to cut poster board or draw a straight line on the project. Try as I might, I never get it right on the first try.

Flash forward to adulthood with a wife whose dad was the world’s best handyman. Dude could fix anything. And here I am borderline losing my religion because I can’t get all the wires connected and in the insanely tiny box in the ceiling for a new ceiling fan, and oh by the way forgot to turn off the breaker so shocked myself and maybe we’re done or maybe I did the first step backwards so I have to disassemble the entire mess…

OK, breathe. The fan can’t hurt you. Hampton Bay is not out to get you (probably).

But there is a high level of frustration for me that try as I might to get these projects right the first time, there is almost always a step I do backwards or a frame that hangs crooked.

When I put the nail in the wrong way or bend the nail, my initial thought is that I will just drop another nail into that hole and it’ll be all good. Nobody is the wiser and I don’t have to worry about remeasuring or patching or any of that stuff.

But what inevitably happens when I try the quick way, in denial that I made a mistake on the first try, the nail doesn’t seat well in the hole and when I try to hang a frame upon it, it crashes to the floor. Or almost worse, you get everything aligned and only realize afterward that you hung it crooked.

Forward growth in life can’t hang upon denial of mistake.

We all deal with mistakes from our past. But if we don’t make the attempt to recognize the issues and work to repair, we risk the stability of future growth. Broken relationships lead to broken relationships. Long-term unresolved sin brings new term sinful responses. Fears and disappointments change our actions of tomorrow.

The first step to resolve this is probably the hardest: letting down our pride to recognize that we did it wrong. We may just look at our mistakes with a view to just get the ends done and the product up. God wants us to look at our mistakes and repair.

Because here is the deepest secret with these mistakes: we deny them because we are afraid that we will be devalued. For me, my unwillingness to fix things is less connected to laziness as it is to the fear that if I do it wrong people will think that I’m worthless or not helpful. I connect my ability to fix things well to my worth, and mistakes lead to shame.

You may make decisions today based on the shame of past mistakes or hurts. The pressures of life and the burdens of living well cannot hang on a loose nail.

What if the issue is not your lack of skill in resolving issues, but in your unwillingness to let Jesus forgive and restore you? He is the great physician, the lover of our souls, and where we create destruction and degrade, he can bring redemption and wholeness.

What if our worth is based less on our ability to do all things right, and more on his reality that he does all things well?

As you think across your life and meditate on the truth of the repair, my hope is that you’ll offer up to Jesus your anxieties, your failures, your roots. Let the things that hindered and spoiled be laid at his feet so that he can lift you up.

The best news of all of this is that we’re not alone. History is littered with those who sowed devastation in their lives, reaped disaster, and who were redeemed to partner with Jesus in redeeming the anguished.

• John Newton: repentant slave-trader, wrote the hymn Amazing Grace, mentored Wilberforce in ending the slave trade in England

• Charles Colson: member of the Nixon administration who participated in the Watergate Scandal, after jail sentence became a Christian apologist

• CS Lewis: a disaffected and hurting atheist, after salvation became the most tremendous Christian writer in the English language

• St. Augustine: a known heretic and philanderer, after salvation became a “doctor of the Church” and one of the most important philosophers in Church History and Theology

• Paul: persecutor of the Church, the first missionary to Europe

The list goes on. Your life may have started with devastation, but Christ wants to bring it to glory. Let him repair that which is misaligned, that which is broken, so that his glory can come. The life that is redeemed is so much more than a weak hanger.

Let’s make the repair, re-measure, and try again with the architect of our souls.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him, you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’ 1 Corinthians 1:26-31

The other day I ran across some ancient Italian ruins. You know the type: sun bleached, broken off at the top, reminding of the Tuscan countryside.

Of course, set into those ruins was an advertisement to a truly mediocre restaurant. They were faux ruins, an artistic fabrication. In Central Texas you’d be challenged to find any authentic Tuscan ruins; but you’d be more challenged to not run across thousands of homes, neighborhoods, and restaurants designed to resemble that age. Like Olive Garden.

It struck me as strange. What is it about the old things that draw us? Clearly, Americans in 2026 wouldn’t be excited to live in a place that had no air conditioning, walking uphill every which way, and not having electric lights. And yet, we design living spaces to mimic.

I believe we do this because we long.

We long for dream-like, simple places that speak to an uncomplicated memory we never had. We long to be drawn into legend and story and myth. There is something about those ruins that draw our hearts. In a confused world, we want a world that makes sense, that aspires to beauty beyond the brutal.

But sometimes we can get lost in that longing.

It is interesting to me that in multiple cities that I’ve visited (Charleston, New Orleans, Cairo, etc.) that graveyards are very rarely designed in modern ways. Especially in Cairo, there is a place called the “Dead City” which is a whole quarter of the city used as a graveyard. People keep their family plots there. But it’s not like an American graveyard: it has a full facade and looks like an empty city of houses. They have streets and thresholds and windows. All in an older style.

Some people live in those ruins.

There is a whole community of people that live and do business in the “Dead City.” The community’s existence is just matter of fact.

Some people live in ruins.

I think on the story from Mark 5 where Jesus confronts a man possessed by a Legion of demons. The passage tells us that the man “lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him anymore, even with a chain…” (Mark 5:3) This man was cast out from the places of the living to live among the dead where he was tormented by demons. His life was no life but broken chains that still remained.

Some people live in ruins.

I often hear stories from people that live in the ruins of their family’s expectations. I see people who live in the ruins of abuse. There are ruins of addiction, of failure, of disappointment, of illness. They long to escape the ruins, but find no liberty.

What helped the man in the story of Mark 5? Was it a self-help group? Was it a social program? Was it “good vibes” and well-wishes? Was it violent restraint, social isolation? If anything, these attempts just pushed him deeper into the pathways of the dead.

No, it was the power and person of Jesus who drove out the demons and welcomed the man home. Mark 5:15 even remarks that the previously possessed man was sitting dressed, chatting, speaking his right mind. It was Jesus’ authority over death and hell that rescued this man from his ruins.

But note the response from the people: “…and they were afraid.” (Mark 5:15) The people had grown accustomed to the man among the graves, the tormented soul in the ruins. Society shrugged it off, condemning the man. His hell had become their normalcy. And they were OK with it.

But when Jesus came and moved heaven among them, they asked him to leave. Imagine being more afraid of redemption (and economic difficulty) than of slavery to the demonic.

And yet, when faced with difficult people in our world, or those who think differently than we do, or those who have a different background than ours, we are content to decorate our homes with their ruins. Instead of longing for Jesus to walk in and illuminate the places of death, we just don’t want to rock the boat.

How does the story end?

The man in gratitude wants to follow Jesus. Instead Jesus tells him, “‘Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.’ And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled.” (Mark 5:19-20)

The man who knew what it was like to live in the ruins was sent to bring light to those who still did.

Some of you who are reading this may have spent a life in the ruins. While Jesus rescued you, you wonder how he could ever possibly use someone like you. Friend, it is the people who are rescued from ruins that are the best capable of bringing the light there. This is the heart, the nature of redemption. You are the heart of redemption, and Jesus breaks the chains for you.

So the next time you see fake ruins, I hope it causes you to stop and consider: are there those around me who are longing for the light of Jesus? Are there those that would open their heart to Jesus if only someone would step into the ruin?

Maybe our redemption is the key for rescue of others.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

“Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” Mark 5:19

Robert Browning wrote, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, else what’s heaven for?” When cited, usually writers intend for this quote to push innovation and experimentation. It’s like space exploration and the future of invention. It’s Segways and Dipping Dots and Amazon slinging billionaires into orbit.

After all, we place innovation and pushing the envelope up to the highest levels of virtue. We should expand, explore, explode (in a good way) toward the horizon and beyond. It’s really inspiring to reach for the beyond.

But as Browning wrote the line in a poem, the intention of the speaker was to express that while his technical skills were perfection, he lacked the artistic soul that the other masters of the Renaissance had. He did not have the depth. He expressed conviction that he would try to go above and beyond his depth.

Ironically, the speaker in the poem wasn’t concerned with his technical expertise or expanding it. He didn’t care about the horizons of technology; he cared about the horizons of the heart and the unplumbed depths therein.

The other day my middle daughter ran up to me to do a “20 Second Hug.” If you’ve not heard of it, hugging someone intentionally for 20 seconds releases endorphins and such. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do love a good long hug from my daughters.

Anyway, when she ran up to me to give me a hug she stood up on her tip toes. She is definitely shorter than me and there is no way that standing up on her toes would make any kind of difference on getting to eye level. But she did it anyway, and stayed in the tiptoes position for the entirety of the hug.

I think she gets it.

She recognizes that in our striving, we don’t just look for the accomplishments and the goals. We seek depth. Our reach should be deep into the heart, not just the head. Even though we can’t possibly reach the height, her heart longs to go beyond to show love and compassion to her dad.

The knees of Christians are like those tiptoes. As we bow the knee to our Father, we recognize that he dwells in heights that we cannot even possibly comprehend. Like Scripture says it, “Who has measured the Spirit of the Lord, or what man shows him counsel?” (Isaiah 40:13) And again, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘For as high as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.’” (Isaiah 55:8-9) As we sink into the swamp of life, we cannot attain that perfection or even a slight grasp of that love or of that mind.

But as we lean into his grace, and stand on the tiptoes of our knees, we don’t seek mastery over the Lord. We seek to look into the depths of his heart. We long to express our need of him, our gratitude for his grace, our hope that he will redeem that which is broken.

We reach into prayer to grasp at grace. That is a horizon that we’ll never truly master. But it is the truest delight of life.

When you approach the Father in prayer, what are you reaching for? Do you reach for mastery, for stability, for success? Do your fingers claw up at prosperity and health? Do you ball your fists in protection and fear?

Or do you humbly raise up on tiptoes, craving the closeness of the Lord and communion with him? When did you last pray to the Lord in adoration rather than transaction?

As we approach in prayer, there is humility and joy. But I believe our focus has to escape from our clutches to his heart. If we reach with enthusiasm toward the heart of God, we will never reach his horizon, but we will delight in the way.

I especially hope that if you struggle with the burden of perfectionism and disappointment, you’ll consider this devotion as a pointer toward depth and not just height. In our world, we can grow dejected when we see the heights that we want but that we can’t reach them. Like swimmers trying to get to the bottom of the ocean floor, it can get beyond just disappointment to actual hurt.

Friend, you’re not perfect nor will you ever be. And that’s OK. No one is, save Jesus Christ. Instead of mourning the lack of our own perfection, let’s glory in the grace that he lifts us up to join him. You may not get there on your tiptoes, but you can be raised up in his grace.

For, “a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or else what’s heaven for?”

Signs and wonders y’all.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
² My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God? Psalm 42:1-2

A few years ago, I ran a training for our Bible teachers at the church where I did everything wrong. On purpose.

I started early, didn’t label the room we were meeting in, didn’t have the room prepared, made it awkward for people coming in, had powerpoint slides with tiny font and way too much content. And that was only some of the nonsense I did.

It was a glorious masterpiece of cringe.

The purpose was to help our teachers see, observe, and feel what happens to participants when we don’t screen the cringiness in Bible Study. It was an experience they won’t soon forget.

In that same vein, I was thinking the other day about other kinds of cringey communications, and was inspired to write the following email text. I hope it makes you as uncomfortable reading it as it makes me writing it.

SUBJECT: FWD: Responding to the data from scheduling a meeting on Friday at 4:00 PM, CST

To whom it may concern,

I HOPE THIS EMAIL FINDS YOU WELL!

As per my last E-mail, I kind of wanted to circle back on the topic we introduced in the last meeting and loop in some of the rest of the team! I know that we put a pin in it, but I think its IMPERATIVE to push the envelope forward. I mean, who will press forward if not us???

It reminds me about a converstaion u had with that person. u remember? Please advise.

If you can, pls be sure to reply all to this email. AGAIN PLEASE NOTE THE URGENCY OF THIS EMAIL. Tks for you’re attention to this matter.

XOXO,

Dearest Co-worker.

OK. I hope you didn’t crash out over that cringefest. Breathe in, breathe out. The grammar errors can’t hurt you.

As believers, we shouldn’t be held hostage by the limitless amount of rules of HR engagement. But when I read things like a Yahoo poll saying that 55% of Gen Z fail to engage emotionally in different environments for fear of being cringe, I think it’s important for us to respond appropriately.

In sharing the gospel and in general communication, how do we purposely utilize language that communicates clearly? Isn’t it worth the effort for us to join in with the writers of Scripture in endeavoring to write in a way that people would accept and understand if it brings glory to Jesus Christ?

It may be that the difference between our communication falling on deaf ears and landing meaningfully is just a little bit of self-perspective.

And maybe a good spell-checker.

XOXO, Matt.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

⁵ Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. ⁶ Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.

Colossians 4:5-6

When my wife and I first got married, she tried to get me to go eat at a ramen restaurant.

My initial reaction was…nope. (To be fair, that’s my reaction to almost everything in life that I don’t have a good reference for. I’m not exactly an enthusiastic tryer of new things.)

Anyway, when she pitched the idea to me, I couldn’t believe the thought of paying $18 for what was essentially chicken noodle soup. Of course, my reference for ramen were the crispy noodle packs that people would buy in college. They were the essence of cheap food. I think at a point they were like 5¢ a package. I also hated the smell in college of ramen cooking, so the idea was not appealing.

Finally, years later I was tricked into eating ramen and actually did enjoy it. I now look forward now to times when I can eat good ramen (even if it is obscenely expensive).

But here’s what’s interesting about ramen: it is classically a street food for the urban poor. It became popular in Japanese cities for working-class Chinese immigrants in the early 1900s. It was cheap, filling, and abundant. So how did a food that the urban poor ate become an expensive delicacy 100 years later?

When I look at other cuisines, similar things happen:

A $23 cheeseburger.

$40 for a pound of beef barbecue brisket (classically one of the worst meat cuts on a cow…so tough that it had to be cooked for hours to break down into being something edible…and don’t get started on what goes into a sausage).

$25 for ratatouille (not the movie, but the French peasant dish)

And to top it all off: $4 for a cup of black coffee (hot water running past cooked beans)

How is this possible?

Inflation, tariffs, supply chains, and on and on affect these costs. But what I’ve primarily observed is that things like these stay higher as prices go up. There’s something deeper.

Illustration of the point: back when Adrian and I were dating, I liked to draw her into stupid arguments on things. And in particular, picking an opinion I didn’t really care about, but just wanted to see how she would react. I would say this is because I’m an oldest child in my family and I have an engineer for a dad; everyone else would say it’s because I’m a jerk which is probably more true.

On one of our car rides, I drew Adrian into an argument about TexMex. We were talking about going to a very nice TexMex restaurant and what we thought we’d order there. I then proceeded to make the argument that *in essence all TexMex food is the same. There’s tortillas, there’s rice and beans, and a meat of some sort. If I go to a TexMex restaurant, I’m not going to expect something exotic on the menu like an eggplant or a souffle. There will be tacos, there will be enchiladas, there will be fajitas, there will be flan. Thus, in my all-knowing reason, I made the conclusion that since all TexMex is essentially the same, Taco Bell and this fancy restaurant were essentially the same thing with the latter being way more expensive.

It was not received well.

Now granted, we were hungry, it was hot, and she knew that I was just arguing for argument’s sake. But we’ve probably never had a more heated argument in our relationship. Of course it was nonsense and I apologized later for being a jerk, but what struck me was the emotive reaction. I mean, who cares if Taco Bell and a fancy TexMex restaurant are essentially the same? And why should one be priced so differently?

Another example: I heard once about a family dinner that took an odd turn. The mother of the family wanted to serve a delicacy, so she prepared lobster. It was well-prepared and was going to be delicious. But when the father of the family realized that he had taken a bite of lobster, he spit it out disgusted. Why? Because he had grown up on an island. On the island, those who had means would have boats with which they could go get fish. It was only those who were poor that would go for lobster because they could be gotten from the reefs near the shore. In his heart, lobster was a lousy meal. His value wasn’t in the taste or complexity or delicacy of the item, but rather in the heart value he placed in it.

For all of the examples above, the answer is that values matter more than complexity.

In our hearts, we build up prideful arguments that we are complex and sophisticated people. But when it comes down to what we want and what we will engage with, we’ll orientate back to things that we know and trust.

One time in college I was in the midst of a devotional season where I was meditating on the universal nature of worship. That is worship is not just singing, but is embedded in everything we do. Per Colossians 3:17, “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” In this channel of thought, I considered food. On one Sunday, I remember going back to my tiny apartment with a Taco Bell order, and I remembered worshiping God even in the humbleness of that meal. It wasn’t some complex, mechanical theology. The prayer was, “Thank you God for providing this; thank you for the sense of taste. You do all things well, even Taco Bell.” And lo and behold, that was probably the best Taco Bell meal I ever ate. I enjoyed it to the utmost.

If prices reflect value, then we understand that sometimes it is the simple and good that we want most. We’d rather swim in the electric blue sea of the Cayman Islands than in a highly chlorinated pool. We’d rather climb to the heights of summits rather than ride a ski lift up. We’d rather sleep in our own beds than in a fancy hotel bed.

When it comes to worship, our value should rest in the simple and good. We don’t worship a systematic theology. We worship the Creator of the Universe. We worship the one described simply as “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” We don’t seek a complicated relationship with God, but one in which we freely profess with grace “I love you” and know that we are loved by him more than we possibly could imagine. We don’t seek a prideful perfection, but recognize that while we were still sinners that Christ died for us. He didn’t make us find a way to bridge the chasm; he made a way.

So when you tuck in to your $18 bowl of ramen, enjoy it. Savor it and give thanks to the Father for the goodness of his grace. Take time to appreciate how in the simple things, God still reveals his beauty and wonder. Who knows but that the next time you have Taco Bell might be a the best meal you’ve ever had?

Signs and wonders, y’all.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!
Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! Psalm 34:8

The other day I was minding my own business driving in my car. I enjoy listening to my music and audiobooks while commuting from point A to point B. Sometimes it’s an oasis of calm and control amid a hurricane of busyness that seems to follow me around.

All of a sudden, into my reverie bursts a song talking about dance moves and boys. Immediately grimacing at the Swiftiness of the song I hurriedly maneuvered the phone to get it back onto music that I deem as relaxing and fun. Then to my chagrin, it changed again without prompt, back to KPop and Taylor Swift. What ghost was this??? What phantom had control of my precious playlist, my carefully curated audio domain?

Then I remembered, I have (at least for a couple more hours) two preteen daughters. My horrifying experience was caused by a shared Spotify license. Thus, while I was alone in my car, the spectre of my daughter grabbed control of the radio. Hanging my head in defeat, I turned off the radio.

Preteen nonsense.

As far as the actual music goes, I suppose the pop music my daughters listen to is not that much different to the bluegrassy folk that I enjoy. It tells a story in a whiny tone with a quick dancing beat. Just instead of a banjo, they use a synth.

I’ve heard that studies say our musical discovery ends psychologically around the age of 24, with our formational musical taste established in the 16-18 years. For me, that would bring in Nickel Creek, Third Eye Blind, Green Day, Yellowcard, and others into the mix (with maybe a pinch of Weird Al).

It’s a horrifying thought when I realize that in thirty years, my daughters will think back on this KPop as their reminiscent music. Or that at one time, my parents rolled their eyes at my alternative rock.

It’s strange how we forget that we also listened to preteen nonsense.

In parenting, we grow so afraid for our kids. We fear their influences, we fear the failures, we fear the fear. The world we see as fast-moving and frightening is the same world that will make their foundational memories. This generation will never know what it means that most cameras were separate from their phones. This generation will never know that the internet used to dial in. This generation will never know Starter jackets, or Dunkaroos, or Urkel. We’re sad because we think our kids will never know.

But what if they do?

What if they do know the anxiety and anticipation of a conversation with a person they like? What if they do know the impatience of sharing facilities with family? What if they do know that creativity and memory are excellent partners? What if they do worry about what their future will look like? What if they do know their form of style, of snack, or of comedy?

We get so lost in the forms that we lose the spirit.

Maybe instead of fretting on all the things that are different from our experience we should endeavor to learn where the connections are. We can be effective in impacting lives as we make an effort to understand and show the grace to learn. The same gospel that saves us is effective for this generation, even if the medium by which they experience it is different.

Jon Donne famously wrote in his Devotions upon Emergent Occasions, “send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.” In his time, the bell range on the occasion of a death. The purpose of the devotion was to remind the reader that all of us are connected, and there is no tragedy in life that happens to another that does not impact us as well. We should understand that while our experience of the world is so different from those of our children in form, the spirit is the same. The anxiety, the insecurity, the longing, the dreaming, the loving.

Do not send for whom the instagram notification tolls, it tolls for thee.

While my daughter will enter her teenage years tomorrow, I continue in my midlife crisis. And who knows what kind of midlife nonsense I’ll get up to.

In the moments where we fear, where we struggle to understand, maybe we just need to remember our preteen nonsense. Maybe we need to remember that while we were still preteens, Christ died for us.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

…but be filled by the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord in your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ. Ephesians 5:18b-21

A few weeks ago when Central Texas was receiving torrential rains that were filling up our lakes, a man on Facebook named Tom Miller wrote the following quote:

“Living alongside a river means respecting its strength.”

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This is certainly true by our central Texas rivers like the Guadalupe, the Blanco, and the Pedernales. Close to dry for much of the year, all it takes is a significant downpour in an area to raise a flash flood. I’ve seen rivers that were barely a trickle roaring brown like chocolate milk sending millions of gallons of water downstream.

That same gentle droplet of water that cools on a hot day joins with a couple trillion friends to rend disaster in the land.

Some choose to place their homes by the rivers. The danger is certainly there, but I love the wisdom that I’ve seen in many of those builders. They raise their homes up above the potential floodplain, strengthen the foundations, chart a way out. These homes usually will survive the deluge. They prepare against the tide. Others that drop foundationless homes on ground level on 500 year floodplain often find much less success.

Living alongside a river means respecting its strength.

It causes me to think on the aspect of passing time and ministry. For those ministering in the church there is an unsettling reality of temporality. According to Thom Rainer in 2023 the average tenure of a minister at a church is 3.5 years.

Life flows along at churches, and ministers keep hopping out of the stream. There are a myriad of reasons for this. In comparison over 60 percent of churchgoers remain a part of their congregation for over ten years. While ministers don’t even stay put for a full high schooler’s tenure, members of the church see the transition from rotary phones to cell phones.

Living alongside a river means respecting its strength.

In ministry we face many strong emotional currents. We walk with our people in marriage, in funerals, in loss of jobs, in celebrations of births, in achievements, in disappointments, in conflict, in anxiety, in joy.

It is as though we as ministers approach a river that constantly changes, with dry seasons and flood. Most ministers build temporary homes, assuming that they’ll be fine so long as the creek doesn’t rise.

But it’s amazing how frequent a 500 year flood can be.

This temporal fleeting nature of ministers creates distrust and dismissal among members of churches, and weakens the ability of the shepherd to lead the flock. Ministers come in with many hopes and dreams for the church, but the members are waiting to see what happens when the floodwaters rise.

On a personal note: I grew up within a half hour drive of a large seminary. As a result, in my time in Student Ministry I had five different Youth Ministers. Any time I wanted to invest relationally in a minister, the moment was fleeting. And to the relative perception of a teenager, even if a person stayed for a year and a half, it was a significant loss. I was glad for the sacrificial time poured into me by ministers like Kevin Covington and Steve Alberts. But all the same, for one reason or another our church did not give a long term home for youth ministers.

But when we build wisely, we see the beauty of the river.

A few years ago, when attending my grandparents 70th anniversary (yeah their love was a wonder) we stayed at a house beside the Ouachita River. It had been tremendously rainy, so we were a bit nervous about the potential of flood.

But the house was built up on high stilts, so while the river raged below, I was at peace with a cup of coffee watching the rush and might.

This month I will do three weddings for young people that I’ve known at our church for over a decade, as well as the funeral for a dear saint that I’ve known for a decade. I was witness to the flows and the growing in these lives, as well as difficulty. Now in this phase, rather than feeling swept away by time, I get to contemplate the goodness of God in creating new things through these marriages and in testifying to the resurrection through the burial of the saints.

When I began at my church at age 26, I had no comprehension of the arc of this life. I had no comprehension of the beauty of birth, the sting of death, the thrill of baptism, the grind of ministry. I could not even begin to understand the fullness of life.

But committing to minister for the long term changed my life. Committing to cultivate and grow made all the difference. And I hope it made a difference to the wonderful people I’ve had the privilege to serve.

As you read this article today, this is the challenge. I struggle as much as anyone in wondering what it would be like in other contexts, but I also love the beauty of this river God has placed me beside. You have the opportunity to invest for the long run.

In a world scarred by a fear of commitment and a slough of broken promises, what would it look like for you to trust and commit to your church family? What would it look like to consider what goodness God intends to grow through your investment? If you are a minister, what if God is calling you to stay?

And beyond the elements of church life, what keeps you from committing to opportunities and relationships and callings? What if God has laid out a way before you, and all you need to do to enter the current is to step in?

Living beside a river means respecting its strength.

Living in the ministry God gives us means respecting his strength and admiring his beauty.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

(Typed on my cell phone as I forgot my computer this weekend…lol)

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬ ‭

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As our staff have been reading through the Bible in a Year, there have been some difficult pieces to work through. Psalm 119 in a day is a chunk. And the Ezekiel passages seem to last forever. And now on Week 32, we begin the Minor Prophets.

Now to be fair, I do love reading the Minor Prophets (books Hosea through Malachi). They give a more “on the ground” spiritual view of what Israel and Judah are going through moving into the exile and beyond. They don’t pull punches, but speak some pretty sharp and beautiful truths. And as literature, there is tremendously beautiful use of figurative language and metaphor throughout.

Many tend to swerve away at reading them because of the sharpness of tone and sometimes the difficulty of the language. But the Minor Prophets really swing our hearts and minds from the history of the Old Testament to the promise of the New.

One thing occurred to me today that I hadn’t thought about before, and I wanted to experiment with it in this post. I’ve never really grouped together the last words of each of the Minor Prophet books. As prophetic texts, there ought to be a progression there that might be helpful especially as we seek the Messiah. While prophecy is not fortune-telling, it does give a picture of who Israel is to look for.

So below, follow the journey as I work through the last verse of each of the Minor Prophets, and see the story of the hearts of God’s people.

Hosea 14:9…Whoever is wise, let him understand these things; whoever is discerning, let him know them; for the ways of the lord are right, and the upright walk in them, but transgressors stumble in them.

Joel 3:20-21…"But Judah shall be inhabited forever, and Jerusalem to all generations. I will avenge their blood I have not avenged, for the Lord dwells in Zion.”

Amos 9:14-15… “I will restore the fortunes of my people Israel, and they shall rebuild ruined cities and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and drink their wine, and they shall make gardens and eat their fruit. I will plant them on their land, and they shall never again be uprooted out of the land I have given them,” says the Lord your God.

Obadiah 21…Saviors shall go up to Mount Zion to rule Mount Esau, and the kingdom shall be the Lord’s.

Jonah 4:11… “And should I not pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?”

Micah 7:19-20… He will again have passion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. You will show faithfulness to Jacob and steadfast love to Abraham, as you have sworn to our fathers from days of old.

Nahum 3:18-19… Your shepherds are asleep, O king of Assyria; your nobles slumber. Your people are scattered on the mountain with none to gather them. All who hear the news about you clap their hands over you. For upon whom has not come your unceasing evil?

Habakkuk 3:19… God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the the deer’s; he makes tread on my high places. [To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments]

Zephaniah 3:20… “At that time I will bring you in, at the time when I gather you together; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes,” says the Lord.

Haggai 2:23… “On that day,” declares the Lord of hosts, “I will take you, O Zerubbabel my servant, son of Shealtiel,” declares the Lord, “and make you like a signet ring, for I have chosen you,” declares the Lord of hosts.

Zechariah 14:21… And every pot in Jerusalem and Judah shall be holy to the Lord of hosts, so that all who sacrifice may come and take of them and boil the meat of the sacrifice in them And there shall no longer be a trader in the house of the Lord of hosts on that day.

Malachi 4:5-6… “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes. And he will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction.”

In these last words, I see promises, hopes, and warnings. I see a people restored and prime with the hope of expectation. While their books close, we see the new one opening.

Israel was a people in defiance and sin. They traveled through consequence and devastation to be restored by the Lord, their beloved.

Today many are devastated and fall to their knees. That same promise of restoration in the gospel of Jesus Christ is open. The promise isn’t for the perfect or for the untroubled. It rings out to all who hunger and thirst for hope.

Because in the end if our hearts are open for it, God’s last word is grace.

Signs and Wonders, y’all.

And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts, knowing this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture comes from someone’s own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit. 1 Peter 1:19-21

6:30 AM.

Babbling rolls out of my youngest’s room as he greets the day. It’s early, but that doesn’t hold him back from talking at the top of his voice.

As I wrench myself from my bed, I stumble into his room and pop on the light switch. He responds with a delighted exclamation.

As I take care of a diaper (I’ll spare you the details), I get the same question from him over and over. “What’s that daddy?”

This game of pointing all over the room and asking me what things are is an every morning occurrence. In my sleep addled brain, sometimes I have no idea what he’s talking about. The temptation is to poke my head into his room and tell him, “Bud, it’s early. Go back to sleep.” But, of course I patiently answer his questions one by one as he asks them.

“What’s that daddy?” “That’s a fire truck.”

Toddlers are a never-ending fount of questions. They feel no shyness at declaring their lack of knowledge and in pursuing understanding. Beyond that, in my boy there is a tremendous amount of trust. If Dad says that’s a dinosaur or a letter “M,” than that is what they are. No guile in a kid.

I marvel that the Lord entrusts to a broken vessel like me to speak truth to my children. And the questions are not always easy. The older they get, the more difficult the questions become. Questions on death, on reproduction, on the nature of pain. This inquisitiveness interweaves our humanity.

And while I’m not always correct on my answers, my love for my kids calls for me to go the extra mile. I research, I find answers. And sometimes when it comes to the great mysteries beyond what Scripture tells us, I lay down my pride and let them know, “I don’t know, but the Lord does.”

“What’s that daddy?” “That’s a green shirt.”

I marvel that God does this with us. I can imagine in the heavens the joy he has when we turn our eyes to him in amazement at the things he has done and ask him, “What is that?” I can imagine the grief he feels when we face the pain that sin has wrought in our world and ask through tears, “Why God?” I can imagine the exuberance when we ask him, “What must I do to be saved?”

When my son asks questions of me, they are not complex. They land on identity and understanding the big, new world around him. When I fall into the ruts in my life of “same-old, same-old,” I remember part of that spark of inquisition. What grace that we get to discover a world we didn’t create! What fulfillment when we find new answers!

“What’s that daddy?” “That’s a bird.”

When we walk through seasons of life that gather dust in our minds, when we grow frustrated or bored in our faith, maybe our problem isn’t that we understand everything. We think because we hold in our hand more information and data than was contained in the Great Library in Alexandria, we think because we are more connected than any generation in the history of humanity, we think because our perspective usually stops at the boundaries of our own skulls, that we know everything and how everything will go.

Maybe our problem is that we’ve stopped wondering. Maybe our problem is that in our craven need for control we’ve created a black and white environment around ourselves that we don’t have to struggle to understand.

Maybe we’re the problem.

“What’s that daddy?” “That’s a baseball.”

It’s too long to quote here, but I’d encourage you to check out Job 38-41. In this passage, the Lord confronts Job’s accusations against his justice by calling him to account for all the varied mysteries of the universe.

And while our materialistic schematics can account for much of the mechanics that happen from microbiology to astrophysics, there is always the frontier of why. The realm of the divine, the place of wisdom. Because the hardest answers for us are God’s questions. “Where were you when…” “Have you commanded the morning?” “Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades?”

One of the most memorable quotes from the Greek philosopher Socrates was, “I know that I know nothing.” If one of the greatest minds of humanity can admit a limit of knowing, why should we think because we have Wikipedia and Chat GPT that we understand the Mind of God?

“What’s that daddy?” “That’s thunder.”

So as my son settles into his morning routine of waffles and Bubble Guppies, singing songs and learning about letters and numbers and sea creatures, I groggily head back upstairs to start my day.

But those questions echo in my mind across the day, across phone calls and meetings and calendars. They echo in their trust and their inquiry. They echo in their wonder.

And I find myself saying the same thing to our Father in heaven,

“What’s that, Father?” “Son, that’s grace.”

Signs and wonders, y’all.

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding.
⁵ Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
Or who stretched the line upon it?
⁶ On what were its bases sunk,
or who laid its cornerstone,
⁷ when the morning stars sang together
and all the sons of God shouted for joy? Job 38:4-7

This past Sunday I had the privilege of preaching at Austin Baptist Church. If you missed it, you can catch the video here:

Usually in preparing to preach I have my illustrations and points laid out long in advance. I like order and process as I’m prepping.

This time in approaching the morning of my sermon, I still had some unease on one of the illustrations I had chosen. To that point, I had already carved off over a page of content from the sermon because it was running super long. Usually I’m not that unsettled going into the morning of preaching.

When I walked into my office, I had an unexpected (and unwelcome) visitor: a relatively large wasp.

On Thursday I had noticed the orangish, evil-looking bug hanging out on the window of my office. I hate wasps (who doesn’t?), and also am unreasonably nervous about them. Growing up with a pool, they were a constant nuisance and threat to a great afternoon. Now, in my family I’m the designated wasp killer so I should be used to it, but when I encounter one in an enclosed space it makes me pretty jumpy.

So seeing that jerk of a flying bug hanging out on my window, I decided to leave it be. I figured it would die a (deserved) long and protracted death by dehydration or whatever, so I closed my office and walked away.

But coming in on Sunday and having forgotten that the wasp was there, I found him hanging out on my desk.

Yeck.

So now I had a conundrum: I’m in my church clothes and really didn’t want to get stung, but also needed to use my desk. By the grace of God, this is when I noticed Grudem’s Bible Doctrine sitting to the side. I grabbed the book and thoughtfully considered what theological argument one would use against an insect. And then I formulated a 5 point argument from the book of Joel that would render me unafraid and ready to go about my day, leaving the wasp to his own business.

Nope.

Instead of that nonsense, I put Bible Doctrine to use and slammed that horrible bug with some practical theology.

This is a silly story, but it provided an excellent illustration for my sermon that day. Probably the only time I’ve ever thanked God for letting a wasp get into my office.

On Sunday as we talked about simple obedience and shrewd wisdom in the life of Paul, I was struck (pun intended) by the wasp. So often in our lives we allow spiritual issues to crop up. Because we are nervous about them and there is a potential for pain or discomfort, we tend to just let them be. We hope that the issue will die on its own without us having to risk anything.

Or feeling that there is something that we should do to handle the situation, we overspiritualize it. Instead of confronting a person who is abusing and mistreating others, we say that we’re just “turning the other cheek.” Instead of addressing and resolving a broken relationship, we make the decision to “as far as it goes with us, living at peace with everybody.” Instead of addressing sin issues that are lodged in our hearts, we decide to “live and let live.” (That last one is not the Bible btw.)

But a living wasp is a living problem. A living sin issue or broken relationship is a living problem. Better to have a punchdrunk wasp in your office than to have unresolved sin sitting in your heart.

Sometimes Christlike wisdom means sending a wasp to whatever afterlife God has determined with a theology book. Sometimes God doesn’t want you to reason or scheme or ignore your way through a problem, but he wants you to kill it.

Those who struggle with people-pleasing really struggle with killing the wasps in their lives. They are afraid of pain or how a person will respond if they rightly push back. But in allowing others to practice sin upon them, they wind up broken and pushed down. If we are “more than conquerors” through him who loved us, we shouldn’t be afraid at times to bring the book down.

So on a Sunday morning I was set to preach, the Lord taught my heart courage as my practical theology closed the book on that wasp.

Maybe Jesus is ready to close the book on some of the wasps in your life.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

¹⁶ “Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. ¹⁷ Beware of men, for they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues, ¹⁸ and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles. ¹⁹ When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. ²⁰ For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Matthew 10:16-20

I don’t like the term post-Christian.

I’ve studied the different theories of ideology, particularly as I’ve been interested in what happens after postmodernism. (In fact I’ve written an entire unpublished manuscript on the matter…maybe it’ll come out one day.) But often in my study of all the -isms (foundationalism, post-structuralism modernism, metamodernism, etc.), I run across the term post-Christian.

“Post-Christian” is used often by demographers and those trying to define the spiritual climate of the US today. And in some ways, the term works. Culturally the church holds less power and influence than it used to. While there have been some recoveries of number in the past decade with the rise of Gen Z and their curve toward self-discovery, still the percentage of the population identifying as Christian has declined.

But therein lies my problem with the word “post-Christian.” There is an inherent miscalibration of what it means to be a follower of the Way, a disciple of Jesus. Perhaps believers were never meant to control the culture.

There is an interesting quote from John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist denomination:

“I fear, wherever riches have increased, (exceeding few are the exceptions,) the essence of religion, the mind that was in Christ, has decreased in the same proportion. Therefore, I do not see how it is possible, in the nature of things, for any revival of true religion to continue long. For religion must necessarily produce both industry and frugality; and these cannot but produce riches. But as riches increase, so will pride, anger, and love of the world in all its branches.”

It is an amazing study to watch how spiritual revival almost certainly leads to cultural prosperity, but then how that prosperity leads a culture to ruin. Wesley is right that right practice of faith will produce good integrity, but the worship of the fruits (and hoarding) of that integrity becomes sin.

These things began coming to mind to me today while I was reading in the book of Daniel in the Bible. We all love the miracles of the stories: the survival through the flaming furnace, the interpretation of dreams, the lion’s den, and on. It is one of the best perspectives on Christian integrity confronting a pagan culture.

But there’s always been something about the book of Daniel that has nagged at me. If all these things happened to Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Darius, and the like, why didn’t worship of Yahweh take over the Babylonian Empire and then the Persian Empire after it? It would seem logical that with such an amazing testimony of the miraculous that there would be a huge revival and that everyone would begin worshiping the God of Israel. That didn’t happen.

Following are some observations I have from Daniel and his friends’ interactions with a deeply pagan culture and how we can apply some of those concepts into our lives in the 2020s.

Integrity for Daniel and his friends wasn’t about the outcome

Daniel and his friends directly contradict and defy the governing authority multiple times. This isn’t whimsical defiance or a Les Miserables bloom of libertarian youth, but rather a refusal to bend their spiritual integrity to pagan practice. They knew that the Lord had called them to be a people set apart.

Daniel and his friends had all due respect for the governing authorities. But when it crossed over to violating their spiritual belief and practice, they stood firm. This in itself is remarkable, but then consider their perspective on the situation:

“Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered and said to the king, ‘O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you on this matter. If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand O King. But if not, be it known to you, O King, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.” Daniel 3:16-18

The commitment of these men to serve God and lay their faith upon him was not contingent on him pulling them from the fire.

Wow.

So much of our activity, devotion, and passion in this world is devoted to seeking positive outcomes for ourselves. And when we don’t get the things we want or disappointment overwhelms us, we doubt in the Lord’s goodness or capacity to intervene.

In a pagan culture, believers cannot and should not base the quality of their devotion on expectation of material gain. We read every story in Scripture from the perspective of those that already know the end. But note this: the heroes of the Bible did not have an absolutely clear vision of what would happen to them. They had the promises of God to stand on, for this life and the next, and everything else was submissive to those promises for them. Hebrews 11 gives a pretty clear picture of this Hall of Faith.

Do you expect that when you encounter and conflict with a pagan culture that you’ll receive a reward in this life? Where is the line between faith and holding a bill up to God for him to buy for us?

Integrity did not depend upon the acceptance by the pagans

Again, we face expectations of growth culture when we consider the church. After all, to have a successful business, you can’t just make money. You have to continually grow the revenue, grow the business without ceasing. The sky’s the limit. Of course, until it’s not.

The church doesn’t quite work the same way. Growth is essential and important, but the percentage does not matter as much. It makes me crazy how demographics will put out a bunch of random percentages of belief across our country. In a way it’s helpful, but in another way these stats present that problem of unqualified growth and give it to the church.

I’m a fan of metrics as much as the next person, but I also recognize that saying 17% of New Hampshire (made up stat) is evangelical really doesn’t equate to anything but fear and despair for those in Texas who are thousands of miles away. Likewise saying that there are 2 billion Christians on the planet (again, made up stat) is such a large number that it’s hard to really relate to anything real.

If we’re being honest, the stats that really matter are what percentage of my heart is given to Christ or the metrics of how much time I’m willing to give away to serve others in his name. And the percentage of my neighbor’s home that worships Christ should matter more than a national percentage.

But since those stats call us into personal engagement and responsibility, they are less palatable than abstract stats from a distance that enable us to express shock at our world “going to hell in a handbasket.”

For Daniel and his friends, there was naturally growth of responsibility and wealth as they lived with integrity. But I can’t help seeing that when presented with the richest food of Babylon, they chose to stick to the clean foods directed by the Torah. And I can’t help noting that when Belshazzar was willing to make a huge deal of riches and power to Daniel in response to him interpreting the sign of the writing hand, Daniel really seemed that he couldn’t care less. He cared more about speaking the truth of God and calling the Babylonians to repentance.

For those who are Christian leaders, your perspective should be less like a rising corporate star and more like the servants of Luke 17:10, ¹⁰ So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’”

The point is that our integrity and obedience in following the Way must not depend on secular metrics of success. They are helpful tools, but terrible idols.

Integrity cares about the heart of the individual

Throughout the book of Daniel, there is not a concern to change the laws of the Persians and the Medes. Clearly law was important to that culture, and the level of Persian bureaucracy is mind-numbing. But when Daniel and his friends turned to serve the Lord (as did Ezekiel and Malachi and Esther), it was never a question of turning Babylon into a Jewish nation. They knew the land was not their home. It’s fitting that Daniel turned toward Jerusalem while praying, remembering the Temple in Daniel 6.

But while they weren’t concerned to change the institutions of the land, they cared about the individuals they interacted with. Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Darius, and Cyrus all are part of the story. And I find it unique that while they were respectful and honoring of their kings, they never groveled to them. They cared about their hearts and their good. Why would Daniel care about Nebuchadnezzar being thrown into insanity or Belshazzar being removed from power? And yet, he still served successfully.

Even when the Babylonians literally changed their names (from Daniel 1), they continued to serve. They looked beyond the good of raising their power and comfort to serving with integrity and for the good of where they were planted. The authorities could change their names, but would never change their identity.

Daniel and his friends didn’t necessarily bring the consequences of their oppression, but they were content to serve well and expectant in the grace of God to abide. Even far from their beloved Jerusalem, they knew the Lord was not far from them.

It reminds me of what the Lord said through Jeremiah in Jeremiah 29:4-7 , ⁴ “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: ⁵ Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. ⁶ Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. ⁷ But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

When we serve amid a pagan culture, we bring honor to God through excellence and through communication of his grace. God didn’t work through Daniel and friends to save the city walls and basic demographics of Babylon; he sent them to proclaim his truth to Nebuchadnezzar to all who would hear and to do good work.

So do we live in a post-Christian culture? As long as there are followers of the Way in any culture, it’ll never be post-Christian. God will continue to abide with his people even in the disaster of oppression and the discomfort of disagreement. And Christ didn’t come to save the Capitol building, but he does have promises that are true for each of the individuals inside if they would only hear.

And what if God will use our days to work his miracles? What if he desires to transform lives in our midst, redeeming that which was broken, wasted, and lost to save? What if he desires to use 100% of your heart to reach 100% of the people you interact with? What if some of the desires for spiritual growth that you crave are only as far away as you’re willing to obey the Word of God?

The Kingdom we should look toward is that kingdom of the already and not yet, the Kingdom of God.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

⁶ Among these [exiles] were Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah of the tribe of Judah. ⁷ And the chief of the eunuchs gave them names: Daniel he called Belteshazzar, Hananiah he called Shadrach, Mishael he called Meshach, and Azariah he called Abednego. But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself… Daniel 1:6-8a

When do you recognize a stop sign?

When I was studying abroad in Poland during college, I found myself flummoxed when I saw the above sign. Was it telling me to stop? Or was it telling me to pay attention? Or was it telling me, “Hey, learn more math!” Not usually a great thing to have to guess at the purpose of a warning sign.

(Dare I say: that’s not a good sign?….Pun intended, as always)

As we drive we look for stop signs. We look for warning signals, for things that can aid us in avoiding mishaps or wrong turns. These signs are everywhere, from exit signs to caution: floor is slippery to Minimum Speed 30 kmh (thanks Canada for that one). We rely on signs to guide us and often to stop us in our daily lives.

How does this work in our spiritual lives? Do we have stop signs to keep us from going out of control?

One of my favorite acronyms to help in the context of guiding in spiritual life is HALT. When we see the signs in our life that say HALT, we know that we are getting into dangerous territory. Written out: hungry, angry, lonely, tired. When signs of these tendencies appear, it’s time for us to check our speed. These are the situations in which temptation to sin is most likely.

So how can we recognize the HALT signs in our lives? Below I walk through each of them with common things to recognize. For each of these there is a practical reasoning and a spiritual reasoning. My hope is that seeing these aspects will help you to know when temptation is ready to spring.

Hungry

This aspect always struck me as odd. How can it be that something as natural as hunger should cause us to be more apt to sin? What temptation is there in being hungry?

For most of us, hunger connects really quickly to wrath or greed. As our body experiences hunger, we become very aware of our basic human needs. And a human with need begins to reach out/lash out for filling. While often we find hunger driving us to food, a person with hunger also will tend to have inhibitions in other areas lowered.

This is especially true when it comes to relational connections. Because hunger causes discomfort in our bodies and an apparent need, we naturally seek out ways to lessen that discomfort. And often, that vent can look like raging out on loved ones or co-workers.

The word “hangry” describes it pretty well.

But beyond that, hunger drives us to soothe and satiate. We seek things to bring comfort, even if those things are not obtained righteously.

When the hungry sign comes up in your environment, it’s a good time to consider the “why” behind your words and interactions and to question whether it’s better to have that interaction after a little snack.

Spiritually, we’re told by Jesus in Matthew 4: “Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

While hunger is a part of our natural being, it is not designed to master us. Hunger reminds us that we have need in our life. In particular it reminds us of our need to trust in the Lord for the things we need. His Word guides us to seek him and his grace while seeking the food we need.

Instead of driving us to satiate and take, hunger reminds us to receive from the Lord.

Angry

This sign usually does not start as anger. Usually disappointment and frustration darken our horizon like an approaching storm. We survey the circumstances of our lives, the things people have said to us, or expectations unmet. Rarely is anger the first emotion through the door of our hearts.

Yet, anger is also a natural process. It is our reaction to things that displease or disappoint us. We have a need to fix things that are wrong. We have a God-given duty to align things that are misaligned.

But when the storm of anger overtakes our horizon, if we are not prepared it will do tremendous damage. It darkens our visage, it uproots our friendships, and worst of all, it justifies other deeds of darkness. It rolls us into addictions and into dividing relationships.

Anger opens the door for wrath, for vengeance, for pettiness. Much like Jonah when faced with a shriveled plant, we justify our sin by relying on our anger. In many ways, our response in this temptation is like a dagger: our anger is the hilt, the sins that follow are the blade. As long as we hold on to the hilt, we are responsible for the damage it does.

How many relationships are ruined by uncontrolled anger? How many opportunities are ruined by impatience? Anger is a pathway to some pretty gnarly sins.

We’re reminded in Ephesians 4:26-27, “Be angry and do not sin: do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.”

The Lord understands that anger is a natural and sometimes a right response to injustice in the world. It is unnatural for a person never to feel anger. And like the analogies above, daggers and storms both serve excellent purposes when rightly used.

But holding on to anger without resolving it brings unnecessary damage. Multitudes have fallen into self-justifying sin because of their anger. Because maybe the anger is the means by which the devil holds you.

As we approach the warning sign of anger, it is a call to slow down and consider how to best tune appropriate reaction. Sometimes a bit of calm can erode strongholds.

Lonely

Out of all these signs, loneliness is the most pitiable. We are currently in a loneliness epidemic. In a post-Covid world, it seems that it is a minority that don’t battle loneliness on a regular basis.

Like all the others, loneliness is a completely natural emotion. The longing for companionship and the sharpening of fellow journeyers in this life is sometimes overwhelming. For a society that has largely digitally isolated themselves, this shadow looms large.

Loneliness as a portal to sin occurs when we begin to believe in our loneliness. Much like anger is a natural reaction to the negative injustices of the world, loneliness is a reaction to that need for companionship. But loneliness takes a turn when it begins to justify the forcible taking of companionship. This is particularly sharp in the arena of pornography, where the person is promised intimacy without a price of commitment.

Much like with hunger, our spirits recognize a need. But instead of waiting and growing resilient through the loneliness, we allow it to pave the way for a mob of ugly things: lust, self-pity, bitterness, resentment. These vehicles demean and diminish us.

One of the first statements of truth that God made about humanity comes from Genesis 2:18, “Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.’”

Loneliness is that recognition of the spiritual ache of separation. In the Garden man was not designed to be an isolated creature; today when society and culture continually pushes us into zones of perpetual loneliness, we feel the unnaturalness. We feel that missing piece of something we were designed to hold, to collaborate with, to disagree with, to joke with, to fit.

It is not wrong to long for relationship amid loneliness. It can be the fuel for the shy to overcome and interact with society. It can bring compassion for those who struggle. But loneliness leads us into temptation when we beginning to cherish it and make it part of our identity. In a spiritually sick way, many secretly love their loneliness because it makes them special (or so they think).

God recognized from the very beginning that we are best together.

Tired

Lest we fall into criticism of the other warning signs, this terrible sign rounds the corner and hits all of us. Everyone faces this sign at various points in their lives. In fact, parents reading this may see the sign pop up a limitless amount of times a day.

While tiredness is another result of mankind’s fall in the Garden (note: all the signs are), in our post-Fall world tiredness is not necessarily a bad thing. It can be a sign of the end of good labor. It reminds us that we are mortal, that our days are like the grass. None of us will carry our energy forever.

But then tiredness becomes a lifestyle. It becomes a blaming spot for all of the things we would consider like minor peccadillos in our lives. We justify a host of spiny and unfortunate sins because of tiredness: grouchiness, pettiness, laziness, lust, gluttony, wrath, and on. When tiredness is used like a doorway instead of a warning sign, it becomes the host for many demons.

And this is the horrible thing about tiredness: usually it follows good work. We exert ourselves and hope that we would be renewed and instead find ourselves drained. We remember the days of our youth when we could spend all day on the lake and then jump into a pickup basketball game in the evening. And now we groan as our body aches going from the couch to the fridge.

But much like loneliness, we tend to make tiredness a merit badge: it’s a sign we’re big and important. We’re busy all the time serving everybody else, so why don’t I deserve to take some liberties for myself. I’m always responsible, shouldn’t someone else be too?

Tiredness warns us that we need rhythms of rest in our lives. Not rhythms of binging tv shows or video games or reels to escape our reality. Ironically, that behavior brings the bitter brother of tiredness: depression.

Spiritually, tiredness is designed to push us toward our need: And Jesus said to them, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” Mark 2:27

Tiredness is a warning sign designed to remind us that we are not God. We are limited and are at our basis creatures of need. We desire to labor like the Lord, and also we have to be reminded to rest well like the Lord did on the 7th day of Creation.

When we find ourselves in the times of rhythm of rest, tiredness tells us to find the things that refresh and fulfill us. Real rest builds up. It calls an end to the cycles of pain and labor, to renew. It’s a reminder to put down the device, to stop the striving, and understand our moral limitation.

And ironically, such rest teaches us to value our time. It recognizes that our rest is a limited resource and is a gracious gift of God. When we cherish our time of rest, we redeem it.

HALT

I suppose you caught the pattern in this study. These are stop signs, warning signs that you are running out of road and need to proceed carefully.

Minivans are great at bringing humility.

The lack of horsepower and the abiding Goldfish dust and used sticky candy wrappers are part of this mortification of the pride of man, but maybe the biggest downer is the width of the vehicle.

Once I was driving my family in our noble minivan down a road that had a (very) narrow turn lane. There was a yellow warning sign which I definitely paid attention to (yeah right), but much to my chagrin as I dodged around the other cars that were stopped at the light I scraped the side of our car on the guardrail on the side of the road. The warning sign was there to keep the abundant girth of my vehicle from scraping.

Pride meet thy nemesis, the Honda Odyssey.

As you read this article, you may begin to identify where you are seeing these warning signs in your life. Don’t fear. These are natural and important parts of your life. God gives them to us to protect and guide and empower us. [It’s another article to talk about the psychological problems of lacking these signs, but that’s for another day.]

The important thing when you observe the sign is not to speed on with shame, but to slow down and consider the edges you’re drifting toward. What other villains lurk in the shadows of these signs? How can we redirect into a path that leads upward toward maturity in the Lord? How can we pick the things in life that build up and refresh?

So as you examine the warning signs in your life, HALT. As the psalmist instructs us in Psalm 139, “Search me O Lord and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!”

As you allow the Lord to see your heart, to know you, let him lead you in those everlasting ways.

Because sometimes a bad sign is a good sign for us.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

¹² Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall. ¹³ No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 1 Corinthians 10:12-13

The other day I saw an ad that asked the above question. It included an (AI) image of Leonardo working with the phone as he was drawing the Vitruvian man, or some other nonsense.

Note: the likelihood of the Vitruvian man or of Michelangelo’s David getting through the community rules of the various platforms or generative guidelines for AI seem pretty minimal.

Like with all commercials, there is a subliminal meaning applied. The thought process is that brilliant people can do even more brilliant things when using the desired technological product. As a polymath who drew up all sorts of inventions (flying machines, submarines, etc.), what heights could Leonardo reached if he only had artificial intelligence in his hand?

Let’s stretch this further: what about Gustaf Eiffel on TikTok or Marie Curie on Wikipedia or Alfred Nobel on Snapchat or Marco Polo on Google Translate or Christopher Columbus on Google Maps or Rene Descartes on ChatGPT?

I think that the results would be disastrous for humanity.

Can you imagine all these great minds, teeming with curiosity and creativity, even sometimes with wrong assumptions about the nature and physics of the world or of history, being dumbed down into being told what to do by Grok?

I don’t intend to witch hunt AI resources. They are a great and helpful technology. But man, there’s something human and lovely about the grit of human, flawed creativity. Maybe the perfection, the absolute symmetry, isn’t actually perfect.

I think about the sunsets we’ve had recently in Texas. There was a recent Saharan dust cloud that traveled all the way across the Atlantic just to bring us some lovely allergies. And yet, when that dust hits the sunset, we get such beautiful oranges and reds and yellows that will bring tears to your eyes.

Or what about a pearl? A pearl is created when a grain of sand gets into the mouth of an oyster. After surrounding it with it’s protective goo, the oyster creates a beautiful pearl. (Certainly gives a different perspective to a pearl necklace…imagine the classiness of having hardened mollusk mucus around your neck.)

Or think about the best meal you’ve ever eaten. I’ve eaten in many excellent restaurants in my time. And yet, the best meal I ever had was at a Polish friend’s house when they served bigos, a fermented mixture of sauerkraut, sausage, raisins, and a variety of other things cooked over a period of weeks. Bigos looks disgusting, but it is a savory wonder.

Ironically, our biggest flaw is thinking that perfection means sameness or sterility. We think in terms of efficiency, of comfort, and of purity.

The word for “perfect” in Greek is teleios. But it doesn’t just mean perfect: it also includes the meaning of complete in purpose or finished. The Greek conception of perfect includes time and beauty and purpose. It doesn’t connect to comfort or ease or sterility.

What if the purpose of our humanity was less about the quantity of AI slop we can produce, and more about partnering with God in the act of creation?

I wrote about this in an earlier article, but I am convinced that one of the hallmarks of being created in the image of God is creativity. It is the nature that God gives us minds to create things, ideas, and emotions, and then to make those things occur where they were not before.

AI is a counterfeit creativity because it never makes anything from nothing. It only takes existing open source data and compiles it and regurgitates it. Like a kid taking red playdough and blue playdough to make purple playdough, AI doesn’t create.

One last thought: the word “workmanship” is core to my life. In Ephesians 2:8-10, Paul lays out a foundation of our expectation of coming to salvation in Christ. In verse 10, he says, “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” That word “workmanship” is poieo, or “thing that is made.”

Its Greek form lends itself to become the English word “poem.”

So when we consider the purpose of our lives in grace, we are God’s workmanship, his poetry to the world. Poetry takes a concept of beauty from the mind and creates beauty and emotion in the minds of others.

God doesn’t desire our perfection as we conceive of it. God wants to express his love and creativity through us. We express God’s mind of beauty and creativity to our world.

So, what would it be like if Leonardo da Vinci used AI? Terrible, tasteless, sterile, dumb. Slop.

What stops you from expressing the beauty in the mind of God today to those around you? Even though it flows from incomplete vessels, we express our confidence through the image of a perfect God.

Those of you in whom God’s Spirit dwells, you are God’s poetry to the world. Let’s create something.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. Genesis 1:27

I have enjoyed soccer for a long time. Back in the early 2000s when I came to recognize that soccer wasn’t just a “socialist plot to undermine capitalist authority” (quote from my dad), I came to love the way a soccer game unfolded.

For reference, I am a follower/fan of Arsenal FC in London (Go Gunners…above photo from 2006) and I primarily root on the international stage for the Netherlands (Oranje!) and Spain. I do love the US Men’s National Team, but my expectation of them to actually win is pretty low. (And the above photograph of that cool guy serves as proof of my fandom.)

While the flow of the game, the strategic interplay, and the quickening excitement of a goal are all wonderful in a soccer match, it’s something else to watch the crowd. Whether it’s West Ham singing “Forever Blowing Bubbles” or Man City (ugh…the worst) singing “Blue Moon” or even Liverpool singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” it is incredible to see a group of people pull so hard together toward one purpose.

Even for lowly Austin FC, it is a sight to behold at one of their matches as green smoke rises from the fan section and they dance and sing Listo Verde over and over again.

This World Cup held something new for me that I hadn’t seen before. Particularly the enthusiasm and electricity of the Norwegian fan base. Behind Erling Haaland (Man City star…ugh…the worst) and Martin Odegaard (Arsenal stalwart…the best), you’ve probably seen their electric chant.

They will pull out a drum and one person will hit a two strike beat. The crowd either squats or sits in rows. After the drumbeat, they all shout together [boom, boom] Rø! [boom, boom] Rø! [boom, boom] Rø!

It is awe-inspiring to watch not just players and soccer fans do this, but children’s schools and Norwegian Parliament and flash mobs in Times Square, all shouting Rø! Rø! Rø! It’s simple. It’s strong. It’s clear. It’s powerful.

One is transported back to 800s AD England, as that chant rolled over waves and boats full of marauders approached for war. You hear the fear, the organization, the power, the meaning. Rø! Rø! Rø! It is incredible.

And in my mind’s eye (or ear I suppose), I think of another military force, advancing in glory and might, terrible to behold, wondrous to hear: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” In Greek: Doxa! Doxa! Doxa! (Luke 2:14).

I hear the earth moving, thundering proclamation of the angels and creatures that surround the throne of God, singing forever to one another, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts; the whole earth is filled with his glory!” In Hebrew: Kadosh! Kadosh! Kadosh! (Isaiah 6:3)

I hear a thousand teenagers singing, shouting, laughing, praising, lifting up their hands with abandon and joy, shaking the walls of the place, singing over and over, “All Hail King Jesus! All Hail the Lord of Heaven and Earth! All Hail King Jesus, All Hail the Savior of the World!” Savior! Savior! Savior!

I hear a gathering of thousands of pastors singing acapella in a tall bricked sanctuary in Nashville with basso profundo, with solemnity and gravitas, with confidence and the power of stepping forward, “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow. Praise Him All Ye Creatures Here Below. Praise Him Above Ye Heavenly Hosts. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.” Praise! Praise! Praise!

I hear the whispered pleas in an intensive care unit of a parent hoping, praying, for a miracle, to see Jesus’s signs and wonders performed in the life of a sleeping one, accompanied only by the beeps of heart monitors. “Waymaker, Miracle Worker, Promise Keeper, Light in the Darkness, That is Who You Are.” Waymaker, Waymaker, Waymaker.

Rø! Rø! Rø!

Friends, we were designed to sing together.

We are designed to lift up our voices as a body, to align the beats of our hearts, to lift hands together toward the heavens. It’s not without purpose that when we read in the Bible of the people of God worshiping, there is usually the use of plural: “They sang,” “they prayed,” “they mourned,” “they praised.” There is tremendous power when a host of people join together to praise the Lord together, with one heart and one mind.

It’s quite a different feel from the individualized crowing of the mob. The disorganized chaos draws attention away from above, away from the wonders God has worked, to point to where we feel aggrieved.

Friends, we were designed to fight together.

Don’t miss that often in Scripture when the people raised their voices together, it was in a military context. From calling down the walls of Jericho to the singing of the saints in the book of Revelation, the raised voices of the assembly impact the world. They press forward the Kingdom both here and in the heavens. In the role of spiritual warfare, we sing/shout like those of a military choir, praising our conquering king. For we are more than conquerers in him.

Friends, we were designed to work together.

One of the realities of large group singing is the coordination of action. The team of rowers needs to work together to not only maintain speed, but also to maintain effective trajectory. If one side rows slower than the other, the boat looks like a cat chasing his own tail. You’re moving and acting, but you’re not going anywhere.

The Body of Christ is designed to row together so that we can effectively advance his Kingdom. We may have a desire to go at a different pace or in a different method, but trusting the Captain and his Word, we row to the beat he sets for us. His rhythm may sound different ways to different circumstances, but the truth of the rhythm remains the same. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:19-20

Go, go, go.

With you, with you, with you.

Who do you row with, friend? What beat do you row to? Do you find your life going in circles, retreading the same water, looking for a rhythm? I challenge you today, find a faith family to row with. Find a group of those who take Jesus Christ at his Word, and begin rowing with them. Don’t worry as much about your personal preference or opinion, and seek the rhythm that is beyond you. Find your place in the boat.

When we know the captain, we grow strong.

Rø. Rø. Rø.

Go, go, go.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

“And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Ephesians 5:18-21

A couple of weeks ago, I saw an ad for a product called Cometeer. It’s flash-frozen coffee concentrate. The premise of the coffee is that they freeze it at maximum flavor.

Now normally I would’ve scooted right on by the ad, but then I saw the above graphic. Connecting to the World Cup hype, they created a coffee bracket in which you could taste test sourced coffees from all over the world. The bracket would lead to a winner that would be declared the champion.

Y’all…coffee, a bracket competition, and trying things from all over the world?

As much of a skeptic and spendthrift that I am, I was sold. I bought the product and ran the bracket. It was wonderful: an expense that I don’t regret at all.

[Note: my winner was “Winslow” Brazil, with second going to “Hachi” Panama….last place was Switzerland decaf because I refuse to enjoy decaf coffee]

If you’ve read my writing before, you’ll know that I talk about coffee relatively often. In fact, in teaching a Bible Study this week I made the statement that anything can be an idol…even a coffee mug.

Which was a bit telling.

But I really like coffee, and thus I talk about it to an annoying extent. I have become the coffee guy at the office and anytime that anyone mentions anything about coffee, I explode with about a million questions/suggestions/conspiracy theories, etc. Because of my love of the taste of coffee, I overflow about it.

Pun intended.

It gets me thinking on the topic of overflow. In our Christian lives, we often talk about how we feel “filled” by the Spirit or that we need to “refill” our tanks. We talk about being dry in our faith. We talk about “pouring ourselves out.”

It’s interesting to me that with regard to a topic that is immaterial like faith that we so often use terms of scarcity to describe it. What would it mean to actually be full of faith? What line is contentment achieved? How do we stop it from evaporating?

There’s a miracle here when it comes to faith, because God doesn’t work from a standpoint of scarcity or fullness. The biblical expectation for the lives of believers is not that they’ll reach fulfillment. The biblical explanation is overflow.

“If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” John 7:37-38

There is a miracle here. Our physical world does not allow for something to be created from nothing. This is why we are so scared about having a lack or grow concerned at being full enough. Where will the supply come from? How can we trust that we’ll have enough?

Maybe it isn’t up to you to fill yourself.

When I express my love and interest in coffee, I don’t worry about running out of that enthusiasm. It doesn’t come from a place of scarcity, but out of (misplaced) love.

When it comes to our expression of faith and serving others in that faith, our problem isn’t really having used up all our faith. Our problem is disconnection from the Source. Much like our material goods in this world, we were never designed to hoard faith like a limited resource. Faith (like all life) wants to flow.

I think about it from the context of a coffee carafe that I have. It’s a Chemex, and I use it because I have it, not because I’m especially bougie. (I’m too strange to be considered a hipster.) Anyway, a few times when I’ve made coffee in it I haven’t been able to finish the whole carafe and thus left the coffee in there over night (or over a couple of days). My thought is, “Why waste perfectly good coffee?”

But when I finally come back around to that coffee, there is usually a staleness to it. It doesn’t taste very good anymore; in fact, inactivity and lack of movement has substantially emphasized its bitterness. Instead of trusting that I could make another perfectly good batch of coffee later, I cling to the dregs and somehow am disappointed by the result.

I find that Christians that don’t move in their faith share that same kind of bitterness.

When we as believers sit on the life-giving faith and Spirit that the Lord has given and hoard up the treasures of truth and lovingkindness that we are provided, we become incredibly stale and bitter. We think that by focusing in on maintaining what we have that we can avoid loss. But faith was never intended to stop with us, but to flow like a neverending river. When we hold on to what we have and never focus on letting it flow to others, the savor of our faith starts to taste like the dregs.

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.” Matthew 5:13

You were never intended to hoard the benefits and good feelings of your faith. Believers are excellent vessels; we are terrible storage containers. Our outlook, our flow, shouldn’t look to our ability to hold on to the traditions or past victories that solidify our faith to prove us right or to honor ourselves. Instead, the flow of our faith should go from us, so that grace that we are freely given is in turn freely given to others.

For some reading this, you may be going through a truly dry time spiritually. I don’t want to diminish the difficulty of a time like that. It may feel like moving mountains to serve another person. If we want to flow with the Spirit, what do we do when we feel dry like this?

First, recognize that you’re not alone. At any given time, there are millions of Christians feeling the same way that you do. It is not something unique to one person, but as written by St. John of the Cross, many of us experience a “dark night of the soul.” Understanding and communicating with others who care about dryness is a first step toward reopening the flow.

Also first (as it should happen simultaneously) be very honest with God in your personal prayer life about how you are feeling about the situation. When we read the Psalms, we see time and again that the psalmist expresses times of dryness and lays them at the feet of the Lord. If our flow is dependent upon the Lord as our Source, we need to go to him in prayer and in reading of the Word immediately.

Second, find a way to start pouring out. Even if you only feel like you have a little faith, it is vitally important that you begin finding a way to share. Whether it’s in offering to pray for your waiter or in comforting someone going through a loss by praying with them or just sharing with a family member something the Lord taught you through his Word recently, movement is imperative. This ability to share from what feels like nothing is one of the avenues through which Jesus displays his “signs and wonders” today. We must begin to seek to actually pour out if we desire to overflow.

[I will also note that I find it very rare that a person who frequently shares the gospel with others complains about dryness. It’s amazing how the Lord provides for that kind of flow. If you’re nervous about sharing the gospel, realistically you should just do it to the best of your understanding. It’s not about your cleverness or charm anyway; the Spirit of the Lord is the one that does the work. Make yourself available and watch what happens.]

Lastly, thank God for his providence. Journal about the successes, share about them with friends. Open up about the challenges you face to sharing your faith and commit to growing together to overcome them. Where there is no gratitude, there can be no overflow. Take on a perspective that looks for gratitude for all things. It can change much about your life.

That’s not the whole cycle of overflow for sure, and note that there will be different seasons. But I hope that this directive points you in the right direction. Friend, I really do pray that you’ll be a vessel of truth, justice, mercy, and blessing to those around you. I’m expectant that Jesus will empower you to live in the overflow of faith that he provides.

So grab a cup of coffee with me, and let’s overflow.

Signs and wonders, y’all.

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. Colossians 2:6-7