Growing up on the family farm, near where many of my father’s relatives would come back for burial, many of my early memories revolved around the death of a loved one. Frankly, it made me a little morbid as a kid.

But I deeply resonated with the solemnity of death and the dying process. As I became convinced of a call into Christian ministry, my first act as a pastor was attending the funeral of a church member I had never even met. But I learned how important our finiteness is. Death is a part of life; a part that we spend so much effort, money, and time avoiding, but it is ultimately inescapable. Our mortality something we barely talk about and even more rarely seem to prepare for.

The one thing guaranteed to happen is the thing we least like to consider. Ironic? Foolish? Living in denial?

For the Christian, we live our lives ready to die. Not just in some sense of being ready to meet God, but with a sense of understanding that this world, this life, is temporary. We are pilgrims just traveling through. And therefore we do not lay up treasures in this life, where they rust, decay, or are lost,— but we lay up treasures in heaven, by doing the work of our Lord.

We recognize that everything we have does not truly belong to us and will someday be taken from us. This does not sorrow us, but reminds us rather to steward every thing that God has blessed us with: from our days to our possessions and finances, to our relationships and associations. All of these are gifts from God that He allows us to manage for His glory and our good. And someday, we will cease in our stewardship.

Death is not a defeat for the Christian, for we celebrate the Risen Christ, who overcame death by His own death, and because He lives forever more, so shall we. And so while we so not assume the role of God in determining our days, we also recognize that each day the Lord gives us is one in which He has purpose for us. We long for the restoration of all things by He who said, “Behold, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21).

So our hope, then, the escape from God’s creation, but in His renewed, perfect creation.

We echo the words of Paul in Philippians 1:21, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

What does that mean?

For me it means that should I perish this day, I will gain paradise, the full realization of eternal life. But it also means that of God grants me another day, I will serve Him and seek to live as Christ Jesus would have me, brining honor to His name.

“But Adam,” you ask, “what about your family? Your wife? Your friends and your life?”

Do not misunderstand me. I look forward to heaven, but I’m not planning to go right now.

Now, these are gifts that God has given us, so we seek to live out our days with meaning and purpose, and love, and grace.

Being ready for death is not passive or morbid. It is living each day and moment to the full!

It is recognizing that some things— no, many of the things— that we focus on in life are in the scheme of eternity completely insignificant, and that what really matters is the love we have, the faith we share, and the good we do.

That leaves a legacy greater than the grandest tombstone and better than the best written obituary.

In my work at a funeral and cemetery home, I am honored for the chance to be a part of helping folks navigate difficult decisions and challenging moments. In my work as a minister, I have been blessed to weep with those who weep, laugh, and cry at the deathbed. And for those of us who are followers of Jesus? We do not grieve as those without hope.

For we know that when the last breath is taken and the heart ceases its heavy work, that, dear Christian, is when true life fully begins.

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Grace & Peace,

Adam Will

We recently joined the masses and installed a Ring camera and doorbell. So, no more stealing packages from our front porch, ok?

In all seriousness, we got the camera and doorbell just as much to see which kid was leaving out the front door as we did to see who stepped onto the front porch. I’ve never been one to worry that much about home invasions, but I suppose it gives a little bit more peace of mind, especially with our family.

I was sitting down with my brother for lunch the other day, and he was telling me that in a neighborhood near a friend of his, they had a rash of car break-ins. Something like 200 cars had their windows broken, with the thieves just looking for quick snatch-and-go items like phones or other tech. Surprisingly, they didn’t get his friend’s car.

I told him I was surprised, and not that I have a criminal mind, but that I think it would be so difficult to commit that sort of offense given the widespread use of home security cameras these days. He said that because these cars were in the parking lot and near the street, only one Ring Camera caught an image, and it was too difficult to make out.

Hmmm. So even in the age of mass surveillance, we still have enterprising criminals. Kudos to them, I suppose. Kidding, of course. I’m not anti-surveillance, but I just find it interesting that all these modern security measures, while improving some things and making it easier to catch perpetrators, don’t give us foolproof security. Add in the arguments of freedom vs security—you can never have both total freedom and total security—I don’t know that we can be totally secure.

And at some point in our lives, we must be okay with that.

Quick disclaimer: I am an anxious person. I own that. But it’s funny… I am anxious about many things, but my own personal security or safety has rarely been one of those things. I get nervous about making a dreaded phone call, but sitting beside a rough-looking person wearing a mask and carrying a butcher knife has never bothered me. If I am home alone, I’ll rarely lock the doors and rarely lock my car, unless I am in the city. My wife thinks I am too cavalier about security, and she’s probably right—she usually is.

Which brings me to my scripture reading this morning. Psalm 127. I love this short little Psalm written by Solomon. It’s got two sections, seemingly unrelated. Verses 1 & 2 talk about anxiety, while 3-5 talk about the blessings of children and of family. I suppose you could tie it together about not being anxious about your family, but that’s for another time.

Let’s go back to verses 1-2:

Unless the LORD builds the house,
those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the LORD watches over the city,
the watchman stays awake in vain.

2 It is in vain that you rise up early
and go late to rest;
eating the bread of anxious toil;
for He gives His beloved sleep.

God isn’t shaming hard work here. Throughout the scriptures, God tells people to work and to work hard, giving everything they do their best effort.

But we cannot forget that there is only so much we can do. And ultimately, it comes down to God and His blessing. You can work hard and work yourself up “into a tizzy”, as grandma would say, but that doesn’t guarantee results. There are things beyond your control. But the good news is that there is nothing beyond God’s control.

God isn’t telling you to sleep in and stay up late. I find I am most productive before 9 AM, which stinks because many days I don’t get up before 7. But in all seriousness, I know people who get up early and go to bed late, not because their job description demands in, but because they have to do one more deal, make one more call, and do just one more thing before getting their quality 4 hours of sleep.

Listen, God blesses some folks to be real go-getters. I know some fantastic entrepreneurs who are doing awesome kingdom work. But I also know some work-acholic folks and worry warriors who are losing the battle to stress and chaos because they just can’t trust God.

Which brings me back to the Ring Camera.

No matter how many cameras we install at our house, at some point, Christina and I need to entrust our property, and most especially our family, to the Lord who gave all that we have to us. To take common sense steps to ensure safety, but also at the end of the day to acknowledge that no matter what we do, ultimately our safety and security come from God.

Now’s the part where I need to preach to myself. I may not worry about personal safety and security, but I do worry about finances. I worry about our church, if we’re still growing spiritually and making a difference in our community. I worry about friends and loved ones, if they are following Christ and growing in their relationship with Him. I worry about the future: will I be healthy enough to be active in my wife and kids’ lives? Will my goals and dreams succeed?

I find that I stay awake at night worrying about all these things that are outside of my control, and it’s just as useless to do that as it is to expect a ring camera to catch a criminal outside its range.

Yes, we need to do our part. But our part is only effective when we’re strengthened by the LORD, led by His Spirit, and when we trust Him to do what we can’t do ourselves.

So, do what God has given you to do. Take reasonable precautions. Work hard. Pray. And then? Go to bed. He gives His beloved sleep (Psalm 127:2).

Because even though the watchman must sleep at some point, God doesn’t.

Porchside Update

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last Pastor’s Porch. I didn’t really plan on taking a break, but life gets busy and the words sometimes just don’t come on schedule. My brain and I are having a staff meeting later today to figure that out. But frankly, I’d rather write something to you when I actually have something I think is worth sharing than write just because my calendar says I am supposed to.

Ah, summer is winding down. The kids go back to school in a mere 17 days, so they are doing as many activities and visiting cousins as they can before they start back at school. Hard to believe that I will have a sophomore in high school this year!!

What is one end-of-summer tradition you or your kids always enjoyed? I’d love to get your feedback!

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Well, folks, that’s it for today’s Pastor’s Porch. Thanks for sitting with me for a few minutes. Now go do what God has called you to do, and trust Him with the results.

Grace & Peace,

Adam Will

One of the struggles I’ve always had, and it seems to be getting worse with age, is that I want to know the plan. You know… the plan for the service, the plan for the weekend, the menu before the meal. I want to know what I need to do. I need to psych myself up for certain things, and so I need to know how to prepare, mentally and physically, for what’s coming next. Do I need to pack swim trunks or a heavy coat?

Now maybe you’ve learned the secret to organizing your life down to the microsecond (if so, I’m all ears for tips), but the fact is that God rarely cooperates with our plans. And He certainly doesn’t consult us before some detour takes us off our plotted course. We want clarity about next month, next year. Hey, I’d like some clarity just about tomorrow! But God doesn’t operate that way.

God Rarely Gives the Whole Map

The great irony is that while God doesn’t give us the whole map, He already knows it. He knows our end from before the beginning. Lest we break out into discussions of God’s sovereignty versus free will and mankind’s responsibility, let’s just agree to call it a mystery. God lives outside of time and, in my mind anyway, can know all things without limiting mankind’s choice and responsibilities. But this is not a discussion on free will. It’s about trusting in a God who sees all but seems to reveal little.

Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” This is one of the most beloved scriptures dealing with God’s word. But did you notice what God lights? The whole countryside? The entire journey? Nope. Just the light by my feet, just the next few steps. God will reveal His will for us, but often only in step-sized portions.

Discouragement When We Try to Live Tomorrow Today

The problem is that often you and I aren’t content with that limitation placed on our path. We don’t want nice little lighted pathways. We want a GPS that tells us each turn and how long it will take us to get to each stop along the way. Surely I am not the only one who gets frustrated with not knowing the whole journey.

It causes stress to not know where I am going. If we take a trip and you tell me only a mile at a time where we’re going, or what exit to take, just turn by turn, well, I’m going to have a full-on panic attack. I have to know. Besides raising my blood pressure, this anxiety reveals a lack of trust in the one giving me instructions. It’s one thing to doubt an error-prone navigator, but do we have enough faith to trust God?

Sometimes we ask questions that God hasn’t chosen to answer yet. And instead of asking God what the five-year plan should be, maybe we need to ask, “What has God put in front of me today? What is at my feet right now?”

Ordinary Next Steps

I would say that most of the time, the overwhelming majority of the time, that next step that His light is shining on our path isn’t a dramatic one, but an ordinary step like the thousands we’ve taken before.

But we’re not content with ordinary steps. We want to push the speed limit or skip a few steps ahead. If I can’t know where I’m going, or how I’m getting there, at least let me get there faster, God. But again, God doesn’t work like that. We want a big change, or a big windfall. Something different. What’s the point in just a regular step?

Something that God has been teaching me is that it is those ordinary steps that get us to where God is leading us.

Those regular steps might seem simple, but they are incredibly important. Rarely does God ask us for spectacular faithfulness. More often, He asks us for ordinary faithfulness repeated day after day. Steps like praying, reading some of His word, having a difficult conversation, encouraging someone, going to a worship service… well, they may seem small, but if you fail to take those steps, you’ll miss out on the journey God has for you.

So I have to ask you: What is the next faithful thing that God has placed in front of you today?

No, not the next 10 things you have to do… What is one step that God is calling you to take today? Has He forgotten to be good? Has He led you astray before? Trust God and take that step. And allow Him to take care of the rest.

Porchside Update

The weather has been wonderful here in SE Ohio this past week. We had some hit-and-miss severe weather earlier, but the temperatures have been in the high 70s and low 80s, unusually cool for July. The kids have been taking advantage of the weather by spending much of it outside and in the pool.

At Bethany Church, we’re going through some of the Psalms in our summer series called Songs for the Journey. Sunday, I preached on Psalm 46 and Our Refuge in the Storm. If you’d like to watch it, you can click here.

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And hey, thanks for spending a few minutes with me on the porch today. Whether your road ahead feels clear or uncertain, my prayer is that you’ll know the Lord’s faithfulness one step at a time.

Grace & Peace,

Adam

I don’t know if you have raised kids or not, but it’s a hoot. Christina and I have 5 ranging in age from 2 up to the mid-teens. Not only are they wonderful gifts from God, but they are also the primary way God has been teaching me what it means to follow Him.

The other night I told one of my youngsters not to disturb their mother who was trying to take a relaxing bath after a long day. Said youngster promptly told me “No,” and proceeded to knock on the bathroom door and disturb their mother anyway. Not to give away who it was, allow me to say that they were old enough to know better, and the situation was not so dire that they needed their mother’s attention at that moment.

I’m not gonna lie, I was mad that my kid so flagrantly disobeyed my clear and direct instruction. What made it more frustrating was the attitude of completely dismissing not only my instruction but the seeming dismissal of me. Shortly thereafter, on heading to bed, my child said, “I love you, Dad. Goodnight.”

Man... what do you do with that?

Let’s say you tell one of your kids to go clean their room before dinner and then they look you right in the eye and say, “No.”

Then they spend the rest of the afternoon doing exactly what they want to do. But let’s say that evening they come to you with a homemade card that says, “I love you,” and then they offer to put away the dishes.

That’s a nice gesture. It really is! Just like my kid telling me they loved me and good night.

But it doesn’t erase the fact that they intentionally disobeyed.

So as a parent, which would you rather have? The thoughtful gesture or just simple obedience?

Enter King Saul

Saul was the first anointed King of Israel. You can find his story in the Book of 1^st Samuel. And what a tragic story it is. He started out so well, but then he stopped obeying the Lord. In 1 Samuel 15, the Lord gave Saul clear instructions through the prophet Samuel. God told Saul to completely destroy the Amalekites, a wicked people, and not to take any of their livestock or wealth, but to destroy it all.

So Saul summoned the people of Israel, and they utterly defeated the Amalekites. But Saul and the people spared King Agag of the Amalekites and the best livestock. The only thing they destroyed was that which they did not think was worth keeping. So Saul only partially obeyed what a clear instruction from God was.

The Lord tells Samuel, and Samuel goes to investigate. Saul, instead of confessing to being greedy or disobedient, shifts the blame onto the people. “Well, uh, you see, Samuel, they did this, I had to go along with them.”

When Saul saw Samuel (say that three times fast) wasn’t buying it, he shifted his tactic... “Oh, it’s okay, Samuel. See, these are excellent specimens. We’re going to sacrifice them to the Lord to show Him how much we love Him.” In other words, after making excuses, Saul tried to cover his disobedience with religious activity.

But Samuel and the Lord were having none of it. In 1^st Samuel 15:22, he says:

“Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offering and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of lambs.”

This is something that people miss. Saul wasn’t trying to out-and-out reject God. Rather, he wanted to worship God, just on his own terms. He wanted a relationship with God but only Saul’s way.

We Aren’t Much Different

Not much has changed in 3,000 years since this took place. We tell ourselves, “I’ll volunteer at church,” or “I’ll give a little more in the offering,” or “I’ll listen to worship music on the way to work,” or “I’ll share a Bible verse on social media.”

And all the while, we’re ignoring something that God has made crystal clear.

Whether it’s forgiving someone, reconciling a relationship, sexual integrity, honesty, generosity, loving an enemy, sharing Christ, putting away bitterness... All things that God is pretty direct about... We will make excuses, or even worse, try to replace obedience with religious activity.

It doesn’t work that way. God, just as He did with Saul, sees right through it.

Obedience Isn’t Earning God’s Love

But we also have to be careful here. There’s the ditch of disobedience, but on the other side of the road is the ditch of legalism. Christianity is not about earning God’s approval by behaving well and keeping a bunch of rules. We’re not made right with God by obedience. We are saved by grace (a gift of God) through faith in Jesus Christ.

What I am trying to say is that obedience isn’t the root of salvation. It’s the fruit.

We don’t obey so God will love us. We obey because He already does and wants the best for us.

In John 14:15, Jesus makes it clear, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”

He doesn’t say If you obey me perfectly, then I’ll love you. Nor does He say If you love me, your feelings are enough.

Love is demonstrated through obedience.

Obedience Reveals Trust

So, if we’re not made right with God, why does He care so much about our obedience?

It’s not because He is insecure... Oh no! Bill didn’t obey me. He must not love me. Poppycock.

It’s not because He needs servants. He made all of the universe out of nothing. He can handle what needs to be done.

No. God desires obedience because He knows what will lead to life.

It’s just like with kids. Sometimes kids obey because they understand. Yeah, Dad is right... the stove is hot, and I shouldn’t put my hand on it. And other times they obey simply because they trust Dad. That’s faith right there.

And so there are commands in God’s Word that I don’t always understand completely or right away. There are also commands that my flesh really wants to disregard at times. But I have lived long enough to know that God has never once given me a command that wasn’t ultimately for my good and His glory.

Grace for Failures

The truth is that every one of us has a little Saul in us. We’ve all tried to justify ourselves. We’ve all offered God excuses instead of obedience. We’ve all tried to compensate rebellion with religious activity or grand gestures.

But the Gospel is not “Do Better”.

The Gospel is that Jesus Christ obeyed perfectly where you and I have failed. He offers us forgiveness. He changes us. And by His Spirit, He teaches us to walk in obedience.

If my kids disobey me, I don’t stop loving them. But because I love them, I don’t pretend their disobedience doesn’t matter, either. The same is true of our heavenly Father. He isn’t asking us to earn His love. He is inviting us to respond to it.

After all, to obey is better than sacrifice.

Porchside Update

It has been hot here in Southeastern Ohio the last week. We had a wonderful June with high temps in the 80’s. The kids are enjoying water games, staying cool as they can.

Last weekend was Christina's and my 17th wedding anniversary! Hard to believe it’s been that long! I’m so thankful for her!

It feels good to be getting back into a regular writing rhythm again. Between some unexpected health issues and the busyness of summer ministry, I’ve had to slow down more than I wanted. Thank you for your patience, your prayers, and for continuing to stop by the Porch each week.

One of the things I’ve missed most over the past few weeks has been the conversations that these Porch posts often spark. So if this week’s reflection resonates with you, I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts.

What You May Have Missed

Last week’s essay, Believing in God at a Distance, was a little different from my usual Porch posts. It explored the difference between simply believing that God exists and actually knowing Him through a relationship with Jesus Christ.

If you missed it, I think it’s one of the more important things I’ve written recently, and I’d encourage you to give it a read.

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Grace & Peace,

Adam

Dear Friends and Readers,

Thanks for stopping by The Pastor’s Porch today. It’s been a while, I know. But I’ve got something that has been going through my mind quite a bit lately. I come across a lot of folks, and you probably do too, who are not atheists, not hostile towards Christianity, and they’re not even uncomfortable talking about God in general terms. These people believe in God, and they appreciate prayers on their behalf. They may even talk about heaven, being blessed, or having faith. And they’ll even want God acknowledged at important events in their lives, like weddings, funerals, and the like.

But sometimes I wonder if what many people believe in is not so much the God revealed in Scripture, but rather simply the idea of God.

By that, I mean a God who exists somewhere above us, who comforts us when life gets hard. A God who blesses people we love and maybe even who receives us when we die. But this concept of God isn’t necessarily one who speaks, commands, forgives, confronts, transforms, or calls us to follow Him. You could call this cultural Christianity, or even a form of Deism. What do I mean? Let’s unpack.

A Comfortable Concept of God

A vague belief in God, or “the man upstairs,” can be very comforting because, well, it provides the blessings of a covering or protection without asking anything in return. It’s easy to keep this concept at a safe distance. In other words, we can find comfort in a non-specific higher power without it becoming disruptive to our lives. We find comfort in hard times without facing any kind of correction, blessing without a challenging of our life’s direction.

For instance, when we encounter difficulty or sorrow, folks will say, “everything happens for a reason” (Which by the way, is generally something I agree with). Or we think of God as the one we thank when something goes well. “Thank God they found no evidence of disease”. But these folks seem to keep God at arm’s length. They want a little bit of God, but not too much. After all, they’ve seen fanaticism, and they don’t want to be one of those Bible thumpers.

If this describes you or people you know, rest assured, the problem is not that of too much belief in God. But it might be that we are often content to believe too far too little.

In Acts 17, 22-23, Paul is in the great ancient city of Athens. And he is speaking to a group of people who had temples and monuments to all sorts of gods and goddesses. Despite that, many of the people had relegated their beliefs of deity to a more distant, less personal role. They weren’t atheists; they had altars and spiritual instincts.

But Paul said to them, “What therefore you worship as unknown, I proclaim to you.” You see, it is possible to have some vague religious spirituality, or be very respectful of the concept of God, and still not truly know Him.

The God of the Bible Does Not Stay Vague

While the concept of God as a distant figure who occasionally blesses or comforts may be the default view of many in our culture, it doesn’t line up with the Bible. The Scriptures present God not as a far-removed idea, but as the living God who reveals Himself.

Yahweh, the LORD God found in the Old and New Testaments, is not some undefined spiritual idea of a higher power. He speaks. He reveals Himself. He not only creates but enters into relationships with His creation. He makes promises and gives commands. He makes covenants, He rescues, He judges, He forgives, and most glorious of all, He entered into His creation in Jesus Christ

Hebrews 1:1-2 says, “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days He has spoken to us by His Son, whom He appointed the heir of all things, through whom also He created the world.”

John 1:14 tells us, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

And Paul says in Colossians 1:15, talking about Jesus, “He is the image of the invisible God...”

You see, God didn’t create the universe and set the world in motion and leave us to guess about the existence of some higher power, or which higher power. No. He made Himself known to us. If we want to know what God is like, we don’t have to settle for theories or feelings, or traditions. We look to Jesus. In Him, the invisible God has made Himself known.

And so Christianity is not built on the idea that God probably exists somewhere out there in the ether... It is built on the claim that God has made Himself known in the person of Jesus Christ, the Son.

Belief Is Not the Same as Trust

Now, in my life as a minister, I will often have people tell me in some form or fashion, “Yeah, I think what you do is important. I’m not particularly religious, but I believe in God.”

And while I appreciate that sentiment, we have to understand that there is a big difference between believing that God exists and entrusting your life to Him.

God has revealed Himself not only through Jesus Christ but also through His Word. And Scripture is really clear that merely believing that God exists, giving intellectual assent to a philosophical postulate, is not the same thing as saving faith. James, the half-brother of Jesus, says in James 2:19 that even the demons believe, and they shudder. In other words, God’s enemies acknowledge His existence, and they tremble before Him, but it’s not like they have a relationship with Him.

Belief in God’s existence is not the same as loving God, placing your trust in Him, repenting of sin, and surrendering your will to His.

Now, this does not mean that we should mock or compare people to demons who are somewhere on the journey. A lot of folks begin their spiritual journey with an unclear sense that God is real. But don’t confuse the starting point of faith with the destination.

You see, I can believe that a doctor exists without entrusting myself to his or her care. I can believe a bridge exists without going across it. I can believe that a chair will hold my weight without me sitting down in it. And in the same way, I can believe that there is a God while still trying to do life my own way.

The problem is, saving or transformative faith is not simply agreeing that God is there. It is trusting the God who has come near in Christ Jesus.

Jesus says as much in John 17:3, “And this is eternal life, that they know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.”

Eternal life is not found in giving a nod to a question about a higher power. It is in having a relationship with the God of the universe through God the Son, Jesus Christ. Not in merely knowing about Him, but being intimately acquainted with Him.

The Danger of a Useful God

“Okay, Adam, I get it. I believe in God, and that whole Jesus thing probably exists, or something or other. But I’m not really spiritual or a church-going person.” Cool. Notice I’ve not brought up going to church even once so far? At least not as a suggestion.

You see, if we believe in a higher power, we are often tempted to keep our idea of God useful, but not to trust in Him. What do I mean by that? A distant God can be useful. He can give us comfort, give our traditions a sense of deeper meaning, and help us feel somewhat grounded. But the living God is not a tool to be used. He is the creator and Lord of heaven and earth.

For instance, we ask God to bless what we have already decided to do rather than to seek His desire. We want God to be close to us to comfort us in a time of loss or difficulty, but not close enough to correct us when we step outside His plan and purpose. We want God during the crisis, but not for daily obedience. In other words, we want heaven later, but certainly not to surrender to Him now.

Again, we often want God close enough for comfort, but far enough away that He won’t make a claim on our time or life. Bless me, watch over me, but don’t interfere.

But Jesus doesn’t accept that. In Luke 6:46, He asks, “Why do you call Me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you?”

Jesus doesn’t leave room for a “faith” that honors Him or the Father with religious words while refusing His authority. “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you?” is not a question only for “those people out there.” It is for all of us.

This Is Not Just Their Problem

So this is where what I see in others leads to some introspection. Before we diagnose others with faith in name only, we have to admit how easy it can be for us to keep God at arm’s length as well.

I’ve heard a lot of Christians and preachers talk about people out there who don’t follow Jesus, who just either fake it or don’t take God seriously. But that’s too easy, and frankly too dishonest, because I know how easy it can be to do this in my own heart.

I can preach a pretty good sermon about putting your trust in God and still worry like I’m all alone in the universe. I can talk to people about the importance of prayer and still try to rely mostly on my own efforts and control. I can affirm Biblical truth and still fight against obedience to the Lord.

The question is not only whether people are content to live with a vague idea of God. The question is where have I tried to keep the living God at a safe distance?

God Invites Us to Know Him

Lately I’ve been doing a lot of reading on early American Christianity and also the life of John & Charles Wesley. The rise of the Methodist Movement, the Church of the United Brethren in Christ, and the Great Awakening in general can be traced back to people who had a formal, intellectual concept of God but no spiritual life or transformation. They had a “form of Godliness but denied the power thereof”.

What led to revival and renewal movements was not the spread of vague, shallow sentiments about religion, spirituality, or the idea of a higher power. Rather, it was a commitment to have a relationship with the living God through the Lord Jesus Christ, God the Son. It was about a heart and head kind of faith. One that engaged the passions and the intellect. One that focused on doctrine and transformation.

Instead of being content about thinking there is a God, or instead of boasting that we know there is a God, and even agreeing that it is the God of the Bible, let us press on to truly know in relationship the One who gave us everything.

Let these words found in Jeremiah 9:23-24 sink in deep and take root in your very soul:

“Thus says the LORD: ‘Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the LORD.”

God is not just an idea to comfort us. He is the living Lord who invites us to be in a relationship with Him.

So maybe the question is not simply, “Do I believe in God?” I mean, that’s a good question, just not the only one.

Perhaps what we really need to ask is, “Do I know Him?”

Am I walking with Him? Am I listening to Him? Am I trusting Christ? Am I surrendering the parts of my life to Him that I would rather keep under my own control?

Because, friends, Jesus did not come merely to make us vaguely religious. He came to bring us to the Father. And the Father is not looking for lip service on special occasions. He is inviting us into life with Him.

A Quick Note From Adam

It’s been a little while since I’ve written a regular Pastor’s Porch. Between some health issues and being busy with work, I’m trying to get my feet back under me. I had to slow down more than I wanted to. But this Porch community has meant much to me, and I hope this essay resonates with you.

I am deeply grateful for you, your patience, prayers, and encouragement.

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Grace & Peace,

Adam

“‘There,’ says the architect, ‘this building is strong.’ Yes, sir, but it must be tested. Let the wind blow against it. There is a lighthouse out at sea. It is a calm night; I cannot tell whether the edifice is firm. The tempest must howl about it, and then I will know whether it will stand.

“It is so with religion. If it were not on many occasions surrounded with tempestuous waters, we would not know that the ship was staunch and strong. If the winds did not blow on it, as they do on our poor brothers, we would not know how firm and secure it is. The master works of God are those that stand in the midst of difficulties—when all things oppose them, yet maintain their stand. These are his all-glorious works.

“So his best children, those who honor him most, are those who have grace to sustain them amid the heaviest load of tribulations and trials. God puts his people into such circumstances, then, to show us the power of his grace.”

–Charles Spurgeon

In life, we will go through many different trials and tests. Our faith is proven through these circumstances, but we cannot forget it as soon as life gets easier. So, how do we keep God at the center when we move from the wilderness to the promised land?

In Deuteronomy, we see the Israelites as they are nearing the entrance of the promised land. Deuteronomy, being the final book of the Pentateuch, or Torah, is the end of the journey that began in Exodus when Moses and the Israelites left Egypt. At the beginning of Joshua, the Israelites walked to the other side of the Jordan River into the promised land.

Remember how the Lord your God led you through the wilderness for these forty years, humbling you and testing you to prove your character, and to find out whether or not you would obey his commands. Yes, he humbled you by letting you go hungry and then feeding you with manna, a food previously unknown to you and your ancestors. He did it to teach you that people do not live by bread alone; rather, we live by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. For all these forty years your clothes didn’t wear out, and your feet didn’t blister or swell. Think about it: Just as a parent disciplines a child, the Lord your God disciplines you for your own good.

“So obey the commands of the Lord your God by walking in his ways and fearing him. For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land of flowing streams and pools of water, with fountains and springs that gush out in the valleys and hills. It is a land of wheat and barley; of grapevines, fig trees, and pomegranates; of olive oil and honey. It is a land where food is plentiful and nothing is lacking. It is a land where iron is as common as stone, and copper is abundant in the hills. When you have eaten your fill, be sure to praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.

“But that is the time to be careful! Beware that in your plenty you do not forget the Lord your God and disobey his commands, regulations, and decrees that I am giving you today. For when you have become full and prosperous and have built fine homes to live in, and when your flocks and herds have become very large and your silver and gold have multiplied along with everything else, be careful! Do not become proud at that time and forget the Lord your God, who rescued you from slavery in the land of Egypt.

Holy Bible: New Living Translation (Deuteronomy 8:2-14)

God knows what awaits you in the wilderness and knows how you will grow. God led Israel through the wilderness for forty years to humble and test them, revealing what was in their hearts and whether they would keep His commandments. Despite this, God was with them the whole way. Yahweh was there.

Even Jesus had to spend some time in the wilderness. In Matthew 4, we see him get tested. Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. Not only is he with us every step of the way, but he also understands what it means to be fully human. God understands the depths of our sorrow and desperation, but doesn’t leave us. He’s always guiding us, always providing for us,

In order not to forget where God brought us from, many people like to have reminders. In the Old Testament, a lot of altars were built. Samuel once built a specific altar called an Ebenezer.

Samuel then took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer (which means ‘the stone of help’), for he said, ‘Up to this point the Lord has helped us!’”

Holy Bible: New Living Translation (1 Samuel 7:12)

Nowadays, we typically use normal stones less to build something that honors and worships God. But it is still very possible to have an Ebenezer, a reminder of God, your helper.

One of the most powerful stories that I have come across is the story of Horatio Spafford, who wrote the hymn “It Is Well With My Soul.” Spafford, who was not a minister, wrote one of the greatest hymns ever penned and did so after three of the greatest tragedies the average person would only face once. Prior to 1871, he lost a son. Then, in 1871, he lost his real estate investments in the Chicago fire. Finally, in 1873, he sent his wife and four daughters ahead of him on a trip to Europe. While at sea, their boat crashed with another vessel, and all four daughters perished. Despite this, because he had God guiding him, it was well with his soul.

Arriving on the other side of the desert is cause for celebration. But what should be celebrated is what God has done in your life. I’m still coming through a tough time in my life. I lost my first job in my desired career field when I had no financial security. I had to leave graduate school because the last few months at that job had caused my grades to slip. I lost a job that was my safety net because the business shut down. Despite this, I feel more at peace than I did a year ago. My recent struggles are nothing compared to what Spafford went through, but I hope that this blog can serve as my Ebenezer. I hope that you can also find a way to remind yourself of God’s blessings when he leads you through a desert.

I am most familiar with the concept of an Ebenezer from one of my favorite songs by my favorite artist. I’ve included a section here.

And I will build an altar
And stack it stone by stone
“‘Cause every Ebenezer says I’ve never been alone
My faith will surely falter
But that don’t change what You’ve done
‘Cause every Ebenezer points to where my help comes from”
—“Just As Good” by Chris Renzema and Ellie Holcomb, (Songwriters: Chris Renzema / Hank Bentley)

We must never allow ourselves to become distracted by our blessings and forget to thank God for what He has done. How will you celebrate God’s faithfulness in this season, knowing He’s been with you through every one before it?

About Cody

Cody is a young minister with a heart for Jesus. I’ve had the great joy of seeing him grow up and not only commit his life to Christ, but to see him have a passion for serving others and sharing the Gospel. I’m happy to share his voice with you here.

Cody writes a blog called Moments With Emmanuel that I’d encourage you to check out. You can connect with Cody here:

Blog: Moments With Emmanuel

Facebook: Moments With Emmanuel

Instagram: Moments With Emmanuel

Porchside Update

This past week was a rough one with some health challenges, but thanks to great medical professionals, your prayers, and the grace of God, I am feeling better and ready to make some life changes that will hopefully be easier on my body as well as better steward this life that God has given me.

I’ve heard it said “I’d rather burn out than rust out,” but the problem is, either way, you’re out. God has a plan and purpose with everything, including our lives. And if we are going to be faithful and fruitful for our Lord and the people He’s placed in our lives, it means taking care of ourselves.

What You May Have Missed

The last Pastor’s Porch was called Chosen & Loved, adapted from a message I preached last year in a series on identity. It is a reminder that in Christ, we are not random, forgotten, or merely tolerated. We are brought into the very family of God.

You can read that here:

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If Cody’s reflection encouraged you, consider sharing it with someone who might need that reminder that the desert is not the end.

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Grace & Peace,

Adam

Maybe it was back in Phys Ed, when they were dividing up teams for kickball, and it came down to you and the kid who didn’t even show up that day. Or maybe it was when the teacher assigned a group project, and you formed a group from the people who didn’t have anywhere else to go.

It’s funny how those feelings can stick with us. We can carry them into adulthood without even realizing it. Somewhere along the way, a quiet thought begins to settle in: I don’t think I am wanted. I’m not really sure where I belong.

Whether it comes from rejection, comparison, failure, or just being overlooked, most of us have felt unchosen at some point. And sometimes we build so much of our lives either reinforcing that feeling or trying to compensate for it.

That’s part of why identity matters so much. So many people are trying to figure out who they really are, and what we have believed about ourselves is not always the truth.

A while back at Bethany, I preached a short series called Who Are You? We talked about how if we are in Christ Jesus, we are made new. We are not defined by our past, our sins, our mistakes, or even the labels other people have put on us. If we are in Christ Jesus, He gets to define us.

But Scripture takes us even deeper than that. God did not just clean us up or even just make us new. He chose us. On purpose. With love.

And that changes everything.

You are not random or forgotten. You are chosen and deeply loved by God.

In Ephesians 1:4-5, Paul writes, “For he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love, he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ.”

Now, I realize some theological debates tend to rise around words like chosen and predestined. And those conversations matter. I am not pretending they do not. But before we turn this into a debate or a denominational cage match, we need to let the force of the text hit us pastorally.

Before the foundation of the world, God knew His people. Before you had a resume, before you had a reputation, before you had accomplishments, before you had failures, before you had anything to bring to the table, God’s love was already moving toward you in Christ.

That means God’s love is not something we earn. It is something He gives.

We live in a world where so much is transactional. If you give me this, I’ll give you that. If the arrangement is useful, we keep it going. If it breaks down or no longer benefits us, we discard the other person and move on. And so we learn to perform. We learn to curate. We learn to hide the parts of ourselves we think might disqualify us. If we want to be loved, we assume we have to do enough, make enough, prove enough, or pretend enough.

But it is not that way with God.

God did not choose you because of your performance. He did not pick you because of your test scores or because you made employee of the month. He did not choose you because of your charisma, stunning good looks, fantastic personality, or because you finally got your act together.

God’s love flows from His nature, not from your behavior.

Romans 5:8 says, “but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” That means Christ did not die for us after we became impressive. He did not wait until we were polished, useful, respectable, or easy to love. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

God loved us when we had nothing to offer Him.

That is hard for us to believe because so much of life trains us in the opposite direction. It is like going on a job interview or trying to date. If I dress a certain way, accentuate certain parts of my resume, hide my flaws, and present the best possible version of myself, then maybe I have a shot.

But God does not love the edited version of you. He does not love the version you try to present when you want people to think you have it all together. He knows the truth. He knows the sin, the insecurity, the weakness, the immaturity, the fear, the resentment, the anxiety, and all the things you would rather keep hidden.

And still, in Christ, He sets His love on you.

God’s love is not earned. It is given.

And being chosen by God gives us something many of us spend our whole lives searching for: security and belonging.

We work really hard at hiding it, but for many of us, the deepest question we will ever wrestle with is this: Do I matter to anyone?

Sometimes we feel like the good china that gets brought out for special occasions. Christmas. An anniversary dinner. A holiday meal. For a little while, we feel useful and admired. But then we get put back in the cabinet somewhere, and eventually we start to wonder, Was that just for show?

Maybe the circumstances of our family or our upbringing caused us to wonder if we were just an accident. Maybe someone’s absence, rejection, harsh words, or indifference planted a question in us that has been hard to shake. Do I belong anywhere? Am I wanted? Would anyone really notice if I were gone?

You need to know that no matter what people around you have said or done, you are not an accident or an afterthought. God, the Creator of the universe, knew you. He knit you together in your mother’s womb. He has chosen His people in Christ, and that gives us identity, purpose, and security.

If you have repented and placed your trust in Jesus Christ, you are a child of God.

Ephesians 2:8-10 says, “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

Notice what Paul says there. We are not saved by performance. We are saved by grace. But that grace does not leave us drifting around without meaning. We are His workmanship. We were created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand.

In other words, you were not just saved from something. You were saved into something.

You were saved from sin, death, and hell, yes. Praise God for that. But you were also saved into a family, into the Kingdom of God, into a life of purpose, and into a new identity that is not held together by your usefulness, your popularity, your success, or your ability to impress people.

The Gospel is not just about forgiveness. It is also about finding a new place to belong in the family of God.

And that leads us to one more beautiful truth: our identity is rooted in being God’s beloved children.

God did not just rescue you. He adopted you.

In ancient times, adoption was seen as something permanent and intentional. It came with rights, inheritance, and a new family identity. That matters because the Bible does not merely say God tolerates us, uses us, or occasionally visits us with blessing. It says He brings us into His family.

That has taken me a long time to really understand.

I grew up attending church. There was never a time in my life when I did not go to church on a regular basis. Some might look at that and think, “Well, Adam must have always felt close to Jesus. He must have always been such a good boy.”

No.

I went to church. I participated. I did the stuff. Sunday School. VBS. Choir. Serving. All of that. But for much of my life, I still felt like a guest.

Now, being a guest can be great. When my cousin Jimmy and I were little, we would take turns sleeping at each other’s houses. And when it came to who got to do what first, whether it was playing Nintendo, taking a turn on the swings, or whatever else, I would say, “The guest gets treated the best.”

And in one sense, that was true. Guests often get special treatment.

But you know what being a guest also means? It means that at the end of the day, or at the end of the stay, you go back to where you live. You do not get to live at the resort. You go home.

For much of my life, when it came to the Lord, I think I felt like a guest. God loved me. God would bless me. God would let me visit. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I still felt like there was a limit. Like, eventually He would say, “Okay, Adam, you’ve been here a while. It’s time to go back to your own little world.”

But when it comes to God, I finally began to understand something I want you to understand, too.

If you have placed your faith in Christ Jesus, you are not a guest in God’s house.

You are His child.

You belong with Him always.

Romans 8:15 says, “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’”

1 John 3:1 says, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.”

That little phrase matters: “and so we are.”

Not “and maybe one day we will be.”

Not “and if we keep our act together, perhaps we can become.”

Not “and if nobody finds out what we are really like, God may let us stay.”

No. See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.

So yes, when it comes to group projects, kickball teams, friend groups, career opportunities, family dynamics, or whatever else, you might feel overlooked. People may do that to you. Sometimes it is because people stink. Sometimes it is because we are all so wrapped up in our own little worlds that we overlook others without even realizing it.

But God has not overlooked you.

He has called you. He loves you.

His love is not earned. It is given.

His choosing of us gives us security and belonging.

And our identity is rooted in being His beloved children.

So what about you?

Are you still trying to earn the love God has already given you? Are you still living as though you have to perform well enough to be welcomed by Him? Are you still believing the old lie that your identity is wrapped up in what you do, who approves of you, who rejects you, how successful you are, how useful you feel, or how anxious your mind is on a given day?

Friend, the Holy Spirit wants to give you rest in God’s love.

That does not mean we stop obeying. It does not mean we stop growing. It does not mean we stop pursuing holiness or doing good works. But it does mean we stop trying to earn the love that Christ has already secured for us.

Maybe you have believed the lies of culture, the enemy, or your own wounded heart about your identity. Maybe you have believed that you are unwanted, forgotten, disposable, or too much trouble. Maybe you have spent years trying to prove that you matter.

But in Christ, the Father calls you His own.

You are not random.

You are not forgotten.

You are not merely tolerated.

You are chosen and deeply loved by God.

Porchside Update

I missed last week’s Pastor’s Porch, and honestly, I’ve been struggling a bit to get back into the rhythm of writing. Some weeks, the words come pretty easily. Other weeks, life and ministry pile up, and I stare at a blank screen longer than I’d like to admit.

Last year at Bethany, I preached a short series called Who Are You? about our identity in Christ. This week’s reflection is adapted from the second message in that series. It felt like the right word to revisit, because all of us need to be reminded from time to time that our identity is not rooted in being impressive, useful, or noticed by others. In Christ, we are chosen and loved.

Currently, at Bethany Church, we’re in a series of messages called “You Asked For It” where we take questions about faith, life, and the Bible, and try to give answers that are faithful to what God says. This sort of series is fun to preach, but it also stretches me and causes me to dig deep into Scripture. Maybe it helps me more than it helps those who ask the questions? You can check out Bethany’s YouTube Page here.

What You May Have Missed

If you missed the anniversary post, The Pastor’s Porch recently turned one year old. I shared some reflections on what this first year of writing has taught me, what surprised me, and why I’m grateful to keep going.

You can read that post here:

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Grace & Peace,

Adam

Sometimes, I need to put thoughts on paper to help process them. I’ve noticed that I preach better sermons when I write out a manuscript of the whole sermon, even if I don’t look at it much during the delivery. Writing has been both something I want to do and something that I often find myself NEEDING to do. And if I could do it in such a way that could encourage other believers, pastors and laypeople alike, all the better.

Over the last decade or so, the Lord has been reshaping what I thought ministry looks like and what it means to follow Jesus faithfully in our culture today. And I noticed a lack of voices coming from rural and small-town pastors who were focused on healthy discipleship, healthy Christians, and making an impact. So, why not write about it and see what God does?

God has really surprised me over the last year. First of all, I wasn’t sure if I could keep it up. There were a few stretches where maybe you wondered if I had stopped. The truth is that there were some weeks where life and ministry were just hard, and when I sat down to type, the fingers refused to budge. Or weeks where I got two or three paragraphs out and then decided to just delete the whole thing. So thanks for sticking with me even when I didn’t know if I’d stick with me... If that makes sense.

I’ve also been surprised by which posts resonated with folks. Some of my most popular porch posts were ones that I thought would be duds. And of course others that I thought were really, really good, well, let’s just say that I’m really thankful my wife and mom read my stuff...

My top-performing post was written earlier this spring on knowing when to speak and when to be quiet. Shortly after it went live, I lost 2 or 3 subscribers, and while that shouldn’t surprise me, I could tell by one of the email addresses that it was someone I knew well. And I know I shouldn’t have let it bother me, but I began to think that maybe I shouldn’t have written it... And then I was blown away by the number of people who reshared it on social media and who had sent me personal feedback. I gained something like 10 additional subscribers from that post.

That tells me that people are hungry for real, unpolished faith. Folks are hungry for encouragement and the occasional stepping on toes. Sometimes, the porch reaches people in ways a pulpit never will.

Shifting gears a bit here... Next month, I will turn 41, and it has me thinking about my legacy. See, don’t get me wrong... A legacy is not simply what’s left over when you die, but something you build with your life. I think about the Christian I want to be, the husband, father, and pastor I want not just to feel like but that others see in me.

See, there are a lot of imperfections in good ol’ Adam here. I allow my anxiety disorder to control me too much. I get incredibly nervous in certain settings and seek to avoid crowds as much as I can, even though I have a desire to see people flourish, enjoy life, and follow Christ together. I don’t deal with stress very well. I could go on, but you get the point.

But when I look ahead, with my kids growing up and my wife and I entering “mid-life,” I want to be different. I want our house to be a refuge for our kids and their friends, just as my pastor’s family was for me when I was a teenager. I want to be someone that people can trust to have their best interests at heart. I want to be someone who stands for and teaches the truth, but also speaks and lives with love and grace.

In short, I want to be like Jesus. And I want others to have that same desire, too.

As I sit on my back deck typing this, I see the back field is ready to be cut for hay, and the birds are chirping. The kids have been playing in the sprinkler, and we’ve been blessed with some beautiful weather for the last week or so. I’ve not spent enough time outside for a long time. But as I sit out here, I cannot help but be thankful for God’s creation and the reminders He has given us to look for Him.

The cardinals and robins in the backyard don’t have all the gadgets and stuff we have, yet God has provided what they need. The leaves on the maple trees still have that soft, waxy feeling of being new, reminding me that God is the source of life and He gives new life to those who seek Him. The breeze and the sounds of the sprinkler remind me of the refreshing of the Holy Spirit.

Yes, friends, life is good here on the porch, because we have a good and faithful God who is constant in His character. He is worthy of our worship, and it is the reasonable response to all He has done to offer our lives as a living sacrifice to Him.

And so, thanks for hanging with me, whether this is your first Pastor’s Porch or you’ve been with me from the start. Happy Anniversary, friends. And to those who have subscribed, shared, replied, prayed, encouraged, or even supported this work financially...thank you. You’ve helped make this little porch feel less like shouting into the wind and more like a conversation.

And if you need a place to sit and just be still and know that the Lord is God, you’re welcome on our porch anytime.

If The Pastor’s Porch has encouraged you over this first year, would you consider sharing it with one person who could also use encouragement?

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And if you’re not already subscribed, you’re welcome to pull up a chair. My hope for year two is simple: to keep offering honest words, steady encouragement, and reminders of God’s grace for ordinary people in small towns and rural places.

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Grace & Peace,

Adam

I grew up with a high reverence for “going to church”. Even though I didn’t want to go at times, it was what you were supposed to do. That was often the measure of spiritual growth and development: going to church. If you became a Christian and wanted to grow in your faith, the answer was simple: go to Sunday school and church. And when I became a pastor, I carried that attitude into the pulpit.

Sunday morning was sacred. The pulpit was a special place. And what happened in the church sanctuary was without parallel.

A great example of this would be that if someone prayed to accept Christ (get saved or whatever lingo you’re used to) outside of a Sunday morning service, it was not uncommon for them to be encouraged to go down to the altar (what we called the wooden railing along the front of the pulpit/stage area) and “make it official.” Looking back, it seems altogether foolish to me, and very bad theology, to think that God really wanted it to count by having it happen on Sunday at 11 AM at the wooden rail in the front of the church building.

I still believe that the gathering of the saints on the Lord’s Day is sacred. I still believe that teaching God’s Word, from a wooden pulpit or a music stand or nowadays a bar table, is a special honor and sacred responsibility. And I still believe that one of the best ways to grow in your faith is to regularly gather with God’s people.

But allow me to let you in on a little secret. Not all ministry happens behind a pulpit. In fact, I would say that the most meaningful ministry rarely does.

When you read the Gospels, you’ll find Jesus teaching occasionally in the synagogue, but many of his most dramatic and meaningful teachings and encounters happened outside of the “worship service.”

Take, for example, in John 4, Jesus encounters a Samaritan woman at a well. Not only is this in the outdoors, but it’s in a place we would never expect a Jewish teacher to be sharing the message of the Kingdom. Go back a chapter to John 3, and you’ll discover that the most frequently cited verse, John 3:16, was given in a private meeting, not in a sermon.

What I am trying to say isn’t that preaching isn’t important, but rather sometimes the most meaningful ministry happens on the margins of life. Those meetings for coffee or milkshakes. Texting a friend before a doctor’s appointment. An encouraging word to someone at the grocery store. It occurs to me that sometimes we overlook those conversations through which the Kingdom of God is advancing.

Even though I pastor a church, God keeps showing up in places I didn’t expect, and some of the most meaningful ministry opportunities I’ve had as of late occurred outside the sanctuary. I’ve been getting Facebook Messages from folks who are struggling and have been encouraged by my writing. Or take, for instance, the conversations I have with folks I interact with in the cemetery where I work. Even though it’s an hour away from my congregation, I find myself offering prayer and getting to know people in a pastoral way.

I’ve had people reach out to me who don’t attend church anywhere who consider me some sort of spiritual advisor. I’m able to have conversations with people who rarely darken the door of a local church. And, well, that’s just cool. It’s a God thing that Adam of 15 years ago or so would have dismissed as insignificant… It didn’t matter unless I got them to church. Or if I could put them in my annual report.

But the Kingdom of God cannot be fully quantified, if it can be quantified at all, on a report to either your church council or your denominational HQ. The Kingdom of God, we’re told in Matthew 13:33, “is like yeast that a woman mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”

Often in the Bible, yeast or leaven is compared to sin. We’re warned not to allow something we consider to be small into our lives (a white lie or a lustful look) because it will have a big impact. A little leavens the whole lump, right? But here, Jesus uses the idea of yeast leavening the flour in a positive light. The Kingdom of God may have a small beginning, but it has an invisible growth that is unstoppable. And eventually, it leads to total transformation of a person, a community, the world.

So, my question to you is this: How are you doing outside the sanctuary? Are you someone that people open up to? Are you open to allowing God to use you in places not expected? Because some of the greatest events in the Bible, and some of the holiest conversations we have today, often happen outside the schedule and routine. They happen in the margins of life.

Porchside Update

School’s out for summer! And all the kids said… amen.

This past week has been incredibly busy in the Will household, and I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I have to confess that on Memorial Day, I didn’t do a thing or even leave the house. It was a nice respite from the busyness of late.

We’ve had a lot of rain in the last 7 days. We’ve needed it. But perhaps not all at once? Thunderstorms are in the forecast again for today, and I think that calls for coffee and sitting on the front porch.

We had a bear sighting in our community this past week. Living along the Ohio River, black bears are becoming more common, but still, it’s rare to see one. And we just re-did the kids’ bathroom with a forest theme full of, you guessed it, bears… Maybe that means Teddy will feel at home if he comes for a visit…

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Thanks for sitting on the porch with me today.

Grace & Peace,

Adam

Man, I was frustrated. Here I was going to be late for work and now not even caffeinated!? That’s enough to make anyone upset, right? I mean, we’ve all seen rants on social media over things far less significant than not getting your daily dose of caffeine. I drove off, settling for a bottle of Sprite, which isn’t even caffeinated.

I decided to listen to my bible app once I got onto the interstate, thinking maybe some Jesus time would help me calm down and stay focused. And wouldn’t you know it, the narrator was telling the story of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, complaining that they had nothing to eat.

Here God has brought them out of slavery and terrible oppression, and was taking them to the promised land, a land flowing with milk and honey. God was sending down manna from heaven, the perfect food, and all they had to do was gather it. But were they satisfied? Were they thankful? No. They complained. They wanted to go back to Egypt because even though they were enslaved, at least they had leeks, garlic, cucumbers, and meat to eat.

In Numbers 11, God was tired of their complaining. Moses was tired of them complaining. Moses even complained about their complaining to the Lord. Numbers 11:10 says, “The anger of the LORD blazed hotly, and Moses was displeased.” So the Lord gave them quail to eat, until they were sick of the quail. And many who had grumbled were stricken with a plague and died.

But did Israel learn their lesson? Hardly. Flip a few pages in your Bible to Numbers 14, and you find them ready to rebel. They heard scary things about the land God was sending them to and giving them, so they decided to make a U-turn. Numbers 14 gives us the story. Verse 2 says, “And all the people of Israel grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The whole congregation said to them, ‘Would that we had died in the land of Egypt! Or would that he had died in this wilderness!”

Did you catch that? They were so ungrateful, so hard-hearted, that they actually would have preferred to go back into slavery and oppression and die there rather than obtain what God was wanting to give them.

I immediately felt conviction from the Holy Spirit. I was just as bad. I had coffee at home; I had just chosen not to take the time to brew it. There was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me at work; I just had to wait a little bit longer to get to it. I had suffered a minor inconvenience and didn’t get exactly what I wanted, and I was upset about it. How juvenile of me. How human.

If we’re not careful, all of us can become ungrateful jerks. Instead of being thankful for what we do have, we can focus on the tiniest of things and complain. No one likes a complainer. Have you ever worked with someone who seemed to complain about every little thing? From how the sandwich they got for lunch was missing the mayo, to why customers weren’t kind, to complaining about management, to the point that everything out of their mouths seems to be negative? Sigh, it can be exhausting.

Yes, I realize that I am complaining about people who complain. The irony is rich.

But when I am around someone who is full of ingratitude, I am reminded of how I must appear to people when I fail to appreciate the blessings I do have. And I resolve to try and find the good.

See, life may not always go the way you want it to. In fact, I find that it rarely goes the way I intend for it. However, I also realize that I am blessed far beyond my thankfulness. The stories of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness are given for our instruction, a warning against complaining and ingratitude.

Go back to the end phrase of Numbers 14:2- “Or would that we had died in this wilderness!” Be careful what you wish for. You see, because they lacked faith and continued to complain against God, all the adults, except Caleb and Joshua (who had faith that God would fulfill His promises) would die and be buried in the wilderness.

Being ungrateful, having a constant complaint? Well, it leads to death. Maybe not physical, but it will cause you to be mentally and spiritually sick.

And if I’m honest, I think that’s why gratitude is such an important spiritual discipline. Gratitude slows us down long enough to notice grace. The warm cup of coffee. The text from a friend. The laughter of your kids. A safe drive to work. A church family. Food on the table. Breath in our lungs. Salvation in Christ.

The Israelites had manna falling from heaven and still complained because they focused more on what they didn’t have than what God had already provided. If we’re not careful, we can do the same thing.

So maybe this week, instead of immediately focusing on what frustrates us, we pause long enough to thank God for what He has already given us. Not because life is perfect, but because even in the wilderness, God is still faithful.

Porchside Update

While we’re still in May, this week's weather is certainly reminiscent of summer. 90 degrees and muggy is more like July weather here in SE Ohio, but we certainly need the rain that is on its way.

Speaking of water, we just got back from a mini-vacation at Great Wolf Lodge in Mason, OH. It’s a pretty big indoor waterpark with nice accommodations. Our kids had a blast, and missing a couple of days of school made it all the more enjoyable for them. They finish the school year this week, and boy, are they ready for summer break.

This Sunday is Pentecost Sunday & Memorial Day Weekend. And it’s going to be a busy one. After our service at Bethany Church, I’ll drive over to Pomeroy, OH, to speak at St. Paul Lutheran Church.

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There’s always room for you here.

Grace & Peace,

Adam

Distraction is an effective tactic. We’re working on something important, and along comes something that seems either just as important or perhaps more urgent. It reminds me of something I am trying to teach my kids: the difference between importance and urgency. Importance makes me think of the hierarchy of needs or something like that. This thing is important, so it ranks first.

Urgency is not so much what thing is the highest good, but what needs to be done right now. Urgency is not a question of importance as much as a question of time. That project that your kid has due before the end of the year, which counts for 50% of their grade, is important. Very important. And with the school year winding down, it is getting more urgent.

But what is more urgent than that research paper on the Iran-Contra Affair is that you feed and water the dog and cat. Sure, one meal isn’t any more important than another in the scheme of things, but these creatures without opposable thumbs must be taken care of.

So when something comes along that seems important, or perhaps of little importance but of some urgency, the temptation is to hit the pause button on what we’re doing and move to a different task. And if you’re like me, and have ADHD, you don’t even have to have someone give you a distraction; they are everywhere… Oh, look, a squirrel!

And so, it has been both my experience and my frequent observation that Satan, or our own flesh if you will, will do much to distract us from what is the higher good, the most important, the thing God is calling us to do. It’s been said that the enemy of great is simply good, which keeps us from that which is great. I completely agree.

So when Jesus calls us to abide in Him (John 15), when we’re called to meditate on God’s Word (Psalm 1 & Joshua 1 & Psalm 119), when we’re called to make family spirituality a priority (Deuteronomy 6), it’s easy to see how these things are often the first to go when life gets busy.

So if threats didn’t work, if mockery didn’t phase him, then of course the enemy comes at Nehemiah with a distraction. Hey, come here, we need to discuss something. And I LOVE Nehemiah’s response. “I cannot come down from the wall, for I am doing a great work.” Read the story here in Nehemiah 6:1-9)

I don’t think Nehemiah was referencing the quality of his masonry skills. My dad laid brick and block, and I was rarely allowed to assist except to mix mortar or bring him bricks because it needed to be excellent. I am willing to bet that my father was a better stone mason than Nehemiah. No, it’s not the quality of his work, but the importance of it that was great.

Nehemiah had a job to do, and unless something could be shown to be of greater importance, or of more urgency, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be distracted. Friends, we could learn SO much from that. As parents, how often are we focused on things of little to no importance instead of pouring into our kids’ lives? I know this is an area where I need to improve.

How often do we neglect people for things that really don’t matter? For example, I love theology. I don’t think there is a Christian who shouldn’t love theology. I mean, I love to read theology, listen to lectures, and discuss theology. But there is a tendency sometimes for us to debate theology more than to practice theology.

Take me for instance: I am a melting pot theologically. I have strong Wesleyan roots and consider myself an Arminian (which is a dirty word for many who are Arminian in practice but have been taught that it means something it does not). However, some of my favorite theologians and apologists (people who defend the faith) are Calvinists. RC Sproul and Tim Keller, if they were still alive, would have major disagreements on doctrine because I am not just a Wesleyan, but also a credobaptist (meaning I believe only professing believers should be baptized, not infants). They were both Calvinistic Presbyterians.

So what does this have to do with anything? I’m trying to say that I love the discussions I see online between brothers and sisters of the faith, and the books I read, that debate and sharpen each other theologically. But what bothers me is how some people just seem to live to argue with people… I don’t remember seeing that anywhere in the Great Commission.

In other words, sometimes as Christians, we can get so in-depth that we forget what we were doing. We can’t see the forest for the trees. We forget than billons of people in this world do not have the hope of Christ, and our call is to make disciples.

So maybe the question isn’t whether something is good or bad. Maybe the question is simpler—and harder: Is this what God has called me to right now?

Nehemiah didn’t say the other things weren’t important. He just knew they weren’t his assignment. So when the invitation came to step away, he responded, “I cannot come down from the wall, for I am doing a great work.”

If I’m honest, this is something I wrestle with more than I’d like to admit. There are always things pulling my attention: some important, some urgent, and some just… there. And it’s easy to drift from what matters most without even realizing it.

But Nehemiah reminds me that faithfulness sometimes looks like saying no, even to good things. It looks like staying put, staying focused, and refusing to come down from the wall God has called you to build.

Friends, not everything that is good is worth stepping down from the wall for. Some things aren’t wrong; they’re just not what God has called you to in this moment. And if we’re not careful, we’ll spend our lives busy with good things while neglecting the great work God has actually placed in front of us.

Maybe this week, the most spiritual thing you and I can say isn’t “yes” to something new, but “no” to something that would pull us away from what matters most. And keep building.

🪑 Porch Update

It’s been a busy, busy time in Will-ville. All the more reason, perhaps, that this idea of distraction has been on my mind. I actually preached a message this past Sunday on a similar topic. Click here to view the message.

Sophia had a band banquet last week where she got an award for 6th-grade saxophone. So proud of her. She’s actually thinking of switching to percussion and playing the mallets next year. Libby has an FFA banquet this week, and we’re getting ready to buy chickens for a project. Oh, what have we signed up for?!

Things at Bethany Church are rolling along. We just finished up our series on the Resurrection, and now we’re spending the month of May looking at what it means to really Walk with Jesus. This following Jesus thing isn’t just a Sunday hike, but a daily walk with our Savior & King.

We’re right now making some plans for summer Vacation Bible School, and looking ahead to starting some small, but hopefully impactful ministries for our youth and young families. Rural ministry isn’t fast or fancy. It takes time and investment in people. Your prayers, encouragement, and partnership are a tremendous help to me.

🔁 What You May Have Missed

If you’re newer to the Porch or catching up, here are a couple of reflections from the archives:

You can find those and more in the archive.

📬 Help Spread the Word!

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Keep on the wall, and keep seeking Jesus!

Grace & Peace,
Adam

That instinct doesn’t just show up in everyday life. It shows up in our faith, too. Some people haven’t stopped believing in Jesus, but they’ve quietly stepped back from Him because they feel like they’ve failed too deeply to come back. Maybe it was something they said or did. Maybe it was a slow drift over time. But somewhere along the way, they began to believe that they had blown it beyond repair.

If that sounds familiar, you’re not alone.

This past Sunday at Bethany Church, I preached from John 21, and I’ve found myself coming back to it again since. One of Jesus’ closest followers finds himself in that exact place. Simon Peter didn’t just stumble… he failed in a moment that mattered. On the night Jesus was arrested, Peter denied even knowing Him. Not once, but three times. It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t private. It was public, painful, and unforgettable. And after it happened, you can almost feel the weight of it sitting on him.

So when we find Peter in John 21, after the resurrection, he does something that might seem simple on the surface but carries a much deeper meaning: he goes fishing. This wasn’t just a casual decision to pass the time. Fishing was what Peter did before Jesus called him. It was familiar. It was safe. It was something he knew he could do without failing in the same way again. It meant leaving Jerusalem behind and going back to Galilee.

That’s often what we do after failure. We don’t run toward Jesus; we step back. We return to what’s comfortable. We quietly retreat into old patterns or old identities, not necessarily because we want to abandon our faith, but because we’re not sure how to move forward in it anymore.

But the story doesn’t end with Peter drifting.

It continues with Jesus pursuing.

After a long night of fishing with nothing to show for it, the disciples see someone standing on the shore. They don’t recognize Him at first. He calls out to them and tells them to cast their net again, and suddenly the nets are full. It’s a moment that echoes an earlier calling, and it’s enough for John to realize what’s happening. “It is the Lord,” he says. And Peter, as impulsive as ever, doesn’t wait for the boat. He jumps into the water and makes his way to Jesus.

When they arrive on shore, they find something unexpected. Jesus already has a fire going. There is fish laid out and bread prepared. In other words, He didn’t need what they had been working all night to catch.

That detail matters more than we might think. So often, we assume that if we are going to come back to Jesus, we need to bring something with us. We need to have fixed things, cleaned things up, or proven something about ourselves. But here is Jesus, already providing, already preparing, already inviting them to sit down and eat. The invitation is not based on their success. It is rooted in His grace.

After breakfast, Jesus turns to Peter and begins a conversation that is both gentle and deeply personal. Three times, He asks, “Do you love me?” It is not a random question, and it is not because Jesus is unsure of the answer. Each question reaches back into Peter’s earlier denial. Each one brings Peter face-to-face with what happened. And Scripture tells us that Peter is grieved as the questions continue, because he understands what Jesus is doing.

This is what real restoration looks like. It is not a quick covering over of failure, as though nothing ever happened. It is a careful and sometimes painful process of bringing those places into the light so that they can be healed. Jesus is not shaming Peter, but He is also not ignoring what took place. He is restoring him at the very point where he broke down.

And what follows is just as important. After each of Peter’s responses, Jesus gives him a commission: “Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.” This is more than forgiveness. This is reinstatement. Jesus is not simply allowing Peter to come back; He is entrusting him with responsibility again. He is giving him purpose.

That’s where this passage pushes against the way many of us think. We tend to believe that failure disqualifies us, that once we’ve messed up badly enough, we’re done. But Jesus shows us something different. The place of failure can become the place of restoration, and not only restoration, but a renewed calling.

At the end of the conversation, Jesus says to Peter the same words He spoke at the very beginning: “Follow me.” It is a reminder that Peter’s story is not over, and that his past does not have the final say in his future.

The same is true for us.

Because of the cross, sin is paid for, and shame is covered. And because Jesus is alive, restoration is not just a nice idea… it is a real possibility. Some people don’t need to be convinced of the truth of the gospel; they need to experience the restoring grace of it.

If you’ve found yourself drifting, pulling back, or believing that you’ve gone too far, this passage offers a different perspective. You don’t have to fix everything before you come back. You don’t have to prove that you’re worthy of another chance. The invitation of Jesus is not delayed until you get your life together.

It is extended to you now.

Failure is not the end of your story. You are not disqualified. And the same voice that called Peter still calls today:

“Follow me”.

Porchside Update

As this goes out on Thursday, April 23rd, we’ll be celebrating our youngest, Vivian Faith, turning 2! It’s hard to believe! She’s so precious and cute. And tomorrow, Sophia Grace turns 12! Wow. I feel so old! It’s a good reminder of how our families are our greatest blessing and most important ministry.

The big kids, Libby, Sophia, and David, are excited to have only about 4 weeks of school left. The summer will be here before we know it. I’m going to miss taking them to school in the mornings, but also thankful that I don’t have to get them out of bed for a while!

On the Porch

If this resonated with you, consider sharing it with someone who might need the reminder. A simple text or share goes a long way.

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And if you’re new here, you can subscribe to The Pastor’s Porch to receive these reflections each week. This space is for people walking through real life and real faith, especially in small towns and rural places, trying to follow Jesus one step at a time.

And if you’d like to partner with me, you can become a paying subscriber and get access to bonus content and know you’re helping me keep the porch light on, so to speak.

Subscribe now

There’s always room for you here.

Grace & Peace,

Adam

I certainly didn’t always do this, but over the last few years I have really tried to limit what I say online because even though I believe things, and may even believe them to be important, I don’t want to cause unnecessary offense, or create any other barrier for someone to listen to me when I teach theological truth or the Bible, the Gospel, and so on. And I got to say, boy, is it hard not to say some things. So many things.

One reason it’s difficult is that I am someone with deeply held convictions, and I’m pretty opinionated. I know that everyone doesn’t need to hear my opinion, but I have a bit of a knack for communicating, and sometimes I think I have a point worth sharing. I care deeply about my community, state, and nation, and I do quite a bit of reading and listening to smart people. I think I know a little bit about what I am talking about, and when I see others who seemingly don’t, I REALLY want to engage. Chomping at the bit, so to speak.

But there is a second reason I find it difficult… And that is because a lot of things are, at least in some way, Gospel issues. Tariffs and tax rates? Eh, probably not, although I still have some strong convictions there. Character, morals, the way people who claim to be Christians act, and how sometimes Christians get led astray by other beliefs or priorities? Yeah, I think those are important issues that Christian leaders need to address.

And yet, I go back and forth. When I called out Christians for supporting someone who was boasting of immoral actions, I faced immediate pushback. “Well, why didn’t you call out so-and-so for such-and-such? What about the other side? You have selective outrage.” And it is so frustrating because it’s as if to comment about anything people now insist you comment about everything. It’s like I can’t say the sky is blue because someone will comment, “Yeah, well, what about the ocean! You didn’t say anything about the ocean, you fake!” Honestly? It can be so exhausting.

So what about the flipside? What about the opportunity cost I am incurring by not speaking up? If I choose to hold my views close to the vest, as it were, am I also not building a barrier? Let me give you a hypothetical: Let’s say that a good deal of those I interact with online are not Christians, or perhaps that a significant minority are Christians in name only. My goal as a Christian is to persuade as many of them as possible to follow Jesus wholeheartedly. However, if I don’t speak up against injustice or immorality from, say, my side (politically, theologically, etc.), then am I broadcasting to those people that I am not trustworthy, or even worse, perhaps I am part of the problem?

Am I harming my witness by speaking out… or by staying silent?

On a semi-regular basis I have to tell someone “Look, just because I am a minister, it doesn’t mean I am like [insert other minister they know of or have had an experience with]. I have a few acquaintances who message me every time a “minister” says or does something dumb or wicked and ask “are you okay with this?” Like, no, dude. I am not like that person in any way. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I chuckle. Sometimes I sigh. Usually, I get frustrated that I have to explain myself more than I get to explain Jesus to people.

I think so much of the problem is that people are so opposed to nuance and argumentation these days. In short, we’ve become mentally lazy. It’s much easier for me to get my talking points from Fox News or MS NOW, or TikTok or X than it is for me to actually read a sourced article and think about something… to ponder the logic and reasoning of what I’ve read, and consider what, if anything, the Bible has to say about it.

For instance, take immigration. I have reasonable and logical arguments that illegal immigration is a bad thing for our country, and frankly, for the immigrants themselves. But I also know that God’s Word has quite a few verses about how we are to treat the foreigner and the stranger in our land, and at the very least, speaks to the dignity and worth that all of us have from being made in the image of God. Therefore, I can form a nuanced view that I oppose illegal immigration, but I also oppose unjust and uncompassionate ways of dealing with illegal immigrants (breaking up families, insinuating that all immigrants are violent or unsafe, etc). But the minute I argue for either Christ-like compassion or just and legal enforcement of our laws, I am castigated as a progressive “evanjellyfish” or a hateful bigot. I am neither.

The problem with worrying about the opportunity cost is this: very few people of faith are speaking up at all.

I should be able to say that it is evil for a leader, regardless of how secular they are, to call for the annihilation of a people group, even if our nation is at war. I should be able to encourage Christians to pray for peace in the Middle East AND for the protection of people from what has been an evil regime in Iran. I should be able to hold on to two truths at the same time without people assuming the Gospel means something different.

At the end of the day, I am much less concerned if my preferred political outcome happens, as I am concerned that people who follow Christ actually reflect what Christ says. For me, that means holding to theologically conservative (notice, not politically) viewpoints while not being jerks about it. You see, I believe that the Bible is without error and perfect. That means I can believe everything it says about sinfulness and righteousness, and still believe that we who follow Jesus are called to live with compassion and kindness, to stand for truth, and also to pray for our enemies.

And friends, it feels awfully lonely right now to have these convictions. I am gravely worried about the future of our republic. But I am worried much more about the witness and example people who claim to follow Christ are setting. We must demand character and integrity from our leaders, not simply make excuses for them when they come from “our side”. Because the truth is, Christians should belong to Jesus, not to a party or even a country. We follow Jesus first.

If that causes you to not hear what I have to say on Sundays or not read what I write, that really saddens me. I am sorry for the opportunity that has been lost. I believe in dialogue. I believe in having passionate debates and reasonable conversations. But sadly, for too many people, emotion and preference take precedence. I hope you know me and other people of faith to be sincere and that our goal is not to divide but to bring people to Jesus. And sometimes, following Jesus means saying unpopular things, but yet said in love.

Remember, we belong to Jesus. And we follow Him first. We should follow Him only.

Grace & Peace to you,

Adam

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Today is Good Friday, the day on which we remember the crucifixion of Jesus. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t grow up in a church that was very liturgical or observant of the Christian calendar. By that, I mean we didn’t do much beyond celebrating Christmas or Easter. Oh, don’t get me wrong, we made a big to-do about those days. But as a church, we didn’t talk much about Lent or Advent anyway. Ash Wednesday was for the Catholics, and Pentecost, well, that sounded too Charismatic. As I have gotten older, I have found a much deeper appreciation for those things. All that to say, I don’t remember us having Good Friday services or marking the observance, beyond usually having the day off school.

I find it kind of odd... For so much of my Christian experience, it seemed like we made a big deal of the Cross on Easter, rather than the Empty Tomb. I mean, they are both essential elements of our faith. I guess it’s like arguing over which is more important, Christmas or Easter. I am sorry to have opened this theological can of worms before I’ve finished my coffee.

Our congregation isn’t having a Good Friday Service today. Although it was my call, I kind of wish we did, just because I think we need that reminder. On Sunday, we will gather and sing “He Lives” and “Up From the Grave He Arose”, and we will share in the joy of Resurrection. I will preach on how the resurrection of Jesus Christ changes everything. But today? Today I need to remember what Jesus went through for me... what He went through for you.

And so, for this week’s Pastor’s Porch, I just want to leave you with these scriptures: The Gospel of Luke, starting in Chapter 22:66 and going through Chapter 23—

66 At daybreak all the elders of the people assembled, including the leading priests and the teachers of religious law. Jesus was led before this high council, 67 and they said, “Tell us, are you the Messiah?”

But he replied, “If I tell you, you won’t believe me. 68 And if I ask you a question, you won’t answer. 69 But from now on the Son of Man will be seated in the place of power at God’s right hand.”

70 They all shouted, “So, are you claiming to be the Son of God?”

And he replied, “You say that I am.”

71 “Why do we need other witnesses?” they said. “We ourselves heard him say it.”

Chapter 23

Jesus’ Trial before Pilate

Then the entire council took Jesus to Pilate, the Roman governor. 2 They began to state their case: “This man has been leading our people astray by telling them not to pay their taxes to the Roman government and by claiming he is the Messiah, a king.”

3 So Pilate asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

Jesus replied, “You have said it.”

4 Pilate turned to the leading priests and to the crowd and said, “I find nothing wrong with this man!”

5 Then they became insistent. “But he is causing riots by his teaching wherever he goes—all over Judea, from Galilee to Jerusalem!”

6 “Oh, is he a Galilean?” Pilate asked. 7 When they said that he was, Pilate sent him to Herod Antipas, because Galilee was under Herod’s jurisdiction, and Herod happened to be in Jerusalem at the time.

8 Herod was delighted at the opportunity to see Jesus, because he had heard about him and had been hoping for a long time to see him perform a miracle. 9 He asked Jesus question after question, but Jesus refused to answer. 10 Meanwhile, the leading priests and the teachers of religious law stood there shouting their accusations. 11 Then Herod and his soldiers began mocking and ridiculing Jesus. Finally, they put a royal robe on him and sent him back to Pilate. 12 (Herod and Pilate, who had been enemies before, became friends that day.)

13 Then Pilate called together the leading priests and other religious leaders, along with the people, 14 and he announced his verdict. “You brought this man to me, accusing him of leading a revolt. I have examined him thoroughly on this point in your presence and find him innocent. 15 Herod came to the same conclusion and sent him back to us. Nothing this man has done calls for the death penalty. 16 So I will have him flogged, and then I will release him.”

18 Then a mighty roar rose from the crowd, and with one voice they shouted, “Kill him, and release Barabbas to us!” 19 (Barabbas was in prison for taking part in an insurrection in Jerusalem against the government, and for murder.) 20 Pilate argued with them, because he wanted to release Jesus. 21 But they kept shouting, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

22 For the third time he demanded, “Why? What crime has he committed? I have found no reason to sentence him to death. So I will have him flogged, and then I will release him.”

23 But the mob shouted louder and louder, demanding that Jesus be crucified, and their voices prevailed. 24 So Pilate sentenced Jesus to die as they demanded. 25 As they had requested, he released Barabbas, the man in prison for insurrection and murder. But he turned Jesus over to them to do as they wished.

The Crucifixion

26 As they led Jesus away, a man named Simon, who was from Cyrene, happened to be coming in from the countryside. The soldiers seized him and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. 27 A large crowd trailed behind, including many grief-stricken women. 28 But Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, don’t weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. 29 For the days are coming when they will say, ‘Fortunate indeed are the women who are childless, the wombs that have not borne a child and the breasts that have never nursed.’ 30 People will beg the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and plead with the hills, ‘Bury us.’ 31 For if these things are done when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

32 Two others, both criminals, were led out to be executed with him. 33 When they came to a place called The Skull, they nailed him to the cross. And the criminals were also crucified—one on his right and one on his left.

34 Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” And the soldiers gambled for his clothes by throwing dice.

35 The crowd watched and the leaders scoffed. “He saved others,” they said, “let him save himself if he is really God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.” 36 The soldiers mocked him, too, by offering him a drink of sour wine. 37 They called out to him, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” 38 A sign was fastened above him with these words: “This is the King of the Jews.”

39 One of the criminals hanging beside him scoffed, “So you’re the Messiah, are you? Prove it by saving yourself—and us, too, while you’re at it!”

40 But the other criminal protested, “Don’t you fear God even when you have been sentenced to die? 41 We deserve to die for our crimes, but this man hasn’t done anything wrong.” 42 Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

43 And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

The Death of Jesus

44 By this time it was about noon, and darkness fell across the whole land until three o’clock. 45 The light from the sun was gone. And suddenly, the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn down the middle. 46 Then Jesus shouted, “Father, I entrust my spirit into your hands!” And with those words he breathed his last.

47 When the Roman officer overseeing the execution saw what had happened, he worshiped God and said, “Surely this man was innocent.” 48 And when all the crowd that came to see the crucifixion saw what had happened, they went home in deep sorrow. 49 But Jesus’ friends, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance watching.

The Burial of Jesus

50 Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph. He was a member of the Jewish high council, 51 but he had not agreed with the decision and actions of the other religious leaders. He was from the town of Arimathea in Judea, and he was waiting for the Kingdom of God to come. 52 He went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. 53 Then he took the body down from the cross and wrapped it in a long sheet of linen cloth and laid it in a new tomb that had been carved out of rock. 54 This was done late on Friday afternoon, the day of preparation, as the Sabbath was about to begin.

55 As his body was taken away, the women from Galilee followed and saw the tomb where his body was placed. 56 Then they went home and prepared spices and ointments to anoint his body. But by the time they were finished the Sabbath had begun, so they rested as required by the law.

The message of hope was gone and snuffed out. Light appeared to have been conquered by darkness. Why, oh why, would this day be called good? Why would we celebrate the death of our king?

Because on this day, God would turn His back on His Son so that He would never have to turn His back on us.

On this day, God the Son took our sins upon Himself that we might be forgiven.

He took all the shame, the guilt of every sin we could ever commit, and He bore it. He dealt with something that we could never have.

He died to make an end to all our sin.

Because the sinless Savior died, our sinful souls are counted free. God, the Just is Satisfied. Our debt is paid.

Isaiah 53 says:

4 Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down.

And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins!

5 But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins.

He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed.

Will you pray with me?

Father, we thank You for Jesus. Thank You for turning Your back on Him that we might be forgiven and have a relationship with You.

Lord, I pray You would convict us of sin. Remind us of how serious it is. And remind us You came to die to destroy sin. And so when we are reminded of our sin, may we remember the words of Jesus: IT IS FINISHED.

Lord, in our lives, we face a tomb. We have challenges, griefs, and hurts. But remind us that Sunday is coming.

Lord, we await Your coming and proclaim Your death until that day.

Amen.

Have a Blessed Good Friday!
And Remember, SUNDAY IS COMING!

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With Spring officially having sprung, we’re well on our way to Easter. This coming Sunday is Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. And I don’t know if it’s the fact that Easter is coming or the fact that my playlist has been heavy on some of my dad’s favorites, or something like that, but my dad has been on my mind a lot. It’s been almost 9 months since Dad died.

As I’ve shared before, my dad could be a difficult person to have a relationship with. I was about as close to him as I think someone could be. He wasn’t a follower of Christ, and for most of my life, the last few years especially, that was the primary concern. Dad didn’t have a good quality of life, and frankly, much of that was his own choosing. After he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, I mainly wanted him to know Jesus and form some core memories for his grandchildren.

The day he died, I was waiting in the emergency room to go back and see him, as he had been brought in from the nursing home complaining of chest pains and low oxygen numbers. When I got back to his room, he was getting a CT scan done to check for any kind of internal hemorrhage, and was told he’d be right back. As he was wheeled into the room, the tech told me he must have just dozed off. “Dad,” I tried to wake him, but I knew something was off. He wasn’t breathing, and after I shook him, his eyes opened briefly, and he gasped for air, but he wasn’t really there. He was coding, dying right in front of me.

The nurse went out and yelled for the team, and the doc and crew went right away to work on my dad. I had seen people die before and asked if I could stay right outside the room, and I am so glad they did. For what seemed like 30 minutes, but was probably more like 15, they worked to stabilize and then “bring back” dad. His heart was rapidly failing, and they began chest compressions. That is a sight that I simply will never be able to erase from my memory.

My mother, a nurse of over 50 years, was on speaker phone discussing options and medical history with the doctor as they decided to try a couple more times. My brother and I conference-called with Mom. Mom asked what I wanted, and I said, “I just want Dad to trust Jesus and then go.” We thought we’d be able to get him stable and maybe on life support for a few hours, for everyone to say goodbye. But his body couldn’t do it.

The doctor came out and said to me and my family on the phone that they wanted to try one more time. We consented. I went in and stood at his bedside as they were able to get a faint heartbeat. The doctor said it wouldn’t be long and showed me the ultrasound of his heart. It was barely beating with one side seemingly already gone. My brother said his goodbye via the phone, which I placed up to dad’s ear.

I told dad I loved him, and tried to quote John 3:16 between tears, and I told him that he knew the Gospel, that he needed to trust in Jesus. Somehow, in all that, I felt Dad gently squeeze my hand. Right then, his heart stopped. The doctor showed me the ultrasound. No activity. Dad was gone.

I tried to rationalize the squeeze I felt. Maybe it was his Parkinson’s. Maybe a final muscle spasm as his body shut down. My mother and the doctor told me those sorts of movements don’t usually happen and that Parkinson’s tremors don’t squeeze. Sometimes I even doubt myself... Maybe I invented the squeeze. Maybe my mind played tricks on me.

And even if that squeeze did happen, I will never know this side of eternity what it meant. Was it saying that he had accepted Christ at the last possible moment? Was he telling me he loved me? Was he simply letting me know that inside his failing body, he was still there? I simply do not know. But in that not knowing, there is still hope. Hope that my father, in his state, accepted the sacrifice that Christ made on his behalf. Hope that someday I will see my father again, in the presence of our heavenly Father. And that hope? Well, for now it must be enough.

Honestly? Sometimes Satan and self whisper to me that I am a failure as a pastor and as a Christian. What kind of minister couldn’t even make sure that their own father was a follower of Christ? How bad of a witness must my life have been that my dad didn’t want to experience the same new life I had found in Christ? I don’t share that to elicit your sympathy, but to let you know that I, too have those moments. But I was there. And that counts for something, right? I told him. I loved him. And I did my best to model a godly son, though I know I wasn’t perfect.

As I think about dad, I also find myself thinking back to a familiar passage of scripture, John 11, where Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. I don’t find answers in this passage, but rather Someone to sit with me in these moments.

I won’t share all of John 11. You can read it by clicking here. But just a few reminders. One of Jesus’ closest friends was very ill, and when Jesus heard about it, instead of rushing to Lazarus’ bedside to heal him, Jesus waited until Lazarus had died before he headed to the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha.

Did you catch that? He intentionally delayed. The very God who made the universe, who had healed people and done incredible miracles, who had all knowledge, was made aware of the suffering of His friends and decided to wait. Now this wasn’t out of cruelty, He knew what He was doing. He knew that what would ultimately happen was for the glory of God. And so, Lazarus died.

And then Martha and Mary, two of Jesus’ very best friends, confront Him when He arrives. They each told Him, “Jesus, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.” I always find that interesting, chastising Jesus yet also expressing faith in His ability to work wonders. And Jesus gets to the tomb, and He weeps. God Almighty, who knows He is about to do a miracle, weeps.

Now, some commentators have much hay about why, in their opinion, He weeps. I think it’s rather simple: He cares. His friends are grieving. He is saddened as well. He is moved with compassion, and He weeps.

Before Jesus does the miracle, He experiences the same emotions that we do. He knew resurrection was coming. He knew Lazarus had faith in Him, and still... He weeps.

I do not know what happened with my father’s soul in his final moments. I don’t have the answers that I wish I had. My older kids have asked me if they’ll see Pappy in Heaven, and well, I have to tell them that I don’t know. I have hope, but I don’t know. I wish to God that I knew. But I don’t.

But I do know this: I am not alone in my grief.

The same Jesus who stood outside Lazarus’ tomb and wept meets us in our sorrows.

And Jesus offers us real hope.

Easter is coming up in less than 2 weeks.

And Easter doesn’t ignore death... It answers it head-on. At the raising of Lazarus, Jesus demonstrated that He was stronger than death, but on that Resurrection morning, Jesus defeated death once and for all. Lazarus was a sign. Jesus’ resurrection is the guarantee.

And that? That is hope worth holding on to.

I still have questions.

I still, 9 months later, keep replaying that day over and over in my mind.

I still wonder what that squeeze meant.

But I also have hope. No, not hope because my dad was a good man. No, not hope because I have it all figured out. No, I have hope because Christ walked out of the grave. And the Savior who weeps with us in our sorrow is the same Risen Savior who walked out of the tomb that Sunday morning all those years ago.

And someday, if we’ve trusted in Him, we’ll be with Him in a place of no more tears and no more doubts, where we will see God.

And because He lives, even our unanswered questions are not without hope.

🪑 Porchside Update

It’s been a reflective stretch for me lately. Between the changing of the seasons, Holy Week approaching, and just the normal rhythms of ministry, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about life, loss, and the people God has placed in our lives.

The neighbors mowed this past weekend. That means it’s time to get ours taken care of soon. It’s always a contest to see who mows first. This year, that definitely won’t be us. The kids have been playing outside just about every day, from hide-and-go-seek to jumping on the trampoline. I love that they love the outdoors.

I spoke last Sunday at a local Lutheran Church right after worship at Bethany Church. It’s a completely different type of service, and I have to say, as someone who grew up without any formalized liturgy, I enjoy it. Though I struggle at times. I was told that someday I’ll make a good Lutheran. :)

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Grief has a way of isolating us, but often we’re not as alone as we think.

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🔁 What You May Have Missed

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Grace & Peace,
Adam

I used to say that I loved all seasons the same, but the older I get, t…

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Thanks for taking some time to sit with me on the porch this morning.

A story sticks in my mind from a few weeks ago. One evening, on my way home from work, I had to stop and get some gas. I think we have an unspoken agreement: in public, when you’re doing the thing you have to do, you don’t make eye contact, and you don’t speak to people. This is the rule when you’re using a public restroom and when you’re at the gas pump. I don’t know who instituted the rule; I am not aware of a convention that made the rule. I just know that it is the rule.

Perhaps, if we feel rebellious, we might break the rule and smile at people as we pass by, as we enter the store, and they are leaving, or vice versa. If we feel really untethered to societal norms, we’ll even say, “Have a good day,” but that can be dangerous… or so we seem to think.

Well, that evening at the gas pump, I was watching my dollars go into my tank when I saw a young man across the pump finish a conversation with another driver and get into his truck. As he did, I heard no engine roar to life. Nope, instead it was the dreaded click of a battery not working properly. Usually, I feel helpless in such situations because I know as much about vehicles as I do about nuclear fusion—that is to say, not much.

After he popped the hood and fiddled with the truck, he came back, and it turned over just fine. As he walked back from closing the hood, I said, “That sounds a lot better than the clicking. I was about to offer a jump if you needed it.”

“Yeah, thanks. This is Dad’s truck, and the battery has a loose terminal. It’s better than my little S10 back at the house, though. It’s in ice and won’t start at all.”

I nodded as if I knew what gibberish he was speaking. We wished each other a good night, and that was that.

As he drove off, I said a prayer for his safety and that God would put people in his path to someday have a gospel conversation with him, and that if he didn’t know Christ, he would someday follow Jesus.

I didn’t place a tract in his hands.
I didn’t offer to pray with him.
I didn’t explain the Gospel to him in under three minutes.

All of which I suppose I could have done. Maybe I should have. But I didn’t.

There was a time when I would have felt incredible shame in not having done a full-on Gospel presentation. I mean, what if I were the one who was supposed to share Jesus with him before he died in an accident on the way home?

Don’t we have some responsibility for the outcomes? I mean, if I preach an evangelistic sermon to a crowd with dozens of non-believers and no one responds, doesn’t that mean I did something wrong? If I pastor a church and we don’t hit a growth goal, we’ve dropped the ball, right? If my kids don’t grow up to follow Jesus with their whole hearts, haven’t I messed up?

Or what if I missed the one opportunity to talk to Aunt Lucy about her salvation? What if, what if, what if…

Sometimes as Christians we can feel a tremendous amount of pressure. We see the complacency of some and figure we need to make up for lost time and lazy Christians. “No one else is doing it, so I have to!” And while we can admire that sort of zeal, this comes from a theological error.

You see, somewhere along the way, many of us started acting like the Kingdom of God depends on us.

“Now hold on a minute, Adam, God calls us! He gives us work to do!” I hear you loud and clear. Trust me, I do. Just give me a second to explain what I’m getting at.

There are times when we begin to think of ourselves as the Savior. Oh, we might not put it in those terms, but our behaviors and anxieties bear it out. “I have to do this.” “If I don’t, then this will never be done.” And it can get to the point that we seem to become more essential to God’s mission than God Himself!

Here’s a truth that a wise friend told me long ago: We aren’t the Savior. Jesus already did the saving. We are simply the witnesses.

In Matthew 16:18, Jesus says that Peter and the Apostles will build the Church, right? Wrong. Jesus says, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”

So whose job is it to build the Church? Jesus.

You think you can do better than Him?

But I know some who believe that. Again, their theology is revealed by their actions. I know a minister who likes to “prime the pump” during funerals. What I mean by that is this: He asks everyone to bow their heads and close their eyes. He then asks if anyone wants to get saved and “go to heaven when they die.” Not a hard sell at a funeral, and I’m not entirely opposed to it.

What plain old ticks me off is when no one raises a hand (I confess, I’m looking through squinted eyes), he calls out, “Yes, I see that hand. And this hand over there.” And no hands have been raised. Not one.

It’s called priming the pump because you’re preparing emotional people to make a commitment.

I call it manipulation—or lying. Maybe both.

To lie about people coming to faith so you can “make it easier” for others? Cheap grace and easy-believism aside, this is just vile. It denies the sufficiency of the Gospel. And if it gets results, it has to make you question the validity of those decisions.

But I am sure that this preacher does it because he feels a duty to win souls to the Lord.

About 15 years ago, while serving my first congregation, I had a woman ask me what it meant to be saved, or born again. We pastors love this question! And so in the church lobby before a Sunday evening service, I explained the Gospel and what it meant to follow Christ. She was ready to follow Jesus! How exciting!

So we prayed together, and because she didn’t know how to pray, I led her in a prayer (I rarely do this anymore), and she prayed to become part of God’s family right then and there.

The next Sunday morning, she got up and shared what God had done. And she said, “I wasn’t sure if I was saved, but last Sunday night, Pastor Adam saved me.”

Now, I knew what she meant. She meant I helped lead her to the Lord, and she didn’t know how to express it better. But man, I was quick to say, “Praise the Lord for His salvation. He is the one who saves us.”

You see, we don’t do the saving. We do the witnessing. We don’t sanctify people. That’s the work of God.

In 1 Corinthians 3:6, Paul says, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.”

You see, Paul wanted them to know that no person is responsible for the results. We are responsible for our part, but at the end of the day, the results are up to God. It is He who does the work, gives the growth, and accomplishes the mission.

Friends, opportunities look different. Sometimes you have an opportunity to have a Gospel conversation. Other times, you might just be needed as a listening ear. Maybe it’s you saying a prayer for that person even when they’re not around. And sometimes the opportunity is a simple act of kindness.

People who study this sort of thing tell us that it often takes 5–7 exposures to the Gospel before someone responds. It may be that you’re the first or the last and get to see something amazing take place. Or you could just be number three.

Don’t think of what you do as a failure because you don’t see visible results. Maybe me

just smiling and saying hi at the gas station was just one of those.

Now, lest you think I am some cold-hearted fatalist, let me reassure you. We’re not minimizing evangelism. We have a privilege and a duty to share our faith. There should be a sense of urgency about people coming to faith in Christ.

But there shouldn’t be a sense of pressure to perform.

Faithfulness isn’t being passive.
But it’s not panic either.

Folks, we don’t have to save the world. Jesus has already come to do that. But we can be faithful in the moment God gives us.

Don’t feel overwhelmed with guilt or a sense of panic…
But ask yourself:

Where might God be inviting me to be faithful this week?

🪑 Porchside Update

I am thankful to be on the mend from pneumonia. Thank you for the prayers and messages wishing me a speedy recovery. Still having trouble catching my breath, but boy, do I feel much better than I did a week ago!

At Bethany Church, we’re drawing to the end of our series “The Parables of Jesus,” and this past Sunday, I preached on the Unforgiving Servant. You can find that message on YouTube here. This Sunday, I’ll finish the series by talking about the wise and foolish builders. Then it’s Palm Sunday and Easter. Wow. Hard to believe that it is already upon us.

The weather this March has been insane. What’s the old saying? In like a lion, out like a lamb? Well, what if March is a lion the whole month? Crazy amounts of rain, near record high temperatures, and the wind! Sunday, it was 82 at my house, and less than 24 hours later, it was 32 degrees and snowing (that’s Fahrenheit for my Celsius friends).

📬 On the Porch (Call to Share & Subscribe)

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🔁 What You May Have Missed

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Grace & Peace,
Adam

Well, minus Aunt Phyllis, I’ve had one of those weeks. Yes, on Sunday, we had the dreaded “Spring Forward” time change, which I have a particular loathing for. As a pastor, I always get anxious around events on the calendar that tend to lessen church attendance. I know it’s petty, and I know that numbers don’t necessarily equate to what God is doing. But I’ll be honest enough to say that low numbers on Sunday, especially when we’re trying to see a church turn around, are discouraging to me. So naturally, I don’t look forward to “Spring Forward” Sunday.

Sunday came, and I felt horrible. I figured it was a combination of a lingering cough I had and less sleep than usual, but let me tell ya, that was a rough Sunday morning. Worst one I had in a while. I felt like my brain was short-circuiting and that I wasn’t communicating clearly. I felt like I wasn’t connecting at all with the congregation. I couldn’t wait to crawl back into bed when I got home and pull the blankets over my head.

And then the coughing just got worse. I was so short of breath, I didn’t want to move. Just stay there, in bed, and hope that somehow I would wake up on Monday feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. But on Monday, I could barely get up. After dropping the kids off at school, Christina took me to Urgent Care, where I was diagnosed with a nasty bout of pneumonia. As an asthmatic, I can get bronchitis and pneumonia relatively easily, but I hadn’t felt this bad in a while. So I spent Monday through Wednesday in a routine of breathing treatments, steroids, chair, and bed. Oh, and still not able to catch my breath.

It’s Thursday now, and thanks for hanging with me through my ordeal. I’m feeling some better, and will go in to work today.

I was doing some reflecting late last night and early this morning about how even during difficult weeks, God is good to us, and still with us. And that often those difficult moments aren’t as bad as we make them out to be. Let me illustrate. Yes, our attendance was down almost 25% on Sunday. But we also had two first-time guests! And I apparently was connecting as one person, who rarely gives feedback, told me how much the message touched them. Those are wins in my book.

And at home, even though our youngest, Vivian, was also diagnosed with pneumonia, we’ve been blessed with some quality family time and good conversations with my kids that might not have happened otherwise.

Look, I’m not trying to sugarcoat and pretend the last 5 days have been a vacation. But what I’m learning is that the God who is with us in good times is still with us in difficult times. Yes, I’ve known that in my head, and even in my heart... but this last week. Well, it’s been a good reminder.

Porchside Update

The Pastor’s Porch came late again this week, and is much shorter than usual, but hey, if you got this far, you understand why. Thanks for sticking with me, in sickness and in health… At least that’s what I tell my wife.

As always, I appreciate your comments, shares, and likes. I enjoy the follow-up conversations these porch visits often lead to, so please feel free to reach out to me.

And consider this your regular reminder to share and subscribe to this publication so you never miss a Pastor’s Porch.

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Grace and Peace,

Adam Will

March is finally here, meaning that there will be even more uncertainty with the weather. I am sure that in the next 26 days, I will have to mow the yard, sweep snow off the steps, and take a detour due to high water. Such is life when you live in Southeastern Ohio, but I don’t know that I would have it any other way. My sinuses, well, they’re singing a different tune.

I have tried to write this week’s Pastor’s Porch what seems to be at least a dozen times, in my head anyway, and each time I get going, I seem to hit a wall. Writer’s block or what have you. And that’s difficult because I feel like I have a lot to say. Ask my mother, and she’ll tell you that I’ve ALWAYS had a lot to say, so I guess not much has changed there.

No, I don’t mean to suggest that I’m a windbag. I do a fair bit of listening and reading, too. But when I read something moving, or hear something that affects me, or see people struggling, something in me just sort of wells up. Like, I have to say something. Sometimes it means speaking up for someone, sometimes it means speaking out about something. And sometimes it simply means asking someone how I can pray for them. I mean, someone has to say something. Better yet, someone has to do something… right?

In Isaiah 6, in the year the King Uzziah died, we find Isaiah in the Lord’s temple, and he sees the Lord. This totally undid Isaiah. It’s safe to say it would do that to you and me as well, the glory of God filling a space and seeing angelic beings. In that moment, confronted with the very presence and glory of God, Isaiah wasn’t able to fake it or pretend. He confessed that he was a sinful man in the midst of sinful people. And so an angel touched his lips with a hot coal (ouch!) and cleansed him from sin.

And in this moment of worship, this earthshaking encounter, Isaiah heard the Lord ask, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Who will go and tell? Who will be a messenger and share the glory of God with those who have not seen it? And Isaiah says, “Here I am! Send me!”

Okay, confession time. Sometimes when I come home from work, and I see my wife struggling with the kids, I’ll offer to help with something, only to not really mean it. Now, before you cancel that subscription or write me off, you’ve done something similar, too, I’m sure. You feel like you should do something, but you really don’t want to, and so you make a half-hearted offer of assistance, hoping for an “oh, I got it” in response. Shame on you. Shame on me.

I don’t think that was the experience of Isaiah here. He didn’t look behind him to see if anyone else was there, volunteering only because no one else raised their hand. We don’t hear the theme music from Final Jeopardy playing as Isaiah considers his answer. He just seems to be like the math whiz from elementary school who is just DYING to tell you that 6 x 7 is 42 (at least I think it is). Just a note: I was never that kid in math. Social studies, yes, but not in math. But anyway.

No, Isaiah was eager to say, here I am, Lord! Put me in the game! Sign me up! I’ll do it! Something has to be done.

And if you read what God says next, the call seems to lose its luster quickly.

“Go and say to these people: Keep on hearing but do not understand; keep on seeing, but do not perceive. Make the heart of this people dull and their ears heavy and blind their eyes.”

Umm, excuse me, God, did I hear you right? I’m going to be your messenger, and I am supposed to put them to sleep? To cause them to understand you LESS?

This is not the career I signed up for…

And I’m not about to call myself a prophet, but I will say that when you sense that God has placed a burden on you, to be someone who shares His word, or be a witness for Him, it is heart wrenching seeing people seemingly nod in agreement with what God would have you say, only to not live that out and encounter hurt after hurt.

Sometimes it seems like you are standing alongside the road, warning that the bridge ahead is out, flashing your lights, honking your horn, and people just smile and wave, mouth an “okay! Thanks!” and keep going forward. It can be disheartening when it seems like only a few heed the warning, and even more so when even fewer answer the call to go back a mile or two and warn others.

So why do we do it? I’m not just talking to or about “professional” ministers here, but Christians in general. Why do we do it?

First, let’s deal with some of the unhealthy reasons. Sometimes we do it because we need to be needed. We don’t have a healthy sense of self-worth, and so we do this to either earn respect and admiration, or for people to think how great we are. Then some are grifters; they take advantage of people’s desire for transcendental meaning and, like a parasite, suck people dry. And like so many other professions, some do it simply because they are good at it and have a knack for it, even though their heart may not be in it.

These are bad reasons. And yet, many of those I know in Christian “Service” have struggled with one of them. Usually, the first and the last ones. Thankfully, I have met few grifters, but those I have, I despise.

But I think that most of us are nuanced people, never completely the hero or the villain in our story, so I like to think that we have some good reasons, right?

I suppose now would be a good time to mention some of the better reasons we carry the burdens God gives us.

The truest and simplest answer is this: we carry them because, in some real way, we have seen the Lord. Okay, so maybe not visually, and not completely, of course, but enough to know who He is and what He has done. We have seen His mercy toward us when we least deserved it. We have watched His patience with us in seasons when we were stubborn, distracted, or afraid. We have lived long enough to recognize His steady hand in moments when we thought we would not make it through.

Once you begin to see Him like that, something settles deep inside you. You find that you are not speaking because you are especially bold or naturally confident, but because you are convinced and convicted. Conviction has a way of anchoring a person. You get this persistent feeling, like something you cannot shake. A person keeps coming to mind. A situation lingers in prayer. A passage of Scripture refuses to leave you alone. Often, that is how the burden begins.

Over time, you also realize that these burdens are rarely abstract. They are almost always attached to people. Not ideas or issues floating somewhere out there, but faces you know and stories you know all too well. A friend who seems to be unraveling. A young person drifting farther than they realize. A marriage growing strained in ways no one else can quite see. A congregation hurting beneath the surface. Love makes you notice what others overlook, and once you begin to notice, it becomes difficult to look away. That is where much of the weight comes from. The burdens Christ gives us are deeply relational, often inconvenient, and almost always costly. And yet they are sacred, because love keeps them from hardening us into cynicism or turning us inward.

In time, perhaps the hardest lesson we learn is that the burden God gives is rarely tied to visible results. Isaiah’s call was not ultimately a call to measurable success, but to faithfulness. And in some ways, that has been true for many of us as well. There are prayers offered, and tears shed without visible change. There are conversations where people nod politely and continue on as before. There are warnings offered gently and sincerely that go largely unheeded. It can be so disheartening if we believe we are responsible for the outcome.

But somewhere along the way, we begin to understand that we are not responsible for how others respond. We are responsible for our obedience. That realization does not remove the burden, but it does steady us beneath it.

So what do we do with the burdens God entrusts to us? We carry them, and we carry them back to Him again and again. We let them draw us toward prayer instead of anxiety, toward tenderness instead of frustration. And we remember that the greatest burden ever carried was not ours, but His. Jesus did not simply carry a message; He carried a cross. Every burden we carry in His name rests within the larger story of His mercy and redemption.

If you find yourself feeling the weight of something these days—a person, a calling, a grief, or simply a sense that God is asking something of you—you are not strange, and you are not weak. More often than not, you are simply paying attention. And if the Lord has placed something on your heart, He will also give you the grace you need to carry it faithfully.

Here, we don’t pretend the load is light, but we believe that the burden is worth carrying.

Porchside Update

Yes, I know… The Pastor’s Porch is supposed to go live on Mondays. But hey, last week it went out on Friday, and today it’s going out on Thursday morning. We’re moving in the right direction!

Our two youngest have been sick this past week with some virus. Parents, you understand the not-so-merry-go-round that is illness this time of year. I will be happy when we’re out of that season.

I was recently made a chaplain of one of our local volunteer fire departments. I’ve responded to calls before during a previous chaplaincy, and it always amazes me how these guys and gals drop everything to go help their neighbors. I showed up at a large brush fire last week and saw folks from multiple departments working together almost seamlessly to accomplish the mission. The church could learn a lot from that.

With the first week of March soon to be over, I’m shifting into Easter Preparations. What is your church or ministry doing for the Lent and Easter seasons? As a church going through a revitalization, Bethany is keeping it simple, but hopefully profound.

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Thank You for Being Here

I’m grateful for each of you who continues to spend time here on the porch. Whether you’ve been reading for a long time or just recently pulled up a chair, thank you for your kindness, your encouragement, and your prayers. More than anything, I hope these reflections continue to serve you quietly and faithfully in your own walk with Christ.

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Grace and peace to you this week.

Well, in real life, identity is also revealed by the evidence, only I’m not talking about fingerprints and DNA swabs. No, more than a license number or address, I’m talking about who you really are. If someone were to do a CSI-level investigation of your life, what would the evidence say? Who are you?

The Sons of Sceva

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene... Er, I mean Ephesus, in Acts 19:11-20, we find Paul ministering. Ephesus was the big apple of the Roman province of Asia, the biggest port city on the Aegean, and where Paul would spend 3 years in ministry (the longest of any one location while not in prison). God was doing amazing things through Paul, such that even the clothes he touched were endowed with healing power.

But none of this was Paul. Verse 11 says, “God was doing extraordinary miracles...” God was at work, and real power was displayed through the name of Jesus.

Some non-believing Jewish preachers and exorcists saw that the name of Jesus had power, and so they began to rebuke evil spirits, saying, “I adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul proclaims.” Did you catch that last part? Not the Lord Jesus, or Jesus the Messiah. No invocation of deity, but the invocation of a 3rd party. The Jesus that Paul talks about.

And so the seven sons of Sceva, a Jewish priest, were doing this. You see, they had no relationship with Christ; they weren’t part of the church, but maybe a different faction. No. These guys were “borrowing” the Lord for their own means. They saw that Jesus was a means to their desired end. This is not the first time people desired the power Jesus has over demonic forces (see the story of Simon the Sorcerer in Acts 8), and sadly, it would not be the last. We see it even today in the evil false teachers of the prosperity gospel.

But one day, these guys got more than they bargained for. Their imitation may have pulled the wool over some people, but not the evil spirits they were attempting to cast out. The spirit answered them and said, “Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize, but who are you?” The demon-possessed man then attacked them, and they fled out of the house naked and wounded. They were publicly humiliated for trying to proclaim something they didn’t have themselves.

You cannot borrow someone else’s relationship with Jesus. You see, authority, popularity, and even favorability all collapse without authenticity.

The Danger of “Facade Christianity”

Authenticity is a word that is heavily overused today in marketing and promotion. Good luck finding a book—nay, a paragraph—without that word in a book written in the last 5 years. But just as there is a reason clichés become clichés, there are reasons words become overused.

Authenticity, being real, is so important. Why? Well, it’s nothing new. Humanity has always decried intentional hypocrisy. We’ve always valued people who don’t just talk the talk but who also walk the walk. And today, with all the filters on our photos, and especially with artificial intelligence taking over seemingly everything, we just want to find something that is true, real, and genuine.

The problem is, we’re addicted to faking it. And then we dare to appear shocked when others are discovered to be doing the same. The sons of Sceva stick out to me as people who said good words, but they didn’t know what they were talking about. That tells me that having a “Christian” vocabulary, you know, saying the right words, knowing the lingo, is not the same as being a follower of Jesus.

It also tells us that activity for God—these guys were, after all, trying to cast out demons— doesn’t mean you know God, or that you have a strong relationship with Him. I knew of a delightful person who was trying to start a speaking and writing gig, claiming to be “real in a fake-filled world,” only to later to discover that they were having a long-term affair, keeping it a secret from everyone around them. “Real” indeed. Real fake.

Someone can preach a hundred sermons, and they can sound really good, but that doesn’t mean that they have a healthy relationship with God. You can train your voice. You can convince people with words and gestures. Actors and Actresses do it all the time. They can be convincing, but at the end of the performance, they get out of character. Some who claim to follow Jesus stay in costume a little longer.

Now, let me clear something up lest I lead you to the wrong conclusion. Not every person who is hypocritical—and we all have been at one time or another—does so with ill intent. There ARE wolves in sheep’s clothing out there trying to hurt and damage God’s flock, to fleece them, if you will. But some people have relatively good intentions, but they’re just not practicing what they preach, or smoking what they’re selling.

The point of this article isn’t so much to call attention to the false teachers and bad shepherds. Yes, mark and avoid them. But what I really want you to hear from my heart is how inauthenticity, or facade Christianity, isn’t just damaging to your own walk with Christ… It’s damaging to the world around you.

When you deny your struggles to others, you’ve also denied yourself a prayer partner or someone who will stand in the gap for you.

When you pretend to have it all figured out, you also miss out on the opportunity to support and encourage others.

When you pretend your marriage is fine, you cause others who are ready to admit they don’t have it figured out to hide their struggles because they won’t feel mature.

When you pretend your prayer life is strong instead of being a struggle, it builds a barrier of intimidation for people to approach you about their own prayer life.

When you act like you have all the answers, people aren’t more likely to come to you for advice; they feel that you are so above them that you’ve become unapproachable. It then becomes no longer about ministry, but about status.

And look, I know how easy it is to polish the outside while neglecting the inside. It is easier to post a scripture image on social media than it is to read a paragraph in your Bible and really wrestle with what God is trying to get across. It is easier to go to a church building than it is to be the Church every day.

Imagine

Imagine the kind of revival we would experience, both personally and as the body of Christ, if we dropped the mask and quit the fakery.

Imagine leaders who confess their shortcomings instead of putting themselves, or allowing others to place them, on a pedestal.

Think about the change if churchgoers would ask for prayer instead of feigning strength.

Consider the impact of a testimony that isn’t just the highlights but includes the struggles that came before the victory.

Think about the impact we could have if instead of shaming weakness, we learned to embrace each other and bear one another’s burdens.

You see, in the small towns and rural areas like those I pastor in, people already know if we’re real or not. They can spot a fake from a mile away. They’ve watched us, and they can tell if there is real transformation in our lives or if itjust seems to be the glitz and glamor of a well-done social media post.

And there is a lot more at stake than just what people think of us. If we fake it, we dishonor the name of Christ Jesus, and it will lead others to think the Gospel is as fake as we are. But if we’re honest, we’ll be masterpieces of God’s grace that will shine the light of the Father upon the lives of others.

Friends, let’s resolve to live honestly, dare I say “authentically” before the Father and the world we live in. It’s worth it not just to ourselves, but to our walk with Christ and witness before others.

🪑 Porchside Update

It’s been a long week here in Southeast Ohio. At least in the Will House. Somehow, earlier this week, I managed to twist my ankle in my sleep (I’ve done this several times now), and I’ve been hobbling around ever since.

At Bethany Church, we’re in a series on the Parables of Jesus, which will take us right up to Palm Sunday and Easter. These stories that Jesus tells are so familiar, but so chock-full of spiritual truth. It’s a great refresher for some, while for others, it’s the perfect introduction to the teachings and person of Jesus Christ. You can check out our latest message on our YouTube Channel here.

I’m really excited to share that my second guest article appeared on Karl Vater’s blog. You should check it out by clicking here. In it, I share some of the surprising strengths of rural churches, which are often looked down on in a numbers-obsessed world.

I know I’ve drifted the last several posts away from Monday morning posts. I hope to have Monday’s post ready to go out to you first thing next week so you can enjoy it with your favorite morning beverage.

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Thank you for reading. Thank you for walking honestly.

Let’s drop the mask and follow Jesus for real.

Grace & Peace,

Adam Will