Today was such a horrible day in human history–the day we killed and executed God. If there is anything humans have ever done that would make us deserving of eternal hell, today fits the bill. If anyone needs proof that we are really a depraved people, the fact that we would kill the Son of God, the One who gave us life in creation and gives eternal life freely, demonstrates just how far we have fallen. Humanity cannot say that this day was a good day for our species. It is a paradox that the very event that makes us most deserving of hell is the event that must have happened to free us from it. Who can understand the mind of the Lord? How unsearchable are his ways! I believe God shows us through the cross that salvation cannot come by how moral we are. Salvation came through the most wicked event imaginable. How about for God? Was this a good day for him? He watched as the sons of men willfully and cheerfully destroyed his most precious gift to us. He painfully lost the only son He has ever begotten. God loved the world so much that He gave away his only begotten son. And that’s the only reason why we can call today “good.” Today happened out of God’s love for humanity and to restore all things to himself. As devastating as it was, it was happening for a wonderful purpose obscured to us. Even Jesus’ own disciples didn’t understand until after it all had happened. This was something only Jesus and His Father fully understood. And then, it seems as if Jesus didn’t really fully understand it all either, when He said “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Perhaps at this point in time, only the Father knew full well what He was doing and what was happening. Everyone else was lost–last of all, His Son. The only way today is good is if Jesus’ death must have happened to give us right standing with God. I was reminded this week that Jesus’ death wasn’t enough to give us that gift. He had to be victorious over sin (which he accomplished in...

In a previous post about two months ago, I shared my struggle with holding out for God to come through, instead of complaining or worrying. I contemplated the possibility that throwing one’s hands in the air, giving up, losing faith, or doubting God might be the better approach, even if God rebukes me. That is, if He then comes through like He did for the Israelites when He provided water from a rock, or when Jesus calmed the storm for the disciples. Two months later, my perspective has changed a bit. God still hasn’t come through like I had hoped. My condition hasn’t changed. Yet, my thought now is–well, I’ve made it this far without supernatural water or without the supernatural calming of the storm…perhaps somehow this is where I need to be. If things indeed don’t change, that would mean things get tougher, of course, not better. But this week, I am reflecting on Christ’s last week. It was coming down to the wire. He knew He was about to face His greatest challenge yet. He had lived a life of perfection, resisting temptation all along even when it was tough, always doing the Father’s will. And now He must face the cross, and He prays, “If it is possible to let this cup pass from me, please let it be. But not my will, but yours be done.” And then, interestingly, Jesus says that He could call down legions of angels to rescue Him from the impending cross, but He was choosing to do God’s will instead (Matthew 26:53-54). This prompts an intriguing thought for me: Is it possible that I could end my trial prematurely with a supernatural rescue as well? Is that what the Israelites did when they cried out for water in the desert? Is that what the disciples did when they lost faith in the storm? When you’re so close to the finish line, why mess up everything you’ve endured up to that point? If you’ve endured this far…why give up so late in the game? Even if you’re about to face a more difficult part of your trial, can you go for it anyway? I don’t know if I’m close to the...

I find myself torn between two worlds–I grew up Pentecostal, and while I see the value in expressive worship, something is missing there. It’s like everyone is coming into the same room to have their own personal worship time with God. Everyone else is just there to give them a bigger personal worship experience. And most recently, I’ve been in the Methodist world for the past eight years. Methodists like liturgy, not expressiveness. It’s like everyone is coming together to recite the same thing every Sunday, but are we connecting with God? When I try to converse with Pentecostals about my frustration with their worship services, they think I’m being picky, because everyone is “getting into it,” so what’s the big deal? They’re all connecting with God, right? But my problem is, we’re not doing it together. The only way we’re doing it together is that everyone else at the same time is having their own personal worship experience. They would say, “Isn’t that what it means to be doing it together?” The best way I can describe how this feels is this: It’s like everyone meeting together in the same computer lab to be on Facebook at the same time. Sure, we’re all on Facebook at the same time, but we’re not really doing anything meaningful with one another. I know it’s not that extreme, but that’s often how I feel in Pentecostal worship services. Everyone is pretty much locking themselves away, trying to not let anyone else distract them, so they can have some sort of personal experience with God. I wanna say, “Didn’t Jesus say to go get a room?” Or maybe it was a closet. But when I’m in Methodist worship circles, I end up longing for more of the Pentecostal side of things, because it feels like no one is really connecting to God in any deep, meaningful way. We all say the same lines, stand up here, sit down there. We’ve done this for so many years that we have replaced enjoying God with enjoying a ritual. The liturgy seems only there to make us feel like we did the right things and said the right things, and all at the right time...

Had a great time with extended family celebrating Rachel’s third birthday today. I can remember when Naomi turned three, and I thought she was becoming a “big girl.” Is she really turning seven this year? I’m very grateful to have such a wonderful family. The best wife and the two most delightful children in the world. No matter what life throws our way, it is always good to have days that remind you of the most important things. As important as my family is, they must be second-place to God. I’ve been reminded recently that we are not guaranteed to always have our families with us, as difficult as that scenario may sound. While today was a great day indeed, I remind myself that even if I didn’t have my family, I would still have Jesus. This is something I am always learning. Could I find joy if I lost everything but Christ? I try to avoid considering that reality, for fear that I might just have to face such a drastic loss at some point. I think about people around the world and throughout history who were separated from their family through persecution because of the cause of Christ. How did they manage sitting in a jail cell all alone for the remainder of their life? Did the rest of the family still cling to Christ after they watched their father/husband burned to death in front of their eyes? How? I realize how weak my faith is in comparison. I’m proud of who Rachel is becoming, even though the things she thinks make her such a “big girl” at three years old make me chuckle inside. It really isn’t about what she can do now, but simply that she’s my daughter. Sometimes, I think I’m becoming a “big boy” for how I’ve grown in my faith, although I’m probably just turning three. Even though I’m reminded that I don’t yet have the faith or maturity of those who have gone before me (key word: yet), perhaps God sees me the same way I see my big girl. Happy Birthday, “Miss Suck-A-Thumb”! Love, “Chief...

I heard something great on the radio yesterday. The guy was talking about how us parents don’t effectively discipline our kids–except that he said he doesn’t like the word “discipline,” because it brings up the imagery of simply reward and punishment. Instead, he says it’s our job as parents to disciple our kids (same root word). He thinks that word better connotates the role and responsibility of parents. I agree with him. Over the years of serving as a youth pastor or being involved in youth ministry, I’ve realized that the vast majority of them do not know much of the faith by the time they reach youth group–even if they’ve grown up in Christian homes. For example, if I were to ask the average youth person, “Name me three things about the guy Abraham in the Bible,” they wouldn’t be able to do it. And Abraham isn’t a nobody in the Bible–he’s the father of the faith. The more I contemplated this, the more I realized that this was probably true for the vast majority of parents in the church too. The reason why their kids didn’t know Abraham is that their parents didn’t know who he was either. Or in some instances, the parents knew it but didn’t fully realize their role as disciple-makers. Instead, I think many parents and churches abdicate their responsibility to mentor children and youth, and simply dump that responsibility on the children/youth pastor. When I shared these ideas with Genesis, my former church, I was excited that they embraced the idea of addressing this problem and changing it. I drafted a proposal of how to change things in our church along these lines–a process that would take at least three years–and they were on board. I really appreciated their willingness to step forward in this–many churches are not so open to considering alternative ways of doing ministry. But I think more and more churches are realizing that the old model of doing youth/children’s ministry doesn’t produce very sustainable, effective, or healthy ministry in the lives of youth and children. Turnover rate in these fields is so high, but parents and church members are there for the kids the entire time. On top...