The Searcher…

Come Out of Hiding

Focal Passage: Genesis 3:8

A nervous young man stood in the aisle of a church during a revival meeting in Brockton, MA, in response to an appeal by noted evangelist Dwight L. Moody. In a shaky voice, the young man admitted he didn’t fully understand the message that Moody just delivered, but he said, “I’m not quite sure, but I’m going to trust and obey.”

David Towner, the services music minister, sat on the platform, struck by the words of faith so innocently stated. He wrote down the words, sending them to a friend who served as a Presbyterian minister named John Sammis. Paired with a melody Towner wrote, the lyrics written by Sammis comprise the cherished tune we know as Trust and Obey.

The song begins:

“When we walk with the Lord in the light of his love…” and ends with a line that says, “When in fellowship sweet, we shall sit as his feet, or walk by his side on the way…”

I know I’ve talked about this idea of walking with the Lord in the past. It’s a rich phrase that repeats itself often enough in scripture that it’s worth exploring since it ought to be the goal of every believer.

There’s an interesting phrase in the account of Adam and Eve’s sin in the Garden of Eden. As soon as they ate of the fruit on the tree that God forbade them to touch, they realized clearly their disobedience. Eyes opened and spiritually naked, they stitched together a few fig leaves to cover their shame.

Then, look at what scripture tells us.

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. (Genesis 3:8)

They “heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden.”

Scholars more versed in Hebrew than I say that the Hebrew phrase used in Genesis 3 suggests God was “walking, as was his custom.” In other words, before they allowed sin to enter the world, Adam and Eve regularly walked with God, sharing fellowship and relationship with him.

That’s why the sound they heard while they were sewing their fig leaves was so familiar to them. The knew the sound God made while walking through his creation. They heard it every time God came to walk with them.

That’s a fascinating take on this time of perfection, isn’t it? When all was right, before choice created chaos, God walked regularly with his children in perfect fellowship. So common was his presence, they recognized the sound he made as he stepped lightly on the grass and pushed aside the low branches of the trees in the garden.

Once perfection was marred by sin, Adam and Eve knew everything had changed. They were right…to a point.

When they heard God taking his customary walk in the garden and heard him call for them, they weren’t cowering in fear of a tiger jumping out of the underbrush. They weren’t hiding from an unknown monster. They were afraid the Lord God with whom they regularly walked in the cool of each day would find them exposed and guilty of disobeying his one command. As a result, they hid in the forest.

The Hebrew word for hid in this passage speaks of intention. They deliberately withdrew themselves, (literally in Hebrew) from the presence of the Lord.

That’s what makes all this so poignant. Let me see if I can take you where I’m going.

When God called out, “Where are you?,” he was not clueless and befuddled. He knew what they did and where they were. He wanted them to step out of hiding, come back into his presence and confront what happened. He needed them to acknowledge or confess what the sin they committed.

Here’s the thing I missed each time I read this verse in the past. Even knowing their sin and knowing they must face the consequences of that sin, God still came to walk with them. To connect again with them. To stay in relationship with them…even when they deliberately and purposefully withdrew from his presence.

Do you catch the irony here? The God they were hiding from is the same God who came looking for them. Yes, nature of God’s relationship with humanity changed, but not because he changed…because humanity changed.

Sin makes us hide from God; grace is God coming to look for us.

And, therein rests the good news of the gospel. God never declared his people a lost cause. Instead, God began a long, redemptive movement back to humanity. Culminating, as John says in the opening words of his gospel as he introduces Jesus to his readers:

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. (John 1:14)

John uses a Greek word for dwelt in this sentence which can be literally translated as pitched his tent among us. Jesus came to live and walk with God’s creation.

The final picture isn’t humanity clawing its way back into Eden so much as God in Jesus coming to dwell among his people once again. When the redemptive work of Christ was finished, God sent the Holy Spirit to dwell in the hearts of all believers, then and now, walking daily with each of us in fellowship, teaching and guiding our every step.

Perhaps that is what makes the idea of walking with God so profound. It’s not merely a metaphor for living a good life. It is a picture of what God created us for in the first place.

So perhaps the question isn’t simply, “Are you walking with God?” Maybe the deeper question is, “Are you still hiding?”

If you are hiding, the sound of God walking in your garden, as is his custom, is not a sound to dread or fear. It is a sound to celebrate. It is an invitation from a loving God who wants us to step out of the trees.

To come back in his presence.

To trust. To obey.

To walk with him again.

I find that…remarkable!

Thinking Points

What familiar “sound” of God’s presence am I ignoring — the gentle ways he invites me back into fellowship?

How does the picture of God walking “as was his custom” reshape my understanding of his desire for relationship with me?

In what ways do I experience the daily companionship of the Holy Spirit? How might I become more attentive to him?

What would trusting and obeying look like in the specific place where I am most prone to withdraw from the presence of God?

Divided or Devoted

Focal Passage: Matthew 6:25-33

Famed humorist Erma Bombeck once wrote, “Worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

That kind of makes you want to hum a little Bobbie McFerrin ditty, doesn’t it? “Don’t worry. Be happy.”

I understand that we tend to borrow trouble that rarely reaches the intensity we feared.  While I don’t think I’m a compulsive worrier, I suppose, like many other folks, I have latent tendencies of “deep concern.”

That may be why I paused to listen to a snippet from a podcast that popped up during one my web surfing sessions this past week. I only listened for a few minutes as this pastor I did not recognize or know shared his take on Matthew 6:25.

“Therefore, I tell you, don’t not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food and the body more important than clothes.”

Jesus offers that encouragement, speaking to a crowd on a Galilean hillside in the midst of his Sermon on the Mount. He elaborates on this idea by telling the crowd about the birds and the lilies and reminding everyone that, “Who of you by worrying can add a single day to his life.”

As I heard the reading of that scripture, I thought, “Easier said than done.”

However, this pastor didn’t take his message where I thought he was going. He chose instead to focus on that initial phrase, “Don’t worry about your life.”  He offered helpful insight I had never considered. In case you find yourself worrying about things in your life, maybe a fresh take on it will help.

As it’s used in this passage, the Greek word for worry (merimnao) goes beyond being anxious or concerned. My Greek lexicon suggests its more about not letting your mind or heart be divided between two conflicting things. According to the pastor, it describes a distracting anxiety that fractures your heart and mine, pulling you in different directions internally.

So, think about that. Jesus is telling us to not let our hearts be divided. To not live preoccupied with control over choices and outcomes. He’s certainly not condemning wise and careful preparation, but he is reminding us not to be so consumed with worry that it competes with our trust in God for control over circumstances we encounter.

I’m to rest in my trust in God so that my mind is not pulled in different directions.

When Jesus spoke of life in this passage, the Greek word used here is psyche—a word even Freud would love. Psyche goes beyond survival living and into the very nature of our whole being, our identity in Christ.

Jesus is speaking about the essence of who we are in him. When we allow worry or anxiety to consume our souls, it alters our desires, our identity as a child of God. Our heart goes to war with the life God has called us to live.

This pastor in his podcast said that life, as described in verse 25 is “what you live for, not what you live on.”

Now, put those two concepts together. Jesus is essentially saying, “Don’t let anxiety fracture your soul by replacing your trust in God’s provision and care. Don’t let your worry alter the very nature of who God intended you to be.”

I could not shake this thought long after I turned off the podcast, so I dug a little deeper on my own.

“Therefore” is a powerful word in scripture. It’s God’s way of saying, “I hope you paid attention to what I just said because now I’m going to tell you what you really need to know. Listen up!”

When you look back through the snippets of truth Jesus shares prior to his “therefore,” in verse 25, he talks about having divided motives, divided treasure and divided minds.

In Matthew 6:1-18, Jesus talks about those who give to the poor or pray or fast just “to be seen by others.” The motive behind their acts of piety suggest they are living for human praise and approval rather than God’s approval. Divided motives.

Instead, Jesus suggests giving so “your left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing so your giving may be in secret.” Pray in the privacy of your own room with “the door closed.” Fast in ways that are “not obvious to men that you are fasting.”

In Matthew 6:19-24, Jesus urges us to fight the tendency to amass wealth to protect us from the uncertainties of life…putting more value on earthly achievement or earthly riches that will eventually fade. Divided treasures.

Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21). Count as treasure a life spent in service to God and others.

Right before his “therefore” Jesus puts it succinctly when he reminds us that we cannot serve two masters because we end up loving one and hating the other. “You cannot serve God and money.” (Matthew 6:24)

The word translated as money isn’t referring specifically to cash or currency. Our good ol’ King James called it mammon, a word whose Aramaic root talks about things upon which we rely for happiness and security. It is a word that talks of wealth, possessions, economic security…really, anything that you trust in materially.

When Jesus reminds us to avoid having divided treasure, he’s talking about avoiding using wealth as a source of security, identity and trust.

Jesus said that divided motives and divided treasure are exactly what leads to divided minds. When Jesus tells us, “Do not worry about your life…,” he is pointing back to all those things that divide our focus and time. Things that stand in the way of our undivided devotion to God.  Worry is the natural result of the divided allegiances described in the prior passages.

British theologian John Stott, author of The Cross of Christ, gets to the heart of how worry influences our spiritual relationship to God. “Anxiety,” he said, “is not just emotional—it’s theological. Before Jesus says, ‘Do not worry,’ he says, ‘You cannot serve two masters.’ Worry is what it feels like to try.”

That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Finding our hearts and minds divided over what or whom we can or cannot trust?

When the late Rev. Tim Keller, former pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church, preached on this same passage, he used the term double-mindedness to describe this idea of a divided mind. Double-mindedness, he said, is a kind of functional unbelief that “trusts in God in theory but doesn’t rest in him in practice.”

So, what’s the solution? How do I keep worry or anxiety from dividing my devotion to God?

Keller would say, “Keep reading the words of Jesus.”

So do not worry, saying, “What shall we eat?” Or “What shall we drink?” Or “What shall we wear? For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly father knows that you need them.” (Matthew 6:31-32)

Here’s the kicker.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all those things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:31)

It occurs to me that anxiety grows when something other than Christ becomes central to my life.

Remember when Jesus was in the house of Lazarus? Martha is scurrying around trying to make sure everyone has what they need and preparing the meal for this gathering of folks in her home. Mary, meanwhile, is sitting at Jesus’ feet, taking in every word from his mouth.

In a moment of irritation, Martha asked Jesus to make Mary get up and help. Do you remember what Jesus said? (Luke 10:41-42)

“Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better.” Martha worked with a divided heart, while Mary focused on “the one thing” that is necessary.

It’s worth saying again. Anxiety grows when something other than Christ becomes central.

I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through this week. Nor, do I pretend that I have my act together every day. This lesson was a great reminder for me to quit taking on responsibility that God never gave me in the first place. Responsibilities that God wants me to lay at his feet.

You see, only one thing is needed.

Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.

Thinking Points

Where are the competing allegiances in your life? How does that divided focus affect your trust in God?

 

Are there specific motives or treasures in your life that you tend to rely on for your identity of security? How might Jesus be inviting you to loosen your grip on them?

 

In what ways does worrying reshape who you are in Christ? How would it feel different if you followed Jesus’ encouragement to “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness?

 

How might choosing the “one thing” that is necessary, reorient your week—your schedule, your attention, your emotional and spiritual energy—toward Christ?

 

 

 

His Yoke is Easy

Focal Passage: Matthew 11:28-30

There is a kind of weariness that sleep cannot fix. It settles not in the body but in the soul, where faith is meant to live and breathe. I have felt it at times. I bet you have, too.

Many Christians know this quiet exhaustion—the slow erosion of trust when prayers seem unanswered, obedience feels unnoticed, and God’s promises appear distant. It is not necessarily the weariness of doing too much or trying too hard, although that can happen. It can also manifest itself as we wonder if what we are doing still matters to God.

This spiritual fatigue often grows in the tension between what we believe and what we experience. We know God is good, attentive, and present, yet life can still feel heavy with silence, delay, and ambiguity.

Over time, the heart begins to carry burdens it was never meant to bear—managing outcomes, maintaining appearances of strength, and quietly questioning God’s involvement.

Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11:28–30 speaks directly to this deep weariness. Christians grow weary sometimes not because faith is flawed, but because we often misunderstand its nature, turning trust into effort and surrender into striving.

Into that self-imposed exhaustion, Jesus offers not more to do, rather, he offers himself as someone to whom we can come.

That offer changes everything.

I think that’s why I gravitated this week to one of the greatest promises of New Testament scripture.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

I know this passage speaks first to a Jewish culture that demanded complete obedience to a wide-ranging system of Pharisaic rules, regulations and expectations. It is an invitation to those who felt the crushing weight of this legalistic religion and floundered in their inability to achieve righteousness through effort.

I also think it speaks to those of us today whose faith, once simple and confident, becomes strained under unmet expectations and prolonged uncertainty.

Jesus calls to those who are weary and burdened. The Greek words for “weary” and “burdened” carry distinct meanings that deepen the nature of Jesus’ invitation to come to him.

The word used for weary (kopiao) means to “grow tired from hard work, to toil to the point of exhaustion.” It is the strenuous effort that drains one physically, emotionally and even spiritually.

It is the same word used in John 5:5 when Jesus told Peter who had been fishing through the night to cast the nets again. Peter responded, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught a thing.” They had worked and grown weary not only because it was hard work, but because it was all for nothing.

To be “burdened” (phortizo) or heavy ladened, depending on your translation, is to “load down.” Grammatically, it is a perfect passive participle. Literally, “having been loaded down” and remaining in that condition. It also suggests the burden has been placed upon them by an external source.

It speaks of carrying loads not chosen. Loads that cannot be removed without help–the expectations of others, guilt induced by others, obligations repeatedly thrust upon you by circumstances outside one’s control.

It’s the image of someone crushed under a load they didn’t pack and can’t put down. I picture the sway-backed horse or the small boat so fully loaded it sits low in the water with waves washing over its sides.

When Christ bids the weary and burdened to come to him, he promises rest. The Greek word used for “rest” (anapauso) means to find relief after toil, a refreshing that restores strength. So, it’s not ceasing to work as much as it is to be renewed or refreshed after growing weary. To be re-energized to continue the work before you.

You find the same idea in Psalm 23, “He leads me beside still waters…he restores my soul.”

For a people burdened by Jewish legalism like those in Jesus’ audience, Jesus promised an internal reset, not relief from a life of obedience, but freedom from the weight of that burden—a burden he took upon himself at the cross. The same applies to the exhausted Christians today who grow weary of all that life throws at them.

Jesus encourages us to silence all the internal noise that prevents us from seeing God’s hand at work in our lives or the walls that keep us from seeing or sensing God in the first place. We are urged to draw nearer to him to find the inner rest and restoration we need to continue the work to which he has called us.

Paul offers this reminder to the Galatian church.

Let us not become weary of doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9)

Notice that the rest Jesus speaks about is not about no longer working. It’s about linking or yoking ourselves to him. Deepening our connection and our relationship to one willing to share our burden.

Take up my yoke and learn from me.

In Jewish culture in the first century, taking up one’s yoke meant submitting to authority–the “yoke of the law” or the teachings of a specific rabbi. It meant one would become attached to the teacher and live under his instruction or guidance.

When Jesus asks us to take up his yoke, he asks us to submit our lives to him, fully and completely. To learn from him. His way of life. Jesus is saying, “Come under my instruction. Let me define how you live. Quit trying to figure it all out by yourself. Quit doing things on your own and trust me.”

Jesus offers a different kind of yoke. One not tied to heavy burdens. One not imposed with strict, exhausting interpretations of rules and regulations. A yoke that is not oppressive, but is relational. Gentle. Life-giving.

However, Jesus’ yoke is still a yoke. He didn’t remove a yoke from us in order to send us out to pasture to frolic in the tall, green grass without care or concern. We remain tied to his authority in ways that still carry responsibilities. Ways that still require obedience.

He promises, though, that the labor, the yoke under which we work, will not be crushing or burdensome because he is gentle and humble in heart. Kind, not harsh. Understanding, not a taskmaster. Approachable and compassionate.

I like the Greek word for gentle (praus) used here. It means “strength under control.” The word described a warhorse–strong, powerful, but disciplined and held in check by the reins in the rider’s hands. It describes one who has power, but chooses restraint—not harsh, not domineering, not reactive.

Pair praus with the Greek word for humble (tapeinos) and you get a sweet nuance that testifies to who Jesus is.

Tapeinos usually held a negative tone in the first century. It could mean low status or brought low. Jesus claims the word and applies it to himself, not as a matter of shame, but as a virtue. Humbling himself, as the Son of God, to be like us. This was his inner disposition. This is who he was at the core.

Then, Jesus paints one more word picture for us. Go again to the Greek. The word used here for “easy” (chrestos) is a word that Jesus, as a first century carpenter, would clearly understand. It means “well-fitting.”

In that day, ox yokes were crafted by a carpenter from wood. The carpenter measured the ox, using those measurements to rough-cut the yoke. The yoke would be tried on, marked and sculpted to fit the shape and form of that ox so it would not rub and chafe. It was tailor-made for that ox.

Do you see that picture for followers of Christ like you and I? Jesus promises his yoke will fit us well. The life he gives us to live is not a burden that will rub and chafe us. Our lives, the work we have been called to do, are made and measured for each of us. Tailor-made by the master carpenter himself.

That thought ought to make the yoke easier to bear, but there is one last thing. Though it’s never explicitly said in this passage, I always picture a double yoke, shaped for a team of two oxen.

Farmers in Jesus’ day and farmers of our not-so-distant past, would often pair an older ox with a younger ox. A stronger ox with the weaker ox. The older, stronger ox would carry the greater burden as the younger, weaker ox learned and grew into its own yoke.

Even if not explicitly stated, the rest of scripture shows that Jesus carried the greater burden in our lives by his suffering and death on the cross for our sins and our mistakes. My burden is lighter because he has carried it and continues to carry it with me, bearing most of the weight of all that confronts me.

Paul, discussing the “thorn in his side,” reminds us that Jesus told him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Jesus offered his invitation at a time when Jewish law, their yoke, had become so oppressive, it caused people to feel unable and incapable of being in right relationship with God. He offered a new yoke, a new way of living in relationship with him that provides rest and recovery from the burdens imposed by others.

That truth is no less relevant today.

There have been times in my life when the eyes staring back at me in the mirror showed signs of quiet exhaustion. Times when I grew tired of doing too much or trying too hard. I have felt the spiritual fatigue of unanswered prayers and distant promises.

I have looked into the eyes of family and friends over the past few weeks. I’ve heard the uncertainty and weariness in their voices. I’ve seen worry etched in their faces and heard it in the timbre of their voices. They carry burdens they were never meant to bear, feeling like they were alone in the middle of the struggle, questioning God’s presence, involvement and even his love.

I don’t know if that’s where you find yourself this week. Bone-weary and in need of rest and recovery. If that’s you, I know where you’ll find it because I found it, time and time again snug in the light and easy yoke of Christ.

The life he has called you to live is custom-made. Carved for your shoulders. The good news of Jesus is that you are yoked together with him and he’s pulling most of the load.

He reminds us in this passage that there is only one thing we need to do.

Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.

Thinking Points

In what aspects of life do you most feel the “quiet exhaustion” your soul carries? What parts of your life feel like a yoke that rubs and chafes rather than one that fits well?

Think of the frustrations you’re experiencing. How much of that frustration comes from unintentionally turning trust into trying or surrender into striving?

 

Where do you sense Jesus inviting you to stop managing outcomes and simply come to Him?

How might your perspective shift if you pictured Jesus beside you in the yoke, carrying most of the weight?

Is God Calling?

Focal Passage: Mark 3:13-17

“God moves in mysterious ways.”

I found out today, after 72-years of my churchgoing, Sunday School teaching, Bible reading life, that those words cannot be found anywhere in the Bible.

You will find the words expressed, not in scripture, but in an old nineteenth century hymn by William Cowper. It is based on scriptures like the one in Isaiah 55 where God says, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.”

Whether from the old hymn or a passage of scripture, the way God moves in and through our lives is indeed mysterious. Often, however, when looking back over decades of life, the mysterious becomes a memory book of God’s grace in and calling for our lives.

The Sunday School lesson I taught this week included a passage in Mark 3 where God selected his 12 disciples. He called those men for a specific life and a specific purpose.

As a nine-year-old boy at First Baptist Church in Ropesville, TX, God called me to be one of his children. I made my profession of faith at that time and decided to follow Jesus.

God calls us to salvation, but the call does not end there. He also calls us to serve others in various ways, whether through our work, the church or in the everyday context of community.

The act of selection by Jesus is profound, underscoring his intention to empower ordinary people like you and me to carry his message and ministry to a lost and hurting world.

The passage in Mark seems such a straightforward verse about a specific event in Jesus’ ministry, but it is rich in nuance and meaning for the callings in our lives.

Jesus went up on a mountainside and called to him those he wanted and they came to him. He appointed twelve—designating them apostles—that he might send them out to preach and have authority to drive out demons. (Mark 3:13-15)

When scripture speaks of disciples, it can mean one of the 12 men closest to Jesus. It can also be any of the many followers of Jesus.

A disciple, by definition and practice of the first century, was a “student,” “a learner.” that’s pretty much how education worked in the Greco-Roman and Jewish worlds of the first century. A young man attached himself to a rabbi or teacher, with the intent of sitting at his feet, learning from him, walking beside him, listening to what he said and watching what he did. The idea was to think like, act like and become like the teacher.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus had dozens and dozens of disciples, people who were his students. Who learned from him. Who following his teachings. Who listened and watched what he did.

On that day on the mountainside described in Mark 3, Jesus called 12 men from among those many  disciples to be his apostles.

An apostle by definition is “one sent,” a representative with authority from the master. It was these 12 men, eyewitnesses to Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, who would go on to become foundational leaders of the Christian faith and of the early church.

There’s more to this passage than meets the eye, however. More than a simple list of those Jesus called to be his apostles. An idea, I think, that has deep implications for you and me about our calling.

Look back at verse 13.

Jesus “called to him those he wanted and they came to him.”

The Greek word “proskaleo” is the word Mark chose for “called.” It means “to be summoned.” “To be invited with intent and purpose.”

Jesus did not just look into the crowded of disciples and say with a wave of his hand, “I need 12 of you to come with me.” His choice wasn’t random. It was intentional. Purposeful. They choice of his apostles didn’t start with the disciples. It began with Jesus.

These men didn’t qualify themselves by anything they did. They didn’t fill out a job application.  They didn’t volunteer. Jesus chose them…specifically…individually.  This is consistent with the broader biblical theme found in John 15:16 where Jesus tells his followers,

“You did not choose me—but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit…”

Jesus called those 12 men to be apostles, sent representatives on his behalf to preach the good news of Jesus. He gave them authority to do the same kinds of things he did throughout his ministry.

Here’s why I think that’s important to understand. When Jesus calls you and me, it is not random. He has a plan and a purpose behind the call, whatever it may be. Just as God takes the initiative in our salvation, he also takes the initiative in calling us to service. It is not random. It is intentional. It is purposeful. There is reason behind the call, even when it feels somewhat mysterious and out of character.

Note also that Jesus called them “to him.”

Again, this isn’t Jesus just being a coach and saying, “Okay, men, gather up. I’ve got something to say.” Think relationship before responsibility. Mark tells us earlier in this chapter that the crowds that followed Jesus, these many disciples, came because of “everything he was doing.” They were curious, in need or interested in what he was saying and doing.

As Jesus chose these 12 men, it was a call to move beyond interest to intimacy. From being a part of the crowd to being a part of the committed. Jesus called them to a deeper relationship with him. To know him more personally and intimately. To know his heart. To understand his way.

Jesus called them to know before they could be. Before they could be what Jesus needed them to be, they needed to know him, truly know him, in a deeper, more personal, daily fellowship with him.

Our call feels no different. When Jesus calls us to himself, it is for deeper fellowship. Deeper understanding. To know him and his heart. To become more like him as he equips and enables us to do the work to which he has called us.

You and I don’t have the privilege of literally walking in the footprints and shadow of Jesus like those first apostles did. They could hear his words. The tone of his voice. See the look on his face as he challenged the Pharisees or touched the eyes of the blind man. Those men could sit around a campfire late into the night, asking the Lord of the universe their burning questions as they probed for understanding. Can you imagine?

Yet, we really have the same access if you think about it. His spirit dwells within us. It gives us the same opportunity as we read through scripture to walk in his footprints and shadow. To hear his words and the tone of his voice. To see his face as he challenged the religious establishment and touched the blind.

We have the same chance to sit down with him in prayerful conversation and scripture reading to ask the Lord of the universe our burning questions as we probe for understanding. We don’t have to imagine it. We can live it.

God’s call in our lives is not only intentional and purposeful, it is a call to deeper fellowship and relationship with Jesus.

There is another phrase in this passage that I really love. It says Jesus called to him those he wanted. The Greek word for “wanted” used in this verse is “thelo.” It is an expression of his will, desire or preference. He wanted these particular men for a particular task.

Look at that list of men chosen. Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James, the son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon, the Zealot, and Judas Iscariot.

Each disciple was chosen individually because of something Jesus saw in each of them. There was nothing outstanding about any of them. We know next to nothing about most of them. The things we know, we mostly infer. There were fishermen. A despised tax collector. One the Romans viewed as a terrorist. One who would eventually go off-rails and betray Jesus.

None of them were impressive by the standards of the world, but Jesus knew their hearts. They were teachable and willing. Open to the possibilities of what God, through Christ, might ask them to do. Jesus saw who they were deep inside and knew he could tap into their potential to accomplish and finish the task God had laid before him.

That’s what I want you to understand. God intentionally called you to be in relationship with him, to grow deeper in your relationship to him, based upon what he saw in your heart. He wanted you. Chose you. Intentionally and purposefully. He called you because he saw something in you that he could use to continue to accomplish and finish the task God has laid out before you.

The pairing of the words proskaleo and thelo…summoning and wanting…is important, I believe. Mark used these words to emphasize God’s personal invitation and his sovereign choice. He invites you. He chooses you. He has a point and a purpose for you.

If you have not yet responded to his salvation call, I pray you will. For that desire to accept Jesus for what he did for you on the cross comes before the call to serve.

I also don’t know what God has called you to do, but I believe he’s called you to a deeper relationship with him and an intentional and purposeful calling that extends well beyond a career. Pray that he will make clear that calling whatever it might be.

Until we meet him face to face, I don’t know if God ever stops calling us to serve. There is always a place for everyone called to God’s service. The call may change during the seasons of life, but it never ends.

God’s call is intentional. It is a call to relationship. In his sovereignty, he chose you. You can hear the call, but refuse to heed it. You can count the cost and abandon it. Joy comes, however, when you embrace it.

When Jesus called to him those he wanted, notice what comes next. Scripture says, “they came to him.”

I’m certain none of these 12 men fully understood what the call of Jesus really meant. I sometimes marvel in a disbelieving way how they so often failed to comprehend what Jesus was trying to teach them about who he was and what he came to do. It took his death and resurrection to drive the point home. That’s when they began to shine.

I’m equally sure there were times when the cost of discipleship seem too high a price to pay. They paid it anyway.

Reflecting on Mark 3:13, you and I are invited to consider our own responses to God’s divine call in our lives. Those times when we feel especially drawn to a purpose or mission. We need to be open and willing to follow where we are led. The verse challenges us to think about those decision points that determine our path through life.

That God chose these ordinary men as apostles should be a source of encouragement for you and me when we feel incapable or overlooked. Our unique gifts and experiences can work in concert with others to tell a broader story…to reach a wider community. We are called to demonstrate his love and compassion by embracing the roles we are meant to play.

The amazing act of Jesus calling his disciples invites us to reflect deeply on our ow lives and our willingness to respond to the beckoning finger that calls us with intention and purpose.

I don’t know what God has called you to do. What I believe for certain is that he called you to serve. He’s chosen you. He wants you. If that call is something unknown or something that seems outside your comfort zone, just know that God moves in mysterious way–but always beside those he calls.

That leaves us with one question. When Jesus calls you, will you come?

Thinking Points

Where in your own life’s story can you look back and now see God’s mysterious ways as moments of calling?

 

In what way is Jesus inviting you to move from interest to intimacy—moving you from the crowd to committed?

 

What aspect of the call you feel right now seems random right now? How might your feelings change if you trusted God’s call as intentional and purposeful?

 

What has God place within you—your temperament, experiences, gifts—that he may be choosing to use in this season of your life?

No Better Advocates

Focal Passages: Romans 8:26-34 and Hebrews 7:25

Isn’t it funny the things we remember and what brings them to the surface.

I declared public relations as my major at Texas Tech over 50 years ago without knowing much about the field. I sat in the back of the lecture hall, as was my custom, wearing my cloak of invisibility, hoping to never be called upon to share my limited understanding of the discipline I had chosen for my career.

The professor ambled slowly into class that first day wearing what I soon realized was his daily uniform–a rumpled, gray suit, that I suspect he had worn every day for the past 15 years. He opened his lecture by telling the class, “There is an old joke that defines public relations as the art of putting your best foot forward while lying about the other.” He laughed so we laughed with him.

I learned over the course of that morning and for the next four years that nothing could be further from the truth. A good public relations practitioner or spokesperson will not lie. The role as taught frames the message in a way that reflects the organization’s intentions, values and strengths, even when acknowledging mistakes that may have been made. The spokesperson speaks when the leadership team the pr professional represents is unable or hesitant to speak.

In his explanation, the professor said, “It is the pr practitioner who intercedes with the public on behalf of his or her client or organization.” It was the first time I had heard the word “intercession” outside of the church.

This week, in preparation for a Bible study class I’m teaching at my church on the Nicene Creed, I read these verses in Romans 8.

In the same way the spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for but the spirit himself intercedes for us with wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the spirit because the spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance to the will of God. (Romans 8:26-27)

This passage about the spirit’s intercession was familiar to me. However, in my head, I never linked it to the far more familiar verse that followed.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

I kept reading. Paul continues to talk about believers being called and justified by God, secured in relationship to the father.

Who will bring a charge against those God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one! Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is interceding for us. (Romans 8:33-34)

Again, this passage feels overshadowed in my head by more familiar verses that followed.

Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?…No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. (Romans 8:35, 37)

It’s that word interceding that intrigued me this week. The Holy Spirit’s interceding is familiar to me. His indwelling presence allows him to speak to God on behalf of his client…me…and you…when we don’t know exactly what to say or how to say it. My divine public relations specialist.

The Greek word Paul used to describe or define the Holy Spirit’s intercession is a word I cannot begin to pronounce…hyperentygchanei. Hyperentygchanei looks like it needs to buy another vowel or two. A few more consonants wouldn’t hurt.

Its root entygchano means to appeal or petition. Its prefix, hyper, can mean on behalf of or as a substitute for.

Paul says, in effect, the Holy Spirit petitions or appeals to the one who knows our hearts (God, the Father) in a strong or urgent way. Literally, to intercede for us with intense pleading, substituting his divine understanding and language for my feeble human insight and futile and ineffective words.

By adding hyper to the root, Paul stacks intensity into the word. This is not casual prayer language. It shows the Holy Spirit stepping into human weakness, translating the inarticulate into divine communication, pleading on our behalf the language of our hearts that we may not even fully understand.

It’s not that the spirit helps us pray better. The spirit carries our weakness into the presence of God and personally advocates on our behalf with divine depth and purpose which is to ensure that the desires we may not fully know or that we can’t fully express align more perfectly with the will of God (vs. 27).

The spirit intercedes for us even when we don’t know what to say or when we can’t see what’s next. Despite not understanding it all and because of the Spirit’s intercession, we can rest in the assurance that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose. (Vs. 28)

I find this connection between the intercession of the spirit and God working for the good most comforting.

Still, here’s the twist that I never saw coming. Jesus also intercedes on my behalf…not just the Holy Spirit.

When Jesus took his place on the right hand of God, I always thought of it as a vindication of his death, a declaration of his victory. God honored him and gave him a name above all names. His presence at the throne of God demonstrated his exalted status as Lord and Savior. I assumed it meant his work was finished…and to a point, that’s correct. His work on the cross is done. The salvation for those who believe in his name has been bought by his blood.

However, Paul opens up a new perspective in verse 34. I’m sure I read the passage in the past, but I’m not sure I ever truly saw it. Jesus, my savior is sitting next to God the Father, speaking words on my behalf. Interceding on my behalf.

The word Paul uses in verse 34 about the intercession of Jesus uses the same word without the hyper prefix used to describe the intercessory work of the Holy Spirit. Here Paul uses just entygchanei…to speak on behalf of another, to appeal or petition for another.

Jesus is still at work on my behalf and yours. He sits at the right hand of God, but not with his feet on a ottoman, sipping a glass of iced tea, while some angel waves a feathered fan in his face. He is interceding on my behalf and on your behalf…still.

The writer of Hebrews paints a picture of Jesus as our High Priest, whose job in the Old Testament was to offer atonement for the sins of the people. To serve as an intermediary between God and those who belonged to him.

Jesus is our great High Priest who sympathizes with our weaknesses and gives us confident access to God’s throne of grace. (Hebrew 4:14-16)

His access to God is our access to God through him.

Hebrews emphasizes how Jesus actively intercedes for believers, every time for the purpose and process of salvation. Here’s where the theology gets deep for me. Jesus’ work on the cross, his death and resurrection, made salvation possible for anyone who would confess his name and believe that God raised him from the dead. (Romans 10:9).

Hebrews tells us that for every believer, that work of Christ is done.

He offered one sacrifice for our sins forever and now sits on God’s right hand, his intercession flows from a finished atonement. (Hebrews 10:12-13)

…Intercession flows from a finished atonement…

Here’s what I think that means in a simplistic way. When the spirit convicted me of my sin and I turned to Jesus, the one who offered his life in payment for my sin, I gave my life to him. The finished work of Jesus’ atonement was that moment when he Jesus, sitting at the right hand of God, whispered in the Father’s ear, “Yes, I died for Kirk. His debt has been paid.” Because Jesus interceded on my behalf, God’s poured out his grace on me.

Christ’s intercession for salvation seems pretty straightforward to me. This next part takes me deeper.

Jesus’ intercession on my behalf doesn’t end at that moment of salvation. It continues through sanctification, that beautiful church word that means the process of being made holy…the ongoing, Spirit-enabled transformation of a believer into Christlikeness.

It is that work for which Christ continuously intercedes on our behalf. Hear this word from Hebrews.

Therefore, he is able to save completely (literally, to the uttermost, to the end) those who come to God through him because he always lives to intercede for them. (Hebrews 7:25)

Did you hear that?

…he always lives to intercede…

Christ intercedes to sustain our life in Christ to ensure we don’t collapse under pressure. To guarantee that repentance remains possible even after our failure to live up to his calling. To ensure our continued spiritual growth even amid our own weaknesses. Simply put, Christ intercedes to ensure that our standing with God remains intact while we are being transformed.

This is not a second or recurring atonement. It is a picture of Jesus remaining our advocate, presenting his finished work on our behalf, ensuring that our access to the Father never ends. After I am saved, I still sin. I still need forgiveness in real time. I still live in a broken world. Jesus stands in my corner as my advocate before God, pleading my case.

Hebrews 7:24 is a clear statement of Jesus’ continuous intercession. His work covers the full scope of salvation, not just our initial forgiveness and our becoming more like Christ, but our ongoing security and relationship to God for all eternity.

Maybe the concept is more simple than I first thought. The Holy Spirit’s intercession is experiential. He is at work within us, helping us in our weaknesses in prayer and aligning our hearts with the heart of God. Jesus’ intercession is positional. He represents us before God, securing our standing with him based upon his finished work.

As a former public relations practitioner, I understand the intercession of the spirit and of Christ a little more clearly than I once did. The spirit is my spokesperson who speaks on my behalf when I am unable or unwilling to speak for myself, even when I’m not sure what to say.

Christ speaks for us both when we fail to do things right and when we manage by God’s grace to follow him. He frames our lives in a way that reflects the intentions, values and strengths of Christ himself, even while acknowledging before God the mistakes we’ve made. Both the spirit and Christ, intercede to help us grow in our relationship to God as they transform us into the image of Christ.

We could ask for no better advocates.

Thinking Points

Most of us have found ourselves unable to pray because we did not know what to say or what we should ask for? What has happened once, will happen again. How does Romans 8:26-27 bring comfort in those moments?

How does the Holy Spirit’s intercession help you trust that God is working for your good, even when circumstances feel unclear or painful?

What difference does it make to know that Jesus is not only risen and exalted, but also actively interceding for you?

How does Christ’s ongoing intercession shape your understanding of forgiveness, sanctification, and your secure relationship with God?

In what ways does the image of the Spirit and Christ as advocates deepen your confidence as you approach God in prayer?

Walk This Way

Focal Passages: Matthew 4:19, Romans 8-29, I John 2:5b-6

Marty Feldman, the bugged-eyed comic of the 1970s, acted in the role of Igor in the cut comedy classic Young Frankenstein, released in 1974. He and Gene Wilder, starring as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, played off of each other to perfection.

In one timeless scene, Frankenstein, arrived at the castle to begin his experiments. Igor, the scientist’s assistant with the ever-shifting hump on his back, picked up the doctor’s suitcase and began hobbling away. Hunched over and dragging his right leg behind him. As he led the doctor to his room, Igor said, “Walk this way.”

Wilder, looked a little bemused, but followed Igor, hunched over and dragging his own right leg. Comedy gold, in my book.

Some 50 years later, I still play that scene with my grandkids. “Walk this way,” as I mimic Igor. They just look at me like I’m a crazy man.

I don’t know if Feldman and Wilder realized the biblical truth they accidentally modeled, but in some ways, it matches the familiar call of Jesus to discipleship.

Walk this way becomes an echo of Jesus calling the seeker to “follow me.”

As he called his disciples, Jesus would utter some form of those two words. We see it first in Matthew 4:19. Peter and Andrew were casting their nets in pursuit of the day’s catch. Jesus called to them from shore…

“Follow me. I will make you fishers of men.”

The call to follow promising a new work, a new mission focused on spreading the good news of Christ.

Later in Matthew 8, a man came to Jesus with the desire to become a disciple, but wanted to first take care of some family business. When Jesus said to him, “Follow me…,” the man prioritized his family concerns and walked away. The change required by those words cost too much.

Later, Jesus called Matthew himself from a lucrative job as tax collector. Jesus walked up to the tax booth and said simply, “Follow me.” Matthew left it all behind to follow Jesus.

Commentaries tell me the word Matthew uses for follow in these passages is akoloutheo. It doesn’t mean “just tag along with me.” It means…

“To move in the same way as.”

“To occupy the same road.”

“Not trailing behind, but walking the same path the other walks.”

These first century men, living in the Jewish rabbinic tradition, would understand this word as a call to discipleship. It certainly meant to learn under the tutelage of a master teacher. Still, the word conveys more than the idea of learning from someone. It speaks about total life imitation.

A true disciple watched his rabbi constantly…the way he interpreted scripture, the way he prayed, the way he treated others, the way he dealt with opposition and struggle.

The goal of following was to so completely understand the rabbi’s conduct and character that the rabbi’s way of living in and seeing the world became the disciple’s way of living and seeing the world.

Jesus wasn’t just on the recruiting trail, looking for people who might agree with his theology, he was looking for people willing to walk the same road he walked in the way he walked it. He called people to imitate his obedience to the Father and demonstrate his love for the broken, the hurting and the outcast. He called folks to absolute surrender to the will and way of God. He called his followers to lay everything down, even life itself, for the truth of God’s kingdom.

You see that clearly displayed just weeks prior to the cross and the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Jesus began to tell his disciples that he “must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things…that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.”

Peter, bless his heart, pulled Jesus aside and–scripture uses a harsh word here–“rebuked” Jesus. In essence, Peter sternly cautioned Jesus, “Quit saying such things! We’ll never let that happen! We’ll walk with you and they wouldn’t dare touch you!”

Jesus fired right back at Peter with a harsh rebuke of his own. “Get behind me, Satan!”

Then, Jesus, turning to all his disciples in another call to continued discipleship, laid out the conditions of discipleship in no uncertain terms.

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24)

There it is again, according to the commentaries, akoloutheo,

Follow me.

The word here deepens the meaning of what “following” actually requires. Now, he talks about the cost of following.

Self-denial. Yielding control of life. …all of life… to a sovereign Lord.

Taking up your cross. Investing one’s life…all of one’s life…to the work of God’s kingdom, regardless of the cost.

Follow. Giving your life…all of life…not just in a moment of trust that brings salvation, but in a continuous desire to become more like Christ every day.

Romans 8:29 says that God calls us to be conformed to the likeness of his Son. Paul isn’t just asking us to agree in principle with the teachings of Christ. He isn’t asking us to fall in line in some sort of superficial imitation of Jesus.

Discipleship and the call to follow is to work toward an inward, essential transformation into the same nature, conduct and character of Christ. A lifelong process of living each day just a little more like him.

Theologically, we call that sanctification…the ongoing process of salvation that has as its goal being transformed into the image of Christ. Being Christlike.

Many Christians today think of following Jesus as a belief system to maintain or a set of values by which to live. Thom Rainer, former president and CEO of Lifeway Christian Resources, bemoans this kind of consumer Christianity, a term he used to describe a faith that expects spiritual goods and services rather than sacrificial discipleship.

Following Jesus has never been a position to hold or a label to attach to our resume. Nor is it a political masthead. The call of Christian discipleship is a call to transformation, obedience and service.

The Apostle John answered Jesus’ call to follow. It changed his life forever. In his first letter, John encouraged his readers to live this transformed life of obedience.

We know that we have come to know him if we obey his commands. The man who says, “I know him,” but does not do what he commands is a liar, the truth is not in him. But if anyone obeys his word, God’s love is truly made complete in him. (I John 2:5a)

Then John hits the nail on the head.

This is how we know we are in him: Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did. (I John 2:5b-6)

So, the question this call begs me to answer…and the question it poses for you, too…is not how deep is my belief in Jesus, but how much does my daily walk look like his?

Now can you see that Feldman/Wilder skit finding its way into the gospel?

Akoloutheo.

Follow me.

Walk this way.

Thinking Points

Where in my daily life am I simply “agreeing with Jesus” rather than actually walking in His ways?

What part of self denial or surrender is Jesus calling me to embrace more fully right now?

How does my response to inconvenience, conflict, or suffering reveal whether I am walking the same road Jesus walked?

What habits, attitudes, or priorities need to be reshaped so that my life increasingly reflects the character of Christ?

Who in my life is watching my walk, and what picture of Jesus are they seeing through me?

Death, Grief and Hope

Focal Passage: Psalm 116:15

Of all the statistics Mr. Wallace shared with us in my sixth-grade social studies class back at Ropes Junior High—and Mr. Wallace loved his statistics—the only one I retained was that the life expectancy of an American male at the time was 72 years. For that 12-year-old back in the spring of 1966, 72 sounded old and seemed long enough.

I’m 72 and one-half years old today, living the last six months by those long remembered actuarial standards, on God’s borrowed time. Today, 72 feels young and those 60 extra years Mr. Wallace gave me decades ago feel woefully short of long enough.

Over the past several months, many of my family and friends have died. If it isn’t my personal loss, several of my family and friends have lost family and friends of their own. While most of those who passed away made it beyond that calculated number, a few were taken from this life far too soon.

The older we are the more we are confronted by death and the grief it brings. Grief, even for a Christian born again in the hope of Christ’s resurrection, is profoundly real.

British theologian C. S. Lewis married for the first and only time when he was in his mid-50s. Joy, his wife for only four short years, died of cancer. Shortly after her death, he wrote a book entitled A Grief Observed. He wrote, “No one ever told me grief felt so like fear.” Lewis said grief is forever tied to love. The deeper we love, the deeper the wound. He added, “Grief reveals how costly love is.”

I have reflected much over these past few months about the sadness I feel at times of death and the very real grief I know others are experiencing after losing ones they love. Grief is messy. It is not polite. It does not fit neatly into our theological narrative about “a better home awaiting.” Grief feels like shock, confusion and disorientation.

You can hear the anguish of the psalmist in Psalm 6:6…

I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.

There is no one among us who cannot relate to the writer’s sense of loss.

Death, according to one commentary I read, occurs under God’s loving care and timing.

I’ll be honest with you here. I’m good with God’s loving care. I struggle sometimes with his timing. I don’t know if God routinely decides when it’s our time to go, but if he does, we’re going to have to talk about that when I see him. I often don’t understand death’s timing.

My Grandma Mills died when I was 13. My memories of her are all sweetness, love and Thanksgiving turkey. She gave such great hugs. She took care of the nursery at her church for years, loving on those babies like they were her own.

A well-meaning woman who attended Grandma’s memorial service told me afterwards that God must have needed her to “take care of those babies in heaven’s nursery.” I didn’t know whether I was hurt more by her insensitivity to the moment or by the thought that God took my grandmother because he needed her in his nursery. I needed her more.

Does our all-knowing and loving God know the number of days we will live? Yes, I believe scripture teaches us so. I find it difficult, however, to believe that an all-knowing and loving God planned for my grandmother to be killed by a drunk driver.

God didn’t create death in the beginning and call it “good.” Death and grief entered his creation as a consequence of human rebellion. Death became our reality when Adam ate his apple. Paul tells us that sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin. (Romans 5:12)

However, here’s the good news. Once sin entered the world, God maintained sovereignty and power over it. It is his power over death and grief that provides hope…not as wishful thinking…but hope as a blessed assurance of life in his presence for always and ever. God through Christ turns our present grief into future joy.

Even as he stared his own death in the face, Jesus, comforted and encouraged his disciples, acknowledging the certainty of what they would experience in the next few days.

I tell you the truth you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. (John 16:20)

I’ve spent the last eight weeks leading a Bible study at my church based on Jeremiah Johnston’s book A Body of Proof. While the book spent most of its pages outlining seven reasons to believe in the resurrection of Jesus, the Bible study guide spent most of its time focused on why the resurrection matters today.

While preparing for our last session, I came across an underlined verse in my Bible in Psalm 116, indicating I once read and noted it for some reason. Perhaps the last time I read it, death was more abstract than it is today because it landed with greater force this time. Read what it says…

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants. (Psalm 116:15)

Putting it in its context, Psalm 116 is a personal testimony of deliverance and gratitude. The psalmist praises God for hearing his cries of distress and rescuing him from death itself. Verse 15 sits in the middle of that reflection of God’s care for the faithful, emphasizing his sovereign awareness and his covenant love even at the point of death.

This isn’t a detached theological statement, but a deeply personal assurance that God’s love extends into the reality of death whenever it comes.

I use the word precious sparingly in my everyday conversations. About the only time I utter it is in reference my granddaughters. They are precious…adorable…beloved. Obviously, that’s not how the word is used in this passage. Death is neither adorable nor beloved.

The Hebrew word for precious described in Psalm 116 means costly, weighty or rare in value. It seems to say that God does not take the death of his faithful ones lightly or trivially. God assigns great value to the death of His people—not because death itself is good, but because it matters deeply to Him and is tenderly regarded by him.

Jesus, God’s own son, wept at the death of Lazarus and the anguish and grief of Lazarus’ sisters despite knowing what was about to happen. His tears reveal how much God values human life and especially the lives of those who trust in him.

That’s why in one of his parables about a good and faithful servant Jesus calls us to Come and share your master’s happiness. (Matthew 25:21) It’s also why Paul tells Timothy that he has fought the good fight and there is ready for him a crown of righteousness that will be awarded by the Lord when he dies.

God regards as valuable the life of one who has served him until death. He regards as equally valuable the death of one who has served him through life.

There’s another interesting phrase the psalmist uses in this passage that I find heartwarming.

…in the sight of the Lord…

Jesus tells us God knows when the sparrow falls and he knows the number of hairs on our head. Surely, then, God is keenly aware when one of his children dies. Think about that. When the psalmist said, in the sight of the Lord, that means no believer dies unnoticed or alone. No passing is random or outside the care of God, even if it happens suddenly or unexpectedly.

God is not distant. In the sight of the Lord means he is attentive and present at the time of death. I find that both incredible and incredibly comforting. The death of any believer matters to our Creator God.

Going back to Psalms 116, God can deliver from death. When he doesn’t deliver, he holds us in his presence. Immediately. In the moment that passes between physical death there comes a new awareness. In that instant, we are with him.

That’s why I find joy in a statement Paul makes to the believers in Rome.

For none of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone. If we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living. (Romans 14:7-9)

It’s true. I’ve lived more years than that old social studies book predicted. Every day now is, as they say in Louisiana, “lagniappe”…a bonus, an unexpected gift, a little something extra. Each day is a gift of grace from God.

He has caused us to be born again into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. (I Peter 1:3)

Like Peter, we can live in that hope. If you are a believer and have put your faith and trust in Jesus, your hope, your assurance, given its certainty in the resurrection of Christ.

That is why the resurrection of Jesus matters. Because of my faith in the resurrection, I know I will share in its promises of atonement, peace and hope for this present day.

Because of the resurrection power given to me by the spirit, I can continue to serve God for as long as he allows me to do so.

Because of resurrection hope, whenever I breathe my last breath, I know I will find myself immediately in the arms of the loving Lord who holds my life and death precious not just in that moment, but for all eternity.

It is a hope in which every believer can rest and rejoice.

Thinking Points

How does Psalm 116:15 reshape my understanding of how God regards the death of His people?

 

In what ways does the resurrection of Jesus give me hope not only for today’s grief, but for all eternity?

 

What would it look like to live each “lagniappe” day in resurrection hope? How would it change your approach to grace and purpose?

Dip Your Toe in the Jordan

Author’s Note: I wrote this article 10 years ago in the months after my retirement as superintendent in Pasadena ISD. As our church shared its baccalaureate ceremony last Sunday, I was reminded again of what it felt like long ago to have all my life ahead of me as today’s graduates now have. It seemed again a good message to share with them. Feel free to send it to the graduates in your life. KL

Focal Passage: Joshua 1:1-9

I walked on stage this year again as a part of yet another high school graduation. After a 30-year career in public education, I’ve participated in one form or another in more than 120 commencement exercises and watched roughly 65,000 young people end their high school careers. That means I’ve seen my share of beach balls. Heard my share of air horns. Watched my share of impromptu dances across the stage.

The faces of these graduates as they received that cherished piece of parchment paper reflected a mixture of joy and excitement, tinged with an underlying sense of dread. Each of them undoubtedly realized in the hours after they walked the stage that they faced a future that remained largely unknown despite all their plans and dreams.

As I watched the evenings unfold each year, the ceremony always reminded me of my own graduation from high school. The scope and venue were certainly different–NRG Stadium in Houston compared to my high school auditorium in Ropesville, Texas. Standing among classes ranging in size from 450 to 1,000 students compared to my class of 33.

The graduation ceremonies, regardless of time, place and size, meant the same today as they did in our yesterday. Each graduate ends that which is familiar to begin a future that will unfold before them in unexpected ways, taking them down paths beyond anything they can truly imagine. It will be confusing and chaotic. Exciting and exhilarating. Filled with joy and pain. Some will thrive amid the challenges of life. Others will wither under its pressure.

So, we watch these young people graduate from high school with a prayer on our lips and hope in our hearts that God will lead, guide and protect them through each day of their lives. I am certain, whether they know it or not, they will need his presence every step of the way.

Our culture calls it commencement. A beginning. I like to think of it as a commissioning. A challenge set before them to be all God needs them to be in whatever call of life he sets before them.

He faithfully served his God under the leadership of Moses. Chosen among the leaders of his tribe to sit among Moses’ council of advisors, Joshua played a significant role in leading the Hebrew people into the promised land. As a spy, Joshua refused to see the land of Canaan as a place of unconquerable giants and impenetrable fortress cities as others did. Rather, Joshua saw the land God promised as a land of milk and honey.

Because of his trust and faith in God, Joshua was given the task originally assigned to Moses. I picture him dipping is toe in the slow current of the River Jordan, staring across the value in the direction of Jericho. It is three days before he would give the command to his people to cross the river and enter the land of promise.

If he was anything like most of us, and I suspect he was, he fought an internal battle with his doubts and fears, voicing a prayer for strength and wisdom he felt he lacked. Joshua surely understood his future would be at times confusing and chaotic. Exciting and exhilarating. Filled with joy and pain. A future in which he could thrive amid the challenges and stumble under the pressure. Like our graduates today, I suspect the butterflies in Joshua’s stomach seem as large as eagles.

God chose that moment as his commencement. His commissioning. The Old Testament tells us that God gave his charge to the leader of his people as he stood with his toes in the Jordan. As a commission to those he calls to serve, it can encourage our graduates equally well as they prepare to encounter life after high school. And, it is good news indeed.

God said to Joshua…

“Be strong and very courageous. Obey the laws Moses gave you. Do not turn away from them and you will be successful in everything you do. Study this book of the Law continually. Meditate on it day and night so you may be sure to obey all that is written in it. Only then will you succeed. I command you…be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord you God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:7-9)

To those graduating from high school or college, know that God has a purpose for your life, just as he did when he told Joshua, “You will lead me people to possess all the land I promised to give their ancestors.” His plan is unique to you. To the heart he has given you. The skill sets you have learned and the talents you acquired along the way. I can almost guarantee you the plan will take you places you never thought you’d go. Watch for the doors that open and don’t hesitate to walk through them.

Following God’s path will not always be easy. Life will hit with cold reality that will lead to disappointment and discouragement. Yet it will also bless in glorious ways. God encouraged Joshua to “be strong and very courageous.” The door he opens may not be a threshold you wanted to cross. Step across it anyway with courage, conviction and confidence in the Father. A door may appear at times to be blocked. Overcome. Persevere. Rest on the promises of God.

God reminds us in this passage that success is contingent on our understanding of and obedience to the word of God. We leave high school and home desiring to exert our personal independence, to make our own choices and chart our own course in life. That’s the whole point of growing up.

Free of someone who wakes you on Sunday morning for church, it will be easy to sleep in…to set aside your faith. A word of caution. Now is not the time to express your independence from God. As you enter college or head into the work force to establish a home of your own, you will choose whether to abandon the relationship you have with Christ or to draw more deeply upon it. You have that choice.

God reminded Joshua not to stray from the teachings of God. To hold the word of God close to his heart. To mediate upon it. To study it. To draw from scripture the wisdom of God that enables us to deal with both the good and difficult times of life. This is the key to success.

Be careful also to recognize success through the eyes of God and not the eyes of the world. Success hinges upon your ability to stay focused and obedient to the plan God has for you. When we walk in his steps we walk on firm ground, able to experience joy and contentment in a life of service to the Father and to others.

As you can imagine and as the scripture tells us, Joshua and his people had to fight for all that God promised. The path God chose for Joshua as not easy. The hardships and heartaches were real. The difficulties must have seemed insurmountable at times where Joshua struggled with which way to turn and what he should do. He must have felt terribly alone at times.

You will almost certainly face hardships and heartaches throughout your life, hopefully in the measured grace of God’s blessings. You will face some of life’s hardest decisions, uncertain about which way to turn and what you should do.

Know this. God promised his presence. “…the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” It is a promise as true today as it was when Joshua stood with his toes in the Jordan River. Trust the promise. Trust in the one who made it. God will be with you wherever you go.

So the message of Joshua speaks these four things as clearly to me today as it should to you as a high school graduate.

God has a plan and purpose for each of us…in every phase of life.

He calls us to walk with strength and courage in obedience to his plan and purpose regardless of where it leads us.

We find that strength and courage and discover his will and wisdom only when seek him and immerse ourselves in his word.

Despite the difficulties that will most assuredly come, we can rest each day knowing that he will be with us wherever we go.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned and the one of which I am reminded with every graduation I attend. The challenge of graduation isn’t a one-time event. After you’ve tossed the cap and hung the tassel from the mirror of your car, you will take the next step in the life God has planned for you. You will dip your toes in the Jordan and step into the land his has promised. From that day forward, you will find another Jordan to cross. And another. And another. And another.

To every graduate out there, whether with the Class of 2026 or any class back through time, celebrate this special day. When it is over, dip your toes in the Jordan. You can’t imagine what God has planned for you!

Thinking Points

The following reflections are applicable to graduates as well as those of us who crossed that stage long ago. God is still asking all of us to dip our toes in the next Jordan. 

Where do I sense God opening a door in front of me, and what step of courage is He asking me to take as I cross my own “Jordan?”

 

How will I stay rooted in God’s Word as I step into independence, so that my success is shaped by His wisdom rather than the world’s expectations?

 

What current season of transition in my life feels like standing at the riverbank, and how is God calling me to be strong and courageous in it?

 

In what ways have I seen God’s faithfulness in past crossings, and how might remembering those moments strengthen my trust for the next one?

Choose Life

Focal Passage: Deuteronomy 30:19-20 and Romans 12:1-2

Baseball entered my bloodstream during the 1961 World Series when the New York Yankees defeated the Cincinnati Reds in five games. The New York dynasty bothered my Dad. He detested the Yankees, and, quite naturally, so did I.

While we grudgingly accepted the greatness of Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford, both of us had a soft spot for Yogi Berra. Catchers in the Major Leagues are generally among the more intelligent players on the team. Berra sounded like the exception.

“You can observe a lot just by watching.”

“It’s like deja vu all over again.”

Smart in practical, real-world ways, especially about baseball, teamwork, and reading situations quickly, Berra built a reputation for goofy sayings that made him a media darling.

I thought of one of my favorite Yogi quotes this week as I was doing my Bible study. He once said, “When you come to the fork in the road, take it.”

Psychologists say that people make as many as 35,000 decisions or choices of one kind or another every, single day. Rice Krispies or Cheerios? Sensodyne or Crest? Paper clips or staples?

Out of the millions of choices made over our lifetimes, those same psychologists say we make only a few hundred life-altering decisions. Buy or Rent? This job or that one? “I do” or I don’t?

Back in my college days, I asked a friend to tell me whom I should ask out on a date. He suggested one of two girls we knew who happened to be roommates. When I asked him which one, he said, “Just call. Ask the one who answers the phone.” The girl who answered the phone on that February night in 1973 has been my wife for over 50 years now.

Thankfully, sometimes God guides those all-important choices for us.

I might be wrong, but on most days, I’m not sure God cares if I go with the paper clips or staples. In the grand scheme of his plan for my life he’s probably less concerned about whether I use a brand recommended by dentists for sensitive teeth or a brand where I can cheerfully report, “Look, Ma! No cavities.”

There are, however, many choices we face that do matter in God’s will for our lives. Those are the ones to which we must pay attention. There is one choice more important than any other.

The Hebrew people didn’t always make the right choice. No one knew this better than Moses. He has seen Israel long for captivity in Egypt again after God had set them free. He had heard them grumble when they wanted something other than the manna God provided to sustain them in the desert. He stared in disbelief at a golden calf they created when they grew tired of waiting on God.

Moses watched them stand at the point of deliverance in Kadesh Barnea ready to enter the promised land only to back away in fear. Moses witnessed the death of an entire generation in the wilderness because of the choices they made.

This godly leader felt the consequences of poor decisions as he stood a second time on the precipice of the promised land, knowing he would not be allowed to enter because of his own disobedience.

Moses understood that life is full of consequential choices. After all of that history—after rebellion, regret, judgment, and mercy—Moses gathered this new generation of Israelites on the banks of the Jordan telling them they had a choice to make.

Read what he said.

This day I call on heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now, choose life… (Deuteronomy 30:19)

When Moses urges them to “choose life,” it is not a poetic flourish. He pleads with a people who have repeatedly chosen a path of destruction, even when another more blessed option was clearly offered.

At first glance it seems a simple choice. Who among us, even today, would not choose life and blessing over death and curses? Most scholars say that’s not really the choice we’re called to make. Life and blessing or death and curses are the results of what we choose.

Moses goes on to explain to the Hebrew people and to us what it looks like to choose life. Read further in the passage.

Choose life…that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice and hold fast to him. For the Lord is your life… (Deuteronomy 30:20)

Notice that God does not force the outcome. He invites a response.

Choose life.

The Hebrew word for choose used in this passage means “to select or decide after careful consideration. It is not a casual choice, nor is it an emotional one. It is intentional, suggesting loyal commitment. It is the same word used in covenant language when God “chooses” Israel.

Moses tells the people essentially, “Choose God the way God has chosen you.”

Interestingly, according to one commentary, the Hebrew word translated “life” in this passage is plural. It conveys the idea of life to its fullest; life in every dimension. Spiritual. Relational. Emotional. It mirrors the language of Jesus’ desire when he calls us to experience “abundant life.” Life as it was meant to be in God’s creation.

The people of Israel hear Moses tell them to carefully and deliberately commit to a path that leads to a true, full, God-centered life.

Moses doesn’t stop there. He tells them how to do it. It’s less about 10 commandments etched in stone and more about their relationship to God. Did you see it?

To love him.

To listen to his voice.

To hold fast to him.

There is a passage in Genesis where God declares, “Jacob I loved; Esau I hated.” The Hebrew words for love and hate are not about emotion. They are about choice. God chose Jacob as the one who would receive God’s promises. He did not choose Esau.

We are to choose God. To give him our devotion. Our adoration. Our loyalty. Our worship. Our trust. That’s what it means to love God.

We are to go past hearing God’s voice and deeply listening to his words. God stands ready to teach and guide those who chose him. His word is true and never fails. It is, as the Psalmist says, a “light unto my feet,” intended to guide our daily walk, even when we are surrounded by darkness. We are to listen to his voice.

As we live in relationship with God, we are to hold fast to him. The verb tense of the word suggests that holding on to God is not something done only once or only in difficult times. It means literally to keep on clinging to God. Hold on tightly. Don’t ever let go.

Think about that. Moses said, choose life by loving God, listening to his voice and clinging to him. The reason, he added, is simple. God is life. See it? Choose life. God is life. Therefore, choose God.

For a people about to enter a land where God was neither known nor worshipped, the choice Moses laid out was the only choice that would bring them the life God promised.

Every day, in a thousand small and large ways, you and I stand at Yogi’s fork in the road. Now, we have a choice between good or bad. Good or better. Better or best. Life or death. Blessing or curses.

When you get right down to it, we face the same choice the Hebrew people made long ago.

Will I love and trust God or will I depend on myself?

Will I listen to the voice of God and the whispers of his Holy Spirit or will I ignore what I hear?

Will I cling to Christ despite the circumstances or will I let myself drift away?

The good news is that God not only gives the command to choose—He gives the desire behind it. “Choose life” is not harsh; it is deeply compassionate and reveals the heart of God. Choose life is not an ultimatum, it is his expressed desire for all of us. It is as if God is saying, “This is the path that leads to joy, peace, and purpose. Walk in it, please! Come to me!”

It’s not just an Old Testament concept. Paul urged the Christian believers in Rome to choose life by offering themselves to God.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer yourselves as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:1-2)

In other words, give yourself to God in every way. Choose life.

Today, life will be set before you and I again and again. Not in one dramatic moment, but in a hundred quiet decisions…a hundred forks in the road.

Choose to love Him.

Choose to listen.

Choose to hold fast.

Because He is life.

Thinking Points

What choices have I made recently that indicate what I truly value and trust?

Where am I tempted to choose comfort, familiarity, or self reliance instead of choosing God?

What would it look like today for me to love God intentionally — with loyalty, devotion, and commitment?

 

How well am I listening for God’s voice rather than merely hearing His words?

 

In what circumstances do I need to cling to God more tightly instead of drifting or loosening my grip?

Love Matters

Focal Passages: Psalm 19:1-2, Psalm 8:1-4 and Mark 12:30

Theology is not always deep, but it is always rich in memory and meaning. Memory and meaning combined over the last few weeks to take me back over five decades.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…” (Genesis 1:1)

As a 15-year-old high school student, with the ambition, but probably not the aptitude, to be an astronaut, I sat on the floor of my aunt and uncle’s house in McGregor, Texas, watching a grainy telecast from the tiny Apollo 8 capsule as it orbited the moon on Christmas Eve.

Three men, Frank Borman, James Lovell and Bill Anders, were doing what no one had done before. They were orbiting the moon.

On the fourth orbit, just as they emerged from the far side of moon, Borman began reading the Genesis creation story. I’ll admit now what I tried to hide then. I blinked back tears welling up in my eyes.

There was certainly a sense of awe and pride as a young American watching the impossible unfold before my eyes. However, hearing those words reflecting on God’s handiwork and the awe-inspiring scene unfolding out the windows of that spacecraft affected me in ways I had not imagined possible.

As I watched the moon slide by with our earth so small in the background, I thought about God setting all of the universe in motion. It was as if God was saying, “See, I made all of this for mankind to gaze at and explore. Be good stewards of what I created for you. Live in it and enjoy the works my hands have made.”

God saw all that he had made and it was very good. (Genesis 1:31)

Very good, indeed.

Those Genesis verses came alive and real on that December day in 1968. It matters so little how God created all the beauty and wonder of the universe. That he created it all…that’s enough for me. It was enough on that Christmas Eve long ago. It was enough just days ago.

Today, I have a new memory, filled with meaning that has been refreshed and renewed.

I sat in my own living room last week inspired and in awe again of manned spaceflight. I watched another mind-boggling mission around the moon unfold…this time on an Easter Sunday.

Even one with little interest in the space program must appreciate the courage and professionalism of astronauts Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch and Jeremy Hansen. I can only imagine the technical skills of all those engineers and scientists behind the effort. Their God-given talents combined to enable an almost flawless mission.

The videos and photographic images sent to earth from crew aboard Artemis II were stunning in detail, context and stark beauty. I found myself studying the images again, with the same sense of wonder I did in 1968. I listened to the conversations between the astronauts and mission-control as they let their enthusiasm get the better of their professionalism. You could hear the joy and amazement in their voices.

I could not look on the scenes unfolding on television without the words from Apollo 8 echoing in my heart.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…

Victor Glover, pilot of the Artemis II mission, is a man unashamed of his faith. He is a U. S. Navy Captain and NASA astronaut who integrates his faith seamlessly into his work while doing things I only dreamed of doing.

In a recent interview, Glover said, “My career is fed by my faith. Anytime I do something that’s pretty risky, I pray. Before I fly, every time I fly. Definitely when I go sit on top of a rocket ship.”

Glover said that working at NASA has opened doors to talk about creation and faith. Certainly, flying around the moon gave him an unique perspective of God’s creation. In a broadcast from Artemis II as they approached the moon, Glover used that moment to reflect on what it meant to look at both the moon and earth suspended in the blackness of space.

“When I read the Bible, I think of this amazing place that we have—this ‘spaceship called Earth’—that was created to give us a place to live.” He added, “In all of this emptiness, you have this oasis, this beautiful place that we get to exist together.”

Like I did back in 1968, I listened to those heartfelt words, this time with more mature tears in my eyes. I could not help but think of words written by the Psalmist so very long ago.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day, they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. (Psalm 19:1-2)

The writer seems to be telling us the more we study God’s universe, the more we see his hand in it. The more we see up close all he created, the more we will learn about him. It’s a thought echoed by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Christians in Rome.

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. (Romans 1:20)

God’s fingerprints are present in all creation, teaching us about his handiwork. That truth is readily seen by those with a heart open to his presence.

The psalmist sensed a richer purpose for creation. It’s not just about the glory of creation. There is purpose behind it.

Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens…When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? (Psalm 8:1, 3-4)

That’s a heady thought, isn’t it?

God, the creator, is mindful of all humanity.

The phrase in Hebrew suggests more than just thinking about us occasionally. It carries a sense of active remembrance. Paying attention with intent. Caring enough to intervene. In other words, the creator of the universe intentionally keeps you and me in his thoughts in ways that actively demonstrate his love and care for us.

I should celebrate and stand in awe of the beauty and wonder of creation, but that’s not really the point. God pulled creation together to give us a place to live together in relationship to him and to each other because God cares. God loves us.

Glover spoke more about that when he returned to earth. Reflecting on the success of the mission and all he and this crew had seen, Glover said. “As we continue to unlock the mystery of the cosmos, I’d like to remind everyone that love matters.”

He’s so right. As serene as our world seems from space, it is a chaotic place, filled with too much division and hate. It is a world that often fails to see the God who created all this; the God who loves us so much that he sent his son as the atoning sacrifice for your sins and mine.

Loving God and loving one another does matter.

In response to a challenge from an inquisitive Pharisee, Jesus affirmed God’s greatest commandments.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself. There are not greater commandments than these. (Mark 12:30)

I think that’s one of the things I took away as the wonders of the universe on display during the Artemis mission. I see that sliver of “blue marble” hanging in space and realize, as Glover said, “Love matters.”

As I said from the start. It’s not the deepest theology, but it may indeed be the richest

Now, it’s just up to you and me to live like love matters.

If we can do that, then I think we can hear God say, “It’s very good!”

Thinking Points

When have I last paused long enough to let creation stir awe in me, and what did that moment reveal about God’s character?

 

In what ways am I living as a steward of God’s creation — not just the physical world, but the people He has placed around me?

 

How does knowing that the Creator of the universe is mindful of me reshape the way I see my worth, my worries, and my daily life?

 

If Jesus says that loving God and loving others are the greatest commandments, what would it look like for me to live this week as if “love matters”?