Peace in a World Full of Conflict

By / Mar 3

The familiar car pulled into the church parking lot. As the driver stepped out, my stomach tightened and my heart raced. This churchgoer had a history of sharp words toward me, and I knew he had been involved in conflicts I’d mediated for others. My mind spiraled: “What is he going to say today? What problems will I have to fix afterward?”

This is the reality of life beyond the confines of the Garden of Eden in which you and I fall prey to the schemes of pot-stirrers.

What is a Pot-Stirrer?

A pot-stirrer is simply someone who causes unrest. Some stir directly, through insults, criticism, or gossip. Others stir indirectly, drawing us into conflicts by complaining about or criticizing others in our hearing. Either way, pot-stirrers drag us into disputes we were never meant to carry.

Instead of cultivating the fruit of the Spirit, such as peace (Gal. 5:22), pot-stirrers often provoke the works of the flesh: enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, and envy (5:20–21).

So how can Christians experience peace in a world full of pot-stirrers?

Psalm 11: A Refuge in the Midst of Conflict

As David penned Psalm 11, he was clearly tempted to be stirred up by others and against others. “The wicked bend the bow,” he wrote (v. 2). “They have fitted their arrow to the string to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart.” Yet as David remembered the One who was in control of everything, he felt peace regarding circumstances beyond his control.

In verse 4, David proclaimed, “The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven; his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man.” By describing the heavenly throne room, David confessed the Lord’s sovereignty over all human dealings. Nothing takes Him by surprise. Nothing escapes His notice.

Not only is the Lord sovereign, but He is also righteous. Verse 5 says, “His soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence,” with verse 6 describing the consequences for those who act unjustly: fire, sulfur, and a scorching wind. The Lord is not neutral toward those who cause harm, nor will He abandon His people. As verse 7 says, “The upright shall behold his face.”

Psalm 11 is David’s confession that the Lord sees all things, works through all things, and will one day bring justice. When the wicked or unjust attempted to disturb his peace, these truths gave David confidence to take refuge in the Lord rather than fleeing in fear (v. 1).

Stability in a World of Conflict

The Lord does not change (Mal. 3:6). Christians can draw peace from Psalm 11, just as David did. We can remain steady when tensions arise, remembering that God remains on His throne, sees all things, works through all things, and promises to bring justice in His time.

The gospel strengthens this peace. Jesus left heaven’s throne to enter a world full of tension and provocation. The devil tempted Him to doubt the Father (Matt. 4:3, 6). The disciples tried to provoke Him to react against Samaritans (Luke 9:54). The high priest sought to unsettle Him with false accusations (Mark 14:60). Yet Jesus remained confident in the Father, secure in His identity, and faithful to the work to which He had been called.

Jesus’ righteousness covers us, both for when we are tempted to react and for when others create tension around us. His death assures us that those who act unjustly will ultimately face God’s justice (Col. 2:15), and His resurrection gives the Holy Spirit to cultivate peace in our hearts (John 14:26).

The gospel gives us peace in a world where tensions and conflicts are inevitable.

How to Respond to Those Who Cause Conflict

When others try to involve us in disputes, Psalm 11 reminds us that God sees all things and will judge all things. We can embrace God’s sovereignty and pray for His will to be done, trusting that we are not responsible for resolving every conflict ourselves. We can be concerned. We can pray. But in most cases, we don’t have to carry someone else’s emotional chaos as our own.

When someone challenges or criticizes us directly, we can follow David’s example and take refuge in the Lord. If their words are true, we can respond in repentance, knowing that Christ has already paid the penalty for our sin. If their words are false, we can trust God to uphold us and vindicate us: “For the Lord is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold his face” (Ps. 11:7).

In all situations, we can entrust those who cause conflict to God’s judgment. He is not neutral toward wrongdoing, yet He remains stable and faithful.

Guided by Psalm 11, may we live likewise: secure in God’s sovereignty and peace, even in the midst of conflict.



When “Not Enough Faith” Is Still More Than Enough for Jesus

By / Feb 26

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen” (Eph. 3:20–21).

I was in my early twenties when we buried my aunt. She had been the bright center of our family—the one with the booming laugh and lipstick kisses, the woman who never had daughters but poured every ounce of girl-mom love into her nieces. She taught us how to be sophisticated in a fun yet modest way. She spoiled us rotten.

Then cancer struck—quick and merciless. My faith at that moment felt too weak even to whisper a prayer. Nonetheless, while we declared aloud, “God is going to heal her,” inside, we were terrified. We stuffed the fear so deep it never saw the light of day. We smiled bravely and kept hope alive, as if our positivity could influence God’s hand.

The night she died, the hospital hallway swallowed my mother’s scream. A few days later, her casket disappeared into soft Florida dirt, and something in me snapped shut. I didn’t rage at God; I just quietly concluded that my faith wasn’t strong enough. Our prayers weren’t enough.

I decided some graves stay closed because the people praying over them simply don’t have what it takes.

That day became my pattern. Every later disappointment got the same verdict: buried fast, labeled “I’m not enough,” and guarded by shame.

A dream that died—my fault.

A relationship that ended—my prayers too weak.

A sin I couldn’t shake—proof I’ll never measure up.

I became an expert at sealing tombs and then standing watch so no one, especially Jesus, would come near with any wild talk of resurrection.

We all do this, don’t we? We pronounce things dead, blame our own insufficient faith, and bolt the door.

But Jesus has never once waited for our faith to be big enough before He starts kicking stones away.

Look at Lazarus. Four days dead, body decaying. Martha greets Jesus with the same verdict I carried: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21). And when He says, “Roll the stone away,” she objects, “Lord, there will be an odor.” In other words: It’s too late. The faith window closed. Jesus doesn’t lecture her on belief levels. He doesn’t measure the size of anyone’s mustard seed. He simply calls the dead man by name and death is no more.

Or the two disciples on the Emmaus Road, trudging away with hearts in the grave. They confess their disappointment in the past tense: “We had hoped…” (Luke 24:21). Their faith is ashes. The Risen One doesn’t wait for them to muster hope. He walks beside their unbelief, opens Scripture, breaks bread—and suddenly the dead Man is the living Host.

Even Ezekiel in the valley of bones isn’t asked to produce faith first. “Can these bones live?” God asks. Ezekiel’s honest answer is the only one any of us ever has when standing over real graves: “O Lord God, only you know.” To God be the glory, the Spirit breathes life back into those bones anyway. Because the quality of our believing has never powered resurrection; it is powered by the relentless love of the One who believes for us when we cannot.

I finally quit standing guard over my aunt’s grave. That moment was a defining one for our family (and not in a good way). I presented my case: “God, I don’t have enough faith to roll any stone. I still think You said no because we weren’t enough. I’m mad and tired and done pretending. Do whatever You want, but I’m out of hope.” I expected silence. Instead, slowly, gently, and over a long period of time, Jesus met me in my unbelief—not with rebuke, but with Himself.

He is the one who was buried so that no grave, not even the ones we lock with shame and small faith, could ever hold final authority.

So bring Him your grave today, no matter how you feel—faithless, furious, or just numb. You don’t have to feel hopeful. You don’t have to manufacture belief. Just whisper the smallest, most honest version of “Lord God, only You know.”

Tell one safe person who will remind you that resurrection never depended on you in the first place. Then let Ephesians 3:20–21 be the truth that prays for you when you can’t: He is able to do far more than all we ask or even think—especially when we have stopped asking and thinking altogether.

Jesus still crashes funerals. He doesn’t stand outside waiting for us to get our faith act together. He walks straight through the door we bolted and calls our names anyway.

And to Him—the One who refused to stay dead and who refuses to let our weak faith have the final word—be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.



Six Gospel Antidotes to Anxiety

By / Feb 24

We live in an anxious world. While these are certainly challenging times, in Christ we do not have to be anxious. We have a Father in heaven who knows us, loves us, and provides for our needs. Our Father is not anxious, and neither must we be. In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus gives us six antidotes for the spiritual ailment of anxiety (Matt. 6:25–34).

  1. Repent of the Sin of Anxiety 

Three times in Matthew 6:25–34, Jesus commands us not to be anxious: “Do not be anxious about your life” (v. 25), “Therefore do not be anxious” (v. 31), and “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow” (v. 34). Anxiety has become an accepted sin in our day. It is often treated as a purely physical condition rather than a spiritual issue. But humans are a composite of body and soul. Our physical bodies affect our spiritual well-being, and our spiritual well-being affects our bodies. Sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is eat, drink, rest, or sleep (see 1 Kgs. 19:4–8). Alongside these practical steps, we are called to trust God and turn from the worry that displaces faith in Him.

  1. Rely on God’s Loving Provision 

In verse 25, Jesus asks, “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” He argues from the greater to the lesser: if God has given you life and a body (the greater), He is certainly capable of providing food and clothing (the lesser).

In verse 26, He points to nature: “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Birds wake up each day with enough to eat. If God cares for the birds (the lesser), He will certainly care for us (the greater).

In verses 28–30, Jesus gives a second illustration about clothing: “Consider the lilies of the field… even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field… will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” If God adorns the grass and flowers with beauty (the lesser), He will surely clothe us (the greater).

  1. Realize Anxiety’s Ineffectiveness 

In verse 27, Jesus asks, “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” The answer is obvious: nobody. Anxiety accomplishes nothing; in fact, it is counterproductive. Psalm 139:16 reminds us, “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” The Lord has sovereignly ordained the number of our days before we were even born. Worrying about our life will not extend it beyond the days that God has given us.

  1. Remember God’s Omniscience

In verses 31–32, Jesus says, “Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ Or ‘What shall we drink?’ Or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.” God knows and provides for our needs. While we may think we understand what we need, He sees the full picture far better than we ever could.

  1. Rank Spiritual Needs Over Physical Needs 

Verses 31–32 show that the Gentiles prioritize food, drink, and clothing. Secular people are often preoccupied with their physical needs at the expense of their spiritual wellbeing. It is no accident that Jesus taught about storing treasure in heaven rather than on earth just before addressing anxiety. The more we accumulate earthly treasures, the more tempted we are to worry about protecting, increasing, and holding onto them. As Jesus said in Matthew 6:21, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”?

But what does Jesus call us to do instead? In verse 33, He says, “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” To seek the kingdom of God is to submit to Christ’s rule and reign in our hearts. It means turning in repentance and faith to King Jesus and pursuing the practical righteousness of God—bringing every aspect of our lives under His will. Seeking the kingdom means prioritizing His rule over building our own, trusting that God will provide for our needs as we faithfully follow Him.

  1. Refocus on the Present 

In verse 34, Jesus says, “Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Here, He highlights that anxiety is often future-focused. Instead of worrying about what is ahead, we are called to focus on the present, because God has given us enough grace for today’s challenges. Just as the Israelites collected manna daily, and as Jesus teaches us in the Lord’s Prayer—“Give us this day our daily bread”—God provides for each day in its time. He desires a daily, trusting relationship with us. We are to live fully in today, not wishing it away for tomorrow, and be content with what the Lord has graciously given.



A Practice for Pastoral Endurance

By / Feb 23

For the pastor, a life of piety can sometimes become a professional hazard. We are expected to be the most “spiritual” person in the room, yet we are frequently the most depleted. When the work of the ministry becomes a barrier to the God of the ministry, we fall into a subtle but soul-crushing trap: We begin to treat God as an employer to be satisfied rather than a Father to be known.

I don’t know about you, but I relate to my boss very differently than I relate to my father. When we operate out of a “report-driven” prayer life, we offer up the church’s metrics and the stressors of the budget, but we rarely offer up ourselves. We begin to mimic the religious leaders Jesus warned against in Matthew 6:5—those who “love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others.” For them, prayer was a public performance, a professional requirement.

To break this cycle, we must prioritize how we engage in disciplines that stir our affections for Christ. We need a framework that shifts our posture from giving God a status report to simply abiding in His presence.

The Goal: Life with God

We need a framework for prayer that is rooted in the biblical story. If we were to trace the narrative of Scripture from beginning to end, we find a singular, driving theme: The good news that life with God is available to all who put their faith in Jesus.

Consider this “one-minute biblical theology”:

  • Adam and Eve living with God in the garden.
  • Abraham trusting God for a family.
  • Moses enjoying friendship with God.
  • Israel with God in the wilderness, the kingdom, and the temple.
  • The Prophets hearing directly from God’s voice.
  • Jesus entering our world to dwell—to tabernacle.

Jesus’ first message was that the Kingdom of God is here. John tells us that Jesus offers us eternal life. The Holy Spirit descends to dwell in us and build His church. Finally, the story ends with Jesus returning so that man and God can dwell together on earth forever.

Life with God, now and forever, is the goal of the gospel. Therefore, prayer is fundamentally about life with God. He has wired us in His image as relational beings; therefore, we must relate to Him in a relational way. The goal of prayer is connection to God and opening our hearts to Him, not simply requesting what we want.

Intimacy requires communication. Years ago, on my first date with my wife, we ordered our food and she began to ask me questions about my life. Imagine if I had said, “Nope! Not here to talk. I just want to eat.” The relationship wouldn’t have lasted. Why? Because intimacy requires communication. Communion with God requires conversation with God.

The Practice: Sitting with the Father

In the Gospel of Luke, we see that for Jesus, prayer was the source of His endurance. He frequently withdrew to lonely places—not as an escape, but as an essential withdrawal into the presence of His Father. The disciples saw the miracles, but they didn’t ask for a “how-to” on walking on water; they asked, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). Jesus responded by directing them to the Father.

I want to invite you to step away from your desk and practice this specific rhythm. Find a quiet corner of your campus, a hallway, a bench, or a spot in the back of the room. For the next fifteen minutes, sit in the silence.

This is where we engage a sanctified imagination. This isn’t about “making things up” or escaping into fantasy; it is the act of using our minds to lay hold of the spiritual reality Scripture declares to be true.

Our theology tells us that because of the work of Christ, we have bold access to the throne of grace. The imagination simply allows us to believe that the Father is as present with us in this room as He was with the Son in the wilderness.

Acknowledge that you are in the presence of your Heavenly Father. He isn’t asking for your quarterly report; He is looking at you, His child, with favor because of Christ. In this space of presence, listen as He speaks to you, inviting you to hear His questions and reflect on His heart:

1. How are you doing?

Ignore the ministry stats for a moment. Look deeper than the “success” or “failure” of the church. How is your soul? Are you weary, joyful, or numb? How is your body—are you carrying tension, lacking sleep, or feeling the weight of the week? Speak to Him about the whole of your life, not just your professional heart.

2. Where have you noticed me at work recently?

Where have you seen His grace in the small, unscripted moments? Perhaps it was a conversation in the grocery store, a moment of peace during a hectic morning, or a specific verse that stuck with you. Look for the fingerprints of the Father in the ordinary.

3. What do you need from me?

Admit your needs without the filter of “pastoral strength.” Do you need wisdom for a specific conflict? Do you need the courage to rest? Do you simply need to feel the assurance of His love? Be specific about the areas where you are at the end of your own resources.

4. What do you want from me?

What are the honest desires of your heart? We often suppress our “wants” in the name of ministry, but the Father cares about the longings too. What are you hoping for? What are you dreaming about? Bring these desires into the light of His presence.

5. What do you need to trust me with?

What burden are you carrying today that actually belongs to Him? Is it the spiritual growth of a certain member? The future of the building project? The health of your own family? Identify the weight you were never meant to carry and consciously hand it over to the One who sustains all things.

I am convinced that prayer is the power of our endurance. When the weight of the ministry feels heavy, remember that the King of the universe is not waiting for your results; He is inviting you into His presence.

Step out of the office and back into the relationship. You don’t have to be a “professional” in the presence of the Father; you only have to be a son. Let the work of the Gospel wait for fifteen minutes while you enjoy the God of the Gospel. He is there, He is kind, and He is enough.



Godly Motherhood and Pinterest Dreams: The Mom I Long to Be

By / Feb 19

Pin This: Carefree at the Beach

A beautiful woman with perfectly windswept hair holds the hand of a tan, pudgy toddler. On the beach in swimsuit bottoms, with cellulite-free legs and a sweatshirt that looks effortless yet classic all at once, the mother looks on adoringly as the sun sets slowly behind her. The toddler has salty curls and a gap-tooth smile, in a diaper that somehow has not absorbed any sea water. It’s a photo unlike any beach day I’ve had with my children.

I stumbled upon this photo on Pinterest today. The algorithm has me absolutely pegged. I stared at the picture for a long while, pondering what it might be like to be her. The photo itself is stunning, but what I gathered from it is much more than beauty. I saw a mother, carefree at the beach. Despite sand and the possibility of her toddler drowning, she looked more at ease than I have in years. Despite having birthed a child not even a year prior, what’s represented of her body is flawless. The sweatshirt hangs at just the right angle, her leg muscles clearly toned. Where in the world did she find the time to have such a figure? The beach looks foreign and expensive. I’m not sure how you make a beach look expensive, but this photographer has done it.

More than the envy I stuff down at the sight of her, I also admire her. She must be a mom who values fun for her child over sand in the carpet of her minivan. I’ll bet she doesn’t even own a minivan—clearly not one concerned too much with convenience. She looks like a mom who doesn’t stay up worried about the cough her baby has. She probably lets people wear shoes in her house. A picture of ease and serenity, right down to the perfect smile plastered on her face.

This fictitious mother of my Pinterest dreams represents all the things I am not. She represents one of the mothers I want to be. I’m drawn to the beauty of these photos depicting motherhood, but I stay for what I can see underneath. Even if it’s a facade, I still re-pin the mirage of mothers I long to emulate.

Pin This: Flour and Laughter in the Kitchen

A disheveled kitchen, a toddler, a baby, and a mother laugh at the flour on the counter. Her apron is linen, of course, and her hair is pulled back in a claw clip hairstyle that must have taken years to perfect. The toddler has flour in her hair and on her hands, dressed in a neutral outfit that, despite the mess, still looks cute. The baby is diaper-clad, perfect little rolls even more delicious than the cookies they’ve baked. The kitchen is my dream: perfect backsplash, quartz countertops. It’s a photo of fun, wealth, and style—ideal motherhood.

But what really catches my eye is the way the mother looks at her children. She seems to have time for them, enough to make a big mess in the kitchen and not worry about having to clean it up. She’s the mom who helps her kids learn valuable skills like cooking and cleaning. I bet she doesn’t mind cleaning up twice to teach them. She’s talented in the kitchen, that much is clear.

These moms have strengths where my biggest insecurities lie: too much focus on keeping things clean, too much focus on convenience, the fact that my daughter wears mismatched clothing every single day.

Pin This: Crying, Yet Clinging to God

A mother in a booger-smeared shirt, her hair hasn’t been washed in… how many days? Who knows at this point. She’s holding a baby who is crying. The toddler next to her on the couch is also crying. And guess what she’s doing? Crying, too. The couch she’s sitting on has piles of laundry half folded; she’s barefoot in an old wrestling shirt from her husband’s drawer. The toddler is still in pajamas despite it being 2 p.m. Their leftover breakfast sits in the background. It’s probably lunch time, but she still hasn’t mustered up the energy to make it. Next to the breakfast is an open Bible, marked with pen and weathered by many spills of sippy cups. If you could hear this photo, you’d hear hymns playing in the background.

What you can’t see is a mother doing her very best. Yes, she’s crying because this whole motherhood thing is harder than she ever thought possible. Yet her heart clings to the Lord in moments of intense emotion, toddler tantrums, and infant sleeplessness. You can’t see the quiet work God is doing in the heart of this mother. You can’t see the men and women her babies will grow up to be, having seen an imperfect yet forgiven mother who cultivated a home of joy, hard work, discipleship, and love.

We can make many assumptions about the photos we see. We can long for the perfection depicted in tiny boxes on a glowing screen. Yet what truly matters in the eyes of the Lord, the hearts of our children, and in our souls, is the glorious work God is doing through the holy and hard moments of mothering. For every Pinterest mother we crave to be, God is molding in us a beauty that cannot be captured in photos. Just as the photos we see cannot paint the whole picture, moments of our motherhood cannot be displayed in snapshots. Our mothering is so much more than a clean home or messy baking in the kitchen. The best mothers are those who have their eyes fixed on Christ and who, by His Spirit, are growing alongside their children.

Pin This: A Mom Devoted to God’s Glory

A mother joyous and hopeful as she gently stewards her children, her home, and her days for God’s glory.

That’s a picture I’d gladly add to my Pinterest board. Not because it’s perfect, styled, or staged, but because it’s real. It’s a mother whose worth isn’t measured by sand-free feet, flourless counters, or a flawless smile—it’s measured by faithfulness, love, and by the quiet, unseen work God is doing in her heart and in the hearts of her children. That is the kind of motherhood worth admiring, aspiring to, and celebrating.



The Silent Killer: Comfort

By / Feb 17

Searching Google for “the silent killer” reveals that high blood pressure is the most common answer. High blood pressure is a silent killer because it can go undetected and untreated, eventually leading to other health complications and hastening death. The CDC reports it as a risk factor for heart disease and stroke, the two leading causes of death in America.[1]

Arguably, there is a more dangerous silent killer than high blood pressure—especially for Christians. That killer is comfort. Christians must be on guard against comfort, since it can quietly erode spiritual health.

Not all comfort is wrong. One of the roles of the Holy Spirit is to bring comfort to believers (John 14:16; 15:26; 16:7). Receiving comfort from the Spirit is not wrong, nor is comforting others; in fact, we should (2 Cor. 13:11; 1 Thess. 4:18; 5:11; Heb. 3:13).

The danger lies in making comfort a priority—living an easy, carefree life that avoids stress, grief, or restriction. No rational person seeks hardship intentionally, but we can wrongly prioritize comfort. We may convince ourselves that God wants us at ease in this life, so we pursue comfortable careers, homes, amenities, and retirements. When comfort becomes our aim, we lose sight of the fact that the Christian life is often marked by disciplined effort, not stress-free living.

Comfort is a silent killer because, if left unchecked, it erodes discipline, which leads to both physical and spiritual consequences. Discipline helps us set goals, stay focused, and do the hard work necessary to achieve them. Seeking comfort, by contrast, encourages laziness and undermines progress.

Seeking comfort is antithetical to achieving hard-won goals. A person desiring to be physically fit needs discipline to maintain a healthy diet and exercise regimen. Athletes who wish to improve at their sport must train consistently. A student desiring a 4.0 GPA must study and put in the necessary work. Growing spiritually is no different.

Paul wrote to the Thessalonians—and, by extension, to all Christians—that “this is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Thess. 4:3). Sanctification means becoming holy, overcoming sin, and dedicating ourselves to God. We grow in sanctification by pursuing godliness—earnest devotion to God that fosters holiness and pleases Him.

Paul instructed Timothy to avoid “pointless and irreverent myths” and instead “train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Tim. 4:7b–8). The Greek behind “train” implies athletic-style, disciplined effort. Some translations render it “discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness.” Like Timothy, all Christians are commanded to exercise discipline continually to grow in godliness and sanctification.

Comfort is dangerous because it quietly opposes this discipline and promotes spiritual laziness. In his book, Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life, Donald Whitney notes that growing in godliness requires actively engaging in Bible intake, prayer, worship, evangelism, service, stewardship, fasting, journaling, and learning. Each requires intentional effort—none happens automatically.

Without discipline, a Christian cannot grow in godliness, and spiritual growth stalls; a stalled Christian is an ineffective Christian. Christians are not called to pursue comfort, but Christlikeness and godliness. Christians must prioritize discipline over comfort.

Prioritizing discipline means setting appropriate spiritual goals, engaging in spiritual disciplines, actively seeking to kill sin, and serving the Lord with our gifts and talents. Achieving growth in godliness, sanctification, and service requires discipline to stay on task and do the hard work.

We must self-assess to ensure we have not fallen into the silent trap of comfort: What have you prioritized in your life? An easy, stress-free life? A comfort-bringing career? A comfortable retirement? We must live responsibly—careers and saving are necessary and wise—but we must guard against prioritizing a comfortable life at the expense of discipline, godliness, and service to the Lord.

Dear Christian, we are called to a life of discipline and labor for our Lord Jesus and His Kingdom. We are not called to seek an easy or comfortable life with all the amenities we want. Let us prioritize discipline, not comfort, so that we may grow in godliness, sanctification, and service. If you let comfort replace discipline in your life, there will be unhealthy physical and spiritual consequences.

Christians, beware of comfort—the silent spiritual growth killer.

[1] Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “Hypertension,” Health, United States, National Center for Health Statistics, https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/hus/topics/hypertension.htm.



A Prayer for Students

By / Feb 16

Editor’s Note: The following prayer was offered by John D. Meade, Professor of Old Testament at Midwestern Seminary, as the benediction at the spring 2026 chapel convocation.

Our Father and our God, we come before you today to ask for your blessing on these students and the semester ahead. I pray for our students that you grant them the joy of discovery in their classes, that some lesson or significant nuance from your Word would fascinate and captivate each of their minds. Indeed, your Word says that it is the glory of God to conceal a matter and it is the glory of kings to search out a matter. May that be true of our students this semester as they read, research, write, preach, and present in their classes and seminars.

But even above learning, O God, bless these students with progress in sanctification this semester. I pray they would put to death the old man with all its sinful desires and put on the new man created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness. When tempted to sin against you, may they choose you and the pleasures that are at your right hand forevermore.

Finally, I pray, O Lord, that you would continue to use this faculty and staff in significantly instrumental ways in the lives of these students as this institution continues to train and fashion ministers of Christ for service in the church and in the marketplace. Without you energizing our work, O Lord, we know that we work in vain. So, God, bless our efforts and establish the work of our hands in 2026.

Thank you for your faithfulness to us, O Lord, and it is in the matchless name of Christ Jesus, we pray. Amen.



Christian Community Is Not About Your Comfort

By / Feb 12

The desire for community often leads Christians astray because our picture is distorted. What does community look like? A Google image search for “community” returns the same image again and again: people standing in a circle, arms around each other, faces turned inward. Even adding “Christian community” doesn’t change much—only now some are praying.

Often, this becomes our perfect picture: find a group of friends, grow in depth, share life together… and never have to do it again. But a close circle quickly becomes a closed circle. This may be community, but it is not Christian community. One distinctive of Christian community is that it eagerly welcomes new people.

The Challenge of Christian Community

Jesus’ disciples knew what it meant to have a close circle. For three years they walked with Him, ministering side by side, building the kind of community most of us dream of. After His resurrection, they might have thought their group was safe again. But then Jesus said, “I’m leaving, and I want you to leave too. Go to the ends of the earth” (Matt. 28:18–20). The circle wasn’t meant to stay sealed; it was meant to break open.

The book of Acts describes this new reality: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to prayer… Every day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved” (Acts 2:42, 47). Historian Rodney Stark observes that Christianity created a culture that offered, “to cities filled with newcomers and strangers…an immediate basis for attachments.”[1]

No longer a small, tight group—new people were added every day. That can sound exciting: revival, growth, answered prayers. But imagine if that happened in your church or small group. A group of 12 gains a new person on Monday, but by the end of the week, dynamics have shifted. It doesn’t even feel like the same group anymore.

This tension presses on every church. Do we really want the 40 million people who have stopped coming to church to return? Would we welcome them—not just through our doors, but into our lives? If this is our calling, a distinctive mark of Christian community, what can help us become this kind of people?

Remember God’s Heart

Paul exhorts, “Welcome one another, just as Christ also welcomed you, to the glory of God” (Rom. 15:7). God’s heart is not for an exclusive club. Jesus came “to seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10). He has always been gathering a people to Himself, a Father eager to expand His family.

Think of parents who long to grow their family. When they learn of a new pregnancy, they rejoice, announce it, celebrate with gifts and photos. That desire and joy, multiplied infinitely, reflects God’s heart for adding people to His family—our neighbors, co-workers, cities, and families. The question for us is simple: Do I share God’s heart?

Remember How God Welcomed Us

Paul says:

Brothers and sisters, consider your calling: Not many were wise from a human perspective, not many powerful, not many of noble birth. Instead, God has chosen what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen what is weak in the world to shame the strong. God has chosen what is insignificant and despised in the world—what is viewed as nothing—to bring to nothing what is viewed as something, so that no one may boast in His presence. It is from Him that you are in Christ Jesus, who became wisdom from God for us—our righteousness, sanctification, and redemption (1 Cor. 1:26–30).

He’s saying, “I want you to think about how God saved you and let that affect how you relate with others.” So let’s consider some of the ways God has welcomed us.

  1. Without Distinction

I remember talking to someone once who said, “I know there must be something so awesome about me that Jesus would die for me.” It’s actually the reverse. There’s something so bad about us that Jesus had to die for us. The point isn’t to be impressed with ourselves that God would pick us—it’s to be impressed with God.

God didn’t welcome us based on our intelligence, success, or family pedigree. He welcomed the overlooked, weak, and ordinary. He welcomed people from broken families, poverty, or scandal. He welcomed sinners of every stripe.

This means we don’t unite with others because we are alike. We unite because we share one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father of all (Eph. 4:5–6).

  1. Deeply

God didn’t just forgive us; He adopts us. Paul says we are brothers and sisters and that we are “in Christ Jesus”.

He doesn’t just give you a second chance or wipe the slate clean; He brings us deeply into life with Him.

I tell our church all the time, “nobody is looking for a friendly church, but they are looking for friends.” If people want friendly, they can talk to the greeter at Walmart. We don’t just want to be friendly; we want to actually extend friendship.

That means inviting people into our lives: inviting people to your small group, meals after church, coffee on a Tuesday, playdates at the park, dinner, camping, etc. Think: when’s the last time you invited someone new into your life?

  1. Pursuit

God didn’t sit back and wait. He pursued us. The Spirit convicts not to condemn, but to draw us back. We have the same calling: to “pursue hospitality” (Rom. 12:13). Hospitality is not just hosting friends; it is the love of strangers. Pursuit requires intentionality, planning, and effort. It’s not optional or only for those “gifted with hospitality.” It’s a command and a continual pattern meant to shape our lives as a community. Are you actively pursuing others outside your circle?

Hard, but Beautiful

Open-circle community is beautiful, but not easy. Adding new people changes dynamics, complicates life, and challenges comfort and security. That’s why the epistles are filled with commands to be patient, make peace, love, forgive, and bear with one another. Welcoming others carries a cost—time, money, energy—but that cost reflects the gospel itself. Jesus bore the cost of welcoming us into God’s family. When we extend that welcome, we display His glory and reflect the good, gracious Father he is.

Let’s not let our desire for a perfect picture of community distract us from God’s heart. We are called to something distinct, reflecting not the images from sitcoms or stock photos, but the God who has welcomed each of us.

[1] Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), 161.



Christ’s Call to Rest

By / Feb 10

Matthew 11:28–30 has become one of my favorite passages in Scripture. There is something in the tone of Jesus’ words that exposes my Pharisaical heart, and it might expose yours, too. It shows how easily we slip into a mindset where we live as if His favor could be earned through our human efforts. Over time, the faith we profess can become a heavy yoke that grows heavier. We start to treat our time in the Word, in prayer, and even our attendance at church as burdens rather than gifts meant to be enjoyed.

Believers were not created in Christ for this weariness, but to find rest—rest grounded in what God has given us through faith in Christ. In Him, we are justified, redeemed, and sanctified by His life, death, and resurrection—not by our efforts or fleeting human wisdom. Only Christ, and what He has accomplished on our behalf, grants us favor before God.

This rest is not the absence of a yoke, but an exchange of our heavy yoke for Christ’s light and easy yoke (v. 30). In this light yoke, we find the peace to live an abundant life in Christ—a life that rests in His sufficient work, His final work, and His everlasting work.

Rest in His Sufficient, Final, and Everlasting Work

Christ’s sacrifice at the cross is sufficient, meaning it is complete and nothing needs to be added (Heb. 10:12–14). This is good news for us. It proclaims that we do not earn God’s favor through our works, but that true rest flows from Christ’s finished work at the cross and His pierced hands for you and me.

Christ’s work is final (John 19:28–30). It does not need to be repeated for every sin. The curse of sin and death has been defeated once and for all (Heb. 9:26), and our souls can find rest in Christ’s victory, which is now ours.

Christ’s work at the cross is everlasting (Rom. 6:23); it will never change. Our redemption is permanently secured for all ages, so people from every nation, tribe, and tongue can come to Him in repentance and faith and receive the same salvation.

Christ’s sufficient, final, and everlasting work should shape how we approach our relationship with Him. Yet we are easily swayed to believe that His work and gift of salvation come with strings attached—that we must continue to earn His favor by our own efforts. This should not be so. We have been raised to an eternal hope (1 Pet. 1:3–5), given through faith in Christ (Eph. 2:8–9), and the Father delights to give us the joy of being part of His Kingdom (Luke 12:31–32).

Augustine’s words echo the rest Christ offers to us in Matthew 11:28–30: “Our hearts are restless till they find their rest in Thee.”[1] How fitting of Augustine to remind us that any fleeting moment, brief pleasure, or empty sense of achievement will never bring the rest our souls truly long for. Restlessness is a downward spiral we enter when we believe that our works can gain salvation. Yet God, who made us for Himself, was pleased to dwell in human form for our sake—for our true rest. Our sufficient, final, and everlasting rest is found in Christ and in Him alone, not in our strivings.

If you find yourself weary and heavy-laden, this is news of joy. Come to Christ. You don’t need to “fix” your life to be acceptable in His sight. Not even our greatest efforts can atone for our sins. Christ came to do that for us, even when we didn’t deserve it. His favor and grace remain wholly and securely in Him. Come to Him. Take up His yoke and learn from Him. Remember the work of Christ that leads you to His rest, where His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. A fruitful and flourishing Christian life stems from a heart that finds rest in the complete work of Christ.

Christ calls us to rest, not in our merit, but in His. Will you answer His call?

[1] Augustine, Confessions 1.1.1.



Seeds of Eternity: The Weight of Kids Ministry

By / Feb 5

A Calling You Can Blink Past

I’m not sure I’ll ever stop asking where I’m meant to go or what purpose I’m called to serve. Over the years, I’ve learned it’s best to view a calling as content-specific rather than location-specific. For me, it’s never been about the age group I teach, the city I live in, or the role I hold—it’s about serving others with Christlike compassion. Whether I’m working with children, adults, or immigrants, the core of my purpose remains the same: helping people feel welcomed, valued, and heard. This perspective has guided my choices in both life and work.

Today, I serve in kids ministry at my church. Cue the chaotic scene of energetic children—freeze frame: “Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up here.” Though I had worked with children before, I never imagined stepping into this role. When I was first approached, I paused, unsure. Yet a gentle push inside me encouraged me to step in—and I was shaken when I realized the gravity of kids ministry and the misconceptions surrounding it.

By nature, I thrive with a clear, mission-oriented direction. Without it, I feel adrift. Stepping into this role granted me a deeper understanding of kids ministry and how calling relates to it: It is not merely childcare or programming—it is the future of the Church. It’s where discipleship begins, where seeds of faith are planted and nurtured. The work may seem small or unseen, but it carries eternal significance. It’s not just cute; it’s critical.

In reassessing kids ministry, it became clear that my mission is to further God’s Kingdom. That calling isn’t confined by location or age group, but kids ministry is one of the most potent places to live it out. In the quiet corners of the church, amid glue sticks and goldfish, eternal things are being formed. Yet if we fail to grasp the weight of this work, we may blink and miss it altogether.

Misconceptions About Kids Ministry

One major misconception is that kids ministry is “practice church.” These are real, eternal souls. Every moment is an opportunity to lead someone toward Christ. We equip them to withstand struggle, lean into hardship, and dig deep into God rather than the world. These aren’t just “kid problems.” They are life problems that start young and carry into adulthood. kids ministry is beautiful and weighty, playful and powerful. It’s not just preparing kids for the church of tomorrow; it’s building the church of today.

Another misconception is that you must start with a deep passion for kids. You need a passion for God’s Kingdom. Caring about its future naturally grows love for the children who embody it. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is immediately “good with kids.” Skills develop through showing up, being present, and doing the work. Scripture is full of examples—Moses, Joseph, Peter, Paul—ordinary people called into extraordinary roles. We all have a head start: We were kids once! Skills and passions grow, and God meets us in that growth.

Our broader aim should be the Kingdom and its future. Too often we see only cuteness and miss the seriousness. kids ministry is a battleground for souls, where eternal seeds are planted.

The beauty of kids ministry is that it ministers back to us. Breaking things down to a child’s level, answering questions, and watching understanding grow are glimpses of God’s transforming power. Even the mundane carries purpose. As the old Greek quote says, “A society becomes great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they will never sit.” That’s kids ministry. We may never see the full fruit, but that’s not the point. It’s about Jesus.

Don’t let fear or discomfort hold you back. Step into His Kingdom and trust He will use it for His greater purpose. When you care for God’s Kingdom, you care for its future. And these kids are part of that future. Love for them flows naturally from love for Christ’s mission. The bigger picture has always been His Kingdom, and He invites us to help build it, one child at a time. Let’s not blink and miss it.