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.

 



Jesus Loves the Self-Righteous Sinner

By / Feb 3

For years, I believed Jesus reserved His loving kindness for the obviously broken: the prodigals, the tax collectors, the sinners who knew they were lost. But then I read Mark 10.

In Mark 10, the rich young ruler comes to Jesus sincerely, respectfully, and with remarkable confidence in his own obedience. “All these [laws] I have kept from my youth,” he says. It’s a striking moment of self-righteousness.

And right after the man lays out what he believes is his impeccable spiritual résumé, Mark makes a comment that reshaped my entire view of grace: “And Jesus, looking at him, loved him” (Mark 10:21).

Jesus loved him.

I didn’t have a category for Jesus’ heart beating tenderly for a man who believed he could keep the law. But there it was, right in the text. Jesus loved him—the self-righteous and spiritually self-deceived.

Most of us are comfortable with a Jesus who loves the prodigal, but less comfortable with one who loves the self-righteous. Yet if we let Scripture shape our understanding of Christ’s love, we see that Jesus is not only kind to the hurting but also to the proud. Consider Luke 15. In one of Jesus’ most famous stories, a father runs to embrace his rebellious son after he returns broken and ruined by sin. But that’s not where the story ends. The older brother—the hard-working, well-behaved son—refuses to join in the celebration of his lost brother now found, resentful and convinced of his own moral superiority.

How does the father respond? He doesn’t scold or belittle. He entreats: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (v. 31).

It’s a moving scene that communicates a gospel truth: our Heavenly Father does not love one kind of sinner more than another. He loves both sons, pursuing them equally. One needs to be brought home from a faraway country, the other from his own self-righteousness. Both are lost, but both are loved.

When you put Mark 10 and Luke 15 together, you begin to see that Jesus is not repelled by the self-righteous. The rich young ruler walks away sorrowful, but not because Jesus withheld His love. The older brother remains outside the feast, but not for lack of invitation. And this brings a needed word for the church today.

Some of us feel remarkably free to judge the self-righteous. We spot their faults easily but fail to recognize the same impulses in ourselves. We talk about “older brothers” with casual disdain, as if their sin places them beyond grace. But Jesus doesn’t treat them that way. He doesn’t despise self-righteous sinners; He seeks them. He looks at them—and loves them.

If that describes you—if your confidence has been in your own obedience, your own righteousness, your own moral effort—hear this clearly: You are in sin, but Jesus loves you. He is gently and lovingly inviting you to join the great celebration of grace. Will you join the party, or stand outside in a huff? Will you receive grace, or walk away sad?

Jesus does not love the rebel more than the rule-keeper. He loves them both—and He invites all to come home and join the feast.



Doctoral Studies and the First Commandment

By / Feb 2

Editor’s note: Midwestern Seminary is highlighting doctoral studies this February, and this article offers an encouraging look at the rigor, heart, and faithfulness such work requires.

Doctoral studies is a journey, one which only a small percentage of the world completes. In America alone, census data shows that only 2% of the country holds a doctorate degree.[1] By the numbers, it is hard to complete a doctorate. Most people do not have the time, smarts, or resources to get it done. Having said that, I regularly speak with Midwestern Seminary doctoral students at the beginning of their journey, and I encourage them to squeeze themselves into that 2% of the population. Here’s how I encourage them from Matthew 22.

Love the Lord Your God with All Your Mind.

The Midwestern Seminary doctoral program is explicitly for the Church. We want all our graduates to angle their studies and formation for the benefit of Bob and Sue in the fifth row on Sunday morning. Naturally, this vision for doctoral studies attracts leaders who are already serving in ministerial roles. But that comes with a challenge. If you are not careful, you will arrive at your first seminar with a paper in hand that sounds more like a sermon than an essay. Doctoral work requires a mental gear shift. Students must learn to marshal arguments rather than make assertions, use reason over rhetoric, and learn to cite 16th century sources, not merely 21st century sages. This kind of shift requires time, effort, and renewed focus.

Doctoral work requires love for God with one’s mind. It will require deeper thinking, broader thinking, and more creative thinking than previously imagined. You must explore, be challenged, and wrestle with the truth. You might leave with a broken hip, but you will be blessed. Your new scholarly eye for truth and detail will enrich your church later, but it requires mental wrestling now.

Love the Lord Your God with All Your Heart.

Imposter syndrome is a real thing. Every new doctoral student feels it, every new graduate feels it, and even old scholars feel it. The truth is, we are all imposters at some level. It does no good to claim, “I’m not an imposter, now let me go prove it.” No, the pursuit of scholarship—by necessity—is a venture into thoughts unknown that we might acquire more of the truth.

Settle it in your heart to make scholarship about the pursuit of truth, not proving yourself. When pursued in a spirit of self-justification, your heart is in the wrong place. This warped spirit stunts love of God and promotes love of self. Even the language of “defending your thesis” can set you up for failure. Your chief aim when writing and presenting papers is to grow. If you present a good paper—praise God, it grew you! If you present a paper that gets torn to shreds—praise God, it grew you! Win-win.

Learn to love God first with your heart. In so doing, you will be well-positioned to receive critiques of your work. You will welcome it, for that critique is helping you contend for the truth once for all delivered to the saints.

Love the Lord Your God with All Your Soul.

Simply put, you will not finish a doctoral degree unless you put your soul in it. Your time, your sweat, your tears, your sleep—they will all be thrown into the refining fire. You will question your abilities. You will sacrifice your comforts. You will defer other noble pursuits. Because of such losses, you will want to quit multiple times over. Settle it in your soul: I will not quit.

This commitment requires a team of people around you—your spouse first and foremost. Your spouse must embrace the struggle with you. Your co-workers must know the sacrifices you are making. Your church must stand ready to pray for you. Your kids must know that your work is worth it. When you are questioning your decisions, these co-laborers need to preach to you, “Over my dead body, you will not quit.”

The truth is: you do not need a top 2% IQ score to earn a doctorate. You just have to be in the top 2% of perseverance. I compare it to Major League Baseball. Though hitting a major league pitch is considered the hardest skill in sports (much like the challenge of marshaling a clear, cogent, and convincing argument), it is not even the hardest part of MLB baseball. The hardest part is managing your own failure and enduring anyway. MLB hitters fail at the plate three-quarters of the time for a 162-game season spread out over six months. That is grueling. Like an MLB hitter, doctoral students need unwavering resolve. Will you keep going back for more? Can you keep your head in it? Can your body, your mind, and your very soul endure the slow erosion of pride?

The answer is “yes” if you love the Lord your God first with all your soul. He is the reward and the reason for your work. Put your soul into your studies as an act of suffering sacrifice for his kingdom. If you can love the Lord your God above all else, you will earn a great reward far greater than three more initials behind your name.

[1] https://www.census.gov/data/tables/2022/demo/educational-attainment/cps-detailed-tables.html



Passing on a Heart for God’s Global Glory

By / Jan 29

Over twenty years ago, I read Let the Nations Be Glad, and something awakened in me. The beauty of God’s glory going forth among the nations captured my heart. I was gripped by the wonder of the gospel advancing to every tribe and tongue.

Over time, that passion faded quietly into the background—buried beneath the good work of life: serving in the church, raising six children, doing the next faithful thing.

Recently, I reread that missions classic, and it stirred something I hadn’t realized had faded: a joyful, wide-eyed awe at God’s redemptive plan unfolding across the globe. It reawakened a part of me that had once burned brightly but had grown quiet.

As I reflected on how far I’d drifted, I began praying—praying that God would reignite my passion and shape my children’s desires too. I want them to be thrilled that God is saving souls all over the world—and even be eager to join His global mission, however He leads.

With this renewed excitement, here are four simple ways we’re seeking to pass on a heart for God’s global glory.

Four Ways to Pass on a Heart for Missions

1. Wow Your Kids with the Vision

Our God is worthy of worship from every tribe, tongue, and nation. Missions begins not with strategies, but with wonder: “All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, O Lord, and shall glorify your name” (Ps. 86:9).

Help your kids see the big picture. Trace the storyline. Let them feel the weight and wonder of what God is doing—and where history is headed. Explore missions together in practical ways: learn about churches around the world, find out where unreached people groups live, talk about places where Christianity is illegal, and read stories of faithful missionaries and martyrs. Leave inspiring resources around your home for them to encounter.

2. Make Missions Personal

Missions becomes most real when it has a name and a face. Get to know the missionaries your church supports. Read their updates, watch their videos, and share their stories over dinner.

When your kids see that missions matters to you, it begins to matter to them. Help them understand that missions isn’t only for a select few—every Christian is called to join what God is doing.

3. Pray with a Global Focus

Make space in your family’s prayer life for the world. Pray for missionaries by name. Intercede for unreached people groups. Remember the persecuted church.

You might set aside one night a week for focused prayer or weave these requests into your regular rhythms. A prayer guide or missionary update sheet can give children something tangible to use in their own time with the Lord.

And don’t forget to pray for your own family. Let your kids hear you asking God to make your home more captivated by Christ than by the world, and to help you be ready to serve anywhere for the sake of the gospel.

4. Give Joyfully and Generously

We spend money on what we value. If missions matters, and you want your kids to see that it matters, show it through the way you give.

Bring your kids into the process. Talk about who you support and why. Let them hear you say no to certain purchases because you chose to give instead.

Share your joy in seeing God’s Kingdom advance—even when it requires sacrifice.

A Family That Longs for His Glory

Few things matter more than helping ourselves—and our children—rise above the noise of daily life to see God’s eternal work unfolding across the world. And few things are more exciting.

Praise God that it’s never too late to be more wrapped up in His global cause. But let’s do more than admire the vision; let’s be shaped by it. May our hearts, homes, and habits center on the greatness of God and His global glory.

Let’s pass on not just awareness, but awe. Not just information, but worship. Let’s raise kids who rejoice that the good news is reaching the nations and who long to be part of this great work.