Teresa and I took a road trip to Greenville, Texas, this past week. We stayed with some friends whose home was almost dead center in the path of the solar eclipse – over four minutes of totality.

Before you roll your eyes and heap scorn on me (I’m impervious, so save your breath), understand that this was a bucket list event for me. I’ve seen plenty of partial eclipses, and my takeaway was “wow, that’s cool,” and I’d get on with my day. But after hearing my son attempt to explain what a total eclipse was like, I resolved that I simply had to witness this, because, as they say, pictures don’t do it justice. What I realized was that people who viewed the event as “no big deal” had obviously never experienced a total eclipse. There is a world of difference between totality and even 95%. It’s indescribable.

The day started out overcast. I was bummed. I did sort of make peace with the situation – I’d be content with whatever I could experience. I knew it would get dark even if I couldn’t see the sun.

I decided to pray for clear skies. That felt trivial. More on that in a minute.

The skies did clear. There were some clouds scudding over the sun, but it was more than clear enough.

Words can be so feeble and futile. This was one of those times.

The lighting change prior to the eclipse. Everything took on a sepia tone. Shadows cast by leaves on trees looked odd and sort of distorted. I noticed that the temperature was dropping.

When the sun was totally obscured, birds stopped chirping. There was an ethereal quiet, except for the neighbors spontaneously shouting in awe. Teresa said I hollered. I don’t remember doing that. What I do remember was seeing Bailey’s beads, that chain of light along the rim of the sun, but most awe-inspiring was the diamond ring effect. It was like the blaze of a thousand suns right on the edge of darkness. For a moment, the whole world was alight.

This was very emotional and spiritual for me. I was struck with the wonder of primal creation and thought of my God who orders the universe like clockwork and orchestrates a cosmic dance like this.

Afterwards, I got to thinking: “Was my prayer for good weather trivial? After all, we would’ve had clear skies even if I hadn’t prayed, right?”

Photo credit: Storyteller Photography: Images by Rebecca

Let’s dive deep into what might seem like the shallow end of our spiritual pool: “shallow prayers.” The term itself might evoke a bit of self-consciousness or even guilt. After all, is there such a thing as a shallow prayer, or are all our prayers valuable to God?

Let’s unpack this, shall we?

At first glance, shallow prayers might seem like those quick, on-the-go requests we shoot up to God – “Please let there be no traffic,” “I hope it doesn’t rain during my vacation,” or “Let this cup of coffee work its magic today.” They’re the kind of prayers that, in the grand scheme of things, don’t seem to carry the weight or gravity of prayers for health, guidance, or provision.

But here’s a thought – doesn’t the very act of praying, no matter the subject, signify a connection with God? It’s like texting a friend about the little things in your day, not just the life-changing events. It keeps the relationship dynamic and alive. Could it be that there’s no prayer too small, too trivial, or too “shallow” for God?

The biblical perspective is pretty clear that God invites us to cast all our cares on Him because He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). Notice it doesn’t say to cast only the big, life-altering cares; it says all our cares. That inclusivity is comforting, implying that God is interested in the details of our lives, even those that might seem insignificant.

But here’s where it gets interesting. What about when our prayers, shallow or deep, aren’t answered in the way we expect? Maybe you prayed earnestly for that promotion, and it went to someone else. Or perhaps you prayed against all odds for that rain to hold off during your outdoor event, but it poured anyway. It’s moments like these where we might wonder if our prayers are indeed valuable or if they’re just getting lost in the ether.

It’s crucial to remember that God’s responsiveness to our prayers isn’t always about granting wishes like a celestial genie. Sometimes, it’s about the relationship that’s built and strengthened through our reliance on Him. Our “unanswered” prayers, whether about life’s big battles or the small hiccups, give us a chance to trust in God’s bigger plan, to find peace in uncertainty, and to seek joy in unexpected places. They teach us resilience, patience, and sometimes, even lead us to the answers we didn’t know we were looking for.

So, should we pray about everything, even the minor things? Absolutely. Philippians 4:6 nudges us to not be anxious about anything but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present our requests to God. It’s a gentle reminder that nothing is too small or too large to bring before God. Our seemingly shallow prayers might just be the thing that keeps our line of communication with Him open and our hearts aligned with His.

And here’s a comforting thought: God cares, deeply and profoundly, about you. Whether your prayers are about the mountains or the molehills in your life, each one is precious to Him because you are precious to Him. The depth of your prayers doesn’t define the depth of His love for you. In fact, it’s in those moments when our prayers aren’t answered as we hoped that we might just find the most profound evidence of God’s love, guiding us toward what we need rather than what we want.

There’s no such thing as a shallow prayer. Every whisper, every thought, every sigh lifted to God is valuable. It’s the heart behind the prayer that matters – a heart seeking connection, guidance, and presence. So yes, pray about everything. The big, the small, and everything in between. Because in the tapestry of our lives, every thread counts, and God is in the details, weaving together something more beautiful than we could ever imagine on our own.

Keep the faith, keep praying, and remember – no prayer is too small for a God so great.

Cheers to strengthening our spiritual connection, one “shallow” prayer at a time.

I should know better when on social media. I’ll read a post from someone I know and care for, and think, “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re a believer. And if I were to take what you’re sharing at face value, I’d say you’re moving close to despair. How cynical can you get?”  

It’s like a drowning man who not only won’t reach for a lifesaver but isn’t content until they drown someone else along with them.

In a world that often seems overwhelmed by negativity and cynicism, it’s easy to wonder where we, as Christians, fit into the grand scheme of things. We’re bombarded with news that paints a less-than-hopeful picture of humanity and the future. It’s in these moments, however, that our faith is not just a belief but a beacon—a source of perpetual hope and unwavering trust in God’s sovereignty.

The idea that “you can’t be cynical and a Christian” might seem bold at first glance. After all, isn’t it human to feel disheartened by the seemingly endless cycle of bad news? Yet, this statement isn’t about denying our emotions or ignoring reality. It’s about recognizing that, as Christians, we are called to view the world differently. We are called to hope.

Hope, in the Christian sense, is not blind optimism. It’s a confident expectation based on the character and promises of God. Despite the chaos, despite the brokenness, we stand firm in the belief that God is always glorified in all things. This isn’t a passive hope; it’s active and alive, compelling us to engage with the world in a way that reflects God’s love and redemption.

Don’t let your familiarity with Romans 8:28 dilute its truthfulness. Paul reminds us, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” This verse isn’t a platitude; it’s a cornerstone of our faith. It assures us that, no matter the circumstances, God is at work. He’s weaving every thread, even those tarnished by sin and sorrow, into a tapestry that glorifies Him and fulfills His divine plan.

When we look at others or the world around us, it’s crucial to remember that there’s no person or situation beyond God’s redemption. To think otherwise is to limit the infinite power of our Creator, the one who spoke the universe into existence. How, then, can we doubt His ability to transform lives and circumstances?

Embracing this perspective shifts our focus from despair to action. It challenges us to be agents of hope and vessels of God’s love. Instead of being overwhelmed by the darkness, we’re inspired to shine our light brighter, to reach out with compassion, and to partake in God’s redemptive work in the world.

“God’s got this” might sound like a casual affirmation, but it’s a profound declaration of faith. It’s an acknowledgment of God’s omnipotence and a commitment to trust Him, even when the path ahead seems uncertain. This trust isn’t naive; it’s rooted in a deep understanding of who God is and His promises to us.

So, as we navigate through life, let’s challenge ourselves to shed any cynicism that dims our light. Let’s replace it with a hope that is as unshakeable as it is contagious. Let’s be so filled with God’s love and trust in His plan that others can’t help but be drawn to the hope that lives within us.

As you reflect on these words, I encourage you to evaluate your own heart. Are there areas of your life where cynicism has taken root? How can you actively replace that cynicism with hope? Remember, it’s a journey we’re all on together, supporting one another, as we strive to live out our faith in a world that desperately needs the hope only God can give.

Let’s not just be hearers of this message but doers. Let’s live out our hope in such a way that it provokes others to seek the source of our hope, the very heart of God. Because, in the end, hope is not just what we have; it’s what we are called to share.

I thought of a name for my autobiography, if I ever decide to write it: Well, That Didn’t Work.

My life is full of things that didn’t go the way I’d wanted or planned. Some incidents I’d drop in that file marked “It’s Just a Thing.” Another file would be marked, “What Were You Thinking?” And, unfortunately, one file would be marked “You Blew It.”

That third file would be full of unpleasant accounts.

I’m prone to be unduly hard on myself. Can I get an “amen?”

I’m learning, though, that all my past mistakes, those moments of weakness, are redeemable. Check this out.

The scene is the Garden of Gethsemane—a pivotal moment not just in biblical history, but as a metaphor for our own spiritual journeys. Picture it: the disciples, those closest to Jesus, succumbed to human weakness, dozing off when they were needed most. When they woke, imagine the weight of their regret, the sinking feeling of having missed a crucial moment to support their friend and teacher. It’s a scenario many of us can relate to on a personal level.

This story isn’t just about physical sleep; it’s about moments of spiritual slumber, times when we’ve been absent when it mattered most—missed opportunities to stand by someone, to make a difference, or to take a step of faith. And like the disciples, we often wake up to a harsh self-judgment: “How could I have let that happen?” We beat ourselves up, thinking it’s all over, that we’ve blown it for good.

But here’s the twist: despair isn’t an anomaly; it’s part of the human experience. It’s as common as the cold, and just as unwelcome. Yet, it’s in these moments of despair that Jesus steps in with a message that’s both startling and soothing. He essentially tells us, “Okay, you missed that one. But let’s not dwell on it. There’s more ahead.”

I like the concept of leaving our past failures in the “sweet embrace of Christ.” It’s about allowing ourselves to move on, not ignoring our mistakes, but not letting them anchor us in place either. Jesus’s approach is not one of dismissal but of gentle redirection: “Get up, and do the next thing.”

And what is this “next thing”? It’s moving forward with trust and faith in Him, praying and acting from a place of redemption, not regret. The best thing we could do is shift our focus from what we’ve done wrong to what we can do right, starting now.

This message is incredibly relevant for all of us. How often do we find ourselves paralyzed by past missteps? How frequently do we let the fear of failure stop us from stepping out again? Yet, here we’re reminded that our past doesn’t have to dictate our future. Our spiritual journey is not defined by how many times we’ve fallen, but by how many times we get up—and who we’re walking with.

Want some encouragement? The message is clear: there’s always a next step, a new chapter waiting to be written with God by our side.

So, let’s take this advice to heart. Let’s not let the sense of past failure defeat our next step. Instead, let’s lean into the “invincible future” with Jesus, trusting in His redemption, and always ready to do the next thing.

Until next time, keep walking in faith and light, embracing each new day and opportunity with the joy and assurance that comes from knowing He’s got us, every step of the way.

Papa Wilson, my grandfather, died when I was eight years old. This was in 1964. I don’t remember many details about his actual death, but I do remember that he was 84 when he died. I thought that was positively ancient.

Mama was part of a family of twelve kids. At some point you cross the threshold of having a family and it becomes a litter. She was close to her daddy, and she indeed grieved.

There was some debate with Daddy and her about whether or not I should go to the funeral. Maybe they thought I’d be traumatized. I was up for it. I had sort of a morbid fascination with the whole process. I had a nebulous idea about how all this worked from TV shows and movies. I knew it was all about preparing the body for burial, picking out a casket, having the funeral itself (which these days more often referred to as a “memorial service,” as if the term “funeral” is too archaic or disturbing. Maybe they’re two different things.)

I also knew that there’d be a procession – that Papa Wilson’s casket would be carried by the pallbearers across the road from the church to the cemetery itself, and there he’d be “interred” (another infrequently used word) by being dropped into a vault in the ground and subsequently sealed and covered up in dirt. I remember thinking “what IS a pall anyway?” The whole thing, from the time the body was prepared for burial until the time it was lowered in the ground, was choreographed with the panache of a Broadway musical.

The most intriguing part of the process was what was called the “viewing.” “Wake” is another term. The excitement I felt at the time was knowing that I was going to be able to see a dead person. I loved Papa Wilson too, but I had no fear about seeing his body. I found the term “viewing” to be very accurate. We all had to take a look at him. It was part of the process, and was supposed to bring some closure. I’d add, too, that in southeast Alabama, another term was prior to the funeral you had a “sitting up,” aka wake, where someone spent the night at the funeral home or the house and sat with the body, as if it were going anywhere. The custom came from the need to keep mice and other vermin from making themselves at home in the casket – they needed to be shooed off. Or to keep the cat from sitting on the body. It didn’t matter if there were mice or cats around. You were simply expected to keep the departed company.

Papa Wilson lay in state in his house, in the parlor. I remember relatives and friends milling around on the front porch, talking in subdued whispers, as though if you were too loud it might disturb Papa Wilson. When you walked in the front door of the house, you came in the living room, and through French doors from the living room you’d enter the parlor/dining room.

So here’s young Tony, standing on the front porch, flanked by Mama and Daddy. Mama said, “Would you like to say goodbye to Papa?” I didn’t know about that … I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me, but I also figured the goodbye was more for me than him. I said yes, but it was more of me wanting to see what he looked like than say any farewells.

So I was ushered into the parlor. People parted to let us come in. I saw the casket, gleaming in the subdued light, with the top opened, or at least half of it. I saw a white ruffle of pleated fabric spilling over the side. But because I wasn’t tall enough, I couldn’t really see into it. I could see Papa Wilson’s nose and not much else.

At we approached the side of the casket I was able to peek in. Papa Wilson was dressed in a fine suit. I heard Mama sniffling, and I glanced up at Daddy. His jaws were working, his teeth clenched.

“Doesn’t he look sweet,” Mama said.

“He looks like he’s asleep,” Daddy said.

My thought? “He looks like he’s dead.” I wasn’t fooled.

Like his grandson is now, Papa Wilson was bald. Typically his head shone like a polished hubcap. This time, however, it was so powdered that it looked like parchment. His face was stretched tight, almost like a mask. His mouth was what disturbed me – it was though it was made of wax. (I’ve since learned that mouths can be a real problem for undertakers – because the mouth is always in motion, to see it perfectly still is an anomaly.)

I stood still and examined him with frank curiosity. I think my folks expected me to cry, or run, or something. I did none of these. Candidly, I didn’t feel anything. My primary thought was, “That’s not Papa Wilson. That’s just the horse he rode in on.”

Since that day I’ve been to many more funerals and performed a fair share, too. It’s given me plenty of opportunities to observe grief. Here’s your takeaway – everyone grieves differently, and you are in no place to judge if someone doesn’t grieve the way you would. Grief is necessary.

To an observer of the eight-year-old Tony, they might feel that I didn’t grieve appropriately, if at all. That may be so.

When you think about it, grief is a part of closure, or should be. The overarching need is to move on. Grief, whatever its source, is a milestone, a transitional point from what was to what is. To get stuck in the what was can be a recipe for despair. Losses will happen, and there’s nothing that can be done about that. But staying bogged down in that loss, refusing to move on, is to doubt the bigness and sovereignty of God, who has no desire for us to be mired in the past, and is aware and present in our loss and perhaps even engineered it.

How do you move on?

This may be shallow, but … you just do. While your emotions may be raging and drowning you, understand that they are transient (unless there is some clinical problem, which we won’t go into here. I understand the reality of chronic depression, anxiety, anger, etc.).

There is no proper way to grieve. Every individual deals with loss in a way unique to themselves. Be wary of saying, “I know how you feel.” Uh, no. You might know how you would feel or have felt, but the other person? They aren’t you, and don’t cast them in your autobiography.

Say this familiar biblical phrase: “And it came to pass…”

What is isn’t what will always be. And while we may always have a sense of loss after a tragedy, the reality is that it doesn’t have to cripple us. It is legitimate to miss what once was. But, armed with the knowledge that you can’t go back, and by listening to your head as well as your heart, it is possible – and necessary – to move forward toward a new horizon. What happens tomorrow may be a mystery, but it is no mystery in knowing that no matter where you’re headed, God is already there.

“The Gate of the Year” is the popular name of a poem by Minnie Louise Haskins. She titled it “God Knows.” I’ll share its best-known stanza in a moment.

A quick history lesson.

According to Wikipedia, the poem was written in 1908 and privately published in 1912. King George VI quoted it in his 1939 Christmas broadcast to the British empire. It was thought that his wife, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Consort, shared it with him. Now it’s believed that Princess Elizabeth, aged 13, gave the poem to her father.

The Gate of the Year gave comfort to the Queen Mother all her days, and was a real inspiration to Brits in the Second World War. She had its words engraved on stone plaques and mounted on the gates of the King George VI Memorial Chapel at Windsor Castle.

These are some powerful words:

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

I wish I’d written this.

So why this current fascination on my part? Let me parse it.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

Here are two fundamental wishes. These are especially meaningful when you have some hard questions and answers aren’t forthcoming (hello, 2024!)

The desire for light is self-evident. You want to be able to see where you’re going.

“Tread safely into the unknown.” If light is available, then the unknown isn’t quite as scary. In these dark days, if you knew what lay ahead, wouldn’t you be comforted by knowing? (Or not; if what lay ahead is disastrous, you might not want to know.)

There have been times in my life – and, in all likelihood, yours too – when you took a leap of faith and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Your faith was misplaced. You let the clamor of the world drown out that still, small voice. Or, worse, you “followed your heart.” Ancient script teaches that the heart is deceitful above all things. Following your heart sounds noble, but it’s not a good idea.

And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

Yes yes yes.

You’ve probably said things like:

I thought God wanted me to marry him.

I thought I was supposed to take that job.

Moving to a new house felt right, somehow.

Here’s the lesson here:

• It’s not a matter of removing the darkness. It’s a matter of accepting the darkness and prevailing in it.
• God’s hand is big, protective, and firm. He doesn’t let go of you. People might. He won’t.
• If it’s safety you crave, then the most perfectly safe place in the universe is in the hand of God, and it doesn’t matter how dark it is.

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.

Here’s a subtle nuance. The picture is of someone (you? me?) moving first and then finding the hand of God. It’s knowing that He’s already there, whether you have reached Him or not. The poet draws the picture of taking God’s hand and trodding gladly into the night. No fear, no apprehension. Just the simple joy of knowing God’s got you.

It doesn’t matter the circumstances of what brought on the darkness. They might not change.  The mandate is to be glad in those circumstances. Crazy, I know. But it all is centered in God holding your hand.

And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

Sweet.

Get this picture.

• God leads, and the journey begins in darkness.
• He leads toward the hills. Hills conceal, but there is the promise of something else beyond what can be seen.
• The day breaks in the East. There is the certainty of sunrise, and, blessedly, visual confirmation that it is indeed dawn. A new day with new possibilities and new hope.

The Gate of the Year

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.^[3]

I’ll start with a confessional. Sometimes, Christmas music gets on my nerves. But before you call the grinch squad on me, I’ll explain. And I will use The Little Drummer Boy as a jumping off place.

I love Christmas carols. Love ‘em. I might listen to them year round. But some of the secular stuff can really wear thin. White Christmas? Good with that. I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day? Check – I like it.

But Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree? Santa Baby? Mariah Carey? The whole Bob Dylan Christmas album, which is like some sort of surreal fever dream? No thanks.

Then there’s The Little Drummer Boy. More carol than secular. And for some reason I’ve done a deep dive with this one recently.

Don’t look for him in scripture. You won’t find him. If you look for the little drummer boy in the context of the lyrics (aside from the pa-rum-pa-pum-pums), you can piece together enough clues to tell you that he showed up at the same time as the wise men. (And for a special treat, listen to this song as performed by Pentatonix.)

Check this out.

Our finest gifts we bring … to lay before the king … so to honor Him … when we come.

Here are the wise men. Traditionally, there were three of them, based on the three gifts.

They brought good things. Expensive, even priceless things.

And then there’s the little drummer boy.

Little baby … I am a poor boy too. I have no gift to bring that’s fit to give our King. Shall I play for you on my drum?

The wise men brought their finest gifts. The little drummer boy had nothing of material value. He just played his drum.

I played my best for Him. Then He smiled at me … me and my drum.

I wonder how the little drummer boy felt?

I hope he didn’t feel unworthy. Because what he gave Jesus was sufficient because he gave with a pure heart.

This raises a couple of questions:

• What are you afraid to give God because you don’t think it’s good enough?
• What do you do when you see other do things for Jesus? What’s your response?

File those away. We’ll come back.

Let me take you somewhere else – specifically, Mark 12:41-44.

⁴¹ Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. ⁴² But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

⁴³ Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. ⁴⁴ They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” (NIV)

Can you see any parallels to the widow and the little drummer boy?

Maybe the widow thought what she gave wasn’t fit for God, but she gave anyway. It was all she could do.

The rich people threw plenty into the treasury. Jesus and His disciples were watching this, and then the little widow hobbles up to the treasury and drops those two coins in.

If you were there, what would you think? How would you feel?

I’d feel humbled at best, and unworthy at worst.

Giving doesn’t come naturally to me. I can be a stingy, self-centered, worldly old dude. I like stuff, and I don’t part with it easily.

God help me.

Both the widow and the little drummer boy had so little to give, but they both had hearts that longed to worship with all they have.

Let’s break this down, in conclusion. Actually, I’ll just ask that you and I answer these questions:

1. What are you afraid to give because you don’t think it’s good enough? Are you so mired in your sense of unworthiness that you don’t think you have anything to offer?
2. Have you been holding back anything from God? I’m not just talking about the things. I’m talking about your heart, your will, your whole life.
3. What are some ways you can give to God?
4. Have you ever seen God multiply something you thought was very small?
5. What’s something you’ve been thinking specifically about to give Jesus for His use? Want to be encouraged? Want to be a hope-giver? That’s my thoughts.

Where is your heart today?

I play my best for you.

I give you all I have.

God bless the little drummer boy. God bless us.

Imagine you’re on a journey, a long winding path with tall trees on both sides, obscuring your view of what lies ahead. Every turn, every rise, and dip of the ground brings a tinge of uncertainty. If you had a guide leading the way, someone who knows every twist and turn of that path, wouldn’t you feel more assured?

Our journey through life is much like this winding path, filled with uncertainties at every corner. But as believers, we are blessed to have Jesus as our guide. The question then isn’t whether we have a guide, but rather how we position Him in our journey. Is He leading us, or have we relegated Him to a mere porter carrying our burdens?

Jesus Leading the Way

When Jesus leads the way, we walk with a certain assurance, even amidst the chaos and unpredictability of life. It doesn’t mean there won’t be moments of fear or doubt, but it does mean that our immediate response to uncertainty is to look ahead, to Him.

Having Jesus lead means that our vision shifts from the immediate problem to the eternal promise. Instead of asking, “Why is this happening to me?” we start asking, “What are you teaching me through this, Lord?” It’s a position of trust and proactive faith, where we allow Jesus to chart our course, trusting that He has our best interests at heart.

Jesus as Our Porter

On the other hand, when Jesus is behind us, bearing our burdens, it might seem like a noble gesture. We acknowledge Him, we recognize that He’s there, and we rely on Him to carry our troubles. But, there’s a subtle difference – we’re not letting Him lead. Instead of looking to Him for direction, we’re navigating life based on our understanding, our plans. We’re making Him reactive to our decisions rather than the other way around.

There’s an inherent danger in this. It means that when faced with uncertainty, our first response might be panic, stress, or even despair. We scramble to find solutions, often forgetting to consult with the very one carrying our burdens.

Repositioning Jesus in Our Lives

So how do we ensure Jesus is leading us rather than merely following? It starts with surrender. It’s acknowledging that while we have our plans, God’s plans for us are always better. It’s daily picking up our cross and saying, “Not my will, but Yours be done.”

Surrender doesn’t mean inaction. It means actively seeking His will in every decision, every uncertainty. It’s a proactive stance of prayer, seeking wisdom, and being attuned to the gentle nudges of the Holy Spirit.

Next, it involves reading and meditating on the Word. The Bible isn’t just a historical document; it’s a living testament, a guide for our journey. By immersing ourselves in it, we get to understand God’s character, His promises, and His directives for us.

Lastly, it involves community. Surrounding ourselves with fellow believers who can offer godly counsel, pray with and for us, and hold us accountable in our walk with Christ.

Wrapping Up

Uncertainty is a given in our human experience, but our reaction to it speaks volumes about our relationship with Jesus. Letting Him lead doesn’t guarantee a life free from troubles, but it promises a life where every challenge is faced with divine assurance and hope.

So, as we journey through life, let’s evaluate where Jesus is positioned. Is He leading, or is He merely following? And if we find that He’s been behind us for a while, let’s reposition Him where He rightfully belongs – right ahead, leading the way.

Talk later!

One in four adults and one in five youth in the United States have a diagnosable mental illness. At Family Matters, we know this means nearly every family we come in contact with is impacted by mental illness. As Christians, we know we can turn to our Heavenly Father and seek His guidance and wisdom in all areas of our life. The Bible tells us in 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”

Belief in an omnipotent God means we believe He can heal us of our brokenness spiritually, mentally and physically. Out of that belief, we turn to our God with prayer and faith that He can heal. We believe this for ourselves, and we encourage others to believe the same.

God can, and sometimes does, heal us when we cry out to Him, but often He doesn’t.

Often, God says to us when we continually ask him to take away our sadness, anxiety, scattered thoughts, anger and pain, “My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in your weakness” —2 Corinthians 12:9.

The only brokenness God promises to heal is our spiritual brokenness.

Mentally and physically, we are “jars of clay” that contain our spiritual treasure (2 Corinthians 4:7-18) and we often won’t be free from our afflictions until we are glorified with Christ someday in Heaven.

I see a trend in the Church that troubles me. The response of much of the Church to mental illness is to over-spiritualize both the problems and the solutions.

I have experienced it personally, and a recent study by LifeWay research has found nearly half of evangelical, fundamentalist, or born-again Christians (48 percent) believe prayer and Bible study alone can overcome serious mental illness like schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and depression.

We would never begrudge someone with cancer from seeking the best, most innovative treatment available to them. We would never simply tell them to just pray and study their Bible more! We would pray fervently for God’s healing, comfort and wisdom, but we’d also fully expect that they will see a doctor, seek treatment and take medication if it’s warranted.

We don’t do the same with mental health.

Often, when I’ve heard someone share that they are grappling with mental illness, their concern is met with answers like, “you should cast all your cares on the Lord (1 Pet. 5:7); rejoice in the Lord always (Phil 4:4); pray without ceasing (1 Thess 5:17) and you are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).”

All of these are biblical truths—but they should not be hurled as platitudes; platitudes to dismiss their pain, call their faith into question and shut down further discussion of a topic we may find challenging and hard to comprehend.

The mentally ill continue to receive dismissive, judgmental and marginalizing responses from much of the Church because mental health is still stigmatized. Yes, there is a spiritual component to mental illness (and physical illness), but mostly because we are spirit. To immediately draw the conclusion that someone struggling with clinical depression, anxiety disorder, mania or PTSD is under spiritual attack only makes sense if we also immediately draw the same conclusion of our friend who has been diagnosed with breast cancer, hypothyroidism or kidney stones. Yes, demon possession and spiritual oppression happens, but they are not the main cause of true, persistent mental illness. Mental illness happens at the intersection of our mind, spirit, personality, character, faith, decisions and electrical command center (our brain) but it is illness just the same.

It is vital we don’t do anything which could be construed as discouraging treatment for mental illness, because without treatment (and sometimes with it) mental illness can be terminal. Our Great Physician often uses the miracle of medicine in His healing.  Sure, medications come with potential risks and side effects. Like any other health decision we weigh the risk of treating against the risk of not treating. And I can tell you this: the risk of untreated, or undertreated mental illness is staggeringly high. The point is, it’s not our place to critique how a fellow believer chooses to treat their illness either physical or mental. We can leave those decisions between them, their families, their doctors and our Wounded Healer.

What’s the danger in over-spiritualizing mental health?

The danger is we continue to stigmatize those who are equally loved by our Great God. The danger is rather than being life-giving in our love, compassion and understanding, we who are redeemed are a stumbling block to those precious souls who cry out to the Great Physician. The danger is we miss our calling to love and edify each other, and cause a bitter root to grow between us and the world.

“See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many”—Hebrews 12:15.

So love, listen, pray, encourage, support, bake casseroles, drive to appointments and pick-up prescriptions. Advocate for those whose illness leaves them voiceless. Let our witness to the world be how broken people love each other.

NOTE: This article from Family Matters was written by Karis Murray, who writes candidly about mental illness and urges readers not to miss their callings to love and advocate for those whose illnesses leave them voiceless. I want to give all credit to Karis and Family Matters.

Facing Trials with Authenticity: When God Chooses Real Over Superficial

Trials and tribulations are an inevitable part of life. You know, there are days when we wish we had a magic wand to wave away our problems, or a switch we could flip to fast-forward through the hard times. But if there’s one thing we can take solace in, it’s the knowledge that our struggles don’t catch God off guard. He sees them, understands them, and has a purpose behind each one.

When I say there are no magical words to take away your pain or speed up the trial you’re enduring, I mean it. But this isn’t a call for despair. Instead, it’s an invitation to embrace the reality that the struggle is a part of your story. Consider the most transformative stories in the Bible: Moses wandering in the desert, David facing Goliath, Paul enduring shipwrecks and imprisonments. Their trials weren’t quick fixes. They were journeys that molded, shaped, and refined them into the people God intended them to be.

One of the most reassuring truths is that God isn’t interested in the superficial. He doesn’t prioritize the Instagram-perfect moments, the airbrushed versions of our lives, or the temporary highs we get from feel-good quotes. Instead, God is all about authenticity. The term I like to use is, “God only does REAL.” Now, what does that mean?

In a world where so much feels curated and artificial, where we’re often sold quick fixes and shallow comfort, God’s approach is refreshingly genuine. He doesn’t promise us a life without challenges, but He does assure us of His unwavering presence through them. This isn’t about the fleeting motivation that gives a momentary lift. This is about lasting transformation – a deep, soulful change that not only affects us but also influences those around us.

By going through genuine struggles, we gain authentic wisdom and strength. This isn’t the kind of wisdom you acquire from reading a self-help book or attending a weekend seminar. This is wisdom born from experience, from wrestling with challenges, from sometimes stumbling and getting back up with God’s help. The strength we gain isn’t just physical or emotional; it’s a spiritual fortitude that anchors us even in the fiercest storms.

And there’s a ripple effect to all of this. When others see you – a real person, genuinely transformed by real experiences with a real God – they are inspired. Not by the artificial, but by the genuine growth and resilience they see in you. It becomes a testimony of God’s grace, of His ability to turn trials into triumphs, and of the beauty that can arise from ashes.

In closing, if you’re in the midst of a challenging season, I encourage you to lean into the authenticity of it all. Recognize that God is in the business of real transformations, not superficial ones. Let your struggle shape you, refine you, and prepare you for the next chapter of your story. And always remember: even when the journey is tough, with God by your side, the destination is worth it.

Talk later!

The Boomerang of Kindness

Encouragement is like a heavenly boomerang. You toss it out there, and it comes swinging back, often right when you need it the most. But what about those times when you’re standing there, arm outstretched, and nothing comes back? You’re going through a rough patch, and yet you hear the words of the Bible reminding you: “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up…” (1 Thessalonians 5:11).

The ‘Jesus Factor’

Let’s consider Jesus for a moment. He’s hanging on the cross—a situation where you wouldn’t expect much encouragement to be handed out—and yet, He comforts the thief beside Him, promising him paradise. If Jesus can find it within Himself to encourage others even in His final moments, surely we can find ways to encourage from behind our screens or over a cup of coffee.

Recharge to Encourage

Picture yourself as a smartphone for a moment. Even phones need to recharge so they can send out all those uplifting texts and calls. So take some time to refuel through prayer, Scripture, and community. This isn’t about giving from a place of emptiness but recharging through divine connection and then sharing what overflows.

Been There, Felt That

When you’re in a difficult spot, you gain a unique perspective. Your words of encouragement carry weight because you’ve walked a similar path. Paul captured this well when he talked about the “God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble…” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

The Encouragement Domino Effect

Imagine you’re having a tough day but decide to text a friend with a Bible verse that has lifted your spirits in the past. Your friend, feeling encouraged, decides to call their mom to share some love. Mom, now feeling cherished, compliments a coworker. The coworker, feeling affirmed, goes home and gives his kids an extra hug. Encouragement is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

Sowing and Reaping, The Eternal Loop

We can’t forget the age-old biblical principle of sowing and reaping. While it’s not a transaction—God isn’t a divine vending machine—it’s a principle that stands the test of time. Sow encouragement, and you will reap it eventually. Maybe not immediately or in the form you expect, but God is faithful.

We’re All in This Together

Finally, let’s remember that encouragement isn’t a solo endeavor. It’s a collective mission. You lift someone up today; someone else might do the same for you tomorrow. And sometimes the most significant encouragement comes directly from God, providing you that much-needed boost.

So, ready to throw that encouragement boomerang again? It might just return to you sooner than you think, and perhaps right when you need it the most.

Talk later!

I was sitting at my desk the other day, sipping some sweet tea (really), and listening to a recording of Earl Nightingale. If you aren’t familiar with Mr. Nightingale, his Wikipedia bio states that he was an American radio speaker and author, dealing mostly with the subjects of human character development, motivation, and meaningful existence.  I’ve found him everlastingly listenable. Among the gazillion or so books he wrote, his best known was The Strangest Secret. In it, he amplifies a single thought that captivates me: “You become what you think about.” Now, don’t go thinking I’ve turned all philosophical on you; I’m just trying to chew on something that’s a bit more profound than my usual thought patterns. 

Ever find yourself stuck in a loop of negative thoughts? Oh boy, I have. You start thinking you’re not good enough, not smart enough, or whatever “enough” you want to add to the list, and soon enough, you begin to feel that way. It’s like you’ve become a magnet attracting all the things you DON’T want.

There is some scripture that resonates with this idea, and Mr. Nightingale references this several times. Proverbs 23:7 says, “For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.” Simple, right? What’s in our minds can shape who we are.

Imagine your thoughts are seeds. You plant them, water them, and eventually, they’ll grow into something. Now, if you plant tomatoes, don’t expect to harvest watermelons. Same goes for our thoughts. Plant positive seeds, and you’ll see a garden full of hope, joy, and love. Plant negative seeds, and, well, you’ll get the prickly weeds.

But it’s not just about thinking happy thoughts and hoping for the best. It’s about aligning those thoughts with actions. James 2:17 tells us, “Faith without works is dead.” It’s like wanting a bountiful harvest without getting your hands dirty. You’ve got to roll up your sleeves and work that garden.

So, let’s say you want to be more loving, more generous, or more patient. Start by thinking it, believing it, and then doing it. Be intentional about your thoughts, and let them guide your steps. Trust in the Lord, lean on His wisdom, and watch how your life blossoms.

I suppose this idea of “you become what you think about” is more than a nifty slogan on a bumper sticker. It’s a truth we can apply to our everyday lives, one that’s rooted in the Word and can help us grow into the person we’re meant to be.

So we’ve chewed on the idea that our thoughts shape us, and I bet some of you are thinking, “Well, that sounds great, but how do I actually do that?” Let’s think about some action points – some down-to-earth ways to turn your thinking around and grow a garden of positivity:

• Plant the Right Seeds: If you want to think positively, you’ve got to start by planting the right thoughts. Dive into scripture, find verses that resonate with you, and keep them close. Write them down, stick them on your fridge, whatever it takes. These are your positive seeds.
• Water with Prayer: Ever found yourself stuck in a storm of negative thoughts? It’s like a garden overrun with weeds. Pray about it! Talk to God, share what’s on your mind, and ask for guidance. Prayer’s like water for the soul, nourishing those positive thoughts.
• Tend Your Garden with Friends: Surround yourself with folks who’ll encourage you and help you grow. You wouldn’t leave your garden all alone, would you? Fellowship with friends and family who uplift you is like having a gardening buddy.
• Use the Right Tools: Just like in gardening, you need the right tools. Listen to uplifting music, read inspiring books, attend church gatherings, and be part of a community that helps you think positively.
• Prune the Weeds: Sometimes, negative thoughts creep in like stubborn weeds. Recognize them and pluck them out. Replace them with the promises of God. It’s a process, but it’s worth it.
• Harvest with Gratitude: When you see positive changes in your life, celebrate them! Thank the Lord for His guidance, and don’t forget to be grateful for the little things too. A thankful heart is a joyful heart.

This isn’t about pretending that life’s all sunshine and roses. It’s about choosing to focus on the good, leaning on our faith, and letting God guide our thoughts. And hey, if you stumble and find a weed or two, don’t fret. Just get back to tending that garden, knowing that the Master Gardener’s got your back.

Happy gardening, and may your thoughts be as bountiful and beautiful as a springtime bloom!

Hello lovely humans! Want to know a secret? Every day can potentially be the best day of your life. And if you’re reading this, you’re probably a delightful Christian or at the very least, God-curious. So let’s get our holy receptiveness on and break down how to have a truly divine day.

1. Begin with a Gratitude Stretch

We’ve all heard about morning stretches, but have you tried a gratitude stretch? Before even getting out of bed, stretch those limbs to the heavens above (or ceiling fan, whichever is closer) and shout out five things you’re grateful for. No one will mind. Maybe it’s coffee, the sunlight through your window, or the socks you can’t find. Being grateful for lost socks might sound silly, but at least they aren’t lost sheep.

2. Breakfast – the Heavenly Way

Remember the loaves and the fishes? Great story, isn’t it? Well, unless you’ve got a divine touch, don’t expect to multiply your morning toast. But hey, why not fish for some compliments from yourself while munching your cereal? Tell yourself, “You’re looking especially Godly today,” or “Is that the Holy Spirit or are you just glowing from last night’s face mask?”

3. Dress like King Solomon (on a budget)

King Solomon was known for his wealth and wisdom. While we can’t all rock golden robes, we can definitely rock confidence. Wrap yourself in the armor of God and accessorize with a smile. Put on that shirt or dress you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Because guess what? The best day of your life deserves special occasion wear.

4. Holy Playlist

Make a joyful noise! Create a playlist of your favorite Christian jams. From contemporary artists to the classic hymns, dance like David did before the Ark. And don’t worry about anyone judging you. In this divine day scenario, everyone’s on the dance floor with you.

5. WWJD: What Would Jesus Drive?

The age-old question, with a modern twist! While Jesus might have preferred sandals over a sedan, it’s all about the journey, not the vehicle. Whether you walk, drive, or ride a donkey, make sure to spread love and kindness on your way. And if you’re in traffic, remember to bless those who cut you off. It’s what Jesus would do… probably.

6. Lunch with Lazarus

We don’t all have a friend who’s been brought back from the dead, but we all have those friends we haven’t caught up with in a while. Invite them for lunch! And if they ask why, just say, “Because every meal with you feels like a resurrection of good times.”

7. Do a Random Act of Kindness (RAOK)

It could be as simple as complimenting someone’s sandals or helping a neighbor carry groceries. After all, the Bible says, “It’s more blessed to give than to receive.” But if you’re giving away chocolates, maybe keep one for yourself. You’re doing a lot of heavenly work today!

8. Have a Sermon on the Mound (of Pillows)

Got any grievances or worries? Pile up some pillows, sit atop your mound and let it all out. Talk to God. Then, when you’re done, have a pillow fight with your problems. Spoiler alert: You win.

9. Dine Like the Last Supper

Okay, maybe not exactly like the Last Supper – there’s no betrayals at this one – but take a moment to savor every bite, cherish the company you’re with, and remember the love and sacrifices made for you.

10. End the Day Reflecting with Revelation

Close the day with some soulful reflection. Dive into Revelation and remember: you’re loved, chosen, and destined for greatness. Your day might have been filled with humor, but God’s love for you is no joke.

There you have it, folks. Ten hopefully holy ways to make your day feel truly heavenly. Remember, every day can be the best day of your life if you sprinkle a little faith, love, and laughter into it. Now go forth and be blessedly joyful! 🌟

Talk soon!