Texas seasons can be brutal for plants and trees. Last summer the heat and lack of rain impacted a new tree Joni and I had planted that spring. A deep winter freeze added to the struggle. As spring began we were not sure if our tree had survived. Day after day the limbs were barren. Then one glorious day tiny buds began to appear on the branches. These green buds sprouted in defiance of summer and winters brutal assault. I stopped and meditated on the miracle of life emerging out of barrenness. I thought of the words of philosopher Bernard Williams. “The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring.” I love that. Is there anything more hopeful than watching the beauty of budding leaves and blooming flowers turning the melancholy of winter into a wondrous palette of invigorating colors? Every spring is a reminder that God will bring beauty from darkness and life from death.
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There is much written about Good Friday. The sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross is incomprehensible to my puny human intellect. There is much written about Easter Sunday. Christians around the world rejoice and proclaim that “He is risen!”. But there is not nearly as much written about one of the saddest and most confusing days in history. The Saturday between the Friday horror of Jesus on the Cross and the Sunday mystery of the resurrection. Some churches do observe Holy Saturday but it was never a tradition in my faith upbringing. I have been thinking about what that day must have been like for those who dropped everything to follow Jesus. How crushing those events had to be. I imagine the fear they felt that they would also be killed. And for what? On Saturday they feared they had given their careers and their very souls for a false hope. I think in particular of Peter. I identify
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In my mind there is no more special day in sports than Opening Day in baseball. It is an annual rite of Spring to post this article on the magic of Opening Day. The smell of freshly cut emerald green grass delights the senses. The base lines painstakingly and perfectly defined by a grounds crew that is committed to perfection on this day. Red, white, and blue bunting give the ball park a festive World Series look. The players bounce around like little boys. They seem a little extra grateful that they are paid to play a kid’s game. The hot dogs taste like gourmet food. Humphrey Bogard wisely said that “a hot dog at the ballpark is better than a steak at the Ritz”. Souvenirs a young fan begs for become treasures to be kept until adulthood. And then it becomes a challenge to explain to your wife why a twenty-five-year old bobble head needs to be in the
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When I became elder chairman at Waterbrook Bible Fellowship I had to learn Roberts Rules of Order. Not exactly my fastball but having that protocol in place helped the meetings proceed in an orderly fashion. Recently I have been pondering publishing the “Grace Rules of Order”. Seems a little odd because grace doesn’t depend on legalistically following rules and law but please hear me out. I made a conscious decision a few years ago to focus on communicating the message of grace and identity in Christ. With that I decided to avoid the polarizing path of politics. Some have told me that is cowardly but I can honestly say there is no message more important to me than the liberating freedom of grace. I want to share the joy of living out of what Jesus has already accomplished and what God says is true about me. I feel called to be a messenger of hope and grace. Plus I feel
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This week we finished one of my least favorite tasks of the year. Taking down the Christmas decorations always fills me with melancholy. I love Christmas and the message of hope and joy it brings. That God entered human form and gave us hope in a Savior who understands our struggle. We packed up a treasured Nativity creche that has been a part of our family tradition for decades. That miracle in a Bethlehem stable is where I place my joy as I head into a very unstable New Year. I find my joy in the Messiah, the Lord – who was born in the city of David. It is so easy to remember the reason for hope during Christmas. It also easy to forget that when things turn dark. We also packed away a decoration that spells out JOY. Now that we are past this wonderful season it would be easy to pack away joy in the attic and concentrate on cultural concerns.
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I have written about this trend but I think it is worth revisiting. After a tragedy or sad event it is a common social media reaction to attack people of faith for offering “thoughts and prayers”. These posters assume that anyone expressing those sentiments don’t really care about solutions to whatever problem is being addressed. We seem to have lost the ability to recognize two things can be true at once. I may get mocked and/or canceled by some for the following statement. I honestly believe I can desire cultural change while praying for ultimate hope available through Christ. I don’t force that on others. I try to live it although I know I do that imperfectly. That is the power of grace. I don’t have to be perfect for God to use me to love others. So there is the challenge for Christians in this season. How can we love those who assign terrible motives to what may be
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Being in community with others means you share their joys and their sorrows. Sometimes the sorrows come in tsunami waves and all you can do is care, pray, and be present. Good and decent people deal with financial, emotional, and physical suffering all around us and it is easy to lose heart. The news seems to be only tragedy and heartbreaking sadness. What can be redeemed of all of this suffering? A song called “The Hurt and the Healer” by MercyMe resonated when I first heard it but now that same song is a go to when facing trials. The lyrics ask the question we all struggle with. Why?The question that is never far awayThe healing doesn’t come from the explainedJesus please don’t let this go in vain I can’t explain why things happen. Sometimes it is sin. Sometimes it is simply life. I have learned in my years of following Jesus that He does not let suffering go in vain. I have seen
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