A Choice

Last week, my family and I said goodbye to my cousin Haven. At 19 years old, he was too young for many of the things that had been thrown his way, and he was far too young to lose his life. He will be missed dearly by his many friends, by his family, and by me.

As I’ve absorbed the shock of his passing, I’ve found myself trying to make sense of it all. To figure out some way of explaining what happened. I think that’s natural. After all, we take comfort in the notion that there’s some sort of logic behind the things that happen to us.

Some say every event that takes place, whether good or bad, is part of a greater plan. That even tragedies make up pieces of God’s purpose. I appreciate the motivation behind this idea, to find meaning in the terrible things that happen to us. But I have to disagree. There are many things that happen in this life contrary to the will of God, which is why God hurts with us when disaster strikes.

I believe that God’s plan for Haven was for him to live an abundant life. That his death is as much a loss for the universe as it is for me. That it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

There is no logic in a kind, beloved 19-year-old with endless potential having his life suddenly cut short. There is no greater plan behind a family in mourning. Despite our best efforts to find one, there is no cosmic reason that our hearts are broken.

The disasters that we face in this life are a result of the broken world that we live in. A world where bad things happen to good people. Where we hurt each other and ourselves. Where we can’t escape the effects of the darkness we’ve created by choosing to live selfishly.

Why do disasters happen? Because we’ve created a world where they are possible.

When I think about this deep brokenness we face, it can sometimes seem like enough to overwhelm me. I feel my own heartache, and I imagine all the other people experiencing loss in their own way. It can feel like too much to bear.

But then I have to remind myself that that’s not the whole story. As dark as this world may seem, there is good in it, too—though it may be hard to see at times. Brokenness doesn’t have to have the final say.

There is beauty in this life. There is grace. There is love. There is so much good, if only we’ll look for it and choose to create it ourselves.

Haven did that. He generated a lot of good in his short life. Attending his memorial, I was surrounded by the many people he’d touched through his kindness, his wit, and his charm. I was reminded of the times that we had together growing up, all the fun and the joy. I saw his love of life and those around him through the memories shared.

Those things are good, and they don’t go away, even in the midst of unimaginable loss. The darkness won’t overcome the light if we don’t let it.

When we’re forced to face the brokenness of this world, we are given a choice: Do we let ourselves become broken by it, too, or do we work to heal it? We can let the tragedies overwhelm us. Or we can make the world a better place for everyone through the way we live.

That’s what I’m inspired to do. My cousin brought light into this world; I will honor him by choosing to do the same.

The truth is that we can’t stop tragedy from coming our way. It’s an unfortunate side effect of the world that we live in. But what we can do is take what we’re given and use it to do as much good as we’re able: to help others, to create beauty, to share love. It’s the closest thing we have to making sense of it all.

And for me, it’s enough.

A New Beginning

A thrill of hope 
The weary world rejoices 
For yonder breaks 
a new and glorious morn' 

I’ve always been a big fan of the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. Coming off the joy of the holiday, it’s a great time to rest up and prepare for the new year ahead. It also feels like an extended celebration of the hope that Christmas brings.

Christ’s appearing on earth was a new beginning for all of humanity. It split history itself in two. Through his incarnation, Jesus shows us that God is with us, that God cares about us, and that we can find hope and peace in the very presence of God.

That’s what we celebrated last week. And later this week, we’ll celebrate a different kind of beginning: the start of a new calendar year. It’s a reflective and hopeful season every time it comes around, but after the year we’ve all had, I think a new start is something we’re all especially looking forward to.

Change is on the horizon. A new beginning is coming, and whatever that looks like for you, I hope you’ll find hope in knowing that things can and will get better. I know I am.

See you in the new year, friends.

Jesus in the Storm

Like everyone, I’m juggling a lot of different emotions right now. The problems we’re facing in our country—only made more difficult by the instability, division, and feelings of helplessness that they’ve highlighted—have left me quite discomforted. It’s not an easy time to navigate.

But in the midst of it all, one thing I won’t allow myself to do is lose hope. As a person of faith, I know that there is no situation so dire that it can overcome my trust in God. Even now, I cling to this hope that I’ve been blessed with.

In my personal devotion time lately, I’ve been reading through the book of John, which has always been my favorite gospel. I was really encouraged by this passage, so I thought I’d share it with you. It’s a story most of us have probably heard before: Jesus walking on the water. But I think it’s worth revisiting today.

Here’s John 16:16-21 from the Christian Standard Bible:

When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. Darkness had already set in, but Jesus had not yet come to them. A high wind arose, and the sea began to churn. After they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea. He was coming near the boat, and they were afraid. But he said to them, “It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Then they were willing to take him on board, and at once the boat was at the shore where they were heading. 

The disciples were out on the sea without their teacher when a terrible storm hit. These men were alone in the middle of the sea fighting for their very lives. Can you imagine the fear they must have felt? Maybe our current circumstances have rendered that fear a little more accessible to you now.

But then here comes Jesus walking on the water. That must have been a strange sight to behold. To be honest, I’m not sure I can really picture someone walking on water, but the gospel tells us that Jesus was somehow doing it. And it just freaked the disciples out even more.

Their fear was put to rest, though, the moment that he spoke. I’m not a big fan of the way verse 20 is translated into English. It might be the best way to render it grammatically, but this translation misses the entire theological point of Jesus’s statement here.

The Greek version of Jesus’s statement is “ἐγώ εἰμι,” which can be translated, “It is I,” but more literally means, “I am.” That phrase, “I am,” is so much more than just a statement of presence. It’s Jesus proclaiming his identity as God to the disciples.

In Exodus 3, Moses is conversing with God before going to Egypt to lead the Israelites to freedom and asks for his name. God responds, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: I AM has sent me to you” (vv. 14). The name of God in the Bible is Yahweh, “I am.”

So when Jesus tells his disciples, “I am,” they immediately know what that means. This is what we call a theophany. Yes, Jesus is identifying himself as their teacher and their leader, but he’s also identifying himself as their lord and their God. And in doing so, he dispelled all of their fear.

Suddenly, the storm didn’t seem so bad, because God was with them. In fact, the gospel tells us that as soon as Jesus got into the boat, they arrived at their destination. They had weathered the storm because the great “I am” was with them.

We’re in the middle of a storm right now. It’s scary, it’s life-threatening, and we don’t know when it’s going to end. But we can know one thing: Jesus is with us in the storm.

He loves us. He’ll never leave us. He wants nothing but the best for us. And he is with us, even now.

That doesn’t mean the danger isn’t real. It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be concerned or make smart decisions for our health or admit that we’re scared. It simply means that even though things are difficult right now, we know we can face the storm, because God is with us.

That gives me hope today. I pray it gives you hope as well. Let’s continue to encourage each other and see each other through this, friends. You are not alone.

Thank you all for reading, and I’ll see you next week.

My Sermon on Humanization

I had the privilege of speaking at my church's midweek service this week, and I shared about the importance of treating other people the way Jesus did. Public speaking is not my strength by a long shot. I'm much more comfortable behind a keyboard than behind a pulpit. But I'm grateful for the opportunity to speak into this moment, and if you'd like to take the time to give it a watch, I would be honored.

When You Hit a Wall

What do you do when you’ve hit a wall? When you’ve tried all you can, and nothing’s working? When it feels like no matter what you do, it still isn’t enough?

We’ve all been there. Whether it’s work, school, relationships, or another area of life, each of us has come to a point where we just don’t see a way forward. And that is a difficult place to be.

So what do we do in these situations? Do we give up? Think of a different approach? Keep trying the same old tactics? It’s not always easy to know what the right step is.

I’ve been reading the book of Acts recently, and I’ve been inspired by the stories of the early church and the many, many obstacles these amazing brothers and sisters they overcame. In the face of resistance, hatred, and even persecution, they persisted in their faith, and they found a way to share the good news of Jesus across the world.

One of those early followers was the apostle Paul. In between starting countless churches and writing a good portion of the New Testament, Paul travelled all around, sharing the gospel with anyone who would listen. He had experienced Christ in a life-altering way, and so he made it his mission to introduce Jesus to as many others as he possibly could.

Paul had a playbook. His typical approach to sharing the gospel in a new town was to worship at the synagogue and tell people about Jesus there. At that time, Jesus-followers were almost all Jewish, Paul included, and so he saw the synagogue as his primary platform for telling people about Christ.

This was met with mixed success. At times, people responded to Paul’s message and became fellow believers. He would develop deep bonds with these new converts and help them start churches out of their homes. Then, when circumstances forced him to, he’d move on to the next city, entrusting the church to carry on the work he’d started there.

Other times, though, Paul didn’t make any headway at the local synagogues. He was even sometimes met with hostility. Acts 13 tells the story of one particularly tense encounter Paul had at the synagogue in Antioch. I’ll let you read it for yourself, but here’s a quick summary:

Paul and his partner Barnabas travel to Antioch to share the gospel there. After first hearing the message, the people seem interested and ask the men to return to the synagogue the following week. But upon their return, Paul and Barnabas are met with resistance and insults that inhibit them from preaching any further.

In other words, they hit a wall. They had been trying to share the gospel with this group of people and seemed to be making progress, but all of a sudden, they found themselves facing a barrier that they could not overcome.

What was Paul to do? He knew that he had been called by God to share the message of Christ’s love with others. He’d even felt led to the city of Antioch. And yet, nothing was happening.

That’s when he decided to regroup. In Acts 13.46, Paul says to the people at the synagogue, “It was necessary that the word of God be spoken first to you. Since you thrust it aside and judge yourselves unworthy of eternal life, behold, we are turning to the Gentiles.”

The word “Gentile” simply means anyone who is not Jewish. Basically, Paul told the people who rejected his message that if they didn’t want it, he would take it elsewhere to those who would be willing to receive it. And in turn, he began bringing the good news to people who had never heard it before, people who weren’t even considered potential converts up to this point.

I imagine that most people reading this fall into the Gentile category. And if you’re a Gentile believer reading this (like me), then you have transformational moments like this one from early church history to thank for your hearing the message. This is one of the earliest instances of the church embracing Gentiles, and I for one am so thankful for that!

When Paul realized that he had hit a wall, what did he do? Well, he didn’t give up. Instead, he used this opposition as an opportunity to discern what God had for him next. And in doing so, he began taking the gospel to a whole new group of people and welcoming them into the family of God. I think that’s pretty amazing.

Throughout the book of Acts, we see the early Christians come up against resistance. But they didn’t get upset. They didn’t give up. And they didn’t blame God (or the devil) for the positions they found themselves in. Instead, they chose to use these moments to reevaluate and ask God what they should do next. Often that was something totally unexpected and new.

What if we took the same approach? Where would we be if we chose to see opposition not as a curse, but as an opportunity for discernment? How different would our lives looks if we searched for wisdom when we hit a wall rather than giving up? It seemed to work pretty well for Paul; maybe we should do it, too.

I’m trying to see things that way now, looking for God’s hand even in the more difficult aspects of life. I don’t believe that God wants us to suffer, but I do believe that God uses those times to form us into who we’re supposed to be and lead us to where we’re supposed to go. But that can only happen if we’re looking for direction in the midst of opposition.

How about you? Have you ever had a similar experience when you felt like you were up against a wall? What do you think of this idea of using resistance as an opportunity for discernment? I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences below.

Thanks for taking the time to read this blog post. I hope that you found it helpful, or maybe even that it made you think a little differently. I’ll talk to you again soon!