Category Archives: theology

There is one sermon I have heard in my life that I think about often. In fact, I rarely go a month without revisiting it in my head.

I have had the privilege of hearing many excellent pastors speak and preach, people who have thousands of twitter followers and podcast listeners. But the sermon that I meditate on was delivered about eight years ago by a twenty-something who had just finished seminary.

I believe the sermon text was Hebrews 12:1-2:

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

What I remember so vividly is that the pastor began to speak about sin easily entangling us. He spoke about the implicit arrogance and pride in saying things like “Divorce is not an option.” In essence, that is saying that you or your spouse could never have an affair or do anything that would warrant a biblical divorce.

The Bible is clear, and not just in this passage, about the fact that sin easily entangles us. If we believe that truth in scripture, I believe two things will happen.

First, we will be less proud and haughty when we see others fall. We will mean it when we say, “There but for the grace of God go I.” This makes it so much easier to heed the proverbs about not rejoicing in our enemy’s failings.

Secondly, we will live differently knowing that we are prone to sin and weakness. We will not encumber ourselves with tricky situations that lead us towards sin. Avoiding grey areas doesn’t have to be legalistic, it can be a freedom. As we fix our eyes on Jesus, we will delight in his sanctification.

Thank you, Joe, for your encouragement to run the race with humility. It is so tempting to look down on others who have fallen or who just don’t measure up. But God’s grace is sufficient for all of us and his power is made perfect in our weakness. Jesus suffered and died, not for the righteous, but to bring sinners safely home to God.

One of the things I’ve been busy with this year has been writing a year’s worth of children’s church lessons that go through the basic, big picture story of the Bible.

I had many goals for this project. I wanted to treat children with respect and tell them the truth. I wanted to avoid easy answers and moralizing that weren’t readily available from the text. I wanted to complement the Jesus Storybook Bible and cover some stories that it omits. I am looking forward to going back through the whole thing and editing it, but for the most part, I feel like I am on the right track.

I expected that writing the curriculum would be more profitable for me than it will be for any single kindergarten or first grade kid who may sit through the lessons. It did not surprise me that I struggled at times with how to explain certain stories to kids because I struggled to explain them to myself. But there were a few surprises along the way.

For example, when I wrote about Jonah recently, I tried to tackle that tricky fourth chapter of Jonah that is often forgotten by story bibles. I remembered well that Jonah did not want to go to Nineveh, did not think the people deserved to be saved, and threw a fit in chapter 4 after the city was spared. But Jonah’s fury is not quite the way I remembered it. When I read it again, it was clear he was saying, “Lord, isn’t this exactly what I thought would happen when I was still at home? That’s why I ran away in the first place! I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster.”

Jonah had every expectation that God would save the Ninevites. He was mad that God for being that gracious, that merciful, that he would save even evil Nineveh. Of course, Jonah had his issues, but I couldn’t help but admire his great faith in God’s power. I know that changing hearts is the work of the Holy Spirit, but Jonah woke me up to some of my own apathy about God’s love for others and his ability to save even those who seem the least interested or needy.

I hope that some churches are able to use what I’ve written and that it will help others, but even now, I am thankful for the opportunity to have wrestled with God’s story this year and for the church that funded the endeavor. Four more lessons to go!

Last month, World Magazine’s blog published a letter our friend Molly wrote to her four young adult sons about reputation. The letter itself and Molly’s new blog are both worth reading!

In an earlier version of the letter Molly posted on facebook, she wrote that she had always prayed that if her sons were in sin, that they would be caught. This idea was new and refreshing to me. We are afraid of the truth sometimes. Afraid to admit the truth to ourselves. Afraid to show our vulnerabilities to others. But we know that the truth will set us free. Instead of being enslaved to secret sins or delusional thoughts, the truth brings freedom to grapple with reality and move forward.

Our sin has consequences and the longer it goes on, the worse things can get. Sin steals joy from us and destroys our peace. But there is hope and healing available to us. As Molly said, “Even when you fall you have a way forward—a well-worn path through repentance, confession, forgiveness, restoration, and hope.”

As I meditate on this, I am praying for myself and my family as Molly has, for our sin to be revealed to us. And if we resist that revelation, that we would be caught in sin. The reality is that sin easily entangles us, and we should not be surprised to find ourselves sinning. But we should not let shame or our reputation prevent us from embracing the path of repentance. It may feel easier to live a lie for a little while, but it will only bring more slavery. Praying that we will believe that the truth brings real freedom.

Most days, I ask Lexi what she did during recess. More often than not, chasing Robert is mentioned. Robert is the son of friends of ours, and in the other kindergarten class at school.

For months, I tried to figure out why Lexi chased Robert. She would say “I don’t know, it’s just what we do.” I discouraged it. Finally, she started telling me, “Mom, Robert wants me to chase him. He likes it.” “Why do you think he likes it?” “He likes it. Let’s not talk about this anymore, please!”

Just recently, we were going over to their house, and Robert’s 3-year-old brother proclaimed with glee, “Kate and Lexi are coming, and Lexi is going to chase Robert!”

Something suddenly clicked for me, and I understood. We all want to be chased, pursued, and wanted: by romantic partners, friends, God. Like a child on the playground, we are begging to be chased.

Sometimes I think we run just to see who will chase after us. It is a way we test relationships, to see if someone loves us enough to pursue us.

Robert is tall and fast. He can slow down and let Lexi catch him, or run fast enough to keep away. That level of control is pretty attractive. But even with our best illusions of dominion, there are always a few things outside of our control.

Perhaps we will stumble on a rock in the path, or our own shoelaces. Other times, like the lost sheep, we run and then we cannot find our way back home.

I remember the lost sheep I know, and pray that they would have the clarity of a small child, to see why they are running and stop in their tracks. I pray they would let themselves be found.

In the midst of it all, I am resting in the promise today that the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost. I am longing for the day when we will all hang up our running shoes for good, and live in perfect relationship with God and with each other. But I am thankful for all those who pursue others with godly love and care as we labor on this side of eternity.

Lexi was having trouble falling asleep last night and called me into her bedroom to talk. She was telling me about the things that were making her anxious. Then all of the sudden, she got agitated.

“I pray to God about all of this and he doesn’t give me what I want!” Her tone was filled with anger and betrayal.

As I listened to Lexi, I realized that I have been feeling the exact same way. Angry that God doesn’t seem to want the same (good) things that I do or chose to manifest them in the ways I think would be best, on my timetable.

Explaining to my kindergartener how God loves us more than we can imagine, but that loving us isn’t the same as giving us what we want is a sobering exercise. Not because she could not understand it but because I wonder how we can be struggling with the very same things. I realize that my example of striving to believe more deeply is something she is already noticing because it is already relevant to her, and I pray that I would not lead her astray. I pray that my life would be an example of faithfulness.

One passage of scripture that I have meditated on countless times came to mind. “I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” When I feel far from God’s goodness, I proclaim in confidence that I will experience it again. And it helps.

I’m still failing at Easter, but I’m a little more hopeful today than I was a few days ago, that remedial work may be making a difference. Like a little child learning how to tie my shoes, I am trying my hand at practicing resurrection.