Category Archives: Devotional Thoughts

The Hands of Jesus

Having Jesus’ feet implies a willingness to go—to be moved by God. Our Savior was willing to go anywhere to teach, preach, heal, and make disciples. We, too, should be willing to go to where lost and hurting people are, even if that involves risk. 

Once we get there, we need Jesus’ eyes—eyes that are perceptive to the needs of those around us. We need compassionate eyes that notice the broken-hearted—the ones forgotten. As best we can as mere humans, we need to strive to see people the way Jesus did.

But going and seeing are not enough. 1 John 3:17 states, “But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?” Going to a brother and noticing his need is clearly not enough. That doesn’t get the job done.

Well, what if I just say something nice and encouraging to the person? Will that check the box? James anticipates this proposition in James 2:15-16: “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?’” 

I appreciate his bluntness although it stings. 

So, if going, noticing, and offering platitudes are not enough, what’s missing? What else do I need? In short, the hands of Jesus. Christians, to the best of our ability, we’ve got to address the problem or find someone who can. As Christ’s ambassadors on this earth, we’ve got to do something! 

Having Jesus’ hands implies a willingness to work—to get our hands dirty and do whatever is required. Our hands are the instruments of our work. Jesus told his disciples, “But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:43-45). He walked the talk when He washed his disciples’ feet (John 13) and even more so when He gave His life on the cross (1 John 3:16). 

What, then, is expected of His followers? Jesus couldn’t have been clearer. “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you” (John 13:14-15). Washing someone’s feet is generally viewed as a metaphorical act of service illustrating love and active kindness. 

But it can also be literal. Some of the most meaningful experiences in my spiritual journey have involved washing feet. On most of our mission trips to Honduras, we visit the Didasko orphanage and wash the feet of the young female residents—girls who are looked down upon in that society and treated as second-class citizens. These are powerful bonding moments that send a clear message that God values these “Daughters of the King” and so do we. 

During my time as an elder at a church in Florida, 3rd grade Bible class teacher Bob Herkelman invited the elders to visit his classroom each fall to pray with his students and then wash their feet. After we got past the initial giggling and awkwardness, we found the practice to be the ultimate ice-breaker. Year after year, it laid a foundation for cross-generational relationships. A child who learns that a church leader cares about him in third grade is a thousand times more likely to seek advice from that elder at age 20 or 40 or 70. So, yes, sometimes washing feet means exactly that. It’s one way to have the hands of Jesus.

How else did Jesus use His hands? For starters, He worked as a skilled carpenter. Like some Sojourners I know, He blessed people through his trade—through his skills and abilities. Even when His disciples disagreed, Jesus had children brought to him and He blessed them with His hands. He also used His hands to heal, including spreading mud on a blind man’s eyes and lifting Jairus’ daughter from her deathbed. Jesus even touched lepers despite the fear and revulsion of most people around them. Time and time again, we see Jesus going, noticing needs, and then using His hands to address those needs. 

The Bible challenges us to get involved and have the hands of Jesus. Hands that will:

  • Love our neighbors (Mark 12:30-31). Can you help a friend (or stranger) move? Can you sooth a fretful baby so a new mom can listen in worship? Can you chauffeur someone from your church or community to an appointment? (An unbelievable number of people need this!)
  • Take care of the poor (Deuteronomy 15:11). Can you intercept and pay a former prisoner’s utility bill? Can you mow and trim the yard of a complete stranger in a poor part of town?
  • Feed the hungry (Isaiah 58:10). Can you assemble food at a food bank? How about distributing ice-cold Gatorade bottles to construction workers in and around Tegucigalpa, Honduras (or St Louis) in the dead of summer? (No, better not do that. That would involve risk!)
  • Clothe the needy (1 John 3:17). Can you give the poor not just your old, raggedy stuff but some new stuff?
  • Be hospitable to strangers (Matthew 25:35). Can you have a new person to the community over for dinner? Or change a stranger’s flat tire?
  • Heal the sick (Luke 10:9, James 5:14). Can you use your medical training locally or on a foreign mission field? Can you hold the hand of a sick friend while praying for their healing?
  • Care for the captive, the prisoner, and the oppressed (Hebrews 13:3, Matthew 25:36). Can you help a stranger clean up after a storm? What about hugging a grieving friend? Can you give someone who is caring for an aging parent or special needs child the day (or weekend!) off so they can get a much-needed break?

Some final principles:

  1. Remember the “OAR” formula… Opportunity + Ability = Responsibility. We’re not called to do things we can’t do or know nothing about. Focus on what is before you that you can act on. And, where appropriate, involve your children or some other younger Christian in the ministry. Strengthen “the hands” of the next generation.
  2. Your act of service doesn’t have to be some “big” thing. In fact, most of our acts of compassion will be small things. God sees everything and they’re all big to Him.
  3. Be sure to work in some fun, crazy, unconventional things. Life is too short to only do boring stuff. I watched an Instagram video this week of a guy who gave a struggling street vendor $500 for ALL of her hot dogs (and a big tip) and then distributed those hot dogs to the nearby homeless. (I know, can’t do that! Too risky!) Another couple of guys tried to distribute two dozen McDonald’s sausage biscuits to people in the waiting rooms and behind the desks at a local hospital. After distributing 23 of the biscuits to various, quite appreciative loved ones and staff and offering prayers for patients willing to be prayed for, the men were kicked out of the hospital by security. The audacity! The men split the last biscuit on the way out and would do it all again! Being the hands of Jesus doesn’t have to be boring. Every once in a while, try a roundoff from the balance beam!
  4. Strive to be versatile and multi-functional, like the blank tile in a game of Scrabble. Develop new skills. Push your boundaries. Grow spiritually. For example, you may only become a great (or even average) Bible class teacher by attempting it, working at it, and having a mentor show you the way. Try not to go to your grave having only tapped 2% of your God-given potential. (See Matthew 25:14-30)
  5. As added motivation, remember Christ’s words in Matthew 25:40: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Whatever we do for someone else, however big or small, we effectively do for Jesus. Let that sink in. He notices it. He feels it. And He gets all the glory! This is one way to indirectly (or would it be directly?) thank Jesus for all that He has done for us.

As I finish my thoughts on having the eyes, feet, and hands of Jesus, it occurs to me that what we really want is to have the heart of Jesus.  Because to the extent we have Jesus’ heart—full of love and compassion—the feet, eyes, and hands will follow.

I’ll end where I began, with the beautiful prayer of a 16th Century Spanish nun, St. Teresa of Ávila:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours. 

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The Eyes of Jesus

We begin, again, with the beautiful prayer of a 16th Century Spanish nun, St. Teresa of Ávila:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours. 

             — St. Teresa of Ávila

Having Jesus’ feet implies a willingness to go—to be moved by God. Our Savior was willing to go anywhere to teach, preach, heal, and make disciples. We, too, should be willing to go to where lost and hurting people are, even if that involves risk. But going isn’t enough. What happens when we get there?

Friends, we also need the eyes of Jesus. But what does that entail?

I’ll begin with Brandon Heath’s “Give Me Your Eyes”—a 2008 song that has inspired and challenged me since the first time I heard it. In the video, he’s returning from a trip and is about to land. 

Look down from a broken sky

Traced out by the city lights

My world from a mile high

Best seat in the house tonight

Have you been there? Flying home. Feeling good. Window seat. The man looks down on his beautiful home city all lit up.

Touch down on the cold black top

Hold on for the sudden stop

Breath in the familiar shock

Of confusion and chaos

All those people going somewhere

Why have I never cared

In an instant, the peace and serenity turn to chaos and confusion. He’s surrounded by humanity. People are scrambling to make a connecting flight or retrieve luggage. Troubled expressions in every direction. Something inspires the man to look at them, to really see them, perhaps for the first time. 

Give me your eyes for just one second

Give me your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missing

Give me your love for humanity

Give me your arms for the broken hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me your heart for the ones forgotten

Give me your eyes so I can see

Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

The man appeals to God to open his eyes to hurting people—the broken-hearted, the ones forgotten; to see them and love them like Jesus did. He exits the airport with a new set of eyes.

Step out on a busy street

See a girl and our eyes meet

Does her best to smile at me

To hide what’s underneath

There’s a man just to her right

Black suit and a bright red tie

Too ashamed to tell his wife

He’s out of work, He’s buying time

All those people going somewhere

Why have I never cared

The man notices a hurting girl on the street who is hiding something underneath. Who are the people around us who are “hiding what’s underneath”? He doesn’t just notice the distraught man in a suit. He goes deeper, imagining what could have brought the man to such despair. Christians, do we care about these forgotten people? Do we even notice them?

Give me your eyes for just one second

Give me your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missing

Give me your love for humanity

Give me your arms for the broken hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me you heart for the ones forgotten

Give me your eyes so I can see

Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

The man is asking God for a second chance and a new perspective—to be able to see people the way Jesus did… to notice them at grocery stores, while waiting for the bus, on the back pew, or just people we pass on the street. He’s asking for Jesus’ eyes.

I’ve been here a million times

A couple of million eyes

Just move and pass me by

I swear I never thought that I was wrong

Well I want a second glance

So give me a second chance

To see you the way you’ve seen the people all along

Jesus’ eyes noticed things. He picked up on big things—the lame, the demon-possessed—but also on the subtleties. When Jesus looked at the people he met, he didn’t judge them by the standards of the day. He looked beyond the outward circumstances of their lives—circumstances that invited condemnation from the religious leaders and the community—and showed them love. 

Consider Jesus’ compassionate exchange with the woman caught in adultery or his interactions with Zacchaeus, the tax collector reviled in his community. Or how about when He went to a well at noon and had what for many would be an awkward, difficult conversation with an outcast Samaritan woman who had had five husbands and was living with a man not her husband.

One commentator mentions that Jesus brought “sandpaper” to each situation, but it always had just the right amount of grit. He could love, challenge, encourage, and motivate… all in the same interaction.

We need to not only be willing go to go to challenging places (the feet of Jesus), but notice things once when we get there (His eyes). I’ve got work to do here. I’m not nearly as perceptive as my wife, Janet. While driving home after worship services, she’ll ask, “Did you notice David wasn’t himself today?” I’ll reply, “David was at church today?” While I’m focused on the impressive way the preacher has organized his sermon, my wife is noticing people. I need to do a better job at noticing who’s here, who’s missing, and how the people who are here are doing.

That’s having the eyes of Jesus. Your head is on a swivel. You’re paying attention.

At a recent men’s retreat, I asked the attendees to close their eyes. I then asked them what was red in the room. Only one of them knew. He pointed in the direction of his friend who was wearing a red shirt. I then asked them to open their eyes and look for red. It was all around them! They pointed at a red cup, an American flag, various items of clothing, and other things. You see it’s easy to notice red when you’re looking for it. And it’s easy to notice the needs of those around us—the ones forgotten—when we wake up every morning with the eyes of Jesus.

What if we each took the chorus to “Give Me Your Eyes” and made it our life’s motto?

Give me your eyes for just one second

Give me your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missing

Give me your love for humanity

Give me your arms for the broken hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me you heart for the ones forgotten

Give me your eyes so I can see

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The Feet of Jesus

St. Teresa of Ávila and I don’t have much in common. She was a petite 16th Century Spanish nun and I’m a largish 21st Century American Christian. Doctrinally, we don’t align on some issues. But she wanted to share God’s love with those around her—I identify with that. That’s what I want my life to be about. She felt—as do I—that we are Christ’s ambassadors—His representatives in this messed up world. In 2 Corinthians 5:20a, Paul puts it this way: “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.”

As such, it’s up to Christians to be Christ’s feet, His eyes, and His hands. Collectively, Christians—the church—are His body. Here’s how a nun who lived 500 years ago put it:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours. 

             — St. Teresa of Ávila

How can we do that? How can we love the people we meet, even in the routine circumstances of our lives? How can we be God’s ambassadors here on earth? What does it mean to be the feet, eyes, and hands of Christ?  

Let’s start with His feet. Having Jesus’ feet implies a willingness to go—to be moved by God. Our Savior was willing to go anywhere to teach, preach, heal, and make disciples. 

In Mark 5, He was willing to travel to the country of the Gerasenes to confront a demon-possessed man who lived among the tombs and had broken the chains that bound him. The scary, pitiful man cried out and cut himself night and day. Jesus was willing to go there, confront the demons, and cast them into a herd of pigs.

Our Lord was also willing to go into a “den of thieves” and overturn tables in Mark 11. The vendors had turned God’s house of prayer into a marketplace and were ripping off their customers. Jesus was willing to go there to say and do some hard things. Are we?

In John 11, Jesus was willing to walk to Bethany, knowing that his friend Lazarus had died. He comforted Martha and Mary and ultimately raised Lazarus to life again.

Most importantly, Jesus’ feet took Him to a hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem, where He died on a cross, paying the ultimate price for humanity’s sin. According to Romans 5:8, “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Do we have the feet of Jesus? Are we willing to go?

We find many examples in Scripture of faithful believers who were willing to go. Abraham was instructed to leave his country and relatives and go to a land God would later show him (Genesis 12:1). He trusted God and “it was credited to him as righteousness” (Genesis 12:6). He had willing feet.

Ruth, a childless widow, was willing to leave her homeland and family and accompany her mother-in-law, Naomi, to Judah (Ruth 1). Her sacrificial actions showed deep loyalty, obedience, diligence, and love. Like Abraham, Ruth had willing feet. 

In the New Testament, Jesus called 12 ordinary young men to become his closest disciples, asking them to walk away from their jobs, families, and personal safety to do so. They dropped everything and followed Him. Their willing feet tracked the steps of Jesus.

Jonah, on the other hand, ran from God’s call to Nineveh, fearful of what might come of such a risky venture (Jonah 1). At the beginning of his story, his feet were unwilling to go where God was calling him. Have you ever felt unwilling to answer God’s call?

Christians, if we’re going to be Christ’s ambassadors, we need to be willing to go. Imagine Mike Huckabee, the U.S. Ambassador to Israel, telling the President, “I appreciate you appointing me ambassador. It’s truly an honor to serve. But just so you know, I won’t actually be traveling to Israel. Too risky!” In Matthew 28:19-20, Jesus says, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Being the “feet” of Jesus, therefore, implies that Christ’s followers will actually get up and go. 

Don’t get me wrong—sending missionaries to faraway places is wonderful. God needs senders. And due to health, age, or other constraints, “going” may not be possible for some. But, as one preacher put it, “going has to be more than just sending.” Whether it’s in our immediate circles, our neighborhoods, or globally, we are commissioned to share the good news of what Jesus Christ has done, is doing, and will do and not keep the gospel hidden to ourselves.

I’m afraid we tend to want to comfortably stay where we are, surrounded by people who look like us and believe like us, rather than venturing out where needs are. Think about it—it’s possible to live in a gated (or exclusive) community, home school your kids, and hang out and worship with mainly Christians. If you work from home and do your shopping online, you can avoid even more interaction with “the world.”

I’m not knocking any of those things individually. There are upsides to limiting our risk and exposure to the world. I’m thankful for my Christian friends and love being around them. The problem is we can’t be the light of the world (Matthew 5:14) if we’re not around some darkness. We can’t be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13) if we have isolated our seasoning from the world.

Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners, and yet we who call ourselves Jesus’ followers sometimes give the impression we only want to be around Christians like us. How can we reach people who we’ve largely excluded ourselves from? To be effective ambassadors of Christ, we simply must have touch points with our lost and dying world.  

Christians, in short, we need the feet of Jesus—feet that are willing to go. We need to be willing to go where lost and hurting people are—prisons, disaster areas, mission fields, homeless shelters, inner cities, and crisis pregnancy centers. 

“But that could be risky!”

You bet it could be risky! 

How can we read the Bible and walk away thinking our Christian walk—our Christian ministry—doesn’t involve risk? God has always looked for people willing to set aside their personal comforts and interests to follow him and share in His ministry. He’s invested in the growth and transformation of His followers (Romans 12:1-2), and part of that growth involves being challenged and stretched.

Have you been challenged in serving God lately? Have you been stretched? Have you taken on any risk to serve Christ? Have you taught a Bible class for the first time, despite concerns over not being sufficiently qualified? Have you invited a neighbor or co-worker to church, despite concerns that the conversation might feel awkward or somehow harm the relationship?

Jesus warned his would-be disciples that following Him wasn’t for the faint of heart. “If anyone wishes to come after Me,” He said, “he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it” (Mat. 16:24-25). Every faithful servant of God who we read about took risks—many suffered and some gave their lives for Jesus and the message of the gospel. Sadly, many others found the cost of discipleship too much to bear and turned back.  

In my all-time favorite YouTube video, Francis Chan pretends to be an Olympic gymnast competing on the balance beam. He carefully crawls onto the beam and then clings to it tightly with both hands for the duration of the routine. He dismounts by carefully crawling off the beam then triumphantly raises his hands toward the judges, anticipating a stellar score. Chan asks, “What are the judges supposed to do with that?” How are they supposed to score the routine highly when the gymnast played it safe and took no risks? 

Granted, we can’t earn our way to heaven—my salvation is based on what Jesus did on the cross, not my earthly deeds. Same goes for you. But in response to Jesus selflessly shedding His blood for me, I should be willing to take some risks for Him. I should be willing to go. I don’t want to play it safe throughout my life, gripping the beam, and then stand before the Judge of the Universe one day and hear, “Why’d you play it safe, Steve? How come you never took any risks for me? Didn’t you realize I would have been right there beside you in all those opportunities you were too scared to embrace?”

Following in the footsteps of Jesus is the essence of what it means to be a Christian—a disciple of Christ. Just as Christ was willing to bring light, life, love, hope, and forgiveness to his creation, so Christians today are called to step out in faith, follow Him, and deliver the same message to a world in desperate need of a savior.   

Will we answer the call? 

Will we assume risk and be willing to bring light to dark and difficult places?

Will we be the feet of Jesus?

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Circling the Herd

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” – Philippians 2:4

On Monday, a 5.2-magnitude earthquake struck San Diego County, knocking boulders onto county roads and overturning groceries from store shelves. What made national news was not the earthquake itself but rather the reaction of a herd of elephants at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. As the ground shook and startled the animals, the three older elephants scrambled to encircle and protect the two 7-year-old calves. Even after the rumbling subsided, the older pachyderms—with their unique ability to detect sounds through their feet—stood watch with their ears spread and flapping. Mindy Albright, a curator of mammals at the park, said that once the elephants form their alert circle, “they sort of freeze as they gather information about where the danger is.” 

The instinctive reaction of these senior elephants reminds me of some other “alert circles” I’ve witnessed recently. On the same day as the earthquake, I watched a tiny toddler attempt a dash for freedom at a crowded food pavilion at the Saint Louis Zoo. Her watchful father knew the danger, noticed the attempted escape, and lovingly tracked the child down and corralled her in his arms. Had he not noticed his fleeing child, I—a stranger—would have attempted to rescue her from the menacing pink flamingos eyeballing her.

More seriously, a friend of mine recently tried to pick a member up to attend worship services on Sunday morning, his customary practice. (The week prior, he had found the man unresponsive due to a medical condition and had to call an ambulance.) This time, when a stranger and his two companions answered the door, my friend’s alert level went up. He sensed something wasn’t right. One of the guys, unhappy with my friend’s desire to take the man to church, retrieved a box cutter and threatened my friend’s life. The police were called and the perpetrator was sent back to jail. Since then (and prior to then), several Christians have formed an “alert circle” around our troubled friend to help him physically, spiritually, and emotionally. He is vulnerable—“the least of these” as Jesus calls them—and faces threats all around him.                      

Why care? Why get involved? As the Apostle Paul puts it, each Christian is called to “look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” In 1 Peter 5:8, Peter reminds us to “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” Christians need to regularly circle the wagons around and try to protect those at risk. Sometimes we’re the ones standing guard and other times we ourselves are the vulnerable sheep needing protection.  

Closer to home, my wife and I recently relocated to Missouri to be closer to family—specifically a grandson with another on the way. We hope to be a positive influence on their lives. With threats all around, we’ll stand watch and, along with their parents and others, help form their “alert circle” whenever needed. In conjunction with our move, Janet’s elderly parents, who have been under our care for over five years, moved in with Janet’s middle sister and her husband. Although they’ve always been concerned and involved, now they are on the frontlines—the first line of protection and defense. As the inevitable physical and mental decline of these dear Senior Saints unfolds, Janet’s sister and her husband will offer care and protection. 

Parents and grandparents, alert to danger, form protective barriers around their children and grandchildren. Teachers do the same for their students. Church elders (shepherds) do this for the sheep who make up their congregations, and caregivers do so for those under their care. In each case, we see concerned people standing guard, like those senior elephants, ready to mobilize to protect the ones they love.

The elephants’ actions during the earthquake teach us another lesson. Although the video shows the female calf running for refuge between the adults who raised her, the only male calf remains on the outer edge of the circle. The curator said he was attempting to show his courage and independence. The older female elephant who helped raise him repeatedly taps him on the back and face with her trunk, coaxing him to remain in the herd’s alert circle. Sometimes our protective nurturing of those we love may require more than a gentle nudge. 

In whatever protective roles God has called us to serve, may we faithfully stand watch—ears “spread and flapping”—with those we are charged to protect close at hand.

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Run to the Sound of the Guns

“Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one—I am talking like a madman—with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death. Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure.”  – 2 Corinthians 11:23-27

Nicholas Moore, like other military warriors and first responders, was trained to “run to the sound of the guns.” Training is necessary because the notion is counterintuitive. Our instincts are to run away from the sound of gunfire. We naturally want to escape the burning house rather than enter it. Putting oneself in harm’s way—a counterintuitive action—requires training and courage.

Nicholas Moore had both. He served over a decade in an elite special operations unit within the US Army’s 75th Ranger Regiment on the battlefields of Afghanistan and Iraq. In Iraq, he “participated in the rescue of Private Jessica Lynch, hunted Iraq’s Most Wanted, and experienced brutal street combat, including 160 night-time missions over one 90-day deployment in the insurgent stronghold of Mosul. While serving in Afghanistan, he was also part of the search and rescue operation for Navy SEAL Marcus Luttrell (author of Lone Survivor) and was on the ground again when a Chinook helicopter was shot down resulting in the death of 38 men and one military working dog. It was the single greatest loss of special operations personnel to date.”

Moore tells his riveting and deeply personal story in the appropriately named book, Run to the Sound of the Guns. Readers gain insight on what inspires someone like him to go in the direction of trouble, rather than retreat. Through training and sheer guts, men and women like Nicholas Moore are wired differently than others.

The Apostle Paul, as we learn in the opening passage, possessed similar, counterintuitive instincts. After all the suffering he endured, I wouldn’t have blamed him for wanting to dial back his ministry. I would have understood him curtailing risky activities that brought him pain. Instead, Paul, like Nicholas Moore, repeatedly ran toward the sound of the guns. In 2 Corinthians 12:10, Paul provides his motivation: “For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 

The most effective Christians I know are the ones who run toward the sound of the guns. One couple adopted a “high risk” child that no one else wanted. Another couple gives up all that is comfortable and familiar to serve as missionaries in a poverty-stricken, third-world country. Others invest in troubled teens, forgotten prisoners, and homeless addicts—people too often neglected due to the high level of difficulty involved. Instinctively, most would prefer to adopt a healthy, well-adjusted child (and there’s goodness in that). If we evangelize at all, better to do so in a safe, middle-class neighborhood. Less potential for gunfire, right?

I want to live counterintuitively. My goal is to be more like Nicholas Moore or, better yet, the Apostle Paul. I want to be involved in ministries that most are unwilling to do. Like Paul, I want to draw strength from hardship and persecution. I want to take risks and take chances for God. I don’t want to appear before Jesus on Judgement Day and hear, “Wow, Steve, you sure played it safe! Didn’t you realize I was right beside you in all those battles you avoided?”

After all Jesus did for us, let’s be bold and courageous. It’s time to get our hands dirty in ministry. It’s time to run toward the sound of the guns!

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D.R. Valdosta: Miss Cooky

Miss Cooky (with a y) Lundy has seen a lot in her 83 years—she’ll be 84 on Halloween. The Senior Saint has endured open heart surgery, the installation of a pacemaker, blood sugar issues and, two years ago, a broken leg. Ever since Covid arrived, she’s felt the need to listen to worship services on her car’s radio while sitting in the church parking lot. She’s estranged from her only child, two grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren, and lost her beloved husband Paul eight years ago. 

Her scars run even deeper. According to Jenna Fairbrother, a first-time volunteer with the Churches of Christ Disaster Response Team (DRT), Miss Cooky carries considerable baggage. “I was blessed to spend the day with Miss Cooky—my first DRT assignment. She’s originally from Fort Pierce, Florida. She and her twin were the youngest of six siblings, but her twin died at nine months, around the same time as her father. She never knew either of them. She was abused by her mom and grew up thinking the wrong twin had died. Her mother didn’t push back on that narrative and said young Cooky ‘wasn’t valuable.'”

Miss Cooky’s low self-esteem improved some when she fell in love with and married Paul Lundy, the love of her life. Their relationship was partly motivated by Cooky’s desire to get away from her family who wanted to have her committed. Paul was a trucker and the mechanically-minded Cooky helped him maintain his semis. Their first few years were rough because, as Cooky puts it, “He didn’t know how to love me. That took time.”

The two moved from Florida to Valdosta, Georgia, nearly 40 years ago and purchased a house that was built in 1863. All of its pieces were hand cut and her husband remodeled the home—added plumbing, installed a bathroom, and made other improvements. The couple lived there together for over 30 years, secluded in a forest, and filled the place with memories. Sadly, he died eight years ago and Miss Cooky’s world was once again turned upside down.

“I used to sit on the front porch and watch the road, waiting for my husband to come home. And finally, I had to tell myself, ‘Cooky, he’s not coming home. He’s gone. You’ve got to get your life together and go on with it.’”

Cooky’s attempts to move on with her life were dealt another blow when Hurricane Helene roared through town on Friday, September 27, 2024. Helene, the deadliest hurricane to strike the mainland U.S. since Katrina in 2005, took the lives of 228 people (and counting) in the United States, including 33 in Georgia. In Valdosta, terrifying winds of 100+ mph ripped off roofs, mangled metal, and tore up signs. More than 115 structures were severely damaged or destroyed.

Sadly, Miss Cooky’s home was not spared. The awful storm dropped a 42-inch-wide tree on top of her house, crushing her kitchen. The impact destroyed her roof and drove some of the piers that hold up her house deeper into the ground. She was home at the time but, thankfully, God spared her life. 

In the immediate aftermath of the storm, Miss Cooky once again became depressed. No one from her local congregation showed up to help her. (In their defense, the storm knocked out power and wreaked havoc on nearly everyone, so there was a lot of scrambling going on in those first couple of days.) Eventually, an unnamed team arrived to remove the tree and jack up the floor beams to level the house again.

She also heard through the grapevine that the Churches of Christ Disaster Response Team was helping storm victims in the area. When she heard that they could rebuild her kitchen and roof for free, she assumed it was a scam. She contacted a member of her church family who did some research and concluded DRT was legit.

John Albright, a DRT Coordinator for the past eight years, visited Miss Cooky with the necessary paperwork and got a tour of her damaged home. He told her, “We can do this, and it won’t cost you a thing. I’ll have the lumber here tomorrow and will line up a crew. DRT can tear down that wing of the house and rebuild the kitchen and roof and make it whole again.”

Miss Cooky frowned. She explained that her late husband had put his heart and soul into that home. It was, in a sense, an 1860’s shrine to him. It represents him in a very real way to her. She didn’t want anyone removing the remnants of her kitchen. That would be like taking her husband away again.

The DRT crew arrived a couple of days later and determined that they could save her walls. They chained those walls to a truck and pulled them forward to attach to new beams. They added new braces and ceiling joints. In the end, the DRT crew saved two-thirds of the original walls, clapboard siding, and even the square vintage nails. Seeing the finished product, Miss Cooky was more than a little chipper.

She told John, “Before the storm, I was feeling depressed and helpless and down. And y’all just showed up out of nowhere. My friends are telling me that what I’m seeing is an outpouring of love from God and I need to recognize it. Y’all are just like angels God has sent to me. You have healed my body and healed my mind and I feel so much better… because you guys are here helping me.”

John, recalling a devo that morning from Ephesians 2:10, told her, “Miss Cooky, we are God’s workmanship—His very best creation. He was at the top of His game when He made humankind. And He made us for a purpose—to do good works, which He has prepared in advance for us to do.” About that time, a gentleman from Miss Cooky’s church stopped by to donate to DRT. “Y’all are helping Miss Cooky, so we want to help you.” Another unexpected blessing in a week full of them.

After spending time with Miss Cooky, Jenna said, “DRT taught her how to give and receive love. Before that, she was only good at giving love. I can relate to that. I have my own family baggage, and I’m in therapy… I don’t mind you sharing that. I’m working through the 12-step program. One of my issues is allowing myself to receive love. I’m better at dealing with other’s trauma and emotions than my own. Maybe God called me to serve in Valdosta so I could meet, encourage, and be encouraged by Miss Cooky.”

John added, “Prior to the storm, she felt worthless. We have touched this woman and we have brought her back from the emotional brink and that is so much of what we want to do. The devo that morning gave me just the right words to say to her. That’s not coincidence. That’s God at work. And He’s at work all the time. I’m telling you, Steve, God’s at work here and it’s super obvious to me. You can’t mistake it.”

Another DRT group from Pennsylvania visited Miss Cooky and learned that her refrigerator was malfunctioning. She said, “Even before the storm, it wasn’t working right. After a few days, my food got slimy. I haven’t been eating too much.” She told Jenna she had lost 15 pounds over the past few weeks. She apologized for not having her teeth in because her dentures no longer fit her mouth. So, the Pennsylvania team bought her a new refrigerator and a hot plate. Problem solved.

Cooky & Jenna

John, tearing up, commented, “These are the things you hope for. I come here and pray and ask God for things, but I don’t always see the results. The people we help may not have an epiphany until later, if at all. She’d been real upset—thought her church had forgotten her. Thought the world had forgotten her. Thought she had no value. I think we helped change that perspective and that’s about as rewarding as it gets. As I said goodbye to her…” John wiped his eyes again and gathered himself. “She handed me a memento—a square nail from her home.”

Before Jenna departed, Miss Cooky asked her, “Is it too late for me?”

“No, ma’am. You can always learn to receive love—I’m learning that lesson now, just like you. It’s hard to fill another person’s cup from an empty cup.”

“I’m almost 84 and alone. Do you think I still have a purpose?”

“I know God has a purpose for your life, Miss Cooky. There’s a reason he spared you from that storm. Just today, you’ve had a wonderful impact on me.”

Miss Cooky looked around at her new kitchen and wiped tears from her eyes. “Look at my castle, just look at it. But Paul’s not here to enjoy it.”

“That’s true,” Jenna replied. “But you get to enjoy it. You deserve this house. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not valuable. You are more than worthy.”

Hurricanes and other storms often bring death and destruction. But out of the devastation, God’s blessings emerge. James 1:2-4 reminds us, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

I suspect, this week, Miss Cooky, John, and Jenna grew in their faith, becoming more steadfast, perfect, and complete. Even in a storm, God is faithful.

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Becoming Like a 1st Grader

Last week I had the opportunity to substitute teach a classroom full of 1st graders at a local Christian school. My wife said I was crazy for taking this on—a “glutton for punishment.” She’s not wrong. Signing up to teach and corral 19 six and seven-year-olds on their first full week of school is fraught with danger. It’s eight hours of non-stop instructing, correcting, and keeping your head on a swivel. At the end of each day, I wanted to lie in a fetal position on the floor of my bedroom closet and not talk to anyone or answer any questions. By Friday afternoon, my appreciation for full-time teachers was at an all-time high. They are underpaid and underappreciated.

Still, it was an amazing week. In Matthew 18:3, Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” High stakes—He’s got my attention. But what does He mean by that? His charge, on the surface, sounds counter-intuitive. Shouldn’t 1st graders strive to become more like you and me? Perhaps in some ways. But this week reminded me of how much I can learn from a 1stgrader…

1st Graders are dependent on others and know it. These young people are at the mercy of their parents, teachers, and others to provide for them and sustain them. For 450 minutes each day last week, they humbly came to me for help tying shoes, opening milk cartons, microwaving chicken nuggets, making capital letters, and a hundred other tasks. They trusted me to do the right thing and help them solve each challenge. Similarly, God wants us to totally rely on Him. Too often, I strive for self-sufficiency. I pat myself on the back for some achievement, forgetting that every talent and ability I have comes from God. Apart from Jesus—the vine—I am nothing. (John 15:5) I need to empty myself, trust God, and humbly ask Him to fill me and sustain me. Without Him, I’m left with untied shoes and unopened milk cartons.

1st Graders are vulnerable and transparent. On Monday morning, the second day of school, I asked the students to complete a “First Day Feelings with Chester” chart. One by one, they indicated whether, on day one, they were mostly “Excited,” “Happy,” “Sad,” or “Scared.” Eleven of the 19 students, over half the class, admitted to being either “Sad” or “Scared.” Several commented that they missed their parents or were nervous about what to expect on the first day of a new school year. I appreciated their honesty and vulnerability. Too often, when someone asks how we’re doing, we say, “Fine,” even when things are not fine. We put on our happy faces, especially in church settings, and rarely ask for prayers or help. Here’s the problem: I can’t bear your burden (Galatians 6:2) if I don’t know what burdens you, and you can’t do the same for me. Whenever things are not “fine,” a 1st grader will let you know. Let’s learn from them and get the prayers and support we need.

First Day Feelings

1st Graders are loving. Oh, sure, there were moments of unkindness—not sharing or not including someone in a game at recess. But there were far more moments of kindness. As they lined up in the hallway waiting for their turn at the restroom on Tuesday, one young lady informed me that her friend was sad. Sure enough, there was another young lady in line with her head down, crying. I hadn’t noticed her but her friend had. She trusted me to investigate and do something to remedy the situation, which I did. Do we notice hurting friends? Do we do something to help them or involve someone who can? Do we pray for them? Becoming like a child involves having the sweet, caring heart of a child. 

1st Graders are curious and eager to learn. I love the joy on a child’s face when they work hard and finally figure something out. These young people watched and listened intently as I illustrated on the smartboard how prayer is us talking to God and reading the Bible is God talking to us. Later, one girl proudly and correctly used the word “cooperation” in a sentence—a word we had learned that morning. As I asked them questions after each page of a picture book I read to them, every hand went up. Without prompting, most of them thought to grab their little Bibles before going to chapel. Throughout the week, they listened, learned, and wanted me to know that they had learned. Do we have that same attitude toward Bible study? Do we hunger and thirst for righteousness? (Matthew 5:6) Or, in the realm of religion, are we content that we already know all that we need to know? I need a 1st grader’s eagerness to never stop learning, especially about God.

1st Graders are quick to rejoice and quick to forgive. We had a lot of fun last week. I’m finding I often relate more to children than adults—I don’t know what that says about me! I taught these children a class chant. Whenever I said, “Booga, booga, booga!” they said, “Ah, ah, ahhhh!” (I learned that at Air Force basic training.) I let them rename me for a day, and they chose “Mr. Chicken Head”—which caused more than a little confusion when one parent asked her child who taught them that day. At recess, I sat in the grass with a dozen girls and told them fanciful stories that I made up on the fly. They giggled when I informed them that Elf on the Shelf, during the off-season, lives in the pipes under the bathroom. I told them about Santa getting stuck in the chimney on Christmas Eve at “Molly’s” house, but Molly couldn’t hear him because she was snoring. Molly raised her hand and informed me that it couldn’t have been her because she had surgery to remove her adenoids. I stand corrected. We took a hike around the campus, turned over rocks, and chased butterflies. With each discovery and each story, the children laughed. They were full of joy. And when a classmate said or did something unkind to them, they were quick to forgive and move on as if nothing had happened. Do we rejoice in the Lord always? (Philippians 4:4) Do we still marvel at the amazing things in God’s creation? (Psalm 19:1) Do we forgive one another, as the Lord has forgiven us? (Colossians 3:13) I’ve got some work to do. 

“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

I get it now.

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Staying on Track

“Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.”  – 1 Thessalonians 5:11

David Schilling, a local youth minister, stepped onto Knoxville Christian School’s gymnasium floor to conduct chapel. As impressionable students looked on, he retrieved a beach ball and unrolled 30 feet of butcher block paper. He invited his son, a student at the school, to attempt to roll the beach ball the entire length of the paper without it going out of bounds. His son’s first attempt rolled halfway down the paper and then veered off to the left. His next try went two-thirds of the way and then faded off to the right.

Despite his son’s lack of success in completing the challenge, David made the task even more difficult. Halfway down the paper, he tore it in two and put the second half of the pathway at an angle. Unfortunately, his son’s third try was his worst yet. His ball was unable to negotiate the turn and once again went off course.

Life is like that. With all the twists and turns, staying on track seems impossible. There are temptations and bad influences all around us. We face unanticipated hurdles and roadblocks. In 2 Timothy 4:7, the Apostle Paul tells us, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” As difficult as it is to stay on the straight and narrow path, how can we follow his lead and finish the race?

With his son holding the beach ball at the starting line, David invited the entire 1st-grade class to join them on the gymnasium floor. He distributed about a dozen pool noodles to these students and asked them to sit along both sides of the butcher block paper—his son’s path. On his son’s fourth attempt, the beach ball went straight for several feet, and started to veer, but was kept on the path by an eager first-grader clutching a pool noodle. At the tricky turn, another student used an elbow to redirect the ball and keep it on course. To the cheers of the delighted crowd, the ball eventually crossed the finish line, and David’s son raised his fist in victory.

The note from the margin reads: The Christian journey is too difficult to travel alone. Christians need fellow Christians armed with elbows and pool noodles to help keep them on the path of faith. Those nudges are necessary though not always pleasant or appreciated at the time. Other times, Christians need to be the ones offering encouragement to help a friend finish the race. Today, let’s grab our proverbial pool noodles and look for someone to encourage and nudge along to the finish line.

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No Denying

“For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.” – Romans 1:20

Do not let the things you cannot understand overwhelm the things you cannot deny.

Electricity is fascinating to me. In high school Science, we studied the attraction of protons and electrons. A colorful diagram showed electrons moving around. Somehow, that energy moves to conductive wires and travels into our homes and businesses. I can’t explain it. If you handed me the necessary supplies, I couldn’t replicate it. Though I don’t fully understand the wonder of electricity, I can’t deny it. Evidence of its existence is all around me.

Yawning is another puzzling phenomenon. There is no universally agreed-upon theory for why we yawn, even though we all do it. Our best scientists have also been unable to prove why yawning is contagious. When we see someone yawn, we tend to follow suit. Though I don’t fully understand yawning, I can’t deny that it’s real.

There are plenty of things I don’t fully understand in the realm of religion and faith:

  1. How was Jesus fully human and fully divine at the same time?
  2. What exactly will Heaven be like? What will we do all day?
  3. How does God’s providence work? Why does He seem to answer certain prayers but not others?
  4. Why do we still feel guilty after repenting?
  5. How does our triune God function as three persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit?

My inability to fully answer these questions and many others doesn’t disprove the existence of God any more than my ignorance of electricity and yawning disprove those realities. The note from the margin reads: From the precise design of the universe to the intricacies of the human body, God shouts his existence. I see Him in fulfilled Bible prophecies, complex DNA code, innate moral law, and newborn babies.

Electricity exists. Yawning happens. God is real. There’s no denying these things. Do not let the things you cannot understand overwhelm the things you cannot deny.

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Souls on Fire

“Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire.” – Jennifer Lee

Reach One, Teach One (R1T1) and Mi Esperanza—two missions we support in Honduras—are, on the surface, very different. They have different missions and address different underlying problems in Honduran society. However, in addition to being faith-based, they have another thing in common. Dalton Hines and Lori Connell, the respective founders and leaders, are dealers in hope. In myriad ways, they help the men and women of Honduras develop marketable skills, a sense of purpose, and hope for the future. Hold that thought.

Dalton and his R1T1 Crew
Lori and friends

Forty-one years ago, Jennifer Lee was a miserable middle-schooler with divorced parents. She was, by her own account, “Always a mess. Stains on my clothes… knots in my hair… chubby. I was born into a very modest life. I was a kid with ADHD, terrible in school. I don’t think people ever thought I could amount to anything.”

Jennifer’s life raft was a VHS tape of Cinderella, rewatched daily for its pep talk in perseverance. “Cinderella was bullied severely and I was bullied. But she stayed true to herself, even when it was really hard. Something about the concept of fighting through it helped me. I think a lot of us get knocked down often, over and over again, in our lives.”

According to Catherine Shoard in The Guardian, “After a few stumbles, Lee ended up in New York with a job in publishing, a postgraduate degree in film, and a young daughter. When Agatha was seven, they decamped to Hollywood so that Lee could do rewrite work on the script for Disney’s Wreck-It Ralph. Two months turned into 12 years; today, Lee is chief creative officer at the company where she once temped. She won an Oscar for Frozen in 2014, which also made her the first woman ever to direct a film (which she also scripted) that made more than $1 billion.” 

How do you go from a young, bullied Cinderella fan to a billion-dollar boss at Disney? You work hard and you never lose hope. Jennifer lived her famous quote, which undergirds our theme for this year’s mission trip: “Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire.”

The Apostle Paul had that fearlessness. In Ephesians 6:19-20, he writes, “that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.” Paul could have asked for many things, including release from prison and creature comforts. Instead, his heart and mind were focused on his responsibility to be an ambassador of the gospel. He wanted to share the Good News boldly and clearly. Through words and deeds, Paul’s fearlessness and hopefulness were on full display. Throughout his ministry, Paul’s soul was on fire.

Our goal on these mission trips is not to turn the people of Honduras into billionaires. No, we’re striving for something far more ambitious and significant. We’d like to see more Hondurans become self-supporting, productive members of society and, ultimately, Christ followers. That same goal has Dalton and Lori in a lifelong pursuit of what sets their souls on fire. They are fearless dealers in hope. 

We should be too.

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