Hello, and happy official start to fall!
Today's newsletter will be more of an update on some things I've been doing. But I've also managed to work in some Scripture, so keep an eye out! ;)
Last week, I participated in an online course called the HB90 Bootcamp. HB90 was developed by a self-published author. It is essentially a way to plan out your schedule 90 days at a time.
Now, I'm leery of anything "productivity" related because I've heard all the tips and hacks. I usually come away from these systems feeling guilty for not getting enough done. But HB90 seemed different. It's not about trying to "do more" but about being realistic with the time and capacity you have. Sometimes that means doing "less," but being more purposeful with your time instead of running from project to project like a headless chicken!
The key to HB90 is choosing 2–3 goals for the upcoming quarter. That doesn't mean you only do 2–3 things, but that everything you work on flows out of those goals. For example, tomorrow I may get an idea for a new video series. It may be an awesome idea, but if it doesn't serve one of those goals, I don't act on it. Instead, it gets put on the "Maybe I'll Do This Next Quarter" list. This "restriction" leads to freedom! (How's that for a biblical analogy?!)
The goals then get divided into projects, which in turn get divided into bite-sized tasks and put onto a Kanban Board. (Or, in my case, a digital Kanban Board, because me and sticky notes don't play nice with each other!) Seeing those tasks move from the "Doing" column to the "Done" column is a momentum builder.
One of the goals I've set for this upcoming quarter is to research and write half of my next devotional book. I am excited to reveal that book #4 in the Nobody Left Out series will be about... the parables of Jesus! Woo-hoo!
This week, I started the research phase by digging into a massive, 800-page book called Stories with Intent. It's a pretty scholarly book, so I can only read it for small portions at a time before I need to take some aspirin. But I want a solid overview of parables as a whole before I choose the individual ones to write about.
The biggest thing I'm learning is that Jesus' parables are not like Aesop's fables. Yes, fables and fairy tales can (and often do) contain elements of truth. But they speak in generalities. Jesus told his parables in the context of his ministry in a first-century world. He had a specific intent for each one. It's important to understand what circumstances prompted Jesus to launch into his tales.
My book will be a 40-day devotional looking at 8 of Jesus' parables. As I approach each parable, this question will guide my writing: What does this story teach us about living out God's kingdom in a messy, broken world?
I hope to start writing in mid-October. My patrons will get access to each devotional as I write it. But I will also post a few here in my newsletter for everyone to read!
Beginning a new project is exciting, but it can also be intimidating. I am already feeling woefully inadequate for the task (or tasks, according to my Kanban Board). And that is where today's Scripture comes in.
When God's people return to Jerusalem from captivity, a man named Zerubbabel is tasked with rebuilding the temple. It is an enormous job. Zerubbabel gets the foundation laid but starts to lose zest for the project. That's when God speaks these words through the prophet Zechariah:
Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in Zerubbabel's hand. (Zechariah 4:10, NLT)
A plumb line was a tool that builders used, similar to a level. And God rejoiced that it was in Zerubbabel's hand, even though the work was nowhere near completed.
I imagine God saying to me, "I rejoice to see the work begin, to see that 800-page hefty commentary in your hand."
What is it for you?
What is that in your hand that signifies an endless road of work ahead of you?
Is it a pen and a blank sheet of paper? Is it a new box of fresh diapers you've just opened? Or those expense reports your boss threw on your desk and said, "I need these done by 5!"
Maybe it's job or college applications, a busy weekend ahead, or a long line of sticky notes on a Kanban Board. Or maybe it's a literal plumb line because you have a building project to tackle.
Whatever it is in your hand, if it honors God in some way (and I trust it does more than you probably think it does), then God rejoices over it!
A Roadmap Back Home
In Jesus' parable of the Prodigal Son, the younger brother packs up his bags and leaves his father far behind. He has grown up in his father's house, a place of love and care. But now, he wants to know what lies beyond his father's doors. Surely there is a life of adventure he is missing out on.
Back home, the father has trouble sleeping. One night, he crawls out of bed and goes outside. A cool breeze blows by as he looks up at the star-filled sky. Too many to count. But many years ago, on nights like this one, he and his son would try. Hand in hand, they would laugh and count up to a bajillion, pointing at each star.
The father sighs as he thinks back. "I myself taught my son how to walk, leading him along by the hand," he says. "But he doesn't know or even care that it was I who took care of him."
The father begins to pace back and forth. Why does he waste so much time thinking about his son when his son has no regard for him? Why should he even care?
The father can hear the town chattering behind his back. He knows they think he is weak for continuing to lament his son's departure. He should listen to them and just disown his son already!
But then the father stops pacing and drops to his knees. Looking up at the stars, he cries, "Oh, how can I give you up, my son? How can I let you go? My heart is torn within me, and my compassion overflows."
Okay... So, the father doesn't actually say any of these words in Jesus' parable. But, interestingly enough, a father does say these words in the Old Testament.
In the book of Hosea, God portrays himself as an abandoned spouse. He wants to convey this message so much that he tells the prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute. When she becomes unfaithful, God tells Hosea to redeem her and bring her back into the safety of his house. This is how much God loves Israel, and the imagery of God as a rejected lover is what the book of Hosea is known for.
But towards the end of the book, the metaphor shifts. God becomes a father who has been abandoned by a son:
When Israel was a child, I loved him,
and I called my son out of Egypt.
But the more I called to him,
the farther he moved from me,
offering sacrifices to the images of Baal
and burning incense to idols.
I myself taught Israel how to walk,
leading him along by the hand. (Hosea 11:1-3, NLT)
As I read these words, I couldn't help but think of the Prodigal Son story that Jesus would tell centuries later. A son moves away from his father to chase after the lifeless idols he thinks will bring him life.
And a heartbroken father. Heartbroken, yes—but not hopeless. Because just when you think he's ready to give up on his child, he continues to keep watch for him.
When my friend Marco and I wrote The Prodigal Musical (a musical based on, you guessed it, the parable of the Prodigal Son!), we wrote a song for the father called "All That I Want." In one of the verses, he sang:
Long ago, my child chose to leave me
Still every day I keep watch on the road
Hoping he comes home and praying he knows
My forgiveness is here
This is the same ache we see in God in Hosea. He longs for his people to return to him. He cries out:
Oh, how can I give you up, Israel?
How can I let you go? (Hosea 11:8, NLT)
God is the father who can't give up on us, even when it makes no sense. He is always keeping watch on the road, ready to run like crazy to meet his children when they come home. And it's not simply a "New Testament" thing. It's always been true.
It was true in Jesus' day. It was true in Hosea's day. And it was true in Adam & Eve's day when God lovingly provided them with clothes to cover their shame. As J. Ellsworth Kalas says in his book The Grand Sweep:
The biblical descriptions of God's relationship to our human race are always at personal, relational levels: lovers, friends, parent-child, husband-wife. At the core of our universe, the Scriptures remind us, is not an impersonal computer but a heart—God's heart of love.
It might be a silly exercise, but go ahead and put your name in the blank:
Oh, how can I give you up, _____________?
How can I let you go?
That is not simply a feel-good piece of news for a Friday. It's a roadmap back home when you find yourself covered in pig slop and don't know the way.
—
P.S. I want to thank everyone who joined my Patreon! 32 people have joined the Messy, Messier, and Messiest Clubs this past week. I am truly humbled by your generosity. We are already building a fun little community over there. If you'd like to join, you can do so here!
What I Did (Or Will Do...) On My Summer Vacation (2nd Annual Edition!)
Last June, I wrote a post outlining a few things I wanted to accomplish over the summer. Looking back on it, I could see that it was a good exercise for me, and I was able to get most of it done. So I decided to do a sequel this year!
I spent most of last fall writing my third devotional book, Waves of Grace. And I spent the spring getting it ready for publication. Later this year, I hope to start work on my next devotional. (More details on that to come!) But summer seems like a great time to take a break from (consistent) writing and tackle some other projects. So here's how I'm spending these summer days:
Putting My Audiobook on YouTube
One of the things I worked on last summer was producing the audiobook of Nobody Left Out: Jesus Meets the Messes. I was delighted by how it turned out. But despite the growing popularity of audiobooks, I haven't gotten much traction on it. Of all the formats this book is available in (print, digital, audio), over 90% of the sales come from the paperback. And I think it makes sense for this genre—devotionals are a type of book that people prefer to have in their hands.
Since I don't get many audiobook sales, I've decided to put it up on YouTube for free! I've been uploading one chapter a day for the past couple of weeks. At this rate, all 40 days should be up by the end of July. You can check out this playlist if you'd like to listen along.
And please share the playlist with anyone you'd like! I hope that having the entire audiobook on YouTube will help the channel grow.
Producing a "Bible Tips for Messy People" Video Series
My sister is helping me record a series of ten 2-minute (ish) videos giving some tips on how to engage with the Bible. If you've seen any of my other videos, you are going to see a higher quality in production values, all due to her wizardry. :) I will be using these videos as content for Facebook ads, and they'll be available on YouTube as well. I'll also be putting the content in written form and sharing that soon!
Going "Wide" with Waves of Grace
The third thing I hope to do this summer is make Waves of Grace available outside of Amazon. (This is known as "Going Wide" in the cool world of self-publishing!)
I don't want to go too far down the nerdy rabbit hole, but when I published this most recent book, I did so under my own ISBN rather than the one Amazon assigns. (ISBN stands for International Standard Book Number. It's that 13-digit number you see on barcodes of books. I fear we are too far down the rabbit hole now!) Having my own ISBN allows me to publish the book with other online retailers like Barnes & Nobles, Target, etc. It also opens the door to the book being available in physical bookstores! Remember those??? (Of course, there's no guarantee a bookstore will stock a particular book, but it makes it a possibility.)
Going wide with a book isn't hard, but there is a learning curve. I haven't made the time to sit down and dig into the process, so I hope to do that over the next month.
And that's about it for summer plans! (Other than getting into the pool with Emmett as much as possible. I'll tell you—that kid is the next Michael Phelps!)
What about you? What are you working on this summer?
Let me know!
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
Is the Glass Half Full or Half Empty?
Whenever I skip a week (or two...) of publishing my newsletter, it's usually because I think I don't have anything to say. And that can be a good thing. Even a fool is considered wise if they stay silent, I believe the proverb goes.
Other times, I do have a thought rattling in my head, but I just don't think it's developed enough to warrant a whole email about it. Well, today I'm going to go for it! Here is a brief thought I had this week:
Don't celebrate instead of mourning. Find the celebration by going through the mourning.
Logically, it seems like celebrating and mourning are opposites. But what if they are somehow connected? What if we don't have to see the glass as half full OR half empty? What if we don't have to be defined as an optimist OR a pessimist? What if there is room for both?
When the Jews returned to Jerusalem from exile, they rebuilt the city walls and gates. Then the priest Ezra read from the Book of the Law, and the people wept. I think they wept because they knew how far they had strayed from God. They were reminded of their brokenness.
But then Ezra and Nehemiah tell the people to stop weeping and celebrate.
Then Nehemiah the governor, Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who were interpreting for the people said to them, "Don't mourn or weep on such a day as this! For today is a sacred day before the Lord your God." For the people had all been weeping as they listened to the words of the Law.
And Nehemiah continued, "Go and celebrate with a feast of rich foods and sweet drinks, and share gifts of food with people who have nothing prepared. This is a sacred day before our Lord. Don't be dejected and sad, for the joy of the Lord is your strength!" (Nehemiah 8:9-10, NLT)
Yes, the people were told to stop weeping and to celebrate instead. But here's the thing: Maybe the people could only get to a place of celebration because they had first wept. Maybe the weeping made the drinks sweeter and the foods richer. If the people hadn't wept, Nehemiah could not have told them to stop weeping and celebrate. (And in the next chapter, the people do have a time of mourning as they reflect on their collective history.)
We can't celebrate the grace of God until we have wept over our brokenness.
Maybe happy tears can only flow out of sad tears.
It reminds me of a line from a song in The Addams Family musical (yes, they made a musical of that):
Life is full of contradictions
Every inch a mile
And the moment we start weeping
That's when we should smile
Don't celebrate instead of mourning. Find the celebration by going through the mourning. Because God is close to the brokenhearted.
That's my thought for this week, and I'm still unsure what I think about it!
What do you think?
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
Bringing Heaven to Earth
A couple of Sundays ago, I had the privilege of preaching a sermon at my church (you can listen to it here). We were in a series on the book of Colossians, and my sermon was about how to live as mature Christians. I talked about how many things in life can distract us from living as mature Christians. But there is one distraction that might not be so obvious: The destination of heaven.
When we see how messed up this world is, it's tempting to want to say things like, "This world is not my home" or "I'm just passing through." And after seeing multiple shootings over the past two weeks, I'm tempted to lean into these phrases right now. Throw me a life preserver, God, and get me off of this sinking ship of a world.
But the vision of the New Testament is not that we would wait around to get scooped up and taken to heaven. Instead, the vision of the New Testament is that God is bringing his beautiful kingdom down to earth. And while that won't fully be completed until Jesus returns, we can begin the process now. (Or, more accurately, continue the process Jesus began when he rose from the grave on Easter Sunday.)
But how do we do that?
Well, Paul says we do it by putting on "the new self":
Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Colossians 3:12-14, NIV)
This is what it looks like to be heavenly-minded in the here and now. And it looks a lot like Jesus.
Yesterday, I came upon a Twitter conversation about Tuesday's school shooting in Texas. One person said, "It shouldn't be this way. It doesn't have to be this way."
To which someone else responded, "Total depravity says differently."
Now, I most certainly believe in total depravity. I write about messy, broken people, after all! But this is an area where we need to embrace some tension.
Total depravity is not a reason to throw our hands up and say, "Nothing can be done; this is just the way it is!"
If that were the case, Paul wouldn't have told us to clothe ourselves with the new self. He would have said, "Yeah, this world is terrible. Do your best to sit tight until Jesus gets back."
The way we treat people in the here and now matters. The way we respond to tragedies, pain, and hurt matters. We will never respond to brokenness as perfectly as Jesus did because we are all broken. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. God can still use broken vessels to do good works.
There is a song in the musical Godspell called "Beautiful City." And this is my favorite verse in the song:
When your trust is all but shattered
When your faith is all but killed
You can give up bitter and battered
Or you can slowly start to build
There are times—like this week—when the brokenness of the world is so palpable. We have no more tears. We just want God to take us away to a better world. And that is a good and right longing to have. But Jesus has called his church to begin the work of making our city (or town, suburb, school, village, ranch, neighborhood, kitchen table, etc.) a beautiful place that reflects his goodness. Time after time in the Bible, we see that prayers lead to action. People pray and then act on who they believe God to be. But we can't even begin the process until we clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.
We need compassion and kindness as we interact with brokenhearted people.
We need the humility and gentleness to realize we don't have all the answers.
We need patience as we seek to work with others to find solutions.
And, as Paul says, the final piece of the outfit is love, which binds all the other pieces together.
And I know—this is all easier said than done. As I type these words, I feel like a fraud because I fail at this way too often. I can't do this on my own strength. The only way we have any hope of doing this is with Jesus.
I ended my sermon by quoting a famous line from the book The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe. When Susan, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy arrive in Narnia, they are trapped in eternal winter. Things look bleak under the reign of the White Witch. There is no hope to be found. But then Mr. Beaver says, "Aslan is on the move."
Sometimes it's hard to see any hope here on earth.
But Jesus is on the move.
And we get to join him in the work of bringing his beautiful kingdom here.
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
God's Kingdom in a High School Theater
A couple of weeks ago, I attended a local high school production of The Music Man. My friend's daughter was playing the lead role of Marian, and she—and the entire cast—did a fantastic job. And after the show, something happened that I can't stop thinking about. But first, let me back up a bit...
As I walked into the lobby of the theater, I looked to my right and saw a picture of a young man framed on the wall. When I took my seat and opened the show program, I learned he was a former student (and chorus member) named Tyler. He died in a tragic car accident in 1998. After he passed away, the school decided to honor him by dedicating the annual musical to his memory. The production I was about to watch was the 23rd anniversary of this tradition.
Tyler's story gripped me, partly because we were born the same year, and the high school I attended is only a few miles away from this one. I wonder if Tyler and I liked the same music or TV shows. I wonder if we would have been friends had we gone to the same school. It made me sad to think of my peer dying way too soon and so tragically. I thought it was wonderful that the school honored him in this way. But I wasn't expecting what came next.
After the final bows, two students from the cast took center stage and shared Tyler's story. Each year, the proceeds from the musical go toward college scholarships for seniors. The two students asked past recipients of the scholarship to stand. A few people in the audience stood as we applauded.
And then (and this is where it took everything in me not to break down and start sobbing loudly)—the cast sang one last song. It was an original song they sing every year, written for Tyler by a Broadway composer. It's titled "There Is Only One You."
Here is what I kept thinking (and what moved me the most about the whole experience): The kids on this stage weren't even born when Tyler died. And yet, they were now connected to his story.
After a tragic event, it can be easy to want to forget about it and "move on." The painful memories are too much to bear. We've all been there. But this high school decided to lean into the pain. Rather than try to forget Tyler's tragic death, they used the pain as a catalyst for good works. This couldn't have been easy, especially in those first few years when the wounds were still fresh.
I experienced a taste of God's kingdom inside that high school theater.
When Jesus blew the doors off death on Easter Sunday, it was the beginning of establishing his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. It's a kingdom that doesn't ignore sadness or pain but redeems it. It's a kingdom that acknowledges the brokenness of the world and then begins working to set things right. And no, that vision will never be fully realized until Jesus comes back. But in the meantime, we get to take part in his life-giving work here and now. Sometimes that looks like high schoolers singing a song to honor a life cut short way too soon.
As I watched these students sing Tyler's tribute song, I could see how much it meant to them. Some of them were crying. You got the sense that somehow, in some unexplainable way, they knew Tyler personally. It was as if they were staring Death square in the face and saying, "Yes, I see you. I see your destruction. I feel the hurt and the pain you cause. And yet, I also see the hope in the midst of it."
As I held back my own tears, I thought of my 1-year-old son, Emmett. 13 years from now, he'll be attending this same high school (assuming we don't move!). I thought to myself, Maybe he'll be up on that stage one day, singing that song, honoring Tyler's memory.
Maybe he—and our entire family—will become part of Tyler's story, a story full of profound sadness and pain.
But also one that flickers with hope.
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
God's Heartfelt Tenth Commandment
If you ask people their opinion of the 10 Commandments, you're likely to get a variety of answers. Some would call them a list of good ideas, but about half are outdated. Some would say obeying them is how we earn God's favor. (Okay, they might not actually use those words, but that is their broad conclusion.) And some would just roll their eyes at the whole thing.
No matter where we fall on that spectrum, it's easy to view the 10 Commandments as a cold list of dos and don'ts. The word "commandment" doesn't exactly conjure up warm, fuzzy feelings, does it? But when viewed in this impersonal way, we miss God's heart in them.
God handed down the 10 Commandments (perhaps better translated as "Words," according to some scholars) after he brought the Israelites out of slavery. The Israelites were the centerpiece of God's rescue plan for the whole world—a plan that began when God called Abraham to pack up and follow him. The project was always for Abraham's descendants to be a blessing to all nations. And as part of that plan, they needed to reflect God's heart to the world. The 10 Commandments give us a glimpse into that heart.
It's easy to imagine God making up the 10 Commandments on a whim one day. Moses goes up to Mt. Sinai and says, "What should I tell the people today?"
"Well, I was up all night coming up with a list of 10 things for y'all to do," God replies. "I think it'd be pretty fun to watch you guys try to keep them all. Good luck!"
But the essence of the 10 Commandments was always part of who God is. They show us how to be at peace with God, others, and ourselves. In Genesis, long before the commandments were spelled out, we see heartbreaking things happen when people violate their concepts. And not because God "punished" them, but because there are real-life consequences to breaking that peace. When we look at the commandments through the lens of God's heart, a lifeless list becomes a beautiful way of living. And for me, this beauty shines through most in the final commandment.
The 10th commandment comes after a list of four big "don'ts": Do not murder, commit adultery, steal, or testify falsely against your neighbor. Even today, we have laws around at least two of those things. And we know that all these actions hurt other people in some way. (Yes, we can rationalize away their impact. But the very act of minimizing shows there is a consequence to minimize!)
But then you get to the 10th commandment, and it almost seems out of place in this behavior-based list:
You must not covet your neighbor's house. You must not covet your neighbor's wife, male or female servant, ox or donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor." (Exodus 20:17, NLT)
The Message version puts it this way: Don't set your heart on anything that is your neighbor's.
But why? If I want something that someone else has, who am I hurting? That person won't even know about my secret jealousy!
You could make the argument that it's a guardrail. If I don't covet anything, I'm less likely to break those four previous commandments, right? Yes. That's true. But I think it goes deeper (and is more beautiful) than that.
God doesn't want us to just "get along" with each other and try not to break anything, as if we're siblings left alone with a newbie babysitter. He wants us to love each other and live together in a thriving community. That's God's heart for his children.
When I want something someone else has—whether it's their stuff, their success, or their book sale numbers (Ouch! That one hurt, Michael!)—I break the peace I have with them. (I also break the peace I have with God and myself.) If I am jealous of someone's success, I will have a hard time celebrating with them. There will always be something between us, even if I never do anything to actively hurt them.
This is why when Jesus came, he was able to summarize all God's commandments into one "new" command: "Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other." (John 13:34) This is God's heart behind the commandments. It reveals what he's all about.
But how do we "not covet"? Behavior-based commands are easier to follow because we know where the line is. We can walk right up to it but not cross it. But this commandment forces us to look inside of ourselves. We all have desires, and most of them are probably good things. But how do we keep them from controlling us?
I think it starts with reframing how we look at the 10th commandment—and all God's commandments, for that matter. Instead of seeing it as one more thing not to do, we need to see God's heart in it.
God loves you too much to see you spending your time wishing you were someone else. He wants to bless the world through you—in the way you love, serve, and encourage others. When you express sincere joy in seeing your neighbors flourish, they get a glimpse of God's heart. In a world that can be cynical and skeptical, joy without strings attached can be a refreshing balm. This is the vision God is inviting us into. And it's so much bigger than obeying a set of rules because we "have to."
And when we get it wrong (and we will) and feel jealousy creep into our hearts, it's okay. Because of Jesus, we are not condemned. We can bring our feelings to Jesus and ask him to help us in those moments. We can't do it on our own, and he knows it.
Maybe it's as simple as saying, "Jesus, I'm feeling jealous about________." I can't change my feelings, but I can give them to you. Please help me. Help me be a neighbor that reflects your heart into this world."
I pray to see God's heart behind every commandment rather than a lifeless set of arbitrary rules.
—
P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
The Weight of Discouragement
I am reading through the entire Bible this year. (I'm using J. Ellsworth Kalas's wonderful book The Grand Sweep as a guide. It's my second time using this resource, and I highly recommend it. It's like having a friend by your side to chat with you about the Bible!)
What amazes me about the Bible is how you can read these familiar stories over and over again and get something new out of it each time. When I get to Exodus, I know Moses is going to have an argument with God. God wants him to go back to Egypt to confront Pharaoh, and Moses tries to worm his way out of the gig. Moses seems afraid. But as I read it this time, I had a thought: Maybe Moses's enemy wasn't fear but discouragement.
God had heard the cry of his people. Pharoah was brutalizing the Israelites, and the time had come to set them free. But Moses had also heard this cry decades before. In Exodus 2, Moses witnesses an Egyptian beating a Hebrew. This made Moses furious. And so "after looking in all directions to make sure no one was watching, Moses killed the Egyptian and hid the body in the sand" (v. 12).
Moses wanted to free his people and took action. But this action had disastrous consequences. He was forced to flee from Egypt and become a fugitive. He settled down in Midian and became a shepherd. As the years went by, Egypt must have felt like a dream to him.
Then one day, God appears to Moses and tells him to go back to Egypt and free his people. And this man who once had the fire in him to kill a man was now weak and timid. "Who am I to appear before Pharaoh?" he argues. "Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?"
I think Moses had let years of discouragement and guilt beat him down. He had already tried to help his people. Why should he try again?
Discouragement can feel like a 1,000-pound weight around our neck. We carry around our failures with us. It can be especially crushing when we were genuinely trying to do something good, but it blew up in our face. We acted without thinking and ended up hurting people. When Moses killed the Egyptian guard, he was called out by one of his fellow Hebrews. His bad decision left him isolated from his Egyptian family and Hebrew family. It makes sense why he wouldn't want to go back to Egypt.
But there is a crucial difference this time. All those years ago, Moses tried to act alone. He had a passion for seeing his people set free, but his quick-tempered decision made things worse. I'm sure he was haunted by the memory every day of his life. Now God was calling him to go back to where the failure first happened. God wanted to harness Moses's passion, but it would need to be done in God's way. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be quick.
Discouragement has a way of zapping your energy. When I feel discouraged, I don't want to do anything. Taking the next step seems impossible.
Discouragement can also take hope out of our sails. When Moses returns to Egypt, he tells the Israelites everything God planned to do. But they wouldn't listen because "they had become too discouraged by the brutality of their slavery" (6:7). Moses' words of hope were like salt in their wounds. They couldn't bear to hope because they had been disappointed too many times.
What are you discouraged about? What have you failed at that you don't want to try again because the disappointment was too crushing?
Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying every failure is a result of us acting rashly as Moses did. Sometimes we do everything we can to follow God and still "fail." I'm using quotes because we probably view success and failure differently than God. Our failures might be considered successes if they help us learn more about God and ourselves.
But what I am saying is, like Moses, God may call us to do something that we already made a mess of the first time around. It doesn't make sense why he would ask us to do it now.
But time gives us a new perspective. God was working on Moses all those years in Midian before ever appearing to him in the burning bush. When he was younger, Moses had the strength to kill a man. But he didn't have the strength to lead his people to freedom. Now that he was older and weaker, God was ready to use him.
Is God asking you to do something, but you already feel like you've "been there, done that"?
It could be trying to reconcile a relationship that always seems to end with conflict.
It could be giving volunteering at church a second try even though the first time didn't end so well.
It could be quitting a habit you've tried to quit a thousand times before. Or making a second appointment with the counselor even though the first session was painful.
Discouragement can be debilitating. I know it is for me. It may take some coaxing from God to get us to see past it. That's okay. God is patient. He even gave Moses a sidekick with Aaron to help him through it!
We never know what God might be planning to do through us until we give it a shot.
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P.S. If you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a sweet tea to keep me caffeinated and it would be much appreciated.
A Better Hope
Every now and then, I come across a Bible verse that stops me in my tracks and makes me smile. I think, Man, I wish more people knew this verse existed!
I've been reading the book of Hebrews this week, and I stumbled upon one of these verses:
The former regulation is set aside because it was weak and useless (for the law made nothing perfect), and a better hope is introduced, by which we draw near to God. (Hebrews 7:18-19, NIV)
We don't know who wrote the letter of Hebrews, but it does a great job of connecting the Old Testament to Jesus. Personally, I like to think it was a collaboration between Peter, Paul, and James, kind of like how members of different bands get together to form supergroups. (Yes, I just compared Hebrews to the Traveling Wilburys...)
In chapter 7, our mystery writer talks about the inadequacies of priests making sacrifices for sin, which was the OG (or O.T.) way of doing things. It's not that it was a "bad" system (it worked for that period of time), but it was incomplete. It was a never-ending hamster wheel of sin, sacrifice, sin, sacrifice, etc. And it did nothing to address the root cause of our messiness.
I love the line, "the law made nothing perfect." We all know this is true. The law (not just God's law, but any law—even our own personal law to wake up at 6 am and exercise for an hour) may help to guide our behavior. But it doesn't give us life.
The law makes nothing perfect, and so it always leaves more for us to do. The problem is, we can always be a little bit kinder, a little bit gentler, and a little bit patient-ER. :) There's always one more thing we can check off our to-do list.
And when we feel that pressure, we start trying to figure out what the minimum requirement is to be perfect. Imagine if I woke up every day and told my wife, "Alright now, please just tell me, what's the minimum I have to do today to love you???" (Jesus was asked this very question once.) Love becomes a burden because the law is a burden.
But there is a better hope! A few verses later, the writer talks about how Jesus is our true priest. We can finally get off the never-ending wheel of trying to be good enough.
Because of this oath, Jesus is the one who guarantees this better covenant with God... Therefore he is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf. (Hebrews 7:22,25, NLT)
When our hope is in Jesus, we can lean on his love to draw us close to God rather than trying to earn God's love. And we can allow that love to spill over to all the people in our lives. We are no longer burdened by the law, but free to love.
And that is something to smile about!
Questions to Ponder:
In what way has the law (any kind of law, even the rules you create for yourself) put pressure on you to be perfect? Have you ever been frustrated that you weren't a little bit __________-ER?
How is leaning into Jesus' love a better hope than trying to rely on yourself?
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I’m an Expert at Judging Others
Did you know that I'm an expert at judging Olympic-level gymnastics?
I didn't either until I started watching it yesterday afternoon. Then I started saying things like, "That landing could've been better," and "He didn't keep his wrists straight." (I copied that one off the commentator. I didn't even know that was a thing.)
I can't tell you the proper name of the bar they are swinging on, but clearly, I'm qualified to criticize the athletes. After all, I've been watching it for a whole two hours! As the judges' tallies came in, I found myself nodding in agreement with the scores.
"Yep. He totally deserves a half-point taken off for that!" (Never mind that I don't even know what qualifies as a good score. Apparently, it's anything over a 14??? At least in the preliminary rounds...)
It's fun to judge something I know absolutely nothing about.
But maybe I should leave the judging up to the judges.
I don't want to belabor the point, but maybe that lesson has applications outside the realm of Olympic-level gymnastics.
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