Commencement (Friday Devotional)

For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part, but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see only a reflection, as in a mirror, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.

- 1 Corinthians 13:9-12

It is officially commencement season in America. I spent Wednesday morning watching my daughter graduate from kindergarten, yesterday witnessed my son “cross over” from 3rd grade to 4th, and this Sunday our church will honor high school and university graduates during the worship services. Caps and gowns are being pulled out of closets across the nation. Dr. Seuss’s Oh, The Places You’ll Go! is seeing its sales numbers rocket for the umpteenth May in a row. “Pomp and Circumstance” is playing on a loop in parents’ heads.

Graduation ceremonies themselves are strange things, because almost nobody is fully present during them, fully attentive to the words being spoken or the traditions being passed down. Those on stage are running through their speeches in their minds. The graduates themselves are silently fretting that they will trip on their robe or that a heel will break when they cross the stage. And as for the families in the bleachers, their brains are alternating between the tedium of the moment (how many more minutes? where did we park? boy are these seats uncomfortable!) and a mental film reel of their graduate’s life.

Nevertheless, when the final commencement speaker congratulates the graduates and the hats fly up in the air, everybody understands that a milestone has been reached. Students have crossed the bridge from one stage of life to the next. As the valedictorian inevitably said in his or her speech, “we did it!”

The Bible promises such a moment of achievement for believers as well, when faith becomes sight and we know God fully, even as we are fully known. In that long-awaited moment when “the complete comes,” when Christ returns and makes all things new, we will set aside who we used to be—fallen, frail, but faithful people—for the fullness the Lord died to ensure us. Setting aside “childish ways,” we will step into new life…and the reward will be far greater than a diploma.

As we eagerly anticipate that day, we are called to train for it, even as students learn and are tested in preparation for commencement. While for now we exist in the interim between Christ’s first coming and his second, our salvation secured but not yet seen, we are called to live as citizens of the kingdom of God even as we are residents of this world. Worship today is preparation for heaven. Discipleship today trains us to follow Jesus for eternity. Sacrificial love today anticipates the love that will cover the earth.

Someday we will all cross the stage from here into paradise, graduating from this life into the next. But for now, there is still work to do and preparations to be made. And so, future graduate, keep learning and growing—-your heavenly commencement awaits, and you want to be ready.

Growing Together (Friday Devotional)

So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. 

- Ephesians 4:11-13

Periodically, Facebook will automatically generate a post from the “Memories” section at the top of my feed, ensuring that I see an old post from 2, 5, even 10 years ago. And given that a sizable majority of my posts feature family photos, that means the algorithm is usually reminding me of that unavoidable parental reality: my kids are getting older.

Faces once defined by chubby cheeks have thinned. Newborn and 18 month outfits have been donated or stored in the attic. My babies became toddlers, then became kids. And before I know it, they’ll be teenagers. That, as I often remind Lindsey when she despairs at how big they’re getting, is how time works.

Growth is a part of life—as nice as it might seem to remain in one stage of development, you have to progress to the next. And hopefully with age and its accompanying experiences comes maturity as well, growth that is spiritual, emotional, and intellectual, not just physical.

What is true for a person is true for the church too—a body of believers is intended to grow together in faith, in unity, and in knowledge of the Lord. When you worship, serve, evangelize, pray, and read the Bible with your fellow Christians, you are changed by the experience. As individuals and as one body, you mature in your faith together.

There’s a nostalgia that we all feel about certain stages of development, whether we’re looking at family photos or church directories. But even as we remember the good ol’ days with fondness, we can also rejoice at the ways we have grown. You’re more mature today than you were yesterday—and by the grace of God, you’ll be even better tomorrow.

Biography and Eulogy (Friday Devotional)

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.

- 1 Corinthians 1:26-29

One genre of literature I enjoy reading is biographies. To write these, historians spend months, sometimes years, poring over primary sources and interviewing relevant figures to understand their subjects as fully as possible. Then, over a few hundred pages, they give readers the highlights of people’s lives: the biggest decisions and most important moments that explain who they were and why they matter.

An alternative way to synthesize someone’s life is through a eulogy, usually given at someone’s funeral. In some ways, eulogies are similar to biographies; both seek to sum up a life. But where biographies tend to focus on accomplishments, eulogies are more personal. Rather than pointing to the big moments that a biography would highlight, eulogies are all about little moments—small acts of kindness, meaningful points of connection, small stories that illustrate a larger narrative.

The world encourages you to find your identity in your biography: your achievements, your accolades, your moments in the sun. These, we are assured, are the things you will be remembered for. And maybe that’s true for the presidents, pro athletes, and business titans you find in the library’s Biography section.

But for most of us—those whose only published biographies will be the obituaries our families write—those biographical elements will be secondary. It’s the characteristics highlighted in the eulogy that will stick. Did people know you cared about them? Did you give of yourself to help others? Did you point people to Jesus?

In a world so focused on the biography, maybe Christians can be the ones focused on the eulogy. Following the lead of a Lord who spent most of his earthly ministry pouring into a mere 12 disciples, we could focus less on mass impact and more on the personal touch. Believers can be the ones with the perspective to know what matters in the end: not what you accomplished, but how you lived.

Chances are, none of what you do today will make your biography. But your eulogy is up for grabs—with every interaction you have today, what will you add to it?

Buttered Noodles and Kind Words (Friday Devotional)

Anxiety weighs down the human heart,

    but a good word cheers it up. 

- Proverbs 12:25

A few nights ago, Lindsey had plans with some friends, meaning I was responsible for making dinner for me and the kids. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here—my “cooking” amounted to whipping up some buttered noodles for Katherine and Isaac and a few quesadillas for me and Andrew. Nobody was winning a Michelin star here.

Nevertheless, when Katherine took a bite of her dinner, her eyes lit up. “Daddy!” she exclaimed. “These are SO GOOD! You’re like an expert at buttered noodles!”

At first, my reaction was to brush off the compliment, to look at it as proof of just how low the expectations were for my cooking. But as I watched her happily gobble down her meal, I have to admit: I appreciated the praise. I hadn’t done anything big or special—but it was still nice to be appreciated.

Sometimes we underestimate the value of encouragement. We know to thank people when they do something really momentous. We set aside special occasions—anniversaries, birthdays, etc.—to recognize people for how they contribute to our lives. But in the day to day, the little things just go by without comment.

In the New Testament, we see how important it was for those in the early church to encourage one another. Facing everything from poverty to persecution, a spirit of brotherhood was crucial to maintain their gospel witness. Led by people like Barnabas, the so-called “son of encouragement,” they kept each other going not only with the strength of their conviction, but with consistent kindness.

It may feel silly to praise someone for doing what they always do, or to thank them for something that barely even qualifies as a favor. But don’t lose sight of what a blessing your encouragement can be to them in that moment. For someone you love, even buttered noodles are worthy of a kind word.

Embrace Interruptions (Friday Devotional)

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.

- Matthew 14:13-14

A couple of days ago, my daughter Katherine was the first one to wake up after me, wandering into the living room a few minutes after 6:00 AM. Having already had more than an hour to myself to drink my coffee and read, I was cleaning the coffee maker and sorting a load of laundry when she emerged.

After a minute or two, she asked me from across the room, “Daddy, would you like me to read a book to you?” Focused on my tasks, I initially told her not right now, but maybe some later.

Then a few seconds went by and I caught myself. Katherine, who is finishing up her kindergarten year, is working hard on her reading these days. What’s more, she loves it; she’ll happily spend as long as you’ll let her sounding out each word and making her way through a book.

We weren’t in a rush to get out the door yet. Neither of my tasks was time-sensitive. And my little girl was asking me to let her sit in my lap and practice her reading. So I dropped the laundry on the floor and curled up in the chair with her. Jobs could wait; it was time to read with my daughter.

In an overstimulating world full of distractions, it can feel like a rare thing to be truly focused on something, which makes it all the more frustrating when you’re interrupted. Oftentimes, such interruptions—the ding of a text message, the notification of another email—can and should be set to the side so that you can continue what you’re doing. But every now and then, interruptions are opportunities to differentiate between the urgent and the important.

In Jesus’ ministry, people always wanted something from him: a fresh word from God, a healing, a heavenly sign. Periodically, he would go off by himself to rest and pray. But on one occasion, the crowds would not even give him that moment, following him to his place of solitude.

Jesus could have demanded they respect his boundaries. He could have told them to make an appointment. Those would have been reasonable reactions. But instead, he saw their needs and had compassion on them, allowing love to override self-interest.

You don’t always get to plan your opportunities to serve others. Sometimes those moments come at the most bothersome of times, when you’re busy or exhausted or locked in on what you’re doing. But don’t let inconvenient timing make you lose sight of a chance to show God’s love. Maybe, in Jesus’ name and by the Spirit’s power, you can even do the most countercultural thing of all: for love's sake, embrace interruptions.

One at a Time (Friday Devotional)

Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate your fill of the loaves.”

- John 6:26

At the beginning of the week, our dishwasher bit the dust, and we haven’t gotten around to replacing it quite yet. As a result, I’ve been handwashing the dishes every morning and most evenings.

It’s been something of a blast from the past for me, since the first apartment Lindsey and I ever shared—Section 8 apartments built in the 1950s—didn’t have a dishwasher either. In those days, I actually kind of enjoyed the slow, tedious, methodical process of scrubbing every last plate, fork, and glass. But with three kids now running around our house, I fully expected it to be nothing but an unpleasant chore this time around.

To my surprise, I have once again found myself taking an odd pleasure in the work. Something about starting with a mountain of dishes in the sink and then working my way through it one spoon at a time is satisfying. It’s not as efficient as the electric dishwasher, but going one by one turns a chore into a joy.

It reminds me a little of Jesus’ approach to ministry. Our eyes are often drawn to the work Jesus did for big crowds of people, like when he fed the 5,000 or preached to multitudes. If we were planning Jesus’ ministry, we probably would have put a lot more of those encounters on his agenda—we’d have had him preaching in the Roman Coliseum, not in backwoods towns in Galilee.

Yet more often than not, Jesus' ministry was about individual encounters rather than pleasing crowds. Indeed, sometimes he would send the crowds away at the height of his popularity lest they get the wrong impression about his purpose. Jesus was more interested in one conversation with a widow than speeches to multitudes.

In our “efficiency is everything” culture, it’s worth remembering that the kingdom of God plays by different rules. There is not much earthly glory to be found in slow, intentional, personal ministry—especially compared to the lure of making a big impact that will be recognized by many. But there is more to God’s work than numbers. Don’t underestimate the value of sharing the gospel one person at a time.

He Knows Your Name (Friday Devotional)

But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.

- Isaiah 43:1

Every day when I pick up my kids from school, we all exchange pleasantries with Mr. Bill, the school crossing guard. He’s been manning the intersection at least since Andrew started kindergarten in 2022, holding up his stop sign and wearing his neon vest.

His job, of course, is to ensure the kids’ safety. He steps out into the intersection before they do, signals to oncoming traffic to stop, and then tells the kids they’re free to cross. That’s why he’s there. But beyond that, what has endeared him to us—and everyone else—is that he greets all my kids (even Isaac, not yet a student) by name. Despite only seeing them for a few seconds each day and even though he has hundreds of kids to keep up with, he knows their names.

There’s something about that gesture, that simple act of thoughtfulness, that speaks volumes to people. In a crowded, distracted, busy world, you want to know that you matter enough to somebody for them to know your name.

So what an awe-inspiring thing to know that the God who created the universe not only calls you his, but calls you by name. You are not merely a drop in the ocean of humanity, you are important to him. So important, in fact, that he sent his Son to die on the cross for you.

Coming out of Easter Sunday, when we remember the story of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection, don’t lose sight of what it means at a personal level. God so loved the world, and God so loved you. No matter what the world may tell you, you are not anonymous—for God knows you by name.