Help in Times of Trouble (Friday Devotional)

 

The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge;
My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

- Psalm 18:2

It’s hot. Really, really hot. Perhaps you’ve noticed.

Step outside in the morning and, if you’re wearing glasses, they’ll immediately fog up. Go for a midday walk around the block and you’ll sweat like you’ve run a 5K. Dare to spend 15 minutes outside in the middle of the afternoon and you’d better have 911 on speed dial. This heat wave has broken state records, made national headlines, and left us all miserable.

Whenever Texas does this—and it seems to happen every year for at least a week or two—there are few modern blessings we treasure more than air conditioning. Indoor spaces, whether homes or vehicles or public spaces, become fortresses from the elements, sanctuaries from the sun. We don’t just go inside when we need something, we do it to retreat from what’s outside. Air conditioning isn’t a luxury this time of year, it’s a necessity.

That’s the way the psalmist speaks about God in his time of trouble—not as a trusty sidekick or a break-glass-in-case-of-emergency aid, but as his “rock and fortress,” his “shield and the horn of [his] salvation.” For him, hope is inextricable from his faith in God; if he is going to endure and come out of his turmoil intact then it will be God who gets him through.

In our age of self-reliance, it is tempting to see God more like a pool in the fall than air conditioning in the summer—nice to have, a source of comfort when you think about it, but far from necessary. That attitude, however, couldn’t be further from the biblical truth. Scripture teaches that, apart from God, we are condemned, that we are in dire need of a salvation that can only come from him. Far from being a spiritual luxury, a relationship with God is our ultimate necessity.

The psalmist knew where his help came from. So the next time you rush into an air-conditioned space, may that rush of cool air offer you a reminder that his hope is yours as well—when you’re facing the heat, God is mighty to save.

Every Day (Friday Devotional)

Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked or take the path that sinners tread or sit in the seat of scoffers, but their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night.

- Psalm 1:1-2

There are certain important things that, on busy or stressful or frantic days, you might wind up skipping. These are things that, under normal circumstances, you would never neglect, things that you wouldn’t dream of missing for weeks on end. But when life gets crazy, these little things fall by the wayside for a few days.

Making the bed. Drinking water. Exercising. These are just a few of the everyday tasks that, in trying seasons, can become more like occasional chores.

But the reality is, the longer you go without these things, the worse you begin to feel. Leaving your bed unmade for a day or two is no big deal, but if it’s never done, you start to feel like a slob. Rely on coffee and Coke for hydration and you’ll feel jittery instead of nourished. And every time you choose the couch over the gym, you get further and further from the feeling of fitness you’re pursuing. 

Even for the most faithful Christians, spending time with the Lord in prayer and Bible study is often relegated to an occasional task. It’s something you do on Sunday mornings, and maybe in another weekly devotional setting. Perhaps you make a resolution every January to spend 15 minutes a day with God, only to be sidetracked when the new year gets busy.

But the longer you go without personal devotional time, the worse your spiritual life starts to feel. Temptations that had once been tamed suddenly come roaring back. Healthy perspectives you’ve gained start to fade into the background of stress and busyness. Obedience becomes a more and more distant goal.

Personal devotional time—a few minutes spent reading God’s Word and praying—doesn’t have to be formulaic or rote, but it ought to be regular. Instead of regarding it as spiritual extra credit, something you do when you have time, it should instead be understood as an essential assignment. You might skip some tasks, but there are others—brushing your teeth, getting dressed—you wouldn’t leave the house without doing. May time with the Lord not be something you skip, but something you can’t live without.

Cleaning Up the Mess (Friday Devotional)

 

Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.

- 2 Corinthians 13:11

Thanks to my 6-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter, our house is almost never clean for 24 hours straight. Lindsey and I can pick up every toy, dust every piece of furniture, vacuum every floor, and within a few hours we’ll find dirty shoes thrown in the middle of a room, Legos dumped on a floor, and books stacked on a table. If cleanliness truly is next to godliness, then in that respect children are truly diabolical.

Faced with that reality, Lindsey and I have a few ways we can deal with it. One is to complain—to moan and groan about the kids’ irresponsibility, to wonder aloud why we bother tidying up at all, to let off some steam without taking any constructive steps. Another is to take out that frustration on the kids, to needle and dictate and yell until they either clean up their mess or we all collapse in a pool of tears and sweat. Or finally, we can—hopefully with the assistance of the kids—clean up the mess in front of us. Another mess will come, surely—but for now we’ll deal with the one we see.

Life, just like a young family’s house, is inevitably messy. You can wish it were otherwise, you can nostalgically long for simpler days gone by, you can optimistically anticipate an easier future, but for now, it’s just messy. Every day you’re faced with a conundrum without a clear right-and-wrong answer; every day the world seems to get more and more complicated and confusing.

So when life’s messiness becomes a clear and present problem for you, you have to figure out how you’ll respond. You can complain—there’s certainly biblical precedent for lament when the world gets you down. You can lash out at others and play the blame game—this is the most hurtful option and, not coincidentally, the most tempting.

Or, with faithful humility, you can acknowledge two things. One, the world is broken, and I can’t fix it, only Christ can. Two, with the Lord’s help, maybe I can clean up the mess right in front of me. By praying for his will to be done, drawing upon his Word, and leaning on his Spirit, I can be an agent of restoration in a broken world. I can clean up my small share of the mess.

Complaining feels good in the moment, but the mess remains. Blaming feels even better, but often creates a brand new, bigger mess. But by picking up the metaphorical broom and dustpan, by adopting the role of a servant instead of a savior, things get a little better, even if only for a moment. Life will always be messy until Christ returns—but in the meantime, you can bring beauty to the broken places.

Fun with Jesus (Friday Devotional)

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 18:2-3

Earlier this week, I had the honor of serving as an adult leader at Preteen Camp, accompanying 3 other sponsors and 6 of our church’s kids for a week at Mt. Lebanon Baptist Encampment in Cedar Hill. As you might expect, we had all kinds of fun at camp—we ziplined, we swam, we played football in the cabin, and we played hours of Gaga Ball.

We also, of course, ate together, prayed together, participated in Bible studies, and went to two worship services a day. But I actually want to focus on the previous paragraph’s activities for a moment, because they speak to something that’s worth remembering for adults: it’s ok to have fun learning about Jesus!

In the gospels, Jesus took time to tell his disciples that their faith ought to resemble a child’s, that they should actually “become like little children” in order to know him and enter his kingdom. Most directly, he meant they should humble themselves. But there is more to learn from children than just humility, and one of those things is joy.

Kids come to church—and church camp, Vacation Bible School, and all sorts of other children’s ministry activities—with two expectations: that they will have fun and that they will learn about Jesus. Through crafts, games, meals, and other interactive activities, adults show children the love of Jesus and invite them to be themselves—their carefree, fun-loving selves—as they learn.

Just as Jesus promised, we adults have a lot to learn from kids in that respect. When church begins to feel like work, when fellowship and worship and discipleship become more about tasks to be completed than about drawing close to our Savior, then it’s time to look to our humblest, most innocent teachers for perspective. If we will watch them, listen to them, and learn from them, we will be reminded—just as I was this week—that faith is meant to be salvation, not a slog. Our kids have fun with Jesus—we should try doing the same!

May Reading Log

 

This month I tackled a literary giant (pun intended), a manifesto about pastors doing proper theology, a couple breezy books, and a whole lot of good Fantastic Four comics. Take a look and see for yourself!

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- #570-611 and FF #1-23

This month's reading was devoted to the already legendary run by writer Jonathan Hickman, a run seen by many as the best since the days of John Byrne in the 1980s. While not without its flaws, I enjoyed Hickman's years-long arc much more this time around than when I first read it.

While much too far-reaching to succinctly summarize, the gist of Hickman's story is that Reed Richards, in his lofty quest to "solve everything," encounters a council filled with versions of himself from alternate universes, who together are trying to rid the multiverse of all its problems. However, Reed's refusal to abandon his family to join them results in conflicts that ultimately involve not only the FF, but the Kree, the Inhumans, Atlantis, and Doctor Doom. Add onto this Reed's founding of the Future Foundation, a school for gifted youngsters (no, not that school) that serves as equal parts plot device and comic relief depending on the moment, and brings Valeria Richards to the forefront.

The story Hickman tells is complex and wide-ranging, but the payoff at the end really is worth the journey; while Hickman can be accused of plotting himself into corners in other series, he sticks the landing on this one. And while his run uses a number of different artists (Dale Eaglesham and Steve Epting are the standouts), all complement his story well.

My only real criticism of an otherwise excellent run is that Hickman is a writer who prioritizes plot over characterization, which is the opposite of my preference. While super geniuses like Reed, Valeria, Nathaniel Richards, and Doctor Doom all get their moments to shine, team members Sue Storm and the Thing sometimes feel more like ornaments tacked on out of necessity than the main characters they are. If Mark Waid and Mike Weiringo's also-excellent run was cartoony but heartfelt, Hickman's is brilliant but a little cold.

That critique notwithstanding, it was a joy to start every morning with a couple issues from this run. Next month will be...not so great.

THE PASTOR THEOLOGIAN: RESURRECTING AN ANCIENT VISION by Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson

This book is equal parts diagnosis of a problem and call to action. The diagnosis details an unquestionable reality: in modern ecclesial life, pastors and theologians are now considered to be separate occupations. Where for hundreds of years the great theologians, men like Augustine and Luther and Edwards, were also parish ministers, today's prominent theologians all work in the academy. Pastors are now seen as theological middle managers, passing down the words of the professional theologians to the laity.

In light of this, the authors of this book call on pastors to reclaim the title of "pastor theologian," to devote themselves to deep theological study in the midst of their congregational ministry. Theological inquiry, they argue, is a crucial part of the pastor's job, just like administration and counseling and teaching. Instead of ceding theological study to the ivory tower, Hiestand and Wilson call on pastors to bring it back to the steeple.

Here's the problem with the book: there's virtually no instruction on how to make that happen. While the authors offer some individualized advice—get a Ph.D, block off time for study, etc.—they are calling for a cultural shift, and seem to have no systematic path to get there.  While their goal may be admirable, there is little to no plan.

I have great admiration for academic scholars, and I agree that it's important for pastors to maintain a link to that kind of work. But for "pastor theologians" to become the rule instead of the exception, it will take more than this book.

MOBY DICK by Herman Melville

While in an excellent bookstore, Changing Hands in Phoenix, I spotted this beautiful copy of American classic Moby Dick on sale for a pittance. For a few months now, Andrew's latest fascination has been marine life, particularly whales. So I took the confluence of those two things as a sign that there was no time like the present to take on Melville's intimidating Great American Novel.

To my relief, it was pretty accessible, especially in the early going. From the narrator's immortal introduction—"Call me Ishmael"—Melville pulls the reader into the world of 19th century whaling, building anticipation and suspense as you wait for Ishmael to board the Pequod and finally meet the infamous Captain Ahab, whose obsessive pursuit of the titular white whale drives the story.

Once aboard the ship, plot gives way to theme and characterization—after all, there is no true destination for the Pequod; they will sail until they successfully kill the whale who once maimed Ahab. The ship "gams" (sailor talk for "encounters") with nine other ships in total, but these meetings largely serve simply to highlight Ahab's rising obsession rather than move the plot along.

The book slows down considerably in the middle when Melville goes on several extended digressions on everything from whaling equipment to the less-than-scientific 19th century understandings of the differences between whale species. While not as boring as I feared—Melville really is a heck of a writer—these are the kinds of sections that any respectable editor would have whacked. I am violently opposed to abridging classic books, but with that being said, these are the sections I assume most abridged versions cut out...and I get it.

The book ends, as it must, with a final confrontation between the crew of the Pequod, led by Ahab, and the great white whale himself, an encounter which only Ishmael—and perhaps Moby Dick—survive. Ahab's obsession and hubris lead not only him, but his entire crew, to a watery grave, a literary warning that has endured to this day.

All in all, Moby Dick was the kind of classic I'm glad to have read, but one I'm unlikely to revisit much. Its characters and themes have managed to endure in the popular imagination in such a way that, if you read for information rather than pleasure, you can get by with the Cliff Notes. But for those who want to continue educating themselves on literature after your school days are done, know that Moby Dick isn't as scary as you think it is.

BOOKS by Larry McMurtry

Larry McMurtry is best known as the author of books like Lonesome Dove, Terms of Endearment, and The Last Picture Show. But, while writing paid the bills, he always regarded himself first and foremost as a 'bookman,' a buyer and seller of rare books, first in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington, D.C. and ultimately in his hometown of Archer City, Texas. Books is his recollections from a lifetime spent in the business, brief chapters (some as short as half a page) about interesting finds, strange customers, and sales worth reporting.

For a bibliophile, there's plenty to enjoy here, and it's easy to identify with McMurtry's fascination with book collecting. The book is particularly interesting in its early chapters, when McMurtry talks about how few books he had in his childhood, and how a few early gifts set him on the road he would travel.

Unfortunately, by the time his narrative shifts to life in the business, the stories get redundant and a little tiresome, sometimes feeling more like a catalog than prose. McMurtry is easy to read—and the short chapters help immensely with that—but after a while, what should be a joy starts to feel like a slog. This book isn't long by any means at 272 pages, but it could easily have been half that length.

For book lovers (and, since you're knee deep in a reading log, I'm guessing you apply), Books is a perfectly pleasant but inessential account from one of Texas' greatest authors. Read it by all means, but it probably doesn't demand a permanent place in your library.

MY MORNING ROUTINE: HOW SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE START EVERY DAY INSPIRED by Benjamin Spall and Michael Xander

As somebody who wakes up at 4:30 every morning so I can spend 2 hours reading before anyone else is up, I have a deep appreciation for morning routines, and I love hearing about other people's. So when I saw this slim little book, a collection of short interviews with successful people about how they start their days, I checked it out impulsively.

It was interesting to see how much the routines varied. One person woke up as early as 3:00, others didn't rise until after 8:00. Some used the time strictly to get themselves in the right frame of mind, others got right to work. While there were common activities you saw repeated time and again—working out, reading, meditation, etc.—it really did prove true that there's no one right way to start the day.

With that being said, I did wish there had been more variety in the types of people interviewed. Almost without fail, every interviewee was either a creative type (writer, artist, designer, etc.) or a corporate executive. The vast majority lived on one of the two coasts. What I would have given to read an interview by a plumber in Michigan or a cop in Phoenix or a lawyer in San Antonio.

Books like this one are aspirational by nature—the point is to see what the "important" people are doing so we normies can glean some wisdom. But we all have mornings, and most of us have some kind of a routine that guides those mornings. This book would have been better if we had gotten to observe how the little people live too.

Full-Time Family (Friday Devotional)

 

He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved 

- Ephesians 1:5-6

Since Lindsey and I got married, we’ve never had a family pet. We talked about getting a dog early on, but never pulled the trigger, and by the time kids came—not to mention a house with clean floors and furniture—adding an animal to the Camp family was the furthest thing from our minds. We’ve been happy to get by with nothing but humans up to this point.

But lately it’s seemed like life had other plans for us. Without intending to, we seem to have adopted a part-time pet.

We first met this furry friend a few months ago when the kids and I were out playing in the “dig site,” the front flower bed where the kids have all manner of play trucks, shovels, etc. for when they want to play in the dirt. While I was pulling weeds and the kids were digging, a gray cat ran up from the street and joined us in the dig site. Startled at first, we were quickly put at ease by his friendliness—he liked to rub his back against my leg, he didn’t mind the kids petting him, and he never once showed his teeth or threatened to scratch. The kids even gave him a name: Energy Cat, because “he has so much energy!”

Since then, rare is the day we’re out in the front yard for more than 5 minutes without Energy Cat joining us from across the street. We’ve left water out for him on hot days, he’s come into our backyard while I was reading on the patio, and he’s even followed us into the house twice when we left the front door standing open. Without a doubt, he likes being with us.

But with all that being said, he’s not really our cat. We don’t feed him. He doesn’t sleep at our house. We don’t pay his veterinary bills. In fact, if he got sick, we’d probably never even know about it. As much as we enjoy having Energy Cat around, he’s only a part-time member of the family.

There are those in the family of faith that wouldn’t mind that sort of arrangement with God. They come to him with their needs and their sorrows, they attend worship services when it feels important to do so, they write a check or two to support a good cause. But their relationship with the Lord is tertiary to the concerns of family, work, and friends; they’re not especially concerned with discipleship.

What the Bible makes clear is that when you profess faith in Christ as Lord and Savior, you are not simply joining a club or punching a ticket—you are being adopted into the family of God. In God’s family there are no part-time members, no distant cousins twice removed, only brothers and sisters in faith. And a true understanding of that faith, where you know the depths of your own depravity and the heights of God’s grace, means you love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.

Jesus didn’t halfway die on the cross, he paid it all so that we would be saved. So may your life—your whole life—be a living sacrifice to him. May you not be a part-time member of the family, but instead a child of God.