Unseen Growth (Friday Devotional)

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

- Hebrews 11:1

On our front porch sit three potted plants which I have been tasked with keeping alive. Every morning I spend about 10 minutes walking back and forth from the side porch’s water spigot to the pots, dutifully pouring 2 pitchers of water over each plant. By the time I’m finished, the water has seeped deep into the soil and begun to trickle out of the bottom of the pots, leaving three decent-sized puddles. Those three wet spots offer daily proof that I’ve done my job.

Except, especially in these days of triple-digit heat, that proof doesn’t last long. Sometimes within an hour, all that water has already evaporated, leaving a bone-dry porch and no evidence I’ve done a thing. The only confirmation are the plants themselves—alive, flowering, flourishing.

Sharing the gospel can be a lot like that—you do the work, but you don’t see much in the way of immediate results. You tell somebody about Jesus, but they don’t make a decision for Christ and get baptized. You serve faithfully out of a sincere heart, but nobody appears to notice. You’re the best witness you can be to the grace and truth of Jesus, but it all seems to fall on deaf ears.

Yet even when you can’t see the progress, the Bible promises that faithfulness is never in vain. Sometimes God works in the dark, using your supposedly meaningless ministry to accomplish something great. It may take time—and you may never see the fruit of your labor—but the Lord can take the seed you planted long ago and bring about something beautiful.

It’s frustrating to toil away and never see the results. But that’s the essence of faith—it’s the conviction of things not seen; it doesn’t depend on visible evidence. Keep up the good work—and where you provide the water, God will provide the growth.

Stop Stacking (Friday Devotional)

“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

- Matthew 11:28-30

Waiting at a restaurant one day, our son (not quite a year old at the time) was getting impatient, and we needed some kind of distraction. Working with what little we had available, Lindsey grabbed the nearby container of individual whipped butter packets and they started stacking them on top of each other, one by one. Two became four became eight and, pretty soon, they had built a good-sized tower of butter packets. But, as you’d expect, the higher the tower got, the wobblier it became. It didn’t take long before they stacked one packet too many, and the whole thing came crashing down.

Life can feel like that sometimes—you stack one responsibility on top of another and another and another until you start to feel pretty wobbly yourself. Between your obligations to your job, your family, your friends, and any number of other spheres of life, it can feel like you’re going to collapse at any second.

So understandably, people sometimes look to God warily, convinced that his aim is to add more to their plate. Surely this cosmic Judge, with all his rules and demands, will make their lives even harder, even more burdensome.

But when you read God’s Word, you discover something incredible: God sent his Son to ease our load, not add to it. By taking on his yoke instead of the world’s, by relying on God’s grace instead of our own capabilities, we find peace and rest. When you trade in your way for his, surrendering pride for discipleship, you find strength you never had before—because it doesn’t come from you, but from him.

If you spend your life stacking your burdens on top of each other, all you will find is increasing stress and instability the higher you build—and a constant threat of collapse. Better then to start with a new, stronger foundation and a better, wiser builder. For when we are weak, he is strong.

Allergic to Fame (Friday Devotional)

 

Thus says the Lord: Do not let the wise boast in their wisdom; do not let the mighty boast in their might; do not let the wealthy boast in their wealth; but let those who boast boast in this, that they understand and know me, that I am the Lord; I act with steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth, for in these things I delight, says the Lord.

- Jeremiah 9:23-24

In 1992, you’d have been hard-pressed to find a bigger star than Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain. The release of his band’s album Nevermind had, suddenly and with little warning, ushered in a sea change in popular music and made him a household name. Not only was Cobain’s music at the top of the charts, but the singer’s looks, style, and personal life were a daily source of fascination for tabloids, entertainment media, and fans alike.

He hated it. By all public and private accounts, Cobain’s newfound fame was both an irritation and a burden, and the media’s insistence on declaring him “the voice of a generation” was bewildering. Cobain has always harbored ambitions of becoming a rock star, but the core of that dream had been for his musical talent to be recognized—the celebrity that came with it was abhorrent to him. He wanted people to listen to his music, but he wasn’t all that interested in being famous.

No one familiar with the late rock star would call Kurt Cobain an example for believers to follow, but there’s something to learn from his allergy to personal fame. In both the Old and New Testaments, servants of God declared that any ability they had came from God, that he was the source and the reason for any good they accomplished. They were uninterested in the spotlight, always pointing it to the God they worshipped. I will boast in the Lord, they declared, not in myself.

In our age of social media and personal brands, that kind of attitude can feel foreign to us. But for believers, there is wisdom in remembering that the spotlight should always be on the Lord, not on us. We are called to be servants, not stars, humbly proclaiming the gospel: that Jesus saves, and we are but sinners saved by his grace.

Rick Warren memorably began his bestselling book The Purpose Driven Life by stating, “It’s not about you.” It’s a message we’re still learning 20 years after that book’s publication, 30 years after Kurt Cobain’s stardom, and 2000 years after Paul echoed Jeremiah, saying “I will boast in the Lord.” May you hear it afresh today—may your desire be for everyone to hear the gospel through you, and for all the fame to be the Lord’s.

About Time (Friday Devotional)

 

The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish but all to come to repentance.

- 2 Peter 3:9

Now that my kids are past the stage where we carry them everywhere, they’re responsible for getting themselves loaded up in the car. We shout out, “TIME TO GO!!!” and it’s their job to gather whatever supplies they think they need (snacks, water bottles, books, stuffies), get in their car seats, and buckle up.

Unfortunately that means 9 times out of 10, I spend a lot of time drumming the steering wheel waiting for them. Sometimes it’s because they can’t find their shoes. Sometimes it’s because they forgot their water bottles. And most times, it’s just because they don’t feel the urgency I do and they’re dawdling. So I find myself moving into drill sergeant mode, ‘encouraging’ them to hurry up and get moving.

But there was one day recently when that backfired on me. I was sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for them to get buckled, and I wasn’t shy about my impatience.  I was rushing them, I was scolding them, the whole nine yards. And when they were finally both buckled, I pressed the power button to start the car and…nothing happened. Turns out, I had left the key fob inside. I ran in to retrieve it, slammed the door shut as I climbed back in the driver’s seat, and received my well-deserved medicine from my 6-year-old son: “I guess this time you weren’t ready, huh, Daddy?”

Waiting isn’t easy for anybody, whether it’s for something as minor as getting in the car or something far more important. Since the first century, Christians have been waiting for the fulfillment of Christ’s promise to return for his followers, to usher in a new heaven and a new earth where sin and death are banished forever and all things are made new. With faith and hope, we look forward to that day, trusting in the promise that Christ said it will come “soon.”

But even weeks after Christ’s ascension, “soon” wasn’t coming soon enough for some. And now, almost 2000 years later, many are even more impatient for the Lord’s return, crying out with John the Revelator, “Come quickly, Lord Jesus!” It certainly seems like Jesus is taking his sweet time, like he’s slow to keep his promise.

But Scripture offers us another perspective—the Lord’s delay isn’t meant to hurt us, but to help us. The reason “soon” hasn’t come sooner isn’t because Jesus is slow to keep his promises, but because he wants to give as many people as possible the opportunity to receive his grace. The issue is not a lack of faithfulness on his part, but rather his patience with us.

In other words, while we are yelling at Jesus to hurry it up, we’ve still got unfinished business on our end. So as we wait, may we tend to that business faithfully and patiently—because “soon” will be here before we know it. May we be found ready when it does.

June Book Log

It's beach read season, so I decided to tackle some lighter fare: some comics, a dumb thriller, a baseball book, and a refresher on what it means to be Baptist. Take a look!

Reading Through the Fantastic Four- (4th series) #1-16, FF (2nd series) #1-16

Pity the creative team who has to follow an epic, years-long saga like Jonathan Hickman's Fantastic Four (and FF) run. Do you try to follow the through-line and pick up where they left off? Do you zig where they zagged? Either way, you're almost certain to disappoint.

Matt Fraction drew the short straw and got to be the sacrificial lamb after Hickman's departure, and he opted to go in both directions at once. On the one hand, he retained many of the most distinctive features of Hickman's run—the black-and-white costumes, the kids of the Future Foundation, Reed's quest to "solve everything." However, where Hickman's run was heady and bombastic, Fraction goes for a light-hearted tone, more Saturday morning cartoon than The Iliad. And, predictably, by trying to split the baby, it all falls apart in the end.

Things start promisingly, with Fraction sending the core family (Reed and Sue, Ben, Johnny, and Franklin and Valeria) on a cosmic road trip, while leaving behind a replacement team led by Scott Lang's Ant-Man to watch over the Future Foundation. From this starting point, the book divides into two books, Fantastic Four—which chronicles the Richards' adventures through time and space—and FF, which keeps track of the team back home.

Fantastic Four is a pretty traditional superhero book, illustrated by the reliable-but-past-his-prime Mark Bagley, who can move from humor to gravitas relatively seamlessly. However, the book feels directionless, like it's spinning its tires until the road trip reaches its inevitable conclusion. FF, in contrast, is almost a straight humor book, illustrated by Mike and Laura Allred, whose pop art style makes for great gags but not always ideal narrative storytelling.

It all works until it doesn't; both books start energetically but lose steam when the novelty wears off and the creators visibly get bored with their assignments. The dual runs culminate in a pair of borderline incomprehensible stories where the teams face off against a Doctor Doom-Kang-Annihilus merged superbeing called—and I'm not kidding here—Doom the Annihilating Conqueror. It's messy and dumb and, less than 2 years removed from Hickman, a little embarrassing.

In retrospect, Matt Fraction never stood much of a chance coming after Hickman. You've got to hand it to him for trying, but that doesn't mean you have to pretend he succeeded.

DISTINCTLY BAPTIST: PROCLAIMING IDENTITY IN A NEW GENERATION edited by Brian Brewer

On June 13, the Southern Baptist Convention voted to narrow once again their definition of what it means to be a Southern Baptist by declaring that any local church which calls a woman ''pastor" is not in harmonious cooperation with the SBC and must be removed from is fellowship. The central question, of course, was about women in ministry, but it also brought up further questions about the autonomy of the local church, the priesthood of all believers, ordination, and more. For many, those who agreed with the SBC and those who didn't, this was the first time in a while that they asked, "What does it mean to be a Baptist?"

In Distinctly Baptist, a collection of sermons by professors at George W. Truett Theological Seminary, that question is answered with 14 Baptist distinctives ranging from belief in salvation by grace through faith and the authority of Scripture to a congregational church polity and a commitment to social justice. Relying on history for context and Scripture for explanation (after all, the SBC's recent legalism notwithstanding, Baptists' historic battle cry has been "no creed but the Bible!"), Truett's professors eloquently lay out what has made Baptists unique over our 400+ year history.

The result is not only a primer on Baptist belief, but also an implicit defense of denominationalism in an era when people's choice of church tends to have much more to do with location, worship style, and the size of its youth department. With each sermon, I was reminded that it means something to call yourself a Baptist, that denominational identity is about far more than identity politics or internecine power struggles—Baptists are a freedom loving, Christ exalting, Bible reading, fiercely independent people.

The SBC gets to decide who belongs to their convention, but they don't get to decide who calls themselves a Baptist. That job belongs to the baptized, Spirit-filled believer and his or her church... and if the SBC doesn't like it, that church and that believer will carry on in Jesus' name, guided by their own biblical convictions. What could be more Baptist than that?

INFERNO by Dan Brown

Ok, I'm starting to forget what I liked about Dan Brown books. In theory, the mixture of history, conspiracy, and action offers an Indiana Jones-meets-National Treasure vibe. Robert Langdon, Brown's protagonist, is a charming and intelligent everyman (while the movies were just ok, Tom Hanks was excellent casting for the role.) And Brown, while light years from being a great writer, does manage to end every chapter with a cliffhanger, which is what you want from a beach read.

But man, this one tried my patience. Inferno begins with Langdon waking up in an Italian hospital with a head wound and no memory of what has happened to him <eye roll> and we're off to the races, as Langdon escapes an assassination attempt and learns he's in possession of a map with ties to Dante's Inferno. Naturally.

I'll be honest, I lost track of the plot about 2/3 of the way through—the book didn't exactly have my full attention—but it weaves between Dante trivia, a mysterious organization called the Consortium, and a scheme that threatens to kill millions. And there's a twist at the end where one of Langdon's allies is revealed to have been a villain all along.

If it sounds familiar, it's because we've already done this three times by this point, in Angels & Demons, The Lost Symbol, and, most famously, The Da Vinci Code. All thrillers rely on tropes, but few authors cling to the same formula as shamelessly as Dan Brown, and this deep into the Langdon books, it's getting pretty tiresome. I'll read Origin, the fifth and (for now) final Langdon book, one of these days, but I can't say I'm looking forward to it. Maybe my disappointment is my fault—by now, I guess I should know not to expect originality from this series.

NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE by Bill Simmons

It now feels like a lifetime ago, but Bill Simmons owned sports media in the 2000s. Starting as a blogger called the Boston Sports Guy, in 2001 he was picked up as a national columnist for ESPN: The Magazine and ESPN.com's Page 2, where he continued to write primarily about Boston sports teams. Eventually his star shined so bright that he was given the keys to his own vanity sports site, Grantland.com (may it rest in peace) and was simultaneously put on TV as an NBA studio analyst. In 2015, overworked and fed up with his bosses at ESPN, Simmons left to start his own media empire, The Ringer (basically Grantland without the benefit of ESPN's backing), and as a result he has largely faded into the background ever since.

But in the early 2000s, when the New England Patriots were launching their Brady-Belichick dynasty and the Boston Red Sox were in mortal combat with the hated New York Yankees, millions of fans were going to ESPN.com every day to see what Simmons had to say about his beloved Boston teams. Writing from the perspective of a diehard fan and with the voice of a pop culture-obsessed frat boy, Simmons was a new breed of sportswriter, utterly rejecting the notion that a columnist needed to be an impartial observer. Simmons was not there to inform, but entertain; he was no expert bringing news to the masses, but a member of the masses giving voice to their passions, their superstitions, and their traditions.

Now I Can Die in Peace is a collection of Simmons' notable Red Sox columns dating back to 1999, when Pedro Martinez and Nomar Garciaparra were bringing Boston back to national relevance, up through the Sox's epic 2004 march to a curse-breaking world championship in 2004. In column after column, Simmons traces the rise (1999-2002), disastrous fall (2003) and triumph (2004) of the Sox with his trademark, decidedly un-PC (seriously, these columns would never be published today) humor and passion. Footnotes added with the benefit of hindsight offer context and meta humor about Simmons' observations and predictions, both when he hit the nail on the head and when he was hilariously wrong.

For a sports fan whose formative years happened smack dab in the middle of this run, this book was pure delight. I'm no Red Sox fan, but I hate the Yankees, and I didn't miss a game of the 2003 and 2004 ALCS. Reliving those years through this book was a blast. For any baseball fan, Now I Can Die in Peace offers a running diary of one of the biggest stories in baseball the last 50 years. If you're looking for a book that captures what makes this game so meaningful to so many, this is a fun, irreverent place to turn.