Do Your Part (Friday Devotional)

“Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and to which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”

- 1 Timothy 6:12

“You approach two doors. One is hot to the touch and bears an unusual design in the center, a symbol so strange it just might be…alien. The other door appears perfectly ordinary but for one amazing fact…it is not resting on hinges, but rather is somehow mysteriously floating above the floor! WHICH DOOR WILL YOU CHOOSE? To open the first door, turn to page 75. To open the second door, turn to page 98.”

This sort of scenario will be familiar to anyone who has ever picked up one of the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, a children’s series that began in the 1970s and continues to this day. These books upend the traditional reading experience by placing the direction of the plot in the hands of the reader, ending each chapter with a choice like the one above. A veritable fiction buffet, any given book might have a dozen different endings, with wildly divergent paths to get to those endings.

The result is that reading a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book makes for a totally different experience than reading a “normal” book. Accustomed to a passive involvement with the story, where you are simply carried along wherever the author takes you, these books flip the script—in order to keep the story going, you must do your part.

The life of faith, 1 Timothy 6:12 indicates, should embody that sort of involvement—rather than being passively carried along by God, we are called to participation in His work. Paul refers to faith as a “fight”, of eternal life as something we “take hold of”—that sort of active language assumes that with faith comes struggle, that there is more to living for Christ than business as usual. Written by an apostle who was repeatedly beaten and imprisoned for his faith, the words of 1 Timothy 6:12 serve as a reminder that faithfulness is more challenging and more participatory than we sometimes like to think.

We derive great comfort from knowing that in Christ we do not have to go through life alone, that God is with us in every struggle and every work. But as you thank Him for His faithfulness, don’t lose sight of your part of the relationship—God is faithful to you, so may you also be faithful to God, using your spiritual gifts for His kingdom. Don’t just watch the good fight of faith, don’t just sit on your hands waiting for new life in Christ—do your part.

Kiosks and Crosses (Friday Devotional)

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed…Therefore, let those suffering in accordance with God’s will entrust themselves to a faithful Creator, while continuing to do good.”

- 1 Peter 4:12-13, 19

When I am walking through a mall, I stay as far to the right of the walkway as possible. I don’t do it so I can window shop, or because I’m trying to give a wide berth to the other shoppers. I’m just trying to stay as far away from the kiosks as possible.

Whether they’re selling cell phone cases, decorative frames, or designer perfume, the folks manning the kiosks that sit in the middle of the mall have one thing in common: they don’t wait for you to come to them. Instead, if you get inside their invisible perimeter, they address you directly and immediately dive into their sales pitch, forcing you to decide, ‘do I rudely interrupt them and walk away or stand here awkwardly and pretend to listen to their whole spiel?’ It’s an uncomfortable enough situation that my admittedly flawed solution is to just stay as far away from them as possible. I’d rather not have to deal with them, so I just avoid them.

Most people have that exact attitude when it comes to any sort of discomfort, from minor anxiety to serious suffering—whenever possible, avoid it at all costs. If you can avoid future conflicts by threatening or even attacking your enemy, you should do that instead of praying for him. If you can avoid discomfort and insecurity by saving your money, then you should do that instead of giving to those in need. If you can avoid embarrassment by staying quiet instead of sharing the Gospel, you should stay silent instead of speaking up.

But Scripture calls believers to a different approach to suffering. Far from avoiding it, Christians are called to embrace suffering as the inevitable consequence of conforming to Christ instead of the world. While we are not meant to masochistically seek out pain, neither are we to flee from it when obedience to Christ comes at personal cost. The cross of Jesus Christ was an act of intentional surrender to suffering in the name of love, and those who put their faith in that cross are called also to live by its example.

While we are quick to claim the hope of Christ’s resurrection as our own, we are slower to claim the sufferings of his crucifixion. Like the twelve disciples, we imagine ourselves sharing in Jesus’s glory, but have no expectation of that glory coming at a cost. We want to follow Jesus, but when it threatens to become uncomfortable we pull back.

What you must remember is that the way of Jesus is the way of the cross, that true discipleship means obedience to God even when it costs you something. Turning the other cheek means getting slapped twice; forgiving seventy-seven times means living through seventy-seven offenses; giving your time and money and energy to others means leaving yourself only the scraps—but these consequences are not reasons to abandon obedience, they are proof that you are crucified with Christ. So as you seek to follow him, may you do so even when it is difficult, even when it costs you something. For the call of the cross is not to avoid suffering for your sake, but to bear its burden for the sake of others.

Not Sold Separately (Friday Devotional)

“God abides in those who confess that Jesus is the Son of God, and they abide in God. So we have known and believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”

- 1 John 4:15-16

When I go running every morning, the last thing I do before stepping outside my front door is put on my socks and my tennis shoes. I need both—the socks and the shoes—to have a decent run. If I ran with socks and no shoes, I’d return home with wet, ripped up socks and probably with aching feet. If I ran with shoes on but without socks, I’d come back with fresh blisters on my feet. My shoes and my socks aren’t meant to be used separately, but as a package deal—and I won’t get far unless I have both.

God and love are a lot like tennis shoes and socks in that respect—they are meant to be paired with one another, one understood in relation to the other. Nevertheless, both the world and the church fall into the trap of trying to separate the two. On the one hand, the world tries to know love without knowing God, replacing the self-sacrificial, holy, overflowing love of God with a shallow, fleeting, selfish alternative. And on the other hand, the church too often tries to know God without knowing love, proclaiming moral imperatives but refusing to embody the radical grace of the cross, that love which heals the broken and forgives the unforgivable.

1 John 4:15 reminds us that God is love, and that in order to abide in God, you must abide in love. God and love are not meant to be understood apart from one another, but rather in unity. Growing in your relationship with God means better embodying the love of Christ, and one cannot happen without the other.

So as you seek to know God better, to grow in your relationship with Him, be sure you are also seeking to love God and love your neighbor, for it is only through the lens of love that you will get a full picture of who God is. And in the same way, as you seek to love those around you, may the love you extend go beyond the mere affection that the world models, instead exemplifying the deep love that is only truly possible when you know the grace of God. When you step out your front door into the world, do so equipped with both God and with love—you won’t make it far without both.

They Just Go Together (Frday Devotional)

“We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death.”

- 1 John 3:14

A few years ago, Lindsey and I made a pact with one another. We had spent the better part of the morning driving to Arkansas for a family reunion and, having spent the better part of the afternoon there, we were now making the long trek back to Waco. Needless to say, we were tired, hungry, and ready to be home. So when we saw the “Welcome to Texas” sign, it felt like cause for a celebration—we were almost there, already back in familiar territory.

Basking in that minor victory, we wanted to do some uniquely Texan, and another sign in the distance served as a beacon for what that uniquely Texan thing should be—we pulled over and had dinner at Whataburger. And it was there, over patty melts and fries, that we made our pact: any time we crossed state lines, we would celebrate our return back to Texas with a meal at Whataburger. What could be more Texan?

In the days since, those post-road trip dinners have become less a treat than a natural consequence, as much a part of the return home as seeing that “Welcome to Texas” sign. We barely have to think about it anymore—coming back to our home state and stopping for dinner at Whataburger just go together.

That is exactly the kind of unity that faith in Christ and love for one another are supposed to share—they’re meant to “just go together,” love a natural consequence of faith. John 3:14 says that the way you know you have passed from death to life, from faith in the world to faith in Christ, is by the love you have for others. Love is not so much an active choice, something you can embrace or abandon at your convenience, as it is the natural consequence of placing Jesus at the center of your life.

We are prone to separating love of God and love of others, compartmentalizing in such a way that we glorify the perfect and almighty God while disparaging fallible, fallen human beings. God is easy to love, but loving people can sometimes be more challenging, so we pretend that we can love one and not the other.

But Jesus made it clear that there can be no separation between the two when he told us what the greatest commandment is: “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). To love God is to also love the creations who bear His image, even when they seem unlovable. So as you seek to live faithfully, having passed from death into life, may you mark your passage into a life of faith and hope with love—they just go together.

The Celebrity Treatment (Friday Devotional)

“Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

- Hebrews 13:1-2

“Then righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”

- Matthew 25:37-40

Among the many incredible athletes who shined on the world stage at this year’s Olympic Games, my favorite was U.S. swimmer Katie Ledecky. As you likely know, Ledecky was one of this year’s standout American athletes, winning 5 medals total, 4 gold. Her performance in Rio, especially her dominant showing in the 800m freestyle, made her a household name—her face is on magazine covers, she’s made the talk show circuit, and just the other night she threw out the first pitch at a Washington Nationals game while superstar Bryce Harper was relegated to holding her medals for her. Katie Ledecky, in other words, is a big deal.

But coming into the Olympics, most of us didn’t know that yet. Though Ledecky won a gold medal in the 2012 Olympics in London, few Americans probably could have picked her out of a crowd the week before the festivities began in Rio. I say that with a reasonable degree of certainty because of a story that one of the U.S. swimmers tweeted out one week before the Opening Ceremony. Ledecky and her teammates were outside Maracanã Stadium, headed to a practice, when a couple of girls tapped Ledecky on the shoulder and asked if she wouldn’t mind taking a photo. You might assume the girls wanted a picture with Ledecky, photographic proof that they’d met a gold medalist…and if they’d met her 2 weeks and 5 medals later, that probably would have been true. But that wasn’t the case—the girls were asking her to take a picture for the two of them. Gold medalist and superstar-to-be Katie Ledecky, unrecognized by the two tourists, was reduced to playing amateur photographer like she was any other bystander.

It’s funny to imagine how those girls might have acted if they’d tapped Katie Ledecky on the shoulder two weeks later than they did. Maybe they’d have asked for an autograph or a selfie, or perhaps they’d have been too starstruck to say a word. What’s virtually certain is that they wouldn’t have asked her to play photographer for them. There’s a reason for that: we act different around ‘important’ people than we do around ‘normal’ people. To put it in terms of Katie Ledecky’s story, there are some people whom we want to take pictures with us, and other people whom we want to take pictures for us.

Scripture cautions against that worldly attitude, one that elevates certain people based on their status while relegating others to a lower position. In fact, the verses above instruct you to bestow an incredible status onto those you might otherwise ignore—when faced with the impoverished woman or the imprisoned man, you are supposed to see Jesus staring back at you. When the opportunity to serve someone presents itself, you are called to show the sort of grace and hospitality you might if an angel of the Lord were in your presence. Love that that you might normally reserve for the divine is, it seems, meant to be extended to even the lowliest who cross your path.

But intentionally or not, most of us are pretty meritocratic when it comes to how we show kindness, doling out compassion to those we think deserve it or who might return the favor on down the road. We are slower to engage with “the least of these,” the people we don’t even want to think about. We’d rather not make eye contact with them, much less love them.

But grace doesn’t allow the Christian to ignore anyone—instead it demands that the unloved and the unlovable be seen, respected, and most of all, loved. Grace calls the believer to see the image of God in every person, no matter their situation or their story, and to respond accordingly, with the mercy of Christ. In the kingdom of God there is no caste system, no pecking order, there are only those saved by the grace of Jesus Christ. So as you encounter people in your daily life, whether they are Olympian or ordinary, don’t demand a reason to love them—the cross is reason enough.

New Light (Friday Devotional)

“Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.”

- Isaiah 58:8-10

Imagine yourself standing alone in a dark room, the only illumination a lit candle in your hand. As minutes tick by, you can feel the heat of the flickering flame inch closer to your hand as the wax melts and the candle shrinks. There is no sunlight, no electric bulb, no flashlight—the moment your candle burns out, you will be plunged into total darkness.

But then a figure emerges from the other side of the room, someone you hadn’t seen through the dim light your candle provides. She holds in her hand a candle of her own, brand new, never before lit. She looks from her candle to yours, silently asking the question—will you light her candle with yours, will you draw from your meager flame to create one for her? Your choice is simple: you can let your flame fizzle out and lose any chance at light, or you can share what you have and create more light in the room than ever.

This is one of the great conflicts of the Christian life—when confronted with darkness, do you greedily cling to the light of Christ as something for you alone, or do you still seek to share it? Life presents plenty of moments in which darkness threatens to overcome you, whether for a brief moment or a lengthy season. When that happens, the tendency is to withdraw within yourself, to focus only on your problems, your situation. You become quick to cast blame and slow to forgive, pushing others away as you sink further into darkness. The feeling is that what you have to offer others you must save for yourself right now, that it is the only light you have left and you have to cherish it for as long as it will last.

But Scripture offers a different remedy—when you are falling into despair, instead of retreating inside the darkness, offer what light you have to others. When you want to be served, serve. When you want to be forgiven, forgive. When you want to be loved, love. And like the candle in the room, far from extinguishing your light, your sacrifice brings about double the illumination that existed before. By placing others before yourself in obedience to Christ, even and especially when you are struggling, “your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.”

The wisdom of the world says that when you are struggling, you should retreat and regroup, focusing entirely on yourself until you get back on your feet again. But the cross pushes you to look beyond your own struggle and to give of yourself—even when you have next to nothing to give. The world’s way may let your flame keep flickering on for a few moments, but only Christ’s way can bring new light in the darkness.

Hide and Seek (Friday Devotional)

“Am I a God near by, says the Lord, and not a God far off? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them? says the Lord. Do I not fill heaven and earth? says the Lord.”

- Jeremiah 23:23-24

I struggled to keep my breathing quiet and my body still. I tightly squeezed my eyes shut, fearing the whites could give me away. Above all, I listened carefully, paying close attention to every footfall, every whisper. They were close, I was certain of it. My time was almost up.

But then, miraculously, the voices started to fade, until all I could hear was the hum of the air conditioner. They hadn’t found me, I was safe! I allowed myself a sigh of relief even as I stayed alert, knowing my pursuers could be back at any moment. This was serious business—this was hide-and-go-seek. I couldn’t let myself relax for a single second.

But, as those seconds became minutes, my initial adrenaline started to morph into something else—boredom? Annoyance? Fear? Where were they? I had done my part, I had hidden—now it was my cousins’ job to find me! As proud as I had been of myself a few minutes ago, when I had remained undiscovered even with them so close, now I was getting nervous. Had they forgotten about me?

After a few more minutes, I looked at my watch and saw that thirty minutes had passed since our game of hide-and-go-seek had begun, and my cousins didn’t seem any closer to finding me than at the beginning of the game. So, unfurling my stiff body from the corner of the closet where I’d spent the last half hour, I made my way to the kitchen only to find everyone sitting at the table enjoying a snack.

Indignantly, I demanded an explanation from my cousins. “Where were you? I’ve been waiting forever!”

My oldest cousin smiled and answered. “Oh, we found you at the very beginning…that closet’s the first place we looked. We just thought we’d see how it long it would take for you to come looking for us.”

When we try to hide from God, we make the same mistakes I did as a child playing hide-and-go-seek: we underestimate how much we want to be found…and how bad we are at hiding. As fallen beings, it is in our nature to want to flee from the will of God when it seems too difficult or demanding. But when you step away from the presence of the Lord, just as natural is the subsequent feeling of regret, the realization that you want to be found far more than you want to be lost.

What we lose sight of, from the moment we run from His will to the moment we return in repentance, is that there is no hiding from God—that even when we leave Him, He never leaves us. Even when we want to be hidden, He has not lost sight of us.

There are times, especially after you have stumbled, when it seems like your attempts to hide from God have actually succeeded. In those moments, it can feel like you have found a place so secret, so dark, that God is not there. Nothing could be more terrifying. When those times come, take comfort in knowing that, like the Prodigal Son, you can always return home. No matter how far you fall or how well you hide, God never loses track of you—sometimes He’s just waiting for you to leave your hiding place and come looking for Him.