Fully Focused (Friday Devotional)

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

- Hebrews 12:2

In an NBA Finals game, there’s a lot to see. There are thousands of fans cheering, jeering, waving, drinking, and chatting with their neighbors. There is the endless stream of colorful graphics and videos on the electronic scoreboard above midcourt. There are the coaches frantically running up and down the sidelines, the bench mob cheering on their teammates, and the media members making sense of it all for the television audience back home. And, of course, there is the game happening on the court—ten professional basketball players setting screens, drawing fouls, corralling rebounds, and driving to the paint.

Jim Vanderford has been to every NBA Finals since 2007, but he’s missed out on seeing a lot of what I just described. That’s because, as a camera operator for ABC and ESPN, he’s had one job during the Finals for the past decade: pointing the camera at LeBron James. In a star-driven league, the networks know that missing a key moment from basketball’s biggest star would be professional malpractice on their part, so Vanderford’s job is simple—whether LeBron is dunking, shooting, passing, barking instructions to teammates in the huddle, or sipping Gatorade on the bench, Jim Vanderford gets it on film. He never allows the camera’s gaze to wander to any of King James’s teammates, coaches, or opponents, nor to anything happening in the stands. No matter what else is happening around him, he is locked on LeBron.

Hebrews 12:2 calls us to that kind of single-minded focus when it comes to faith in Christ. Like a Finals game, the world is packed with sights and sounds that pull our attention away from God. Idols, though no longer towering over us as statues of wood and bronze, are just as real today as in the days of the Israelites. Every day we are tempted by the siren calls of power, wealth, and renown.

But in the face of all these attractions and distractions, Scripture calls us to fix our eyes on Jesus. For all the lures that earthly idols have, they cannot offer the salvation he gave us on the cross; they cannot promise the life with God which is our reward in Christ. Idols demand your attention, your time, and even your soul, but they ultimately offer little in return.

Every moment you have a choice where to turn your attention, your faith, and your love. So with the kind of focus that would do Jim Vanderford proud, fix your eyes on the one who matters most.

Full Immersion (Friday Devotional)

“Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator.”

- Colossians 3:9-10

Sam Houston is one of the most distinctive figures in the history of both our state and our nation: he served in both the U.S. House of Representatives and the Senate, as Commander-in-Chief of the Texas Army and then as its first president, and as governor of Tennessee and, decades later, Texas. He was also, however, a notorious drunk, brawler, and all-around scoundrel, nearly as infamous around Texas for his drinking binges and fistfights as for his military and political accomplishments.

So it was no small feat when, guided by his third wife Margaret, he came to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ at the age of 63 and committed to living for the Lord for the rest of his life. Dozens of people in and around Independence, Texas gathered at Little Rocky Creek to see Rufus Burleson, the president of Baylor University, baptize Houston. But before Burleson immersed the senator, he pointed out to him that he might want to set aside his fine leather wallet, which Houston had failed to remove when he changed into his baptismal clothes. “No, I believe not, pastor,” said Houston with a smile. “I’m afraid it needs baptizing too.”

We can all learn something from Sam Houston’s witness in this case, because sometimes we prefer to leave parts of our lives unbaptized. Whether in the cutthroat world of business, in conversations with friends, or even—as Houston cleverly indicated—in the ways we spend our money, it’s tempting to keep God at arm’s length. The sad truth is that, for many, faith is something compartmentalized and siphoned away from those areas of life where following Jesus is inconvenient.

But the Bible makes clear that when you accept Jesus as Lord, there is no room for casual commitment. “You have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self,” says Paul. Faith in Christ is not about self-improvement or behavioral modification, but about total transformation.

The greatest commandment, Jesus says, is to love the Lord with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength—in other words, with everything you have to give. So take a moment to ask, am I living up to that command, or have I declared parts of my life off limits to God? Like Sam Houston’s wallet, maybe those things need to be baptized too.

The Evangelical Problem with Triggering the Libs

A week ago, a group of more than 50 conservative evangelical leaders, most notably John McArthur, published “The Statement on Social Justice & the Gospel” a list of affirmations and denials of belief based upon their concerns about “questionable sociological, psychological, and political theories presently permeating our culture and making inroads into Christ's church.” The affirmations were largely rote and, for the most part, might as well have been copied and pasted from The 2000 Baptist Faith and Message. The denials, however, made some noise.

On Scripture: “We deny that the postmodern ideologies derived from intersectionality, radical feminism, and critical race theory are consistent with biblical teaching.” On the church: “We deny that political or social activism should be viewed as integral components of the gospel or primary to the mission of the church.” On the gospel: “Implications and applications of the gospel, such as the obligation to live justly in the world, though legitimate and important in their own right, are not definitional components of the gospel.” There are fourteen categories total, including sexuality and marriage, race/ethnicity, and culture, but you get the idea.

Pastors, scholars, and denominational leaders have largely denounced the statement and its arguments against social justice as theologically feeble, historically blind, and needlessly divisive. While I take issue with much of what the statement says (and doesn’t say—for example, the kingdom of God isn’t mentioned once), I’ll leave it to those wiser and more eloquent than I to pick it apart line by line. What I want to take a moment to discuss instead is the implicit purpose behind the statement: triggering the libs.

With rhetoric that is persuasive neither in intention nor execution, there should be little doubt that that was the statement's purpose. This document is not trying to win any converts or sway any skeptics; it is feeding red meat to the base. It is the theological equivalent of an episode of Hannity, designed to hammer home a narrative for those sympathetic to its ideology and to rile up those who oppose it. It doesn't want a debate, it wants the last word.

More and more, I fear, that is becoming the bread and butter of conservative evangelicals' discourse—rather than engaging with critics, we insult them. Instead of countering arguments, we shut them down with acerbic memes. Instead of talking, we shout.

I can't count the number of times that I've logged onto Facebook and seen a brother or sister in Christ post a status or share a meme which has no purpose other than to mock a liberal politician, cause, or argument. No debate is being advanced, no point is being made...it just feels good to take a cheap shot. But let me offer a word of caution: "triggering the libs" hurts your Christian witness.

You can disagree with the protests of Colin Kaepernick and NFL players, and you can argue why they're disrespectful. But when you descend to insulting Kaepernick personally, you're not advancing an argument, you're just being spiteful.

You can think the Democratic Party's flirtations with socialism are foolish and/or dangerous. But when you jump to Nazi comparisons, you're giving a lesson in histrionics, not history.

And yes, you can be grateful Hillary Clinton isn't the President, and even grateful that Donald Trump is. But when you ask out loud what kind of any idiot would vote for "Killary," you may feel like a winner, but you sound nothing like Jesus.

The world is a fallen place, where ungodly ideas routinely take hold and wreak havoc on cultural norms that Christians hold dear. But the answer to sin is not more sin; fighting fire with fire only burns the house down faster. Jesus told us how counter darkness: by being lights to the world, witnesses to his grace, glory, and love.

Fox News pundits will continue to delight in triggering the libs, and pastors like Robert Jeffress and John McArthur will join in and find biblical prooftexts to justify doing so. But rank-and-file conservative evangelicals need not follow their example—we can lead instead. We can listen to, engage with, and love our neighbors, especially the ones we don't agree with. We can practice mercy and forgiveness instead of dominance and self-righteousness. We can make a change by choosing, preaching, and showing the light of Christ to a dark world.

You feel good when you trigger the libs. You do good when you love them.

Too Little Too Late (Friday Devotional)

No one who conceals transgressions will prosper, but one who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.

- Proverbs 28:13

When customers arrived at the Shipley’s Donuts shop in Houston in the middle of the day, they probably expected to have the place to themselves. But that hope was shattered when three men came barging through the front door—one of them waving a gun. Two of the men hopped over the counter to demand money from the cash register, while the other grabbed phones and wallets from the customers. As this third man waited for his partners to collect the cash, security camera footage shows him speaking calmly with the customers, possibly telling them it would all be over soon.

After a minute or two, the other thieves jumped back over the counter with their haul, making their way toward the door, and the third robber did something strange. Grabbing a couple of fresh donuts from behind the counter, he gently handed them to the petrified customers, then left hastily with his partners. He’d stolen their cash, their credit cards, and their cell phones—but at the last minute, he’d tried to make up for it with a couple of free donuts.

In a sense, we often treat God the same way that armed robber treated those customers—we try to patch up our sins with slight gestures of contrition, hoping that our small acts of penance will make up for larger failings. We lie to our spouse and then guiltily put a little extra in the offering plate at church. We lash out at a stranger online and then try to make up for it with some Bible reading that night. We wallow in hypocrisy and pride on Saturday and then show up Sunday morning to atone for our sins with worship.

Like the customers in that donut shop, God is not impressed with the crumbs we throw His way—He is not interested in our guilt, but our repentance. Repentance is more than just remorse for our sin, it means turning away from sin and toward Him. It’s one thing to recognize your failings, but it takes far more courage and faith to reverse course.

The gospel teaches us that in Christ, redemption begins with repentance, with the turning of your face from sin toward the cross. So when you fall short of the image of God, don’t settle for trifling acts of contrition; don’t try to barter your way toward forgiveness. Instead, turn from your failures to Christ’s victory. It is not your gifts of guilt that can save you—only God’s gift of grace.

The Reality of Ministry (Friday Devotional)

They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

- Luke 6:18-19

The enemy spaceship is hurtling toward you at full speed. You jerk the controls to the right and dodge impact by what feels like inches, only to be confronted with a brand new danger: an asteroid field dead ahead. Ducking your head with the motion of your ship, you weave between asteroids, all while firing at approaching ships from the rear. Suddenly, before you know what’s happened, your vision goes red and you feel a rumble that shakes your entire body. You’ve been hit, and there’s no coming back from this one.

So you rip the virtual reality headset off your head, blink as your eyes adjust to the light of the living room, and head into the kitchen for a snack.

Virtual reality, once confined to visions of a Jetsons-like future, is rapidly becoming, well, reality. In games like the one described above, putting on a VR headset can transport you to whole other worlds, where suddenly you are flying through space, running from dinosaurs, or playing football with the pros. In a virtual sense, you can explore new places, meet fascinating people, and have great adventures—all without leaving home.

The rise of these games speaks to a bigger truth—more and more, we are growing content with virtual experiences replacing physical ones. When we need to talk to someone, we send a text message or an e-mail. When we want the entertainment of a story, we pull up Netflix. When we want to catch up with an old friend, the interaction starts and ends with Facebook. In a world of social media, online shopping, streaming video, and even drone warfare, it seems like there is little that cannot be handled virtually anymore.

But in the face of this brave new world, the ministry of the gospel remains stubbornly tied to the physical, the here and now. When Jesus healed people, the gospel writers tell us he almost never did so long distance—rather, he laid his hands on those who needed him; he looked them in the eyes and spoke aloud the words of grace they needed to hear. When he gave us the Lord’s Supper, he did not only command that we remember and reflect, but that we “take and eat”—that there be a physical act to accompany the spiritual significance. And when he gave us our salvation, he did not do so with a message airdropped from heaven, but with a broken body, spilled blood, and a physical resurrection from the grave.

For all the ways that your relationship with God and your ministry to others can be carried out virtually—by listening to sermon podcasts and praise music, by sending kind words in a text message, etc.—following Christ must eventually happen live and in person. Comforting the grieving entails wiping away wet tears. Serving the hungry requires ladling out hot soup. Rejoicing with new parents means holding their precious child in your arms. Our digital world has made many mundane tasks more convenient, but ministry remains as tactile, difficult—and glorious—as ever. So may your walk with Christ be more than just a virtual reality—may it be a present one.

Never the Same

There are certain things you get used to hearing when people find out you’re having your first child:

“Hope you’re prepared for a lot of sleepless nights!”

“You two are going to make great parents!”

“Do you already have [insert baby accessory that’s on the registry]?

To each of these I started to develop rote responses over the course of Lindsey’s pregnancy—a good-natured joke here, a word of thanks there. But there was one statement that always left me unsure how to respond, “Your life will never be the same.”

What are you supposed to say to that?

I was never sure. It’s such a profound thing to say to someone, almost always uttered by someone who knows of what they speak, i.e. a parent. Countless times I was assured that when I looked into my son’s eyes for the first time, I would feel a kind of love I’d never felt before, that my priorities would change forever, and that I would be hit with a simultaneous rush of responsibility and joy. So many people told me this, in so many different ways, that I defiantly started to wonder if they knew what they were talking about.

But they were right, of course. I don’t know if that wave of love rushed over me the moment I held my son for the first time—after all, when your wife is lying prone on the operating table and your child is being brought into the world, adrenaline and fear pretty much crowd out all other emotions. But as early as that night, when I laid on the too-small couch in our hospital room and held him against my chest until he fell asleep, all those advisors from the previous nine months were proven correct. In practical ways and emotional ways, my life was changed.

But what no one prepared me for was how it would change my ministry.

Helping the poor has always been important to me, because, you know, Jesus. But where before, I could hear stories about impoverished families and feel disconnected from their struggle, now it seems like my eyes well up with tears every time. Those kids are hungry, I think. Those parents don’t know what to do, I think. And now as I think, I feel torn up inside. Now I can’t hear a story like that without stopping to pray.

I’ve always had sympathy for single parents, imagining how hard it must be to work all day, sometimes at multiple jobs, and still find time and energy for their kids. But now that sympathy has been transformed into a deep and abiding respect—no longer do I regard single parents as harried, but as heroes. Look at the sacrifices they’re making, I think, and I’m filled not with pity, but wonder.

I’ve always enjoyed seeing kids engaged in the life of the church. But where before, I was happy to let them do their thing in the comfort of the children’s department, now I want to see and be a part of every new discovery they make about the Lord and His gospel.

Even my own personal relationship with God has deepened. “Son of God” has always been a title that helps me understand who Jesus is. It’s right there in the Bible, after all. But now, when I think about the idea of God sending His only Son to live and love and minister and die...it’s so much harder for me to fathom than it ever was before. A love I always knew was wide and long and high and deep now seems wider, longer, higher, and deeper.

Faith grows in all kinds of ways—in prayer, in study, in suffering, in community. For 20 months and counting, mine has grown in fatherhood. So to all those who told me my life would never be the same, thank you. I never could have known how right you’d be. Honestly, I’m not sure even you knew. But the Father did.

Instant Transformation (Friday Devotional)

He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

- Luke 19:1-10

When you take a moment to think about it, popcorn is amazing. You start with these hard, golden brown kernels, these things which look (and taste) more like rocks than food. But then you stick them in the microwave for 2 minutes and voila—suddenly those kernels are white, fluffy, delicious pieces of popcorn. Two minutes of heat is all it takes to effect a complete transformation. It’s hard to believe a change like that can happen so fast.

I wonder if that’s what the crowd was thinking in Jericho the day Zacchaeus was transformed. As a chief tax collector, he was a despised person in the community, someone for whom corruption and treachery was second nature. He was the kind of man worthy of sneers, not salvation.

Perhaps that’s why he had so much trouble getting a decent view the day Jesus passed through town—no one was going to make space for Zacchaeus. Taking matters into his own hands, he climbed a sycamore tree for a better sightline, and in doing so caught Jesus’s attention. The crowd must have been eager to hear Jesus’s judgment upon this sinner, but they were disappointed, for instead Zacchaeus received a gesture of friendship: “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down,” Jesus said. “For I must stay at your house today.”

By the time they’d made their way to Zacchaeus’s home, the crowd’s dismay was apparent; they couldn’t believe Jesus was wasting his time on a sinner like this tax collector. But that was when they received their second surprise of the day, this time from the mouth of the man who’d spent years earning their hatred. Hearing the complaints, Zacchaeus promised that starting that day he would give half of his wealth to the poor; furthermore, anyone he’d defrauded over the years he would pay back fourfold.

How could this be? Zacchaeus was a professional sinner, a traitor to his people, a thief, a liar! How could he go from stealing from the poor one minute to extravagantly giving to them the next? How could he go from being a man of greed to a man of grace seemingly in the blink of an eye? It was hard to believe a change like that could happen so fast.

We tend to think of people the way that crowd must have thought of Zacchaeus—as unchangeable. We assume that their bad habits are baked in, that their flaws are unfixable, that their past determines their future. People don’t change, we say.

But when Jesus enters the equation, we see how false a narrative that really is. “Today salvation has come to this house,” Jesus said of Zacchaeus. Today. Not in a few months when he has time to prove himself, not in a few years when he’s worked his way into the community’s good graces, not in the next life. Today.

Jesus is able to do what we think impossible, to effect eternal change in the blink of an eye. Jesus can heal and redeem people we think are lost causes, Jesus can save people we think are beyond help. There are people we simply cannot and will not believe in, people we are sure are past the point of grace—but if you can’t believe in them, then perhaps you can believe in Him. Jesus can take the repentant faith of the worst man imaginable and make him someone new.

So when confronted with someone you are sure can’t change, pray for faith—not only theirs, but yours. Jesus is in the business of new creation—and you won’t believe how fast he can work.