Still My Favorite Love Story

Thirty-three years ago today, a young man and a young woman stood before God, surrounded by family and friends, and promised one another a lifetime.

Like every young couple, we had plans. We had dreams. We wondered where life would take us.

We talked about children – possibly two or three… maybe four if we were feeling especially adventurous.

We smiled at the future because we imagined we knew what it might look like. We didn’t. Not even close.

We had no idea that God would entrust us with eight wonderful children. We had no idea that one day our home would be filled with laughter, music, muddy shoes, backpacks, late-night conversations, birthday parties, grandchildren, and more memories than either of us could ever count.

We had no idea how many miles we would travel together. How many churches we would serve. How many prayers we would pray. How many tears we would quietly wipe away.

How many times we would find ourselves standing in hospital rooms, sitting beside grieving families, rejoicing at weddings, celebrating new life, or simply holding one another after another long day.

Looking back now, I realize something. We spent a lot of time making plans. God spent all along writing a far better story.

One of His greatest gifts to me was Jenny.

Most people know her as sweet – and they are absolutely right. She is. But they don’t always get to see the whole picture.

They don’t know how quick she is with a comeback. How delightfully sharp her sense of humor can be. Or that every now and then she can say something so unexpectedly funny that I find myself laughing long after everyone else has moved on.

They don’t always know that after thirty-three years she still has the remarkable ability to roll her eyes at one of my jokes with perfect timing. (It is still my opinion that the audience is occasionally the problem.)

I still love her beautiful red hair.

I still love her smile.

I still love the sparkle in her eyes.

And yes… after all these years, we still enjoy “sporting” together.

Some things simply get better with time.

But if all I said were those things, I would miss what I admire most. I have watched Jenny quietly pour herself into people for decades.

She loves children – not because she has to, but because she genuinely delights in them. She notices widows. She encourages women. She serves our church without seeking attention. She sings God’s praises with sincerity. She opens her Bible faithfully. Again and again, I have watched her choose faithfulness in all the ordinary places where character is truly formed.

The world often celebrates the loud and the impressive. God delights in the faithful.

That is the woman I married.

There is one more thing I want to say – something that perhaps very few people know.

There have been seasons when I have felt weary. Moments when leadership felt heavy. Days when I questioned myself more than I questioned anyone else. And in those moments, God has often strengthened me through Jenny.

Her confidence in me has steadied me. Her affection has comforted me. Her prayers have upheld me. Her quiet faith has reminded me to trust the Lord again. She probably doesn’t even realize how many times God has used her to help me stand when I felt weak.

For that, I will always be grateful.

When I married Jenny, I thought I was choosing the woman who would make my life happier. Thirty-three years later, I realize God was giving me the woman who would help make me more like Christ. That is a far greater gift.

Jenny… Thank you for believing in a young man who had more enthusiasm than wisdom.

Thank you for walking beside me through every season God has ordained. Thank you for laughing with me. Praying with me. Forgiving me. Encouraging me. Serving with me. Growing with me.

Most of all, thank you for loving Christ more than you have ever loved me. That has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

If someone were to ask me whether I would do it all again – knowing every joy, every hardship, every surprise, every blessing, and every sorrow these thirty-three years would hold…

My answer would be immediate. Without hesitation. Without reservation. Without changing a single thing that brought me to this moment beside you.

I would still choose you.

Thirty-three years ago, I thought I was inviting you to share my life. Looking back, I realize God was inviting both of us into a story that neither of us could have imagined. And what a beautiful story it has been.

Happy Anniversary, my love.

Thank you for thirty-three wonderful years.

By God’s grace, I look forward to whatever chapters He is pleased to write next.

Why We Sing What We Sing

Have you ever left Sunday morning worship thinking, “I just didn’t get much out of the singing today”?

Perhaps the songs weren’t familiar. Perhaps they weren’t your preferred style. Perhaps they simply didn’t resonate with you the way you hoped they would. I have.

Sometimes I’ve concluded that I simply preferred different songs. Churches don’t always make the same musical choices, and not every song will resonate with every believer in exactly the same way.

But sometimes the problem wasn’t the songs. Sometimes I just forgot what congregational singing was actually for. It’s very easy to evaluate worship by asking questions like:

– Did I enjoy those songs?
– Did they move me emotionally?
– Did I connect with them?

Those aren’t unimportant questions, but perhaps they may not be the first questions.

The Apostle Paul gives us a different perspective in Colossians 3.16. He tells us that as God’s people sing, “the word of Christ” dwells richly among them. Their songs teach. They admonish. They encourage. They fill hearts and minds with truth.

That means congregational singing is doing far more than creating an emotional experience. God is using it to shape His people.

I’ve found myself increasingly grateful for faithful congregational singing. Not because every song has been my favorite, or because every arrangement has reflected my personal preferences, but because I’ve been reminded what God is doing through it.

Faithful congregational singing doesn’t simply accompany worship; it quietly helps shape the hearts of those who participate in it. Congregational singing is the weekly rehearsal of reality.

Every Sunday the church helps one another remember what the rest of the week conspires to make us forget:
– God is still holy.
 – Christ is still worthy.
 – The gospel is still true.
 – Our hope is still secure.

We are not teaching God these things. We are reminding our emotions of them.

The world spends six days pulling our attention in a thousand different directions. It quietly teaches us to measure life by our circumstances, our emotions, our successes, our disappointments, and our fears.
Then the Lord’s Day comes.

God gathers His people, and together they sing truths that gently reorient their hearts toward what is eternally true.

That also helps explain why the songs we sing matter. The question isn’t whether a song is old or new. Nor is it simply whether it is musically excellent or emotionally moving. The better question is this: Where is this song directing my attention?

Some songs primarily magnify the greatness, holiness, faithfulness, and worthiness of God. Others spend most of their time occupied with us – our feelings, our experiences, our commitments, and our responses.

To be sure, there is a proper place for singing about what God has done in our lives. Scripture itself does that often. But biblical worship has a remarkable way of lifting our eyes beyond ourselves to the One who is worthy of our praise.

The next time you gather with God’s people, don’t begin by asking, “Did I enjoy the singing?”

Rather ask: Did these songs help me see God more clearly?

Because perhaps the greatest gift of congregational singing isn’t that it simply gives expression to our hearts. It’s that, week after week, it gently teaches our hearts where they belong.

When a Sermon Rubs You the Wrong Way

Have you ever heard a sermon that rubbed you the wrong way?

Maybe something the preacher said bothered you. Maybe you disagreed with the way he said it. Maybe you walked away thinking he was too harsh, too strong, or simply wrong.
I have.

And sometimes, after thinking about it, I have concluded that I really did disagree. Preachers are not infallible. We can misunderstand a passage, say something poorly, or fail to explain something as carefully as we should.

But sometimes the problem was not the sermon. Sometimes the truth had simply gotten too close. And that is much harder to admit.

When a sermon makes us uncomfortable, it is remarkably easy to begin framing our understanding of the sermon around our feelings.
– I felt attacked.
– That sounded unkind.
– I did not like the way he said what he said.

And before long, our reaction to the sermon becomes our interpretation of the sermon.

But feeling uncomfortable does not necessarily mean we have been treated unfairly. Sometimes conviction is uncomfortable. Sometimes correction is uncomfortable. Sometimes the Word of God confronts something in us that we would rather defend than examine.

James writes: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” – James 1.19

We often use those words as general advice for relationships and communication, and rightly so. But James is writing about our response to the Word of God. A few verses later, he tells us to “receive with meekness the implanted word.”

Perhaps we need to learn to listen to expositional preaching with expositional hearing.

That means we do not begin with, “How did that make me feel?”
We begin with:
– What did the preacher actually say?
– What was he trying to communicate?
– What does the text actually say?
– And why did this bother me so much?
We would do well to listen prayerfully before reacting quickly.

That does not mean every preacher is right. It does not mean we accept everything we hear without discernment. We should open our Bibles. We should examine the text. We should test what is taught.

But biblical discernment and personal defensiveness are not the same thing.
One wants to know whether the message is true.
The other wants to prove that my reaction was justified.

How we respond when the Word confronts us may reveal more about our hearts than we realize.
– Pride is quick to speak, quick to defend, and quick to assume the problem lies somewhere else.
– Humility is willing to listen again. Humility opens the Bible. Humility prays, “Lord, show me what is true, even if I do not like what I find.”

The next time a sermon rubs you the wrong way, do not be too quick to dismiss it. Listen to it again. Open your Bible. Pray. And ask whether the truth that unsettled you might be the truth you needed to hear.

The Gospel Is News Too Good to Keep Quiet

We often speak of missions primarily as a command.

And it is.

But if that is all we say, mission can begin to sound like a burden—another Christian duty we must fulfill.

The New Testament feels different.
Mission begins with an explosion of joy.

Jesus Christ, rejected and crucified, is alive!
How could such news be suppressed?

The first Christians did not merely speak because they had been commanded to speak. They spoke because they had seen the risen Christ and could not keep quiet.

The Great Commission is a command.
But the resurrection makes it a joy.

Mission is resurrection joy spilling into the world.
“We cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.” – Acts 4.20

Happy Birthday, Jenny [July 8]

Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife, Jenny!
I have been studying this woman for a very long time now, and after nearly 33 years of marriage, I have reached a few fairly definitive conclusions.
First, I love red hair. I mean, I probably love red hair because I love her red hair … but at this point, I’m not sure the two can be separated. She is, after all, my standard for beauty.

I love her smile. I love her affection. I love her wisdom and her wit. Everyone thinks Jenny is so sweet – and she is. She really is. But I also know the Jenny who can be quick with a comeback, sharp with her teasing, and who can, on occasion, come up with something so unexpectedly salty and silly that I’m left wondering, “Where in the world did THAT come from?” 😂

She makes me laugh. Sometimes she laughs at my jokes. Sometimes she just rolls her eyes. Which I have learned to accept: the problem in those moments is obviously with the audience. Honestly, I love that after all these years, we still laugh together. We still flirt with each other. We still enjoy “sporting,” as the Bible calls it. 😏

But there is so much more to this woman I love. I watch her pour herself out for others every day.
She loves children – all children.
She cares deeply about the women in our church.
She notices the widows and loves on them.
She serves. She sings. She gives. She cares.
And before so many others ever receive anything from her, she faithfully spends time with the Lord. I see that too. I see the woman everyone else sees – the beautiful, sweet, caring Jenny.

But I also get to see more. I get to see:
The funny Jenny.
The affectionate Jenny.
The feisty Jenny.
The tired Jenny.
The praying Jenny.
The woman who has poured out so much of herself for so many people for so many years.

And I get to experience something that perhaps no one else fully sees: This woman makes me stronger.
There are times when I feel weak, uncertain, or lacking godly confidence – and somehow her love, her affection, her presence, her respect & care toward me – help me stand firm and stand tall. I don’t know if she even knows how often she does that. So on her birthday, I don’t merely want to thank her for everything she does. I want to celebrate her.

Jenny, I still notice you.
I still admire you.
I still enjoy you.
I still want to be near you.
Your red hair still catches my eye.
Your smile still feels like home.
Your affection still means more to me than I can say.
And after all these years, I am still crazy about you.
Happy Birthday to my beautiful, funny, sweet, occasionally salty, eye-rolling, redheaded wife.
You are my delight and my treasure – my “So Much.”
And yes, my love… I am still very interested in “sporting” with you, and I don’t care who else notices or sees. ❤️😂
Happy Birthday, Jenny.
I love you.
X♥️X♥️

The Model of Biblical Masculinity

In a culture confused about manhood, we do not need new definitions.

We need to look at Jesus.

He initiated our salvation at the cost of His life.

He led by serving.

He provides for His people.

He protects His church – even to the point of death.

Biblical masculinity is not aggression.

It is not passivity.

It is not selfish ambition.

It is sacrificial leadership, humble service, faithful provision, and courageous protection.

In other words, biblical masculinity looks like Jesus.

The deeper a man’s relationship with Christ, the more he becomes the man God created him to be.

“Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” – Ephesians 5.25

The Opposite of Zeal

Most Christians are not destroyed by sudden rebellion.

They drift.

A neglected discipline.
An idle hour.
A comfortable routine.
A growing indifference.

Little by little, zeal cools. Scripture warns us far more often about complacency than persecution.

Comfort has lulled more believers to sleep than opposition ever has.

God made us for purposeful work, disciplined living, and wholehearted devotion.

The battle for faithfulness is often won or lost in ordinary moments – in the small disciplines, daily duties, and unseen choices that shape our lives.

The opposite of zeal is not heresy.

It is indifference.

“Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.” – James 1.22

Take the Step

Many believers spend their lives waiting for perfect certainty before they obey God.

But faith rarely works that way.

Faith acts.

Faith obeys.

Faith moves forward trusting that God will prove Himself faithful along the way.

Will we sometimes stumble?

Of course.

But it is better to take a stumbling step of faith than to remain frozen by fear.

God does not call His people to flawless performance.

He calls them to trusting obedience.

The servant who attempts much for God may occasionally fail.

The servant who attempts nothing never learns the faithfulness of God.

Faith grows when exercised.

So take the step.

Trust the Lord.

And leave the results in His hands.

“Without faith it is impossible to please Him.” – Hebrews 11.6

The Paradox of Freedom

Our culture tells us that freedom is found in autonomy.

Do what you want.
Be your own authority.
Answer to no one but yourself.

But Scripture teaches the exact opposite.

When people rebel against God, they do not become free. They simply exchange one master for another.

Sin always promises liberty.

Yet sin is a tyrant.

It enslaves.
It controls.
It diminishes.

The great paradox of the Christian life is that surrender to God produces freedom.

When we submit to Christ, we do not become less human. We become more fully what God intended us to be.

Every heart serves a master.

The question is not whether you will serve.

The question is whether your master enslaves or liberates.

“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” – John 8.36

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision.

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision. It is usually a gradual neglect.

A neglected Bible becomes an occasional Bible.

An occasional prayer becomes a hurried prayer.

A hurried prayer becomes no prayer at all.
Worship becomes optional.

Convictions become preferences.
Sin becomes tolerated.

And before long, a person finds himself farther from God than he ever intended to be.

That is why Hebrews warns: “We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” (Hebrews 2.1)

No sailor drifts toward the harbor. Drift always carries us away from our destination.

The Christian life requires intentionality. Not because God is reluctant to keep His people, but because God uses ordinary means – His Word, prayer, fellowship, worship, and obedience – to keep us close to Himself.

If you feel distant from the Lord today, don’t wait for a dramatic spiritual experience.

Open your Bible.

Pray.

Gather with God’s people.

Take the next step of obedience.

The way back is often found in the simple things we first neglected.