The easiest way to shatter the image you have of what it looks like to be a perfect parent is to actually become one.

Before becoming a parent, I will confess that in my mind I was the perfect parent. I had all the discipline, love, strength, and strategies figured out. I had read the Scriptures and parenting books, and I had seen prime examples.

Yet, like in so many areas of our lives, God has a way of shattering our pride and humbling us. I now parent two children with disabilities and one rambunctious toddler, and I believe that I know far less than I did when I began seven years ago. Yet there are things that I am more and more confident in.

Discipline Matters

The Scriptures are quite clear that discipline matters in raising children. The often-quoted (and misquoted) “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” which actually reads, “Whoever spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him.” ( Proverbs 13:24) The rod here in Hebrew is the rod of a shepherd, one who lovingly guides and leads the sheep. It is not a tool of abuse but rather a tool of protection. Discipline is used to keep a child within the realm of safety.

Yet so many have used this text as an excuse to vent the full force of their anger upon their children. I have had self-identifying Christians tell me that I was a bad parent because my autistic child was having a meltdown or was not potty trained. The irony of people telling me with straight faces about the abuses that they faced as children, where their parents would beat them indiscriminately and without love to ensure compliance, and how they were not harmed, is difficult to miss. The irony continues when you examine the lives of these people who are serial adulterers and on their fourth or fifth marriage, and their children no longer speak to them.

For my child with autism, who has an extremely high pain tolerance, physical discipline has proved ineffectual. Discipline is only effectual to the level at which the person receiving it is able to connect the consequences of what they have done with their actions. If a person has no feeling in their hands, then they will not notice their hand burning upon a hot stove.

Yet this does not mean that discipline is never required, but that it must be directed at the child and at their level of understanding. Those who parent children with disabilities are not excused from disciplining their children but have to learn how to bridge the communication barrier to find what communicates the danger that their children are entering into. Ultimately it is built on the trust that the one disciplining has love for the one receiving disipline.

Love Matters More

My knowledge of parenting is not based upon my own experience. I am in the middle of the trenches, and when you are in the fog of war, you cannot see the whole battlefield. You have to trust your commanders, those who have gone before you and see the landmines laid out in front of you. In Scripture, we have the full blueprint of the battlefield, and in the church we have the example of faithful parents who have gone before us.

In Ephesians 6:4, Paul says:

“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”

This is about as succinct a summary of the duty of any father as you can find, and there are no exclusions made here for fathers of children with disabilities. This is in the context of the household code given in Ephesians 6. Wives have been called to submit, husbands have been called to Christlike sacrificial love, and children have been called to obedience. Here, fathers are commanded to use their authority in godliness. Fathers are to parent in such a way that they do not allow their anger and preferences to dominate their children, thus embittering them and provoking them to anger. This does not mean that your children will never be angry, but rather that a loving and understanding father seeks to always draw his children through his discipline and instruction closer and closer to the Lord.

The Father relationship is deeply embedded into the character of who God is. God is love. He, as a loving Father, hears our prayers and our petitions. As a loving Father, he listens and understands our weaknesses. He disciplines and instructs in light of those weaknesses. He is patient and slow to anger because he loves.

The most faithful fathers that I have known—and by that definition, I mean those fathers whose children are still faithfully following the Lord Jesus—are the fathers who, though they are imperfect and although they may have failed in thousands and thousands of ways, were a persistent force of godly love and authority in their homes. They disciplined their children, but not out of anger. They gave wise counsel and instruction, but firmly and in love. They modeled that love in their love for their wives.

Being a consistent disciplinarian is key, but discipline separate from instruction, and lacking the grounds and security found in love, will embitter and cast children far away. Parenting children with disabilities has placed these things on the extreme. My wife and I have to discern, like every parent, what is childishness and foolishness. What is rebellion and what is a lack of skill or ability? What emotions are driven by fear, pain, and an inability to communicate, and what are driven by rebellion? This is far more difficult than it is with a typical child. But the love at the center of it all enables you to ground yourself in your own imperfections.

The love and humility of a parent who can apologize to their child when they themselves are sinful toward them shouts to the glory of Christ rather than a prideful, authoritarian parent who cannot admit their wrong. It reminds the child that we all submit to someone higher, and for us, that is our heavenly Father.

Faithfulness Matters Most

Robert Murray M’Cheyne wrote, “The greatest need of my people is my personal holiness.” This is true of ministers, and it is true of fathers as well. What my children need more than my discipline, or even the hugs and kisses at the end of the day, is that I would pursue my own personal holiness and relationship with my heavenly Father. They need to see me wrestle with my sins. They need to see me grow in patience and love, both toward them and their mother. They need to see and hear me wrestle with anxiety and pain and ultimately turn it over to the Lord.

If you want godly children, we have the opportunity to model it for them every single day in our childlike faith in our heavenly Father. For those who have children with disabilities, whether physical or intellectual, you have an even greater opportunity. With more burdens, we have the ability to cast even more upon the shoulders of Christ and see him bear our burdens well. We get to model what faithful dependence looks like.

As a parent of a child with disabilities, you may not be disabled yourself, but you bear the extra load in a way similar to what your child bears every day. Are you carrying it yourself or trusting in your Father to strengthen and lift you up.

Holiness is not simply an aura or a vibe around people who are considered spiritual. It is the growth in obedience that comes as we behold the light of the knowledge of the glory of God found in the face of Jesus Christ. In that beholding, we are being transformed, and as we are transformed and grow in our faith and dependence, we are modeling that for our children.

What it all comes down to is not, “Are you the perfect parent?” because you won’t be. It is, “Are you showing up day after day, growing in patience, growing in holiness, and growing closer to your heavenly Father?”

While there are no guaranteed outcomes as a parent, the closer we grow to the heart of the Father, the more faithfully we can lead our children toward him.

What a difference a year makes!

As I am writing this, I am coming off one of the best sports weekends of the year, with the Braves sweeping the Astros to clinch their 19th division title since the realignment 32 years ago, and the Gators defeating the Auburn Tigers, getting their first away win in 638 days. Things are looking well going into the fall for my two teams.

Last year, I wrote how, as sports fans, we model faithfulness to our teams even when they are down. But this year, as I have been reflecting, I am reminded of 2 Timothy 4:2:

“Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season.”

I have been in ministry now for over a decade and have seen the seasons come and go. I have seen times when preaching the Word is well received by both the lost and the saved, and times when you preach and people are ready to pick up pitchforks and hurl stones.

I am entering now my sixth year at my current church, and I am beginning to see God move in ways that I didn’t know were possible. We have seen more baptisms this year than we have seen in twelve years. We are seeing our student ministry grow and some signs of spiritual health that cannot be measured by numbers and charts.

As I celebrate these wins, sports reminds me that the faithfulness required for succeeding in ministry is not found in hopping from place to place. It is found in faithfully sowing, faithfully watering, praying, and seeing God work and move and bring the growth.

As a fan, the joy that you experience when your team succeeds is built upon the pain of the difficult seasons. The joy in the spiritual harvest is built in the sweat and labor put in during the difficult seasons.

“O fair sun, and fair moon, and fair stars, and fair flowers, and fair roses, and fair lilies, and fair creatures; but O ten thousand thousand times fairer Lord Jesus! Alas, I wronged Him in making the comparison this way! O black sun and moon, but O fair Lord Jesus! O black flowers, and black lilies and roses, but O fair, fair, ever fair Lord Jesus!”

What a majestic quote. The first time I heard it, it had been attributed to John Flavel. Any time I hear something like that, I start doing some digging and try to trace back the source. I thought I had found it within Flavel in his work The Fountain of Life Opened Up. It was in the introduction, but when I read it, I realized that he was quoting it as well. So the digging began all over again.

I came to discover that it was actually from Samuel Rutherford, written around 34 years before Flavel quoted it. It was found in a letter that Rutherford wrote to the Laird of Cally in 1637. Flavel later quoted Rutherford in The Fountain of Life Opened Up in a prefatory letter dated March 14, 1671, introducing the quotation simply as the words of “one” who had well said it.

If you have not read Rutherford’s Letters, or the smaller collection of quotes from them contained in The Loveliness of Christ, I cannot recommend them enough.

So much of our personal correspondence today is practical and driven by the moment-to-moment need. How refreshing it is to read a letter written to friends and co-laborers that goes deeper than the present moment, stretches into the eternal, and shares something beautiful. Rutherford, in writing on the beauty of Christ, gives us more than a poetic image of the glory and majesty found in Christ alone. He gives us a glimpse of what happens when a Christian has learned to behold Christ.

Beholding this beauty in the face of Christ is what brings transformation in us from glory to glory, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 3:18:

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image...”

Paul goes on to say that this transformation is from one degree of glory to another and that it comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.

You can tell that Rutherford is taking a page out of Paul’s letter writing and majestically weaving the truth of God into a personal letter. Paul is arguing that we become what we are beholding and understanding the beauty of the risen Jesus, who is the majestic God seen in Isaiah’s vision of the throne, who left that throne, took on the form of the slave, and endured the suffering that you and I deserve. The beauty of His overwhelming kindness and compassion towards us.

This beholding is what transforms us not only at the moment of salvation but every day as a believer. We have the gift of getting to spiritually see all of who God is in Christ. To experience not only His justice and law but His grace and mercy. We get to know Him and be His people. What a beautiful gospel message that not only are our sins forgiven, but in just a closer look and closer walk with Jesus, we are being changed from one degree of glory to another. We are being transformed into the image of God, the fullest image of God found in Jesus.

And perhaps this is what I find so compelling about Rutherford’s words. He was not merely describing Jesus beautifully. He was writing as someone who had been captivated by the beauty he was describing. What we behold shapes what we love, and what we love shapes the way we live. If Christ is truly the fairest object before our eyes, then His beauty ought to begin changing the way we see everything else.

This has begun to shape the way I think about my own writing. In writing about my children, disability advocacy, my ministry, and in all my work in the written word, I desire to behold the beauty of Christ and then help others see what I have seen. I want to write beautifully, expressing the glory and wonder of our God.

I want to write and express how, in my children, I see the beauty and wonder of a God who is a patient and kind heavenly Father who hears us when we cry. I see something of my Father in heaven when I watch my children stumble and fail. My own failing love as a father bursts forth from my heart, telling me that I would never leave or abandon my children. And in those moments, I hear something of the love that my Father in heaven has for me.

I want to write and express the wonder that Christ cares for the broken and hurting. When I look at the life of Jesus and listen to the words that flow from the Holy Spirit from the beginning to the end of the Bible, I see the care and compassion that comes from the heart of God toward children like mine.

And I want to see not only His compassion, but His beautiful wrath. The same God who tenderly cares for the hurting is also a just and righteous God whose wrath against sin is real. When sin enters the world, God is not a wicked judge who sits idly by, but out of an overflow of His love and compassion towards the hurting, slowly and patiently stores up His wrath for the Day of the Lord, when all evil shall be purged away.

There is beauty in the restraint of His anger. And in both my parenting and in my advocacy, I can learn to express godly criticism and channel my anger not from my wrath over slights towards me, but for the good of my children and those like them.

And perhaps this is where beholding Christ changes even something as ordinary as my anger. If I look primarily at the ways I have been wronged, my anger becomes centered on myself. But if I learn to look at the world through the holiness, compassion, and patience of Christ, anger can be redirected toward what harms those I love.

The same is true of ministry. I want to behold the beauty of Christ not only in my home and in the brokenness around me, but in the work of ministry itself.

As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:1:

“Are we beginning to commend ourselves again?”

Paul then turns the entire idea of commendation on its head. The Corinthians themselves are his letter of recommendation, written on his heart and known and read by all. He explains that their lives are a letter from Christ, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God. He then says that our sufficiency is not in ourselves, but comes from God, who has made us ministers of a new covenant.

Paul expresses that to serve God in the ministry of the new covenant, of righteousness, of life, of the removed veil, of proclaiming Jesus Christ as Lord kind of ministry, that all of it is simply a mercy given to us by God to weak and vulnerable men. That we hold this treasure in jars of clay, and the more we are broken by the pains of ministry and the pains of life in this fallen world, we are struck down but not destroyed, persecuted but not abandoned.

Oh, what beauty that God would give us this mercy to see lives transformed from glory to glory. To see drunks trash the bottle, to see marriages restored, to see generations changed from death to life, to see saints live and die well.

What a mercy it is to work, to be worked on in my Father’s workshop as my Father’s piece of art. The more I behold the beauty of Christ, the more I realize that I am not merely looking at something beautiful. I am being made beautiful. The One I behold is the One whose image I am being transformed into.

Knowing that one day I will cast off this earthen vessel and be transformed into the fullness of the glory set aside for me in the name of Jesus Christ. And not only that, everyone that has believed that I have ever led to the Lord Jesus or ministered to imperfectly in this flawed world will be transformed into something so beautiful that the image of it would cause my heart to shudder now at this moment.

What a gift and mercy of our beautiful, beautiful Savior.

Yes, as Rutherford implied, the sun is beautiful, the stars are majestic and stun our hearts and minds at the infinite nature, the flowers cast our eyes down at the beauty and intricacies of their wonder and fragrance, and yet, in comparison to the beauties and wonder of our fairest Lord Jesus, they all fail.

As the hymn says:

Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer
Who makes my woeful heart to sing.

Yet I think what surprised me most was the practical advice I got from older ministers. I would talk to them about where the church, in its practice or doctrine, would differ from what God’s Word says, and I would find myself shocked and discouraged. Essentially, the vast majority of the time, there would be some agreement on the topic, but the attitude had become, “That will never happen here or where I am serving.”

This wasn’t just pastors that I served alongside, but also ministers I would meet in associations and men that I would have looked at as mentors.

I have seen pastors chewed up and spit out by churches firsthand. It is a brutal experience. I have seen pastors attempt to make changes and have seen them shoved back down and been met with calls from those around them to resign.

Ministry is brutal, and I myself have been chewed up and spit out a time or two, yet my desire is to avoid the bitterness that accompanies this.

The first practical step I have taken around this trap has been to stay in the work.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.” — 1 Corinthians 15:58 (ESV)

I have seen pastors consistently leave after 18–36 months. This pushes the problem in both directions. From the pastor’s side, when we leave “because the Lord is calling us,” and by that we mean the obstacles became too much, it conditions us to expect failure and keep hoping things will be better. For the churches, it can destroy the trust in their pastor and end up building systems required to fill the leadership vacuum.

The second practical step I would take is stay. Stay faithful to Christ and His Bride. Watch your life and doctrine.

“Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers.” — 1 Timothy 4:16 (ESV)

Ministry is a fire; it can either purify you or burn you to a crisp. Staying faithful and close to Christ, even when it is tough, enables you to persist in love for the body.

The longer you stay, the more you see God working. Maybe not in those you would expect, but you can see your biggest opponents become your biggest supporters. You can see people who kept their distance start to draw near. Staying close to Christ enables you to forgive and press on. Christ did not abandon His disciples when they spoke foolishly, and He didn’t smite the Pharisees every time they questioned Him. He persistently rebuked and reproved.

The third step out of this trap should not surprise you: it is to stay. Stay in prayer.

“Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.” — Colossians 4:2 (ESV)

Pray that God would expand your love for His people. Look to clear examples in the Apostle Paul’s letters that, despite the flaws in the church, he stays in contact, stays in prayer, and never gives up on the people of God, despite the suffering he endures.

So many pastors get burned out because their vision, theology, and plans don’t come to fruition in the timeline they set in their hearts. If you want your church to be more evangelistic, stay. If you want your church to be better at discipleship, stay. If you feel led to lead your church in disability ministry, stay. If you desire for your church to be healthier and turn toward a more biblical model of ministry, stay. Be faithful and trust the Lord to build his house and grow his people.

Let love conquer the bitterness, and don’t give Satan room to work.

Stay, and stay faithful.

Now, I know many of you reading this are probably saying, “Duh. We believe that God can answer prayers.” There is a difference between affirming the truth and experiencing it. We can affirm that God answers prayer, but believing it is another thing. As I was driving I sincerely was experiencing the joy of the Lord that overcame me with that thought that my Heavenly Father can do it.

I am not saying that our faith or belief is what bends the will of God to act, but instead, our faith is trusting that He is able. “And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us” (1 John 5:14).

This whole experience caused my mind to go in two directions and to see the overlap between them. Jesus, in His teaching on the persistence of prayer, gives the illustration of the annoying neighbor and the persistent widow. The premise is that our prayers should be filled with faith and persistence toward the Lord. Jesus tells us to “ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Matthew 7:7). In the parable of the persistent widow, Jesus teaches that we “ought always to pray and not lose heart” (Luke 18:1).

I have two sons with disabilities. One is non-verbal, and another would best be described as non-conversational. One has physical damage and delays that prevent him from vocalizing, and the other has a great many words but is non-conversational and typically is limited to one-word responses or phrases designed as requests.

Yet none of these limitations have limited their reliance upon me as a father. They cannot often vocalize their desires, but they can make their requests clear to me as their father. Often, I can understand them because my closeness to them helps me to understand what each cough, hand grab, sound, and motion means.

My sons often misunderstand my responses or struggle to express their displeasure with my responses. There are things that I can’t do, there are things I won’t do, and there are things that I won’t do right now. My answers to their requests will be Yes, No, and Wait. Even with the “yes,” their ability to understand the time that it takes me to fulfill their request is hard for them.

How often am I like this myself with my heavenly Father?

My children have childlike faith in me. They believe that there is nothing I cannot do. It breaks my heart when it is something I physically or financially can’t do. It even breaks my heart sometimes when it is something that I won’t do right now, if they cannot understand why I am asking them to wait. But at this phase in life, they still believe that there is nothing I cannot do for them.

What a glory it is to reflect on my heavenly Father. There is really nothing that He cannot do. How wonderful is it that my heavenly Father is a God of love who loves to hear my prayers and loves to answer them. His answers are sometimes “No,” and sometimes they are “Wait,” but how glorious that He really can and does hear us and answer. As Jesus reminds us, if earthly fathers know how to give good gifts to their children, “how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11).

My house is rarely empty between our children, nurses, therapists, teachers, friends, church members, and others. One thing I find funny is how my children have also learned that when I don’t respond immediately, they can get someone else to intercede on their behalf. They have learned to get partners in their crime.

They will ask anyone in our house for what they are looking for. This often leads to me moving with a greater fervency to help answer their request.

In the same way, when I am extremely burdened for something, I can take it to my brothers and sisters in Christ and ask them to join me in prayer. Again, the amount of people praying does not bend the will of God, but it does expand the glory of our God as we seek prayer partners.

Paul, in 2 Corinthians, tells the church at Corinth to pray so that others would see how God delivers and answers, and then we have doubled the glory given to our God. He writes, “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Corinthians 1:11).

The greater my dependence grows on my heavenly Father, the more I find my prayers becoming like my children’s requests: simple, persistent, and believing. Rather than setting out long times for prayer, my prayers become continuous throughout the day. Vacillating between adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and requests, it just flows out and becomes the air that I breathe. Scripture tells us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17), and I have found that this kind of prayer is less about setting aside a particular moment to pray and more about living throughout the day in conscious dependence upon my Father.

Refer a friend

I have found in this season not a solution to all my problems, but just a simple trust that my God knows and hears. A faith that enables me to just keep praying, knowing He can and will answer and do what He knows is best for me. “Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). I trust that He will give me rest, He will use me in ministry, and He will answer the prayers that draw me closer to His heart. Like a good father, He delights to answer the prayers closest to His heart. He delights for me to rely upon Him when I am doing what He has called me to do.

You may not be in this place, and I haven’t always been, but I want you to know it’s there and to help you find the simple joy in it. Just ask. See it when He says yes. Share it when He says yes. Believe He has what’s best in mind for you when He says no or wait. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5).

What a glorious truth: you get the opportunity to go to your heavenly Father in this same way. You can go believing that He can.

Recently, I was reading Good and Angry by David Powlison, and I cannot recommend this book highly enough. He helped me gain the biblical wisdom to face this battle.

I have found within modern Christianity the way this is dealt with is an all-out ignoring of it or attempts at fighting it with therapeutic or worldly techniques. While I can agree that taking a deep breath and assessing your surroundings can help you get ahold of yourself and find self-control, it will not overcome the beast of anger in the long run.

So what is anger? According to Powlison,“Anger is the fighting emotion. Anger is the justice emotion. Anger is the deliver-the-oppressed-from-evil emotion. It stems from love for the needy. All of us come wired with a sense of justice.”

Essentially, it is our emotional response to injustice. Anger flows from love. Anger perceives that something is unjust and attempts to correct it. This makes it a powerful weapon. Yet, as Powlison argues, it comes from the heart of God first.

God is love, and therefore, although He is slow to anger, He responds appropriately to injustice. We are made in His image, and from the moment that we become aware of injustices in this life, specifically those directed toward ourselves, we are able to become angry.

I see this on the daily in my household. Between my three boys, while my wife and I, along with the gifts of friends and family, have more than enough toys, tablets, and attention, as best as possible, to go around, desires and injustices appear to flow on the daily.

One child desires to play with a specific toy, and the other child, unaware, is laying on said toy. This unleashes the fury of a thousand suns from the fists of doom wielded by my three-year-old. Punches and kicks are thrown, and the tears can flow in the few seconds before Mom or Dad can step in to intercede.

You see, my son, just like me, has an overwhelming sense of self-love. He loves himself and values his joys and his pleasure, and so when he perceives an injustice being done to him, he lashes out with anger.

This is the image of God in him, but the image of God tainted by sin. God is a God of justice, and although He is described as slow to anger, He pours out His justice.

Refer a friend

Apathy When We Should Be Angry

Because anger is the justice emotion, if viewed not as something to be harnessed and handled with care but as something to be ignored altogether, then we refuse to direct it in the right direction.

Anger is the fight-for-the-oppressed emotion. This means that as believers in Jesus, we, like Jesus, have the calling to be angry but in control. We must be angry at injustice.

I would argue that our anger is tainted and dangerous because our love is tainted and dangerous. We fail to love what God loves and who God loves, and so our anger flows down at the wrong things.

We get angry at the weather. We get angry at traffic. We get angry at our fellow believers. We get angry at our family. And although we sometimes would be loath to admit it, we get angry at our Creator.

This all happens because our love for ourselves has been distorted, and our love for God and neighbor has failed.

When we seek to see the world and the minutiae of our lives from the heavenly perspective, then the love that flows will be a love that directs us to be slow to anger, controlled in our anger, and directing our anger at the things we need to be angry about.

The Cross

In the cross, we see the ultimate overlap of love and anger in the character of God.

God, in His great love for His own glory and for His creation, hates sin and the destruction that it has brought. He abhors the evils that have destroyed humanity.

Each one of us has committed sins against Him and our fellow human beings, earning us complete separation and suffering in a place called Hell.

Yet God, in His overflowing and abounding love, desired to love us in spite of all of this. So He sent His Son, Jesus, who went willingly to the cross and endured the wrath that we deserve.

When and How to Be Angry

The prime example of Jesus’ anger toward injustice is seen in the cleansing of the temple. In Mark 11:15–17, Jesus enters the temple and drives out those buying and selling. He overturns the tables of the money changers and the seats of those selling pigeons, and He says, “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.”

Jesus was angry because the house of God was intended to be a house of prayer. When the name of our God is blasphemed and turned toward wicked ends, it should anger us.

The Court of the Gentiles was the outer portion of the Temple complex where Gentiles could worship. It was also the area beyond which certain people who were excluded from the inner courts—including those with certain physical disabilities and certain forms of ritual impurity—could not go.

Think about this. The very place where those who could not enter farther into the Temple could come and worship God had become a marketplace.

But notice what Jesus quotes: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations.” The worship of God was being corrupted, and those whom God had invited to worship were being hindered by the very people who were supposed to facilitate that worship.

It angered Him that people were being prevented from coming to God in prayer.

His anger flowed because of His love for people and His love for His Father.

Notice this was not a common occurrence in the life and ministry of Jesus, but His anger came out in other ways, often toward the religious leaders when they were going after the truth or others.

This is where we must be careful as Christians. The answer to our anger is not simply to suppress it. Nor is the answer to unleash it whenever we feel that we have been wronged. We must learn to love what God loves so that we can become angry at what God is angry about.

Our anger is often sinful because our love is sinful. We love ourselves, our comfort, our preferences, our schedules, our possessions, and our reputation. And when those things are threatened, our anger comes roaring out. We call it righteous indignation when, in reality, it is often nothing more than self-love defending its territory.

For us, our anger needs to remain under control and fueled not with a sense of personal vengeance, but slowly approached and slowly executed in love or in service of the truth of our God and the love of others.

The Christian must learn a different kind of anger.

Our anger must be directed toward the right object. It must be motivated by the right love. And it must be expressed according to the will of God.

Jesus gives us the perfect picture. He was angry at hardness of heart because He loved the suffering man. He was angry at the corruption of the temple because He loved His Father and desired that the nations would come and worship Him. His anger was righteous because it was directed toward the right object, motivated by the right love, and expressed according to God’s will.

That is the kind of anger we should seek—not anger that burns everything around us, but anger that burns for the glory of God and the good of others.

“When God closes a door, He opens a window.”

That is found nowhere in Scripture. In fact, the references to an open door don’t even always mean that the door is for you.

Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians, gives the church several updates on his ministry activities as a defense of his actions and as a means of showing the church his love and affection for them.

Paul, in detailing this, describes how when he left and went to Troas, he went to find his brother Titus there and to do some ministry there. In just two verses, he details what led him to leave, and it connects to the heart of what Paul is doing in this letter. It shows us the heart we should have for God’s people and the trust we should have in the Lord.

A Door Opened For Me

This is the same language Paul uses in 1 Corinthians 16 when he says that he stayed in Ephesus because a wide door for effective ministry had been opened to him. Paul was referring there to his ministry in Ephesus, which was arguably one of his most effective seasons of ministry. Acts 19 records that Paul taught daily in the Hall of Tyrannus, and this teaching resulted in the gospel spreading throughout all of Asia. Between those who traveled through, heard the gospel, and went back home and those who would have been trained for ministry during this season, it was a very fruitful season of ministry.

Paul arrives in Troas and says essentially that a door was opened for ministry there. We know from Acts that Troas was a place where Paul had already experienced significant ministry. On another visit, Paul spent time with the believers there, and on the Lord’s Day they gathered together to hear him teach. Paul continued speaking late into the night, and a young man named Eutychus, who was sitting in a window, became drowsy, fell asleep, and fell from the third story. He was taken up dead, but Paul went down, embraced him, and told the believers not to be alarmed because his life was in him. God miraculously restored the young man’s life.

Yet even after this extraordinary event, the believers continued gathering with Paul, and he continued teaching until daybreak.

The Acts account gives us a picture of Troas as a place where Paul had experienced genuine spiritual hunger and fruitful ministry. So when Paul says that a door had been opened for him in Troas, we can understand why this would have appeared to be a significant ministry opportunity.

The door for ministry was open. The ground had been fertilized.

There was every reason to believe that Paul could have continued fruitful ministry there.

Paul, however, does not stay.

My Spirit Was Not at Rest, So I Left

Paul was in turmoil because he had expected Titus to be there, but he wasn’t. Paul expected to hear what God had done at Corinth through Titus, but upon finding this fertile ground for ministry, he does not abandon Titus or the Corinthians.

We don’t learn that Paul had heard from Titus until Chapter 7. Paul feels this deep burden and concern for this church and is working with them through this trial and this issue. Although he did not return to Corinth at this point, he wants them to know that he is being led and motivated by his love for the Corinthians.

Pastoral Application

What Paul does goes so against both the culture of his day and ours. We think that our success is the ultimate marker and determining factor in what we do. If it is ministry, it is the greener pastures of a larger church or a larger influence. In other areas, it may be a larger paycheck or more followers on social media.

For Paul, his guiding principle was the abundant love he had for God’s people and his desire to see God’s mission fulfilled. He trusted and knew that God in Christ was leading him, even if it was away from what looked like surefire success. He was following after Christ, who has all authority in heaven and on earth and who, through His death and resurrection, has brought life and victory through the cross.

If you are in ministry, does your love guide your ministry? What guides you in how you choose to do what God has called you to do? That a question when the church across the state calls and asks you to submit a resume or your looking at resigning on a hard Monday morning.

But it is also a question for the thousands and thousands of little choices you make everyday as a minister. Ministry for some can best be described as an infinite amount of tasks that are possible with an extremely finite number of resources. We have to trust the infinite creator of the universe who has called us into our position to guide us and give us rest each night. In ministry with every yes we are also shouting an infinite number of no’s out into the world. And often this can feel like we are abandoning God’s work in one area for another.

Paul did not view leaving Troas as abandoning God’s work. He immediately follows his account of leaving with these words:

You see, the Apostle Paul was confident in God that, no matter what direction he was led, the aroma of Christ would be evident through his ministry. If you are a believer in Christ seeking to be a faithful witness, trust that Christ, who has authority over all of heaven and earth, has a ministry set aside for you. He works through your love for His people and brings the results He desires in all regions.

In 2008-2009 I was playing sports in high school and like many athletes of that era I looked up to Tim Tebow. I wasn’t a believer but thought if I wore a Necklace with Philippian 4:13 I would get some of that Jesus power that flowed through 15 as he was trucking linebackers and throwing jump passes.

As many have pointed out, this verse isn’t about trucking linebackers because Jesus gives us extra strength but God promises us the strength to press on no matter the circumstances.

I recently read Augustines confessions and I found one of his most cited lines from that book came right next to that famous Tebow verse.

Pelagius took issue with this idea that God would have to give us anything to obey him. Many since him have been arguing over the degree to which God is involved in changing us. I believe the scriptures are clear and Augustine hits the nail on the head for how we should pray. We pray and pursue holiness but do so in the power given to us by Christ.

The strength given us in Christ is the strength to endure poverty, the strength to endure persecution, suffering, heartbreak, disability. This strength has given me the ability to keep going when I want to collapse into tears. It is the strength that enables me to keep fighting my pride and anger when I am running on 2 hours of sleep and have been for the past week. It gives me the strength to love those who have rejected me as a pastor or who have gossiped about me. Philippians 4:13 is more about living faithfully no matter the circumstances.

I remember after Tebow was drafted how frustrating it was listening to all the NFL commentators saying he wasn’t an NFL quarterback. He was the greatest of all time in my book how could these guys doubt him. Yet his NFL carreer amounted to a few highlights and a rather short career, ending in 2013.

Yet now as a minister and a Father I respect Tebow even more. In 2014, the Tim Tebow Foundation launched Night to Shine, with the first event taking place on February 13, 2015. It was created as a prom experience for people with disabilities centered on God’s love. It has since grown into a worldwide movement. It is one of the absolute best parachurch ministries for those with disabilities. He has made children like mine know they have the dignity of being made in the image of God. They have opened the door for churches to be welcoming and loving to those with disabilities. While many look at Tebow and say look how great he was I look at him now and say look at how great our God is. He gives us strength to minister and follow him not matter our circumstances.

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What often ends up happening is that a dangerous divide sneaks into these ministries. Where they are designed to minister specifically to a certain people, those ministries can, without intending to, become dangerous silos, prepared for a spark to set them off into an explosion, or become ultimately ineffective at their full aim of making disciples of all nations.

I am not arguing that affinity-based ministries are wrong. In fact, I believe many of them are necessary and deeply valuable. The problem comes when a ministry designed to serve one part of the body becomes a substitute for participation in the whole body.

Preferences

The first way this happens is through preferences.

In an affinity-based ministry, there is room for the preferences of the affinity to dominate the meeting. Most of these preferences are simply just that: preferences, and there is nothing ultimately wrong with them. It may be music style, room layout, peer groups, or even the way a ministry structures its meetings.

The danger is not that we have preferences. The danger is when our preferences become so central that we are no longer willing to worship, serve, learn, or fellowship outside of them.

The local church is made up of people who are not all like us. That is part of the beauty of the body of Christ.

Lack of Connections

When we limit ourselves to just our peer groups, we often times are doing so to keep ourselves safe.

I know as a disability parent there are many trials and tribulations that my family has gone through that a lot of church members would just not understand. I have heard the hurtful but good-meaning comments. I could fill an entire book with them. So I understand the tendency to drift toward those with similar life experiences as you.

However, in isolating out of fear, we are robbing the church and ourselves of a means of growth God has placed in front of us.

As Proverbs says, “iron sharpens iron” (Proverbs 27:17). The sharpening of iron is not an easy process. It is a painful process of metal slamming into metal.

When I, in love, clear up a misunderstanding of my brother about my son’s disability, I am equipping him to love others better. When I endure with patience miscommunications, I am learning to love them better. When I make a mistake or unintentionally offend someone, I learn and grow.

Some of the very people we are tempted to avoid may be some of the people God intends to use to make us more like Christ.

Missing Powerful Testimonies

Most of the ministry we drift toward is related to where we needed the most help as a believer. This is natural and lines up with what Paul says in 2 Corinthians.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
— 2 Corinthians 1:3–4

This is good, and oftentimes God uses our past as a means of equipping us for the work of ministry.

Yet there is something extremely powerful when someone is serving not out of a sense of “I have been there before,” but out of a genuine love stirred by Christ.

My wife and I have spent a lot of time with other disability ministry advocates, and one of our first questions ends up being, “So who in your family has a disability?”

Some of the best answers come when it is absolutely no one and it was someone who just knew the Scriptures and knew that their God would care.

That happens when a church is not isolating and siloing its ministries. It enables other believers to see the ministry needs and prepares hearts to serve and worship.

When the church gathers across generational lines, it reminds the older saints of their value in the lives of younger people. When we cross affinity groups, it equips the church to serve the whole body.

Abandoning the Body for Its Parts

You see, to abandon the body of Christ for just a segment is to abandon the whole body for its parts.

Paul gives us this picture in 1 Corinthians 12. The church is not one part pretending to be the whole body. It is many members who need one another. “The body does not consist of one member but of many” (1 Corinthians 12:14). Paul goes on to say that “the eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’” (1 Corinthians 12:21).

There can never be true spiritual health for any of us if we are divided from the body.

We are united in Christ. All the walls of separation have been broken down in Christ. Paul says that Christ “has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility” (Ephesians 2:14). We are united by the same Spirit. “For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body” (1 Corinthians 12:13).

This does not mean that every ministry must look the same or that specialized ministries should disappear. It means that every specialized ministry must remember that it is a ministry of the body and not a replacement for the body.

The hand is valuable. The eye is valuable. The foot is valuable. But the hand was never designed to live as though it were the whole body.

And neither were we.

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The standard apologetics verse:

1 Peter 3:15b

always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you;

Some great apologists have made sure to include the immediate context of this verse, saying that we must first “but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy,” and then giving us the methodological advice of doing so “with gentleness and respect.” This is a vital reminder that all of our apologetics is done under the Lordship of Christ and should be done in a spirit of love. But even in this context, we have missed the context that goes even further.

Verses 13–14 state:

Now who is there to harm you if you are zealous for what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled.

One of the most frequent contexts for apologetics is in our suffering. I would add that our suffering itself provides a powerful defense of our faith. Paul develops this connection as well between suffering and hope. In Romans 5, he argues that our own suffering is what leads to our hope.

Romans 5:3–5

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Suffering here is more than just persecution; it is all affliction from the inside and out. It includes persecution but also anxiety, despair, worry, medical suffering, financial suffering, disability, death, and grief. Each one of these, when handled with faith, produces endurance, which produces character and ultimately leads to hope. The hope of the gospel: believing that this world is not our home. That we have something greater prepared for us.

From my own experience, I have found that after every trial that I have faced, it has enabled me to be a stronger witness to our great Savior. In expressing the grief that I have experienced, I have been placed in front of other people made in the image of God who have suffered in similar ways. They have asked me some of the same questions that I have heard from the mouths of the great atheistic debaters, but in reality, it is not the doubt that has cast them down. Instead, it is the weight of the world crushing them, and the doubts provide a foothold for the Devil to keep them from the real hope to be found in Christ. They are asking, “Why?”

I can articulate, in some sense, the ontological argument, teleological argument, Anselm, Augustine, Van Tillian apologetics, and all of those are fantastic ways to argue for the hope that we have. But people are not searching for answers in the academic sense; they are searching for the hope within their soul. I could point to morality, beauty, logic, and the grounding of knowledge, but in Christ, the best apologetic is the hope given to us. A hope that, as C. S. Lewis put it, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

My apologetic message is primarily presuppositional, but perhaps I have misunderstood what that means. I don’t simply presuppose the existence of God when I stand before an atheist and defend the faith. I presuppose that Christ is better than anything this world can offer when the world takes everything away.

I don’t always have an answer for why suffering comes. I don’t always understand what God is doing. Sometimes I don’t even know what to say. But I know that Christ is faithful.

And perhaps that is part of the defense Peter had in mind. The world wants to know why we have hope. Sometimes the best answer we can give is not an argument we have prepared, but a hope that has been tested by suffering and has not failed. The hospital room can become an apologetics classroom. The tears of a Christian can become a testimony. Not because suffering is good in itself, but because Christ remains good in the midst of it.

We do not suffer with hope because we have answers to every question. We suffer with hope because we know the One who does.

And when someone looks at us in the middle of our suffering and asks, “How can you still have hope?” we finally have the opportunity to give the defense we have been preparing for all along:

Because Christ is enough.

Your Perspective

There are a variety of different ways this happens. I will give an example.

You are a relatively active church member who, although you are extremely busy between taking care of your aging mother and your three kids, have a passion that has sparked within you as of late. You just put down your second or third book that you have read on the topic of a specific kind of ministry, or just clicked away from the twelfth article that you have read about the subject. You drive down the street, and the Holy Spirit keeps plucking away at your heart, giving you a growing concern for people you know could be blessed if only your church would get on board.

You have tons of ideas and ways that this could succeed and think of all the people that this will bless. The families that could be reached for the gospel, the hurting that could be served. You are ready to take the bull by the horns and get after it. So you pray and send a message:

Hey Pastor, Can I Talk with You?

He responds quickly and lets you know his availability, and you work out a time to meet. You sit down and begin to unload enthusiastically about the need and what could be done. As he begins to ask questions about time, volunteers, budgets, and insurance, you begin to get slightly frustrated. He suggests a related local parachurch ministry that is currently doing something similar, and you try to explain and just ask him to consider it. He says that he will, but several Sundays have gone by and you haven’t heard anything from him.

Your Pastor’s Perspective

Now place yourself within the pastor’s shoes.

It is a Thursday evening around 9 o’clock, and you know your wife is going to be frustrated that the finance committee meeting ran over again. You sit in your car reflecting on some of the flippant words that had been said to you that day, from the frustrated nursery worker who had to serve two weeks in a row, to the rumor that was spread about your family this past week. Just as you are about to exit your car, you hear the bell sounding and see a name pop up with the dreaded words:

Can I talk to you?

This is the second time this week you have received this message, and the first time did not go well. You had been chewed out for forgetting to announce that the second-grade Sunday School would have a new teacher next week. But you respond quickly and set up the meeting and go inside.

The next day, you are attempting to finish up your sermon for Sunday, but the office is busy with serious and joyful needs. A young man comes by just to chat and ends up talking with you for hours, confessing that he has cheated on his spouse. The treasurer comes by to look over the budget and projected earnings and gossip about last night’s meeting. You skip lunch and work through to get your sermon prepared because you know that meeting is coming up.

The nice church member walks in and just starts unloading her desires to start this new ministry. You see the passion and hear the heart behind it, but you have been here before. People with big ideas come just to dump their ministry on you as one more thing that you are not doing. So you ask questions that you know will come up with this ministry. You are seeking to find the answers, and they don’t seem to have them. So you agree you will consider it and they can talk later.

Three weeks go by, four funerals, a wedding, a multitude of hospital visits, and dozens of planned and impromptu meetings going over exactly what you need to do. Then, at the church door, the nice church member stops you as you are shaking hands at the door and asks if you have considered it. You’re stunned and don’t have an answer. She walks away hurt and frustrated. You wonder if she is going to leave the church.

Where It Went Wrong

This story is not intended to cast blame on either, but to paint the reality that often leads to the hurt and miscommunication in situations like these. I have been on both sides of the scenario. As a pastor now, I can recognize the failures of the pastor above, but I can empathize because I know that for every genuine request for a new ministry, there are dozens and dozens, both inside and outside the church, that are not.

The church member was listening to the Lord and the Holy Spirit and trying to discern how they could do ministry. They were being a biblical church member. They were serving as part of the body of Christ. They were seeking to submit to their pastor’s authority and not go around the leadership in starting a private ministry. All of this is to be commended and more.

The pastor is honestly carrying far too much, but this is honestly where so many pastors are right now. He was right in asking questions and seeking wisdom and insight on what the particular ministry is and if it is right for the church. He asked questions, making sure that the church is not duplicating what another church is doing. He recognized the need and did not shut the person down.

Where it all broke down was in the gaps. The communication of each was missing the heart behind the other. The pastor was carrying the burdens of everything and filtering that conversation through that lens. The church member was excited but also was not aware of the knowledge and passion gap and is disappointed that the pastor was not as excited as they were.

Guide for Your Approach

1. Remember Your Pastor Is Just a Man

Your pastor is not going to know everything about your ministry idea, and he may not immediately see what you see. Remember that he is a man who is trying to faithfully shepherd the church with the knowledge and understanding that he has.

2. Clearly Communicate Your Idea Before Meeting

Do not make your pastor try to pull the idea out of you through twenty questions. Clearly communicate what you are seeing, why you believe it matters, and what you think this ministry could look like before you ever sit down with him. A pro tip: don’t ask just to talk. Ask, “Can I meet with you about __________ ministry opportunity? I just finished reading __________ and want to work together.”

3. Be Prepared for Questions

When your pastor starts asking questions about volunteers, budgets, insurance, space, or time, do not assume that he is trying to shut the idea down. These are the questions he is responsible for asking, and you should be prepared to help him find the answers.

4. Clearly Communicate Your Commitment to Serve

One of the biggest questions your pastor is probably asking is, “Who is going to do this?” Be willing to communicate clearly that you are not simply bringing another ministry for your pastor to add to his list, but that you are willing to serve and help make it happen.

Your pastor cannot and should not do everything, but he is called to equip and serve alongside others. Paul reminds us that pastors and teachers are given “to equip the saints for the work of ministry” (Eph. 4:11–12). The goal isn’t for your pastor to do the ministry for you. Part of his responsibility is to equip you to do the work of ministry. Letting him know that someone will help carry the load will make him more likely to be willing to help.

5. Be Willing to Start Small

Be willing to start small, serve the families God has already placed in front of you, and allow the ministry to grow as the Lord provides people, resources, and opportunities. Don’t try to take on more than you can handle, but seek to grow within the structure you are planted in.

Conclusion

I realize this is assuming the best of intentions from both the church member and the pastor, and that definitely isn’t always the case. Your ministry idea may be great, but it may not be the right time or the right place. It may be misguided or not realistic. Your pastor may be theologically in the wrong or personally in the wrong.

But before you get to any of these things, having a clear view of the communication can help both of you work this out together.

As Jesus prayed to the Father in John 17:

“That they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” — John 17:21

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I am extremely burdened by the weight of what I carry as a pastor and as a disability and medical father. In a recent disability ministry training, we were discussing how to practically minister to others. An extremely helpful statement was made: “Don’t say, ‘Let me know if I can do anything to help,’ because most families will not let you know.”

Anyone who has gone through a struggle knows that the number of people who say that and the number of people who mean it are two completely different things.

When we were discussing this in our small group, I told those within my group what I later confessed to the church: I have, on hundreds of occasions, shown up to church and said that things were going great when, in reality, my life was collapsing around me.

Yet as I have been reading 2 Corinthians, I have realized that the Apostle Paul took an entirely different tactic. He was bold and honest about his suffering and his weaknesses.

Yet the same Apostle says that Christians should “do all things without grumbling or disputing” (Philippians 2:14).

So how do you talk about what is really going on in your life without grumbling? How do you unload the burdens you are carrying without complaining?

Paul gives us an answer in 2 Corinthians 1:3–5:

Paul lays out his afflictions in the next few verses, describing how he was “utterly burdened beyond our strength” and that he “despaired of life itself.”

Paul will later go into even greater detail about his sufferings as he defends his apostleship. In 2 Corinthians 11:23–28, he writes:

Paul is not wallowing here. He is not grumbling.

The difference comes in what his purpose is in sharing his burden.

Paul’s purpose is to boast in the Lord. As Paul suffers and details his sufferings, he is boasting that it is his weakness and suffering that bring glory to God and comfort to the church.

In chapter 1, he details how God, being the God of all comfort, is able to give him exactly what he needs to be comforted in every situation. He then explains that by sharing his suffering, he is also sharing the comfort he has received from Christ.

That changes the way we should think about sharing our suffering.

If you are tempted, like I have been, to be silent, then you know the fear that others will not know how to react. Maybe they will say something hurtful or offensive. Maybe they will offer some shallow answer to a burden they cannot possibly understand. Maybe they will simply not know what to say.

But we cannot let that fear rob us of the comfort that comes from sharing in Christ.

If we don’t share the hardship honestly, we cannot boast of the comfort. If we don’t share the sickness, we cannot boast of the miracle. If we don’t acknowledge the weakness, we cannot boast in the strength of Christ.

Paul did not hide his suffering because he was afraid that people might misunderstand him. He brought his suffering into the light because he knew that the God who had sustained him through it was worthy of being known.

Maybe part of the reason I have been so willing to tell my church that everything is fine is I fear being a burden or drawing attention to myself. But Paul shows us a better way and a better reason. Our affliction is intended for the blessing of others.

Faith does not require us to pretend that we are not suffering. Faith allows us to say, “I am suffering, and God is comforting me.” There is no boasting in pretending that the burden is light. The boasting comes when we carry the burden honestly and point people to the One who carries us.

Perhaps the church does not need Christians who pretend they have everything together. Perhaps it needs Christians who are willing to say, “I am weak. I am hurting. I do not know what God is doing. But I know that He is the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort.”

We do not share our suffering so that people will feel sorry for us. We share it so that we can point them to Christ.

Because the comfort we receive from Christ was never meant to stop with us.

As we come to the very end of summer, the Little League World Series is about to kick off. A glorious gift from the Lord is seeing kids enjoy a wonderful game. There is something good about watching children play baseball, compete, work hard, learn to win and lose, and enjoy the abilities that God has given them. But with any good gift, this can be distorted. James reminds us that “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). Baseball is a good gift. Competition can be a good gift. Watching our children succeed can be a good gift. But good gifts make terrible gods.

This year, in the Southwest Region, there have been major accusations of cheating. Now this isn’t the cheating of the adult sports world with performance-enhancing drugs, tactical espionage, doctored equipment, or money laundering. This is far more insidious because these are adults who are supposed to be teaching children how to play a game, but more importantly, they are supposed to be teaching children right from wrong. Currently, these are all allegations, and we should be careful not to declare anyone guilty before the facts are established. But if even a small fraction of them prove to be true, then they are horrendous.

The story coming out of the Southwest Region this year is almost unbelievable. Tulsa National defeated Louisiana 3-2 and appeared to have advanced to the regional final. Then they were disqualified because of an alleged ineligible player. Suddenly, Texas West and Louisiana were playing what was effectively the regional championship. Texas West won 4-1 and believed they were going to Williamsport. Then everything changed again. A temporary restraining order reinstated Tulsa and required Texas West to play Tulsa for the regional championship. Texas West had already burned through its pitching because they believed the tournament was over, and some players and parents were already on their way home when the announcement came.

Then the allegations became even more serious. The protest against Tulsa National reportedly includes allegations that the league manipulated the Challenger program, a Little League division specifically designed for children with disabilities, in order to establish player eligibility. There are also allegations that GameChanger records were deleted or changed after the original protest, potentially making it more difficult to determine who actually participated during the regular season. Again, these are allegations, not proven facts. But if they are true, this isn’t simply a technical violation of a Little League rule. It would mean adults used a program intended to serve children with disabilities in order to gain a competitive advantage. That is an inexcusable moral failure.

And that is what bothers me most about this story. This is not a one-off, but a result of years and years of moral decline connected to youth sports. I was a teenager when this world began to develop. Parents began to realize that for children with a slightly elevated skill level to face more difficult competition, it would require traveling outside of their region to compete. This has exploded into a multi-million-dollar industry with travel sports, training camps, equipment, private coaching, and tournaments. And while in and of itself there is again nothing wrong with seeking stronger competition and growth in an athletic competition, the twist comes when the pursuit of that good thing begins to control everything else.

The first thing to be sacrificed for many was the normal rhythms of the family. Then came the normal rhythms of community. For believers, one of the first things on the chopping block was Wednesday Night Church, and then Sunday Morning Worship. We begin telling ourselves that this one tournament is important, so church can wait. This one game matters, so family can wait. This opportunity may never come again, so everything else has to move out of the way. Eventually we aren’t simply arranging our lives around baseball. Baseball is arranging our lives for us.

Paul tells Timothy that “bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way” (1 Timothy 4:8). Notice that Paul did not say bodily training has no value. It does. There is value in discipline, hard work, training, and competition. There is value in learning how to work toward something and how to handle both success and failure. But Paul is reminding Timothy that something matters more. There is something that lasts longer than a championship and matters more than a trophy.

This vicarious desire for glory and placing our children and their achievements in the role reserved for God damages not only the moral compass of those involved but also the children themselves. We tell ourselves that we are doing it for them. We tell ourselves they have an opportunity that we never had. We tell ourselves they are talented and that we don’t want to waste their potential. But there comes a point when the child ceases to be a child and becomes a vehicle for the parent’s ambitions.

That is where I think the real danger is. The child becomes the thing through which we are trying to find our own glory. Their success becomes our success. Their failure becomes our embarrassment. Their achievement becomes a statement about us. What started as a love for baseball can become something much darker without us even realizing it.

Jesus asked, “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36). We usually apply that verse to money, fame, or power, but the principle reaches much further. What does it profit our children to become great athletes if we have taught them that their value is found in what they accomplish? What does it profit a child to make it to Williamsport if getting there required his parents to teach him that winning is more important than telling the truth? What have we really gained if our child learns how to win but never learns how to worship?

I have watched it happen on a small scale, and I can guarantee you that the children of this Oklahoma team have been failed in a multitude of ways if these allegations prove to be true. That doesn’t mean those children are bad. They are twelve-year-old kids who are caught in the middle of decisions made by adults. They didn’t create the rules. They didn’t determine their eligibility. They didn’t decide what records should be entered or changed. They are simply kids who want to play baseball.

And they only get one chance to be twelve.

That is what makes this story so tragic. If adults manipulated eligibility, falsified records, or otherwise cheated to get these children to Williamsport, they didn’t simply break a baseball rule. They potentially robbed other twelve-year-old children of their one opportunity to experience the same thing. The teams Oklahoma defeated in the state tournament will never know what might have happened if the rules had been followed. Those players don’t get another year at twelve. They don’t get a do-over. Childhood doesn’t come with a replay button.

So I don’t think we should simply look at this as a captivating sports story. We ought to look at it and ask what it says about us.

As a parent, have I placed my children and their success on an altar or pedestal they were never meant for? Am I willing to sacrifice their health, their image, their relationships, or even their childhood on the altar of my worship? Am I more concerned with my child becoming a great athlete than becoming a faithful Christian? Am I teaching my child that winning is important, or am I teaching them that Christ is more important than winning?

Paul gives us the proper perspective when he says, “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). That includes baseball. It includes Little League. It includes the Little League World Series. The answer is not to keep our children away from sports. The answer is to put sports where they belong.

Baseball is not God. Our children’s accomplishments are not God. Their opportunities are not God. And our desire to see them succeed cannot be allowed to become more important than our responsibility to teach them to love Christ, tell the truth, love their neighbor, and walk faithfully before the Lord.

Every good gift becomes dangerous when we ask it to give us what only God can give.

The human heart is a factory of idols. As parents, we need to be very careful what we put on the altar.

I was trained like every good red-blooded American to hate the New York Yankees, and as a Braves fan, I have nothing but animosity in my heart toward the Mets and Phillies. (As a Christian, I want to be clear: this is directed at the idea of them and not any individual player, fan, or coach.)

Yet it is none of these foul teams that are currently on the verge of destroying my favorite sport. I believe the culprit behind it is a tactic that, for the last several decades, has been a running joke of the sport.

Deferred Payments

The most famous case of deferred payments was that of Bobby Bonilla, who every year on July 1 was paid $1,193,248.20 by the New York Mets, despite the fact that he has been retired for 25 years and has not played for the Mets since 1999. Every year this was met with laughter, “Why are the Met’s still paying this guy?”

The Dodgers currently have $1.1 billion in deferred payments. This is intended to help players skirt the current tax problems and allow the organization the opportunity to essentially save that money and pay it out later. I don’t know the Dodgers’ long-term plan or the ins and outs of how this will work financially, but it has enabled them to essentially purchase the very best players the very second they become available.

As a baseball fan, I fear that this will inevitably lead to another lockout and less baseball next season. As a Christian, it has caused me to reflect on the concept itself and reminded me of my own destiny.

Deferred payments essentially are a promise that the work that you are doing now will be paid out later. Most of us understand this concept. Our banks do not automatically start filling up the moment we clock in at work. We typically wait until the end of the week, two weeks, or month and get paid in one lump sum for the time worked. We do the work with the promise of the reward. We trust that our payment will arrive. Yet the longer you have to agree to wait, the greater the trust has to be.

The MLB Collective Bargaining Agreement allows teams and players to agree to significant deferred compensation, but the money does not necessarily have to be sitting in an account waiting to be paid. This means that while the promise made is contractually binding, the future payment still depends upon the organization being able to fulfill that obligation. However, even with that, the value of the dollar is not guaranteed, and the stability of the market and government to enforce these contracts must be trusted.

Our Deferred Payments

As Christians, the Scriptures promise us a great deal, including not only the forgiveness of sins, adoption into the family, justification, sanctification, glorification, and so much more. Yet, on top of all of that, we are promised rewards. Just look at a handful of these verses.

Matthew 6:19–21 (ESV)

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in or steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Luke 14:13–14 (ESV)

“But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.”

Colossians 3:23–24 (ESV)

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.”

The Bible is clear that we are not working to earn our place in heaven. We know that our salvation is “by grace” and “through faith.” Yet this does not preclude God from giving us the rewards promised to us in His new creation.

As a father, there is nothing my children had to do to be my children. But as a good father, when I make a promise to them, I attempt to keep it. I reward them and rejoice in giving the rewards to them. If I tell them that if they help pick up the floor, we can have ice cream, and they do not pick up the floor, it does not mean that they immediately stop being my sons. If they do pick up their toys, they have not earned being my children; rather, they have worked for the reward.

Trusting the Promiser

This is where I think the comparison between deferred payments and the Christian life gets really interesting.

The longer the payment is deferred, the more we have to trust the one who made the promise. When we get paid at the end of the week, we don’t spend much time worrying about whether our employer is going to pay us. We have probably seen the money hit our account dozens or hundreds of times before. But when the payment is pushed years or even decades into the future, the promise requires a greater measure of trust.

This is why the Dodgers can offer a player an enormous amount of money that he will not receive for years. The player is trusting that the Dodgers will still be there, that the contract will still be honored, and that the money will still be worth something when it finally arrives.

But the Christian’s deferred payment is different.

We are trusting in a God who does not change. We are trusting in a God who cannot lie. We are trusting in a God who has never broken a promise and who cannot fail to fulfill the promises He has made to His children.

Hebrews 10:23 tells us, “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”

Our confidence is not ultimately found in the reward itself. Our confidence is found in the One who promised the reward.

God has promised us an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. He has promised resurrection. He has promised glorification. He has promised that we will be with Christ. He has promised that death will be defeated. He has promised a new heavens and a new earth. He has promised rewards for faithfulness.

And we wait.

Waiting for the Reward

The immediacy of the reward is not the motivator of the Dodgers who are playing right now. They are sacrificing their current payment to enable their team to have the best ability to go get other good players and win right now.

As believers, we sacrifice our current rewards that this world has to offer for glory far beyond championships, but the glory of our heavenly Father.

We give because we know there is a greater treasure. We endure because we know there is a greater reward. We suffer because we know there is a glory that far outweighs the suffering of this present age. We refuse the temporary pleasures of sin because we believe that what God has promised us is better.

The Dodgers are willing to wait for their money because they believe the promise is worth waiting for. How much more should we be willing to wait when the One who made our promise is God Himself?

The Dodgers can win a World Series. They can collect championships, trophies, and millions of dollars. But eventually every one of those things will pass away. Our reward will not. The Christian life is, in many ways, a life of deferred payment. We work now. We give now. We suffer now. We endure now. We serve now. And we wait.

But we do not wait because we are uncertain whether God will keep His promise. We wait because we know He will. The payment has been deferred, but the promise has been made.

And He who promised is faithful.

You see, Jacob was actively on the run from Esau and was preparing to face his brother, whom he had deceived and who he believed desired to kill him. So Jacob prayed:

“Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack me, the mothers with the children. But you said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’” Genesis 32:11–12 (ESV)

Jacob’s prayer was for deliverance and growth, but God was moving in much bigger and grander ways than Jacob was expecting. He prayed to be delivered and would have been delighted if God had simply moved Esau out of the land. But God knew what he needed was much deeper than simply a change in his fortune. He needed a change in his heart.

24 And Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. 25 When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26 Then he said, “Let me go, for the day has broken.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” 27 And he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” 28 Then he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” 29 Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. 30 So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.” 31 The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip. 32 Therefore to this day the people of Israel do not eat the sinew of the thigh that is on the hip socket, because he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip on the sinew of the thigh.

Jacob was alone, and in very concise detail, the Scripture tells us that a man wrestled with him. Jacob, in his fear, would have assumed that this was Esau coming to attack him in the night. They wrestled and fought for hours. Jacob, in his determination to defeat who he believed was his brother, did not give up. Yet after hours and hours of fighting, the man touched his hip socket and put his hip out of joint.

While the pain would have been immense, the shock of what happened when his mind finally caught up after the pain would have been even greater. This man, whom he thought was an even match, had just been playing with him for hours. He now knew this was something greater than a man that he was wrestling with. He then moved from wrestling to defeat his brother to pursuing the true blessing of God and seeing Him face to face.

This wrestling scene in the Bible, in some sense, makes me chuckle because I am reminded of the roughhousing I do with my own kids. Sometimes my youngest will take it too far and begin to get angry and aggressive. He is three years old, and so for me, as a fully grown man, fighting him is not hard. As a father, I sit there and patiently block each one of his attempted blows and instruct him until he calms down, but there eventually comes a point where I have to remind him of who I am. The stunned look on his face when he remembers that we are not equals and that I can pick him up and restrain him quite quickly—this is the look I see on Jacob’s face in my mind. My child will often come to me after these emotional outbursts and desire closeness and affection. This is what Jacob was pursuing: the true blessing and relationship with the Father.

As Timothy Keller put it in a sermon on the topic, “You can never have a real life change unless something comes in and shakes the fundamental foundations of your life.” And in that moment, Jacob realized he had been fighting with God the whole time. He needed to fight for the blessing of God and seeing Him face to face. This is what repentance looks like. He has turned from wrestling against God and His will to wrestling to see God. The moment of pain and the lifetime of pain thereafter were reminders of the most powerful moment of his life.

As Keller puts it, “God almost always has to wound you to show you your need.” For Jacob, that wound was physical and a lifelong reminder of the grace and mercy of God. His dislocated hip would have caused him to limp the rest of his life, leaving him without stability in his walk and making him very prone to random collapses. Yet that one moment answered his prayers. His disability was the answer that he needed to help him genuinely pursue God.

Thomas Watson, in his comments on Romans 8:28, says, “Jacob wrestled with the angel, and the hollow of Jacob’s thigh was out of joint. This was sad; but God turned it to good, for there he saw God’s face, and there the Lord blessed him. ‘Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, for I have seen God face to face’ (Genesis 32:30). Who would not be willing to have a bone out of joint, so that he might have a sight of God?”

For me, I have a multitude of things that I look back on now and genuinely feel the pain they caused and the pain that still lingers. Yet, with perspective, I can say that it was a mercy of God. Watching my son be placed upon life support right in front of me was genuinely traumatic. I still awake with nightmares, thinking I am back in that room. Yet that lingering pain reminds me of the grace of God and the ways He has moved and shown Himself more and more to me each and every day. I watch as God has answered my prayers time and time again with limps rather than full deliverance and yet the limps are far better.

I think of the ever-present, revolving grief that comes with having children with disabilities rises and falls. Like Jacob after his hip was put out of joint, there are days when I am okay and am just limping by, and then there are days when the pain and grief crash into me and I collapse. Yet I can genuinely say that the grief and pain are worth it and are working for my good and His glory because they are keeping me on my knees, begging God to show me His face. The good news is that He does.

Pictured here is a young lady who took her faith and made it public in Baptism this Sunday.

Throughout Scripture, God has given His people visible actions through which He communicates His promises to us and through which we communicate our faith to Him. In the New Covenant, Christ has given His church baptism. In baptism, the invisible realities of the gospel are made visible. The truths of the gospel pass not only before our ears but over our whole bodies. The spiritual reality that we have been united with Christ is portrayed as we are buried beneath the water. As Paul asks, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Romans 6:3). He continues, “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead… we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). Just as we do not remain beneath the water, those who are united to Christ will not remain under the power of death. We will rise because He has risen. As Paul concludes, “If we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Romans 6:5). This is God’s communication to us. He has promised us His faithfulness.

The Fear Before the Water

I often counsel people who are preparing to take this next step of faith. Almost every conversation eventually arrives at fear. The lies of the enemy abound in this season of life, often whispering reasons why obedience should wait just a little longer.

For some, there is the fear of the physical process. They fear the water or the vulnerability of trusting another person to lower them beneath it. For others, there is the fear of the judgment of family and friends. Standing before others and publicly identifying with Christ feels overwhelming. Still others fear something deeper. They fear that one day they will fail. They fear that they will not remain faithful and that their baptism will become a testimony against them.

Of all these fears, this last one is perhaps the most realistic. We are frail and faulty creatures. Left to ourselves, we know our own weakness. We know our wandering hearts. We know how often we have made promises only to break them. That fear is not imaginary. It is born from an honest understanding of who we are apart from the sustaining grace of God.

What Baptism Says

Yet this is precisely why baptism is such a beautiful gift.

When we step into the water, our actions communicate our faith. We are trusting that it is God who buries us and raises us. We willingly submit ourselves to another because salvation is not something we accomplish for ourselves; it is something we receive from Christ. Even the act of baptism reminds us that we do not save ourselves. We are acted upon by the grace of God before we ever accomplish anything for Him.

When we step into the water before the eyes of others, we declare that we fear Christ more than we fear the opinions of people. We publicly identify with the One who publicly gave His life for us and publicly rose again. Every baptism is a visible confession that Jesus Christ is worth following regardless of the opinions of the crowd.

And when we step into the water despite our fear of future failure, we are not declaring confidence in ourselves. We are declaring confidence in God’s promise. Romans 6 does not point us to the strength of our resolve but to the certainty of our union with Christ. We trust that what He has begun in us, He will bring to completion. Our hope is not in the strength of our grip on Christ but in the strength of His grip on us. Baptism is not ultimately a declaration that we will never fail; it is a declaration that Christ will never fail those who belong to Him. The God who united us to Christ in His death has also promised that we will share in His resurrection.

Faith That Speaks

The fears are not overcome because we suddenly become brave. They are overcome because faith moves us to obedient action. We step into the water while our knees still tremble because our confidence has shifted away from ourselves and onto the promises of God.

All behavior is communication.

In baptism, our obedience communicates our trust in Christ. In baptism, God’s appointed sign communicates His unfailing promise to all who are united to His Son. As we confess Him before the world, He reminds us of His covenant faithfulness. In the waters of baptism, both heaven and earth speak—our faith declaring our trust in Christ, and God declaring His unchanging promise to those who are united to His Son.

Refer a friend

You go to buy a new car. You want something functional but something unique. In our modern American culture, your car is so closely connected with how we and others around us view us. For most of us, we can spot our friends and family from the road easily because we can spot their vehicle.

So, finally, after the agonizing process of test driving, haggling down prices, being oversold, and manipulated, you drive off the lot and do whatever you can to convince yourself that you made the right choice. Yet now, as you are driving this car that you convinced yourself was unique, it is all of a sudden popping up everywhere. Not just the car, but your car in the exact color. If you had asked yourself if you had seen that exact car before, you would’ve said maybe once or twice, but now it feels like every vehicle is that same car.

This is the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. There were always that many cars just like yours, but now your brain is primed to see them. The same thing can happen in our vocabulary. When we hear a word for the first time and we do the work to look it up and find out exactly what it means, we start seeing or hearing it everywhere. You pick up a book that you know you have read before, and there is that word. You talk to someone, and all of a sudden they are saying the word—a word that you were not even aware of until just a little while ago.

The most common reason this happens is that our attention span is limited, and we only have the ability to process so much. When you are driving, very rarely are you counting the number of cars that are a specific make or model. You are, hopefully, focused on driving and avoiding unnecessary distractions.

For those of us who are parents of children with disabilities, we may not be familiar with the phrase Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, but the idea is burned into our brains. We know our kids, and we live with their diagnosis around the clock. Now that we are aware of it, we start rethinking everything in light of it and seeing all of the missed cues around us with the people that we love. We start to realize the number of people we know who are on the autism spectrum. We are not official doctors, but the signs are there, and now they seem to shine like a bright light that we cannot look away from. I can see the kid not making eye contact. I can clock the facial features of William syndrome from a mile away. I see the struggling young person who is labeled as a problem as made in the image of God and it causes may be something they can’t even help it.

Those with disabilities are all around you. From the visible disabilities like those with mobility challenges to the invisible disabilities often ignored, undiagnosed, or mislabeled. I am not asking you to become a doctor or to try and diagnose everyone but you need to see everyone made in the image of God for who they are.

C.S. Lewis said “to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.” It begins with seeing them.

If you are a Christian, I want to encourage you to take a second and truly look at those around you. See them as made in the image of God. Do not ignore their disabilities and limitations. See them. Really see them. Start to pay attention.

This is the first step in Christ-like behavior. Over and over again in the Gospels, we see Jesus seeing—truly seeing—people, regardless of their social status, ability, or past.

Mark 10:46-52 illustrates this well.

And they came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you.” And throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man said to him, “Rabbi, let me recover my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.

Those with Jesus did not want the blind man to be seen or heard but Jesus saw and heard him. You cannot love, serve, or minister to those you don’t see. Are we so busy and focused on our own issues that we miss those whom God has placed around us to bless? The people have always been there. The question is whether our eyes are open to see them.

The question that has challenged me recently is not how we define an active member, but how people become one. We often assume that if someone wants to be involved, they simply will. They will sign up, introduce themselves, volunteer, and find their place. While there is certainly personal responsibility involved, I wonder if we have unintentionally shifted too much of the burden onto the individual. The New Testament repeatedly describes the church as a body, a family, and a household. Paul writes that we are “members one of another” (Romans 12:5), that we are “members of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19), and that we have been joined together as one body in Christ (1 Corinthians 12:12-27). Those images suggest that belonging is not merely something someone achieves but something the church actively cultivates.

Over the years, I have noticed that the people who most naturally become deeply involved in church life are often those who were already discipled well somewhere else. They understand the rhythms of church life. They know how to enter conversations, volunteer for ministries, and build relationships. They arrive already speaking the language of church culture. But what about the person who does not? What about the new believer, the socially awkward individual, the widow, the young adult who has moved to town, or the person living with a disability? If our only expectation is that they figure it out on their own, we should not be surprised when many remain on the fringes for years.

Last week, during our association’s disability ministry training, Randy Schwartz shared an illustration that has remained with me. He described a man named Gary who faithfully attends church every Sunday. Gary worships, listens attentively to the sermon, and then quietly leaves. He doesn’t attend Sunday School, doesn’t serve on a committee, and few people know him beyond a polite greeting in the hallway. To most of the congregation, Gary simply appears to be reserved.

However, when someone finally takes the time to ask Gary about his experience, an entirely different picture emerges. Gary struggles to build friendships because of an invisible disability. He may or may not have a formal diagnosis; he may simply have difficulty connecting with others. No one has ever invited him to sit with them, included him outside of Sunday morning, or helped him discover a place to serve. He cannot attend Wednesday night because he lacks transportation, and over time he has quietly concluded that he probably has little to contribute because of his disability or his social limitations.

What strikes me most about Gary’s story is that none of his barriers are architectural, theological, or constitutional. The church has not intentionally excluded him. There is no policy preventing him from belonging. Instead, the barriers are relational. Everyone assumes Gary prefers to be left alone because he is quiet. Meanwhile, Gary assumes no one wants to know him because no one has ever pursued him. Those assumptions reinforce one another until isolation simply becomes normal.

That is why, in many ways, it honestly does not matter whether Gary has a disability or not. If we are truly the body of Christ, then the weight is on us to meet him where he is and bring him along with us. Paul reminds us that “the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22). He goes on to say that God has ordered the body “that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another” (1 Corinthians 12:25). An alone person in a church should concern us because isolation is contrary to God’s design for His people. We are not simply individuals who happen to worship in the same room each week. We are members of one body and brothers and sisters adopted into one family. Families notice when someone is sitting alone.

This is one of the reasons I believe disability ministry is about far more than accessibility, sensory rooms, or specialized programming. Those ministries are important and often necessary, but they are not the end goal. The goal is belonging that leads to full participation. It is helping every member of Christ’s body develop meaningful relationships and discover the gifts God has given them to build up the church. The early church “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship” (Acts 2:42), and Luke goes on to describe believers who shared life together, cared for one another, and met one another’s needs. Fellowship was never an optional ministry of the church; it was one of its defining characteristics.

This kind of ministry cannot be accomplished solely by a pastor or the deacons or that one welcoming lady on the greeter team. It requires an entire congregation that sees people, pursues them, and refuses to let them remain invisible. Hebrews 10:24-25 tells us to “consider how to stir up one another to love and good works.” That command requires intentionality. We cannot stir up those we never notice, encourage those we never know, or bear the burdens of those whose names we have never learned (Galatians 6:2).

As I reflected on Randy’s illustration, I found myself asking a different question. How many “Garys” have I unknowingly walked past? How many have mistaken my friendly greeting for genuine fellowship while quietly wondering if anyone really knows them? Perhaps one of the healthiest questions we could ask every Sunday is not simply, “Did I enjoy worship today?” but rather, “Who is still standing alone, and how can I invite them into the life of the body?” Sometimes the most profound act of ministry is not preaching another sermon or launching another program. Sometimes it is simply walking across the sanctuary, introducing yourself, and saying, “Would you sit with us today?”

Perhaps the greatest measure of a healthy church is not simply how many people attend but how many people truly belong. Jesus told His disciples, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). If our churches are to bear faithful witness to Christ, then we must become places where no one is left to worship alone for long. Our theology of the church must be matched by our practice of being the church.

Refer a friend

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Last Saturday, I had the privilege of sharing our family’s story on my friend Tony Martinez’s podcast.

The heart behind everything I write and say is simple: to encourage every believer to find rest in the God of the universe who is sovereign over every circumstance. No matter what you have walked through or are walking through, God is at work, accomplishing His gracious purposes in your life.

Give it a listen and I know you will be blessed.

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What we miss is that God has not promised us the complete escape or abandonment of this creation but the complete renewal of this creation. As Randy Alcorn observes, "God has never given up on His original creation... He chose to redeem what He started with—the heavens, the earth, and mankind—to bring them back to His original purpose. God is the ultimate salvage artist." That captures the trajectory of the biblical story. God does not abandon His creation; He restores it.

One of the most surprising places we see that promise is tucked away in the book of Zephaniah.

Zephaniah, writing during the reign of Judah’s last righteous king, delivered a message of coming judgment. His prophecy warned not only Judah but also the surrounding nations that the Day of the Lord was approaching. Yet like many of the prophets, Zephaniah’s vision extends beyond the immediate future. His warnings of Babylon’s invasion become a shadow of the greater and final Day of the Lord when God will judge the whole earth and establish His everlasting kingdom.

One such promise appears in Zephaniah 2:9:

“Therefore, as I live,” declares the LORD of hosts,
the God of Israel,
“surely Moab shall become like Sodom,
and the Ammonites like Gomorrah,
a land possessed by nettles and salt pits,
and a waste forever.
The remnant of my people shall plunder them,
and the survivors of my nation shall possess them.”

Moab and Ammon are condemned for their pride and rebellion. Their fate will resemble that of Sodom and Gomorrah—complete devastation. Yet the prophecy does not end with judgment. God promises that His remnant will inherit what once belonged to these nations.

Here we encounter an important question.

After Babylon conquered Judah and the exiles eventually returned under Zerubbabel, Ezra, and Nehemiah, Scripture never records Judah conquering Moab or Ammon or permanently possessing their land. In fact, both nations gradually faded from history under successive world empires.

Was God’s promise left unfulfilled?

Certainly not.

Because this promise rests not upon Israel’s obedience but upon God’s own oath: “As I live,” declares the LORD. The certainty of its fulfillment is grounded in the character of God Himself.

The answer begins with understanding the identity of the remnant.

Paul addresses this very theme in Romans 11. Although many in Israel rejected their Messiah, God had not rejected His people. Just as in Elijah’s day, when God preserved seven thousand who had not bowed the knee to Baal, there remained a remnant chosen by grace. Paul goes further, explaining that believing Gentiles have now been grafted into the same olive tree. The Church is not a replacement for God’s people but the continuation of God’s redeemed people, made up of believing Jews and believing Gentiles united in Christ.

This sheds light on Zephaniah’s promise.

The inheritance was never ultimately about Moab alone.

Throughout Scripture the promised land itself points beyond Canaan to something greater. Jesus declared after His resurrection, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” before commissioning His disciples to make disciples of all nations. The risen King has begun claiming His inheritance from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation. The nations are now being “plundered,” not through military conquest, but through the triumph of the gospel as sinners are rescued from the kingdom of darkness and brought into the kingdom of Christ.

Yet even that is not the end of the promise.

The prophets consistently look beyond the present age to the renewal of all things. The inheritance promised to Abraham grows from a strip of land in Canaan to the whole renewed creation. As Jesus Himself promised, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

God’s people will indeed inherit the nations—not merely their territory, but everything that sin has corrupted and Christ has redeemed.

That raises another question. If Christ Himself is our greatest treasure, what place do these gifts have?

In heaven the ultimate joy will be found in rejoicing in who Christ is and in His presence, yet in our relationship with Him we will find that He has given us more than Himself to be enjoyed. These gifts, much like the gifts that I give my children, are not intended simply to make the child tell me how great I am, nor are they meant to be enjoyed apart from me. The gifts are given to become a shared joy—my joy in giving, their joy in receiving, and our shared joy in the strengthening of our relationship.

All of God’s gifts, big and small, are intended to do this.

Every good gift we enjoy today is only a small foretaste of what is coming. From the freshest sip of coffee, to the smooth drive of a well-functioning car, to the softness of a perfect pillow, every good gift whispers something about the generosity of the God who made it. None of these gifts compete with Christ. They point to Him. They reveal His goodness. And in the New Creation every good thing that sin has corrupted will finally be enjoyed exactly as God intended.

So the good news for the believer is not simply that we get Jesus while everything else disappears. Because we are united to Christ, we receive Jesus and every good thing that belongs to Him. He gives us the plunder of the nations.

Paul captures this beautifully in Romans 8:31–32:

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?... He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?

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