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.

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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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On one side is the ever-growing list of words and phrases that are considered politically incorrect and are labeled as either ignorant or, in the extreme, hate speech. The intention is often to protect people from hearing words, phrases, or ideas that may make them uncomfortable. Yet this impulse has frequently been weaponized to shut down legitimate debate, argument, and discussion. Rather than fostering understanding, it has often widened the divide on many important issues.

The reaction has been just as unhealthy. Rather than asking how God would have us speak, many have decided that if one side wants to regulate language, they will intentionally say whatever is most offensive. One error has produced another.

Scripture offers a better way. It neither gives us an ever-growing list of forbidden words nor grants us a license to use language carelessly. It goes deeper. It confronts the heart from which our words flow.

Ironically, these two competing approaches fit neatly into biblical categories. On one side we find a kind of secular legalism that seeks to forbid what God has not forbidden. On the other is a secular licentiousness that ignores the law of God as it relates to our speech. Neither reflects the heart of Christ.

Disability Language

This discussion becomes very personal in the world of disability ministry.

The word retard, or the “R-word,” has been a punchline and an insult for decades. It has been used to cut down and hurt children like mine. Yet at one time it was simply the shortened form of a medical diagnosis.

Language evolves. Words often move from clinical or medical usage into common insults before eventually becoming so offensive that they are replaced with new terminology. Over the last two centuries, the language used to describe intellectual disabilities has changed repeatedly.

• Fool

• Idiot

• Mental Retardation

• Intellectual Disability

• Person with an Intellectual Disability

• Disabled Person

Likewise, terminology surrounding specific disabilities has continued to develop.

• A Subsection of Schizophrenia

• Asperger’s Syndrome

• Autism Spectrum Disorder

• Person on the Autism Spectrum

• Autistic Person

Or consider Williams Syndrome, once commonly referred to as “Elfin Face Syndrome.”

History demonstrates a pattern. Every generation introduces a new medical term hoping to eliminate the stigma. Given enough time, that new term often becomes the next insult. The problem has never been the vocabulary itself. The problem is the sinful human heart that delights in belittling those made in the image of God.

Jesus and the “R Word”

“But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire.” — Matthew 5:22

This passage, found in the middle of the Sermon on the Mount, is part of Jesus’ pattern of taking God’s law to its fullest conclusion. God has not merely forbidden murder; He condemns the hatred from which murder springs. God has not merely forbidden adultery; He condemns the lust that gives birth to it.

We often spend most of our time discussing hatred in this passage but miss the connection Jesus makes between hatred and our words. The flippant use of language to express anger, frustration, mockery, or prideful judgment reveals something far deeper than poor manners. It reveals a heart that is out of step with God.

Jesus Himself used the word fool. Yet He did so not as playground mockery or casual insult, but as the righteous Judge exposing hardened unbelief and calling people to repentance. His words were never careless, cruel, or meant to demean the weak.

The command, then, is not simply about maintaining a list of prohibited words. It is about addressing the heart of the speaker.

Young people illustrate this well. They are incredibly creative with language. Many know they cannot publicly use the “R-word” or other taboo slurs without social consequences. Instead, I increasingly hear terms like autistic or on the spectrum used as insults. The vocabulary has changed, but the sinful heart behind the words has not.

That should not surprise us. If tomorrow we replaced every offensive term with a brand-new medical diagnosis, eventually that diagnosis would become an insult too. We do not solve sinful speech by constantly inventing new words. We solve it only as Christ transforms sinful hearts.

So how should Christians think about the “R word”?

Jesus consistently demonstrated compassion, dignity, and welcome toward those whom society marginalized. He also taught that our words reveal our hearts. While the word fool in His day was not exclusively connected to intellectual disability, He clearly condemned the careless, hateful use of language intended to wound, belittle, or dehumanize another person.

For that reason, the Christian’s question should not simply be, “Am I allowed to say this word?” It should be, “Why do I want to say it?”

Is it to mock someone? To provoke a reaction? To elevate myself by putting another image-bearer down?

Or is it to speak truth in love? To use words intended in our current context purely to cut and belittle image bearers cannot be spoken in love.

Christians should resist both the legalism that invents laws God has not given and the licentiousness that delights in offending others simply because it can. Instead, we should pursue speech that is governed by wisdom, love, and holiness.

The problem is not ultimately a particular word. The problem is the sinful heart that turns words into weapons. Only the gospel can change the heart, and only a changed heart can consistently produce gracious words.

So when a Christian uses the "R-word," or any other word designed to cut down those made in the image of God to mock or cut down, it reveals a heart that is not in line with the heart of Jesus. Jesus himself reveals this in his statement,

“I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” Matthew 12:36–37: (ESV)

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Every Sunday there are men sitting in churches carrying grief, depression, anxiety, exhaustion, and hopelessness behind a practiced smile.

While only around 6% of men report suffering from depression, this number is believed to be severely underreported.

If you are a man reading this and you are struggling, please speak up. Seek help. Talk to a trusted friend. Talk to a trusted pastor. Talk to your doctor. You do not have to fight this battle alone. I write this as a pastor who himself has struggled with depression and has someone who has done too many burials of men before it was their time.

We are not the first generation to deal with these struggles. Great men throughout history have fought this battle before us, and there is wisdom found in their words and stories.

The wisdom of Christians throughout history points us toward many helps in seasons of darkness. One of the most memorable illustrations I have found, however, comes not from a theological treatise but from one of the greatest works of Christian fiction ever written.

My favorite work of fiction is The Lord of the Rings. While it is a world filled with magic, elves, orcs, and hairy-footed hobbits, it is deeply grounded in a Christian worldview.

At the beginning of the second book, The Two Towers, Gandalf encounters King Théoden. Théoden has had the wicked Gríma Wormtongue whispering lies and deceit into his ear. He has become a brittle and broken man, overcome by despair, fear, and mistrust.

As those lies begin to be undone, Théoden comes face to face with the reality of the loss around him—the death of his own son and the death of Boromir. He cries out in despair:

“Slowly Théoden sat down again, as if weariness still struggled to master him against the will of Gandalf. He turned and looked at his great house. ‘Alas!’ he said, ‘that these evil days should be mine, and should come in my old age instead of that peace which I have earned. Alas for Boromir the brave! The young perish and the old linger, withering.’ He clutched his knees with his wrinkled hands.”

Despair and grief come upon us for many reasons. The death of a child is one of the most jarring things anyone can endure. The loss of a marriage, a career, a dream, or even one’s health can leave a man feeling just as broken.

Yet notice what Gandalf says next:

“Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped a sword-hilt.”

For Théoden, his sword was connected with his purpose as a king and as a faithful man. It had been hidden from him and, in many ways, stolen from him. So many men walk this same path of despair, feeling that their purpose has been taken from them. They have believed the lies of the serpent. Believers do not escape this temptation either.

Scripture repeatedly reminds God’s people who they are before reminding them what they are called to do. Our identity is rooted in Christ before it is expressed in our calling. Remembering who we belong to gives strength to faithfully take up the work He has given us.

Yet look at what is said of Théoden after a sword is placed back into his hands:

“He turned towards Éomer, and the men looked in wonder at him, standing now proud and erect. Where was the old man whom they had left crouching in his chair or leaning on his stick?”

As men, we need to remember our purpose and calling. We were made in the image of God. We were made to exercise dominion as kings under the King of Kings. We were made to glorify our Maker and make His name great.

Even modern psychiatrists acknowledge the value of knowing one’s purpose. Studies have consistently found that people who possess a strong sense of purpose report significantly lower levels of stress, despair, and depression.

This will not prevent the lies from coming or the weapons from being formed against us. But with the armor of God we can take up our purpose and stand firm in the battle.

Men, you need trusted brothers in your life who remind you of your purpose and your calling. You need men to hand you your sword. The enemy has always preferred isolated soldiers. You cannot fight this battle alone. Find faithful brothers who will point you to Christ, remind you of His promises, and place the sword back into your hands when you have grown weary.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

We are to look beyond our suffering and the lies. We must look to our purpose and destination our purpose is calling us to.

Our ultimate purpose is not merely to feel useful again. It is to know Christ, glorify Him, and faithfully walk with Him whether our hearts are light or heavy. Some days our hands tremble as we take hold of the sword. Yet our King never abandons His soldiers. He strengthens the weary, upholds the fainthearted, and promises that one day every battle against sin, sorrow, and death will finally be over.

So who is by your side now handing you your sword and reminding you of who your God is? Who will hand you your sword?

Just a final note: depression is an extraordinarily complicated reality. It can be caused by a mixture of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual factors. This article is not intended as a cure-all, but rather as one tool in your arsenal. God often works through wise counsel, faithful friends, medical care when appropriate, His Word, prayer, and the fellowship of His church to strengthen weary saints.

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In his chapter on the incomprehensibility of the Trinity in On Classical Trinitarianism, Ronni Kurtz argues that many theological errors arise when we fail to appreciate the distinction between Creator and creature. He writes:

God is not out of the intellectual and linguistic jurisdiction of the creature merely because the creature is sinful and God is great in size. Rather, God is out of the intellectual and linguistic jurisdiction of the creature because God is distinct from the creature.

God is infinitely above us as Creator, and we are finite creatures. Yet God has not left us in ignorance. Kurtz goes on to explain that God’s answer to this problem is accommodation:

To accommodate the creature, God has revealed himself in such a way that allows for meaningful knowledge and speech about God from the creature, but without relinquishing his incomprehensible essence.

Even in our unfallen state, we could not know him unless he stooped down to walk with us. Yet now, although image bearers, all of who we are is fallen. Our intellect, our will, and our hearts are born into weakness and rebellion. We resist the revelation given to us. God, in his love for us, gave us his Word. He not only gave it to us through the prophets and apostles, but also in the flesh in Jesus Christ. Jesus accommodated our lack of ability and ultimately to deliver us from our sinful state.

In his gifts to the people of God, he not only gave the Word of God, he accommodated his revelation into multiple styles, writing in narrative and poetry to enable oral storytelling and easy memorization and repetition for the non-literate.

God’s accommodation is not limited to a few isolated examples. It is woven throughout the entirety of Scripture. As Kurtz notes while drawing from Herman Bavinck:

Indeed, the Scriptures use anthropomorphism, anthropopathism, and anthropochronism to such an extent that nineteenth-century Dutch theologian Herman Bavinck was comfortable to say, “Scripture does not just contain a few scattered anthropomorphisms but is anthropomorphic through and through.” Bavinck ties this claim to God’s act of accommodation.

In Ronni Kurtz’s article he argues that God, in his attempt to relate to his creation, has made accommodations to and for us so we can know him.

He not only gave the Word but also gave sacraments and memorial practices for embodied learning. We have the embodied ordinances of Baptism as our entry into the faith and the Lord’s Supper as the continuing embodied reminder of Jesus’ spiritual presence.

Importantly, accommodation does not mean that God gives us false or lesser knowledge. Rather, accommodation makes genuine knowledge of God possible for finite creatures. Kurtz explains:

Rather, through accommodation, the creature is able to participate in divine wisdom—not through archetypal theology, but through ectypal theology. This should not be read as demeaning ectypal theology either. Ectypal theology is meaningful theology because the creature participates by means of analogical knowledge of God (though never through univocal knowledge of God).

Because God accommodates himself to creatures, accommodation is not merely an educational strategy or ministry technique. It is a theological reality rooted in God’s own self-revelation. If God has chosen to communicate truth in ways suited to finite creatures, then we should not be surprised that his people are called to do likewise.

In schools, workplaces, churches, and elsewhere, the term accommodation has been used to mean adaptations that can be made to enable anyone and everyone to participate. In acknowledging that God is an accommodating God, we as the church must be an accommodating people.

Paul understood this principle when he said that he became all things to all people. He did not change the gospel, but he adapted his presentation of it to those he served. To the Jews, he brought the gospel in light of their background and experience. To the Gentiles, he did the same. The message remained unchanged, but the method of communication was adapted to the audience.

Whoever you minister to, whether in your church, home, or community, you should accommodate the message to them. You do not change the message, but you bring it to where they are. We accommodate in our teaching styles but also in the practical ways as well. We accommodate through hearing devices for the hard of hearing. We accommodate by having a nursery. We accommodate by welcoming those with physical and intellectual disabilities.

My son uses an AAC device to help him communicate due in part to intellectual disability, physical damage during life-saving procedures, and strokes. He cannot currently vocalize sound. Yet he communicates. He can use coughs, hand movements, taps, and his AAC device to communicate. An AAC functions with visual, language, and audio supports to help nonverbal or minimally verbal individuals. This enables Knox and children like him to communicate, to be heard.

An AAC does not change the message Knox wants to communicate. Rather, it accommodates the way that message is communicated so that others can understand him. In many ways, it provides a helpful illustration of what accommodation seeks to do. Accommodation does not change truth. Accommodation brings truth within reach of those who receive it.

While these forms of accommodation are not identical, they share the same basic principle: truth is communicated according to the capacity of the recipient without changing the truth itself.

When we minister to anyone, specifically those with disabilities, we must take the truth of who God is, a God who accommodated himself to us, and accommodate it to our communities, our children, and every person made in the image of God.

The word itself can strike fear into the heart of even the greatest athlete. The yips is a phenomenon where a talented player forgets the basic fundamentals of their job. They know what to do. Their muscles know exactly what to do. Yet when they go to do it, there is a mental block. Something prevents them from executing.

I played baseball from the time I was four all the way through high school, and before the Lord called me into ministry, my goal was to play in college. Based on my best estimate, as an active player who played league ball, travel ball, fall ball, high school ball, and attended multiple camps, I have probably thrown a baseball between two and three million times.

In high school, I caught the yips. I played third base and had a rocket of an arm. I could make throws across the 103-foot diamond off my back foot. I had quick reflexes. On bunt plays, I could slide on my knees and throw the ball with pretty good accuracy. Yet I still caught the yips in the most embarrassing way.

In baseball there is a routine during warmups and after a strikeout where you throw the ball around the horn. The catcher throws to the third baseman, who throws to the second baseman, then to the shortstop, and finally back to the pitcher. On one occasion, I slipped up and threw the ball way out into right field. I was terrified from then on. Every time I caught the ball, fear washed over me.

Am I going to embarrass myself again?

As the fear grew, the problem got worse. Eventually I was lobbing the ball so softly just to avoid another mistake. It was absolutely embarrassing.

The year that happened, I never really got over it. I suffered a season-ending injury just a few games into the season, and after the break and rehab, the problem disappeared.

The problem was not skill, practice, or knowledge.

It came down to one word.

Fear.

I knew what to do. I knew how to do it. Fear of failure and fear of man took over.

Years later, I realized my problem never really went away.

I simply traded a leather ball for a leather Bible.

In the Christian life, many of us know exactly what we are called to do. We may have done it a thousand times. Yet fear still creeps in.

I’ve led people to Christ, preached hundreds of sermons, shared the gospel in thousands of conversations, read my Bible over and over, and spent years studying the Christian life.

None of that has made me immune to fear.

Even as a pastor, there are moments when I simply have to practice the fundamentals. Share the gospel. Disciple a new believer through a difficult subject. Preach a sermon I know will not be well received.

Then the thoughts begin.

“Just keep moving.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Just skip over that part.”

Fear has a way of making us forget what we already know.

In baseball and in our faith, the solution is remarkably similar. Get out of your head. Turn your eyes to what you are supposed to be looking at. Then do what you already know how to do.

When you realize that life is about more than the opinions of others, and that what ultimately matters is giving glory to God, you can escape that fear trap and simply obey.

If you have followed Christ for more than a few minutes, I promise you that a lack of knowledge is probably not what is keeping you from sharing your faith or discipling others. More often than not, the culprit is fear.

“The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is safe.” Proverbs 29:25

Fear will always tell you to hold the ball.

Faith tells you to throw it.

Don’t let the yips steal the joy of simply playing the game God has called you to play.

While everyone would recognize that missing any part of the body, either at birth or due to the circumstances of life, is a tragedy, it is not uncommon. The church is described in the Bible as the body of Christ, both locally and globally. Paul, in 1 Corinthians, argues that the church needs the entire body with all of its gifts and all that it adds. If the entire body was a mouth, the church would be deaf. If the entire church was a foot, we would be blind.

Paul’s argument, however, goes even further. He writes that “the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22, ESV). In God’s design, the members who are often overlooked are not optional. They are necessary. The church is not simply called to tolerate every member of the body but to recognize that every member contributes something essential to the health of the whole.

If any part of the body hurts, the whole body is damaged. A toothache can bring a mountain of a man to his knees. A microdeletion led to an open-heart surgery. A tiny narrowing in my son’s aorta almost killed my son. When a church is missing a part of the local body, whether it is someone’s gifting or someone who is part of the body but does not have access to attend or serve, then the whole body can be disabled. Currently, there is a large group of both believers and prospects who are missing from local bodies of believers: the disabled.

This has happened for multiple reasons. Physical barriers are common. Churches are exempt from ADA accessibility requirements. Many churches are missing key accessibility features: handicap parking, wheelchair access, bathrooms, and doors wide enough for wheelchairs. Social barriers abound as well. Those with autism and other sensory-processing disabilities feel judged because of the noise or other issues. They are concerned about their child’s safety and worry about putting a burden upon the church. I have seen a multitude of students, even in my own area, who are autistic or neurodivergent and have been asked to leave churches—not because they are violent or hurting others, but because the church felt ill-equipped to minister to them.

Not only do many of these believers feel separate and isolated, but the church is suffering. We’re missing parts of the body of Christ who can not only be ministered to but also minister. Disability does not limit service. Those with physical disabilities can, and historically have, preached faithfully and powerfully, and yet in many churches they cannot get onto the stage. Those with disabilities are able to sing beautifully and play skillfully. They can teach, encourage, pray, disciple, and serve. The church does not merely have something to offer them; they have something to offer the church.

For the past couple of years, in my small country church, we have been intentional about being welcoming to individuals with disabilities. We are not perfect and still have some barriers. Yet simply being verbally accepting and having a loving disposition has enabled us not only to reach individuals with disabilities but also to incorporate them into the life of the body. I have seen teens with autism serve and love in powerful ways. I have seen kids who would have been kicked out of other children’s ministries begin to grow and thrive.

When a part of the body is missing, whether it is your right arm or just a small microdeletion, the impacts can be devastating. Right now, many local bodies of Christ are disabled and missing pieces. Ironically, the pieces that are missing are those who themselves have disabilities.

If Paul is correct that the members who seem weaker are indispensable, then churches cannot afford to view disability ministry as an optional program or a specialized niche. It is a matter of the health of the body itself. When disabled believers are unable to participate fully in the life of the church, the entire church suffers the loss. But when barriers are removed and every member is welcomed, equipped, and encouraged to serve, the whole body becomes stronger.

This goes back to the garden, with Eve being told that her pain would be greatly increased in childbirth. This meant more than labor pains, but all of the pain involved in conceiving, birthing, and raising children. Hannah wept. Rachel wept. Naomi wept. Throughout Scripture, women weep both because they long for children and because they long for God’s blessing upon their children.

Augustine is the great spiritual giant of the fourth century. His writings transformed the church. He wrote several great works, but few have had a greater impact than his Confessions. In it, he gives a detailed account of his own conversion.

You need to read this book. Unlike most autobiographies, Augustine writes not primarily to his readers but to God Himself. From the first page you sense that these are the words of a man transformed by an encounter with the holiness of God. But honestly Augustine would not have become the giant he grew to be without the prayers of his mother.

Reflecting on those years, Augustine wrote, “For she wept for me before You more than mothers weep when lamenting their dead children.” Monica’s tears were not the tears of a mother mourning a corpse, but of a mother grieving the spiritual condition of her living son. When her heart was nearly broken by Augustine’s wandering, a bishop sought to comfort her with words that proved prophetic: “It cannot be that the son of these tears should perish.”

Monica is the kind of mother that I have ministered to on a great many occasions. You know your God loves you. You know God loves your child. You see every sin. You see the pain caused by their actions. Augustine writes openly and honestly as a broken, lustful, and prideful man. Yet time and time again he returns to his mother’s heart and concern for him. When he was twenty-nine and about to make his way to Rome, which he later realized would only lead him to even more sinful activity, his mother pleaded with him. Augustine recounts how he ultimately lied to her in order to give her the slip.

“I lied to my mother—yes, to that mother who wept for me—and thus escaped from her.”

Imagine the heartbreak. Monica spent the night praying while her son sailed away. Augustine believed he was escaping his mother’s influence. In reality, he was not escaping her prayers.

One of the benefits of spiritual biographies is that they give examples of how God works in the here and now. They speak about the reality of human suffering and divine sovereignty. Augustine was a great mind, but apart from the work of God he was utterly lost. His mother spent year after year, day after day, praying for her son, never fully aware of the work that God was doing on her behalf. She prayed, and God answered, as He always does, in His own time and in His own way.

If your son or daughter is a wandering prodigal, I want you to be encouraged. Your prayers are being heard by God. Don’t stop and don’t abandon your task. Pray, love, and share the grace of God with them as often as you can. As a Christian, let your love guide your actions. Model grace. Model humility. Ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness. Don’t compromise or celebrate the things of this world, but make it clear, firmly and lovingly, like the father of the prodigal son, that you stand watching, ready to run and embrace them the moment they turn back.

The world tells us that if someone is not respecting you or your peace, cut them off. The Word makes clear that we are not to enable or endorse sinful behavior, but neither are we to abandon our responsibilities. Love does not ignore sin, nor does it walk away from those entrusted to our care. Let us take responsibility for the ways we have fallen short as parents and plead with our great Savior to save our children.

Be like Monica and let your tears water the seeds of faith planted in your children.

This is a cognitive bias where a person reads a news article on a topic they know well, spots glaring errors or inaccuracies, and gets frustrated. However, they then turn the page and read articles on unfamiliar topics with complete trust, forgetting the unreliability they just witnessed.

Many of us are guilty of this.

So I want to give you some firsthand information about the Southern Baptist Convention.

We are the largest conservative, Bible-believing denomination in the United States. Some of the things being shared and discussed are simply saying, “Can you believe this group of Christians believes what Christians have believed for the last 2,000 years?”

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Many articles focus on the belief that the office of pastor is limited to qualified men, a position that for Baptists goes back to our founding in the early 1600s and, for the church as a whole, goes back to Scripture itself. We believe God has distinct roles for men and women in the home and the church.

What was voted on was an amendment intended to protect our convention from the liberal drift that has affected so many mainline denominations. Whether you agree with that amendment or not, it is important to understand what was actually being debated rather than the caricatures that are often presented.

Yet I would add that in the SBC we do not see what many critics describe as patriarchy keeping women out of ministry. In the SBC, we see women leading and serving all over the convention. We have thousands of female missionaries, professors, counselors, teachers, authors, and ministry leaders. Women are gifted by the Holy Spirit and commanded to share the gospel of Jesus Christ and serve the body of Christ.

What is not reported?

It is not reported that Southern Baptists currently support more than 3,500 missionaries serving around the world. In 2025 alone, IMB missionaries and their partners shared the Gospel with more than 2 million people, saw nearly 200,000 professions of faith, and helped plant more than 7,600 churches.

It is not reported that our North American Mission Board helped plant 684 new churches across North America.

It is not reported that our seminaries provide ministry education for men and women through accredited institutions at some of the most affordable costs available.

It is not reported that Southern Baptists are often among the first on the scene when disaster strikes.

It is not reported that Southern Baptists recorded more than 250,000 baptisms, the highest number in years.

It is not reported that we spoke loudly and clearly against the evils of racism. It is not reported that we affirmed both compassion for immigrants and the responsibility of nations to maintain secure borders. It is not reported that we spoke against antisemitism.

It is not reported that we are a convention of churches taking major strides in loving those with disabilities. This year our Executive Committee worked diligently to provide recommendations to our entities and churches on how to better love and serve one of the most underserved populations in our nation. I had the blessing of serving on this committee. A bold call was made in these recommendations to local churches, encouraging them to do the following:

Understand that 15–20 percent of the population has a disability, yet they remain underrepresented in our churches, making this a significant opportunity to reach families with the hope of the gospel.

• Identify key church leaders and families in the congregation impacted by disability to help address potential physical and social barriers that may be preventing special-needs families from attending church.

• With help from Southern Baptist entities and/or parachurch organizations, develop a plan for inclusion for children, teens, and adults with disabilities that includes evangelism, discipleship, fellowship, and service opportunities.

• Build trust within communities to reach families affected by disability by meeting practical needs and pointing them to Jesus, who meets their deepest need.

As a father of children with disabilities, I was greatly encouraged that these recommendations were received unanimously. We are a denomination committed to serving people in both truth and love.

There is so much more that can be said, both good and bad, about this convention of churches. We are not perfect and have not always reflected Christ well, but we are a group of churches committed to working together to advance the gospel of Jesus Christ in word and deed.

That is why I am reminded of the Gell-Mann Amnesia Effect. If the stories you see about the SBC bear little resemblance to the convention I attended, perhaps it is worth asking what else the headlines might be missing.

We love our neighbors. We preach Jesus. We believe the Bible. We are not perfect, but we serve a perfect Savior.

This is part 8 of a series on the SBC Disability Ministry Task Force report, which will be delivered at the SBC in less than 2 weeks. Be sure to check out my other articles to get a sense of why this report is so important.

A lot of churches think they don’t have a disability ministry, often imagining it only as big, formal programs at large churches. But that misses the main point. Disability ministry isn’t about size. It’s about noticing and including families who are already part of our churches but may feel left out. When we assume only bigger or better-equipped churches can do this work, we lose sight of what really matters.

Families affected by disability are already part of our communities, and there are more of them than most churches realize. The SBC Disability Ministry Task Force Report says about 15–20% of people live with some kind of disability, but these families are still underrepresented in many churches. Joni and Friends calls families affected by disability the largest unreached people group in the United States, and I agree. This gap is not just a challenge. It’s also a chance for churches to show more compassion, build deeper relationships, and better reflect the heart of Christ.

That opportunity is often already right in our pews. Most churches know people with disabilities in their congregations. What they may not realize is what those families are quietly dealing with. Many people go through life without ever sharing their struggles, not because the church did something wrong, but because they never felt safe enough to speak up.

I understand that silence personally. Our family lives with neurodiversity, and after our son’s diagnosis, it took us years to talk openly about it with our church family. It wasn’t because we lacked community, but because being vulnerable is hard and the risks felt high. As my church’s pastor, I worried about what people would think when they saw my son’s behavior. Only as we grew in Christ did we find the confidence to share what God was doing in our home and what he was teaching us through it. That kind of silence is a real barrier, and it’s more common than most churches realize.

One of the most encouraging recommendations in the task force report is for churches to intentionally identify leaders and families in their congregations who are already affected by disability. This matters because it changes where we start. Disability ministry doesn’t begin with creating a new program. It starts with paying attention, learning people’s names, and listening to families. It means recognizing that God has already placed these people in the care of the local church. Many churches are already doing more right than they realize.

The report talks about physical and social barriers, and churches often think first about buildings and equipment. Those things are important. But the barriers families face most often are relational and emotional, like fear of embarrassment, fear of judgment, worry that their child is a distraction, or concern about tiring out volunteers. If these fears aren’t addressed, they build up. Over time, families may quietly wonder if it would be easier not to come at all. This isn’t about rebellion. It’s about exhaustion and slowly losing hope. I’ve seen that small acts of grace can make a big difference. These might be a volunteer patiently sitting with a child, a pastor remembering a family’s story months later, a church member talking directly to a teenager, or a ministry leader adjusting expectations instead of showing frustration. These moments are about more than just making accommodations. They show dignity, patience, and belonging, and often they show the love of Christ more powerfully than anyone realizes.

The task force also encourages churches to make disability inclusion part of evangelism, discipleship, fellowship, and service for everyone—children, teenagers, and adults. This wording is important. No one who cares about this work wants to create separate spaces off to the side. The goal is for people with disabilities to be active participants in church life, not just recipients of a program. It’s about helping families see church as a place of grace, not judgment, and recognizing that every member has something valuable to offer.

Many churches hear about this and quickly feel overwhelmed, thinking they don’t have the expertise, staff, or budget to do it well. But most families aren’t asking churches to be perfect right away. They just want to know if the church is willing to love them enough to learn. Honestly, most churches are closer than they realize. Learning names matters. Listening to parents matters. Reducing shame matters. Patience and flexibility matter. And it’s important to remember that these families are not problems to solve. They are beloved members of the body of Christ, created for his purposes.

That’s why this conversation goes beyond just disability ministry as a category. The task force report sees a big opportunity to reach families with the hope of the Gospel. But before many churches can reach out, they may need to realize that many of these families are already there, sitting quietly in the pews on Sunday morning, hoping someone will notice.

When churches start to really see people, they begin to love them more intentionally. That’s where belonging starts.

For the last four years, nurses have helped care for our son in our home. My middle son is extremely medically complex and fragile, and at different points my wife and I have practically lived in hospitals for months at a time. In this season of life, we are still in and out of doctors’ offices almost weekly.

At one point, we were approved for 24-hour home nursing care, though staffing shortages often made even those hours difficult to fill. At first, the arrangement was unnerving. We had to welcome strangers into our home and trust them around our children. My son stays on a heart monitor at night, and there have been seasons where every alarm mattered. If his heart rate dropped too low while he slept, it could become catastrophic very quickly. We had to trust that the person sitting beside him was not only personally trustworthy, but medically competent.

And somewhere along the way, these nurses stopped feeling like medical staff and started feeling like family. The Lord has used them to care for our children, encourage our hearts, and carry burdens with us that would have been impossible to bear alone. I want to honor a few of the people who have become deeply special to our family.

Rileigh

Rileigh was more than a friend. She truly became like a sister to my wife and me. She loved my children, and my children loved her. She was an amazing nurse primarily because she was an amazing person and friend.

In many ways, it is because of her that Knox can walk. When Knox was learning to walk, he did not take his first steps toward Mom or Dad. Completely unprompted, he walked toward Rileigh in the middle of a Books-A-Million.

Ri also fought her own medical battles after being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer that ultimately took her life. She and Knox became “rare condition buddies,” and we would often send pictures back and forth from the hospital of both of them receiving infusions. She loved my family to the very end and I know because of her faith that she is in the presence of the Lord and we will see her again.

Braicee

Braicee has walked with our family through it all. Our kids adore her, and her kids get along so well with ours. She is an excellent nurse and an even better friend.

She worked hard to earn her RN while balancing work in both hospital and home health settings. Since our boys are still young, they do not always fully understand the dynamic of home nursing. Honestly, I think our youngest genuinely believed that nurses like Braicee actually lived in our house.

Braciee has since moved away, but she remains a dear friend, and we are so proud of her.

Myra

Myra is one of the newest additions to our extended family, but she was one of the easiest people to warm up to. My kids absolutely love and adore her. She constantly goes above and beyond to show them how much she cares.

She has become something like a bonus grandma to our boys. She works nights, and during the chaos and exhaustion that often comes with raising three energetic boys in a disability family, Erin and I will sometimes just repeat to each other, “It’s going to be okay. Myra will be here at 7 p.m.”

Tiffany

Tiffany has been with us throughout this entire journey. She has been a behind-the-scenes champion for our boys.

She works another full-time job and has children of her own, yet she still makes time to come help us, often late into the night, just to give us a little rest. Honestly, much of the very little sleep Erin and I get is because of women like Tiffany and Myra.

She is also an incredible friend who listens, cares, and walks alongside us through every season.

Sha

Sha is one of the best nurses we have ever worked with, not just in our home but anywhere. She is incredibly smart and works unbelievably hard, both in her job and in her studies. While working full time, she also graduated with her RN.

She loves my boys, and they absolutely love her. She is also the only person I know who can successfully wrangle all the beautiful curls on my son’s head.

Thank God for Nurses

Each one of these nurses, along with so many others, has blessed our family deeply. This does not even include the unnamed nurses who cried with us, prayed with us, and laughed with us throughout this journey of medical complexity and disability parenting.

These are the nurses who quietly broke “the rules” in compassionate ways so we could better love and care for our children. The nurses who climbed onto hospital beds to perform CPR and emergency interventions. The nurses who took bites to the arm and sweated alongside Erin and me while we had to hold Knox still for an IV. The nurses who fought and advocated in rooms we could never enter so our children could receive the absolute best care possible.

Nursing is a profession that I believe is close to the heart of God. Scripture repeatedly calls God’s people to protect the vulnerable, care for the suffering, and bear one another’s burdens. Nurses live out those realities every single day, often in exhausting and unseen ways.

Jesus said that caring for the sick is one of the clearest reflections of love for Him:

“I was sick and you visited me.” (Matthew 25:36, ESV)

Paul reminds believers to:

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2, ESV)

And Proverbs teaches us:

“Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will repay him for his deed.” (Proverbs 19:17, ESV)

To the nurses who have cared for our family and countless others: thank you. Thank you for the sleepless nights, the compassion, the advocacy, the patience, and the sacrifice.

So join me in thanking God for the nurses in your life and praying for them faithfully.

In an effort to encourage you to read the book, I want to share two quotes that have significantly shaped how I think about prayer.

1. Praying without Doubting

As a pastor and a parent, I have spent quite a bit of time in hospitals and at the bedsides of sick loved ones. In those moments, there is a subtle prosperity-gospel instinct that says unhelpful things about prayer.

Chapell speaks directly to those situations:

“Some people say that you are not praying with sufficient faith if you follow your petitions with, ‘Yet, Lord, not my will but your will be done.’ Others may claim you are hedging your bets or leaving yourself an escape hatch for explaining unanswered prayer. But do not let anyone make you feel guilty or ashamed for praying as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane.” (pg. 52)

Jesus does say, “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours” (Mark 11:23–24), but this is not the only thing Scripture teaches on prayer. Those words assume that we are praying in accordance with the will of God and that we are trusting what it means to pray in Jesus’ name.

So to say, “Yet Lord, not my will but your will be done,” is not an escape hatch for doubt. It is an expression of trust. It is trusting that Jesus knows our needs better than we do.

Prayer is not telling God what we need and what He has to do about it. Prayer is bringing our faith before our God and trusting Him to provide the good gift that we need.

2. Prayer is Creative

Prayer is done by the Spirit of God, stirring within us what we need to pray for and bringing those prayers before the Father through the work of Jesus to accomplish the will of God. From beginning to end, God is at work in the process.

Our God is a creating God. He created the universe that we see, and He is actively, through the work of the Son and the Spirit, recreating and renewing the world.

Chapell captures this with striking language:

“When we speak to God, his words in us create the world before us in which he is working. As God once created the living world by the word that he spoke (Ps. 33:9; John 1:1–3), he now re-creates the world in which we live by speaking his words through us (1 John 2:14; Rev. 19:13–16). We become co-creators of this new world order by virtue of the Word of God in us that by his Spirit is working all things together for our good (Rom. 8:28, 32).” (pg. 177)

That is strong language, but it is meant to be.

We are co-creating when we pray, not as creators alongside God in equality, but as those who are being brought into His work. God is the Creator, and we are His creatures, yet in His kindness He allows us to participate in what He is doing, shaping both our hearts and the world around us according to His will.

We are like the child of an artist who is allowed to join in the brush strokes, or the son in the workshop who is invited to hammer in the final nail. The work belongs to the Father, but the joy of participation is given to the child.

I hope you find these two truths helpful as you pray today.

You are trusting the One who holds the universe with every burden you lay at His feet, and you are being drawn into His work by your Father, the all-creating One.

You walk into a room filled with people you do not know. The lights above you flicker—bright, fluorescent—and you can hear the steady hum of the electricity keeping them on. The air conditioner kicks on and off in rhythmic intervals, but the room still feels warm.

You try to move across the room, but there is no space. People press past you, shoulders brushing against yours. Some glance at you—too long, too directly—and you feel exposed, as if every movement is being watched.

The volume of conversation rises and falls like waves, crashing over you. You catch pieces of words, fragments of meaning, but nothing stays long enough to make sense.

A trickle of sweat runs down your back.

Your shoes are new, and with every step you feel the contour of your foot pressing against unfamiliar edges. Your stomach growls. You just want to get across the room. You just want an exit.

And now you realize, you need to find the bathroom.

You reach for the hand of someone you recognize, but even their voice is swallowed by the noise. You only catch every other word, as if they are speaking your language—but just barely.

The signs around you blur. Your eyes struggle to focus. You cannot tell where to go or what to do.

You try to speak, but the words will not come.

You repeat yourself. Again. And again. And again.

But your mind cannot seem to connect thought to language.

What you have just experienced is not an exaggeration or a thought experiment—it is, in many ways, a small glimpse into how the world can feel for someone living with autism.

Autism Awareness

While many people have sought to express their thoughts and opinions on Autism Spectrum Disorder, I have found that very few people actually understand it.

Autism is a neurological condition that affects how the brain receives and processes stimuli.

While research is still needed, there is much we currently understand. Autism is widely associated with atypical brain connectivity, characterized by a mix of hypoconnectivity (long-range under-connectivity) and hyperconnectivity (local over-connectivity). Essentially, this means that the brain is wired differently from that of a neurotypical person.

Hyperconnectivity can lead to both strengths and challenges in attention or sensory processing. Hypoconnectivity can lead to difficulty integrating information, particularly in social settings. To put it in computer terms, an autistic brain often experiences something like network connectivity problems.

These differences exist along a spectrum and are currently diagnosed in three levels based on support needs:

• Level 1 – Low support needs

• Level 2 – Moderate support needs

• Level 3 – High support needs

Causes

We do not fully know the causes of autism. That is a statement of fact. Anyone who tells you otherwise is not fully informed.

Attempts to assign blame to vaccines, Tylenol, diet, or other medications ignore both the historical data and the complexity of the condition. Autism is not the result of a single cause.

Genetics and epigenetics are believed to play a significant role, but they are not entirely determinative. Autism appears to arise from a complex interaction of biological and environmental factors that researchers are still working to understand.

While research continues to advance, we must be cautious not to speak with certainty where there is still ongoing study. Confidence without clarity can mislead—and in a subject like autism, that can do real harm.

Personal Note

This spectrum is broad and wide.

As a child, I was diagnosed with ADHD and later with Asperger’s Syndrome. I was in the gifted program in school, generally earned good grades, and went on to graduate from both college and graduate school.

Very few people are aware of this about me, and until now, I have not written about it, honestly, out of fear of judgment and misunderstanding.

Asperger’s has since been reclassified, and those previously diagnosed with it are now considered to fall within Level 1 or Level 2 on the autism spectrum.

My oldest son is Level 3. His story is much more complex than mine. He is nonverbal and struggles deeply with communication and social interaction. We truly believe he is highly intelligent, but because of his communication challenges, it is incredibly difficult to access and understand what he knows and feels.

Risks and Concerns

Safety
Autistic individuals, especially those who are nonverbal, often face increased risks in everyday environments. They are more likely to wander into dangerous situations, more vulnerable to abuse, and, tragically, at higher risk of drowning. Many require constant, attentive supervision. This is not alarmism—it is reality.

Education
While many autistic individuals are highly intelligent, the traditional education system often fails to meet their needs. Parents frequently spend countless hours advocating for appropriate accommodations, yet even then, what is provided can fall short of both legal standards and ethical responsibility.

Isolation
Both autistic individuals and their caregivers often experience deep isolation. Outings can feel overwhelming or unsafe, and social environments can be unwelcoming. Over time, this leads to withdrawal—not out of disinterest, but out of necessity.

Ignorance
One of the most exhausting realities is the constant stream of unsolicited and often contradictory advice. Suggestions range from uninformed to outright harmful. This misunderstanding—of causes, treatments, and lived experience—only deepens isolation and frustration.

What Is a Christian to Do with Autism?

Love

Love is defined by Paul in 1 Corinthians 13. We are to be patient and kind. We are not to insist on our own way.

We are called to go out of our way to show every person—regardless of how their brain is structured—that they matter and are cared for. Love never ends. It is one of the gifts God has given to the church that does not cease. As individuals with disabilities both give and receive love, they participate in something eternal at the very heart of who God is.

Know Your Limitations

If you are reading this, you are most likely not an expert in autism. You are not a neurologist, a speech therapist, or a behavioral specialist. You may have read articles or watched videos, but you are not living in or professionally studying this reality.

This applies far beyond autism, but one of the most dangerous phrases in our modern landscape is, “I have done my own research.” As humans, our capacity for knowledge is limited. We cannot be experts in everything—and that is okay.

As a parent of a child with autism, I do not look to Facebook or TikTok for answers. I speak with my son’s doctors and therapists. I trust those whom God has gifted and called in their fields.

Avoid Eugenic Arguments

Eugenics is the attempt to improve the human population through selective breeding or by removing individuals with disabilities or differences.

As Christians, we reject this entirely. Every human being bears the image of God and has inherent dignity and worth.

We can acknowledge the real pain and difficulty that often accompany severe disabilities without seeking to eliminate those who bear them. Rather than pursuing eradication, we should pursue care, treatment, and faithful presence.

There is ongoing tension in the broader autism conversation—between those with lower support needs seeking recognition and those with higher support needs advocating for safety and care. Both realities matter.

As Christians, we are uniquely equipped to hold this tension. We can affirm that autism reflects both the goodness of God’s creative design and the brokenness of a fallen world. This allows us to pursue inclusion, compassion, and meaningful support—without ever devaluing the person.

The Church

The church should be the most accessible and welcoming place for individuals with autism and their families—but often, it is not.

Many families feel more isolated in church than anywhere else.

Churches may not be legally required to provide accommodations, but we should not need laws to compel love. We are a people who are meant to be known by our love.

The question is not, “What are we required to do?”
The question is, “What does love require of us?”

Conclusion

Autism isn’t something to talk about from a distance. It’s something people live with every day. These are people made in the image of God.

We’re not going to have all the answers. That’s just reality. But we are called to love.

To be patient. To make room. To show up. To walk with people who are tired and often feel alone.

At the end of the day, this isn’t just about autism. It’s about whether the church is actually going to love people the way Christ has called us to.

Imagine this.

Your 16-year-old gets his license that morning, and you come home that evening for a small family celebration. You hand him a tiny box. He unwraps it and, in jubilation, pulls out a set of keys on a keychain. He embraces you and shouts, “Thank you, thank you so much! I love you. I’ve always wanted a set of keys to play with.”

Confused, you slowly pull away from the embrace.

“Son, those go with the car outside.”

“That’s cool,” he says, disinterested, as he runs up to his room and hangs them on a hook. “I’ve always dreamed of having these keys here with me. Thanks again, Dad.”

At that point, you’d probably reconsider the car—and wonder whether your son has lost his sanity.

As ridiculous as this sounds, many of us have done something similar with the promises of God. We have longed for the keys—and even their place on a hook—when the real prize is the car.

The Scriptures tell us that we have eternal life even now, and that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:8). These truths are beautiful and absolutely true. But they are, in a sense, the space between receiving the keys at the party and actually driving the car.

The Bible is clear that our hope is not to remain disembodied forever, but to await something greater: the redemption of our bodies (cf. Romans 8:23), the return of Christ, and the resurrection of the dead (cf. 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17).

Paul makes this unmistakable in 1 Corinthians 15:1–58. The Christian hope is not merely life after death, but life after life after death—a resurrected body in a restored creation, secured by the risen Christ.

In that chapter, Paul uses the image of a seed becoming a plant. A wheat kernel begins small, buried in the ground, but it rises into something that feeds life and produces many more seeds. It is the same in kind, yet far more glorious in form.

So it will be with us. What is sown in weakness will be raised in power. What is sown perishable will be raised imperishable (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:42–44).

This world is broken. Our bodies are broken. Our minds are broken. Sin has touched everything—our hearts and our neighbors alike.

I have two sons with disabilities, and I long for the day when not only their souls are with Jesus, but their bodies are made whole. I long for the day when sin is no more—when I no longer battle pride, anger, or impatience.

We are not looking for an escape from a sinking world. We are looking forward to its restoration—to a glorification that takes what was good and brings it to its fullest, most radiant expression.

All the pain in my sons’ lives cannot compare to the eternal weight of glory that awaits us (cf. Romans 8:18; 2 Corinthians 4:17). Every stretch in the ICU will feel like a speck of dust on the scale. Every sleepless night, every 3 a.m. prayer-filled car ride, will feel like a drop of water drawn from the ocean.

We are not hunkering down, waiting for the end. Our hope compels us to live—and to live fully: to face suffering head-on, to face death as a defeated enemy, and to live for the glory set before us.

So let us take hold of this hope and believe it. And in believing, let us live it out.

Paul writes, “Why are we in danger every hour? … I die every day!” (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:30–31). We can die daily in faith and hope because of what lies ahead. We can endure sorrow, grief, and persecution because our future is secure. We can fight sin and temptation because a greater glory awaits us.

We have the keys.

So let us not hang them on a hook.

Let us look forward to the drive.

1. The Resurrection Gives Meaning to Our Sacrifice
   If Christ is not raised, suffering for the faith makes no sense—but because He is alive, every sacrifice for Him is worth it.

2. Our Hope in the Resurrection Calls Us to Bold Living
   Believers throughout history have risked everything because they know death is not the end—so we too can live courageously for Christ.

3. Wake Up and Live Like Jesus Is Alive
   Reject the lie that this life is all there is, turn from sin, and fully follow Christ with urgency, purpose, and eternal perspective.