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Slipping my arms through the straps and then tightening the belt around my waist, I could feel the weight off a weekend’s worth of food, clothes, and camping gear as it settled on my shoulders.  Less tangible but even weightier was the burden I was carrying in my spirit, a sum accumulated over the course of the past couple of weeks. It wasn’t the pain of my own problems, but rather the pain of many other people who are very dear to me. The hardships of my friends, the suffering of my patients, the brokenness of relationships, the injustices in the world, and the millions of people who are trying to manage all this apart from Christ — it all began to pile up like bad news upon bad news, like struggles upon sadness.  As I started to walk down the trail into the woods, I knew that I would have to carry this heavy pack for miles over hills and across creeks. But my dad has taught me that backpacks are designed to help you carry weight correctly, and the secret is making t...

Sitting down on the warm smooth rocks, I dangled my feet in the cool, clear water. After a two and a half mile hike, my sister and I found this off-the-berated-path waterfall. Worth it. The sound of rushing waters drowned out the sound of everything except my thoughts. The calm I felt in the middle of this moment in this middle of this wilderness was so entirely opposite to the stress I lived under this past week. I took a deep breath of misty air and let out a sigh as I remembered how I had wrestled my chaotic thoughts and lost sleep over them. The stress was not linked to any one particular stressor but rather a thousand small ones that I just couldn’t shake off. All the things I needed to do. All the things I wanted to do better. It was that steady, low-lying undertow of stress that almost swept me away this past week. I watched my sister splash about playfully in the falls while I chose to soak up some sun and stay warm. My eyes lifted to the top of the falls. Right where the w...

The coronavirus may have shut the doors of churches on Sunday mornings, but it has not stopped the church from meeting. It all started when I went on a camping trip the weekend that the quarantine was initiated. For the first five minutes of the car ride, we gave everyone permission to say whatever they wanted about Covid, and then for the rest of the trip it was banned to speak of it. Instead of dwelling on coronavirus, we embraced the outdoors, explored scenic byways, hiked to the top of a mountain, wound our way up to a waterfall, and lingered long around campfires. All the while, we mingled between story-telling, joking, and talking about life and Jesus. The serious, the sacred, the lightheartedness, and the laughter became inseparable. We breathed the fresh air, and also our hearts breathed afresh from the mutual encouragement of the others. We watched the evening campfire die while knowing that a fire had been kindled in our souls. Upon our return Saturday evening, we hadn’...

Not too long ago, I had a young woman living with me who was a delight to be around. And I really think it was because she enjoyed the simplest of things. A bag of hot chips from the grocery store and a walk in the park could absolutely make her day. She also loved to get out and do things with me — church, small group, the movies, a Super Bowl party. We regularly ate dinner together, and at least once a week we would pull our groceries together and cook. Sometimes after dinner in the lull of the conversation, she would contentedly announce, “Today has been a good day.” As if that’s all that needed to be said. And perhaps it was.  A little more recently, a different friend asked me if I had had a good day, to which I gave a half-hearted, kind-of-sort-of yes. Because he is kind, he followed up with a great question. “What makes a good day?” How do you measure that?  “I think it has to do with the conversations we have,” I said. “Good conversations make a good day.” An...

We are living in a historic moment — do we realize this? Coronavirus is literally history in the making. Are  we going to watch Netflix while the world is changing? Or will be found leaning into the opportune moment, pressing into the Lord to ask him what he thinks about all this? I see so many potential good things coming out of this unique season.  People have free time now more than ever before, for one. The fast-paced, schedule-booked, average American is forcibly been slowed down and isolated. The absolute best way to spend this extra time is to linger with the Lord and abide in Christ. No longer do people have the excuse that they “don’t have time” to pray or study the Word. If the people of God use this margin of time to abide in Christ, fruit will be produced — That’s the promise of John 15. And the fruit that will be produced could be the catalyst of personal and massive revival.   People have also been separated from the privilege of attending church. I...

John 15 talks about connecting to God through abiding and connecting to others through loving, but if we stop right there we have stopped too short.  Jesus said, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit — fruit that will last.” Have you ever wondered what lasting fruit is? We don’t have lasting fruit here on planet earth; all our fruit spoils and rots. But there is a fruit that is everlasting, and Jesus appoints us to go and bear it. There isn’t much in this life that is eternal anyway. We know that God is eternal, we know that His Word is eternal, and we know that God gives our souls eternal life when we believe in Jesus. So this must be what lasting, eternal fruit is all about: connecting the eternal God and the eternal Word of God with the souls of men. Connect with God. Connect with others. Connect others to God.   This has been God’s purpose since the beginning of time. From Genesis to Revelation we see God pursuing his p...

When I first moved to Africa, I wanted to change the world. I thought I knew what missions was about since I had been on nine short term trips which obviously (sarcasm here) must qualify you as somewhat of an expert. Boy was I in for a wake up call. I quickly learned that short-term missions are about short-term projects; long-term missions are about long-term relationships. My plan had been to come and get stuff done, you know, change the world. I didn’t realize that the realest change happens in the long-suffering work of building authentic relationships. Here’s how it happened to me. After the honeymoon phase of living in Africa wore off, I found myself waking up in the mornings and staring at the ceiling, having no earthly idea of what I was supposed to be doing that day. I had no plans. I had no 8:00 to 5:00 job. No supervisor setting expectations for me. I had no hobbies (at least not ones that I could do in West Africa), no friends, no idea how to spend my time. I barely ha...