Editor’s note: This month CalvaryChapel.com is doing a series of articles reflecting on the amazing work that Jesus accomplished through the life and ministry of Pastor Chuck Smith.

The Joy Of Nonconformity – Dave Rolph

I have a million stories racing through my head right now about Chuck, but the one that stands out at this moment is one that, I think, gets to a part of his core.

One Sunday morning, I was with him in the office as we were picking which hymns to sing that week. I saw his mind kind of drift off for a second and he chuckled. I said, “What’s so funny?” He explained that his granddaughter Kristyn had spent the night. At one point she was frustrated with him for some reason, and she put her hands on her hips and with a scowl said, “You are noncapormous!”

He asked her what noncapormous meant and she said, “It means you don’t want to do what people want you to do.” As Chuck was telling me the story his face just beamed.

I said, “It made your day that your little granddaughter could see that you are a nonconformist right?” He said, “To me there is no higher compliment!” After that day, every time Chuck would take a minority opinion on something, or do something radical, I would say, “Chuck, you are noncapormous!” and he would flash that huge smile and say, “and don’t you ever forget it!” In a day where conformity rules the day, I really miss that spirit.

Love, Leadership, And Legacy – Sarah Yardley

Pastor Chuck made an indelible mark on my life.

In my younger years, he was iconic, almost like a character rather than a person. I still remember sitting on the steps outside the front office with two of his grandchildren. They both called out, “Hi, Grandpa!” and I shyly whispered, “Hi, Pastor Chuck.” He was unfailingly kind, always had a treat for the lost teeth, stood at the door to greet every person who wanted a handshake, taught us in that booming, rich voice that made you sit up and pay attention.

In my teenage years, he became my boss. I started working for Calvary Chapel at age sixteen. I worked at a secondary campus, and he was universally respected. I would now, less shyly, greet him with, “Hello, Pastor Chuck.” I worked for Calvary Chapel for ten years, ended up managing the department I started working for, and began to meet with him for monthly financial updates. He always knew my reports better than I knew them myself.

In my twenties, I left to travel and find new ways of being with Jesus. I sat in his office, and it was one of the few times I saw him cry, just for a moment, as I said, “Goodbye, Pastor Chuck.”

He told me I was always welcome to return, and I remembered that through thirty-four countries. We corresponded occasionally as I visited Calvary Chapels scattered throughout the world, living stones of his teaching legacy.

At the end, I had the honour of helping Chuck and Kay personally. I won’t say much about those moments; they are too sacred to share publicly. Even as his memory began to fail, he always spoke of his love for Kay, for his family, for the church. He was in pain, but never complained. I helped coordinate his memorial service—the Honda Center filled with the roar of his spiritual children and grandchildren saying, “We love you, Pastor Chuck.”

In my Bible, he wrote these words: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in truth.” (3 John 4).

So much of my life of living truth today springs from the way he taught, sang, and lived Scripture to us. Pastor Chuck was a vibrant, astounding, faithful, imperfect, and genuine leader.

So for now, until eternity, “See you later, Pastor Chuck.”

God Stories And Gum Wrappers – Kathy Gilbert

I kept offering Pastor Chuck gum while I worked on the church switchboard. It was always mellow on Saturdays in 1974. I finally got the clue not to bother; Pastor Chuck didn’t chew gum. Actually, he would grumble about those who left their gum behind for him to clean up!

Pastor Chuck was given a custom-made picker to use as he zoomed around the CCCM campus on a golf cart picking up cigarette butts.

In 1975, I was hired by Maranatha Evangelical Association to duplicate Chuck messages and mail the cassettes all over the world. Everybody loved Pastor Chuck’s teaching, and so did I—and I still do. I love hearing his excellent teaching on his Word for Today radio program.

One big benefit of being on staff at CCCM was learning to depend on Jesus for His calling and commendation, not on Pastor Chuck. Without words, he pointed us to Jesus, to do our work to please Him.

Nothing would bring a big smile on Pastor Chuck’s face faster than hearing God stories. He loved Jesus and would always stop to enjoy hearing what He was doing or had done.

It took 40+ years, but I finally passed the Jesus and Pastor Chuck servanthood test (“If you want to be great in God’s kingdom, you must be the servant of all.”) It happened while ushering during a recent CCCM Sunday service. It meant the mopping up of a really disgusting bathroom stall that would do Jesus, Pastor Chuck, and janitor/CC pastor Rich Chaffin proud!

originally posted January 5, 2016

Most of the medical community, and those of us who are trained in even the basics, know that the Hippocratic Oath begins with the phrase,

“First, do no harm.”

It’s the stepping stone of medicine, both ancient and modern. Our opening line is the simple instruction to do good, not evil.

I recently sat with a friend of mine who is far from God. She believes He probably exists, but openly states that He has no place in her life. During our conversation she said to me, “You cannot measure the good that religion has done. You can easily measure the harm: the wars, the gossip, the hypocrisy. But you cannot quantify the good.”

Certainly, I could argue this point. In that moment, with that friend, I did not. I simply let settle the clear perception from this modern woman that knowing God brings more harm than anything else.

This is our world. We speak to a generation of men and women who have been burned by church, embittered by politics, antagonized by moralism, disgusted with corruption. They’ve seen scandals and disappointments, watched prayer used as a bribe and Bible verses used as trinkets. Cheap grace has cheapened their experience of Christ and caused harm.

What then is our response?

Mine is very simple.

Live with faithfulness. Seek greater grace. Apologize for the wrongs you did not choose. Allow the incarnational Christ, who lived the life we could not live and died the death we could not die, to speak for Himself. Pursue the Gospel. Preach it to myself before I preach it to others. Love.

Even by accident, we harm others. Even with the best intentions, we experience and cause suffering. I was recently arrested by the clarity of this quote:

“What if in this new year we focused more on Jesus’ wounds and less on our own? They’re both real but only His can heal.”

-Luke MacDonald

The answer is and always will be Jesus.

Don’t look at the things done in His name. Look to Jesus. Don’t look at the ways our wounded world causes new wounds. Seek the ways He invites us to true healing. Don’t dwell on the discouragement and disappointment. Instead, “dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.” (Psalm 37:3)

The only generation we live with is our own. Our decisions can shape far beyond the one in which we live. May we be a generation who leaves behind a legacy of radical, faithful love for Jesus. Loving Him…does no harm.

Sarah Yardley: Today we are delighted to have with us “live, in person,” our very own Sarah Yardley! Born and raised in Southern California, Sarah and her family have been very involved at Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa for many years. Yet six years ago the Lord called Sarah to Cornwall, England, where she has directed a major Christian outreach event called CreationFest and ministered on many levels in her local community and around the U.K. Join us for an encouraging and insightful discussion with Sarah on everything from the call of God to the work of God in the midst of a pandemic!

__

Join us each week for a lively conversation between author Cheryl Brodersen and history teacher Jasmine Alnutt as they explore the lives of well-known—and not so well-known—Christian women in history. Trust us—these are definitely women worth knowing! Visit GraciousWords.com.

So many of our days are made up of ordinary moments. Clean the kitchen. Write an email. Do the laundry. Buy our groceries. We live in a series of ordinary, necessary patterns and somehow lose track of this truth of the incarnation:

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

As followers of Jesus, we have seen glory.

That glory is Jesus Christ, fully God, fully man, all that God has to say to us (the Word) choosing human flesh to live and walk among us. And yet it is easy for us to forget that glory is unveiled, in our midst, resurrected within the mundane routine of our days. I have seen the glory of God in a handful of ordinary moments this past month:

. In our offices, as a group of Christian leaders gathered to pray for our town, one of our local, young people stood at the door and listened. As we finished, he announced to the 12 of us, “I think you know I don’t believe all this …but the way you prayed just now really touched me.”

. A text message that woke me, from a searching friend who wrote simply, “I wanna know more about this Jesus fella.” She is astounded by the concept that she is loved, having done nothing to earn it.

. An invitation from a local charity to join their mental health walk because, “their clients are coming to faith, and they don’t know how to talk to them about following Jesus.”

The story of glory is at once both ordinary and extraordinary, but part of the reality of our journey to know Jesus is that it requires sacrifice to know His glory fully.

We are not called to anything that God Himself has not willingly chosen. In the beautiful words of Linn Marie Tonstad, “The glory of God’s divinity is not an abstract glory in the way the world counts glory and power but a glory that fears not its own sacrifice: a glory whose content is sacrifice. God’s glory, expressed toward us, is willingness to pour Godself out on our behalf.“¹

We hear of glory and think of kings and palaces, Meghan Markle’s wedding to Prince Harry, a Tiffany diamond, a Super Bowl win. Our God sees a glory whose content is sacrifice. To glimpse the glory of God has required of me some clear sacrifices: leaving home and country and choosing another place to live and share the good news of Jesus Christ, the Word become flesh. Your choice may be less geographically drastic. It may look like the father and mother who sacrifice sleep for a new baby, a university student who sacrifices popularity to stand up for Jesus, a businessman who sacrifices lunch hours to pray with a friend. Whatever our place of sacrifice, our confidence is this:

“For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:5-7‬)

In order to proclaim, we must first willingly choose to be servants.

In a boldly “me first” culture, the message of the Gospel will always hold shades of unpopularity. Do you want to be great? Very few in our day and age would counsel you to do that by choosing to be a servant of all. In the words of prayer warrior Pete Greig, “but if this is a glory story, it is a peculiar kind of glory, mostly touching down in broken places and messed up people who rarely feel as spiritual as the story makes them sound .”²

Our broken places are present. They often flare up in the ordinary moments above all. Clean the kitchen. (Again?!?) Write an email. (How are there so many?) Do the laundry. (But do I have to fold it?) Buy our groceries. (Endlessly.) If you aren’t feeling very spiritual as you read this list…neither do I.

And if you heard that you needed to make the ordinary moments a story of glory, you heard wrong. Here’s the deliciously good news of the Gospel: We beheld His glory.

Are you weary? Sit and rest in the presence of a God who has done the work. Are you battling? Delight in knowing a God who has won the war. Are you overwhelmed at the ordinary? Know that the sacrificing God has come to give you grace and truth.

When we glimpse His story of glory, it shapes our days in the light of His presence.

Sarah will be sharing at the CCCM Women’s Christmas Coffee on December 1. Visit christmascoffee.cccm.com for more info!

Notes:

¹ Tonstad, Linn Marie. God and Difference: The Trinity, Sexuality, and the Transformation of Finitude. New York: Routledge, 2016, 14.

² Grieg, Pete. Dirty Glory. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 2016, 11.

My last article traced an introduction to my experience with panic attacks and this second part closes with further reflections on why I am (unexpectedly) thankful for them. In January of this past year, I took time for my first personal retreat weekend in Cornwall at a stately manor home, with a weekend set aside for reading and reflection in solitude. I have been discovering the richness and joy of the gift of solitude.

I thank God that these panic attacks were a catalyst to allow me to find new ways to listen to God’s voice.

During one of our teaching weeks at St. Mellitus, someone made the comment, “If you cannot hear the voice of God, be encouraged! You are learning to hear Him in new ways.” In the desert places, in the wilderness, in the seeking, in the doubt, I discover the new joy of a faith that has been part of all of my life, and specifically the comfort of the presence of Christ. This doesn’t mean that I have learned spectacular new tricks of hearing God’s voice, but rather that I am seeking God’s presence in ordinary ways, even in my places of pain. As one of the great fathers of the faith wrote, “God cannot guide you in any way that is not Christ-like. Jesus was supreme sanity…God is found most clearly and beneficially in the normal rather than in the abnormal. And Jesus is the Normal, for He is the Norm.”¹

Panic attacks became a plague to my sanity, but Jesus Christ, the great Healer, carried “healing in His wings” (Malachi 4:2) and walked with me, even when I needed to learn to trust Him in new and deeper ways than ever before. I have rediscovered, in the words of John Baillie, that, “…Our knowledge of God rests on the revelation of his personal presence…of such a presence it must be true that to those who have never been confronted with it an argument is useless, whilst to those who have, it is superfluous.”² Before my panic attacks, I was convinced of God’s ability to speak. After my panic attacks and learning to attune to His voice and presence in new ways, I am more convinced than ever of His care and authority in my life.

I thank God that living through my panic attacks has given me a deeper compassion for those struggling with mental health and a gentleness in approaching the conversations around the way our mental, emotional, physical and spiritual lives are interlinked. According to the BBC and the annual health survey for England, “One in four adults has been diagnosed with a mental illness at some stage during their lifetime.”³

Despite the prevalence of this struggle, the topic of mental health and mental illness still feels taboo in much of Christian culture.

I mentioned earlier that I posted about my panic attacks publicly on Facebook (which you can view below). That post, on World Mental Health Day, gathered 600+ responses, 300+ comments, 45 shares, and many responding with their own stories of panic, anxiety, PTSD, shame, fear and heartache. The opportunity to explore these questions publicly has given me the space to seek healing personally and learn with friends. As Brene Brown writes:

“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of light.”⁵

As in so many other spaces of my life, my companions on the journey of pain have spoken grace, truth and light over my struggles.

And finally, I thank God for my panic attacks because they give me an expectation, a confidence, a hope that my God is still the One who brings beauty from ashes (Isaiah 61:1).

My panic attacks drew me closer to the love and person of Jesus Christ.

These struggles enable me to say with clarity, “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). Through our Spirituality module, we have explored a wide variety of Christian traditions and experience. One reading asked this question, “In short, does Jesus shed light on all aspects of human existence, or only those that have traditionally been associated with Christian spirituality?”⁵ It is a good and necessary question.

To ask it another way, does Jesus have something to say in and through my panic attacks? Is there space for this vocabulary within the breadth of Christian spirituality? Six months later, I can state with resounding confidence: Yes. Not only has Christ been present and brought help, healing and beauty to even the place of great pain and fear, but I have joined the companionship of the missionaries like Studd, the early desert mothers and fathers, the gentle St. Francis of Assisi, the modern Richard Foster to say, quite simply, that Jesus is my portion.

In light of these things, it is appropriate that I am in a continuing teaching and learning study at my home church, Tubestation, titled, Ancient and Awesome, drawing heavily from the classic book, Celebration of Discipline, by Richard Foster. Alongside my church family, I am rediscovering the joy of solitude, the depths of fasting, the intimacy of meditation, the freedom of submission. Like St. Francis, I am discovering that, “Christ wants you to go about in the world preaching, because God did not call you for yourself alone, but also for the salvation of others.”⁶ My journey of learning is far from finished, but my reflections have already proved valuable for the lives of many loved friends. I pray I continue to be brave enough to look at my own places of pain, darkness, panic, fear, distraction and mental health as spaces to invite a God who loves me to reveal more of Himself, even in my weaknesses.

¹ E. Stanley Jones, The Way (Nashville: Abingdon/Cokesbury, 1946), 283.
² John Baillie, Our Knowledge of God (New York: Charles Scribner’s, 1959), 132.³ https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-3…
⁴ Brene Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection (Center City: Hazelden, 2010), 6.
⁵ Marc Cortez, Christological Anthropology in Historical Perspective (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2016), 22.
⁶ Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline, (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1989), 223.

My panic attacks first started at the beginning of the summer of 2017, before I embarked on my study of theology. After 33 years of life and ministry, I had experienced mild depression, periods of distraction, weeping and grief, but never anything that deeply challenged my own mental health. The catalyst was hearing of yet another spiritual leader who had entered into moral failure. It was not the first time I had seen failure in my leaders, and it will not be the last, but this leader’s failure shook me to the core. I experienced doubts and discouragement beyond any previous period of my life. My thoughts went along these lines: If this leader has failed, then will it only be a matter of time until I fail in a significant way? And if this leader has failed, was everything they preached publicly and taught privately untrue? In the midst of these questions, I lost sight of truth. My questions and tears blurred my view of God.

After the initial grief, the panic attacks began.

It was usually when I was eating alone, always when I was overtired. For no apparent reason, often on a day that was otherwise full of joy and activity, I would end up in a moment of isolation or loneliness, and in that moment, I would lose sight of truth. Isolation turned to tears, tears turned to panic, panic turned to fear. In that instant, I would suddenly believe things that I surely know are false in the light of day. I believed that I was alone, worthless, forgotten, unloved. Our minds are strange and curious things. I discovered that mine held insecurities I never knew existed. They may have been lurking in the shadows, but in a moment, they grew in strength. They grew stronger than my faith. When my panic attacks began, I asked a few close friends to pray for me. Over the past few months, I have discovered how many have struggled with panic attacks, more than I’ve ever realized. I’m still on the journey of learning about them, although I haven’t had one since I posted about them publicly on my personal Facebook page in October of last year. Like the desert fathers and mothers, I found myself in the midst of a great struggle, but unlike their stories, my struggle and asceticism was not by choice.

During the time of my panic attacks, I looked for healing in many different ways. Speaking to trusted friends brought some relief, as their compassion extended grace to my life. A range of vitamins brought balance to my physical health. A few suggestions, including the immensely practical option of laying spread-eagled on the ground, sometimes with a book on my chest to remind me I am still grounded to earth, brought support. I engaged deeply with spiritual disciplines, including a 10-day silent retreat in Tunisia, daily study and intentional reflection on God’s Word, alongside prayer disciplines gleaned from personal friends and instructors. Prayer became more than just my petitions. Like the desert fathers and mothers, I discovered that “prayer was a continuous way of life…it was intentionally cultivated until it became second nature. Prayer involved the hard work of learning a new language – the language of heaven…the heart yearning for God, reaching out…”²

Scripture is not silent on the topic of mental health.

We read of Elijah, the great warrior prophet, who after one of his greatest spiritual victories, flees to the wilderness and asks God to take away his life (1 Kings 19:4). The Psalms continually echo with anguish, as the Psalmist prays about a life spent with sorrow, years with sighing (Psalm 31:10). Paul tells us that he “boasts of the things that show his weakness” (2 Corinthians 11:30). Despite this, in modern Christian culture, discussing panic attacks can be taboo. My embarrassment about my place of weakness made me want to cover, to hide and to put my best face forward. Most of our culture’s stereotypes about mental health lead to shame, which will always cripple. It says that if we are weak, we are worthless. If we have struggles, we should be sidelined. If we experience places of darkness, we must not be seeking the light. To quote one of my theology teachers at St. Mellitus, Rob Merchant: “Sin drives humanity into the shadows. The Creator is the one who comes into the light and asks, ‘Where are you?’ seeking relationship, not shame.”³

Within this journey, there have been five key reflections, five reasons that I can look back, and quite simply, thank God for my panic attacks. An active study of theology has informed and shaped these reflections, and experiencing the panic attacks in the midst of our spirituality module has brought rich opportunity to reflect on not only the physical challenge, but the weightier spiritual implications. It is by God’s grace I can reflect with thankfulness on my panic attacks and look at this time of pain through the lens of God’s presence rather than His absence. I write from a place of active learning, listening to the voice of the Lord, practicing the presence of God’s Spirit and expecting that growth to continue.

First, I thank God that I was not isolated in my fears and the struggles linked to it.

Not only is Christian history and tradition full of the stories of men and women who struggled with panic and depression, God’s Word is full of many of the same stories. At every corner I turned, in many social media posts, in every theology book I read, in various reflections and readings, this recurring theme of panic, fear and depression seemed boldly highlighted. In addition to well-known historic figures like C. H. Spurgeon, Abraham Lincoln and others who struggled with depression, I encountered the writings of legendary missionary C. T. Studd, who articulated his journey on the mission field in China in this way: “My heart seems worn out and bruised beyond repair, and in my deep loneliness I often wish to be gone.”⁴ This companionship of suffering encouraged me to face my questions with boldness, expectant that there was a way God would speak to me in the midst of this battle. In the words of modern author, John Mark Comer, “My take on depression is that it’s more of a symptom than a disease. That something in your life is causing the depression…what’s underneath the depression? The root under the ground?”⁵

Second, I thank God for using this journey to develop an active humility.

Finding the root and digging into the pain was not an easy process. It required (and still requires) an ongoing vulnerability, an unrelenting honesty about my own weakness, and a willingness to lay my pain and shame into the open, before God first and others second. Most of my adult life, I have been surrounded by friends and family who loved me, but journeying in humility through my pain and questions required a necessary solitude. It was in the spaces where my soul was still before God that I began to find healing for the deeper questions that triggered my panic. Solitude became a space for my soul to experience the deeper presence of God, and the words of Henri Nouwen became true in my own life. He writes:

“Solitude is the garden for our hearts, which yearn for love. It is the place where our aloneness can bear fruit. It is the home for our restless bodies and anxious minds … Solitude is not immediately satisfying, because in solitude we meet our demons, our addictions, our feelings of lust and anger, and our immense need for recognition and approval. But if we do not run away, we will meet there also the One who says, ‘Do not be afraid. I am with you, and I will guide you through the valley of darkness.'”⁶

I find that in many ways, the journey continues. This post shares an introduction, and my next post will give three further reflections on God’s grace and kindness in the midst of my experience with panic attacks. I’d love to hear from you. Comment on my article post shared on the CalvaryChapel.com Facebook account. Have you had similar experiences? And how has God revealed Himself in yours?

¹ See Facebook post below on 10 October, 2017.

² Laura Swan, The Forgotten Desert Mothers: Sayings, Lives and Stories of Early Christian Women (Mahway, NJ: Paulist Press, 2001) 27.
³ As quoted in class on Tuesday, 10 October at St. Mellitus SouthWest Plymouth campus.
⁴ Norman Grubb, C. T. Studd (Fort Washington, PA: CLC, 1982), 144.
⁵ John Mark Comer, Garden City: Work, Rest, and the Art of Being Human (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2015), 18.
⁶ Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey (San Francisco, CA: Harper San Francisco, 1997), 26.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…” (John 1:14).

Christmas is a celebration of God in His humanity. Our faith is unique among world religions for this simple belief: Our God chose to stoop, to lower Himself, to become one of us. All of God’s Word to man became flesh and lived with us.

We read in Genesis 1:2 of a time when “the earth was without form and void.” From that formlessness, the Creation story tells us that God simply spoke, and at His word, light danced, waters separated, earth sprouted, waters swarmed, livestock and creeping things and beasts of the earth came to be. God spoke and “it was so” (Genesis 1:24).

But when it came to humanity, God chose to do something different, something far more personal. While Creation exists simply at His word, this first man, this Adam, was not spoken into existence – he was formed:

“Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature” (Genesis 2:7).

This Hebrew word for dust is aphar, and it can mean “clay,” “earth,” “mud,” “ashes,” “ground,” “mortar,” “powder” or even “rubbish.” Formed from clay, holding the very breath of God, man’s story begins.

Our fragility is still evident to this day. We bruise, and at times, these bruises fester under the surface of our hearts. We crack, and the repairs are imperfect, pressure points still evident. We dread the firing process that will glaze our earthen vessels.

Throughout the Old Testament, we are reminded often that we are but clay:

“Remember that you have made me like clay; and will you return me to the dust?” (Job 10:9).

“For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14).

Over and over, the frailty of our humanity is echoed into the story until Matthew and Luke tell us of the extraordinary, history-shaping moment when the God of all the universe steps into the womb of an unwed mother named Mary, entering into clay.

Think of the most beautiful thing you have created, written, shaped, painted, designed. And then imagine choosing to become that thing.

This is the smallest glimpse of what God has done for us. The incarnation of Christ tells us that God, fully God, stepped into human flesh to become Man, fully Man. Because of the humanity of our God in Jesus Christ, we can be confident of three things (and many more):

First, our God is among us as the One who serves.

As we read in Philippians 2:7, He “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” Our world celebrates big reputations (see Taylor Swift’s most recent album release), yet ours is the God who chose no reputation to transform our lives, minds and hearts.

Second, our God understands weakness.

In our places of pain and longing, He knows what it is to suffer and, “He can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is beset with weakness” (Hebrews 5:2). Jesus, the Word become flesh, is the God who knows the pain of a paper cut and the heartbreak of betrayal by a best friend. He chose to enter these pains so that He would be a God near, not far, from us.

Finally, our God has lived (the life we could not live), died (the death we could not die) and lives forevermore.

In the last book of the Bible, John has a vision of Jesus, and the living Son of God tells Him these things: “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades” (Revelation 1:17-18). This truth gives us an eternal confidence, that the Baby born in a manger is also the King who lives forever.

What then is our response to these things? To quote John Stott in Basic Christianity:

“If you read the Bible you’ll see that nobody who ever met Jesus Christ ever had a moderate reaction to him. There are only three reactions to Jesus: they either hated him and wanted to kill him, they were afraid of him and wanted to run away, or they were absolutely smitten with him and they tried to give their whole lives to him…”

Let’s be fully smitten, absolutely adoring, ever in love this Christmas season and give our whole lives away because of this love.

When was the last time you were overwhelmed? Last month? Last year? Earlier today? At this very moment?

I have been reading in 2 Samuel 21:15-22:7, and the idea of giants in our land. In these chapters, David is king of Israel. The chapters before held the story of the rebellion of a “worthless man,” a three-year famine, and at the beginning of the reading above, it says in the ESV that “David grew weary.”

I love the way the Bible very simply says it the way it is. It’s the difference between polish and truth, reality TV and reality, plastic perfection and downright honesty.

Just like us, David, man of God, was weary. In the midst of that weariness, he faces four literal giants. For the sake of our modern-day reading, each of them could be used as a picture of the things that overwhelm us.

1. Ishbi-Benob, the giant with the eight pound spear.

Ishbi-Benob setting out to literally kill David is like a picture of the things that are life-threatening. The sudden cancer, the health issues, the worries that steal our soul’s health and distract us from joy, are a picture of John 10:10, the thief came to steal, kill and destroy. As that verse also so beautifully reminds us, Jesus came that we might have life – and have it more abundantly!

2. Saph, the next giant, comes immediately on the heels of Ishbi-Benob.

Perhaps we can allow him to be a picture of the things that you can’t seem to defeat, the sins and problems that keep coming back. (Eavesdropping on ancient Israeli soldier: Another giant! Didn’t we just kill one last week?!?) Jesus talks about besetting sins in Matthew 18:7-9, and he simply tells us to be ruthless with the sins and distractions that keep coming back. His example is so clear that He even advises us to cut off the parts of our body that would cause us to sin! The moment we leave space for sin, it enters in with strength.

3. Goliath the Gittite is the third giant, carrying the shaft of his spear like a weaver’s beam.

To me, he represents the burdens that are heavy, the ones that threaten to carry you over the edge. To these giants, I borrow from 1 Peter 5:7 this very simple reminder: Cast your cares on Jesus. He cares for you.

4. The final giant is unnamed but well-described.

He has six fingers, six toes, 24 appendages in all. He stands and taunts Israel, mocking them. This final giant stands for all the things that are more than we can count, the obstacles that taunt us, claiming their success, power and authority in our lives. And against these things, Psalm 108:11-13 gives the beautifully simple prayer – grant us help against the foe. Vain is the salvation of man.

As David faced these giants, surrounded by the friends who went into battle with him, his response was simply to worship. 2 Samuel 22 is a song of his confidence in God.

To the things that were life-threatening, he said God was his fortress, rock, deliverer, shield, refuge, horn and stronghold (vs 2-3). Against the battles he couldn’t defeat, he called upon the Lord, who is worthy, and he was saved (vs 4). In the midst of the heavy burdens, where the waves of death encompassed him and the cords of Sheol ensnared him, he didn’t minimize the presence of the pain (vs 5-6). When the distresses felt like they were more than he could count, he simply called out to the Lord, with confidence that God heard his voice (vs 7).

Are there giants in the land? Of course. This is true in America and England, and every other place our lives carry us. But the giants are put in perspective by the great love of a great God. Romans 8:35-39 gives us a beautiful reminder that nothing will ever separate us from His love. May we rejoice in the truth of His love, today and forever.

Which would be worse… to stay and watch your country torn apart by war or to travel days on end through bitter cold to escape the suffering? Winter is a terrible, beautiful thing. We speak of the winter of our souls, the icy seasons where we cannot see or feel the voice of God.

Scripture dances around this idea of cold, speaking of the God who hurls down ice crystals like crumbs (Psalms 147:17), the one who makes snow and mist, stormy wind fulfill His word (Psalms‬ ‭148:8‬). ‬‬

Today I write from Serbia…

Where the only adjective for cold is the predictable one: It is bitter. It seeps through layers, beneath gloves, finds any exposed area and turns it chafing red and chapped. I’m a tourist, essentially; here for a few days of refugee ministry, able to find shelter, blankets, kettles and restaurants. Even if I sleep in my coat, I sleep with walls around me, guarding the winds and snow.

In the streets of Belgrade, several thousand men sleep in this cold. A few have tents, some pallets; a few more curl up at night in an abandoned, smokey building. All are refugees. The scene in Serbia and the refugee crisis are reminiscent of so many places where we ask God: Why? Why are so many displaced? Why are the borders closed? Why are the countries in shambles? Why do we only see men here? Uncurling the tendrils and the political implications of their conclusions is the work of our generation, and a bigger one than this article can answer, but today, I want to respond to the why with one story of hope.

When the mass exodus began from Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Syria, a group of men found themselves in the refugee camp at Debrecen in Hungary. They had no connection from their home country but found themselves united against the strange foreignness of the Magyar.

During their time in the camp, they heard about Jesus from a pastor affectionately known as Bodi. The more they learned, the more they loved him. Soon, their hunger for the Word of God became evident to many. They were baptized, discipled, and on their eventual release from the camp, found their way to Budapest.

Over 20 Farsi-speaking attendees meant “Golgota” in Budapest (the Hungarian word for Calvary) needed to provide translation, support and small Bible studies. So they did. In January, in the bitterness of cold and winter, I met many of these men. We sat in a circle, and they told us snippets of their stories, glimpses of a war-torn fleeing that somehow became the salvation of more than just their bodies.

In the winter of our souls, God is moving.

In the unanswered whys, He whispers His love. In the refugee “crisis,” He sends more than just the crumbs of His love. Find out more about the work of God in Hungary and Serbia and how you can connect; visit CCBCE.

But perhaps in contrast to that first question: Which would be better? To stay forever safe, wrapped in the boundaries of what you know? Or to step into even what is cold and bitter and discover a God who is Immanuel, with us? “As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything” (2 Corinthians‬ ‭6:10). ‬

It is always easier to focus on the cracks and the controversy than to seek and proclaim the good. I remember spending hours discussing what would happen to Calvary Chapel when Pastor Chuck passed away. It was at the time a foreign and fascinating concept that he might someday not be the leader of our church family. Much has been written of his legacy and recorded of his preaching.

If Pastor Chuck Smith was still alive today, these are some of the stories I think he would love to hear:

In Ostend, Belgium, there is a woman named Ingrid. She started listening to Greg Laurie online, and as she did, her hunger for the Word of God grew. She began to listen and read and grow, and her bookshelves are lined with books from Greg Laurie, Jeff Lasseigne, Brian Brodersen, Warren Wiersbe and Randy Alcorn. The teaching of the Word of God made her hungry for the Word of God.

There is a young woman named Abby. She grew up in California, both of her parents speaking regularly at churches around the world. She lived through horrible heartbreaks, the unexpected death of a sister and has visited more churches than most pastors. She fell in love with Jesus at Calvary Chapel Bible College York.

There is a young man named Will. His family are atheists, lawyers and Belgian. He loved America, visited Mississippi, met a group of fiery Christians and became one himself, reading his Bible alone in his room. God gave him a great burden to preach the Gospel, so he went to Bible college in Siegen, learned to preach from David Guzik and continued learning and teaching in York.

He met Abby. She baked cookies for his family. They fell in love and lived in England.

Ingrid in Belgium began to share about this Calvary Chapel Bible teaching. She met a woman called Grace, from India, who prayed and studied with her. They wanted this kind of teaching at their church in Belgium.

One day, they saw that Brian Brodersen was in England for a festival called Creation Fest. So close! They called the house where he was staying, put in a request, and waited.

It’s not a quick story, and I’m skimming the surface of many details, but I hope I am giving enough that you can capture the beauty of Will, the Belgian man, and Abby, the bubbly American girl, committed to lead the men and women at Pilgrim Calvary Chapel in the corner of Belgium near the seaside.

In early December, they had their first Women’s Christmas Tea, inspired by the ones we’ve seen for many years. Almost 70 women came. At least two met Jesus.

In Belgium .001% of the population follows Christ. But I’ve met some of that fraction percentage, and they are beautiful and growing in the Word of God. Sylvie, a Belgian woman led to Christ by her Rwandan husband and Anouk who will never have children but cares for many. Steve, who moved from Bognor Regis to Belgium and organizes the thousand unseen details of church administration.

What will happen to Calvary Chapel? We will continue to speak the Word of God.

The Spirit will lead the Ingrids and Graces, call the Wills and Abbys and anoint the people for the places with their purpose. Today, in unexpected corners of the world, these are the continuing legacies of a faithful teaching of the Word of God. It is our great joy to carry His Word to our world.

I sat next to a beautiful woman I have met only twice, and she told me about her divorce and liturgical background, her ex-husband’s remarriage and her newly discovered growth as a single mother. Then she said to me, “I like the idea of following God. But I don’t really understand Jesus.”

When you grow up as a Christian kid, you hear many analogies of the Trinity, the egg, the apple (complete with illustrated picture book or water.) You hear God preached as three in one, Father, Son and Spirit. It wasn’t until last year that I realized how insanely difficult it can be to explain a Trinitarian God to someone who is new to faith or exploring Christianity.

Add it to the list – of new wine in old wineskins, tongues of fire, Pharisees and Sadducees – include it on the long list of concepts and Scriptures so ingrained in our Christian vocabulary that we sometimes forget how impossibly strange they sound to a generation that have forsaken belief in God as antiquated, restrictive and just a little bit weird.

About a year ago, I was studying the passage in Hebrews: “By faith we understand that the universe was created (framed) by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible” (Hebrews‬ ‭11:3).‬ ‬‬‬‬

The picture that God gave me at that time in that study was this picture of creation: Imagine that in the Trinity (God, three in one), the Father gave the vision of creation. The Son built the framework, and the Spirit hovered over the details or the deep.

And where there was nothing in the beginning but God, there became something, the revealing of a triune Creator who created us and called His handiwork, “Good.”

This same work is what God is doing as He recreates us.

God, ever the creative designer, sends His Son, Jesus, the Carpenter, King, Friend, Servant, Savior, Miracle Worker. All of this is revealed by the Spirit of God who is changing us from glory to glory.

I shared this analogy because it felt more real than the apple, water droplets or egg, while this woman, who I’ve only met twice, sat, listened and nodded.

Yesterday I saw her, for the third time, at a church I’ve visited. Before she slipped out, she leaned over and said, “Thank you for telling me that story of Jesus. I told my friend and for the first time ever, it helps me want to know Jesus. It helped us understand why we want to know Him.”

There are a thousand ways we can tell the story of Christ and the message of the Gospel. There are many pictures, examples and far richer theology than eternity can contain on the joys of the Trinitarian God who was perfect in relationship and created us to be with Him.

My conversation with this woman reminded me to passionately learn theology. Know scripture. Study well. Share it broadly. If the message of the Gospel is one that we only parrot because our pastor told us so, it will immediately be seen as fake and insincere.

Who is Jesus?

Jesus is the Son of God who came in the likeness of God. When we see him, we recognize and trust who God is.

The stamp of His character reveals His love. Jesus is the builder. In Him all things consist and are held together. He built a world. Became God’s word to that world. Loved us in life and to death. Overcame death and hell to live forevermore. Made us holy. Sat down in heaven. Will return with nail-scarred hands to build a new world and give us life forevermore.

I leaned over to the woman and whispered back, “I’m so glad you are learning to love Jesus.” The more you know Him, the more you love Him.

For many years I have loved Jesus. I cannot remember a time when I did not (my parents and pastors and lifelong friends are a testimony of how I knew that love). I grew up, deeply rooted in the Word of God at Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa and deeply received the love of God through His people.

As I grow in years and hopefully in maturity, I find more and more why I love Jesus.

Today I write from Kyrgyzstan, one of the few double landlocked countries in the world. It has held independence for 25 years this year. The people are kind, gracious, friendly, but most do not speak English. My non-existent Russian and Kyrgyz means I am mostly relegated to elaborate sign language to communicate with mixed results. As I walked through one of the main university streets, walking through a sea of faces, all equally unfamiliar and foreign, I was listening to the new United Pursuit album, “Looking for a Savior,” and was struck by these words:

“I am looking for a Savior
I can see and know and touch
One who dwells within the midst us
May a broken God be known
In the earth beneath our feet,
May our souls behold humility.”
-Will Regan, United Pursuit

Yet again I am rediscovering why I love Jesus. As we know well and probably have memorized: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬

The incarnation of God as Jesus Christ is one of the most beautiful proofs of His love for us. To the people who could not understand the Gospel, for we who were blinded by sin, distracted by lust, discouraged by our burdens to us, the people He had created, God came.

The more I see of Jesus, the more I love Him.

He is the radiant expression of the love of the Father. He is Himself grace and truth. All that our souls long for and desire is found in Jesus. And yet we read and see that these words are also still true in our world today: “He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not” (Isaiah 53:3).‬ ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬

The love of God incarnate is not always instantly recognized and embraced. I am one of the fortunate few who grew up in a loving and Christ-centered community. As I grow and travel, I realize increasingly how scarce these communities are.

The love of Jesus is no less precious to the isolated believer. I met a woman yesterday who came to Christ from a nominal Muslim background. In her words: “And then I met Jesus. And the moment I walked out of that church, my soul was full of love and peace and tranquility. I found what I didn’t even know I was missing.” We are looking for a Savior, one we can see and know, who is familiar with our joys and our sorrows. Of the many reasons we love Jesus, today I am most captivated by the simple truth of His humanity.

Even if they don’t yet know what they are missing, our world is hungry for Jesus.

There is an old missionary maxim: pray, send or go.

If you are a follower of Jesus in America, will you commit some time to pray today that Christ would be made known in many places? Perhaps pray especially for Pasha and Tiffany, living and loving Jesus in Bishkek. If you are in the position to do so, perhaps ask God who you can help send to the mission field. Are there friends you can encourage in their journey? Are there ways you can financially support the command of Christ to “Go?”

And last but not least, Matthew 28:20 is for all. What does it look like for us to obey the call of Christ and make Jesus known? His love and life incarnate is the most beautiful truth we know. To close with yet another beautiful but slightly more classic hymn:

I will serve Thee because I love Thee
You have given life to me.
I was nothing before You found me,
You have given life to me.

Heartaches, broken pieces,
Ruined lives are why You died on Calvary.
Your touch was what I longed for,
You have given life to me.

-I Will Serve Thee, William J. and Gloria Gaither

As soon as the average person in the United Kingdom finds out I am a Christian, I battle their instant suspicion. Eyes narrow, voices change pitch, occasionally silence ensues. I immediately identify myself as being on some sort of team, and not one they are very comfortable knowing. I’ve been asked all sorts of questions:

“What kind of Christian?”
“Do you really believe the Bible is true?”
“Are you going to tell me that I’m going to hell now?”

It makes me wonder where and how the people I meet have developed their perception of Christianity. I am sometimes bewildered at how we have become so suspicious.

I recently heard a Scottish preacher named David Robertson speaking in Glasgow. He explained that we still teach in our churches at a level three or four for spiritual knowledge, but the average Scot today is at a level zero. One of his many excellent points was the reminder: “This is a beautiful opportunity.”

If you’re reading this, you probably know Jesus. His words and work have changed your life. You know that there’s nothing suspicious about the God who became man, spent 30 years in relative obscurity, lived three years of documented, holy love and stretched out His arms, giving His life to pay the price we could not pay.

We know Jesus. But by and large, our world doesn’t.

In the increasingly post-Christian generation, which is fully realized in the U.K. and Europe and increasingly close in America, Christ is more often a swear word than a Savior.

We are faced with the opportunity and challenge of writing, painting, posting, explaining and living in light of a Gospel that is foreign to our world. Every day I am reminded how foreign the love of God is to our natural state of being.

Most of the missionaries of previous decades had to translate the Word of God into Quechua and Mandarin, Arabic and Farsi. I recently read a novel where a modern space missionary translated the Bible into an alien language. The work of Bible translators is deeply important, valuable and continuing.

But may I suggest that for our generation, to our culture, our calling is to translate God’s love even to those who speak our language.

To a generation that has only known broken homes and broken promises, how will they understand a faithful love? To a culture that has only heard rampant profanity and vulgar jokes, how will they learn holiness? To a people who have witnessed hypocrisy, pride, adultery and betrayal inside the church, how can they grasp grace?

God in His infinite mercy has many ways to love a “level zero” spiritual culture.

He’s not worried, I’m sure, about His own relevance. The strength of His love is bigger than wary suspicions.

It is in light of this love that I am increasingly confident in being sent to even the English-speaking, tea-drinking, car-driving, bill-paying, unchurched atheists of our generation. From what I have seen over the past two years living in England, our world is desperate for the translated life of men and women who love God.

“Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, who has made us sufficient to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:4-6). ‬ ‭‬‬‬
May God send us out, living letters of His Word. I long for the day when I meet random strangers in public places and say, “I’m a Christian.” And they respond with joy and expectation that the people of God, knowing the love of God, carry the best news ever given. That we are loved.

In the Christian life, there is a tenuous balance between confident faith and foolish promises. At times we are called to live with expectant hope that God does more, far more than our wildest dreams, as Ephesians so beautifully explains.

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen” (Ephesians 3:20-21). ‬ ‬‬‬‬

At the same time…I have been in situations where individuals have moved forward outside the bounds of logic or wisdom.

“God will provide,” I’ve heard. And then….He doesn’t. How many times have we experienced heaven, silent?

I was speaking recently to a large group and asked that question. A nine-year-old boy put his hand up. When I called on him, he responded, “God doesn’t always answer my questions.” I told him that doesn’t change just because we grow up. It would be simplest then to dream only logical, rational, attainable dreams. If our expectations are manageable, our emotions should be as well. Yet throughout Scripture, the opposite seems true. God is at work, even beyond our questions and doubts, in ways that exceed even our wildest dreams.

If you have a dream or calling that is bigger than your understanding, here are three questions that I believe can shape our “big dreams.”

1. Was this dream one you created or one that God truly gave?

One of the most beautifully gentle rebukes in Scripture is found below:

“Let not your mouth lead you into sin, and do not say before the messenger that it was a mistake. Why should God be angry at your voice and destroy the work of your hands? For when dreams increase and words grow many, there is vanity; but God is the one you must fear” (Ecclesiastes 5:6-7). ‬ ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬

2. Does this dream draw hearts closer to God or pull hearts away from Him?

Scripture overflows with promises of the blessing of God, but His loving command toward us requires obedience.

“Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” ‭‭(Psalms 37:3-4). ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Dreams hold the fluttering of our heart cries. The beauty of this passage is the promise that our sheer delight in God leads to the dreams and desires of our heart, aligned with His heart, freely given.

3. Has this dream been confirmed?

To me, the simplest explanation for this is the quote below:

“Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall. For in this way there will be richly provided for you an entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 1:10-11). ‬ ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬

Throughout my life, the call and dream of God has exceeded even my wildest expectations. I never imagined I would live internationally, share the Gospel broadly and write regularly. Some of these were dreams, but most of God’s work in my life has been the reality of His love expanding my heart’s vision and desires.

Why do we dream big?

Because God so loved the world, every last one that He gave His only begotten Son, precious beyond price. Because of that gift whosoever will believe shall be saved.

That’s an impossibly big dream. He has sent us to share the unimaginably good news to everyone we meet: We are loved. We dream big because we are deeply loved.

I’ve been thinking, reading and studying quite a bit around the topic of idolatry lately. I know. Idolatry. It’s not necessarily the word on the tip of our tongues. Most recently, I was reading this verse: “Their idols are like scarecrows in a cucumber field, and they cannot speak; they have to be carried, for they cannot walk. Do not be afraid of them, for they cannot do evil, neither is it in them to do good.” There is none like you, O Lord; you are great, and your name is great in might” ‭‭(Jeremiah 10:5-6).‬ ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬During my time in California, I didn’t spend time in any fields. I knew that food grew in them, and that someone had to water, plant and harvest. But I had no idea what the actual process looked like. Two years ago, I moved to Cornwall. I still have much to learn, but I discovered the value of a good scarecrow. The contrast in this passage is quite a simple one.

The things we worship, the idols that distract our hearts from God, are about as powerful as a mute, fixed, pole-like image.

They hold a purpose, but a purpose without any eternal power or might. They’re about as effective as scarecrows in a cucumber field. Idolatry can seem like another word for another culture. It reminds me of Buddhist temples and faraway calls to prayer. Perhaps you have been to these places, climbed the stairs while monkeys tugged at your skirt, stood in front of golden statues with incense and honey mingling in your nostrils.

The remnants of idols seem to belong to places like these, which is why it is so startling to find this verse closing 1 John: “Little children, keep yourselves from idols” (1 John 5:21). ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬It would be easy to take this Scripture and explain it away as we do with so many others… “Oh that’s for someone else…Or for another context…Another place…That one’s not for me.” The Word of God speaks truth to our hearts, and it is truth for today.

Threaded throughout the Old Testament, we have this picture of idols. They are worshipped by the old and the young, and the ultimate reality is that idols reveal not a tangible figurine but the state of our hearts, and the ultimate, continuing desire of God is, “That I may lay hold of the hearts of the house of Israel, who are all estranged from me through their idols” ‭‭(Ezekiel 14:5). ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

In my life, an idol is A N Y thing that takes place in my heart above my love for God.

That becomes a challenging criterion. Because if I wrote this question: “Who worships idols?” The response would be minimal. But if I ask: “Have we ever loved something more than God?” The question pierces with a different depth. The answer is inextricably woven with any object, person, desire, or opinion that has ever consumed our hearts and affections with ferocity; anything that has, holds the place of overriding passion in our lives.

We can choose to make idols out of very good things: ministry, family, friendships, coffee, video games, films, or fun. To quote one of my pastors, Britt Merrick, “We know it is an idol when we begin to sacrifice for it.” And in my own life, even when they have been beautiful, idols blind my love for an eternal God. To borrow a phrase from Jane Eyre that describes two years of my life: “I could not, in those days, see God for His creature, of whom I had made an idol.”

The steadfast love of God is unfailing, but in our modern world, we are still seeking a tangible source of hope for our success and identity. The comment of Jonah, with the clarity of three days ensconced in the belly of a fish, feels remarkably modern: “Those who pay regard to vain idols forsake their hope of steadfast love” (Jonah 2:8‬). ‭‬‬‬‬‬‬

The passage from 1 John so simply, so beautifully, so lovingly reminds us that there is a best word for our lives. Our God delights in loving us, and He very simply says this: “Little children, keep yourselves from idols” (1 John 5:21)‬. ‬‬‬‬His word is a guard and a guide to our hearts. For the people or things who pull our soul from God and the ideas that distract our hearts, may I recommend the expulsive power of a greater affection?

It is hard, if not impossible, to simply say: Stop loving your idols. Stop desiring distractions.

But it is easy to pray this: “God, give me a greater affection for you and for the things of your Spirit.” In Jeremiah, God didn’t mock the scarecrows and the cucumber fields. He didn’t need to. When we see an idol for what it really is, the attraction and appeal fades very quickly.

“Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies” ‭‭(Philippians 4:8-9 MSG‬‬‬).‬‬‬