As ministers of the Gospel, may we always remember that no one is too far from God’s love and forgiveness! He is not far from each one of us, and he is at work through his Spirit, drawing all sorts of people towards Godself.
As ministers of the Gospel, may we always remember that no one is too far from God’s love and forgiveness! He is not far from each one of us, and he is at work through his Spirit, drawing all sorts of people towards Godself.
It is true that our movement has always valued Scripture as being “useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” We know that “the world” can be an enemy to us, and so we will always need to recognize situations where we need to hold on, be faithful, and separate ourselves from the world. In other words, we can’t assume that relevance solves our problems – we might have to be willing to be “different.”
The world doesn’t need more loud Christians; it needs more loving ones. It doesn’t need more social media judges; it needs more humble restorers. When we judge, let’s judge with the heart of Christ — full of compassion, forgiveness, and hope. Let’s trade our stones for open hands that lift the fallen.
We know that hitting people over the head with the Bible and proclaiming the wrongness of their actions doesn’t work. We’ve often been embarrassed that our well-intentioned but judgmental practices of the past left deep wounds and were certainly not effective evangelistic tools. At the same time, it feels two-faced to keep quiet.
And for those of us who are tempted in these ways, let me offer a gentle reminder: You don’t have to force your way into God’s kingdom. You don’t have to compete for Jesus’ attention. You don’t have to prove that you belong. Your task is simply this: to accept that God accepts you.
I can’t help but wonder how we would each be shaped and formed by the idea of our prayers all beginning with us sitting in the long and loving gaze of the triune God. The idea that God delights in our being and the piece of Himself that He has placed in all of us.
Love is the ministry of presence. Love knew that I did not need to be alone. And yet, love understood that no words were needed. Love in the form of these two young friends who came into my home to simply be present with me in my pain. Love sat with me. Love listened to me. And it was powerful.
To me, chaplaincy is the art of presence. It’s about stepping into the unknown, where the tapestry of life unfolds in unexpected ways. We arrive, often unaware of the stories that await us or the roles we will play. Yet we stand ready, like sentinels of faith, poised for the perfect moment to weave our threads into the fabric of the present.
As I reflect on the words “Let the little children come to me and don’t hinder them for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven” (Luke 18:15–17), I envision the golden gates of heaven being thrown open and little children everywhere running around with the purest joy you can imagine. Big smiles, no earthly ailments to hinder their physical abilities. I imagine the happiest moment in my life, but instead of just reliving that one moment, it’s a feeling that never ends. But today, this scripture has a whole different personal meaning when I hear it.
I was reminded in this encounter of how adaptable chaplains have to be on a daily basis. We show up for the crises but also the liminal space of the unknown. And where others see barriers, we often see an opportunity to build a bridge.
To what extent may generative AI tools be appropriately used in the process of sermon preparation? Does this use eliminate the role of the Holy Spirit and the transformative process on the homiletician?
My first reaction towards someone who offends me is to take revenge, not to forgive— especially if the offense is serious or repeated. But when I consider what God has forgiven me, I understand the unpayable nature of my debt toward God, and I’m prompted to forgive.
I know that, in my home church, we are all-in on making disciples. Kingdom growth. I spend a lot of time talking to church leaders about reaching lost people. That is the dream that I want to be real in my life and my church.
In order to evangelize in a way that is responsive to our communities, we need to place ourselves in the role of learners, entering into a two-way dialogue. We need to practice both observation and active listening. We need to listen without judgement as we seek to understand what others are saying, feeling, and doing.
We truly, sincerely, want to be more like Christ. But do we really? I ask this only because it seems our impatience and avoidance of others is truly impressive. We have perfected the art of being angry, passive-aggressive, inflammatory, and obnoxious gloaters when things go our way.
Most congregations are already creating worship services, small-group experiences, and service opportunities that embody intergenerational ministry. However, many church leaders do not give language to these dynamics. Therefore, I always remind leaders to begin using language that describes for their church where intergenerational moments are happening.
What does it look like to move from exclusion to representation to inclusion? It was a hard question to wrestle with because it meant that we had to acknowledge all of the ways that we were falling short.
God didn’t just decide the color of my eyes or my hair or how tall I would be. He decided if I would be an introvert or an extrovert, if I would see the world through my thoughts or my feelings, if I would be funny or unusually perceptive. He chose my natural gifts and the gifts that would be developed with practice.
Take the opportunity. Tell the good news. Keep the main thing the main thing. Jesus died for our sins, he was buried, and God raised him from the dead. Ask God to keep you focused on the message. Ask to keep on task. Ask God to remind you of what you ought to do.
What is the problem with the wicked? Well, they have no fear of God! The lack of fear for God is reflected in a concomitant lack of restraint. Fear, at its best, can teach us how to control ourselves.