This year has been a difficult and dark year. Globally, we’ve seen nations at war and the subsequent deaths of thousands. Nationally, we’ve seen political conflict leaving neighbors and families divided. News videos of violence, children crying, and people yelling fill our TV and phone screens. Amidst the global and national darkness, if you're anything like me, your personal life also has been filled with brokenness this year. Hardships in life have left me in pain, confused, and anxious about the future.

What do I do to deal with this darkness? You may be like me and try to mask the pain. You doomscroll the fears away. You entertain yourself with social events. You resort to humor. You try to convince others that you’ve got your life together. In other words, to cope with the darkness, we seek pleasure, fabricate our appearances, or blame our fears on others. But we know these things only keep us in the darkness. We try to find “light” in what’s ultimately vanity, but only find temporary satisfaction as we descend into deeper darkness. We need a way to overcome the darkness.

Amidst the darkness of this year, as the year ends, followers of Christ celebrate Advent. We remember the coming of the true light who came into the world, Jesus, the Son of God. We remember the hope, peace, joy, and love that Jesus ushered into the world, and we anticipate the fulfillment of those things when He comes again.
 
It would be foolish for me to claim that our world right now is filled completely with hope, peace, joy, and love. As followers of Christ, we know things aren't as they should be. The world is filled with darkness, but we should not despair. We proclaim along with the apostle John that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. No matter how dark, evil, distorted, or corrupt our world might be, the darkness has not overcome Jesus, it cannot. In fact, the opposite is true. Later in John’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples,

“In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

As we face tribulation, we can take heart knowing that Jesus is the light of the world, and is coming again soon.

But what do we do in the meantime? How do we wait well and not lose heart in a world that seems all too dark? How do we not fall into the trap of trying to find light in the things of the world? How do we overcome the darkness? We observe Advent as a time to remember the light of Christ overtaking the darkness.
 
One thing that I have found helpful is to marinate in the truth of who Jesus is, that He indeed is the light who has come into the world, and whom the darkness cannot overcome. Through prayer and scripture reading, I try to fix my eyes upon the truth of Jesus, and remember that in him is life and life abundant. This often proves to be difficult, and thus requires a removal of anything that might distract me from seeking the Lord.
 
When tempted to seek pleasure in status and experiences, I recall the words of a favorite hymn:

Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

I try to recognize that other helpers will fail and all other comforts flee. That I am helpless without our Lord.

Another thing is calling to mind the ways in which the light of Christ shines through those around me. I think of my wife’s joyful smile towards me when she comes home from work, and my son’s giggles as he prays before a meal. I think of the faithfulness of friends who are present during hospital stays, the silly notes of appreciation plastered by students on my office door, and the presence of friends around the dinner table during times of grief.
 
In all these things, through Advent, I see the light of Christ, and that He has overcome the darkness. The help I receive is not in the sense of pretending the darkness isn’t real, but in fixing my eyes upon the light of Christ through abiding with Jesus, addressing where I have sinned, and seeing His light shine through others. It’s in that abiding with Jesus that we, ourselves, are able to be a light to those around us.

My prayer is that you would know that no matter how dark the might have been for you, the darkness has not, cannot and will not overcome the Light of the world.

A couple of weeks ago, our OAG met for the first time since May. After a summer apart, getting together again was wonderful. The goal for the night was to share updates, snacks, and hugs. It was good to hear everyone talk about new school years, relational happenings, and what the Lord has been teaching them through life and work. We laughed a lot and cried some too. In the weeks to come, we will discuss the sermons and continue to pray with and over each other.

When I reflect on the men and women in our OAG, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness. I am thankful for the way they welcome us into their homes with hospitality and grace. I am thankful that they are trustworthy, and we can share our burdens without judgment. I am thankful for their attentive care of us and our kids. This past summer, our 14-year-old daughter reached out to the members of our small group, and they helped her coordinate a 25th wedding anniversary party for us. It was an incredible gift, and our kids were able to experience the joy of community in a tangible way.

Vulnerability can be incredibly challenging, especially in a larger group of people. We have found that our OAG is a place where not only is vulnerability allowed, it is encouraged. No one in our group has it all together. All of us bring our own messes and struggles, but we all come knowing we have been saved by grace through faith in Jesus, and He calls us to each other. We love our OAG so much that after 22 years, we abandoned our “regular seats” on Sunday mornings so we could sit closer to them!

We took this picture recently at OAG. We were missing some members, but here is our family photo.

I asked Mandy to share something God has been teaching him through his time in the Word, through a recent sermon series, or in community. These are her reflections.

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. James 1:27 ESV.

In August 2024, I took on the role of Executive Director of Christian Family Services (“CFS”) after spending almost fifteen years as an attorney in the child welfare system. CFS has served women with unplanned pregnancies in Gainesville and around the state of Florida since 1978, and its mission is based on James 1:27: to look after the fatherless. While I viewed my work as an attorney in the child welfare system as one way to further this mission, I had become increasingly troubled by the limitations of an underfunded and inadequate system charged with protecting children and strengthening families. Now, I am grateful to be a part of an organization that has placed over 500 babies in Christian homes and ministered to many more women with unplanned pregnancies.

My first day on the job presented an opportunity to pray with an expectant mother who would later place her son for adoption after CFS worked with her throughout her pregnancy. By the end of the first month, I experienced three placements and three opportunities to witness the love of a mother choosing an adoptive family for her newborn. When I began this new role, I wasn’t sure what these moments would be like and worried they could be filled with tension. The opposite has been true and it has been a privilege to walk alongside birth parents and adoptive families through this ministry. God’s presence is
clear as birth parents make difficult decisions and adoptive families pour out love to children as well as their birth parents. This sacrificial love is deeply touching and inspiring, and Paul’s words ring true: Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Corinthians 13:7 ESV).

Meeting former CFS families and being surrounded by volunteers with profound commitments to the success of CFS has also been a source of deep encouragement to me these past nine months. Some of these volunteers are dear friends from Creekside. My OAG jumped right in to help park cars for our Gator Game Day Parking fundraiser during football season, and my DNA group graciously provided Christmas gifts to some of our birth mothers who were moved to tears by their generosity. Other donations have allowed CFS to increase counseling and support for women with unplanned pregnancies who wish to parent. Last month, CFS provided temporary lodging for an expectant mother who was a victim of domestic violence and could not safely return home after an OBGYN appointment. Our caseworker then helped her secure housing through another local organization. CFS also recently provided food and gas cards to a mother living in Ocala so that she could visit with her newborn in the NICU in Gainesville.

Thank you for allowing me to share how God is working at CFS and through a job transition in my life. I enjoy hearing about how God is working in your lives too and would love to answer any questions you might have about CFS.

Sincerely,
Mandy Harrell

I asked Lee to share something God has been teaching him through his time in the Word, through a recent sermon series, or in community. These are his reflections.

To get in better shape, I have been trying to swim every morning before work. Recently, I had to switch pools as the pool I have been using was going to be closed for a while. The new pool is distinctive in two different ways; first, it is twice as long (50 meters rather than 25) and it has a cleaner, smoother surface on the bottom. As a result, it is possible to swim quite a distance without seeing any evidence of your progress. You feel like you are putting in a lot of effort, but can’t see any appreciable progress.

When I first started swimming regularly, this was a big problem. I felt like I was putting in
tremendous effort without getting much in the way of results. I would get to the far end of the pool completely exhausted, wondering how others seemed to be making swimming effortlessly. Now, at this new pool, some of that old frustration returns until I get to a point where there is a marker on the bottom of the pool. This allows me to see that, no, I am not stuck in one place. I am actually making better than expected progress.

In the first chapter of James, we are told to “Consider it pure joy… whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance (and) let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4) As our days go by, one after the other, it can feel like we are not making any progress in our spiritual journey. We know we are doing the things we need to do, but see precious little that looks like progress. It takes a certain degree of faith to rest in the fact that God has taken a great interest in our progress and is working diligently to bring us to spiritual maturity. Only occasionally do we witness a marker or milestone that confirms for us that we have made far more progress than we realized. Our job, therefore, is to follow after God; His is to arrange our lives in such a way that spiritual maturity is the inevitable outcome.

As Paul tells us in Philippians 1:6 (MSG) “There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.” Jesus has promised to bring us to spiritual maturity, we simply need to keep paddling in the right direction, even if progress is not apparent.

Join Me in Reading the Bible in a Year!

Happy New Year, Creekside! As we kick off a new year, I want to invite you to join me in one of my favorite yearly routines: reading the entire Bible in a year.

The Bible itself gives us plenty of reasons why this practice is valuable and wise, but I want to highlight two key reasons from the Scriptures that stand out to me.

First, in 2 Timothy 3:16, Paul reminds us that “all Scripture is God-breathed”—that is, inspired by God—and it is “useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” This means every part of the Bible has something to offer us, shaping and maturing us as followers of Christ.

Second, in 2 Corinthians 3:18, Paul tells us that as we read God’s Word, we “with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory.” In other words, when we dive into Scripture, we’re not just reading a book—we’re encountering the living God, and through the Spirit, we begin to see His glory most clearly in the face of Jesus Christ.

Now, let’s be real: The Bible is long. Even if the idea of reading it all excites you, actually following through can feel like a daunting task. That’s why having a plan is so important.
For the past few years, I’ve been using the Navigator’s Bible Reading Plan to guide my journey through the Bible each year. This plan breaks the Bible down into four passages per day for 25 days each month. It’s a manageable pace that helps you stay on track without feeling overwhelmed.

If you’re interested in joining me, I’ve included a link below where you can download a PDF of the plan. We’ll also have paper copies available in the church lobby.

Navigators Bible In a Year Plan
 
Additionally, I’ll be sharing my own weekly reflections as I read through the Bible this year, and I’d love for you to follow along. You’ll find a link for that as well, so we can journey together in reading and reflecting on God’s Word.

Mike's thoughts via Substack

I hope you’ll take up this challenge with me and dedicate just 30 minutes each day to reading the Bible in the year ahead. Let’s grow together as a church family, deepening our understanding of God’s Word and drawing closer to Him.

I’m excited to see what God will do in our hearts through His Word this year!

This is one of three blog posts focused on Devoted to Sending. In this series, we will hear from three different people within the Creekside community reflect on what it means to be sent in the contexts of being a missionary overseas, church planting, and vocation.

In this blog post we will hear from Dr. Lynch and her experience of being sent in vocation.

In my early teens, my great-grandmother, Ruby, would ask about my future career plans, always offering the advice, “You should either be a minister or a doctor, as one cares for the soul and the other for the body.” At the time, I was considering both medicine and ministry and felt encouraged, but her advice was not Biblical. The idea that certain types of work are more worthy and God-honoring than others still sneaks its way into our churches today, often emphasizing what is called “full-time Christian work.” I’ve heard pastors tell their congregations that to truly serve the Lord, you should go into the ministry, become a missionary, or pursue a similar path. In this vision of a life devoted to Christ, the work done by everyone else is only valued for the revenue it generates to support spiritual enterprises.

Such thinking has its roots in the Catholic notion of vocation, specifically referring to those called to the priesthood or certain religious orders, but ironically, it is still prevalent in Protestant circles today. However, in the minds of the Reformers, all believers are called to do their work as unto the Lord, making it sacred when done for His glory. Luther famously observed that while the Lord has no inherent need for the work of the milkmaid or the cobbler, our neighbors do. Our work, then, becomes a tangible way of loving our neighbors.

The word "vocation" comes from the Latin root vocare, meaning “to call.” This implies a “caller,” who we believe to be the Lord God Himself. Our primary calling is always to God through Christ, in repentance and faith. But as redeemed citizens of His kingdom, we are also called to use our gifts to serve others. It is here that we begin to consider our work as a vocation. When we speak about the work we do as our vocation or calling from God, it is important to recognize that we are speaking of all work. Some work we are paid to do, but vocation also includes work that is unpaid, such as caring for our families, volunteering at church, or serving at a homeless shelter. It further includes the work we pay others to do, such as the work performed by students in our community. Many of us are involved in work across these categories, and all must be understood as sacred because our God who calls us has made it so. For a more thorough treatment of this important concept, please see the article by Dr. Richard Horner entitled 'The Work Itself.' https://www.christianstudycenter.org/archive

Since we are called by God into our various vocations, what does it look like to allow a Gospel-centered culture to shape how we think about and live out our vocational callings?

First, we must see the work itself as significant to God, and therefore, its quality must be excellent. Any work done for the Lord must be done according to the highest standards, as noted in the example of Daniel. Those seeking to discredit him could find no grounds for complaint or fault in the execution of his duties. When he emerged from the lion’s den, he addressed the king with genuine respect, telling Darius that he was innocent before God and had never done anything wrong before the king. Even as I write this, I am both challenged and chastened by Daniel’s example. The apostle Paul reiterates that we are to work hard and honorably for our employers, “not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord…It is the Lord Christ you serve.” Phrased simply: shoddy work done in a lazy and half-hearted manner is not Christian work and brings dishonor to the Lord.

Second, in whatever space we are called to work, we must be a “faithful presence,” to use James Hunter’s phrase¹. While doing our work with excellence, we must bring kingdom principles with us. Whether working in a hospital, a university, a business, raising children, or studying, the principles of the gospel should form our character and shape the way we interact with others. To envision this, I’ve found the Beatitudes to be a wonderful place to start. Think about how bringing humility and a willingness to sympathize with those who mourn would affect your work. Add to this a thirst for righteousness, a merciful spirit, purity of motives, and peacemaking, and we can begin to see what a Gospel-centered life might look like in our vocation. My exhortation to each of us is to consider specific ways the Beatitudes would impact our workplaces.

As a physician, teacher, and leader, I have tried to allow three principles to order the inevitable complexities of situations that arise within the health center. First, integrity and courage must always come before profit and advancement. This idea is easy to articulate, but can be costly in real life, as both Jesus and Paul reminded us. At times, we must resist those who push us to work in ways that violate kingdom principles. In such circumstances, we may need to forgo monetary gain or even suffer demotion as we faithfully follow the Lord. But as He has said, “Great is your reward in heaven.”

Second, relationships must be more important than position or power. We need frequent reminders that each person with whom we work is made in God’s image and worthy of our respect and care. This may sound a bit odd, but one way to think about it is to acknowledge that we always “take” everyone we meet. We can take them for granted, take advantage of them, or even try to take them down. But our first instinct as children of the kingdom should be to take care of them. As Paul reminded us, we should look out for the interests of others. I do not mean to be naïve about workplace difficulties. Clearly, there are times when we must confront those whose goal is self-advancement at the expense of others or the mission of the organization. But having acknowledged this, most of the time there will be plenty of room to take care of others, and in so doing, we may change the culture of the workplace.

Third, because we know that our lives are secure in the wisdom and providence of our Lord, we can be free to love and serve others. I have called this the “Paradox of the Self,” by which I mean that the more we focus on ourselves—our position or status, what others have that we don’t, etc.—the more miserable and anxious we become and the more we feel the need to protect and elevate ourselves. But the more we can live with a graceful kind of self-forgetfulness, the more joy and peace will fill and shape our hearts. This freedom will allow us to truly love and care for others, knowing our Lord will take care of us. This concept has been brilliantly articulated by Tim Keller in his sermon The Freedom of Self-forgetfulness, which our small group is currently studying.

There is always more that could be said, but I will close by stating the obvious: this is a lifelong project, best undertaken prayerfully, with a thorough knowledge of the Scriptures, in the company of trusted brothers and sisters, and by asking the Spirit to direct us. I have gotten this wrong so many times and in so many ways, but I am thankful that His grace is sufficient for me. It will no doubt look a bit different for those whose primary calling is in the home or the classroom, but I hope that, as we consider the notion of God’s vocational calling, others will see our good works and glorify our Father in heaven.

_____________________
¹ Hunter, James Davison. To change the world: The irony, tragedy, and possibility of Christianity in the late modern world. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.

This is one of three blog posts focused on Devoted to Sending. In this series, we will hear from three different people within the Creekside community reflect on what it means to be sent in the contexts of being a missionary overseas, church planting, and vocation. 

In this blog post we will hear from Laura and her experience of being sent as a missionary.

Being sent cross-culturally gives me opportunities to serve those very different from me and occasionally to glimpse the beautiful gospel through eyes that are very different from my own.

I am so thankful to be sent by Creekside cross-culturally to a culture remarkably different from my own. A lot of time and effort (from many people) went into my preparation to go; since literally infancy, I have heard biblical stories, truths, and themes. At several points during the years I’ve been in Chad, I’ve been surprised and delighted to rediscover these stories and truths—often through the eyes of those from a different culture, who are hearing them for the first time.

One day, I was telling the story of the Fall to a dear friend, Mary. She listened, nodded along, and seemed to be tracking well. When I finished, she was silent for a moment. Then she looked up at us. "So... the pain we women experience in childbirth is because of sin? It's not just because... God likes to see women suffer?" Every time since then that we've referenced or discussed that story (or almost any other), Mary's comment is still, "Our pain is caused by sin, not because God enjoys it."

I don't know about you, Creekside family, but I had never before considered that curse in Genesis 3 to be liberating and a direct argument against a misogynist or sociopathic character in the Lord!

Another time, I was reading through the book of Matthew with my friend Faye. I read about the crucifixion and about the leaders who mocked Jesus: "Let Him come down from the cross, and we will believe in Him." She cracked up laughing. I smiled, sure I had mispronounced some Arabic word so that it meant "underwear" or something like that. But no, that wasn't what had tickled her. "Laura, this is the Jesus who healed the sick, made the blind see, and even raised the dead, right? That wasn't enough for them to believe. What—now they're saying they'll believe if He just comes down from the cross?"

Actually, it is a humorous and ridicule-worthy statement, and Faye had cut to the heart of defiant cynicism. Every time I read that passage now, I'm reminded that hearts deliberately closed to Jesus do not just need "that one thing" to be convinced; it's only through a supernatural work that anyone can turn.

I am so privileged to be sent cross-culturally, both because of the work that I get to join here and because of the opportunities for me to grow, learn, and see through new eyes. Even Chadian brothers and sisters, who are familiar with the Word, will always see the Lord through a different cultural lens than I will. But I occasionally get to peek through theirs, and I'm reminded that Jesus has promised there will be people from every nation and tongue before the throne, and that different cultures and languages each reflect a slightly different aspect of His infinite glory.

May we all—sent and sending—long for and work toward the day when His glory will be reflected all the more fully; the day that people, families, and groups from an unreached culture turn to Him and magnify Him in a slightly new way. May all the peoples praise Him!

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals that the Lord God had made” (Genesis 3:1). Crafty indeed. Much was lost on that terrible day when Adam and Eve ate from the forbidden tree.

But the darkness did not stay in Eden. It grew and spread—a metastasis that, according to the Book of Genesis, reached its apex in the shadow of a tower in the plains of Babylonia. They had built the tower to “make a name” for themselves (Genesis 11:4). The darkness was complete. Sin reigned. The pursuit of human glory was in full force.

I find it striking that what we read next is God calling a man named Abram and telling him, “Go from your country, your people, and your father’s household to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (Genesis 12:1–3). That’s God’s answer to the spread of sin and darkness—to call a man to leave his homeland. To send him into the unknown.

A few years ago, I moved back to my homeland—the city of Cleveland—to explore the possibility of leading a team to plant a church. And 18 months ago, we had our first service!

Church planting is insider language. I don’t use those words when describing what I’m doing to the people who live in my apartment complex. But I do like the phrase. We are planting seeds with the hope of seeing new life. Jesus often used this language to describe the kingdom of God. One thing you learn about planting is that it takes a lot of patience. And faith. And persistence.

I couldn’t imagine doing this work if I hadn’t been prepared for it. I’ve been blessed to be a part of three churches that had a major impact on my life: Cuyahoga Valley Church, where I grew up; City Church in Cleveland Heights, where I did a church planting residency; and Creekside, where I did a pastoral residency and met so many of you.

These experiences taught me what a church is, how a church functions, what a pastor does, and how to lead. (You only have to look at recent headlines to know how important it is to have Jesus-shaped leaders.)

Going into the unknown is daunting. There is so much uncertainty. We face many challenges. And above all, we know we wrestle “not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms,” as Paul reminds us (Ephesians 6:12). The dark powers are always seeking to drown out the light. I cannot imagine doing this work without being sent and supported.

The kingdom of God is here, and it’s not here. Jesus is on the throne, and the signs of the kingdom are in our midst. But we await its fullness.

I think one of the hindrances to sending people into the unknown is the belief that the fullness of the kingdom is already here. That the renewal of all things has happened. We get comfortable, and then we fear losing that comfort, all the while failing to recognize that there is still work to be done.

I want to take you back to the 400s AD in Britain. A young man whom we now know as St. Patrick had been kidnapped as a teenager by Celtic pirates and taken to Ireland as a slave. Some years later, he miraculously escaped and began to take his childhood Christian faith seriously. And some years after that, he decided he wanted to go back to Ireland to proclaim the gospel there.

People thought he was nuts. The Irish people were “pagan barbarians”—and Patrick knew their potential for harshness all too well. It was a dangerous venture. Church leaders urged him not to go. There was a spirit of fear in the air at that time—monasteries were being built inside high-walled castles. The church had turned inward.

But Patrick took a different approach. He drew a circle in the sand and said: this is our monastery. Yes, we are creating a different sort of community built around Jesus that lives differently. But the barrier of entry is low. We will not flee to the castles but live amongst the people. We will be the salt of the earth and the light of the world.

That’s been our approach here in Downtown Cleveland. We minister in a very transient community: professionals, students, residents—people in town for work, pleasure, or medical care; actors and actresses who perform in the theaters. We even had a couple come to a service who had been boating through Lake Erie for weeks and docked in the harbor Downtown to be in church on Sunday. We get some true wanderers.

When we gather each Sunday, and during the week, we have these folks amongst us. We share the hope of the gospel with them. And we seek to live our lives in step with this hope so that they can see there is another way to live. True life is to be found in Jesus.
When the darkness of Eden had spread to Babel, God sent a man into the unknown. And He is sending us as well. He has called us out of darkness and into His wonderful light so that we might shine His light to a world in great need of it. And planting new churches is one essential way we do that.

But godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content. — 1 Timothy 6:6-8

Finding contentment is one of life’s great struggles. Our hearts consistently strive to find satisfaction and peace. More often than not, we look to the things of the world to bring us fulfillment. We tend to think contentment will be found if we can just accumulate possessions, achieve a certain status, or experience some kind of pleasure. But when we finally reach those things we so desperately wanted to obtain, we are left wanting more. So we do it again—we search for the next thing that might bring satisfaction.

The Avett Brothers, in their song "Ill With Want," describe this cycle we so often find ourselves in with these lyrics:

I am sick with wanting
And it's evil how it's got me
And every day is worse than the one before
The more I have the more I think
I'm almost where I need to be
If only I could get a little more

If you’re anything like me, those last three lines hit a bit harder than we’d like to admit. So what do we do? How do we break free from the trap of trying to “get a little more?” I think the first step is recognizing that our possessions, achievements, and experiences are temporary. As Paul tells Timothy in the verses above, “We brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world.” A recognition of the temporal nature of these things should lead us to find contentment elsewhere. Our lack of satisfaction is not because we don’t have enough, but because we’re directing our desires to things that aren’t meant to satisfy. If godliness with contentment is truly of great gain to us, where should we look to find this contentment? Let’s look at what Paul writes next.

“But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content.” Paul here points out that if we have food and clothing, we should be content with those things. Still, I might find myself thinking, “I have food. I have clothes. Why am I not content?” I think the answer lies not just in recognizing that we have food and clothing, but in looking to the one who provides those things for us. Jesus, in His Sermon on the Mount, says this: “Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.” (Matthew 6:31-32) Jesus here is telling His hearers—and I think us—that our food and clothing are evidence that we are cared for by our Creator, our Heavenly Father. Therefore, when we recognize that we have food and clothing, we can also recognize that we are loved by God. And that’s where we find our contentment. When we turn our eyes to the one who provides us with food, clothing, and every good gift (James 1:17), we will, in turn, find satisfaction for our souls.

When we find contentment in turning our eyes to God, where then should that lead us? What is the proper response to God’s provision for us? I’d like to suggest a devotion to gratitude and simplicity. When we look to the gifts God has given us—from food and clothing to our families and friends, to our possessions and experiences—and most importantly, our salvation through Christ, we can’t help but express gratitude to Him, both for who He is and for what He has done for us. I think when we adopt a heart posture of gratitude, by the Spirit’s help, our desire for more will lessen.

But along with gratitude, we should devote ourselves to simplicity. Often, our possessions, the advertisements all around us, and the desire for more can distract us from finding contentment in our Lord. So, what does living simply look like? I think it can take many shapes and forms, but, as a whole, it involves minimizing distractions and possessions so that, in turn, we can better worship our God and love our neighbors. This might include getting rid of social media, selling or giving away your possessions, and minimizing the noise around you. In the pursuit of simplicity, I’d encourage you to do so purposefully—not just to mark something off your list or to feel a bit more holy. Do it with gratefulness in your heart to the Father, knowing that He alone can satisfy and bring contentment to your soul.
Later on in that same Avett Brothers song, they sing:

Temporary is my time
Ain't nothin' on this world that's mine
Except the will I found to carry on
Free is not your right to choose
It's answering what's asked of you
To give the love you find until it's gone

Friends, our time here on Earth is temporal. Rather than live for ourselves, trying to accumulate more possessions, achievements, and experiences, let’s look to Jesus and His coming kingdom. In Him, we will find contentment for our souls, and we will learn to live lives filled with gratitude and marked by simplicity. In doing so, I think we will learn to live more generously and give the love that’s been given to us. 

To speak of generosity in the 21st century West is no controversial topic. Sure, people prefer not to be told what to do with their money, but we generally agree that those who have excess ought to share some of it with those who don’t have enough. That’s no radical idea.

But what was happening in the first local church in Jerusalem went far beyond anything the modern Westerner could ever imagine. This little community was filled with people selling their possessions to meet each other’s needs. What’s more, this wasn’t done under compulsion! No evidence exists that church leadership forced this kind of generosity. No membership covenant compelled the churchgoers to give beyond their means. So how did they come about such a defining practice?

For help in understanding, I turned to a fairly famous story in Luke’s gospel. On His way to Jerusalem for the last time, Jesus entered the town of Jericho. There He encountered an interesting sight: a man sitting up in a tree in order to see Him. 

This man was Zacchaeus. Luke tells us, “He was a chief tax collector and was rich.” Tax collectors had a pretty sweet gig. Under protection from Rome, they would gather taxes from the people to meet the bid they had offered. Anything they gathered in addition and kept for themselves, well that was no concern of Rome’s. So Zacchaeus, as a tax collector, was a very rich man. 

But Jesus saw something more than a chief tax collector sitting in that tree. The desire to see Jesus, even if it meant having to climb a tree to do so, was a fledgling faith in Zacchaeus. Jesus saw it and loved it, so He invited Himself over to Zachhaeus’ house for dinner. Zacchaeus’ reply saw his fledgling faith come into full bloom. “‘Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor. And if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham’”  (Luke 19:8-9).

So what changed about Zacchaeus that led to Jesus’ proclamation of salvation over his household? Certainly it cannot be that Zacchaeus earned salvation by restoring those whom he defrauded, still less by his generosity to the poor. Jesus tells us why salvation came to the house of Zacchaeus: “since (for/because) he also is a son of Abraham” 

Jesus cannot be referring to Zacchaeus’ heredity. If his salvation were based on his biological relationship to Abraham, then why did salvation come “today,” the day he gave to the poor and restored those whom he defrauded? Something had changed about Zacchaeus. “Today,” he was awakened to a faith like Abraham’s. “And [Abraham] believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness” (Gen. 15:6). “Know then that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham” (Gal 3:7). 

By revealing Himself to Zacchaeus as the Seeker and Savior of the lost (Luke 19:10), Jesus brought faith to Zacchaeus, making Zacchaeus a true son of Abraham. Zaccheaus’ blind eyes were opened to see the One standing before Him, the One he climbed a tree in order to see. That faith compelled Zacchaeus, joyfully and of his own accord, to right what he had wronged and to give generously to the poor.

What is the essence of that faith? Why would trust that Jesus is the Son of God and Savior of the lost compel the rich to give generously to the poor? Again, earning or repayment cannot be at play; salvation is “not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph. 2:9). 

The essence of saving faith is a new affection, a new ultimate love for God above all else. The essence of saving faith agrees with Paul when he says, “Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ” (Phil. 3:8).

We cannot only agree with the truth claims Scripture makes about God. “Even the demons believe -- and shudder!” (Jas. 2:19). Faith is not something that originates in the mind, but in the heart. It is a new affection for something other than ourselves. And that affection reorders all the other affections of our hearts.

I’ve heard it illustrated this way: imagine I gave you a jar, access to the most advanced suction technology known to humanity, and instructions to drive all the air out of the jar. How would you do so? If you could create a perfect seal, and if you could constantly run the suction device, you could remove most of the air from the jar. But once the seal is broken, or once the device runs out of power, air will immediately rush back in. As Aristotle told us, “Nature abhors a vacuum.”

But a much simpler, longer lasting, more effective way exists. Simply fill the jar with water. The dense, heavier substance effortlessly drives out the less dense, less heavy air. Grasping this idea, the Scottish pastor, Thomas Chalmers, put it this way: 


We are born into this world filled to the brim with affection for ourselves. Theologians call this “original sin.” No one has to teach a toddler to throw a tantrum when hungry, or tired, or wronged. We are born believing the lie that the best life exists when we belong to ourselves and live for our own pleasure, comfort, and control. We can no more permanently expel these desires than we can suck the air out of a jar; God’s design for us means our hearts abhor a vacuum. They must desire.

What changed about Zacchaeus the day salvation came upon his house was that he found a new, stronger, more substantial affection than the one that caused him to defraud his neighbors and withhold from the poor. Where once he loved himself and the lifestyle he could enjoy as a tax collector, now he had come to love Jesus more. His trust that Jesus is the Seeker and Savior of the lost went hand in hand with his affection for Jesus as such. Zacchaeus once was lost, but now was found.

This brings a whole new degree of understanding to Paul’s admonition in 2 Corinthians 9: “Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver” (9:7). The former man, in love with himself, sees this passage as license to avoid generosity when he doesn’t feel like it. The new man, with his new affection, sees this as a command to find the joy of generosity when our affection for material possessions are driven out by our greater affection for Christ. 

When we give generously and sacrificially for the glory of Christ, we commune with Him, relate to Him, and experience Him in unique ways. After all, it was His ultimate act of generosity by which we have been saved (2 Cor. 8:9). And since our hearts have received a new ultimate affection, we take every chance we can to fellowship with the One who sought and saved us.

¹ Chalmers, Thomas. The Expulsive Power of a New Affections. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2020: 47-49.

I was recently organizing old photos on an external hard drive. In the process, I came across some screen shots of particularly meaningful text messages Courtney and I exchanged while we were dating and married. It’s the millennial equivalent of saving old love letters exchanged during a distanced courtship. 

Text messages became the way we could still communicate while we were apart. And because I had fallen deeply in love, I availed myself of that medium often. I was constantly texting her. I wanted to be in an unbroken stream of communication with her because of the delight I found (and continue to find) in her.

The same is true, to a much greater and more profound degree, in the gift of prayer. While we are physically separated from God, we are given a medium to continue communicating with Him. It’s a stream we return to time and again because we so delight in His love for us. And according to Acts 2, it is the fourth characteristic of a community gathered around its common faith in Christ.

I could go so many different directions in a post about prayer precisely because prayer is so glorious, so multi-faceted, and so fundamental to the Christian life. When centuries of Christians were unable to read the Bible, whether due to illiteracy or the lack of a translation in their native tongue, it was prayer that fueled their delight in and communion with God.

But perhaps the best place to start is by exploring the general pattern of prayer in the New Testament: that prayer is offered to Father (Matt. 6:8-9, 7:11), in the name of the Son (John 15:16, 16:23), and by the power of the Spirit (Rom. 8:26-27).

John Owen, the prolific Puritan author, published Communion with God in 1657 to show believers the Triune dynamic of prayer. As we pray to the Father, in the name of the Son, and by the power of the Spirit, we enjoy communion with all Three in unique and soul-satisfying ways.

In our recent journey through the Sermon on the Mount, we witnessed Jesus elevate a unique dimension of our relationship with God when He repeated referred to Him as “you Father” (Matt. 5:45, 48; 6:1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 14, 15, 26, 32; 7:11, 21). Not just the Father, designating the First Person of the Trinity from the other Two, but your Father, alluding to the essence of the covenant relationship Jesus was about to purchase. We have been, in Paul’s words, “predestined for adoption to [the Father] as children through Christ Jesus” (Eph. 1:5).

We saw in another recent sermon the specific glory the Father gave to the Son: that the Son would be the One through whom the world was reconciled to the Father (John 17:20-26; 2 Cor. 5:17-21). In doing so, the Son revealed the true heart of the Father, which is that He would be the all-satisfying Object of our affections and worship. Such was the degree of His desire that He “did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all” (Rom. 8:32) in order to accomplish it.

To be a Christian means the Father’s love, revealed in Christ’s death for us, has become our soul’s greatest treasure. In the dry wasteland of this world, the Well that will never leave us thirsty presents itself time and again in our access to Him and in His receiving us with the delight of a Father in His child.

The parents among us will agree that the delight we have in our children prexists their ability to achieve it. We love them completely as they grow in their mother’s womb. We proclaim over them the words the Father spoke at Jesus’ baptism - “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matt. 3:17) - before they can even hold up their own head. And if we who are evil know how to love our children thus, how much more our perfect Father who is in heaven.

Prayer is a medium so much deeper and richer than a genie in a bottle or call to a first responder. It’s the place we go to experience again and again - as much as our hearts can stand! - how good it is to be loved by our Father who is in heaven. This gift, like all gifts, was purchased and given by Another, which moves us to the second dynamic of communion with God: that we pray in the name of the Son.

The author of Hebrews promises that we will “receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” when we approach the Father in prayer (Heb. 4:16). This is not automatic, and we sense it. That’s partially due to our own experience with our earthly Fathers, the best of whom can be unpredictable in their reaction to our needs. They are human as we are human. More than that, we sense the inadequacy in ourselves to ever approach so holy a thrown.

So where is the author’s confidence that we will always find mercy and grace from the Father when we approach Him? It is that this response has been guaranteed for us, purchased and delivered as a gift by our “Great High Priest who has passed through the heavens” (Heb. 4:14).

A once-for-all payment has been made, the debt is paid, wrath is satisfied. All other possible responses we might receive from the Father have been fully and eternally poured out on the Son in our place. All that remains is mercy and grace. In this way, the Son has purchased the gift of our access to the Father and the Father’s delight in us.

I treasure my favorite gifts not only because the thing itself brings joy, but because at each fresh experience of the joy I have in the gift, I am reconnected to the glove of the one who gave it. In enjoying a certain pen holder, Bible, meat smoker, or homemade card, I am reminded that someone sees me, attends to me, cares for me, delights in me. The human soul was designed to be nourished in this way, and ultimately in the attentive and affectionate love of our Creator.

Receiving mercy and grace from my Creator, rather than the wrath my sins deserve, was a gift like any other I’ve received, in the sense that it was purchased with my joy in mind and delivered to me undeserving and unwarranted, completely motivated by love. So every time I enjoy communion with the Father through prayer, I am reconnected to the love He has shown in His son.

Put another way, every time we conclude a prayer with the words “in Jesus’ name,” we connect our delight in the gift to the love of its Giver. We experience in real time the love of the Son for His bride. Which is to say, we commune with the Son when we enjoy the love of the Father, because the love of the Father is for His Son. The gift is our adoption and all its attendant delights, and the Son purchased that gift with His life.

The greatest love Jesus could show us is to pay the highest possible price to restore us to our highest possible joy. Our delight in that love is empowered by the Spirit who dwells in us and who completes our delight in communion with God.

When I think of gifts, my mind goes to the Christmas mornings I’ve spent assembling toys that my sons had just finished unwrapping. While they were tearing apart fresh wrapping paper, I was already hard at work with a screw driver, putting pieces of plastic together in a way that made the toy itself come to life. But often, the very last step in the process was to give the toys power by adding the batteries.

Consider the utter dependence of my sons in the scene I just described. Someone else purchased their gift and assembled the gift, and batteries powered the gift. After all that, they simply enjoyed the gift, along with the tangible link it provided to the love of the giver.

In the same way, we are completely dependent on the Spirit to enjoy even one ounce of our adoption by the Father which was purchased by the Son. What is begun by the Spirit cannot be completed by the flesh (Gal. 3:3). See therefore, in the provision of the Spirit, the depth of the Father’s love and the extent of the Son’s gift. Without the Spirit, our salvation is an assembled toy with no batteries. The angst would be all the more pronounced in seeing the joy we might experience but cannot because the essential ingredient is missing.

The Son is no such incompetent Giver. He gives the gift all the way by providing the Spirit. It is the Spirit empowers us to pray when we don’t know how (Rom. 8:26). It is the Spirit who keeps the beauty and glory of Christ front and center in our minds (John 16:14). It is the Spirit who convicts us of sin that would inhibit our prayers and enables us to put to death our sinful desires (Rom. 8:13)

We are utterly dependent on the Spirit for all these things. So when they happen, when we are able to cry out to the Father in the name of the Son and find mercy and grace to help in time of need, this happens because the Spirit is lovingly at work in us. It can happen no other way.  

As we contemplate our mutual commitment to treasure Jesus Christ together for the joy of all people, I hope this brief reflection shows that prayer is absolutely indispensable to that end. Just as the love of the Father in Christ is most tangibly experienced in our love for one another, the joy of prayer is most clearly felt when we pray together.

Humbly, as I survey the seven habits of a gospel-centered church, I am convinced that this habit is the one where we stand to grow the most. I don’t say this because we’ve graduated the other six. I say this because I observe my own life. I now how quickly I reach for strategy to achieve and outcome, how much I rely on my to-do list to order my day, how many hours pass without a thought to the treasure of joy unlocked for me by the blood of Christ, how rarely I return to God in thanksgiving when our desired outcomes actually occur. 

I don’t refer to any big ministry program or new strategy. That would be oxymoronic to prayer itself. I refer to a renewed commitment to steep all that we do in prayer. Which is to say, experience the real-time joy of the Father’s presence, purchased by the Son, and empowered by the Spirit, in all that we do.

Because the communion we enjoy now in prayer is, as I like to say, and appetizer that preps our stomachs to receive a feast. Just as Courtney and I took full advantage of our ability to text each other when we were apart, our text conversations were no substitute for being together in the same place - for looking into each others eyes, for enjoying the smile and sharing the tears.

Just as prayer is a gift the value of which we will never be able to express, it’s just an appetizer. It’s just a bridge that holds us for the day our faith that God hears us when we pray will become sight. When we will see our God’s face (Rev. 22:4) and feel His hand gently and permanently wipe every tear from our eyes (Rev. 21:4). 

In the meantime, prayer is the closest we can get. So let’s feast on the joy of the Father, in the name of the Son, and by the power of the Spirit, and let's do it together. 

So those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls. And they devoted themselves to…the breaking of bread… (Acts 2:41-42)

We continue our series exploring the habits of a community centered around the gospel. So far, we’ve seen that this community is devoted to the Word and to fellowship. When the gospel is properly understood, and when the Savior is properly treasured, these habits emerge as a result. Today, we turn to the third such practice.

It’s clear that, right off the bat, the gathering of these early Christians was centered around the Table. Luke tells us that “day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts” (Acts 2:46). While this could refer simply to enjoying fellowship over a meal, I think it much more likely that Luke is referring to the observance of the Lord’s Supper, or Communion. 

This first Christian community wouldn’t observe the Lord’s Supper in the temple amidst a Jewish worship service. That would need to be done separately, in their homes. Further, the phrase “breaking of bread” drips with sacramental meaning. This phrase is used in the feeding of the 5,000 and 4,000, in the Last Supper, and in teaching around taking the Last Supper in a worthy manner. 

These early gatherings were centered on breaking break, in addition to the other habits listed in Acts 2. This was one of the fundamental reason we began taking communion weekly at Creekside about three years ago. The Table is absolutely crucial to understanding who Jesus is, who we are as a result, and what lies ahead for those who respond to the gospel in repentance and faith.

First, we gather around the Table to remember that Jesus alone is the Bread of Life. The only miracle that appears in all four Gospels is the feeding of the 5,000. In each of those accounts, the writers emphasize that this massive crowd feasted on five loaves and two fish until they were “satisfied” (Matt. 14:20; Mark 6:42; Luke 9:17; John 6:12).

Though all four Gospels capture this moment in Jesus’ ministry, only John’s account gives us Jesus’ interpretation of that miracle. (After all, the purpose of miracles was always to validate Jesus’ message; Matt. 9:6.) The next day, this massive crowd finds Jesus on the other side of the lake. Jesus insightfully reveals their motives: they followed Him to get another free meal (6:26). 

In other words, Jesus has them right where He wants them. Here’s the point: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life” (6:27). And what is the food that endures to eternal life? “I am the bread of life,” Jesus says. “Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst” (6:35). That momentary experience of a full belly is the eternal experience for our souls if we believe in Jesus and follow after Him.

Maybe this is why the only ongoing practice Jesus left for His followers was to gather around a meal. The life that Jesus promises comes through the giving of His body, something we remember by breaking and eating bread. “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor. 11:26). 

In other words, we gather at the Table each week to proclaim the Lord’s death, the sacrifice by which our souls can be forever satisfied in Him. Only in Jesus will our souls never hunger or thirst, because He is the Bread of Life.

When we come to the Table together, we are reminded not only who Jesus is, but who we are, corporately, as a result. Paul spells it out clearly in 1 Corinthians: 

The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread (1 Cor. 10:16-17).

Coming to the same Table every week, on the same footing before God, receiving the same grace through Jesus’ death and resurrection, our unity is reinforced. In fact, Paul goes on to rebuke the Corinthian church sternly for missing this key point. The rich, whose schedules are much more free, gather early and consume the entire meal, while the poor come after work and find nothing left. 

Paul tells them that eating and drinking this way is “an unworthy manner” that will leave them “guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord” (11:27). Therefore, we are to examine ourselves before we approach the Table. 

While this has sweeping implications for confessing any unrepentant sin, Paul has the unity of the church most directly in mind. Perhaps he’s simply applying the teaching of Jesus: “So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift” (Matt. 5:23-24).

This command to self-examination is one of the reasons we have a confession and assurance time during each of our services. During that time, we invite the Spirit to search us (Ps. 139:23-24) and reveal any unrepentant sin that might cause us to approach the Table in an unworthy manner. 

You’ve heard us say it, but watching the congregation come to the Table each week is a high point for us pastors. We know so many of your stories, your triumphs and your pains. We see babies, people who have experienced loss, people struggling amidst trials. A great affection grows in us as we watch the congregation come. 

So gathering at the Table each week reminds us that Jesus alone can satisfy our souls, and that as a result we are all one body.

Finally, we gather at the Table to anticipate the next time Jesus will eat this meal with His followers. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus introduces the Last Supper with His disciples by saying, “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God” (Luke 22:15-16). 

Think of that. With the full knowledge of what He’s hours away from enduring, Jesus tells His disciples that He’s eager to eat this meal with them. He’s been excitedly anticipating this moment. Why? Because this meal is the first course of a feast that will carry one when Jesus returns. And because of what Jesus is about to endure, His disciples from all time and space will be invited to the rest of that feast.

John, one of the disciples who at this meal with Jesus, was given a vision of the rest of the feast some years later. 

“Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out, ‘Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure’—  for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. And the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.’” (Revelation 19:6-9).

This is the moment our hearts long for, when our souls and our bodies will be satisfied forever in the presence of our Savior. We come to the Table every week to stir a longing for this day. The small bit of bread and juice do nothing to satisfy our physical hunger. Like an appetizer before a feast, they serve more to awaken our hunger in expectation that satisfaction is coming.

For these reasons, we too are devoted to the breaking of bread. We come each week to remember that Jesus alone is the bread of life, that because of His sacrifice we are made one, and that we will one day feast with Him in His presence. What greater ballast in a world of lesser goods, of trinkets and moments that promise a satisfaction they can never deliver. 

As we come to the table, may we “have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that (we) may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Eph. 3:18-19).

At the root of the word “fellowship” is the idea of sharing. There’s a sacrifice, a generosity, a gifting of fellowship with one another. New Testament authors will use this word, in its verbal form, to describe giving a gift of benevolence to those in need (2 Cor. 9:13; Heb. 13:16) or sharing the gospel itself (Philem. 6).

This sharing can be material, as in sharing money, resources, or goods. It can also be the sharing of time, or an experience, of a sin that needs to be confessed, or something for which we are grateful. Basically, fellowship is sharing life together.

The idea is that I freely share what is mine so that I can experience it together with another. The compound interest of those shared experiences is a deepening trust and delight in the person with whom I share. So the sharing becomes the means of participating in and enjoying the relationship. Fellowship isn’t the making of a new relationship, but the savoring of an existing relationship.

The greatest, most magnificent, most unbelievably true fellowship is fellowship with God, a gift of grace made available in Christ and by the Spirit. Scripture has much to say about this fellowship, this sharing of life with God.

Christians are given fellowship with God the Father: “…and indeed our fellowship is with the Father…” (1 John 1:3). Christians enjoy fellowship with God the Son: “God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord” (1 Cor. 1:9). Christians delight in fellowship with God the Spirit: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all” (2 Cor. 13:14).

The gift of this relationship, ours to actively enjoy, is the center of the gospel. The goal of my ministry, for however many years God allows it to persist, is to call myself, my family, and this congregation actively to treasure the gift of fellowship with God above all else. This is the only thing that can satisfy our souls. It’s what we were designed for, and what we will remain restless without.

We cry out with the psalmist: “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. For behold, those who are far from you shall perish; you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you. But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all your works” (Ps. 73:25-28).

But the question remains, how can we enjoy tangibly what is intangible? How can we see what is yet invisible? How can we savor now what we will only know fully upon Christ’s return? The Apostle John draws a straight line for us between the glorious and invisible reality of our fellowship with God and a visible, tangible experience available to all of us.

In the beginning of his first letter, John told his readers that he proclaims the good news of all that he witnessed “so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3).

Do you see the connection? The fellowship that we have together is a collective fellowship with God. And when a blind soul comes to behold the glory of Christ, they too share in that fellowship with us. After all, we were first reconciled to one another and then reconciled, one new humanity, to God in Christ (Eph. 2:14-16).

In other words, the most tangible experience of the invisible fellowship we have with God is fellowship within the local church. It’s no wonder, then, that the first church in Acts 2 made fellowship a habit. They devoted themselves to acquiring a set of shared experiences whose agendas were simply to be together and to enjoy it. With all our quirks and imperfections, all our sin and need, we enjoy what is a gift from God, a small taste of the coming visible fellowship we will enjoy with God when Christ returns.

We have many spaces for fellowship at Creekside. The main space is our Sunday service. We gather in a shared space, sing together, approach a common Table, because Sunday is not just about content. Sunay is about fellowship.

Two years ago, when we determined it was safe to do so, we ended our livestream, because consuming some music and a sermon in isolation was never God’s design for a local church. We must be devoted to fellowship. I say this without an ounce of critique for other churches who continue to livestream their services. I’m simply anchoring our choice in this habit that the Acts 2 church modeled for us.

Once a month, we provide a pizza lunch after the Sunday service. The goal is to create a space for us to enjoy each other. We’re devoted to it. And there’s something about eating a meal together that slows down our interactions, puts us on the same plane, and invites a deeper connection. Maybe you haven’t considered staying for a pizza lunch lately? Join us. The fellowship we enjoy there is a small taste of what we have in Christ.

We provide One Another Groups, small groups of more intimate fellowship during the week. We schedule those meetings, rather than leaving them to spontaneous occurrence, because fellowship is a devotion for us. If you’re not in an OAG, let me encourage you to reach out and explore a group. Be devoted to fellowship with us.

We have other fellowship events throughout the year: Easter Breakfast, Summer Pool Party, Fall Dinner. Each of these are completely free of any agenda other than to enjoy each other. Why? Because the gospel compels us to devote ourselves to fellowship. It’s all over our calendar, our budget, our website, our philosophy.

These planned spaces are particularly important in this cultural moment. Whether explicitly or implicitly, we are told only that which is spontaneous is authentic, and everything else is fake. If you have to plan to call you mom on Mothers’ Day, do you authentically love her? If you did, would you have to make a plan to reach out?

In my time as a pastor, I’ve observed many who feel disconnected within the local church. Often their disconnection emerges from this misunderstanding of authenticity. They can’t manufacture relationships in the church; these relationships should just “happen.”

The result, whether motivated by fear or lack of proper priority, is that such a person never pursues and initiates that which they ought to enjoy in the church. The lack of connection is then internalized (I’m not likable; there’s something wrong with me) or blamed (this church is unfriendly).

I don’t write this to blame any person for their felt sense of disconnection within their church. Rather, I want to encourage introspection, the careful consideration first of whether or not the fault exclusively lies with the community. And then to encourage initiative to pursue what is yours to enjoy in Christ.

But make no mistake, fellowship within the church isn’t always happy. And I don’t have to tell it to most of you. 

There are significant differences between our fellowship with God and our fellowship with each other. God is constant, we change. God is holy, we sin. God is wise, we are foolish. God will never leave us or forsake us, people move or leave churches for other reasons. To devote ourselves to fellowship in a local church is to open ourselves up to relational pain. 

And yet that pain we feel, when we feel it, is a deep mercy from God. It reminds us that we were designed for a world of permanence, where the relationships we enjoy never end. And that world is coming with Christ. So in a way, the pain of relational loss in this life is designed to cultivate a longing for Christ’s return. 

Therefore, if we protect ourselves from that pain by drawing back from fellowship, we miss out on the grace of God. If we press in, open our lives, and sacrifice our comfort for the mingled joy and pain of human relationship, we long all the more for the ultimate Fellowship that can satisfy us. We know it now in part, but then we will know it fully, even as we are fully known.

We have seen so far that a community based on the gospel will have certain characteristic devotions, or practices, that flow naturally from the gospel itself. As I survey Acts 2:42-47, I see at least seven such practices. And while there is little evidence that they are placed in any intentional order, I cannot ignore which one comes first.

This community, centered on repentance and faith, is first and foremost devoted to, or committed to, “the apostles’ teaching” (2:42). In other words, a person’s conversion to Jesus is more of a starter’s pistol than a finish line. Now that the Spirit has brought repentance, the work of living according to that repentance begins with teaching. And the local church devoted itself not to any old teaching, but specifically to that of the apostles.

What made the apostles’ teaching unique was its authority. They were eyewitness to the life, teaching, miracles, death, and resurrection of Jesus. They received His Spirit in the upper room. They were chosen by Jesus to bear the initial weight of carrying on the good news that the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

In the generations that followed, the teaching of the apostles was collected into what we call the New Testament. But it’s important to know that this teaching was seen as God-inspired and authoritative well before the church finished the project of determining which texts would be included in the Bible.

In other words, the church didn’t make the writings of the New Testament authoritative, nor did they selectively deny the authority of other worthy texts. Rather, the church recognized those texts which already carried apostolic authority and labeled them as such.

For instance, Peter recognizes Paul’s writing on the same level as the Old Testament (2 Pet. 3:15-16), and Paul regards Luke’s gospel as equal to the Torah (1 Tim. 5:17-18)! Since the very beginning, church leaders regarded the teaching of the apostles as Scripture, which means we can restate the first devotion of the local church this way: …”and they devoted themselves to teaching Scripture.”

Paul counseled his young protegé Timothy to preach the Word as the cornerstone of his pastoral ministry (2 Tim. 4:1-5). Why? The preceding sentence tells us: “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable…” (3:16). God tells us that His Word will satisfy us the way no earthly meal can (Isa. 55:2). This is so because all Scripture points to Christ (Luke 24:27), and Christ is the bread of life that will never leave us hungry (John 6:25).

And so the first devotion of the local church is to Scripture. One of the defining characteristics of our community ought to be an obvious regard for and submission to God’s Word. The more a newcomer comes to belong in our community, the more clear this should become to them: not just that we hold up God’s Word as true - which we do, without apology! - but that we savor it as good and cherish it as beautiful.

Listen to some of the words found in Psalm 119, in which David extols the beauty of God’s law:

24 Your testimonies are my delight.  
47 I find my delight in your commandments, which I love.
92 If your law had not been my delight, I would have perished in my affliction.
97 Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all the day.
127 Therefore I love your commandments above gold, above fine gold.
159 Consider how I love your precepts!  Give me life according to your steadfast love.
174 I long for your salvation, O LORD, and your law is my delight.

God’s Word is our delight because His Word leads us to Christ and Christ is our salvation. This is the first devotion that characterizes a community gathered around repentance and faith.

But it is not the only devotion, and this point is important. There are those who believe the only devotion needed is to God’s Word, and all else will follow. In these places, much truth is said about God’s Word, and yet the community does not feel like the gospel. There is no warmth or welcome to the newcomer. There is not joyful sacrifice to bear one another’s burdens or open their homes. Such a disconnect is fatal to the witness of that church, however true their words may be.

Consider with me the confusion when a preacher correctly proclaims the compassion of Jesus and yet the church is as cold and unfeeling as any other group. Consider a truthful message of adoption proclaimed in a community walled off to outsiders. Consider a right exposition of forgiveness and grace lifted up among those who gossip, slander, and hold grudges.

Does such a community reinforce or negate the good news? This is the danger to which we leave ourselves vulnerable if God’s Word is our only commitment. That is, if our only concern is saying right things about God from His Word, never bringing it to bear on our community, with what joy should we expect the gospel to be received?

A devotion to God’s Word must go beyond a collection of right statements about it. A devotion to God’s Word should determine the type of community someone experiences when they visit a local church.

That’s that story of this first church described in Acts 2. Yes, their first characteristic was a devotion to God’s Word. However, six more devotions follow. And it is to the next, a devotion to fellowship, that we turn next time.

So those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls. And they devoted themselves… (Acts 2:41-42)

Habits are definitely in vogue here in the 21st century Western world. Peruse the self-help shelf at the library or scan through videos on YouTube, and you’ll find a plethora of content devoted to forming habits. They’ll change your life!

And while there is great wisdom in the confidence being placed in habits, here’s what’s missing: a goal. A common definition of a good person and a good life toward which our habits ought to build. This dooms the consumer of said content to a life of exploring habits with no greater metric than how it makes them feel about themselves.

But before we throw the baby out with the bathwater, let’s take a closer look at the culture of the first local church as it is described in Acts 2:42-47. So far, we’ve witnessed the proclamation of the Gospel by Peter. Many in the crowd respond to the gospel in repentance and faith, publicly proclaiming their repentance through baptism. This experience created a new community centered on the gospel and its proper response.

And according to Luke (the author of Acts), that community was marked by “devotion.”

In the Christian world, the word “devotion” usually refers to time spent privately reading the Bible and praying. If someone asks, “How is your devotional life?”, that’s what they mean. And as we continue exploring the gospel culture described in Acts 2:42-47, we can understand why. But there is one key difference: when Acts 2 uses the word “devotion,” the author was referring to something done communally, not privately.

This of course doesn’t mean we jettison any private practice associated with our faith; doing so would ignore a major portion of the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 6:1-18), which our church happens to be exploring right now in our sermon series. This does mean, however, that we may need to expand our expectations concerning how “devotions” ought to show themselves in the Christian life. So let’s take a closer look at that word, since it is key to understanding the gospel culture that characterized the Acts 2 church.

When someone is “devoted” to another person, this word describes a continuous and close association usually marked by service. But when a person is “devoted” to a behavior or a practice, they are continuing “to do something with intense effort, with the possible implication of despite difficulty.” They are enduring, persisting, staying with, persevering in that behavior, even when the desired outcomes or results aren’t there.

Enter today’s trendy term: habit. This word can be used synonymously with the “devotion” described in Acts 2. When someone is “devoted” to a behavior, that behavior becomes a habit. Habits are small investments that yield great change if they are made consistently over a long period of time. And the reason is made clear in this quote from James Clear in his great book Atomic Habits:

"Habits are the compound interest of self-improvement. The same way that money multiplies through compound interest, the effects of our habits multiply as you repeat them. They seem to make little difference on any given day and yet the impact they deliver over the months and years can be enormous. It is only when looking back two, five, or perhaps ten years later that the value of good habits and the cost of bad ones becomes strikingly apparent" (p. 16, my emphasis).

Jim Collins makes a similar observation about companies that gain momentum and create lasting change toward greatness. It’s not the result of a silver-bullet idea that catapults a company into greatness. Instead, companies achieve lasting greatness as a result of an enduring devotion to the practices that make it unique (p. 14). Like a flywheel gains momentum the more it is turned, lasting change is the result of small actions made consistently over a long period of time, regardless whether the desired outcomes are always there.

In other words, enjoying gospel culture is the compound interest of habits that characterize a church. This was true of that first gospel community in Acts 2. They were devoted. And that tells me at least three effects that gospel proclamation ought to have in our church.

First, gospel proclamation should make us intentional. After responding to the gospel in repentance and faith, this community formed around seven key habits, or devotions, that were the pathway of transformation. They chose what kinds of things they would do and what they would not based on the doctrine of the gospel.

Second, gospel proclamation should breed resilience. Being devoted to something or someone suggests that forces push against that devotion. Our own sinful desires, the lies of our enemy, and the lure of this world all stand against a culture of devotion to gospel practices. Yet the gospel itself is a message of a God who is ruthlessly devoted to His people despite their wavering affections. And His Spirit is in and among us to help us continue in the habits that defined the first local church community.  

Third, gospel proclamation should make us patient. In his helpful book The Patient Ferment of the Early Church, historian Alan Kreider points out that patience was of supreme importance to the early church, not just as a general disposition of the believer, but specifically in continuing their habits in the face of resistance (pp. 68-69). They did not abandon those habits, some of which emerge directly from Acts 2, when the headwinds of persecution and the battering waves of their own sin persisted. And this drew their neighbors toward the gospel.

Ultimately, the Acts 2 church was not only characterized by devotion to these habits, but devotion to each other. Each of these practices were communal in nature, meaning their unity, which was purchased for them by Christ (Eph. 2:14-16), was enjoyed and reinforced by their collective commitment to doing these habits together.  

So with that in mind, we will begin our exploration of these seven habits, or devotions, that defined a community of people who gathered around the gospel. We’ll look at how each one clearly emerges from gospel doctrine, the headwinds that might push us away from these practices, and how they ought to look in our church community.

Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. (Romans 15:7)

There may not be another verse in the New Testament that more clearly links gospel proclamation to local church culture than Romans 15:7. And local church culture is on my mind this year. Last month, I wrote about the three R’s of the gospel in Acts 2: the report, the response, and the result.

And while responding to the gospel in repentance and faith certainly yields individual results, it is the corporate personality of a local church that Luke describes at the end of Acts 2. This new community was marked by six devotions that flowed directly from the gospel doctrine and that corresponded directly to their response of repentance and faith.

But before I begin exploring the six devotions described in Acts 2:42-47, I want to consider Paul’s words in Romans 15. If Acts 2 shows an example of gospel proclamation producing gospel culture, Romans 15 explains why it must be so. This isn’t a possible outcome of gospel proclamation; it’s the necessary outcome.

In fact, we could go so far as to say that the lack of gospel culture within a local church is a doctrinal issue. From time to time, I’ve heard people describe churches this way: “Their doctrine was on point, but the church was really unfriendly.” Or, “The preaching was excellent, but no one greeted me for weeks!”

To which Paul in Romans 15:7 responds, “If a church persists in its cold unfriendliness, then the preaching is not great, and the doctrine is anything but on point.”

Let’s unpack this verse to see if that summary is accurate.

Paul begins this verse with a very important term. The presence of the word “therefore” means what Paul’s about to say is logically dependent on what he’s already said. If what he’s about to say is the structure above the ground, what he’s already said is the foundation below the ground.

So what’s the foundation of gospel culture in a local church? Paul has just wrapped up a section explaining how those who are strong in their faith (that is, who boldly exercise their Christian freedom) are to treat those who are weak in their faith, those who struggle to let go of former regulations regarding food, drink, and holy days.

The section begins by Paul stating negatively what he stated positively in 15:7: “As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions” (14:1). In the instance Paul forbids, Christians only welcome each other provided that they agree on all nonessential, convictional, and preferential matters.

Instead, Paul continues, “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves…For Christ did not please himself.” In other words, God is not glorified when the strong in faith prevail over the weak, but when the weak are patiently served by the strong. It is our willful and happy unity that puts into practice the gospel itself, the good news that a Savior “came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Matt. 20:28).

The last phrase of Romans 15:7 reinforces this purpose: “Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” This is the foundation for what Paul is about to say in the rest of the verse. Our conduct should clearly call attention to the gospel doctrine we proclaim.

So what should our conduct be? There are well over 50 commands in the New Testament concerning how we should and should not treat “one another,” each of which have a vital connection to pure gospel doctrine - that is, to the way God has and hasn’t treated us in Christ. And this verse is one of them.

Paul states it clearly: “welcome one another.” The word welcome is more than just a friendly “hello” and handshake. It carries the idea of gathering someone into a group. If you are hosting a dinner party, when your guests arrive, you welcome them into your home. For the duration of the dinner, they will belong there, eating your food and enjoying your home, because you have welcomed them.

If our motivation is to glorify God by treating each other in a way that proclaims the gospel, we should welcome each other. We should greet, receive, and accept each other into the shared space of the local church. If there’s any doubt this is the foundation for Paul’s command, he puts it beyond debate with the next phrase.

The word as is also a very important term. It invokes a comparison to clarify the previous statement. The way we welcome one another should accord with, or be consistent with, or be accurate to, or be a visible representation of, or obviously flow from the way Christ has welcomed us.

In the midst of a heated conversation with the Pharisees, in which they were demanding Jesus prove Himself by performing a miracle in their midst, a voice from the crowd interrupts Jesus to tell Him that his family is outside looking for Him. In a typical moment of brilliance, Jesus replies, “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of God, he is my brother and sister and mother” (Mark 10:34-35). 

Where has Christ welcomed us? Into His family. Not simply to call us acquitted criminals or restored citizens, but brothers and sisters. What could be more permanent than that? Where do we (or should we) more permanently belong, separate from any earning or performance, than in our families? 

Jesus welcomes us into His family, and He did it through sacrifice. This kind of welcome is always sacrificial. We give up our preferences, our perceived rights, the centering of our vision for what the local church could or should be, so that we can welcome the outsider as we ourselves have been welcomed.

This, according to Paul in Romans 15:7, must be the result of gospel doctrine. The line between gospel proclamation and gospel culture is straight, unbreakable, and inevitable. One cannot exist without the other.

Next month, we’ll dive into the culture of the first local church in Jerusalem, and to the devotions that gospel proclamation fostered in their community.

You could have heard a pin drop.

Peter had the crowds rapt attention. Of course he did! This crowd, several thousand strong, had just witnessed these twelve Jewish men speaking in a variety of local and regional languages, all at the same time.

Peter, who just weeks before had publicly denied any connection to Jesus, stepped to the front and proclaimed the good news. Far from being drunk at 9am, the crowd was witnessing the long-awaited outpouring of the Holy Spirit because Jesus has been raised from the dead as the Savior of the whole world, the Forgiver of sins.

“Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain,” Peter concludes, “that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified” (Acts 2:36; possibly only my emphasis, but probably not).

Luke tells us that the crowd is “cut to the heart” by this news (37). They understand both aspects of the gospel: that Jesus is the Christ, the Lord and Savior, and that they are either directly or indirectly culpable in His crucifixion. 

So they ask, “Brothers, what shall we do?” (37). The question is an evangelist’s dream, and Peter is ready with a response: repent, be baptized, and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Turn away from the life of rejecting Jesus, publicly profess your turning in baptism, and receive the gift of God’s presence with His people - the very gift the crowd was watching on display!

The effect was incredible. “There were added that day about three thousand souls” (41). What a response! The first Spirit-filled proclamation of the death and resurrection of Jesus sparked a small revival.

But here’s the thing: most gospel presentations stop here, with the individual response to the gospel. And most then conclude with the promise of heaven after death. Which is an amazing promise! 

But what about the meantime? What sort of effect should the gospel have on a group of people who are gathered around it? Just like the summer rains cause the grass in my yard to turn green again, what sort of effect should we expect among a people marked by repentance and faith?

We can go to famous passages, like the fruit of the Spirit, to discuss the shape taken by individual transformation, but I’m interested in the culture of a community founded upon the proclamation of, and appropriate response to, the gospel. 

That’s what Luke describes next.

This group of people, repentant and baptized, newly filled with the Holy Spirit, becomes a distinct community. It has certain attributes to it, like any community has. These attributes are directly linked to the gospel itself. The straight line that begins at gospel proclamation and runs through repentance ends in gospel culture.

That’s where my mind has set up camp this year. What attributes should our church have if the gospel is correctly proclaimed and repentance fills the air?

According to Acts 2, gospel culture begins with a resilient devotion, a commitment to prevail in a set of behaviors whatever headwinds we might face. The devotion of the early church was to apostolic teaching, fellowship, shared meals, prayer, radical generosity, and grateful simplicity. This community went far beyond church gatherings to homes, vocations, and dinner tables. 

Gospel culture infused the whole life of the believer.

Over the course of this year, I’ll explore each of those devotions, plus some other aspects to the passage. But worth noting is the absence of a discipleship strategy or process. 

Instead, this culture was marked by what church historian Alan Kreider calls a “patient ferment” within the early church, a process of growth that “was not susceptible to human control, and its pace could not be sped up. But in the ferment there was a bubbling energy…that had immense potential” (3).

With the right ingredients and the right environment, the gospel will produce a community of people who love each other as Christ loved them first; which, after all, is how we’re supposed to be known anyway (John 13:34-35).

By Steve Gregg

Happy New Year Creekside!

As we come to the end of 2023, I find that this year I am more reflective than usual. These reflections and thoughts are not only more pronounced, they are also more varied. I described it to someone that it’s as if there are 2 or 3 radio stations playing at the same time, but instead of varied kinds of music, it’s one station of joy, one of grief, and another of gratitude.

The joy comes from several areas, but mainly from seeing the flourishing of so many people I love, including our Creekside church family. Seeing so many families welcoming their first baby into their family has been a consistent source of joy. Seeing how far God has brought someone in a relatively short time from isolation into community and a dramatically new life. It’s having a church budget discussion and, because of your generosity, prayerfully considering how much to increase ministry budgets for 2024. There are just so many good things going on around me, and us as a church, that I am reminded that it’s important to enjoy them for the good gifts they are to all of us.

Along with joy, however there is also grief. Though this grief comes from different areas, I think it’s mainly the passage of time and finding myself moving from one phase of my life to another.  When Rosie, our daughter, was married this past summer, it was such a special day for Kim and I on so many fronts. And yet, as background to the day’s events, there was an underlying awareness that the relationship had changed and she would never be a daughter in our house in the same way again. While that’s a good thing, as a parent there was a palpable sense of loss mixed in with the joy. In speaking with folks going through similar changes it seems to be a common thread. I am finding it helpful to remember that it’s not only okay to lament or grieve a loss, it’s good. Scripture, especially the Psalms, are full of lament. It’s a good thing at times to be sad at a loss or a passing. Could this be why so many older folks (of which I’m now one) ) can tend towards being grumpy or gruff? Is the root of it grief? If so, it’s far better to be sad and lament, letting the Lord do His work of comforting us and carrying our burdens, rather than lashing out or blaming others.

Finally, gratitude. Whatever emotional station is playing in my heart and mind, I always try to end here. Like an after dinner sweet or a post workout glass of cold water, I want to end my time listening to and focusing on the sense of gratitude that this year brings. I have been given another year with Kim, my family and friends to enjoy them and see God at work. In the church, I get to see answers to prayers that were prayed years ago being fulfilled in front of me in the most remarkable ways. I have said that if you had told me years ago that God would be at work in Creekside in the ways that He has, I would not have believed you. But here we are; not perfect by a long way, but walking with Jesus and growing in His grace every day. This gratitude helps me to have a peace of mind about 2024 and the question marks ahead, knowing that I have seen God’s faithfulness again and again. I can let go of the results and simply seek to be faithful with what is in front of me. God’s fruit will be enough, whatever it turns out to be.

As  2023 ends and we step into the unknown of 2024, what “stations” are playing on your emotional radio? Whatever they are, be sure to listen and learn, ending  with gratitude and the knowledge that the same Father that walked with you through 2023 is there to walk with you into the new year. Whatever it brings, it’s always helpful to know that He will be there at your side through it all. Happy New Year Creekside family!

By Stephen Powell

We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother. (1 John 4:19–21 ESV)

Advent season is a time when we are reminded of the amazing, faithful love the Lord has for His people. The miraculous gift given on Christmas Day, our Savior, Christ the Lord, is the tremendous display of God’s love for us. The love that he shows is deep and rich, far beyond our understanding.

1 John chapter 4 is a beautiful explanation of what exactly the Lord has done for us in displaying His love and the Scriptures there call us to walk in love toward others that is both inspired and empowered by the love shown to us.

We love because he has first loved us. (1 John 4:19) We are incapable of loving another on our own, at least in a true sacrificial way, apart from the grace of God. Before the Lord brings life to our soul, we are dead to good works that reflect the Gospel. Sure, there may be actions that we see in the world that are loving, but they can’t be done with the motivation of reflecting the love of Christ apart from a changed, reborn heart. Those of us who have received the gift of faith and have repented of our sin, we have power to obey and walk in love.

Not only have we been given the ability, but we have been given a motive. Much like the child on Christmas day that unwraps the most amazing gift he could have imagined and wants to tell everyone about it, we love others because we have been redeemed, purchased with amazing love, and everyone needs to know! And, they will know by our love. (John 13:35) They will know we are his by our love for one another and for those around us.

Therefore, may we live lives of humble, sacrificial, generous, patient, faithful love that display the amazing grace of our Lord.

By Eric Olson

There are those who think that I’m a bit crazy because … sometime in late September each year, I begin playing Christmas music!  Yes, I know, that’s well before Thanksgiving and even Halloween.  What can I say?  I love Christmas music, and just can’t wait any longer to once again revel in my favorite Christmas songs and hymns.  One of those classic Christmas hymns is especially relevant to this week’s Advent theme – joy.  

Joy to the world! the Lord is come;
Let Earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.

Have you ever taken some time to just think about the idea of joy?  What is it?  Most people, and most dictionaries, will say something like, “Joy is a feeling of great pleasure and happiness.”  On the surface, that seems fine, but after a moment’s consideration, you realize that this definition of joy is entirely a subjective response to your situation.  Situations change, so this common idea of “joy” is actually just a fleeting, momentary feeling – here one moment and gone the next.  That kind of “joy” is insubstantial, like smoke or mist, easily blown away by the wind.  In fact, it sounds a lot like hevel (remember the Ecclesiastes sermon series).

When we sing “Joy to the World” we are not rejoicing over a momentary feeling of happiness.  We’re exulting over the arrival and reign of Christ Jesus.  His reign is “an everlasting reign, which shall not pass away” (Daniel 7:14).  Clearly, we need a better definition of joy.  Let’s look to the Scriptures.

Psalm 16:11
11 You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Joy is most certainly not a fleeting emotional experience.   True joy – the “fullness of joy” – has always been found, and always will be found in the presence of God.  True joy is permanent because the eternal Triune God is its foundation.

But, you might respond, I live here in the real world.  Life is hard.  There’s sin and illness and suffering and evil.  Fullness of joy may be found in the presence of God, but not so much here in 21st century America.  

Fortunately, Scripture directly addresses that objection in the book of Habakkuk.  Consider Habakkuk’s situation.  About 50 years earlier, the northern kingdom of Israel had been conquered by Assyria and its people taken into captivity as slaves.  Habakkuk lives in the southern kingdom of Judah, which is also a hotbed of idolatry and sinfulness.  The LORD God has instructed Habakkuk to prophesy against his own nation for their sins.  In that situation, Habakkuk wrote:

Habakkuk 3:17-18
17 Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.

From Habakkuk, we learn that Biblical joy is not just an emotional experience.  In verse 17, Habakkuk describes the terrible hunger and suffering that will come to Judah.  That is hardly the context in which joy would be expected … at least if joy is only an emotional experience.  In verse 18, Habakkuk shows us that joy is also a chosen state of the heart.  Despite the circumstances, Habakkuk knows that the LORD is in control and that the LORD is good; therefore, Habakkuk trusts absolutely in the LORD, who he calls, “the God of my salvation.”  Habakkuk understands that earthly circumstances last only for a while, but that God’s people will dwell in His presence forever.  That truth makes it possible for Habakkuk to choose to rejoice in the LORD, despite the circumstances.  

Habakkuk’s joy was objectively rooted in the unchanging person and purpose of God.  The same can be said of Christians today, but we have an additional advantage.  Habakkuk knew the promises of God.  We know that the promises of God are all fulfilled in Christ Jesus.

The pivotal events began roughly 2000 years ago.  One night, some shepherds were tending their flocks in fields near the village of Bethlehem, as they’d done countless times before.  Suddenly, the evening quiet vanishes in a blaze of glory as an angel of the LORD suddenly appears before them.

Luke 2:10-11
10 And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

When I hear the angel’s words in the context of Old Testament passages like Psalm 16 and Habakkuk 3, the great joy becomes all the more real.  Remember that the fullness of joy is found in the presence of the LORD God.  Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us.  And through faith in Christ Jesus, it is no longer we who live, but Christ lives in us.  The fullness of joy is available to every believer – because its source has taken up residence in our hearts.

And that’s why I can hardly wait for each September, when I can once again begin to sing…

Joy to the world! the Lord is come;
Let Earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the world! the Savior reigns;
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love.

By Jake Graybill

Often, from the second I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, my mind is racing. There is seldom a moment where I am not worrying. Whether it be about my desires, responsibilities, outward-perception, or fears, I find myself worrying more often than I would like to admit. If you’re anything like me, our worries are often endless, and often lead us to places of anxiety, isolation, or unhealthy methods of coping.

At the same time as being filled with worry, we as followers of Jesus recognize the peace he has ushered in. In the second week of advent, we remember and celebrate the “Prince of Peace,” (Isaiah 9:6), but we struggle to have internal peace ourselves. We do recognize that Jesus at his second “arrival” will bring with him the fullness of peace, but how should we as followers of Christ find and live in the peace he has for us now?

I know that many struggle with clinical anxiety and other related mental health struggles. In addition to the healing provided by counseling and clinical medication, we find a glimpse into how we can presently live in the peace of Christ in the words of Psalm 131:

1 O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
    my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
    too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child is my soul within me.
3 O Israel, hope in the Lord
    from this time forth and forevermore.

In the first verse of this psalm, David says to the Lord that his “heart is not lifted up” and “his eyes are not raised too high.” In other words, David’s heart is not proud, nor do his eyes desire much. In the first half of this verse I find conviction that all too often my heart and eyes are not like this. I think our struggle with worry often comes down to the fact that we are prideful and desire too much. We are often inwardly focused with desire to fulfill our “lifted up” hearts. We then tend to worry about all the things and methods in which we try to find satisfaction in, such as acceptance from others, physical pleasure, or money and power. Further, when we look deeper at our lives of worry, we find that often our strongest worries are things that we cannot control in the first place. This stands in contrast to David’s words in the second part of the first verse, “I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.” Here, we find the King of Israel, the person with the highest degree of self-autonomy, says that his mind is not focused on things outside of his control. Even though he has the ability to change more aspects of his life than pretty much anyone, he is not occupied with doing so. While we do have a certain degree of control over our lives, I find it interesting that we tend to overly worry about things that we have no power over in the first place.

Wouldn’t it be nice for the words of David here to hold true in our daily lives, for a day, or even an hour? To not worry about ourselves and things outside of our control? David goes on to give a picture of what this life free from worry looks like in the following verse. “But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”

David describes the result of a life of contentment free from worry like a weaned child. A child who, although no longer receives milk from their mother directly, has complete trust that they will be satisfied. This is the life in Christ I long for, and I think we all do. One that is free from pride and worry, but rather has complete trust in the Lord for all we need. In other words a soul that is indeed calm and quiet.

But how do we get there? How do we achieve this calm and quiet life, especially when our worries and selfish thoughts are ever present?

David concludes his psalm in this way, “O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.” In short, we set our minds on Jesus, and hope in him. We don’t have to worry about whether or not we will be satisfied, because Jesus will (John 6:35). We don’t have to worry about being accepted by others, because in Christ we are called daughters and sons of God (Romans 8:14-17). We don’t have to worry about controlling our lives, because our heavenly father sees us Matthew 6:25-34). Only when we put our hope in Jesus can we become a people who have calmed and quieted souls. A people who are no longer self-seeking for satisfaction or belonging. A people of peace.

Before arriving at Creekside, I worked with members of the Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) community. At the end of every AA meeting, members would gather together and recite aloud the serenity prayer together. I have found this prayer helpful in my daily walk as a reminder to not worry about what I can not control, but to grow in my hope in the Lord.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

Creekside, we’re invited this advent season, and every day to live in the peace that Christ has brought with his arrival, and will bring to fulfillment one day. So let’s join together with David, and Israel before us, and “Hope in the Lord, from this time forth and forevermore.”

By Michael Roop

A bleak feeling surrounded the days leading up to the first Christmas. Humanity languished in its sin. Israel’s temple had been rebuilt, or at least a version of the old, grand building. The sacrifices resumed, and all the rituals, but no glory cloud. God wasn’t there. A dark and unending night covered the world. Where could we turn?

Which makes one of my favorite lines from a Christmas song such a poignant summary of Jesus’ birth:

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

The newborn cries and angelic songs of that first Christmas provided a thrill. The world had “pined” in sin and error since Genesis 3. What’s more, God had not spoken through a prophet for 400 years. Let that sink in! Generations of men and women lived and died waiting for the Messiah, or even just some little sign from God that He hadn’t given up entirely.

That doesn’t sound like a situation that engenders hope. Maybe for many, even those faithfully and patiently waiting for a Savior, hope had taken a foolish feel, the bitter taste of presumption that lingers long in the mouth. Maybe that’s why the message of the angels - “Unto you is born this day a Savior, the Messiah Lord!” - brought such a thrill.


A Look at Hope
As a lifelong Cubs fan, I am well acquainted with the word “hope,” though not always in the positive or reasonable sense of the word. Hope is longing for a desired outcome. You might hope your team wins a championship or a risky business move pays off; you might hope a disease can be cured or pain can be relieved; you might hope a candidate gets elected, you might hope you pass the test, finally get pregnant, receive the job offer or pay the bills.

But the common thread in each display of hope is an inability to guarantee the desired outcome. We long, yearn, consider, meditate, crave, hunger, ache, but we cannot coerce, control or assure the outcome we so ardently desire.

The result can be a roller coaster of gathering evidence and updating predictions, like hurricane hunters constantly updating the forecasted track with new data every few hours. Each game makes the championship more or less likely, each new symptom makes healing more or less assured, each comment makes the expectation of reconciliation more or less reasonable.

All of this is really just an attempt to grapple with our lack of control in a situation where our desired outcome is not guaranteed. This is the Apostle Paul’s line of thought in his letter to the church in Rome: “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience” (8:24-25).

Hope is longing for something we cannot see, an outcome that will bring resolution to our restless souls.


Why Do We Hope?
I whether the common experience of hope, of longing for a desired outcome, isn’t one facet of eternity put into our hearts (Eccl. 3:11). Think of it with me: why do we long for a better day? Why do we dare to expect that tomorrow, or next year or the next generation, will somehow surpass this one? What is the innate impulse to hope?

If our world is only natural and our bodies are only molecules that move until they don’t, perhaps there is an evolutionary benefit. The most cynical among us will look at Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning as proof - those who are biologically predisposed to hope survive to procreate and pass on their genes.

But a gut feeling tells us the human inclination to hope goes deeper than our biology, doesn’t it? Hope is one of the most resilient human experiences, as is its evil twin, despair. Both have a power to abide despite all external evidence. Both hold the power of life - to grasp it in its fullness or destroy it. Both can galvanize people across all dividing lines.

Hope and despair are our responses to a world we cannot control. They are the ways we might make sense of hevel (Eccl 1:1), of the frustrating, unpredictable, enigmatic experience of reality. Of a creation that groans in the futility of a world not as it should be.


Unmatched Hope
To me, Christianity is unmatched in its explanatory power. It makes sense of these intuitions and experiences we have about the world. Take the Apostle Paul for instance. His explanation of our groaning, our longing for a better outcome, brings words to our experience.

In Paul’s mind (guided by the Holy Spirit), this longing we feel as Christians has to do with a temporary mismatch between the renewal of our spirits and bodies that are still wasting away (2 Cor. 4:16-18). Our bodies and our spirits were not designed to be at odds with one another, so in this state of anticipation, we “groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:23).

The groaning of our anticipation joins the chorus of all creation (Rom. 8:22) that longs for a reality in which all things are new. When someone struggles with hope, they might express that struggle by using the phrase, “It’s hard for me to imagine a reality in which this goes well.”

So what is the reality we long for? Jesus used a word to name that reality: kingdom. It is the kingdom of God, or kingdom of heaven, in which all things will be made new, in which all sources of temptation will be removed, in which disease, death, mourning and pain will pass away with the old order (Rev. 21:4). It is in the existence of this kingdom, and its future fullness, that we place our hope.

And the irony is that the very dissonance that defines our season of anticipation is the tool that God uses to build hope in us. Listen to Paul in Romans: “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope…” (5:3-4).

The connection is obvious once stated so clearly: the more we experience a world not as it ought to be, the more we long for the world to be as it ought to be. In other words, the more we long for the kingdom.


Where Shall We Look?
So where can we go looking for evidence that our hope in such an outcome is reasonable? Are we blindly hoping for something that is technically possible, though extremely unlikely? Or something that has equal chances of happening or not? Or something that could very likely happen, but we’ll just have to wait and see?

The New Testament is rife with evidence that the kingdom of God will one day come in its fullness. Jesus’ resurrection makes a strong case, since He is called “the firstfruits” of the resurrection (1 Cor. 15:20-23). We can also look to the presence of the Holy Spirit among us, which Paul tells us is a downpayment of the kingdom (Eph. 1:1) and the reason our hope will not be put to shame (Rom. 5:5). Then, of course, there is the fact that God cannot lie (Tit. 1:2), and therefore His numerous promises of restoration are to be trusted completely.

But perhaps the most obvious evidence of the kingdom’s future appearance is the first appearance of Jesus. Look at the connection made for us by the author of Hebrews:

But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him. (Heb. 9:26-28).

The first appearing of Christ guarantees the second. What He started He will finish. And the result will be the kingdom in its fullness, the redemption of our bodies, the fullness of our adoption, the marriage supper of the Lamb.

This Sunday, we will start an Advent sermon series that will spend less time looking back than looking forward. As we consider the first coming of Jesus, the advent of hope, peace, love and joy, we will look forward to the fullness of those themes that will be ours when He returns.

After all, the crown of righteousness, as Paul said, is laid up for “all who have loved [Jesus’] appearing” (2 Timothy 4:8). May such a love be found growing in us this Advent season.

By Michael Roop

Jesus was confused; the math wasn’t adding up.

A man was on the ground before Him giving thanks. Just minutes prior, this man’s body bore the unmistakable signs of leprosy, a disease as isolating as it is deadly. In a moment of pure grace, his fate was reversed. The outcome for which he never dared to hope had now become real. He was healed, clean, free. And all he did was ask Jesus.

But here’s the rub: this Samaritan man was one of ten men who enjoyed the same euphoric moment of realization. Nine others had made a similar request, and nine others had similarly looked down to find themselves completely healed. This is what led to Jesus’ (apparent) confusion: “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”

We can speculate for quite some time why Jesus felt the need to include a comment about this man’s ethnicity, but perhaps his non-Jewish heritage underscored the rare nature of his actions. Perhaps it was the punctuation point to the sentence written by the math: only one of the ten returned to give praise to God. Or, put another way, only one of the ten came back to close the loop.

CLOSING THE LOOP
That phrase has become very useful to Creekside staff meetings. It describes the moment a project or task is brought to its appointed end. If someone’s name comes up as needing extra care this week, we “close the loop” the following week when the assigned staff member reports back on the care given and updates us on any ongoing needs. When I tell someone I’ll pray for them, I close the loop by letting them know when I actually do. When we give our boys a chore, they close the loop by letting us know when it’s done.

Giving thanks has long been the self-evident conclusion of receiving a gift. At Christmases and birthday parties growing up, I wasn’t allowed to begin opening the next present until I had looked the giver of the current present in the eye and thanked them. Job placement experts will recommend sending a thank you card or email after an interview. Why? Because when we ask for and receive a gift, or when we receive an unrequested and unexpected gift, the joy isn’t complete until thanks is given.

The connection between gratitude and happiness has been the topic of study in the world of psychology for some time. For instance, two years ago Harvard Health published the results of a study that found “gratitude is strongly and consistently associated with greater happiness.” Of course, it should come as no surprise to us that God’s commands are in line with our nature and for our good. But what’s the connection between the two?

C.S. Lewis connected the dots for us in his book Reflection on the Psalms: “I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed (my emphasis). It is frustrating to have discovered a new author and not to be able to tell anyone how good he is; to come suddenly, at the turn of the road, upon some mountain valley of unexpected grandeur and then to have to keep silent because the people with you care for it no more than for a tin can in the ditch; to hear a good joke and find no one to share it with.”

Perhaps this is part of social media’s draw on our imagination. For all its faults, it provides a massive opportunity to consummate our joy by posting a picture of an amazing meal or an incredible experience and then watch people join us in our joy as they hit the “like” button. Expressing our delight to the masses provides an opportunity to complete it.

AN ODD COMMAND
Seventeen times, mostly in the Psalms, the authors of Scripture command God’s people to give thanks to God. It’s an odd thing to command, isn’t it? As I look back on the times I was instructed to give thanks as a child, I can’t help but wonder whether the forced nature of the three-sentence card or scripted phone call diminished the power of the thanks. It was inauthentic, formulaic, shallow.

But what I now understand, as an adult and father who is similarly helping my boys develop this pattern, is that my parents were training me to experience joy. They were patiently clearing a path for me to walk decades into adulthood and centuries into the new creation.

Consider with me the famous command of Paul in Philippians:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (4:6-7).

Do you see the key ingredient? Peace (and joy) comes with Thanksgiving. Why? Because the discipline of giving thanks causes us to call to mind concrete evidence of God’s worthiness to be trusted. When the uncontrollable unknown lies before me, peace is found in remembering that God has already proven Himself to me time and again. And that, come what may, I can never lose the one thing I cannot live without: Him (Heb. 13:5).

So does the coerced nature of our thanksgiving diminish its value? Far from it. Lewis concludes the quote above: “The Scotch catechism says that man’s chief end is ‘to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.’ But we shall then know that these are the same thing. Fully to enjoy is to glorify. In commanding us to glorify Him, God is inviting us to enjoy Him.”

The command to give thanks is an invitation to greater joy, to savor the One in whose presence is the fullness of joy (Psalm 16:11), the One who will never fail to satisfy your soul, even into eternity. This is the sad state of the nine healed lepers. Sure, they are healed, but their joy is not what it could have been. For nine men, that moment was about healing. For one, that moment was about Jesus. Only his joy was made complete.

CREATING THE HABIT
When, throughout the course of your day, is the time for you to create a habit of gratitude? Perhaps you might trade in your nightly doom scroll for ten minutes of calling to mind the blessings of the day or the prayers answered. Perhaps your commute home from work or class is the time to acknowledge that God gave you all the strength you needed to face your day. Maybe milestones of birthdays, graduations, holidays or promotions are the time to, like the Samaritan leper, return to Jesus and give thanks to Him.

James 1:17 says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” Have you received a good gift today? Do you have something, or did you get to experience something that was good? Did you wake up indoors, find food in your refrigerator and clothes in your closet; did you have the opportunity to walk in a good work prepared by God for you (Eph. 2:10)?

Then close the loop. Thank the Giver for that gift, and find the compounding interest of this discipline will result in a richer, deeper affection and trust in His goodness and faithfulness to us. Let us be a people whose habit is to obey the words of Asaph sung on the day Thanksgiving:

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; for His steadfast love endures forever! (1 Chron. 16:34).

I’m not ashamed to admit it: this Sunday might be my favorite Sunday of the year. This Sunday is our annual milestone to remember together that we’re far happier when we give than when we receive. There is a satisfying joy in being generous that we experience together each year.

The idea emerged four years ago as we collectively geared up for another holiday shopping season: What if we put down a waypoint each year to remind ourselves what Jesus taught us, that a life of giving is far better than a life of receiving? We decided to dedicate the Sunday before Black Friday and Small Business Saturday to a sermon on generosity.

Look, I get it. I’m cynical, too. A sermon on generosity during the end-of-year giving cycle? Really? How could we convince people that we weren’t, like everyone else, ultimately interested in our own bottom line? But covering a budget deficit was never the point of Generosity Sunday, and there was only one way to prove it.

So, on Sunday, November 24, 2019, I concluded my sermon on generosity by telling you that we would be giving away every cent of that morning’s offering. What followed was so much fun, and the response so amazing, that we decided to do it every year.

Last year, we had the joy of splitting $50,000 between two of our local partners. City Church, our sister EFCA church here in Gainesville, received a gift toward the capital campaign that has allowed them to purchase their building (right on 1st and University!), and Gainesville Community Ministry was encouraged to press into its mission to give help and hope to those in need.

This weekend will be our fifth annual Generosity Sunday. To date, we have given just under $175,000 to local and global ministry partners. These one-time gifts are unplanned and unexpected by our partners, providing an opportunity to bless those whose hard work blesses our community and our global neighbors. And, it helps us experience what Jesus said we would experience in a life of generosity.

So come ready to join us in our pursuit of joy!

By Marilyn Youngquist

Give us a brief overview of your work and its responsibilities.

I taught high school Algebra, and later Chemistry, for 5 years and now I am a stay at home mom to a 4.5 and a 2.5 year old and I run a part-time in-home preschool called Potter’s Clay Preschool. As a stay at home mom (SAHM), I am in charge of managing the home and the children which includes cooking, cleaning, making appointments, shopping, managing finances, being the main point person for taking care of the children and making sure they’re survivin’ and thrivin’!

 I want to preface everything with the fact that, while I'm very grateful to speak on my experience as a SAHM,  there are many women who are or have been SAHMs and each one of us is different and I’m only speaking through my experience.

How does your vocation contribute to the common good?

When I was a teacher at Eastside High, it was easy to see how my vocation made an impact because I got paid to work with the vulnerable populations that God has stated that we should care for.  My students came from poor backgrounds, some were functionally orphans, and some were sojourners, so when I transitioned out of that I felt purposeless even though I knew that staying at home was a good thing for our family.

Lately, though, the Lord has been teaching me the importance of being a stay at home mom and how important the very early years are to a person's development.  Although staying at home can at times be monotonous, intellectually boring, physically draining, and thankless, I now see that with every kiss, every hug, every loving discipline given and much more, I am prayerfully investing into a culture in my home that is conducive to a safe and loving environment to grow up in. And, if the Lord wills it, my children will grow up to be secure, strong, noble and kind adults who genuinely love and serve Him,  and I think the world needs more of that.

How do you experience brokenness in your vocation?

Two words: Toddler Tantrums. I had my daughter when I was freshly twenty-four which is pretty young for my generation, and I remember when my daughter threw her first tantrum in a public place. After I got over the initial humiliation, I became a little excited because I felt like I had finally been initiated into The Mom’s Club! That tantrum was a communion that connected me with all moms throughout space and time and made me feel like a real mom.

Now having seen many tantrums since, I will say it is a hardship in my vocation. Having to deal with your child(ren) misbehaving over and over and pushing your buttons while making sure that you don’t overreact or over- or under-punish, etc is incredibly stressful at times. Another brokenness is that feeling so many stay at home moms feel that we aren’t doing enough, ever, which is a tremendous burden.

I’ve also experienced brokenness in having a child with health problems that consume all of your time and energy in all aspects: physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. And even in my experience in becoming a mom, there was a lot of brokenness in the labor and deliveries of my children which is a direct result of the Fall. However, because of the Gospel, those experiences have been so redeemed and I count those trials as blessings now.

What do you do to prepare yourself to face that brokenness?

By prayer mainly. I consider myself a relaxed Type A type. So not neurotic like we’re so often classified as, but I definitely  fit the oldest sister stereotype which means that I research and make spreadsheets for just about everything. My propensity is to try to Google all my brokeness away. However the Lord has made it so clear to me that He is truly the sovereign and omniscient God, which means that He knows what trials and challenges I’ll face each day and, like a great teacher, will prepare me for them.

So even though the research will probably never fully stop, I pray all the time now and ask God to give me wisdom (James 1:5), to guide me to areas in the Bible to gain wisdom for a situation or guide my research, and to help me glean what I need to learn during the trials so that I can grow for the future.

How can you glorify God in your vocation?

I’ll preface this by saying that all of these things include my husband and can be easily replaced with “we”.

• By showing my kids how I attempt to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.
• By doing my best to create a safe, secure, loving and Christ-centered home for my children and those who need a home.
• By showing my kids how I attempt to love my neighbor as myself and incorporating them into the things I do to serve my neighbors.
• By seeing my vocation not as an entrapment but as one that has a flexibility in the workday that most people don’t have.
• By finding creative ways to show up for people around me who need me even when it’s inconvenient or difficult for me to bring/have the kids along.
• By seeing my need for people and friends who aren’t in my stage of life and making sure that I don’t neglect them.
• And finally, by letting my children be a part of events and see me fellowship with other believers in natural and organic ways, as well as in the organized things.