It was June 2016, Queen Elizabeth’s ninetieth birthday. From her carriage, the monarch waved to the crowds, passing in front of long lines of red-coated soldiers standing at perfect, unflinching attention. It was a warm day in England, and the guards were dressed in their traditional dark wool pants, wool jackets buttoned to the chin, and massive bear-fur hats. As the soldiers stood in rigid rows under the sun, one guard began to faint. Remarkably, he maintained his strict control and simply fell forward, his body remaining straight as a board as he planted his face in the sandy gravel. There he lay—somehow still at attention.
It took years of practice and discipline for this guard to learn such self-control, to hold his body in place even as he was falling unconscious. The apostle Paul describes such training: “I discipline my body to keep it under control,” he wrote (1 Corinthians 9:27
While God’s grace (not our efforts) undergirds all we do, our spiritual life deserves rigorous discipline. As God helps us discipline our mind, heart, and body, we learn to keep our attention fixed on Him, even amid trials or distractions.
Lindisfarne, also known as Holy Island, is a tidal island in England connected to the mainland by a narrow road. Twice a day, the sea covers the causeway. Signs alert visitors to the dangers of crossing during high tide. Yet, tourists regularly disregard the warnings and often end up sitting atop submerged cars or swimming to raised safety huts where they can be rescued. The tide is predictable, as sure as the rising sun. And warnings are everywhere; you can’t possibly miss them. Yet, as one writer described, Lindisfarne is “where the reckless try to outrace the tide.”
Proverbs tells us that it’s foolish to be “reckless and careless” (14:16
While we’ll sometimes need to act decisively or swiftly, we can resist recklessness. As we receive and practice God’s wisdom, He’ll give us the guidance we need when we need it.
There’s a man people hire as they’re dying, paying him to show up at their funerals and reveal secrets they never shared while they were alive. The man has interrupted eulogies. He’s asked stunned officiants to sit down when they started to object. He once stood to explain how the man in the casket had won the lotto but never told a soul and for decades pretended to be a successful businessman. Multiple times the hired man has confessed infidelity to a widowed spouse. One might question whether these actions were exploitative or enacted in good faith, but what’s obvious is people’s hunger to be absolved of past sins.
Having someone else confess for us (especially after we’re dead) is a futile and risky way to deal with secrets. These stories, however, reveal a deep truth: we have a need to confess, to unburden ourselves. Confession cleanses us of those things that we’ve hidden and allowed to fester. “Confess your sins to each other,” James says, “and pray for each other so that you may be healed” (5:16). Confession releases us from burdens that bind us, freeing us to commune with God—praying with a heart open to Him and to our faith community. Confession enacts healing.
James invites us to live an open life, confessing to God and those closest to us the pains and failings we’re tempted to bury. We don’t have to carry these burdens alone. Confession is a gift to us. God uses it to cleanse our heart and set us free.
Our former church in Virginia held baptisms in the Rivanna River where often the sunshine is warm, but the water is frigid. After our Sunday service, we’d load into our cars and caravan to a city park where neighbors tossed Frisbees and kids mobbed the playground. We were quite a spectacle, traipsing to the river’s edge. Standing in the icy water, I would offer Scripture and immerse those being baptized into this tangible expression of God’s love. As they emerged, soaked to the bone, cheers and clapping erupted. Climbing up the bank, friends and family enveloped the newly baptized in hugs—everyone getting drenched. We had cake, drinks, and snacks. The neighbors watching didn’t always understand what was happening, but they knew it was a celebration.
Jesus’ story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32) reveals that it’s cause for celebration whenever someone returns home to God. Anytime someone says yes to God’s invitation, it’s time to party. When the son who’d abandoned his father returned, the father immediately insisted on showering him with a designer robe, a shiny ring, and new shoes. “Bring the fatted calf,” he said. “Let’s have a feast and celebrate” (v. 23). This was a massive, exuberant party including whoever would join the revelry. They “began to celebrate” (v.24).
President Abraham Lincoln had emancipated people held in slavery two-and-a half-years earlier and the Confederacy had surrendered, yet the state of Texas still hadn’t acknowledged the freedom of enslaved persons. However, on June 19, 1865, Union army general Gordon Granger rode into Galveston, Texas and demanded that all enslaved persons be released. Imagine the shock and joy as shackles fell off and those in bondage heard the pronouncement of freedom.
God sees the oppressed, and He’ll ultimately announce freedom for those under the weight of injustice. This is true now just as it was true in Moses’ day. God appeared to him from a burning bush, with an urgent message: “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt,” God said (Exodus 3:7). He not only saw Egypt’s brutality against Israel—but He also planned to do something about it. “I have come down to rescue them,” God declared, “and to bring them . . . into a good and spacious land” (v. 8). He intended to declare freedom to Israel, and Moses would be the mouthpiece. “I am sending you to Pharaoh,” God told his servant, “to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt” (v. 10).
Though God’s timing may not happen as quickly as we hope, one day He’ll free us from all bondage and injustice. He gives hope and liberation to all who are oppressed.
A century ago, lush forest covered roughly 40 percent of Ethiopia, but today it’s around 4 percent. Clearing acreage for crops while failing to protect the trees has led to an ecological crisis. The vast majority of the remaining small patches of green are protected by churches. For centuries, local Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahido churches have nurtured these oases in the midst of the barren desert. If you look at aerial images, you see verdant islands surrounded by brown sand. Church leaders insist that watching over the trees is part of their obedience to God as stewards of His creation.
The prophet Isaiah wrote to Israel, a people who lived in an arid land where bare desert and brutal droughts threatened. And Isaiah described the future God intended, where “the desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom” (Isaiah 35:1). God intends to heal His people, but He intends to heal the earth too. He’ll “create new heavens and a new earth” (65:17). In God’s renewed world, “The desert will bloom with flowers” (35:2
God’s care for creation—including people—motivates us to care for it too. We can live in sync with His ultimate plan for a healed and whole world—being caretakers of what He’s made. We can join God in making all kinds of deserts bloom with life and beauty.
On December 30, 1862, the US Civil War raged. Union and Confederate troops camped seven hundred yards apart on opposing sides of Tennessee’s Stones River. As they warmed themselves around campfires, Union soldiers picked up their fiddles and harmonicas and began playing “Yankee Doodle.” In reply, the Confederate soldiers offered “Dixie.” Remarkably, both sides joined for a finale, playing “Home, Sweet Home” in unison. Sworn enemies shared music in the dark night, glimmers of an unimagined peace. The melodic truce was short-lived. The next morning, they put down their fiddles and picked up their rifles, and 24,645 soldiers died.
Our human efforts to create peace inevitably wear thin. Hostilities cease in one place, only to ignite somewhere else. One relational dispute finds harmony, only to be embroiled in distress again months later. The Scriptures tell us that God is our only trustworthy peacemaker. Jesus said it plainly, “In me you . . . have peace” (16:33). We have peace in Jesus. While we participate in His peacemaking mission, it’s God’s reconciliation and renewal that make real peace possible.
Christ tells us we can’t escape conflict. “In this world [we] will have trouble,” Jesus says. Strife abounds. “But take heart!” He adds, “I have overcome the world” (v. 33). While our efforts often prove futile, our loving God (v. 27) makes peace in this fractious world.
When France and Argentina met in the 2022 World Cup final, it was an incredible contest that many dubbed the “greatest World Cup match in history.” As the final seconds ticked off in extra time, the score was tied 3-3, sending the soccer teams to penalty kicks. After Argentina made the winning goal, the nation erupted in celebration. More than a million Argentineans overwhelmed downtown Buenos Aires. Drone footage spread across social media showing this raucous, happy scene. One BBC report described how the city quaked with “an explosion of joy.”
Joy is always a wonderful gift. Proverbs, though, describes how a city, a people, can experience joy that goes even deeper and lasts far longer. “When the righteous prosper,” Proverbs says, “the city rejoices” (11:10). When those who truly live by God’s designs for humanity begin to influence a community, then this signals good news because it means God’s justice is taking hold. Greed diminishes. The poor find support. The oppressed are protected. Whenever God’s right way of living flourishes, then there’s joy and “blessing” in the city (v. 11).
If we’re genuinely living out God’s ways, then the result will be good news for everyone. The way we live will make the community around us better and more whole. God invites us to be part of His work to heal the world. He invites us to bring joy to the city.
For decades, McDonald’s ruled fast food with their Quarter Pounder burger. In the 1980s, a rival chain cooked up an idea to dethrone the company with the golden arches. A&W offered the Third Pound Burger—larger than McDonald’s—and sold it for the same price. Even more, A&W’s burger won numerous blind taste tastes. But the burger bombed. Nobody bought it. Eventually, they dropped it from the menu. Research revealed that consumers misunderstood the math and thought the Third Pound Burger was smaller than the Quarter Pounder. A grand idea failed because people missed the basics.
Jesus warned of how easy it is to miss the basics. Religious leaders, scheming to trap and discredit Him during the week He was crucified, posed a strange, hypothetical scenario about a woman who was widowed seven times (Matthew 22:23–26). Jesus responded, insisting that this knotty dilemma wasn’t a problem at all. Rather, their problem was how they didn’t “know the Scriptures or the power of God” (v. 29). The Scriptures, Jesus insisted, aren’t first intended to answer logical or philosophical puzzles. Rather, their primary aim is to lead us to know and love Jesus and to “have eternal life” in Him (John 5:39). These are the basics the leaders missed.
We often miss the basics too. The Bible’s main aim is an encounter with the living Jesus. It would be heartbreaking to miss it.
