The Spirit in Family

I met God on a smelly path between a septic pond and a river—an apt metaphor for my life that day. As a new pastor, I was consumed by guilt and doubt, questioning my role as a husband and a pastor and my worth to God. “Why would You love me?” I cried out as the stench of the rotting sewage filled my nostrils. His answer rushed in and washed away my doubt. “Why not you?” That day, I learned that the message, method, majesty, and mystery of the life and purpose of Jesus boil down to one word: grace.

God forgives us. We forgive others. And we forgive ourselves. That’s the life-changing message of the New Testament. It’s the method behind the madness of the cross, the majesty of God displayed in seeming disgrace. Grace is the mystery that is a stumbling block to those who live by the law and foolishness to the learned. But to those summoned by God’s grace, it is the wisdom and power of God.

God’s love for us has never been in question (1 Corinthians 1:22-24). Grace clarifies this love and summons us to love Him in return, freeing us to fulfill the first and greatest commandment: to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.

Grace is also the key to unlocking our love for our neighbors and ourselves. Until we wipe the smudge of sin from our glasses, we will never see the beauty of the person before us. In the same way, we must wipe the film off the mirror to see ourselves. Grace removes the stain of sin so we can love.

And yet grace is the one thing we struggle with the most. The Law gives us clear boundaries. Grace forgives us when we cross them. Wisdom grants us sophistication. Grace seems too simple to be true. But to those who get it, grace is a life-giving flow of love and acceptance.

Live by grace by receiving it freely and then offering it to others.

In the rising sun of an early spring day, I noticed a thousand silvery strands covering my yard.

Although my grass was still more winter brown than spring green, the spiders were out forming their webs. Sticky strands that would be death traps for the thousands of insects soon to emerge as the weather warmed.

Satan has laid his sticky webs, his death traps, across my life as well. I’m sorry to say, I’ve managed to get entangled in them with a repetition that might be funny if it weren’t so life-threateningly sad.

First example. Halfway through college, on an end-of-year beach trip, a friend handed me a Rum and Coke—my first taste of liquor. The next few days in Myrtle Beach were fantastic. My natural shyness was washed away by the Rum. I discovered I was pretty smooth when I was not being shy. I got the prettiest girl (her name was Toni) on the beach and fell head over heels over her. Of course, I wanted that feeling to continue.

But in three months, I was an alcoholic, living to drink. In another month, as I read the inevitable “Dear John” letter from Toni, I heard Satan laughing. I was trapped in a hell that didn’t stop until I was on my knees before God in a jail cell.

Another example. I dated the same girl throughout my junior and senior years of high school. Her name was Cathy. She was the first girl I had seriously kissed. I took her to both the Junior and Senior Proms. We were a good match, comfortable with each other. She was a sweet, innocent soul.

But then Satan sent another girl across my path (1 Peter 5:8). This girl was not so innocent. And I, being the fine, upstanding guy I was, dropped Cathy without so much as a goodbye so I could chase after the lusty new girl. I will forever hear Cathy’s last words to me, speaking through tears over the phone: “What did I do?” And I heard Satan’s hideous laughter.

Lately, Satan has tried a different tack. He whispers in my ear, “Look at how good a writer you are! Look at how people love your writing. You’re the greatest.”

No, I’m not. The truth is, I only try to write what my Lord tells me. These are His words, graciously given to me to put down on paper. If my devotions move people, and I hope they do, then I want people to praise Him and give Him the glory.

The Lord gave us an instruction manual: His Word. We should use it. For a long time, I didn’t do that, and I paid the price.

Put God’s words in your heart today. Arm yourself against Satan’s laughter.

Our actions matter. Children watch, absorb, internalize, and learn. But perfection isn’t required. I grew up in an imperfect family with perfect provision.

My home was simultaneously uncertain and stable, chaotic and ordered, insecure and solid. We prayed before every meal, attended church on Sundays, and celebrated Christmas and Easter. My grandparents and cousins often gathered to swim, boat, and enjoy family treats like Coke floats, beans and applesauce, and snickerdoodles. There was boisterous laughter, hide-and-seek, theme parks, and sleepovers. It was magical. 

But life is never just one thing (1 Peter 4:8). Struggles of addiction plagued our family, bills went unpaid, and divorce split our home. I learned a scarcity mentality, the stress of money, the need to shield myself from hurt and disappointment, a sincere doubt in marriage, and a lack of trust. But I also learned that love, faith, family, and traditions can have a greater influence—because of God.

In the mix of life, in this imperfect world, God never leaves us as He finds us. In the chaos, He can restore. It’s a work in progress, but He is persistent. In our imperfect, dysfunctional family, I found that in His love, provision is sufficient, restoration is possible, and love isn’t finite. God can make our imperfections perfect because “love covers a multitude of sins.”

Let God give you the perfect provision you need. 

I make bread in my slow cooker. What started as a necessity during the 2020 COVID pandemic is now part of my baking portfolio. Just the smell of bread baking brings a smile to my lips. When the aroma floats throughout the house, I get out the butter, check the bread for doneness, and remove it from the pot. This hot, crusty mound of goodness begs to be cut and smeared with butter. And I give in willingly to the request. Freshly baked bread should be among the top ten comfort foods.

Jesus called himself the Bread of Life. He told a crowd that anyone who eats this bread—meaning Himself—would live forever. They took His words literally but missed the spiritual point. Jesus wanted them to understand that to live a full life in a fallen world required believing who He was: the Messiah.

The words Jesus spoke over two millennia ago still have power (John 6:35). I need the Bread of Life to walk in freedom and overcome obstacles. I need to feed on Jesus daily. Reading, studying, listening to, and meditating on the Word of God are ways to get my spiritual comfort food. But staying on this sacred diet requires an intentional effort. When life, my laziness, and even church come before God, God gently reminds me that I’ve missed my quiet time meals with Him.

If I forget my slow cooker bread or lose it in the refrigerator, it will grow stale and moldy over time. Jesus, the Bread of Life, has no expiration date. He is fresh every day into eternity. And this Bread is free to all who receive and believe in Him.

Jesus waits to be the everlasting comfort food for your soul and spirit. Try this Bread and receive life.

My phone said 5:05 a.m. I hit send, hoping she was sleeping tight. The goal was not to wake her but to be the first message she saw when she woke up.

M.W. is one of three friends that I pray for daily. I send a text every day, regardless of where I am or what I’m doing. I’ve texted in the wee hours of the morning while holding vigil in the hospital, from conferences, from family vacations, and from long walks during alone time. The point is to pray daily.

When I look at the time frame I’ve been sending these prayers, I’m surprised. Over seven years. How time flies. But don’t think I’m perfect in this effort. There have been days I’ve missed. Not intentionally, but by accident—like when I was stuck in the Chicago airport amid hundreds of others after my plane was canceled. Between the stress and the physical workout of simply maneuvering the crowd and getting to a hotel, it just got past me.

Still, that didn’t mean I didn’t pray. It just meant I forgot to email or text. My friends have grown to expect these prayers, and unbeknownst to me, every one fits their specific need for that day. And that is the work of Holy Spirit, our intercessor and the keeper of our prayers handed directly to the Father.

James wanted to stress the importance of accountability and the vital role prayer plays in that act (James 5:16). He showed us that vulnerability and truth before the Lord and our friends would lead us to a spiritual healing well worth the effort. James packed a punch when he said the prayers of a righteous person are powerful and effective. Our prayers can intervene for others when they can’t for themselves.

Why won’t folks share their deep prayer needs? Perhaps it’s illness, shame, or even pride. After all, we have a façade to maintain, one that God already sees through. Why try to hide it? We should confess our prideful sins, our deep needs, and allow our friends to pray for us, letting Holy Spirit take their prayers on our behalf and present them directly to the Great Healer. Prayers from those who love us work amazing things once Holy Spirit takes hold of them.

Pray for your friends, and let them pray for you. 

Note from the author: You will notice that references to Holy Spirit are missing the word “the.” Instead, we recognize Holy Spirit as a person, part of the Trinity, and not as an inanimate object, but as our intercessor and worker in our hearts.