Sunday, May 11, 2025
Thursday, May 8, 2025
Wednesday, May 7, 2025
Recommended Reading
"If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." — Isaac Newton
DA Carson, looking at the history of Israel and the modern Church, once remarked that 'belief' is cyclical... "one generation believes the gospel, the next assumes the gospel, and the following generation denies it..."
If Carson is right [and I think he is], then we are coming out of a spiritual winter [denial] and are on the cusp of a spring awakening [belief].
There is a generation ready to believe. Ready to receive the gospel. Ready to deepen their faith. The question I have is, who will lead them? Who will walk with them? Who will guide them, "toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus..."
"Young men grow up when older men show up."
Brother, your presence matters. If we are going to reach the next generation of men—men who know Jesus, follow Jesus, and then reproduce themselves—presence is the first and most important step.
Young men do not grow through online lectures. They do not grow through self-discipline, stoic philosophy, or the latest workout and diet fad. Men grow when men older show up, build something with them, listen, and invite them into maturity [as mentors or as fathers].
Anthony Bradley, a co-laborer I highly respect and admire, recently wrote,
It's Time to Rethink Everything. Let me be blunt: the 1950s/1960s youth model—designed in the mid-20th century to entertain teenagers and keep them out of 'grown-up' church—is failing our young men. Your son deserves better. It wasn't built for the current crisis of boys and men. It wasn't built for boys having to navigate a world saturated in social media messaging. It wasn't built for the kind of spiritual formation your sons actually need. Demand better for them. And it certainly wasn't built with covenant theology in mind.
Teenage boys today don't need a 25-year-old 'cool guy' handing out pizza and playing games. They need grown men to coach them about life. They need deep connections with their fathers. They need elders. They need consistent, older, wiser male presence forming them in the way of Christ through real-life engagement—building, eating, working, listening, praying, serving, loving their mothers and sisters well. That's what the data shows. That's what the Bible commands and models. And that's what the church is failing to deliver... Our boys deserve better!
The burden is twofold. First, churches must get serious about training, supporting, and forming fathers. Not just preaching about 'being a good dad,' but cultivating a culture where men are actively shaped into spiritual, intellectual, and emotional leaders at home—especially those who never had fatherhood modeled for them. Every father in the church should know he is not alone and can get help from any of his brothers at any time. He should be surrounded by a community of men committed to his growth and maturity in Christ and as a husband and father.
Second, we need to dismantle every system in the church that treats teenage boys as spiritual outsiders until they 'grow up.' It's utter nonsense. If a boy has been baptized into the covenant community, then the church has made a vow before God to shepherd him—not when he's 18, but now. That's not a program. That's not a nice idea. That's covenantal responsibility. And it doesn't happen in a youth room with beanbags and devotionals. It happens through sustained spiritual formation in the context of intergenerational relationships—where boys are brought into the worship, work, and wisdom of the men around them. High school boys don't belong in children's/youth ministry. They need their teenage years tethered to their fathers and the elders of the church—these men are their lifeline for crossing into adulthood. The data could not be clearer on this.
We have to stop treating boys like a separate category of Christian and then shame them for acting like children. They are not pre-Christians. They are not problems to manage. They are brothers. They are sons of the covenant. They are members of the visible church. And when we isolate them from the full life of the body, when we ignore their need for male formation by their fathers and elder father-figures in the life of the church, we deny what their baptism declares.
If the church wants to respond seriously to the crisis of fatherlessness, the boy crisis, and the breakdown of male development, it begins here: support the fathers, and embed the boys in intergenerational relationships in the life of the church. Create a culture where men see the spiritual formation of the next generation as an ordinary, expected part of Christian maturity. And when you baptize a child, mean it. There must be a clear rite of passage into the adult community—long before high school graduation.
Presence isn't optional. It's covenantal. And it's past time the church acted like it. Boys in the church are being shortchanged—and it's a shame. Parents must start demanding more. Churches need to stop outsourcing boys' formation to people who, according to the data, have minimal long-term impact and focus on the ones who do—ie., their fathers and father-figures in the church. Build the fathers and forge a brotherhood in community—because they're the ones who should bear the lion's share of forming the adolescent brain and soul into adulthood.
Carson is right. Bradley is right. The answer is intergenerational discipleship.
What are we going to do about it?
For the next generation. For the King,
Monday, May 5, 2025
Female Fun & Subsequently, Overexposure = Heightened Feminine Perception
1. During the middle of April, my experience serving as a board member of a local nonprofit began to wane / languish inside. The nonprofit's local mission was, in concept, exactly what I believed in (& had throughout my four-years of service), but the female Executive Director wasn't leading the org in line with any direction whatsoever from the 10-member Board. Hence, we essentially were her minions / yes-men / women. It was apparent throughout that everyone was perfectly fine with this hierarchy, and I was as well. Until I wasn't.
If you know anything about nonprofits, this is a backassward approach.
But this female would have no part in being swayed from her reigning perch. It was her way or the highway. I blithely chose the highway a few weeks back by resigning from the board.
Friday, May 2, 2025
Thursday, May 1, 2025
Wednesday, April 30, 2025
Recommended Reading
Good Trouble is turning 1… enjoy this throwback… One of the most-read articles of 2024.
David lusted after Bathsheba. Watching her bathe, he wanted her. She was no longer a person; she became an artifact, something to collect. David objectified Bathsheba (2 Sam. 11:2). That's the power of objectification—objectification dehumanizes a person. It robs a person of their dignity, of their worth. People become assets—tools to be wielded or disregarded, depending on our needs and desires. Objectification is the antithesis of the imago Dei. It is important to understand the imago Dei. The whole of human ethics is grounded in the imago Dei, which is why, throughout history, the church has been called to champion people, especially marginalized peoples—the vulnerable, the weak, and the persecuted. The imago Dei promises that all people have an inherent dignity. All people have value, not because of any aspect of their lives or circumstances, but because they bear the image of God. Genesis 1:27 teaches us, "So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." Genesis 1:27 is one of those rare passages that is both descriptive and prescriptive. On the surface, God is describing anyone who has ever been born. Every human being, throughout history, bears the image of God. As CS Lewis said, there are no ordinary people; "There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously—no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner—no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses." Your neighbor. The homeless man on the corner. Your Uber driver. The plumber. Your doctor. Your pastor. The dancer on a stage. They are holy objects because they are created in the image of God. The imago Dei is an appeal to see every human being as Christ does: image bearers of the Most High God. But more than descriptive, Genesis 1:27 is prescriptive. Image-bearing is not just a title—it is a responsibility—it is a calling. It is a call for justice. It is a call to defend the unborn. It is a call to honor and care for the elderly. It is a call to protect and empower women. It is a call to end human trafficking. It's a call to fight racism. It's a call to celebrate and honor your wife. It's a call to train up and care for your children. It's a call to love your enemies. It's a call to visit the prisoner. It's a call to mentor the fatherless. It's a call to feed the hungry. It's a call to clothe the naked. The imago Dei demands action. The imago Dei is active love. It is more than valuing others—it is empowering others. Which is why we need Jesus. King Jesus is the True and Perfect imago Dei, "He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation (Col. 1:15)." As Rachel Chester writes, "Jesus, fully God and fully man, shows us what the image of God really looks like: loving the lost, protecting the vulnerable, and sacrificing for others — even unto death. And, because of Jesus, by the grace of God, we can now walk in newness of life. Through faith in Christ, we are freed from the power of sin and filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, to reflect the image of God, loving and living as Jesus." Led by His Spirit, we image Jesus to everyone, especially the vulnerable. She Had a Dad After seeing Bathsheba, David asks a friend, "Who is that?" Immediately, his friend saw what was happening. Instead of objectifying her with David, he humanizes her, "Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?" (2 Sam. 11:3) Bathsheba is a daughter. She has a dad. And her dad, Eliam, loves her. He saw her take her first steps. He sheepishly used to braid her hair. He worked hard to provide for her and her mother. He was a good man. Bathsheba is a wife. As a little girl, she danced and played and dreamt about her wedding day. And she loves her husband, Uriah. He reminds her of her dad, Eliam. And Uriah loves her. She is his person. She serves him and encourages him in all the right ways. She is his muse. Yet, David hears none of it. The very next verse, "David sent messengers and took her..." (v. 4) David’s objectification dehumanized her. She was not a person; she was a possession. Bathsheba is a collectible. Thus, David "took her..." And he killed her husband, Uriah. One of David's mighty men (2 Sam 23), Uriah, was loyal to David. Strong and brave, Uriah was a man of integrity and character. In an instant, like Bathsheba, Uriah became an object—an immovable object that proved to be a thorn in David's side. So David dispatched him. The same military genius that brought David fame and the Lord glory, David used to kill Uriah. Further proof that when satan has your heart, he'll use your gifts too (2 Sam. 6-27). There are no more people in this story, only a monster and his possessions. Peter Yonker wrote, "Lust dehumanizes the other. In fact, lust needs to dehumanize the other. Lust doesn't work when the other person is fully human. That's why exotic dancers always have fake stage names. You would never have a dancer use her real name. Why not? Because that gets in the way of the objectification that lust needs. A man leering at an exotic dancer doesn't want to know her real name. A great way to empty out these clubs would be to stand up before a dancer was about to come on and say,' This is Sultry Susan, but her real name is Mary Wallinski. She has four brothers and sisters. Her parents divorced when she was 5. Her mother is an alcoholic. She has been married twice; her last husband beat her. She has two kids and is struggling to get by. She likes dogs and would love to be a dental hygienist someday.' That would empty out the room. An introduction like that would short-circuit the lust because it would put intimacy and humanity back into the picture. Lust doesn't want the full humanity of the person, with her needs and her vulnerabilities. Lust wants low lights, a haze of alcohol, and lots of lies." David's desire removed any trace of humanity from the picture. Far from the imago Dei, David just wants to get laid. Everyone became an object in the hands of a lustful king. Stories Mr. Rogers always kept a note in his back pocket. It simply said, "There isn't anyone you couldn't learn to love once you've heard their story..." David refused to hear Bathsheba's story. He had no interest in Uriah's story. David didn't listen to his friend. To him, everyone in the story was story-less. Which meant they weren't real people. David missed the imago Dei, not because he could not see it, but because he would not hear it. He was deaf with selfishness and desire. David wouldn't listen. In the Gospels, Jesus implores us, "Take care then how you hear..." (Luke 8:18). Dr. John Koning says it well, "Consider Jesus and his conversations. He was a listener, par excellence; the true physician of the human soul! How engaged he was. Observe how he listened to others, asking questions in response. He also listened to what was not said. For he was skilled at drawing others out, communicating sympathy. What would Martha, or blind Bartimaeus, or the woman at the well, or the disciples, say about Jesus? He listened. He never merely listened to words, but he listened for attitudes and he listened for the whole range of emotions. Jesus listened in a way that communicated compassion and care, taking the time to understand others." By listening to others, we learn who they are. By listening to others, we bring intimacy and humanity back into the picture. Listening gives life. What prevents us from listening? Four things: Pride: Arrogance is at the root of poor listening. Instead of listening, we think we know everything about the individual, both their person and their situation. We think ourselves brilliant, so we anticipate what someone will say. We rehearse our responses and think ourselves wise when we finish other people's sentences. Interruptions and impatience indicate pride. An impatient listener is not able to recognize and engage the imago Dei. Laziness & Apathy: Listening is hard work. Proper listening requires full attention, focus, and concentration. It's far easier to fixate on ourselves or nothing at all as we nod in agreement, pretending to listen. Few of us excel at listening because we are lazy. Laziness denies the imago Dei Distractions: Today, broadcasting trumps conversation. Thus, we are always plugged in, faces buried in keyboards and screens. Noise-canceling headphones might as well be a people-cancelling device. Our actions and inactions constantly tell those around us that TikTok and email responses are far more valuable than they are. Distractions drown out the imago Dei. We are Not Taught to Listen: Most of us are listening-ignorant. Again, Dr. John is spot on here, "Nobody took me aside and taught me to listen. It's one of the most fundamental skills that a human can master. Yet it's not deliberately taught and it's rarely modelled. There are no courses or electives in schools and universities on this fundamental subject. Ironically, where the mode of learning is by and large through listening, we are not even taught how to do it." Though it is not an excuse, ignorance is real. Ignorance hides the imago Dei. Ears to Hear People are not collectibles. They are not objects. People are not projects. People are not a means to self-satisfaction, self-exaltation, or our altruistic need to think we've done something good in the world. People are people. Created in the image of God, people have worth. People have dignity. Every person you've ever met deserves the benefit of the doubt. They are worthy of love, respect, honor, and encouragement. People have dreams. People have plans. People have problems. People have challenges. People have wounds. People have stories. Lots of stories. We need to listen to their stories. And in doing so, we might learn to love people. Not for what they might do for us. But for who they are. And in loving them, we become like Jesus, not for their sake, but for our own. Lord, give us ears to hear. |
Tuesday, April 29, 2025
Sunday, April 27, 2025
Thursday, April 24, 2025
Wednesday, April 23, 2025
Tuesday, April 22, 2025
Recommended Reading
The genius of Steve Jobs wasn't simply innovation; Jobs' genius lay in the fact that he understood the spirit of the age. It was no accident that Jobs found transcendent success by constructing the iWorld, a world in which everything revolves around the individual. The iMac, iPod, iPad, and iPhone speak directly to our souls.
It was Augustine who said there are two ultimate loves: love of God [or] love of self. Apart from the work of the Holy Spirit, we all inordinately love ourselves. Self is the shape, or misshape, of our hearts. Since the fall, man has been afflicted with a deadly condition, what Augustine [ and later Martin Luther] called being incurvatus in se: being turned in on ourselves. A liturgy of self-centeredness, the English archbishop, William Temple, said it best:
"We make ourselves, in a thousand different ways, the center of the universe. But then our soul is bent over, turned in on itself, separates itself from the source of true life and nourishment, and eventually starves itself of spiritual oxygen, shrivels up, becomes hard, and dies."
Living, breathing, hard, dead souls—precisely what the iWorld produces and feeds.
Good Will Hunting
There is a compelling scene in the movie Good Will Hunting. Will Hunting sits with his therapist, Sean, on a park bench. After belittling and mocking Sean, Sean comes at Will with a more direct approach:
"You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, and you'd probably, uh, throw Shakespeare at me, right? "Once more into the breach, dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help.
And if I asked you about love you probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totallyvulnerable. Known someone could level you with her eyes. Feeling like! God put an angel on earth just for you…who could rescue you from the depths of hell.
And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term 'visiting hours' doesn't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.
I look at you; I don't see an intelligent, confident man; I see a cocky, scared shitless kid."
Will is a genius. He knows something about everything. But he knows nothing. Will's entire life has been one of listening to the record but never hearing it, never living it. Nothing in his life is solid; everything, from his friendships to his romantic life, is disintegrated. Sean tells Will that he [Will] knows nothing about real life, about "real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. Will would have been an iWorld posterchild, he can’t see past himself.
In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis writes about 'solid' people, contrasting them with 'ghosts.' Lewis portrays solid people as the prototype for 'whole' people, what God has always intended us to become. What makes a person whole [solid]? Selflessness.
The ghosts, on the other hand, are selfish; they are shadows because they cannot see past themselves. Lewis depicts heaven as a place where everything is solid and thus painful to the ghosts. A blade of grass penetrates the feet. An apple is as heavy as a bowling ball. Water is solid even as it flows down river. The metaphors point to wholeness and disintegration. Those in heaven are whole, solid, selfless human beings conformed to the likeness of King Jesus. Those in hell are miserable, disintegrated souls, ghosts who have only lived for themselves, and in living for themselves, have lived for small things, shriveling up in the process.
Shadowy Ghosts
Trevin Wax once wrote that we live in a "world designed for ghosts..." A world where we are becoming less solid and more "selfishly shadowy." Wax writes;
"We live in an era tailor-made for superficiality, for ghost-like transparency. Day after day, we scroll through endless updates, follow all the latest political controversies on social media, jump to games on our smartphones, chuckle at sitcoms or the latest TikTok video—never aware that as time goes on, our souls are shrinking... The currents of culture will tug at us until slowly, almost imperceptibly, we lose the capacity to stand in awe of God, to feel the weight of glory, and to encounter profound and eternal truths. Everything is pushing us toward superficiality, toward the banalities of entertainment or the rush of breaking news. There's no cultural push toward wisdom and reflection, toward those activities and practices that would make us more substantial, more solid."
I meet too many young men who are nothing more than ghosts. Men who have never felt the weight of glory. Chestless men. Men who have never lived for anything beyond themselves.
Aimless and purposeless, these men have no idea where they are going. Some are guessing, groping for answers in the dark. Others listen to the loudest [often most profane] voices in culture. Most, though, have simply resigned—buried at 75, but they die at 26. Their soul has become hard and shriveled because nothing they touch is real.
AI is counterfeit wisdom.
Pornography is counterfeit intimacy.
Drugs and alcohol are counterfeit happiness.
Junk and processed foods are counterfeit nutrition.
Social media breeds counterfeit connections.
Online consumption is counterfeit reward and satisfaction.
And the Church is not immune. Men today are looking for a faith that works, something substantive, something beautiful. Yet, often, they find the opposite: something lacking congruency with little pension for 'adventure.' The opening sentence of The Thrill of Orthodoxy rings true: "The church faces her biggest challenge not when new errors start to win but when old truths no longer wow."
Living in a superficial world that no longer 'wows' takes a toll on a man’s soul. Trying to evade the emptiness, men clamor for attention and likes. Yet, at the end of the day, what does it matter how many clicks, downloads, and followers you have if you're just a ghost being followed by other ghosts?
Men of Substance
I want to be a man of substance. A solid man, perhaps solid enough that others can stand on my shoulders. This is not easy. Pursuing solidness and substance means you are constantly swimming against the tide and always going against the grain. Wax again,
"We face headwinds in structuring our lives and conversations toward solidness. What's more, ghosts are perplexed by solid people, unable to understand or articulate what makes them tick or how selfless habits could bring happiness. They recoil at this strange way of life, preferring the trinkets of triviality to heavy gold inherited by the solid people."
At best, solid people are perplexing. At worst, they are bothersome, chaffing those who prefer superficiality and have no sense of wonder and devotion. No doubt solid people are strange, and yet, that is okay. They should be. After all, they are strangers, foreigners living in a foreign land [1 Peter 2]. Solid people are strange people.
So, how does one become solid? More on that to come.