On Confidence

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I sometimes wonder what percentage of the average adult’s insides are occupied by the child version of themselves. On the outside, we appear to be put together, mature, doing just fine, and ready to tackle whatever the day holds. But what part of you is still underprepared, timid, or unsure of what next step is the right next step?

The quality of confidence is a magnetic one to be sure. But if it’s true that many adults walking around today are toting their own childlike version of themselves along with its insecurities, how much of confidence in day-to-day life needs to be feigned in order to operate as a “normal” adult? This is what I’m wondering today.

As I look back on my own life, I can absolutely see a growth path that has afforded me to move more into a place of competence, if not confidence. As a side thought, I think confidence and the concept of being a confident person can have it’s own baggage. There seems to sometimes be a thin line between confidence and cockiness or even outright arrogance. Arrogance is repulsive, while confidence is attractive. So it’s important to be careful about what side of that thin line you are on.

As a spiritual exercise, it’s also important to consider what (if any) role confidence plays in the life of a follower of Jesus. Certainly there are reasons to have confidence, and these are supported with scripture. However, confidence as the world defines it has far less of a place in the heart, mind, and attitude of anyone who claims to follow Jesus.

Is there such a thing as holy, sanctified, or pure confidence? I think there is.

Let’s look at a few examples that tell us exactly where our confidence should be:

  • Proverbs 3:26: “For the Lord will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being caught.”
  • 2 Corinthians 3:4-5: “Such confidence we have through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves…but our competence comes from God.”
  • Isaiah 41:10: “Do not fear, for I am with you…I will strengthen you and help you.”

The flipside of the coin is where we are warned about the places NOT to put confidence:

  • Philippians 3:3-4: “…we who serve God by His Spirit…put no confidence in the flesh–though I myself have reasons for such confidence…”
  • Proverbs 28:26: “Those who trust in themselves are fools…”
  • 1 Corinthians 10:12: “If you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!”

So as you move throughout your day, it’s good to know who you are, what you’re about, what things you’re good (and not so good) at. This helps you function among others in a way that is cooperative and helpful. But be careful not to think that your personality, skills, abilities, and connections are more valuable than another person’s. This is where the line gets crossed. This is where people move into arrogance, and this is where patience and compassion die, and where humilty breathes its last breath.

How to build the right kind of confidence:

  • Begin with a conversation with God each morning. Let Him set the thermostat of your confidence. In Him you are completely loved, accepted, and usable for His glory all throughout your day. So each morning, you get to choose if you’ll be submitted to Him or go it on your own.
  • Be honest in your reflections on the skills you are blessed with. Seek ways to hone them, sharpen them, and exercise them. A dream life might be where you get to only do what you’re good at every day all day, but that’s not reality for 99.99% of us. So look at your hour-by-hour movements as filled with opportunities to not only grow in what you love, but explore and improve in what you’re not quite as good at. Some very qualified people have suggested that you jettison what you’re not good at, and only allow yourself to live in the lane of your own skills. But I think that approach forfeits skill expansion.
  • Exploit any chance you get to share what you know with others, especially those who are behind you on the road you’re on. You’re not the first to do what you do and you won’t be the last. Good stewardship of your confidence means that you must share what you have with those who will be strengthened by it. Take any chance, big or small, to invest your knowledge in people who will likewise steward it well and benefit from it. If you’ve been doing something (anything) for more than 2-3 years, you absolutely have plenty to offer those coming behind you. Be the kind of confident person who doesn’t gatekeep the lessons you’ve learned.

These are just the beginnings of some developing thoughts on confidence that I’ve had recently. I want to invite you to share your experiences with me. Leave a story, a truth, or anything else in the comments that have to do with confidence and the role it plays in our daily lives.

For What It’s Worth…Is It Worth It?

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As you likely know, and if you don’t know I’m telling you now, I’m a guy who’s seeking to follow Jesus. That means that every day my mind, thoughts, mental health, priorities, decisions, views on problems, communication, relationships, and anything else you can think of are what I endeavor to surrender to His Lordship. To “follow” Jesus means that where He’s going I’m going. I don’t direct. I don’t even decide direction. He moves. I move. He stops. I stop. It’s love received and expressed through life in lockstep with the Divine.

As a follower of Jesus, there’s sometimes a blurry line that seems to exist when it comes to what I should tolerate and not tolerate as I dole out love, grace, energy, etc. It’s a tension I live in. On the one hand, I’m called to model Christ in every interaction, conversation, and decision. On the other hand, there are instances where it feels like the energy being spent isn’t being spent wisely. In Matthew 7:6, Jesus warned His followers against “casting pearls before swine (pigs)” and that’s what my mind is grappling with today.

Spoiler Alert: There isn’t a tidy resolution to this at this moment. Maybe I might inch closer to something that looks like a helpful blog post as I process through this while typing, but at this moment (and in this crowded O’Hare Airport I’m currently in), there may not be much headway made. But you’re welcome to join me as I “cerebrally meander” through my current thoughts and my emerging thoughts. But again…no guarantees.

I’m going to start wide. Really wide. I chose to follow Jesus in my teens. Just before my senior year of high school. Shout out to all my fellow alum of Lower Cape May Regional High School. Go Caper Tigers.

When I chose to make that decision to follow Jesus, it came with a wholesale surrender to wherever He’s leading, whatever He’s saying, whoever He’s serving, and whatever He’s doing. I pushed the pile of poo that was life-done-my-way across the table and said to Jesus, “Here. Good luck.” At that moment, I became an investor. Not the Wall Street kind. The eternal kind. God helping me, I’ve been an investor in people ever since. And when I say “people,” I mean whoever. Wherever. Whenever. However. I literally don’t care who you are, what you’ve done, what you look like, what you believe, or any other details of your life. My agreement to follow Jesus WAS SIMULTANEOUSLY an agreement to serve you and everyone.

By the way, fellow follower of Jesus, whether you know it or not, you agreed to the same thing. The apostle Paul calls it our “spiritual act of worship” and essentially tells us it’s the very least we can do. (Read Romans chapter 12 for more.)

So what do you do when you’re investing in something and don’t see the ROI you anticipated? This might seem to some to be an offensive question in the context of Christian living. But let me dig in here and see where it leads. *Remember my non-guarantee.*

I’ve already mentioned Jesus’ words about the pearls and the pigs. So there’s that. Seems clear that He was warning against wasting time and energy; at some point it just becomes counterproductive.

I think we can also point to several instances when Jesus kind of reached a point where He was unwilling to continue to do something, or became exasperated (seemingly), or otherwise continued on His journey having left behind work undone. As a human, Jesus was subject to the same 24 hours in a day that you and I are subject to. Imagine that for a second. The One who created light and dark, day and night being willing to be confined by time and space.

Jesus clearly operated on mission. And living on mission by definition is to live a focused life. So when people or situations arose that hindered that mission, Jesus identified it and moved on. (Remember when Peter would say stuff that would hinder Jesus’ mission and Jesus called him “Satan”?) Yep, it’s clear that Jesus stayed on mission and didn’t let anyone pull Him off course.

I wonder what leeway we have as His followers to do the same? Can we rightly be justified in looking at a relationship or situation and making the calculated decision that any more time and energy spent there is going to be time wasted? That’s hard to type, and difficult to think because it feels awfully close to (or exactly like) the sentiment that there may be some people who simply become “not worth it” in regards to our time and energy. And that feels unloving.

Besides, who are we to assume God’s timing? The same Paul I mentioned earlier also said that “…one plants, another waters, but God gives the increase.” (1 Cor. 3:6) So maybe the ROI isn’t any of my business as an investor. Maybe I just keep investing and leave the rest up to the CIO. (By the way did you know that in an investment firm, the Account Manager is sometimes called a “Relationship Manager”? Man, there’s some good stuff to pull from that! Better save that for another blog post.)

I can tell you without flinching that I have absolutely experienced times in my life when it truly felt like the time and energy being spent simply wasn’t worth it. I don’t mean that the person I was seeking to invest in wasn’t worth it. It just became clear that I was not going to be the one to make headway in any meaningful way. So I decided to simply move on. No malice, nothing but love; I just realized that I was spinning my wheels and it simply felt…well…wasteful.

So the tension I live in is between wanting to never ever stop, never give up as I seek to invest in people…and the very real truth that there’ll always be instances and examples of that feeling that for whatever reason, it just isn’t happening.

As I walk this road following Jesus, I’m promised His own Spirit living within me. And it is by His Spirit that I may discern when its time to go, stop, speak, and shut up. I’m so thankful for that.

Okay, so what are your thoughts on any of this? Comment below and add to the conversation. I’d love to know what you think, even if your thoughts collide with mine. Like I said, this is an ongoing grappling that I’m involved in.

Wouldn’t that be nice…but how?

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You’ve heard the old expression, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

How that saying ever even came into existence is the stuff of nightmares, I’m sure of it. Even with my widely-known disdain for felines, I still shudder to think about why in the world someone would skin a cat, let alone conjure up multiple ways to get the job done. It’s just one of the weirdest, yet unquestioned expressions we humans seem to be okay with.

But therein lies an important issue: It’s the issue of “How?” Let’s think about that for a second. (Not the cat part, just in general.)

No matter who you are, there’s a thing you want to do, or become, or accomplish, or a place you want to get to physically, or socially, or financially, or spiritually. If you don’t get the How into a chokehold and wrestle it into submission, then whatever that aspiration is will certainly remain just that: an aspiration.

When we get into the details of How, we begin to lay out what steps are needed in order to move from here to there. It’s intimidating at first, but only at first — once you begin to lay it out, it quickly begins to feel less like an ogre and more like an opportunity.

Where have you found the How to be a daunting barrier, and how have you tackled it bit-by-bit in order to shrink it down to size?

Here are some “what’s” that are currently a part of my life that have been (or need to be) given “how’s” in order to see progress:

  • Replacing/updating a broken door handle on our front door (and repainting the door while we’re at it).
  • Strengthening (ongoingly) my vocabulary and understanding of systematic theology.
  • Losing an average of 1 lb. per month over the span of 2026.
  • Increasing and improving my blog posting rhythm.
  • Budgeting finances in order to reinforce strong habits, avoid debt, and bless others.
  • Establishing a cadence of grandchild interaction so that we are a regular part of her life (with more to come).

I’d love to hear about your How’s and what you’re learned along the journey of skinning cats.

The Truth About Trolls

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Ever since the Garden of Eden, “trolls” have existed. I’d contend that the serpent was the first troll. He came along throwing shade, disparaging what had been posted, and questioning established truth. Yup, the first troll ever was Satan himself, and I’m convinced he still lives in the comment section.

There was recently posted an event on our church’s Facebook page. It was a promo for an upcoming marriage/relationship weekend event called “Through Thick & Thin.” Not propaganda. Not political. Not even religious. Just an event for people to come to in order to have some good fellowship, interact with others about healthy relationships, and have a great time.

Not long after posting it, this comment appeared…

(I’ve removed their name and avatar. It’s inconsequential.)

Like anyone would, I raised my eyebrows and first thought, “Hmmm. Okay.” Clearly this person has an opinion about religion.

My second thought was, “I don’t 100% disagree with this comment, albeit a bit crass.” After all, religion itself hasn’t ever been the answer to the world’s ills. And those who say religions have caused a terrible amount of pain rightfully point to things like 9/11. Or the Crusades. These and other historical events are atrocities done in the name of “religion.” So while I don’t think the comment is intelligent, articulate, or appropriate, I can understand the viewpoint.

My third thought was “I bet this person isn’t even a person. It’s likely some bot that just trolls anywhere and everywhere. Easily dismissed.”

My fourth thought was, “If this person does in fact exist, I’m sorry they felt the need to comment the way they did. And I’m sorry for whatever has happened in their life that brought them to have such vitriol. I think I’ll pray for them.” And I did.

As for my fifth thought, I’ll confess to you that I gave in to temptation to actually go and visit their Facebook page. There, I found this person, based on their photos, to be an Al Roker doppleganger (if Al Roker were hooked on meth), who mostly re-posts unoriginal videos having either to do with political views or anti-Christian sentiments. In fairness, I didn’t scroll very far on their page. I kind of got the jist of their angst and got outta there. In summation and based on what I did see, I would say that they are the type of atheist I’d categorize as an “angry atheist.” I know atheists who are benign, passive, and quiet; simply living their non-believing life with no ax to grind. I got nothing but respect for anyone’s choice to believe whatever they feel the evidence and their convictions drive them to.

But angry atheists come from a different type of background, I’ve found. They’re usually jaded because of some past hurt perpetrated on them (whether real or imagined) by someone who either claimed to believe in God and/or follow Jesus and yet hurt or let them down in some way, usually catastrophically. Abuse (actual or alleged) isn’t uncommon as a part of the angry atheist’s history. I certainly know that’s not true of all atheists, or all angry atheists for that matter. But it’s too common to ignore, in my opinion.

Here’s my nutshell take on atheism: It’s far more societal, social, and relationally based than it is intellectually, logically, and evidence based. Anyone who views the known physical universe and comes to the conclusion that there is no design or intentionality to it is, in my opinion, choosing to ignore facts that glaringly point out obvious patterns, symmetry, and intelligent design. This is not at all a religous statement. I’m saying nothing about the God of the Bible. I’m simply saying that what we see all around us on this earth and in our own little corner of the galaxy drips with the evidence of a creator being behind and the cause of the creation.

Let’s tackle the issue of religion, then. As stated, while I do not fully agree with the commenter’s unclassy comment, I can see how someone who’s been hurt would hold all relgious expression in contempt. I’m sorry for it, but I get it.

What I really desire(d) to say to the commenter, which I’m sure would be like trying to hug a brick wall was, “If you’d come sit with me, have some lunch, talk about your story, listen to mine, and even be willing to meet some other followers of Jesus that I know, I’m sure you’d have your perspective tweaked at least a little bit, if not outright dismantled.”

You see, none of us who claim to be followers of Jesus would dare say that we are perfected or that we are better than or above anyone else. Further, I have yet to meet the follower of Jesus who labels themselves as “religious” or even a lover of religion. Quite the contrary. It is the love of God shown to humanity through Jesus’ birth, life, teachings, healings, truth-telling, death, and resurrection that drive His followers to stoop down and wash feet. Both proverbially, socially, and literally. When we fail to take up our cross, we fail to reflect Jesus as He truly is. And when we do not reflect the real Jesus, the world simply labels us as religious and we are tossed onto the dung heap of all other religiosity, with all of its baggage.

So, Mr. (or Mrs.) Commenter/Troll, I wish that I could have the chance to wash your troll-y feet. After all, I know it’s what Jesus and those who know, love, and follow Him would take the time to do. In the meantime, know that we too have a side-eye for “religion.” We simply choose to apply our energies not to pushing others down, but pointing everyone to Jesus.

Rabbit Trails.

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I was just messaging my Dad, and he was asking what I was doing today. He knows it’s my day off, so on Fridays, it’s anyone’s guess as to what I might find myself doing; at least in the morning before my wife gets off work at noon and all my attention moves to her.

I said, “I’m headed to grab some coffee and do some writing.” I followed that quickly with, “but I’ve currently got too many rabbit trails in my head.”

It’s true. While driving my son to work earlier this morning, I was daydreaming about enjoying some hot coffee at a local coffee shop and opening up my laptop in order to pound out a long-overdue (as if there’s a schedule to this thing. You know better than that) blog post.

But the plight is one you might be well familiar with. It seems that lately every cage in the zoo of my mind has been unlatched, and every thought has been permitted to run rampant. I’m mentally wrestling with a slippery eel in one hand and a wily ostrich neck in the other. Zeroing in on a focused thought seems like organizing meerkats.

So in an effort to bring some semblance of order here, I’d like to–one by one–wrangle up some thoughts, updates, queries, and ideas. You, my reader, are the lucky one who gets to ride shotgun on this safari jeep I’m driving.

I’ll start with the most glorious, wonderful, bliss-filled news of all. On January 20, 2026, my wife and I were catapulted into grandparenthood with the arrival of Bailey, our first grandchild! The long-awaited arrival of this new human did not disappoint–as we got to hold her at just hours old, we began to have a sense of some new kind of love we haven’t had the opportunity to have. It’s a love that amplifies the love we already had for our daughter, because now we share parenthood in common with her, and we also are recipients of a wonderful opportunity to have a place in our granddaughter’s life. It isn’t that we begin parenting again–no, no. We’ve done that. It’s that we are now in an incredible and enviable position of standing by and absorbing the joy of watching our child parent their child.

Next up on our corraling mission is something that might seem a little on the esoteric side. I’ll do my best to broaden this enough for anyone to grab hold of it, but there are pieces of this I’m sharing from a pastoral point of view. File this under “behind the veil”, perhaps. I’m not one to shy away from sharing even thoughts that are unformed or perhaps even eventually embarrassing. It’s the road I’ve chosen when writing on this blog. You’re going to get authenticity, if nothing else.

The best way to share from this pastor’s heart is to share a case study of sorts from my night last night. I was lying in bed enjoying some much-needed sleep when at 3:07 a.m. I woke up. I remember the time distinctly because I grew up at 307 Townbank Road in North Cape May, NJ. I was awake at that point briefly before dozing back to sleep. Then at 4:20 a.m. I woke again; this time for much longer. (No, I do not have the relationship some people do with 4:20.) As I lay there, I was ping-ponged by about 6 or 7 different situations in my life. My mind was thrashing around about a variety of to-dos, what-ifs, and did-I-forget-to’s. In the midst of it all, I entertained thoughts of ministry validation, emotional investments, relational missteps, and a gamut of not-entirely-helpful ponderings. It was bedlam in my brain.

I decided, as I sometimes do, to evolve my worrying and wondering into worshiping. Before you get impressed, let me finish. I turned my attention to Jesus and what I imagine Him to look like. He’s my best friend, my Savior, and my professed Lord. I started in on a chat with Him about how I was feeling, what I’ve been doing (as if He doesn’t know it better than I do), and the thoughts that had occupied my mind and heart. I’ll confess to you that at first I didn’t do too well on the listening part of prayer. I just kind of brain-dumped on Him. Before I even got to the listening part, my brain then wandered off, back into the thoughts that had swirled and bounced around on the inside of my cranium, like the numbered balls in the Powerball lottery machine.

Catching myself, I snapped back to attention on Jesus and had another go at a conversation with Him. “Lord, I love you. Teach me how to love you better. I know I’ve got lots of room to grow in that area…”

Then my mind again trailed off into some concern for the young people I’ve invested in over recent months and years. I often concern myself about their well-being; mentally, emotionally, socially, and mostly spiritually. I began to think about how it seems like other pastors have it together, but I don’t. Like others seem to know what to do and how, and when. I began to fall into the wasteful train of thought that others have what I don’t, and even if I could know what they know, I wouldn’t be able to execute like they do. In a word, it was sheer insecurity. Stupid, wasteful, untrue insecurity. I’m embarrassed that I fell for it.

Do you ever think like that? Another lie (that I know is a lie) is that I’m the only one who thinks like I do. The enemy tries to convince me of that so that I’ll feel disconnected from any sense of commisseration with others. Make no mistake: I know that the enemy’s #1 weapon in any battle is isolation. If he can get me feeling isolated, or lonely, or unrelatable, or exiled in any way then most of the battle is won. Do you ever fall into the trap of thinking that you’re alone in the struggles you have, whether they’re mental, social, emotional, relational, physical, financial, or spiritual?

Then, as I snapped back once again to Jesus’ face, I was instantly reminded of the peace-filled companionship and compassion He has on an ongoing basis for my benefit. No matter how many times my frail mind trails off down whatever rabbit trail, He is patient with me, welcoming me back again and again and again and again. Oh, the depth of love He has for me and for you, despite our distractedness, our flimsy affections, and our propensity for nonsense.

Another rabbit trail was/is our younger daughter, who lives much further away than our oldest daughter (the mom to our new granddaughter). She is pregnant with our second grandchild and our first grandson, due in May! So naturally, I’m often thinking of her, her wonderful firefighter hubby*, and how that little unborn guy is doing. (*Btw, that house on fire over there held our son-in-law as he helped extinguish that raging inferno a couple of days ago.)

I’m envious of families who all live near one another so that grandparents have frequent interaction with grandchildren. I was reading an article recently about the mental and physical health benefits that grandparents enjoy from having interaction with their grandchildren, and even the benefits on a child’s development when their grandparents are in their life. It’s a classic case of a “win-win” situation. I like to daydream about being the kind of grandpa that is always within arm’s reach, always ready to hang out, always ready to grab an ice cream cone, always ready with a listening ear, always ready to buy up the opportunities that I may have missed the first go-around.

Yet another rabbit trail is an upcoming event I’m overseeing at our church. It’s a marriage and relationship-focused event called “Through Thick & Thin,” and we’re welcoming Lamorris & Megan Crawford, who co-host the Covenant Culture Podcast. They’ll be with us in a couple of weeks, and I’m spearheading all the details of that weekend. So naturally, my mind continually spins about all that needs to be done to make that a memorable, productive, and quality experience for all involved.

Another rabbit trail I’m chasing is the complete overhaul and reshaping of the disciplemaking culture of our local church. As Director of Discipleship, I’ve been entrenched for months now in every granular detail of anything and everything we as a local church are doing (or should be doing) to make disciples, which is the one thing Jesus gave us to do. The journey has been equal parts terrifying and gratifying. It is not grandiose or machismo to say that through these efforts, following God’s lead, we are literally shifting the complexion of what we do, how we do it, and most importantly, WHY we do it.

When you are seeking to shift culture–any culture–there’s bound to be a sense of gravitas that comes along with that. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t personally feel like that is on my shoulders alone. I’d be a fool to think that were even possible. But I do feel a deep sense of responsibility to carefully steward the role I’ve been given and the tasks that come along with it, all while maintaining a lockstep with God’s Holy Spirit. I continually have as my personal mantra: “Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” (Psalm 127:1)

There then in my bed, with all these thoughts (and more) making their rounds in my skull like motorbikes in the “Sphere of Death,” I again turned my heart and attention to Jesus.

“Lord, you see all that I’m thinking. You know all that I need. Where I see question marks, you see exclamation points. You are so far above these situations, and yet intimately involved in every detail of all of it. And I know you care about me and my family far more than I care about any of these details. Thank you for being with me, and thank you for being trustworthy. Amen.”

And with that, I surrendered all the rabbit trails, all their outcomes, all the unanswered questions, all the “what-ifs”, and all the thoughts that would continue to keep me awake.

When I awoke again, it was time to get up and start the day. And more notably, it was from the deep kind of sleep that comes from resting completely in the goodness of God. No matter what rabbit trails you’re chasing today, or what thoughts are uncaged in your heart and mind today, I hope for you the peace that goes beyond all understanding–the kind that can only be found in the loving gaze of Jesus Himself.

Here’s Where The Story Ends

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It’s incredible how a sound can release a flood of memories in your brain isn’t it? The same goes for smells. One whiff of cornbread, and I’m instantly back at Belfast Elementary School in Goldsboro, NC in that small yet somehow cavernous cafeteria, surrounded by all those children in a flurry of noise of shuffling sneakers and southern cooking smells. A twinge of anxiety begins to well up when I think about the conveyer belt that every child’s lunch tray was on, in order to keep the line moving. I was always afraid that somehow my tray would get away from me and I’d be lunchless, and worse yet–miss out on that cornbread, who’s smell triggered this memory in the first place.

The sounds I heard this morning were none other than The Sunday’s “Here’s Where The Story Ends”. Released in 1990, I’d admit–at least as I recal it–the song didn’t really hit my radar until I was in college the next year. I bet you’ve heard it. If not, give it a listen.

The song is reflective of a life that hasn’t quite turned out as expected. It’s a bittersweet song about disappointment, disillusionment, and the sense of feeling stuck. But it’s not a song that feels like a dead end, either. It strangely translates to a song of hope, as a chapter (albeit dim) is closed so that a new chapter might begin. And therein lies the thing I want to chat about with you this time.

The song resonated with that early 90’s crowd of young people much like it might today because the human experience is universal in that way. It’s relatable anytime there’s a sense (or need) of 1) letting go, 2) transition, 3) feeling a bit lost in young adulthood, 4) relational struggles, or 5) coming to grips with plans that didn’t materialize how we had hoped.

In case I haven’t said it clearly in the past, I’m a pastor. Specifically, I’m a pastor to young adults. The 18-30 year old age range is my daily existence. I’m striving continually to be a 50+ year old who lives a life of love, support, encouragement, empowerment, coaching, and doling of sherpa-like direction and wisdom to the younger generation. So yeah, that’s me. Hi. Nice to meet you.

As I was driving along on this morning’s commute, the radio DJs were discussing the top 3 topics to avoid at Thanksgiving this year. In first place was the one probably easiest to guess, given our current cultural climate: politics. Politics are the #1 thing to NOT talk about with family and friends this Thanksgiving season. Wanna guess #2? Go ahead. Guess.

It’s money. Don’t talk money and who’s making what this Thanksgiving. When I heard that, I was like “Who does that?” But if you show up to the parent’s house in that new car, or the spread is extravagant, or cousin Craig comes struts in ensconced in cashmere, or geez…I don’t know…what would trigger someone to talk about money in a way that’s offensive or troublemaking? Anyway, don’t do it. Money’s #2.

The third topic on the list of what not to talk about this Thanksgiving? You’ll never guess. It’s weight. What in the world? Who conducted this research? Who’s talking about weight on a day where we’re all trading forks for shovels? It’s national Elastic Waistband Day, for crying out loud. I can’t imagine a universe where a family sits down to collective swallow a metric ton of bird, sauces, and sugar when someone pipes up with, “Hey Laura, you lookin’ like you carrying a little extra this year. What’s up with that?”

So to recap the three things NOT to talk about this Thanksgiving…3rd: Weight, 2nd: Money, and 1st: Politics. Everybody clear on that? Okay good. Go forth and enjoy this special holiday, free from drama and trauma from bringing up those restricted topics.

But you wanna know what is missing from the top 3 things to not talk about? It’s something that’s historically been well established as something to not talk about. If you’re 40 or older, I bet you know what it is. You ready for the reveal? It’s “religion.”

Why is it signficant that it didn’t make the top 3 this year? Well because quite honestly, through other research, we know that our culture today is far more open to discuss spiritual matters than perhaps it ever has been. It’s one of the reasons I am, perhaps now more than ever, committed to engaging with and encouraging this young generation in conversations of faith. I’ve said it approximately a million-bazillion times over the years: who you are spiritually is who you are period. So when we get to the level of spiritual conversation, we’re getting as real as humans can get.

So I offer to you some questions that might stoke some good, quality, deeper, helpful, healthy conversations; not so much about “religion”, but moreso about faith, life, purpose, who God actually is, and what He’s actually like.

  • What’s something from this past year that has made you quietly grateful?
  • When you think back on your life, who helped shape your faith the most?
  • What’s a tradition—faith-related or not—that you still love and why?
  • What’s a truth or verse that’s encouraged you this season?
  • Where have you seen God at work in someone else’s life this year?
  • What’s something you’ve learned about yourself or about God recently?
  • What’s one thing you’re grateful for that you didn’t expect at the start of the year?


Who knows? Maybe through some good conversation around that stuffed bird this November, we might start a whole new story in our families and among our friends? Maybe in the years to come, the smell of cornbread and stuffing might trigger that one Thanksgiving where talking about faith and a more redemptive way became the new norm for us.

Death Becomes Us

/ jerrythinks / Leave a comment

I was just driving along with my youngest son down a winding road lined with woods on either side, and said, “I’m so glad we live in a place where we get to see the colors of changing leaves during the fall season.” It’s nature doing what nature does. I really do love the transformation that death brings us. It’s inescapable: death is beautiful. Each leaf you see falling to the ground is a seconds-long funeral service you’re witnessing as it passes from one reality to another.

The varied and vibrant colors of the leaves are brought about by the decrease and eventual shut-off of chlorophyll, the thing that makes leaves green through photosynthesis (the feeding process of trees and plants). As temperatures drop, the tree is actually cutting off water and nutrients to its leaves in preparation for going into the non-food-producing season. That’s when the other chemicals present in the leaf, like carotenoids, anthocyanins, and tannins, get to show their colors–the yellows, the shades of orange, the purples, the reds, and all the variations of those colors, albeit for a brief but brilliant display.

At the base of each leaf, the tree actually seals itself shut, and the leaf eventually browns, oranges, purples, and yellows…and falls away. That’s when we get to see the cascading leaves making their final journey to the ground below.

It’s all breathtakingly beautiful. As we revel in it with our pumpkin spiced whatevers, and our chunky sweaters, and our wool socks, and our folksy acoustic music playlists that create just the right vibe, it’s actually death that we’re revelling in.

I was reading in the scriptures this morning, and I was reminded of the beauty of death in Paul’s words to the church in Galatia in the first century: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Gal. 2:20)

In other words, Paul has declared his own death. His own cutting off of that system that would feed his flesh and usher in the transformation into beautiful and vibrant color for the remainder of this brief period of time called life. In a very real sense, as we watch those leaves falling around us, we are watching a wonderful symbolism of a life born into Christ, the accompanying death to self that must happen, and the transformation from death to glory that losing ourselves in Christ brings about.

May we join those leaves in their vibrant death. May we consider ourselves as dead to ourselves and alive only to Christ, finding our beauty, purpose, and life in Christ alone. May our lives be a brilliant display of grace as we make the slow, wind-swept journey homeward.