Tag: Jesus

The Beatitude of Gratitude

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What is the state of being grateful?

Gratitude isn’t just whimsical optimism, a warming mindset, pretending, or a forced smile in the rear-view mirror; it’s the ultimate way we align ourselves with God and approach our problems. To be thankful, in a sense, is to transact with the Father where we exchange our grievances and offenses for peace, praise, and declarations of His goodness; hence, why a daily dose of Psalms can be such a powerful unlock for the believer. Life may be hard, but glory hallelujah, God is on the throne! I’m stuck in the muck, I’m down and struggling to get up. But bless the Lord, oh my soul, all things are possible through Him.

This notion ties into one of the great beauties of thanksgiving in that it’s one of the quickest positive decisions you can ever make. All you have to do is align your heart, open your mouth, and give the Spirit access to elevate those points of gratitude within you.

I’m reminded of one of Tony Robbins’ quotes on the subject:

“When you are grateful, fear disappears, and abundance appears.”

Just let that sink in a little. You may feel you’re running on empty with no margin to give or receive. You may be overwhelmed by the voids in your life. Yet, when you choose to give thanks, you’re instantly eroding fear and creating room for the transcendental to fill in the gaps.

For some of us, this time of year begins a brutal five-week stretch as we reacquaint ourselves with what’s missing in life. While we can’t change the past and undo the losses, we can change the way we relate to our losses, the person we’re becoming in Christ. And for this I am infinitely grateful.

In closing, I encourage you to consider Colossians 3:17 (MSG) and Hebrews 12:28 (MSG) and the ways they relate to each other.

“Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. Give it plenty of room in your lives. Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way.” ~ Colossians 3:17

“Do you see what we’ve got? An unshakable kingdom! And do you see how thankful we must be? Not only thankful, but brimming with worship, deeply reverent before God. For God is not an indifferent bystander. He’s actively cleaning house, torching all that needs to burn, and he won’t quit until it’s all cleansed. God himself is Fire!” ~ Hebrews 12:28

May the truth of God’s love mark your homes and families as we relish Thanksgiving and embark on a new Advent season.

#Selah

Cover graphic creds: Freepik

Like a Good Neighbor

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Written 11/09/2025

It’s a crisp autumn night as I overlook a neighborhood that, at the moment, resembles a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I guess that’s what happens when severe weather strikes during peak foliage season. Rivers of color up ahead and flowing on sideroads across the subdivision. A bizarre spectacle as I pen these thoughts.

To be honest, I’m not okay right now. When a neighbor whose dog viciously attacked one of my boys last February cusses out my older two for cleaning up debris 15-20 yards from his property and demands I “move the f***” away”, how can you not be jolted? Dude, your dog almost killed my son. We relocated ours for healing and trauma counseling. The dust has settled. Move on. We have no intention to invade. Let life happen. Don’t curse my kids.

Of course, I keep the struggle internal and swiftly comply. But deep down, I’m livid. Just 15 hours prior, I had pulled over in my in-laws’ subdivision to ride out a storm, hazards flaring, my upper half documenting. For the first 10 minutes, everything is fine, my awe struck at the scene of one of the most impressive, hail-laden downpours I’ve ever seen.

That’s when an older gentleman with an umbrella walks out to my passenger door. Instead of asking if I was okay, he stoops down and yells, “What the hell are you doing?” Without any official storm-chasing designation, I stumble into my explanation, though emphasizing my place on public property. “What is your reason for being here? Is there somewhere else you can go?” Annoyed at the mere existence of this exchange, I conclude with a defiant, “Absolutely!” I turn the key and drive away, a tough shrug-n-go at first, but digestible upon realizing the man lives in literal darkness every night. Lord knows the reason behind such crabby cantankerousness. Honestly, I should feel bad for the man.

Fast-forward to this morning and I’m feeling it in the wake of another brutal interlude. That piece of you that prefers some faith in humanity, it’s fading with the wind knocked out. Discouraged, I return to my pile of downed limbs and trampoline shrapnel. That’s when something remarkable happens. Only 15 minutes later, a stranger in a tan pickup pulls up to my driveway and asks if I need any help. Surprised, yet amused at the poetic symmetry of the moment, I welcome the assistance and process the intel. After recently moving from the upper Midwest, this younger gentleman, who wore the part through his swagger and 220-lb frame, confessed how he had been jonesing for a situation like this in which he could contribute mass relief. For the next 20 minutes, we hauled a healthy load, even swung on some stubborn maple and oak limbs, loosening them before their saw-off. Caeden as my witness, we had a grand time. Such serendipity, you couldn’t have timed it better.

As my new neighbor drove off, I couldn’t help but yearn for a healthy calibration of what I’d just experienced. A few years into our move, Lys and I took a similar approach to our neighbors around the holidays. We were intentional in our giving, made efforts to share goodness, especially in our December dealings; however, post-COVID/post-Juju, we started to slack off a bit, more cynical and protective in light of stranger times. Sometimes, you wish you could just go back before the drama and find a way to bypass it. Just one tweak there, and the whole trajectory changes. Less mess and way less fallout.

But sometimes, all you have to do is consider the script you wish was imminent without the mulligan and pray into the next steps. For me, the truth is, the type of gusto I show during planned storm chases and disaster relief meetings— when I set out not only to track nature’s worst but also to help people in the path — should not be confined to the planned, but even more so, the unplanned. After all, random acts of kindness aren’t just for outreach-friendly entities. They are for every man on call for any situation. ‘Tis the silver lining any time chaos and crisis come knocking at our door and/or the one next door.

So as I bid this day adieu, I’m taking in the daily narrative. Like a heartening State Farm ad, not only is my faith in ‘good neighbor’ restored, but my hope in being the type of person I want to be more consistently.

I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: The Lord knows exactly what we need, when we need it; hence, why we must adhere to the hope of glory we carry within so we can spark it within spontaneous generosity. We got this! Together, we will get there.

Selah.

Graphic cover creds: Dreamstime

Dancing in the Pain: The Secret to Trusting God in the Storm (Intro)

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Quick post today – archiving some thoughts for future reference per a recent conversation at work. My plan will be to build a series off this concept in 2026…

There are times in life when ‘yes’ is and will be the right answer. You may not understand the full ‘why’; the logic may trail the intuition. But obedience as goal, we will ultimately encounter moments when reason must yield to faith. Sometimes, it’s as simple as seasoned patience, waiting for an open door to illuminate the path we’re meant to walk. Other times, it’s like guided flight within cloudy turbulence, watching God correct the trajectory as we cling to Him. Either way, God has a plan, a purpose, and a promise behind the places He takes us (Proverbs 16:9, Psalm 37:23-24, Jeremiah 29:11, Ephesians 2:10).

As for the effect of these places, we must expect variability. At any point, we always have the capacity to learn and grow from something for something. To breathe is to absorb. To absorb is to process. And how we process, in most cases, inclines critical choices from trusting God in the midst of challenging circumstances to those micro-moments every day when we must decrease.

So, what then when these impacts net negative on paper and in person? What if the only meaningful consequences are confined to scars and sagacities fortified in fire? For most, if they can’t carry a positive tangible forward, then they write off the exiting season as a failure. ‘Tis a mentality of the world and wisdom of the flesh.

Yet, in truth, in the Word, and every place that matters, the reality is you can’t quantify growth in motion or scale the ripple effect a fallen face turned hopeful can produce. When lessons learned become fastened to the soul, when they click, find momentum, and plant themselves as fertile seeds, what you have is a vital, appreciable asset – one of the most important of all! Some might call it ‘addition by subtraction’ character-building or by a ‘one step back, two steps forward’ platitude. But those wouldn’t serve due justice, let alone what is full in the Lord’s eyes.

Again, you can’t measure or compute the long-term influence humility has in the wake of voids and failures. Do you have much to learn, much to apply, but have subdued the urge to stay where you’ve fallen? If so, rejoice! Shake the dust off your feet and rejoice again.

My friends, we must not undermine the virtue of endurance as God intended. Forgive the versions of yourself that didn’t know better, that didn’t have the support you needed, that lacked the safe space. After all, you can’t move on if you don’t love on and you can’t love on if you’re committed to a hardened state. Remember what you crave, God already is. So…

Don’t just get up, look up. Don’t just sing in the rain; dance in the pain. Why? Because Christ in you, you can count it all joy because who you’re becoming is far more significant than where you’ve been.

Together we will get there, one more cry and one less ‘why’ at a time.

Cover graphic creds: Harvest City Church

Fall Forward: A Posture for This Season

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It’s been a weird month. One of those in which much could be said but…

For Lys and I, we’re exiting a pronounced stretch of remembrance. By now, each year feels more like clockwork with a grief uptick during the dog days only to lift by the fall equinox. Even now, I sense the heaviness dissipating. Lord knows He’s given me and my family plenty of reason to keep going.

Yet, taking a corporate temperature, I can’t help but wonder if our present peace is set to stun mode. Restless nights have picked up for some, for others, the fatigue of the unknown (i.e. what to do next, how to respond now, etc.). Of course, there are those, who may be weary with their former toil. Probably a combination of ‘all of the above’, if we’re perfectly honest.

I know for me, there’s been much I’ve needed to release of late – the weight of carrying past positives into the present, the hope of connection and reconciliation in certain situations, the right for my right calls to be seen. Sometimes, it’s hard to make sense of the burdens we desperately want to flush out. Thankfully, as complex as our knots may be, the opportunity to surrender them is anything but.

Take last Tuesday for instance. Sitting on my front step, I started to go down a familiar rabbit hole, the one in which I try to make sense of where I’ve been and where I’m going. But unlike other episodes, I hit a point of exhale earlier in the process. Maybe it was the lower humidity and refreshing air mass. Perhaps I was giddy from just setting up some fall decor. Either way, I looked down the street from my porch on a hill and with what seemed like misplaced contentment, started to empty myself in the moment.

Then, after a few minutes, something bizarre happened: I began to shiver…in 75 degrees, calm winds, and a setting sun to my right. Suddenly, I needed a second layer and a flip to 1 Corinthians 2. With disrupted thermodynamics, I dug in.

In his letter, Paul confirms his posture in v. 2-3 (AMP):

“I made the decision to know nothing [to forego philosophical or theological discussions regarding inconsequential things and opinions while] among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified [and the meaning of His redemptive, substitutionary death and His resurrection]. I came to you in weakness, fear, and great trembling. And my message…[was] not in persuasive words of clever rhetoric but delivered in demonstration of the Spirit operating through me and of His power stirring the minds…so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.”

Relating and resonating, I kept on.

“For what person knows the thoughts and motives of a man except the man’s spirit within him? So also no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know and understand the wonderful things freely given to us by God. We also speak of these things, not in words taught or supplied by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining and interpreting spiritual thoughts with spiritual words for those being guided by the Holy Spirit” (v. 11-13, AMP).

Now, I’m not the savviest theologian; however, I’m confident when in doubt, in trouble, and/or in pain, the best response is to invite God in by making room for the Cross. In doing this, we position ourselves to be overwhelmed by the power of the Spirit, a move we cannot conjure or manufacture. Far too often, we’re consumed by our own capacities when we must remember there’s no capacity for what matters without the Spirit. We may crave daily bread, but we cannot receive it without pure vertical reliance in which we declare our substitutions, replacing worldly guesses and opinions with God’s Word. Every day, we must be mindful of the exchanges we’re called to make, especially if we long to process through clear channels; hence, why this chapter is so enriching. By God’s Spirit, the depth we were designed with has access, not just a channel but an invitation to know what He’s thinking, at least bits and pieces.

My encouragement to you, friends: Let the Spirit bridge the Cross’ wake to your present circumstances and fall forward. As challenging as your immediate may be, simplicity can still be found in moments of surrender. For in the power of God’s Spirit, we can know Christ and Christ crucified more intimately as we breathe, live, move, and have our being (Acts 17:28). The more we mature in this mindset, the more we will experience this as a sweet reality from our personal walks to corporate communions.

As for what keeps us from standing together, praying with/for one another, and sharing with one another, may we be willing to put them all on the altar as we lay down our dreams, agendas, weapons, all the way down to our revisionist fantasies. In all that we do, may we embrace and rediscover the joy of holy dependency.

After all, a new season dawns. May it be one in which we let go and let God all the more.

Graphic creds: Shutterstock

Road to Healing: Why Even in Pain, There’s Still Jubilee

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It’s been three years to the day since Juju’s death.

For better and worse, Lys and I haven’t been the same since that fateful day. While grief intensity has lessened, life still feels like a tightrope. One false step and we’re praying for a safety net, just trying to survive – like when Juju was alive only without the hope of tomorrow. If only I were better at patience, maybe this whole waiting thing would be easier.

As Juju proved during her NICU tenure, progression and regression aren’t always mutually exclusive. At times within her fragile body, one element was improving while another was degrading. Her recovery and, at times, lack thereof, was anything but a linear wave. Like life itself, her journey was a winding roller coaster with unexpected turns and unprecedented breakthroughs. Her butterfly tattoo on my heart, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her and consider the glory of what she constantly experiences.

Yet, though the tears have remained mostly at bay the past year, there’s still a temptation to anger. God, why didn’t you somehow, someway cap her suffering? If you knew she was going to barely make it past a year, why defer the inevitable?

In most cases, I can convert those ‘whys’ into ‘look what God did’ and carry on. Where I stumble is the next level down: God, why aren’t people more naturally geared towards the broken-hearted? Why does the silence sometimes increase when it needs to decrease? In the shadows, you were there after Juju’s death. What about those who may not even be able to find you at all? What about them?

These questions have been raised before, and they’ll be raised again. Until the answers come, I, along with the rest of us, must settle in Christ (1 Peter 5:10; Colossians 2:6-7). For those who have lost a child, we don’t have any other option. At day’s end, everyone has a call to embrace their suffering and ditch their baggage. No exceptions. I know for me, sometimes I get into trouble tolerating the baggage while trying to ditch the suffering in a quest to find meaning in pain; however, in times of reset, I catch myself in the striving and commit my ways to God whether I feel like it. It’s hard as heck, don’t get me wrong. I just know as low as I feel sometimes, I’m only hindering my perspective when I punt prayer and vertical reliance.

I love how Paul opens Colossians 3:1: “Therefore if you have been raised with Christ, keep seeking the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.”

For starters, the chapter unpacks our ‘new self’ identity as a garment we can wear regardless of the day. But even more promising, we’re reminded in the intro how we’ve been raised with Christ to a new life, sharing in His resurrection from the dead. In a weird way, this hits home even more so these days. Even when I feel dead on the inside, somehow, I know I’m that much closer to the type of life I crave. Among all the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God is also my daughter. Your son. His grandson. Her granddaughter. Their mother, their father, our friend, etc.

The way God’s lap is designed, there is always a comfort and rest to draw from, even if it’s simply His presence and nothing more.

The problem is we’re not often content with the safety of God’s nearness because we’re dissatisfied with the security of it. Our kid passed away, so we doubt if God is who says He is. If God is a God of love, then why didn’t His sovereignty meet my faith in the middle? If God has the capability, why didn’t His power take pity on a soul that could have done wonders for Him if given the opportunity?

While I’m not condoning this as the correct posture to take, admittingly, this is a popular contention bereaved parents wrestle through. We desire the improbable; we believe in the impossible. We just wish it could have looked a certain way. And that’s okay…assuming we regularly surrender our grief, anxiety, fear, and anger. As Juju reminds us, there’s beauty to be found in the ashes of our sorrow, especially when we reframe our perspective to see a life well fought as an altar pointing people to Jesus. Our lives may always sound like a sad song, but that doesn’t mean what other people hear is the same tenor.

Trust me, life has been brutal, dare I say, savage, this decade. Despite the positive turn in recent years, my debates with God are still on the regular.

Dear Lord, thank you for what you did during Juju’s life and gifting my family with this incredible light, this testimony unfolding, but surely you know what it’s like to grieve. You know what it’s like to be separated from your only begotten Son. If you’re stripping me of anything my life could cling to other than you, so be it. I don’t have to know how you’re exalted in those moments as long you’re exalted at all. And with a daughter dancing in your courts, I dare not lose sight of the new life I have in Christ, knowing that’s exactly what she has.

For all you readers and co-sufferers out there, ask yourself: Will I be too stubborn in my grief to don new garments of praise? To serve and think within new wineskins? Or am I too scared to endure because I don’t want God to let me down again? I know for me, I don’t have the margin, nor do I want to give that question room to manifest. Thus, I will keep looking up and pressing on one step at a time, with Juju’s rays forever on the horizon. The victory’s been won. Let’s choose to walk it in. God, show us the way…

Selah.