Fall Forward: A Posture for This Season

September 29, 2025Leave a comment

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

God’s Life Together: A Discussion on Church (feat. The Circuit Riders)

September 6, 2023September 27, 2023Leave a comment

Right Up My Aili: The Final Small Fry (Part 1)

July 23, 2023July 23, 2023Leave a comment

It’s another sultry evening in west Nash as I type this. I don’t speak on my behalf when I say I’m glad recent storms have finally subsided.

For most of you reading this, you know how much I love storms. When I’m in one, I’m one step closer to awe – one step closer to life making more sense. After all, the winds within are never far away.

Of course, you wouldn’t know it given the script of 2023’s first half, a stretch in which the theme of forced rest amidst evolving pursuits have re-emerged. While the in-house volume has emphatically increased, in several areas of life, Lys and I have been forced to mute the noise to maintain heading.

And so it is, I pen this post during the last normal weekend for the foreseeable future. Houston, start down the countdown. We’re less than six days away from the final small Fry making her arrival.

While much attention this year has been given to the Juby Journey book, occasionally, it helps to zoom out to 20,000 feet and refresh a different page. Personally, I find the practice not just helpful but vital – a necessity during such disorienting days.

This dichotomy, man. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt and likely will ever feel again.

On one hand, the grief of losing Juby last September has finally started to subside. Slowly but surely, Lys and I are getting there though as I’ve said before: You can’t ever quantity a journey through grief and its cycles. You can only paint a picture through watercolor language. Even then, you’re talking about a mere speck on a 10′ x 10′ canvas of emotions. We’re moving in the right direction – an oasis there, a ray of sun there. Maybe someday, we’ll be out of the woods for good.

On the other, you have the anticipation of Aili, a golden surprise in what has been the smoothest pregnancy by a wide margin. Such a sweet kiss from the Lord as part of a redemptive narrative unfolding. Who would have guessed it based on what happened two years ago around this time?

Still, when you lose a child, you’re never the same again. And you certainly feel the rift when joyous occasions are on the horizon. As Lys and I shared in our Vandy grief support group in April, when you go through something like what we did last year, an organic strengthening occurs when perseverance is compelled to a life on the lines, when hope is forced to the end of its rope. Eventually, there are moments when the despondency softens and you realize you’ve made strides in becoming the person you’ve always wanted to be.

But there is a cost, one tracing back to that same hope ironically enough. While endurance may have fortified your faith, your capacity to positively anticipate is broken, at least bent. And it’s here where the bizarre paradox starts to unveil. Yes, you’re grateful for the forging through fire. Still, you can’t help but wonder why so many shades of happiness are gone. Perhaps they’ve melded into scars and the only possible way to sense them is through the prelude of thanksgiving?

Whatever the case, while eager enthusiasm is much harder to come by, our desire to look up and receive fresh perspective remains at ease. Take it from the battle-tested: All those sermons about intentionality in referencing God, I’m telling you…they aren’t Sunday morning fluff. At some point, you grow up and realize there is no other way to find those morsels of encouragement. Sometimes, all you can do is pray. And that’s okay.

As for Lys and I, we’re doing what we’ve been doing for so long now – one day at a time, one hour at a time, keeping hearts transparent and lifelines secure. To be honest, I feel a tad guilty – I probably should be more excited about Aili’s arrival on Friday. The last time one of our own came into the world, there was so much chaos and hostility. Forgive me, Lord, I’m just a weak man walking on the sea. I believe in You and yet reserve my joy to seeing the evidence of health without compromise, your breath in her lungs as we pour out our praise. At this point, I don’t contend for normality but vibrancy in abundance. Hence, why Aili is the name we’re going with. In dark depths, when shadows are at their most opaque, there’s a bright, shining light in our midst reminding us He’s there looking out for us.

As for life itself, the internal knots will eventually unwind and streams once abandoned will be returned to. God knows what we’ve had to release in the short term and why. Certainly, where the help has and hasn’t occurred this year has been telling. Like a weather vane turning in slow motion, the signs aren’t lost on me. Glory to God, He speaks through and to voids, even ones unauthorized, to reach us with what only He can provide.

Yet, despite the mysteries and unknowns, what I can say is this: While the heart is weak and willing, as far as it be with us, we will relish the ride. Even as we pass through the turnstile of significant dates, August 21 and September 18, most notably, you can bet the joy set before Him, along with the cost, will be counted. Even though we feel trapped in a parallel universe, far removed from our intended plotline, our trust will remain anchored, our times in His hands.

We got this ’cause He had it first. May it be.

Until then, selah and know…