I grew up in the deep south – a Mississippi town called Petal that’s 65 miles from the Gulf Coast. And naturally, after spending the first part of my life there, I developed a southern accent.
Category: Growing Pains
Why God Doesn’t Just Do it Himself
When you look around at Christians, it’s so easy to judge. Believers get it wrong all the time – they get behind the wrong causes; they do a poor job living the truth; and they frequently serve Jesus in selfish ways. You wonder why Jesus didn’t just stay here and do the work of loving the world Himself. Using all of these messed up believers seems so inefficient.
Be Careful What You Promise Yourself
For the last five days, I’ve walked past the Cozy Coup sitting in my driveway and gotten a dose of humility. Two years ago, I looked at a neighbor’s house where a Cozy Coup was in the front yard, and I told my wife that we would never allow our children to do that. “It looks trashy,” I said. Oh well, I guess our front yard looks trashy now.
Your Horrible Past (Is Not So Horrible)
I’ve only seen one person be instantaneously healed in my lifetime, and it wasn’t until last week that I was totally sure it happened. Last week, I wrote a tribute to my late friend John Moorhead, and I sent a link to some of my old coworkers from the clinic where John and I worked. I was a little nervous, wondering if it would just serve as a reminder to them of how annoying I was back in college when I was a high-octane holy-roller.
Foolishly Hiding My Brokenness (Again)
There was a time when I was obsessed with obedience to God. I was neurotic, guilt-ridden, and completely self-centered. In time, that wore me out, and I eventually collapsed into the arms of Jesus and asked Him to save me from my sins – and my wacked-out understanding of salvation. In no time at all, I was swerving to the other side of the road and developed a carelessness about the need for holiness in the Christian life. Spiritual disciplines? Those were for modern-day Pharisees. Sanctification? That was God’s work, not mine.
Driving a Moving Truck on the Water
I thought I’d learned to trust God, that I was over worrying, that I had reached some peak in my spiritual walk. Then last Friday happened. All I had to do was drive a moving truck 269 miles and get it to our new home by 5:00 p.m. But then things went terribly wrong, due to a bad call by the moving company. We didn’t have a big enough truck to haul all of our things, and we ended up having to hitch a 12-foot trailer onto the back.
Whose Applause Do You Need?
Last week, one of my articles got published over at Boundless. It felt like it was my birthday. For a year-and-a-half, I’ve been consistently cranking out articles that have been mostly read by my mom and her quilting guild. The next thing you know, the traffic meter on my blog zooms upward, new people start subscribing, and I’m on the phone with an agent who’s offering me a chance to co-write a book with Beth Moore (okay, that last part didn’t actually happen).
Sin: Chocolate-covered Cat Poo
In his book, When Good Men Are Tempted, Bill Perkins talks about one night when he unwittingly fell into sexual temptation. He only meant to go outside and water the grass, but in the dark, he looked up at his neighbor’s home and “saw a beautiful young woman talking on the phone. That wouldn’t have been any big deal if she was dressed. But she wasn’t.”
You’ve Fallen, and You Can Get Up
Last Tuesday, I mistakenly decided to be cool. I walked out of the house in my snazzy, faux, black Hugo suit, a white shirt, and no tie. I was going to work, but I looked more like I was going clubbing. I walked past my beat up, 1996 Honda Accord, strutted down the sidewalk, and walked down the street to catch the public bus. About fifty yards from the bus stop, I saw my bus go past the 7-11, make the stop, and then move on.
Face-plant Into the Arms of Jesus
This is a continuation of my previous post. After years of self-induced, spiritual stress, I finally realized God wasn’t the shin-kicking, cosmic scorekeeper I had imagined. For the first time since I was a kid, I knew my salvation was secure, and obedience seemed like an opportunity, rather than an obligation. I was a changed man, a Jesusy flower child, feeling saved all over again.
Did Mel Gibson Kill Jesus?
This is a continuation of my previous post. Two days before the opening of The Passion of the Christ, I sat in front of the television, wide-eyed, anxiously awaiting Diane Sawyer’s prime-time special – an interview with Mel Gibson, the film’s director. At the crux of the interview, Sawyer squinted her eyes, tilted her head, and asked Mel Gibson the big question: “Who killed Jesus? Was it the Jews? The Romans?” I leaned forward, curious what Gibson would say.
Grace in the Pediatric ICU
This is a continuation of my previous post. My seven-month-old nephew, Canaan, was in a semi-comatose state, a victim of an unforeseen intestinal disease. He had been through two emergency surgeries in two days; his small intestine and kidneys were failing. He had 12 machines hooked to his body, two respirators down his throat, and his swollen small intestine was hanging in a bag above his body.
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
This is a continuation of my previous post. After four years of living like a legalistic, modern-day Pharisee, I was exhausted, humiliated by failure, and desperate for freedom. Despite my good intentions, I had turned my life into a spiritual circus act. I followed as many rules as possible, only to discover that following the rules can’t make you holy – but rules can make you very aware of your sin (see my previous post).
I Fought the Law, and the Law Won
This is a continuation of my previous post. Three years into college, I had done everything in my power to grow into the man evangelical Christianity wanted me to be. But I could never do enough, and the pressure was making me physically sick and leaving me with a sense of worthlessness.
How to Scare the Hell out of an Insecure Christian
This is a continuation of my previous post. The visiting evangelist paced back and forth, vigorously preaching the fear of the Lord. He had a microphone, but Lord knows he didn’t need one. He shouted at the packed room of petrified charismatics, denouncing a litany of sins – and not just the classic ones. He zeroed in on rebellious attitudes, careless words – and, yes, he even condemned those who engaged in “habitual mas-tur-bation!”
Joshua Rogers 