An American Poem of Hope

I woke up this morning and felt like being creative. So I formulated some thoughts on today’s election and decided to put them in a poem. My hope isn’t found in who sits in the White House in January. My hope is in the King of kings that was in full control over Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Xerxes, Caesar, James, and is still in full control over world leaders today. So, my hope gets to be unwavering and I hope that your hope does too.


It’s not about you and it’s not about me.

It’s not about the “system” to which we cling.

It’s not about the firsts that are on the brink.

It’s not up to us anyway.

It’s not about the red, about the black, white, or blue.

It’s not about the information we’re fed on the news.

It’s not about the Millennials, Gen X, or Baby Boom.

It’s not about us and it never has been.

We’ve lived for so long thinking we call the shots;

that the elected representatives are the ultimate crux.

We think we are gods and that God should serve us

and keep us so safe and secure how we want.

This illusion of power of which we’re convinced

has never been real, we’re just wrong once again.

We’ve put all our faith in some liars and cheats

and forget that the King’s in control of all things.

The King’s still on His throne and is over all things.



When In Bryan (Month Two)

I can’t even believe it is already November. I feel like October would’ve been nearly non-existent had the LORD not totally began to demolish a bunch of the walls I’ve been building up in my heart and soul for the past five years. This past month has been a lot more emotionally taxing than physically taxing (as September was).

We as a church staff have started reading a book together and spending a good chunk of our staff meeting processing through it together. The book is called “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality” by Peter Scazzero. This book has been a consistent kick in the teeth for the past few weeks. Here’s a few things the Lord has been revealing to me about myself (some of which I may write about as the month goes on, but this isn’t the time to go in to detail about all of this).


  • I am not good at submitting to leadership.
  • I am not even close to as humble as I thought.
  • I am afraid of being known because really anyone who has truly known me in the past has pretty much dropped me at some point (with a few exceptions).
    • This has led to me choosing to live in the dark on a lot of stuff and let me tell you, I wish everyone would live in the light. It is far healthier and far more bearable and joyful of a life. It far more closely reflects the life Jesus describes in John 10:10.
  • I have an inherent lack of trust for people within the Church.
    • I also generally have unrealistic expectations of people in the church, I think.
  • Love doesn’t hinge on clarity and clarity doesn’t bring forgiveness.
    • Love breeds forgiveness regardless of clarity.


And in the midst of all of this demolition of my synthetic inner walls, I’ve realized this as well: I am far less important than I thought I was, but I am far more loved and cared for than I could ever imagine.

I’ve had so many conversations in the past two weeks of repentance and forgiveness. Not because I am fully healed from things that have happened or the lies people have fed me or the abandonment that I’ve faced from people who have used me. No. Those things still hurt. But what’s different now is that I’m not pouring the salt of bitterness and resentment into those wounds while the Lord is trying to bind up my broken heart and heal my wounds. Now I get to sit and be taken care of by the Lord and by my friends and I don’t feel resentment anymore. I can sit and be bandaged and not rip the bandage off to pour in more dirt and salt. My wounds aren’t infected anymore and that is the first step of being emotionally and spiritually healthy.

Please don’t get me wrong, it has been really terrible and exhausting for the Lord to come in like a bull in a china shop and demolish all of my walls. But it has also been so good because I’ve gotten to taste, see, and feel the goodness of God the Father because while he’s come in swinging, he sits there with me while HE builds everything back up and speaks life and speaks identity over me.

“You’re my son.” He says. “Of course I’d fight off all of these lies that have surrounded you.”

October was crazy and tiring, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Childlike Faith

Children are something else.

For the past couple of months, I have been trying to figure out what it means to have a childlike faith while being fed solid spiritual food and not spiritual milk. It has been quite the adventure; I have done some ridiculous external actions to try and figure it out (drink chocolate milk while reading The Word, watching Veggietales, etc.). The last couple of weeks though, ABBA has taught me differently.

My summer job for 2013 is being a Camp Director at a day camp for kids. Needless to say, I severely underestimated how exhaustive they are. And it isn’t even that they are bad (sometimes), I can’t explain it. As I was telling this to one of my closest friends, they told me, “You are getting to experience firsthand what God goes through with us every single day.” Well, my mind was blown. I had overlooked that simple truth.

Today, there was a young boy who did the opposite of what I said no matter how many times I told him or how loud my voice was when I told him. It wasn’t until a few hours later that I realized, “Holy crap. I literally do this on a daily basis with things much more important than playing with toys that aren’t ours.” I was given a handful more of patience to tide me over for the rest of the day.

The last couple of weeks; however, there has been this young boy that has taught me what it means to be a kid. He is so sweet and he doesn’t have an angle with it. The questions he asks, as ridiculous as they seem to me, are legitimate and he really wants to know the answer to them. He needs some redirection sometimes, but I never EVER have to tell him more than twice to do anything (and most of the time he will do it without complaining or arguing). This is the kind of faith that I want. I want to be able to trust my Dad when He tells me something isn’t a good idea. More importantly, I want to be obedient without complaining or arguing.

The question shouldn’t be “are you chasing after a childlike faith,” it should be a how question.

Food for thought:
How are you chasing after childlike faith?