At 10:00 AM sharp, we got the show on the road. We prayed. We sang two hymns. I preached a dynamic, moving message. Twenty minutes later, we sang another hymn, and I moved behind the altar to bless the elements and lead Holy Communion. For the next five minutes, my assistant and I walked around the chapel distributing communion to the residents—all the while, totally clueless, I was air-conditioning my frontside.

Anywho, being up there in the middle of nowhere under the pitch-black of night reminds me of Solomon’s words. Alls I can say is thank goodness for headlamps for the forehead, flashlights, and headlights on our cars—‘cause it was so dark up there I couldn’t see the front of my nose… almost.

God always knows exactly what we need; not just sometimes, but all the time. My body, mind, and yes, even my soul desperately needed that rest, and God—along with my family—gave me the space and time to get exactly what I required. For that, I am tremendously grateful.

Ultimately, I am so incredibly thankful for the peace of mind, heart, and soul I felt last night under that canopy of stars. I’m thankful God got me home in one piece, and I’m thankful for the deep rest He provided after that white-knuckle drive.

Curt’s call to ask if I could preside over the man’s burial was a kind gesture. He could have called any minister in the area, but he reached out to me. He didn’t know if I’d be available on a Saturday, or even if I’d be willing to help. But as I thought about it, who was I to say no?

From the speakers to my ears, my soul was weighing the dark depravity of the human heart. Yet with my eyes, I was witnessing the magic of light highlighting the beauty of God’s visible creation. In that moment, all I could think of was our wondrous Lord who, when darkness covered the earth, shone the light of His Son to redeem that which was doomed to be lost.

Today’s post might as well be a sequel to yesterday’s pre-adventure teaser. Well, 24 hours later, I can tell ya in post: the day did not disappoint—and neither did the kids, nor the Lord. Let me break down the play-by-play of why I am profoundly grateful to God for the whole glorious, exhausting experience.

For this aging pastor, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve taken a road trip with the next generation—especially when the kiddos aren’t my own legal responsibility, ya know? So… pray for us. Seriously, pray for them (halakha), and remember to be thankful too. Today is a day to plant seeds, guide, and prove to these kids that even us old farts can still have a bit of fun.

It seems like just yesterday she was that tiny toddler demanding everyone’s attention. And then, just like that, she was in high school, then college, then sailing the oceans blue (just like her dad before her), and finally getting hitched and having babies of her own. That little girl in pigtails, our firstborn... how can she be 32?

When I found her room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Now, I didn’t know Gramma Ginny from Eve, and having been taught basic manners, I knocked on the door instead of barging right in like I owned the place. Then I heard it: “Hello. Come on in.”

Christendom, for many Westerners, is an individualistic religion, but I’m not sure it was ever meant to be practiced in isolation. Yet, this morning, as I gazed out onto our congregation—even amid the early summer months when attendance across the hemisphere takes a dive—I greeted many friends whose faces regularly appear on Sundays....

All summer long, I’d make the drive down to Austin from the Twin Cities to spend some time with my grandma, but really, to go hang out at East Side Park with my girl. I was infatuated, and somehow, I knew she was the one for me. Well, six years later in that very same month we met, we said “ I do, till death do us part.” That was thirty-four years ago today, and it’s gone by like a flash.