Scripture is filled with wisdom. Both explicitly and implicitly. Explicitly, in the ESV translation of the Bible, wisdom makes an appearance over 200 times. Implicitly, it is much more difficult to count the number of places God’s Word gives us wise content. Nevertheless wisdom is woven through hundreds of Scriptutre’s inspired pages. In fact we would not be wrong to see every word in the Bible as the revealed wisdom of God. Suffice to say, Scripture is filled with wisdom.

This spring marks the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s assaination in Memphis, TN—April 4, 1968. Today is his birthday—January 15, 1929. Writing a worthy tribute of such a man feels is impossible. After all he was not just one man, he was many. So let me simply say I am in a deep process of growing in my understanding and gratitude for Rev. Dr. King. Therefore my words today may perhaps be much more about me than him—forgive me for that. 

Death and taxes have a long lost brother--waiting. After all waiting seems just as certain for us humans as our own funerals and April 15th. Waiting is inevitable. Waiting is hard. And yet, I believe, waiting is for our joy. Much of the Christian life is waiting. This shouldn't be surprising to us, but it often is. Think about it. From Genesis to the Gospels, God's people are waiting. They are waiting on God. They were instructed by him to wait on him (Hosea 12:6).

A religious leader came up to Jesus. He had a question and called him teacher. But his invisible motives are made clear through Scripture's inspiration--he was coming to testJesus. He asked, what's the greatest commandment? Jesus quoted part of Deuteronomy 6, saying to love God with our whole self is the first and greatest commandment. Then Jesus said "and" ... apparently the greatest commandment has an inherent implication. Jesus said, the second is like it, "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." 

Nearly every Sunday I walk ten minutes to a coffee shop. My route takes me through a cross-section of my neighborhood--passed as many newly constructed homes as vacant storefronts with nothing left to tell the story but former company names hanging over the front door. I sit at a table with my sermon notes, my Bible, and a cup of coffee. Usually I only have about an hour before I walk to the school where our church meets on Sunday mornings. It’s one of my favorite hours of my week. 

Raising kids is always difficult. At a basic level, parenting is a conflict of wills--the will of a parent and the will of a child. This tension is enough to produce countless premature gray hairs, sleepless nights, and heated conversations. However parenting is more difficult still. After all we do not raise children in sterilized vacuums of culture, we raise them in a maze of cultures and social complexities. Therefore every day as moms and dads we are battling the genuineness of our own will, the development of our children's will, and the prevailing pressures of a surrounding world whose collective will rarely seems to make our jobs any easier.

Fridays are my day off. Within Christian circles we might call it a Sabbath or day of rest. Mine is on Friday; I know, not Sunday. We pastors have an ironic relationship with Sundays—“the official day of rest” is perhaps our most tiring of the week. Though this is quickly changing, historically Sundays have been set aside for rest—inside and outside the church.

It's difficult to express the influence Haddon Robinson has had on my life and preaching. In fact, I'm sure I don't even know the depth of it. After all his preached words and ministerial ways have been instrumental in the shaping of a great majority of the ministry leaders and preachers who have influenced me and my generation--whether we know it or not. Countless books on homiletics use his theories and "big idea" construct as their foundation. So it's nearly impossible to comprehend let alone describe how Dr. Robinson has impacted me. 

I’ve embraced my share of fads. Most notably sporting multiple WWJD bracelets in the 90s, shaving a Nike Swoosh in my hair in junior high, and currently buttoning the top button of my collard shirts (sans a tie). Generally speaking a fad is a widely shared enthusiasm—person, place, or thing—that is usually short-lived and has little consideration for quality. In other words few fads aim for endurance but are simply pleased to be popular. And as I hope you will tell from my own admission (and yours!) fads are not merely an issue with prevailing pop-culture but more alarmingly within religious Church culture. 

Kimberly is devastatingly sweet. Her likability may only be outdone by her fashion sensibility. Without fail she exemplifies her profession every time I see her—she is a stage designer. She became good friends with my wife, Laura and they regularly enjoyed conversations and walks down the street between our apartments.

Promises are powerful. Whether a parent promises to come their kid's baseball game or I promise my wife I will love her and be true to her "until death do us part” … promises are powerful. With words we regularly attempt to assure those around us of our character or behavior, particularly as it relates to the future. So making promises is a primary way our love and invisible qualities are revealed. But every promise involves risk.

Menus are terrifying. To be sure they are little more than lists of available options—yet often in culinary languages difficult for me to understand; laced with unfamiliar insider foodie vocabulary. However the words are the least of my discomforts at a new restaurant. When perusing a new menu the sheer reality of choice is overwhelming.

Before my wife and I put our children to sleep, we sing a song and pray. Recently, they started picking up our routine. My daughter sings along. My son mumbles noises shaped like the melody. They slightly bow their heads and say amen. I’m fully aware they are mostly unaware of the details and depth of the Christian faith woven through the song and prayer. But they are picking up on something.

Life is hard. No matter who we are, we all experience difficulty. To be sure, the degree of life’s severity differs from person to person. As I write this, many around the world are experiencing heartbreaking realities (I am thinking most immediately of those affected by war in Aleppo and Mosul and the thousands of refugees seeking asylum around the world). 

We had only known each other six months. But on the shore of Lake Michigan, I asked Laura to marry me and she said “yes.” Without a hitch, the popular passion of engagement hit me immediately. We called everyone and relived each moment with all of our friends and family from start to finish. However, something else hit me almost as quickly. As much as I was absolutely taken by this woman, within a few days I felt my feelings sink. That’s right, on the other side of proposing I was feeling my feelings change.