May 2026 – Welcome

Sleep – 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

The way Christians talk about death says something about what we actually believe. I’ve been to enough funerals to know that a Christian funeral is a genuinely different experience.

“For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever.” — 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 (NLT)

Paul is writing to a people who might have a question about death. They might be thinking “will we see them again?” “Did their death mean they missed something?” Paul answers that with an exhortation that they should not grieve like those who are without hope. Not only will they not miss anything, they will actually be first. The dead in Christ rise before those who are still alive. And then everyone together meets Jesus in the air. This is not a metaphor. Paul means it literally, and doing anything less than taking him at his word does a lot of damage to what he’s actually saying.

One thing worth noting is the language Paul uses for death ,”fallen asleep.” That phrase carries a lot in it. It assumes a waking up. It treats death not as a final ending but as a temporary state. Early Christians seemed to use that language deliberately, and honestly it’s worth considering whether we should bring it back.

The way Christians talk about death says something about what we actually believe. I’ve been to enough funerals to know that a Christian funeral is a genuinely different experience. There is grief, of course, loss is real and painful. But underneath it there is something else. A hope that doesn’t make logical sense to someone on the outside. Because this is not the end, and we will see that person again.

That hope has a way of reordering everything else too. Paul isn’t saying that when Jesus returns, the wealthiest people get a better spot, or that the most educated or successful have some kind of advantage. None of that travels. What travels is people, relationships, influence, and the investment you made in someone else’s life and faith. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. There are things I could spend my time and energy chasing that will not amount to anything on that day. And there are things, people, conversations, showing up for someone who needs it, that will.

That’s where my head is right now. I want to pursue things that have eternal value. I want there to be people who are standing in that group with Jesus someday because of something I said or did or modeled in my own life. That’s a high calling, and I don’t take it lightly. But it starts with something pretty simple, paying attention to what God is already doing around me and joining him in it.

So, right now my prayer is the same one I keep coming back to, “Show me where you’re working, God.” “Make me receptive when you nudge me in a direction. I don’t want to miss it because I was too busy with things that won’t matter in the end.”

The Range Rover Sport, a lesson in how marketing should work

I don’t live in the UK, but I would venture to bet that there are many car commercials, and many of them might be astoundingly forgettable. Even though you’ve seen them a hundred times, you still can’t remember the car they advertise or even anything remarkable about them.

I recently tried to interact with a LinkedIn post about a commercial for the Range Rove Sport (henceforth, RRS) that plays a lot in the UK.

I say “tried,” because like often happens, I will write a lengthy response, then someone will call me, I’ll switch tabs, and then LinkedIn will decide that all my work is for naught, and I’ll never even find the original post again. It’s frustrating.

But, since the thoughts were significant (in my opinion) to marketing, I will try to recreate them here.

Before going further, if you haven’t watched the ad in question…you totally should. Watch it twice, even.

Although the ad doesn’t play here in America, it is played a lot in the UK, apparently. Commenters were not shy about all of the things in this ad that’s a bit non sequitur. There are

Alpacas that the driver winks at
A giant chessboard
A woman riding a horse
Another woman watching it all with a telescope
An overly large mansion
And a big dog

What was amazing about all of this to me as I read it (and before I’d seen this commercial) was how meticulously all the commenters could pick apart this commercial. It was universally declared a dismal failure by the commenters.

The initial poster had decried it and wondered what the original pitch was that got this thing green-lit. I’ll return to this momentarily.

First, please understand a general principle of marketing.

It’s totally fundamental, but it’s one that people very often miss completely.

The way the human brain works is like a giant filing cabinet. Anytime you encounter something, it builds a file folder on that thing.

Picture this: You go to the beach and you see the sand, the waves, maybe even a bright red crab walking sideways into the water. Your brain builds a file folder on that, called “beach.”

Now imagine: You walk into your living room and you see a couch, a chair, a tv. Everything is in its place. Your brain builds a folder, this time called “Living Room.”

If tomorrow, you go into your living room and you see a bright red crab walking sideways, across the floor, and behind your TV, you would do a double-take.

It’s not that the sight of a bright red crab is something new to you, but it’s out of place. It isn’t what’s in the file folder. Your brain says, “This is new. Pay attention.”

That is the heart of good marketing. It makes you pay attention.

And yet, people remember ever single detail of that commercial, and the Range Rover Sport that it advertises.

So, you ask about the pitch. Here’s how it might have gone:

“I have an idea for an ad. It’s weird. It’s very much NOT a standard car commercial. People won’t get it. They’ll laugh about it’s absurdity. But they’ll take notice. They’ll post about it on social media. They’ll remember tiny details. They’ll mock, but they will remember that it’s an ad for the Range Rover Sport.”

And that, my friends, is pretty good marketing.

Faith on Monday Morning – James 1:19-27

James reminds us that faith is more than just showing up on Sundays; it’s about living it out daily. He stresses listening, controlling anger, and acting on what we learn. Hypocrisy exists, but we need to use Christ’s grace as motivation to grow, not an excuse to stay the same.

“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” — James 1:19 (NIV)

James doesn’t waste a lot of time being gentle. His whole letter has one overarching point that makes a lot of Christians uncomfortable, faith isn’t just belief. It’s belief that leads to action. He would probably tell you that it doesn’t matter how faithfully you show up on Sunday morning if it doesn’t make any difference in how you live Monday through Saturday. That’s a hard word, but it’s a fair one.

Verse 21 is worth slowing down on. When James talks about “the implanted word” that saves, the Greek word he uses is “logos.” It’s the same word John uses at the very beginning of his gospel to describe Jesus himself. John 1 tells us that the Word became flesh. So James isn’t just talking about a book. He’s talking about Jesus, who is planted in our lives, bearing fruit. And the fruit he’s describing is pretty specific: slow to speak, slow to anger, quick to listen, and actually doing something with what you read instead of just nodding along and walking away.

The mirror illustration James uses starting in verse 23 is one of the most memorable in the whole Bible for me. A fool might look at himself, see exactly what’s there, walk away, and immediately forget what he looked like. That would be ridiculous. That’s the person who hears the Word and does nothing about it. It’s almost funny until you realize how accurately it describes most of us on most days. I know it describes me more often than I’d like to admit. My tongue gets away from me. Anger flashes faster than it should. The gap between what I believe and how I actually behave is real.

The thing about the hypocrisy criticism that gets directed at Christians is that it’s not entirely wrong. We do preach a standard and then fall short of it, constantly. But that’s actually the whole point. We’re Christians because we can’t meet that standard on our own. The grace of Christ covers the gap. What we can’t do is use that grace as a reason to stop trying. Paul makes the same argument in Romans, forgiveness shouldn’t make us comfortable with staying the same. It should launch us into something different.

So, I want to be more intentional about the gap between Sunday and Monday. Not in a way that puts a checklist on my faith, but in a way that asks the honest question, “is what I believe actually showing up in how I treat people, how I use my words, and what I spend my time chasing?” James would say that’s one of the only questions that really matters.

Help – Romans 15:1-7

Being completely transparent, this passage hit me differently than some others. I spend a lot of my time and energy focused on helping the people around me. That feels like the right thing but at times it’s exhausting, and I wonder if my own needs and desires are just going to keep sitting on the back burner indefinitely. It can get discouraging.

Each one of us must please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. – Romans 15:2 (HCSB)

Paul makes a pretty straightforward argument here. Those of us who are strong and who have been given gifts (stability, faith, resources, etc.), aren’t supposed to use those things just for ourselves. We’re supposed to use them for the people around us, especially those who are weaker or struggling. He points to Jesus as the example. Jesus didn’t come to please himself but poured everything he had out for people who had nothing to offer him in return. That’s our model.

Then Paul does something interesting. He points his readers back to the Old Testament and reminds them that those scriptures weren’t written just as a history of God and his people. They were written to teach, to build endurance, and to encourage. God knew his people would need fuel for the long haul. The Word isn’t just information, it’s sustenance for people who are in the middle of doing hard things for a long time.

Sometimes the Word of God convicts. Sometimes it redirects. But sometimes it confirms that you’re on the right track and gives you what you need to keep going. That’s what this passage did for me today. Paul’s prayer at the end of this section felt very personal, like it was written for someone who needed to hear that God sees what they’re doing and has good things ahead for them.

Let the scriptures do what Paul says they do, build endurance and encouragement for the road ahead. God is not unaware of what it all costs, and he is not going to leave us empty-handed. That doesn’t mean that he’ll make us rich, but it does mean that we are building the type of character that God wants in his people, and he’ll use that for his glory.

Do Things – Ecclesiastes 11:1-6

“As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.” — Ecclesiastes 11:5 (HCSB)

The first verse of this passage trips people up because it sounds like Solomon is talking about tossing bread into a stream. He’s not. This is ancient poetry, and it’s actually about trade and investment, putting something out there, taking a risk, and then waiting to see what comes back. The second verse isn’t about a literal count of seven or eight either. It’s a Hebrew poetic way of saying diversify. Don’t put everything into one thing. Spread it out. Because you don’t know what’s coming and you can’t control it anyway.

Actually, the whole passage is really a series of poetic analogies pointing at the same idea. There are forces at work that no human being can predict or manage. The wind, the rain, which way a tree falls, and what the market does are not things Solomon is telling us to figure all out. He’s telling us that we can’t, and to stop pretending otherwise. What we can control is whether we do something or nothing. The person who waits for perfect conditions, who watches the clouds long enough to find a reason to plant, will end up with an empty field. The person who plants anyway, even without knowing how it will go, at least has a chance.

This passage is one of those places where the Bible feels more like a pillow than a hammer to me personally. I know people who read the promises of Jesus about how God takes care of the birds and the grass (Matt 6:25-34), and use that as a reason to sit still and wait for God to drop something in their lap. I also know people who pour everything into one venture, and when it doesn’t work out they end up angry at God. Solomon is pushing back on both of those. Do something. Do several things. And then hold it loosely, because you are not the one who controls outcomes.

For me, the diversification is standard, and sometimes it’s almost frenetic. I spread things out because I know I can’t predict which thing will land. That part I’ve got. The harder part is the waiting and staying connected to God through the seasons when nothing seems to be succeeding. When it feels like I’m out there alone doing things that may or may not matter, the truth is I’m not alone. God cares about me more than sparrows in a forest, and he has a track record of coming through in ways I didn’t see coming. His timing just doesn’t always match mine.

So the takeaway isn’t complicated. Keep moving. Don’t let my hands go idle. Don’t be frantic about it, but don’t stop either. Some things will succeed and some won’t, and I don’t have to figure out which is which in advance. That’s not my job. My job is to keep putting something in the water and trusting that God is paying attention to what comes back.

Staring – Philippians 4:6-9

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV)

Here’s the thing about this passage that I can’t get past, Paul wrote it from prison. Not a rough week at work. Not a frustrating season of life. Prison, and likely heading toward his execution. He had every reason in the world to be anxious, desperate, and focused on what was going wrong. And yet, the word he keeps coming back to throughout this whole letter is “rejoice.” Over and over again. That’s not a man who had an easy life. It’s something that I should really pay attention to.

What Paul is saying to the Philippians isn’t “pretend everything is fine.” He’s not telling them to ignore their problems or paste a smile on top of their pain. He’s telling them where to point their attention. Think about what is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, and good. Bring your requests to God — but bring them with thanksgiving, not desperation. The difference between those two things is enormous. One comes from a person who has forgotten what God has already done. The other comes from someone who remembers.

That’s the part that gets me personally. I have been genuinely, extravagantly blessed, and way beyond what I have earned or deserved. God has provided for me in unexpected ways more times than I can count, and he has never once failed to come through. I bet he has for you too. Right now, try listing out three things you are thankful for. I made that a part of my daily routine a while back, and it powerfully affected my day.

Yet I have this stubborn habit of staring at the one thing I don’t have instead of the mountain of things I do. It’s honestly a little ridiculous when I say it out loud. The blessings have always been so much greater than the need. Maybe you are a little like that too.

The good news is that Paul isn’t telling us to just try harder to feel grateful. He’s pointing us toward a practice of prayer, petition, thanksgiving. That reorients our focus. When I bring my needs to God wrapped in genuine gratitude for what he has already done, something shifts. That’s what he means by a peace that goes beyond understanding. It doesn’t make logical sense given the circumstances. It just shows up when we stop staring at the waves and remember who is standing on the water.

So this week, every time I feel that familiar pull of discouragement over something I need or lack, I’m going to stop and name something God has blessed me with. Not as a spiritual exercise to check a box, but as a genuine reset, a way of reminding myself that his track record is perfect and the need in front of me is actually pretty small compared to what he has already handled. He’ll take care of it. He always does.

Listen – John 10:22-30

“My sheep listen to My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me”
-John 10:27 (NASB)

The setting here matters more than it might seem at first glance. Jesus is in Jerusalem, at the temple, during Hanukkah — a festival celebrating a time when God provided miraculously for his people against impossible odds. It’s winter, which means shepherds weren’t out in open fields. They were sheltered with their flocks, up close, personally responsible for every animal making it through the cold season. And the people surrounding Jesus were almost certainly religious leaders, not curious seekers. They were likely trying to get him to say something they could use against him.

Jesus doesn’t take the bait directly. He doesn’t just say “yes, I’m the Messiah” and hand them what they want. Instead he tells them something more pointed. If they had been paying attention to what he’d been doing, they would already know the answer. And if they don’t recognize it, that says something about them, not about him. They don’t know his voice. Not the literal, audible voice of God, but something deeper than that,the way God moves, the way he operates, his character. You only know that through intimacy, not observation from a distance, or even from just following all the rules like some religious robot.

Then he says something that would have been absolutely striking for a person who wasn’t following Jesus to hear inside the temple walls, “I and the Father are one.” That’s not a casual statement. That’s the whole thing.

I mean, think about it. Hear were people who were very serious about following all the religious rules stringently. Jesus was saying that in spite of all of that, they really didn’t know God at all. And he wraps it in this image of a shepherd in winter — sheep sheltered, held close, completely protected. No one snatches them away. Not because the sheep are strong, but because the shepherd is.

That image affects me personally. I want to be the kind of person who knows God’s voice that well — intimately acquainted with how he works, familiar enough with his character that I recognize when he’s speaking. I feel like I’m genuinely trying to get there, especially in this season of my life. But I also know that sin does damage. It gets in the way. It’s like static on a line that used to be clear. My honest prayer is that God heals that and helps me hear him more clearly.

The practical part is pretty straightforward, even if it’s not always easy. I can’t just talk at God like I’m placing an order at a drive-thru and then pulling away. That’s not a relationship. It’s a transaction. What I actually need is real back-and-forth. I need dedicated time to sit and listen, not just speak. Then carrying that conversation through the rest of the day, moment by moment. That’s how you get to know someone’s voice. You spend time with them and listen.