Nakedness was God’s idea. And it was very good.

“And the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed” (Genesis 2:25).

If you will, consider the pristine innocence of the first humans, before sin entered the world. After all, why should Adam and Eve, in their intimacy, have felt anything other than delight? Like newborn babies in their nakedness, they were just as the Lord had created them. Brought together by Him to share all the ecstasies of their consecrated union, our first parents were enjoying the spirit-soul-body oneness that God had declared “very good.”

But everything changes in Genesis 3. Note that the first depiction of shame in Holy Scripture occurs immediately after the Fall. After their willful disobedience, Adam and Eve can’t see God, themselves, or each other in the same innocent way. What was once beautiful about their nakedness is now marred by sin. To their core, Adam and Eve feel shameful and exposed, and they experience the desperate need to hide – from the Lord and from each other.

Paradise was lost. As our first parents hid as best they could, their need for their guilt to be covered would extend beyond the capacity of a few fig leaves, and would ultimately require the shedding of innocent blood – as God Himself would provide their clothing from animal skins.

To be frank, sex hasn’t been the same since. In a summer edition of “The New Yorker,” as she seeks to explain the “sex drought” (also labeled the “sex recession”) which is observable among American young adults, Jia Tolentino asks the question: “Are young people having enough sex?” In a double book review, the writer-editor examines an array of contemporary theories as to why the “sex drought” is happening …

“The Zoomer sex recession is puzzling in part because sex has seemingly never been less stigmatized or easier to procure. The electronic devices in our pockets contain not only a vast universe of free porn but also apps on which casual sex can be arranged as efficiently as a burrito delivery from DoorDash. Today, it is a mainstream view that desire isn’t shameful … that people can do what they want in the bedroom as long as everyone involved is pleased. And yet, presented with a Vegas buffet of carnality, young people are losing their appetite.”

Isn’t that a fascinating observation? Our culture has tried everything in its power to liberate sex from God – as if God weren’t the one who made sex off-the-charts fantastic in the first place – and the most noticeable result is one big societal turn-off.

Sex is sacred, friends. The one-flesh relationship between a husband and wife reflects the covenant-love between Christ and His Church. Contrary to popular belief, the Bible is exceptionally sex-positive, calling and equipping us to serve and enjoy one another in love. Marriage and family – God’s way – protect hearts and minds, nurture health and wellbeing, encourage human flourishing, and promote social stability.

Let’s get real. The sexual freedom promised by the “Love is Love” mantra delivers anything but. Not surprisingly, Tolentino goes on to observe: “What passes for liberation is often just liberalization – the freedom of the market, in other words, which not only differs from existential freedom but sometimes negates it. We are free, on the internet, to sexually valorize anything and anyone; we are free to sexualize ourselves for any audience; we are not and never will be free from the hypersexuality of an online world that is built around images and videos and that relentlessly turns individuals into commodities – a world in which it is possible to view just about any act imaginable, on demand, in perpetuity.”

I think that Tolentino is partially correct. She understands the dangers of reducing people to commodities, but what she may fail to capture in full is the culture of shame which we have created inadvertently. If you will indulge me, I have a theory about what’s happening: Shame is destroying us from within. It’s a strange phenomenon, I readily admit, because at first glance we appear to be a culture that knows no shame.

But … is it possible that our young people are not as comfortable with moral promiscuity as we might have imagined? Is it possible that they’re secretly craving strong and stable boundaries of absolute truth? Could it be that – when America’s youth put their heads on their pillow at night – our culture’s combo of phony sexual freedom and unforgiving social media has left them deathly afraid of real life?

I believe that shame, tragically, permeates our national culture. It’s my contention that shame doesn’t always make people shy and withdrawn. Sometimes shame makes people loud and angry and boastful and addicted. I believe that shame can create rage and violence and terror. Without the grace of Jesus, who will gladly exchange our sin and shame for His undeserved and eternal salvation, shame can simmer under the surface until it destroys a people from within. We feel guilty because we are guilty.

Tolentino goes on to write: “The real problem at the heart of this matter is less about sex and more about loneliness. Depression and anxiety are now so commonplace among young people as to be taken almost as a given – and there is a concomitant disinterest in, or discomfort with, intimate relationships.”

Friends, we need Jesus. Only He can heal this broken land. Only He can cure the root of our loneliness epidemic. Only He can restore our shared Western Civilization to a life-giving place of moral sanity. Only He can forgive our sin. Such a cultural crisis is never the time for the Church to start finger-pointing and blaming the sinners around us, “for it is time for judgment to begin with the family of God” (1 Peter 4:17).

Here and now, in the craziness of 2025, you and I inhabit a world still ravaged by sin and shame. But the Bible lifts our eyes forward to the day when we’ll see Christ face-to-face: “And now, dear children, continue in Him, so that when He appears we may be confident and unashamed before Him at His coming” (1 John 2:28).

Confident and unashamed. Doesn’t that sound absolutely wonderful? In Christ, you and I are regaining what was lost.

The verb “continue” can be translated “abide” or “remain.” As followers of Christ, you and I are encouraged to hold onto the truth about Jesus that we have heard and believed – the truth confirmed to us by the Holy Spirit – and not to be swayed by persuasive but untrue arguments made by those who do not know Christ. Every fine-sounding but lifeless philosophy is simply some version of the oldest lie (Genesis 3:1): “Did God really say?” Our high and holy calling is to “abide” in Jesus. The truth of Christ must continue to work in His disciples – in each one of us – helping us recognize and resist whatever deceptions we encounter along the way. And, friends, there will be many such lies coming down the pike.

“Love is Love” only when God – who is love – defines it.

The good news of the gospel is that the Lamb of God has fully provided the blood-covering that we desperately needed. And, because of Christ’s empty tomb, the once-shut door of Paradise has been opened wide again. You and I are well on our way!

Until then, let’s keep humbly relying upon the Spirit’s power to enable all of our relationships – each one submitted to His Lordship – to reflect Christ’s goodness and grace.

Pastor Charles

Another act of terrorism on American soil.

I know it’s only September’s end, but it’s felt like a very long year. If we’ve paid any attention to the world around us, and consumed any headlines or social media, we’ve been pummeled by a tsunami of visual carnage. We’ve been subjected to the videos of moral and societal chaos. We’ve been overwhelmed by the spiritual and cultural darkness. With horror, we’ve watched the unfolding of national tragedies and been haunted by their lingering aftermath. We’ve been shaken, and saddened, by the cries of sorrow on the lips of our fellow image bearers. After all, they bear God’s image – the unique image of our Creator.

Some days it feels like too much, friends. And our souls feel weakened by it all.

No stranger to suffering, Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809 – 1892), perhaps the greatest poet of the British Victorian age, composed a long elegiac poem which he titled “In Memoriam.” Tennyson penned the words over a 17-year period of his own struggle to understand a fallen world, as he tried to cope with the tragic death of Arthur Henry Hallam, his best friend from Cambridge and his sister’s fiancé.

As a pastor, if you were to ask me what is the number-one reason why people struggle to maintain their Christian faith, I would answer: the problem of evil. People don’t know how to process all the pain and suffering in the world – including their own. Theologians call this “theodicy,” from the Greek words for “God” and “justice.” Expressed as a succinct question: How could a powerful and good God let this happen?

Included in Tennyson’s larger poem are the words of “Ring Out, Wild Bells.” Published in 1850, the shorter poem expresses the sentiment of a classic New Year’s Eve. It’s raw with gut-level, human emotion. Tennyson reminds us of the universal longings of the human heart, which are – more than a century and a half later – surprisingly unchanged.

I know it’s not time for New Year’s reflections, but my heavy heart today leads me there …

“Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.”

How do we wrestle with the deep division in our land, and with the violence, pain, and sorrow which seem to be ramping up – when we know that there’s a God in heaven who could stop it all in one second? “How long, O Lord?” “How long?” This real-life question echoes in the Scriptures (Psalm 13:1-2; Habakkuk 1:2; Revelation 6:10). It seems that, in whatever era we live, God’s people must face these predicaments. Pain can drive us away from God. That’s clear. But, pain can also drive us to God. When it comes to knowing God’s faithfulness, our personal pain helps us separate fact from fiction. “Ring out the false, ring in the true.”

You see, friend, theodicy can remain an abstract concept relegated to some irrelevant place on a bookshelf, or it can be the very real dilemma that causes us to know how desperately we need a God who transcends every unknown in this life. C.S. Lewis expressed it like this: “We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Pain is God’s megaphone. As the year 2025 “is dying in the night” all around us, we – like both the poet and the philosopher wading through their deep grief – can be transparent with God about our own confusion, pain, and uncertainty. They’re part of life on this fallen planet, and here we are. Instead of quietly wallowing in our anxieties related to God’s providence and grace, we can go straight to our Creator every time our questions seem unanswerable. This is the direct access to the throne of God (Hebrews 4:14-16) which Christ has provided for us!

“Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.”

“Grief … strife … sin … false pride … slander … spite … wars … They’re all in Tennyson’s poem, and they all contribute to what he calls “the darkness of the land.” For us, it may not be the perfect plan of God that the pervasive spiritual, moral, and cultural chaos dissipates overnight. The fog may endure. The resolutions may not come quickly. But – because of an empty tomb – you and I can find peace and faith in the fog.

The most famous words of “In Memoriam” are these: “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I’m here to tell you that the one who loved and lost is Jesus. When our Lord wept at the grave of Lazarus, He showed us everything we need to know. The only one who knew that Lazarus would soon be alive and well chose to enter into our human condition and feel our every pain. Soon Christ would go to the cross for you and for me: naked, bloodied, and alone. Jesus loved us until the end, and then He made the end the beginning! By coming to this world as our perfect sacrifice, Christ was willing to lose Himself – to lay aside His own glory – for our salvation and eternal life with Him.

So when there are things about this broken world that I can’t figure out or reconcile – including my own sorrow – I can still find rest where the greatest injustice became the greatest hope. “Ring out the old, ring in the new!”

Friend, your hope is there too. In Christ, you and I have been loved with the greatest of loves. The wildest of loves.

Ring those bells!

Pastor Charles

What is God calling you to do?

The Anglo-Irish explorer led three exceedingly perilous British expeditions to Antarctica. When Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton (1874 – 1922) advertised for new recruits for his 1914 venture, he tried to sell it with these words: “Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success.”

With stakes far higher, God calls us. You and I are called to come to Christ, by faith, and we’re called to follow Christ in a life spent for God’s glory. I’ve heard His call many times. I heard it first when I was a little boy, and the call grew as I did. But, by the time I got to college, many other calls also rang in my ears: the call of success, the call of control, the call of prestige, and the call of the approval of others – to name a few. As I look back, those lesser calls rang loudly.

Sometimes, God calls us to do things that are next to impossible. Maybe you’re there today. You hear God’s call, but you’re not sure that you can answer, “Yes.”

In 1945, in the dark and cruel concentration camp at Flossenbürg, a man was hanged unjustly. The German pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, was executed because he was an honorable man in a world where honor was rare. Bonhoeffer is often remembered for this quote: “The cross is laid on every Christian. The first Christ-suffering which every man must experience is the call to abandon the attachments of this world. It is that dying of the old man which is the result of his encounter with Christ … we surrender ourselves to Christ in union with His death – we give over our lives to death. Thus it begins; the cross … meets us … When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”

“He bids him come and die.” This death to self is perhaps our hardest calling. To give up my “right” to be the captain of my own ship can be an excruciating death, in fact. To die to myself (Galatians 2:20) means that I no longer live for me. Instead, I live for what Jesus desires for me. Big difference. Christ is my Lord. My Master. My King. I’m not the boss anymore. So, before I do anything, I must ask: “Does Christ delight in this for me?” After all, I’m His disciple.

“Come and die.” Are you there right now?

I believe that each of us comes to a critical juncture where the rubber meets the road. I’m forced to decide: Will I stubbornly strive to prop up myself as the captain of my ship, or will I step aside and submit to the only capable Captain?

As we lean into His call, we discover that Christ speaks plainly (Matthew 16:24-26): “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?”

Friend, will you follow hard after Christ?

The older I get, the more I have to face the reality of my family and friends crossing over from this life to the next. The reality of death ought to humble all of us. It crushes our pretense of self-preservation. It reminds us that we’re vulnerable and ultimately powerless. The next breath we draw is a gift from God. You see, we have a terminal condition – it’s called life. We’re all terminal, and a final breath is ordained for us all.

On that day, it won’t matter that we earned a nice income or that others were impressed by our movie-star good looks. It won’t matter that we traveled the world – or that we didn’t. It won’t matter that we considered ourselves ready to meet God because “my good deeds outweigh my bad deeds.” Spoiler alert: they don’t. On my last day, the only thing that will matter is: Am I prepared to enter eternity?

So that makes this moment – today – count. What you do with the Son of God matters forever. So I’ll repeat: Will you follow hard after Christ?

That starts with trusting Him. No matter what. Not relying on your righteousness, but His. Not leaning on your own understanding, but His. Not charting your own course – but yielding to His. Not being the captain, but serving the Captain.

Yesterday, many of us watched as Mrs. Erika Kirk forgave her husband’s assassin. I’m still taking it in. It’s one of the most beautiful examples of grace – from one undeserving human to another – that I’ve ever witnessed. I would submit for your consideration that only a person following hard after Jesus can do something like that. When you and I are given the grace to choose the road of forgiveness, we’re choosing the road of Christ’s Lordship. We’re choosing to walk away from a debt that we could have held over someone’s head, so we’re choosing to walk away from our “power” over the person who wronged us. Such death to ourselves is Christlike: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Today, you’re not likely in a position to have to forgive the murderer of someone you love. But I’ll bet you have your own hard calling. Ignore the lesser calls, and answer the call that’s both hardest and best. Courage is a choice.

I’m urging you not to cover your ears. Heed the call. Lay down your life. And pick up the glorious life – your glorious life – for which Christ died and rose again.

If the call of God feels risky – and your calling may well be high-risk – what’s the worst thing that can happen? Nothing can snatch us away from God! In the reassuring words of Romans 8: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? … Neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Whew! You and I are free to serve God here and now – with all that we are.

So go do it! Live that life. And don’t look back. Playing it safe is so overrated.

If we are in Christ and trusting in Him, our physical death will do nothing but usher us into Christ’s unending presence and eternal joy. We have it on good authority, my friends, that Jesus – by way of a bloody cross and an empty tomb – has turned death on its head. Death is dead and Christ has won!

If we believe this – you and I – we won’t cling so desperately to this life. Instead, you and I will stretch out our arms in anticipation of the greater life which Christ has purchased for us.

Come and die.

Pastor Charles

Like many of us, I suppose, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what it means to be a
follower of Christ and an American. As I was pondering what to say to you today, I landed on
God’s Word as it’s recorded in Jeremiah 2:11-13 …

“My people have changed their glory
for that which does not profit.
Be appalled, O heavens, at this;
be shocked, be utterly desolate,
declares the Lord,
for my people have committed two evils:
they have forsaken me,
the fountain of living waters,
and dug out cisterns for themselves,
cracked cisterns that can hold no water.”

A cistern was a reservoir carved into rock to hold water. Cisterns were essential in Israel, where
summers are dry and where natural springs are few. God gave this illustration to Jeremiah to
show His people how foolish they had been. I wonder if the Lord would say something similar
about us – the church today – as we too have failed to rely on Him as entirely as we should.

You may never have heard of César Chesneau Dumarsais. He trained as a lawyer, but gave
much of his energy to the world of emerging philosophy which launched what we now know as
the Enlightenment. Dumarsais died in his French homeland in 1756. As a refresher, when I refer
to the Enlightenment – often called the “Age of Reason” – I’m speaking roughly to the period
between 1680 and 1800. The French referred to it as “Siècle des Lumières” – the “Age of Light.”

The Enlightenment led to a reinterpretation of the whole world. Shiny new concepts of
“reason,” self-fulfillment, toleration, and progress were in – and the tired old ways of religion
were out. Traditional and orthodox doctrines came to be rejected wholesale – by many at least
– as any serious consideration of the historic Christian faith became highly suspect. It was
Dumarsais who penned the line: “Reason is to the philosopher what grace is to the Christian.
Grace causes the Christian to act, reason the philosopher.”

As you might imagine – in the “Age of Reason” – falling like dominoes were once-held truths
like Adam’s sin and the Fall, real-life miracles, and the deity of Jesus Christ. The “enlightened”
came to believe that Christianity was a dark threat to the peace, prosperity, and civility
promised by the Enlightenment – as people chose to be guided by the new light of knowledge
rather than the old light of grace.

Looking back over my lifetime, I think I’ve witnessed a similar seismic shift. Churches that once
prized the light of the gospel have traded it for the “light” of humanism and self-sufficiency. We
think we’re too sophisticated for the simple message of a bloody cross and an empty tomb.

As a result, as the body of Christ has forsaken the gospel, so has the nation around us wandered
into more and more darkness. Now, our most prestigious universities bolster the notion that
objective truth can’t be known at all. I’m submitting to you that the relativism in the culture
may stem from relativism in the church. Tragically, the church hasn’t held onto spiritual light
any better than we’ve held onto spiritual water. Think about how tragic this is! We who serve
the Light of the world (John 8:12) – and who’ve been commissioned to light up His world with
His grace and truth (Matthew 5:14) – have failed at our most important calling.

As the church has gradually weakened – and our truthful witness to the culture has evaporated
– so has our nation weakened. I think we’re seeing the fruit of that every day. Like the cisterns,
we are broken. America is suffering.

Maybe we need the old light of grace.

The first election after I was old enough to vote, I voted for Ronald Reagan. As a young man
trying to find my way in the world, I found Reagan to be wise, steady, and humble – a
compelling trio. He was a reformer – some considered him a radical departure from the norm –
but what Reagan seemed to want more than anything else was to do what was right. When he
tried to steer the USA in ways that he believed were the best course, President Reagan was
actually steering us toward the wisdom gained from our shared 200-year history. He loved God,
and he loved our country, and everyone knew it. Slowly but surely, many of his detractors were
won over by his steady, principled, and gracious wisdom.

On January 11, 1989, President Reagan delivered his Farewell Address, and I’ll never forget how
he described his hope for us: “I’ve spoken of the shining city all my political life … built on rocks
stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in
harmony and peace.” I think you’ll agree that, in 2025, “harmony and peace” in America sounds
like a pipe dream. But I remember Reagan’s “Great Rediscovery – a rediscovery of our values
and our common sense.” That’s not just what “we the American people” need, but what “we
the church people” need here and now. A version of the Reagan Revolution. Not politics, but a
rediscovery of the right and best direction for us. Christ’s Church needs the old light of grace!

Let’s find the cracks in our cisterns – idolatry, self-sufficiency, pride, ingratitude, carelessness,
lovelessness – and ask God to help us fix them for His glory. Perhaps our collective prayer
should be: “God, be merciful to us, sinners one and all.” And today is a great day to intercede
for our nation’s leaders. It’s our high calling in Christ (1 Timothy 2:1-4), and no one else can
support our country in this way. The grace of our risen Jesus is stalwart, friends, and it always
shines brighter than the darkest darkness – so let’s not write anybody off.

As rebuilders like Nehemiah, you and I have a vitally important mission before us. As
discouragement comes – and it will – we must choose to stick to the call of God: “We are doing
a great work, and we cannot come down” (6:3 adapted). In a desperately broken world, you
and I are God’s gracious ambassadors and agents of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:11-21 ).

In regard to the church and the nation, my beloved friends, I’m thoroughly convinced that God
desires so much more for us than we desire for ourselves. His spiritual refreshment is ours for
the taking – a gusher that will never run dry. In John 4, when Jesus reveals Himself to the
woman at the well, He offers her “a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” Not just a trickle
from a dirty garden hose, but a flash flood of Christ’s own perfect love and power!

That’s exactly what we need. Here and now. From sea to shining sea.

Back to France – where we started – for just a moment, do you remember the line I quoted
from Dumarsais? “Grace causes the Christian to act.”

That’s where you and I find ourselves. Will we act? Will we speak? Will we stand? Will we love?
In the darkest days of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln – used by God to rescue the nation from
self-destruction – penned the words: “We must work earnestly in the best light Christ gives us,
trusting that so working still conduces to the great ends He ordains.”

Tout est Grâce (All is Grace),

Pastor Charles

Is it possible to grow up without becoming a cynic?

Quipped Archie Bunker sometime in the 1970s, “The Lord might be smilin’ on the sheep, but they still wind up as lamb chops.”

In 1989, Don Henley released a song that climbed to Number 8 on the “Top 100” …

“Remember when the days were long

And rolled beneath a deep blue sky

Didn’t have a care in the world

With Mommy and Daddy standin’ by

But ‘happily ever after’ fails

And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales …”

Later in the song, he repeats that haunting phrase: “We’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales.”  As the song’s aging protagonist mourns the loss of his parents’ marriage and intact family, the ideals of American government and politics, and his own relationship with the girl he loves, his deepest longing is for “a place where we can go that’s still untouched by men.” In other words, he’s grappling with the fact that he must live in the real world – where innocence has been lost.

The song is arresting in its realistic portrayal of growing up, and concludes with the sad reality that the young couple – though they share “that same small town in each of us” – must go their separate ways.

To various and sundry degrees, each of us can relate – in a world that can be marked by crushing and debilitating discouragement – to the struggle to avoid cynicism. Sooner or later, most of us become accustomed to tempering our “wildest hopes and dreams” out of fear that – if we fully abandon ourselves to them – we’ll only sail into the next storm of disappointment and despair.

Sang Henley with profound despondency, “They’re beating plowshares into swords.” And echoes the sobering refrain and the song’s title, “This is the end of the innocence.”

You and I walk around with our own personalized version of, “It ought not be this way.” We’ve seen enough. Already. Teenagers can’t relate to this like someone in their 30s, at whom life has already thrown a number of curveballs. And so it goes as we grow older. Cynicism becomes more and more of a danger. If we’re not careful, we start living by Alexander Pope’s twisted beatitude: “Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.”

I’m not denying that disappointment, on this cursed and fallen planet, feels like a crowded and overpriced resort for which we’ve already paid – we all have to check in there on occasion – but I’m saying that we don’t want to live there. And I don’t believe that God wants us to live there.

When it’s cold and rainy, we need a good story to warm our souls.

Author of “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings,” J.R.R. Tolkien forged a special friendship with C.S. Lewis. Lewis was initially skeptical of Christianity, calling it a fairy tale, to which Tolkien wisely replied, “But Clive, it’s a fairy tale that’s really true.” This conversation proved to be monumental in the reorientation of Professor Lewis’s philosophical and theological presuppositions. Lewis would later write: “When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man, I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

I think Lewis meant by that that we’re all – regardless of our age – secretly longing for a higher and greater story that makes sense of the one we’re seeing with our eyes. That’s why Lewis spoke so frankly to all of us: “Someday you’ll be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”

What you and I need is a beautiful story that speaks purpose into our pain. Friends, we have one: “God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God!” 2 Corinthians 5:21.

Here’s how Sally Lloyd-Jones of Great Britain – now Manhattan – describes the Word of God: “The Bible isn’t mainly about you and what you’re supposed to be doing. It’s about God and what He has done. It’s the story of how God loves His children and comes to rescue them. It’s a Love Story. It’s an Adventure Story. And at the center of the story is a baby – the child upon whom everything would depend. And every single story in the Bible whispers His name.”

We call that grace. Lloyd-Jones goes on to write: “When you lose the story that’s running like a golden stream underneath all the other stories, you’re left with the idea that the Bible is a collection of random-seeming stories about various Bible characters that we’re supposed to learn lessons from – almost like an ‘Aesop’s Fables.’ And a book of rules that God wants us to keep so He will love us. And we lose the glorious truth of the Bible that we were loved before even the beginning of time. That God had a plan. That no matter what, He would never stop loving us … with a wonderful, never-stopping-never-giving-up-unbreaking-always-and-forever love.”

Did you get that?

A wonderful, never-stopping-never-giving-up-unbreaking-always-and-forever love!

Here’s what I want you to consider today. Your disappointments may be hard to stomach, but …

Could it be that your disappointments actually confirm what God says about this world?

It IS broken.

But not for long. For now, we have to feel the sting of damaged relationships … and lost jobs … and friends who weren’t really friends … and bodies that seem to slow with each passing year.

You and I were made for better things. We were made for intimacy and wholeness and truth and everlasting life. The world is broken, but it’s being redeemed. In Christ, it’s all coming! For now, we worship with great expectation. The brokenness here only strengthens our desire for the perfect world that’s promised and well on its way.

So, if you’re disillusioned by this world’s shiny idols … if you’re frustrated by disappointments and despair … if you feel poisoned by fairy-tale promises that’ve left you high and dry – and not just a little cynical – I offer you the perfect antivenom: the good news of the Lord Jesus Christ. The story is 100% true and trustworthy: He is risen!

Sang Don Henley, “I know a place where we can go to wash away this sin.”

So do I.

Pastor Charles

How do we handle the death of a dream?

I remember a catchy song from my childhood – a bit celebrative and a bit cryptic – which was popularized by Cat Stevens. Are you old enough to recall this one?

“Oh very young,
What will you leave us this time?
You’re only dancing on this Earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddy’s best jeans
Denim Blue fading up to the sky
And though you want them to last forever
You know they never will – you know they never will
And the patches make the goodbye harder still”

Let’s face it. It’s exceptionally difficult to process significant chapters of our lives that did not pan out – or that do not appear to be panning out – in the ways that we had hoped, prayed, or expected.

And how do we discover any meaningful purpose in chapters of our lives that are littered with pain? Lost jobs … lost health … lost relationships … lost opportunities … lost loved ones … lost joy. Again, not easy.

And how do we let go of the many mistakes we’ve made along the way, particularly those mistakes that seem larger than life? You know, the ones that still haunt us, even though we’ve tried and tried to let them go. Maybe we’re fixated on a terrible decision that we made, and we can’t seem to get past it. Maybe we sinned grievously on some particular occasion, and the replays of it in our mind are so intense that we think we’ll never be able to forgive ourselves – even though we know that God has promised to forgive us. Maybe we’re dogged by regret upon regret upon regret. Again, fighting through such chapters can seem next to impossible.

What can we do when our longings have turned into losses? When the dreams which once animated our youthfulness now serve only to stab us in the chest …

Here’s what we do: we embrace the character and faithfulness of God.

The Lord, who has promised never to leave us or forsake us, is by no means going to forget us in our broken dreams. His gracious heart is tender toward our losses – including our perceived losses – as He prepares for us a future of unrivaled glory! As He prepares our future for us, He prepares us for our future – and much of that preparation includes teaching us to persevere in faith (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

“We do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison …”

In Christ, you and I don’t have to “lose heart” – because God has promised us that all of our pain has a purpose. In the moment, affliction rarely seems “light” or “momentary,” but God reassures us that – from His perspective – those are accurate descriptors of our heartaches. Even our shattered dreams are no match for God’s relentless grace toward us. When it comes to His Beloved children, our Father has nothing but good up His sleeve.

The Greek word translated “preparing” means “producing, accomplishing, or achieving.” God uses every affliction that you and I endure to produce something magnificent for our future. Suffering – including our having to let go of a dream which we held dear – matures us in Christlike perseverance. It also teaches us to rely more fully on Jesus, enables us to comfort others in their struggles and sorrows, and refines our faith in the important ways in which God knows we must grow and change.

Friends, this hope promised in the Scriptures applies not just to extraordinary suffering like the Apostle Paul had to endure, but to all of the ways in which you and I are learning to trust God in the middle of the night. When we don’t understand God’s plan. When we’d give our right arm to be able to go back and change what we said or did. When we feel riddled by “What if?” … or “if only” … or “Why?”

When we let go of a dream, or when we finally invite God to rewrite the script that we had planned, our suffering becomes surrender. Holy surrender. When we turn to the Lord in our pain and confusion … when we praise Him instead of cursing Him … when we trust His heart rather than malign His love, we find ourselves stronger in revolutionary life-changing faith than we ever imagined.

“… we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

Unlike even our favorite pair of blue jeans, such things never fade.

Pastor Charles

I apologize for the graphic photo. I lifted it from a disturbing video of a kindergarten graduation ceremony in the Middle East. In the video, parents cheer as their Muslim children onstage perform a mock execution of Jews. Running in choreographed fashion with their simulated weapons in hand, the children chant: “We are not afraid!” Then, toward the end of the routine, the lead teacher exclaims, “Hurry up, my child – die as a martyr!”

I’m going to call this what it is: child abuse.

We who uphold the authority of the Scriptures must recognize that that the hatred of God’s image-bearers – the hatred of any people group – is an assault on God Himself. Particularly, antisemitism is rooted in hatred of God. Such hatred isn’t new, but in fact stretches all the way back to Genesis 3:15. Before time began, God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit entered into a covenant to bring salvation to the world. That gracious plan was to pay the penalty for our sin and crush its power. In human history, because of our fallen nature, God’s eternal promise brought indescribable hostility between God’s light and Satan’s darkness.

God’s seed line included Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all who would follow in their footsteps – including Gentiles who’d be brought into the covenant and the family tree – by faith – wondrously and marvelously.

“The cosmic powers over this present darkness” (Ephesians 6:12) have always hated God’s plan, and done anything and everything in a ceaseless attempt to stop it. That’s why you and I are not simply engaged in a battle of ideologies. We’re in the midst of a spiritual war.

We’re up against demonically inspired hatred, and “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood.”

I suggest that the most significant distinction between the Qur’an and the Bible is Christ’s death for us. “In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). Islam’s “Allah” is widely claimed to be “all-forgiving, most merciful” (Surah 24:22). On the surface it sounds loving, but it’s a phony and unreachable forgiveness – because it’s a “forgiveness” with no atoning sacrifice. If God is holy and just – as indeed He is – then the only way of forgiveness is by a perfectly righteous substitute. When Jesus died, signifying the potency and permanence of His all-sufficient sacrifice on our behalf, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Matthew 27:51).

Imagine a hardened murderer being brought before a judge who renders this verdict: “You’re forgiven because I’m merciful.” That wouldn’t be a righteous judge, but an immoral judge – to release the wicked apart from justice. There’s no real love without real justice! Friends, it is the Cross of Christ which most magnifies the love of God! It’s good news for the whole world: Grace enables a perfect God to love a wicked rebel – like me – with a love of the greatest magnitude!

It is this very love with which you and I are called to love a lost and dying world that’s shrouded in spiritual darkness.

The Welshman Reese Howells (1879 – 1950)  learned to pray passionately against the prevailing spiritual darkness of his day. He wrote: “The cost of true intercession is a broken heart.” As God broke the heart of Mr. Howells to pray urgently for the ongoing work of the Great Commission, He used his prayers to advance the gospel in a broken world. Reese learned that no believer’s prayer can by snuffed out as we’re abiding in Christ, and that we’re called – for God’s glory – to pray dangerous prayers!

Friends, when you and I pray as Christ taught us, “Your kingdom come” (Matthew 6:10), we’re calling down God’s perfect will and power to penetrate a world in conflict. No situation we face is too insignificant. Howell’s context included the evils of Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini – and a world swept into war – but in that very crucible of darkness he learned to trust the Lord to do what only He can. That’s what I want for you and me. Nothing less.

As bad news of the Third Reich’s advance came to them each day, Reese and his band of prayer warriors pressed into prayer for God’s highest purposes to prevail. More bad news: When the Battle of Britain broke out, the Royal Air Force pilots were outnumbered four to one. It should have been a resounding loss. But, God’s people. When the Nazi advance was mysteriously turned away, Winston Churchill said of the pilots who so strangely succeeded: “Never has so much been owed by so many to so few.”

I believe that prayer won.

And I believe that even the immense hatred of our day – yes, of our day – is no match for our God.

You see, you and I aren’t fighting hate with hate. We’re fighting hate with love. God’s love. The love that’s come so freely to us in our Lord Jesus Christ. A love so divinely radical that it loves enemies. A love that’s always shared with people who don’t deserve it – people like us. Evil begets evil, but grace changes everything! Hatred comes across as ferociously powerful, but in the end it’s hollow and impotent. When it comes to the love of Jesus, hatred must stand down.

Real love – God’s love – can topple the hardest human heart. Sooner or later, gospel grace will crush every false religion. Redeeming love will conquer, fully and finally! “And He shall reign forever and ever” (Revelation 11:15). To that glorious end, we pray – and we stand!

In Christ, you and I face evil – personally and globally – with a strength that isn’t naturally ours. That’s why we must never give up the fight. Never, ever. “For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds” (2 Corinthians 10:3-4).

I believe that prayer still wins.

May Christ transform the heart of every child in the tragic video. And every teacher. And every mom and dad. And every Muslim. And every Jew. And every one of us.

Pastor Charles

The practice of my beloved congregation is to observe the Lord’s Supper every Sunday morning. This is woven into our gathered worship, and serves as a beautiful expression of our commitment to our Lord Jesus Christ and to each other.

You may be thinking, “Surely that frequency of Communion must get monotonous, and lose its spiritual significance.” I can relate to that concern, as it was mine for years, but nothing could be further from the truth.

It’s hard to overlook the fact that the early church assembled for the Lord’s Supper on the first day of every week. The historical support for this is strong. For example, the “Didache,” written between A.D. 50 and 150, offers evidence of the church’s weekly Communion. In the middle of the second century, in Justin Martyr’s “First Apology,” he describes Sunday worship. Again we find that, among God’s people, worship on the Lord’s Day always included the Eucharist (literally, “thanksgiving”). Further evidence for weekly participation in the Supper is found in the writings of many of the Church Fathers. Centuries later, Charles Spurgeon promoted the weekly observance of the ordinance, not as dogma but as rich spiritual practice.

But, as compelling as those historical examples may be, they’re not my strongest reasons to advocate for weekly Communion. My best reasons are what the Lord’s Supper accomplishes in me …

1. It reminds me that it’s not about me, first and foremost. God is writing a larger story. By grace through faith in Christ, I’m drawn into that amazing story, but the story is about God’s Son — whose death, burial, and resurrection are central to every chapter of human history. The Lord’s Supper anchors me, again and again, in the centrality of Christ’s gospel. It’s the true story of my complete forgiveness and my superabundant new life in Jesus. For my continuing growth in grace, I’m in continual need of heavenly bread — I must feed on nothing less than the bread of life.

2. It reminds me that God is deeply invested in the most intricate details of my circumstances — even the ones which confound me to my core. In the wondrous meal, I remember that God made me not just physical but spiritual in nature — and that Christ has made me new in Himself. In a gorgeous and unparalleled tradition, rooted in the miracle and joy of Passover for all with eyes to see and ears to hear, I recall that God delights to commune with me — to visit me in the simple sharing of bread and wine. My sins have been “passed over,” and the soul-stirring sacrament alerts me to God’s constant presence and nearness. Because of Christ, I’m welcome at the table, where I encounter both mystery and security in His incessant invitation: “Come!”

3. It reminds me that I need other people, desperately. In the sharing in and partaking of the common elements, as I experience my eternal connection to the body of Christ which the Supper so powerfully reinforces — as the physical and the spiritual come together in the church — I’m reminded that I’m only a part of what God is orchestrating in His world. My gifts must join forces with those of my brothers and sisters for God’s power to be manifested in this season as it should be for His glory!

4. It reminds me that everything is going to be just fine in the end. Only at a banquet hosted and served by the risen Jesus can my proud “intellect” be put gently but firmly in its proper place. Such undeserved grace as I have received so freely from Christ defies human understanding — including my understanding. At this table, the marvelous hand of God falls again upon my shoulder to prod me onward in the mission of grace and truth. I can’t fully articulate the extent of the encouragement, but it’s as real as the air I breathe.

​Though I try to “examine myself” as the Scriptures instruct, coming to Christ’s table is not ultimately about how I feel about me. It’s about how Christ feels about me. So it’s my contention that, for all of us who are in Christ, Communion is an irreplaceable gift from God. We come with nothing, and we receive everything. Even when life seems to have beaten us down into discouragement, disappointment, and despair, we’re upheld and nourished — week by week — by the Supper of our Lord. Body and blood.

As we eat and drink, strangely but surely — together yet individually — we’re humbled by redeeming love. We rediscover that we’re no better or worse than each other, and that none of us can feed ourselves. A simple yet profound celebration sustains us until the day when we’ll find ourselves face to face with the One who poured the first cup — and who poured out Himself for us.

Friends, He’s still pouring!

I write this not to impugn the practice of any other congregation, but simply to encourage you to enlarge your view of the beauty and efficacy of the Lord’s Supper for the health, vitality, and unity of the people of God.

“For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes” (1 Corinthians 11:26).

Pastor Charles

Dear Joshua,

As you know, Mom and I named you after the great military leader who succeeded Moses. We’re so glad that we did, as you have proven to be – like the Joshua before you – “strong and courageous.” We couldn’t be prouder of you.

As you head off this week for your graduate studies at the Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A & M University, always know that our love goes with you. You are never alone. More than our support for you, you go with God, Josh. As the Lord reminded the other Joshua, He reminds you: “I will not leave you or forsake you … Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:5, 9).

Mom and I are excited that you’ve chosen to go into public service, and particularly that you’ll focus on Homeland Security. You were made for this! You weren’t yet two years old on that ominous day, and I remember holding you in my arms when I first heard the shocking news and saw the Twin Towers collapse – having no idea that the unfathomable tragedy that was 9-11 would pave the way stealthily for your life’s work. Your “calling” is becoming your vocation, and that’s exactly what the word means. Our sovereign God had a plan for you.

You’re now walking out that plan, Josh, and it will be wonderful to keep watching it unfold. I’m sure that it won’t be an easy road – no good road ever is – but we’re praying that God will make your greatest delight be to serve Him on that road. It’s the road already marked out for you, and only for you.

One temptation you will face is the urge to forge a better plan for yourself than God’s plan. I’ve been there. Don’t fall for that. When God closes a door that you wanted open – and He will – remember that He’s the only one who knows the end from the beginning. Nothing is a surprise to Him, and He’s orchestrating the Master plan. That’s the one plan you want, ultimately – even with its disappointments, sorrows, tears, mysteries, failures, and pain. You’ll find that failures don’t remain failures when you learn from them.

In the end, God’s plan for you will be absolutely glorious. You can trust Him. He’s worthy of your trust, and will prove Himself to be trustworthy in every way.

Joshua, there are so many things that I admire about you. You’re tough and you’re tender – at the same time. That’s how God wired you, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Some people will not understand you, and some will misread you, but many will be endeared to you. You’re an excellent friend to others, and the relationships which you value will enrich your life in days and years ahead. You’re much smarter than you realize, and your keen ability to understand more than what’s stated – and to read between the lines – will serve you well in a world where truth and discernment are rare commodities. Your design, temperament, gifts, and passions are uniquely and perfectly suited for what God will call you to do.

For His glory.

I want you to know that Mom and I didn’t name you “Joshua” simply because we admired the ancient leader. We named you “Joshua” because the name tells an even bigger story – it points to the marvelous gospel of grace. “Joshua” means “the Lord saves” – just like the name “Jesus.” Your name speaks the best news this world can ever hear: that God the Father, despite our utter rebellion, placed our sin upon His only begotten Son – who lived and died in our place. He paid our debt in full. And on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures, God raised Jesus to life! He has opened heaven for us, and lives now by His Spirit in and through the faithful.

Never forget that your name speaks light and life, and that – when it comes to God’s story – Christ is the only true Hero.

The day that you were born – when we first stared into those captivating blue eyes – you captured our heart. And, as long as Mom and I have breath, we are on Team Josh! You are always in our prayers.

Thank you for allowing me to be part of this next chapter of watching you grow and flourish – even if more from a distance. I execute my responsibilities quite imperfectly – as you well know – but being your father is one of my greatest honors. It’s a gift and a joy that I never deserved.

Keep being strong and courageous.

I love you, Son.

Dad

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?”

The strong words of Jeremiah 17:9 are penetrating. But – let’s be honest – we don’t tend to operate as if those words were true. Somehow and somewhere along the way, most Americans jettisoned the clear Biblical teaching that humankind is inherently evil, and we’ve thoroughly embraced the opposite perspective – now believing that most people are intrinsically good. Such a rejection of God’s truth does not come without consequences, and we’re feeling those consequences in every corner of society.

I would remind you of the rich young man who knelt before Jesus and asked a loaded question: “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answered with a needed correction: “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone” (Mark 10:17-18). There you have it, straight from the Lord’s mouth. You and I are not good by nature. But, slowly but surely, we’ve been duped into trusting the human heart.

“Follow your heart!” The line has echoed in a thousand songs and movies. That idea has sunk so deeply into the fabric of our culture that we assume it’s good advice. At this point, friends, “follow your heart” is a linchpin in the metanarrative of the Western world. As we slide into a completely emotionally driven understanding of reality, we face an increasing inability to determine any moral center. The unspoken rule is this: rationality must give way to emotion. Wrong! Unless we want Hollywood to determine virtue, this is our call to discernment.

Here’s the deal: because we’re trusting blindly in our emotions – we’re giving ourselves way more credit than we deserve. We think that we can fix the world by fixing politics, for example. Please don’t get me wrong. We are called to light and salt – to have an illuminating and preserving influence on the world for Christ – but presuming that we can change people without the gospel is a dead-end road to nowhere.

Pride corrupts everyone and everything. We seem to have forgotten this. Look no further than God’s Word …

The Sadducees were more liberal, so they denied the more unexplainable parts of the Bible because those passages didn’t line up with their progressive worldview. Ring any bells? When the time was right, Jesus let ‘em have it. He let them know that they had no right to pick and choose what portions of the Scriptures to uphold. By so doing, they were eclipsing God’s power and glory. (See Matthew 22:23-33.)

The Pharisees were more conservative, so they distinguished themselves as the arbiters and gatekeepers of public purity – but they did it in a manner that was arrogant and harsh. Ring any bells? When the time was right, Jesus let ‘em have it. He let them know that they had no right to cherry-pick the sins of others in such a way that the Pharisees came off as righteous in and of themselves. (See Matthew 23:1-36.)

I would remind you that Jesus had trouble with the Right and the Left. Both missed the mark. Both showed signs of malignant self-righteousness. Both attacked Christ when they deemed it expedient to do so. Sometimes willing to set aside longstanding differences between them, the two sides would on occasion bury the hatchet and join forces – when they perceived the perfect opportunity to bring Jesus down. “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows,” wrote Shakespeare.

Pride doesn’t keep proper boundaries. But God does. He who made everything, seen and unseen, has called us to trust Him with what’s broken about our world – though we often find it far easier to attach our hopes to anything or anyone else. Only our sovereign, holy, and gracious God can produce the needed heart-level transformations in the ways in which people – His image bearers – regard and treat one another. Especially in a prolonged season of division and derision like 2025, we’re in desperate need of Christ’s wisdom, Christ’s righteousness, and Christ’s love.

We need Christ’s heart. Without Him, ours is entirely unreliable.

Ultimately, the problem of our human nature is our misplaced trust in ourselves. Sadly, we’re trusting in us. It’s a fulfillment of the Apostle Paul’s prediction of full-blown moral and societal upheaval, which he described quite fittingly like this (2 Timothy 3:1-9): “People will be lovers of self … always learning and never able to arrive at a knowledge of the truth.”

Lovers of SELF. Lord, keep us out of that number!

Friends, drama is universal. Somebody somewhere is always upset about something. Sometimes the only perceptible thing we have in common is our shared humanity: “Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all” (Ecclesiastes 9:11). We’d be foolish to abandon God’s perspective on human nature in order to fashion humanistic idols for ourselves. False gods never deliver!

God is working out all things for our good and for His glory. We can take that to the bank. And our God is good. We can trust Him, even when we don’t know precisely what He’s doing.

But we can’t be Him. And we can’t do His job.

My favorite quote from Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s “The Gulag Archipelago” is his poignant description of fallen human nature on a fallen planet. Today I submit that we’d all do well to remember: “The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either – but right through every human heart.”

Pastor Charles