The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
Psalm 23:1-4

The poet “fear[s] no evil” even in “the valley of the shadow of death,” but not just because her Shepherd has a rod and staff.

It is because her Shepherd guides her “along right paths.”

Even when the path leads through the valley of the shadow. Even then, it must be “right” because her Shepherd leads her there.

Even in the valley of the shadow of death, she trusts that her Shepherd will find green pastures and still waters to refresh her soul.

She trusts...

Some people think of winter as cold, dark, depressing, and gloomy.

I’ve never felt that way about winter.

As far back as my memory will take me, winter has always been a season of light and warmth.

The way I see it, God made a whole season in which it is natural to fatten up, gather close, and rest a lot. In winter, we build up the stores of energy that we will ignite like fireworks come summertime.

God, in wisdom, made every season for a reason. And enjoyment is one of the reasons in every season.

If God is the artist who imagined winter, then winter surely has as much joy and life in it as the warm seasons do.

Even this pandemic winter of deepest darkness and isolation.

December 21 marks the Winter Solstice. Or, as my mom called it: “The shortest day of the year.”

“This is the darkest day of the year,” she said. “But starting tomorrow, the days will start getting a little...

Since our household is “staying in” for Christmas this year, my wife asked me what really, really special thing I would like for Christmas dinner.

“Turducken!” I said. “I haven’t had it since college.”

But, alas, the price of turducken is much higher than the enjoyment we would get from eating duck inside chicken inside turkey.

So, we’re going to settle. I have a little history of coaxing the flavor and juiciness of a duck out of a mere turkey. We’ll make it work.

But what I really want for Christmas is cold turkey.

I’m not talking about leftovers. Even though I will say that Christmas dinner leftovers are better than Christmas dinner.

By “cold turkey,” I mean I wish for 2020 to be the year that I break my worst Christmas habits. The pandemic is the chance of a lifetime for me to make that wish come true.

The older I get, the more I associate Christmas with extraordinary...

What does it feel like to be a Christian?

I’ve been a Christian my whole life and nobody ever asked me that.

I’ve never asked that of myself.

I’ve never even thought about that question until just now.

People have asked me what it means to be a Christian.

I ponder that myself several times a day, every day.

In the fundamentalist Christian church that raised me, we obsessed about how to become a Christian and how to stay a Christian.

But I don’t recall anyone ever asking what it feels like to be a Christian.

One of my old Sunday school teachers, Mrs. Abels, appears beside me now.

“Why, Brad,” she smiles. “You know the answer. Being a Christian feels like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”

“Ah, Mrs. Abels,” I say. “Good to see you again after all these years. You look exactly the same. Yes, of course, the ‘Fruit of...

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age" (Gospel of Matthew 28:16-20).

Christians know these five verses as “The Great Commission.”

In the Church of Christ, the branch of the Christian family tree on which my leaf grows, these five verses may be the most well-worn words in the Bible.

But even though I heard the elders, preachers, and Sunday school teachers recite the Great Commission week after week for many years, I don’t know if I ever...

The devil is not dumb enough to tempt you with vice; he is smart enough to tempt you with virtue.

The devil does not need to waste energy trying to get you to drink, eat an entire carton of ice cream, hook up with someone from Tinder, look at porn, or spend an entire day watching ‘Keeping Up with the Kardashians.’

Your body is programmed to eat, sleep, and get off. It needs no help from the devil. On your own, you’ll find an excuse to scratch your itches.

Ah, but when you feel especially virtuous, beware! The devil is near.

When you hear praise for being one of the “good guys,” look out!

When you are called upon to defend what is right (the implication being that you are right), stop, look, and listen!

When the cleanliness and decency of your own life makes it easy to see the dirtiness and immorality of others, watch out!

Think: Virtuous people acting in the name of virtue...

Dan Huckleberry and I were the top boys on the block.

We were the oldest kids in the “gang” that roved the alleys and backyards of Heltman Avenue. That meant we picked what the rest of the kids played.

Sometimes, we played baseball in old Miss McElhaney’s backyard.

Sometimes, we played G.I. Joe or Transformers in my backyard.

Sometimes, we went on “patrol,” riding our bikes down and up the alleys looking for something. I say “something,” because we didn’t know what we were looking for. We would know it when we saw it!

Sometimes, we played “war.” The neighborhood around Heltman was “open range” and nobody had a fence. None of the homeowners (except Mrs. McLain) minded our epic battles spilling into their backyards.

Life was good in the neighborhood.

Until one summer, a new kid moved on the block.

His name was Ryan. He was only a third grader, but that is what made him...

If the Bible didn’t exist, I think Stephen Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People would be my guide book for life.

The fifth habit is: Seek first to understand, then to be understood.

I confess that I forget this habit sometimes and everyone pays the price.

And if you think I’m writing about this today because I forgot this habit earlier this week, well, you understand.

Go back and look at that habit again and this time note the comma.

That comma stands for something that has to come between the first part of the habit and second part of the habit.

It’s the choice to risk misunderstanding.

Seeking to understand someone is the easier part of the habit. The fun part. People are always happy to answer questions about themselves. People enjoy talking about how they feel and what they think.

But at some point, for a real relationship to grow into a source of goodness...

One Christmas, when I was a kid, I asked for a “rock tumbler.”

Looking through the Sears Christmas catalog, I saw the picture of those colorful, shiny, smooth rocks. I wanted to feel their glassy skins rolling around in my palm.

What I wanted even more was to see magic.

Dad said that I could put plain old gravel from the driveway into the rock tumbler. After a long time tumbling around and around in there, the gravel would come out like gemstones.

Oh, I wanted to see that!

Nobody got me the rock tumbler, but I still think about it.

I think about it on mornings like this one. Yesterday, I sent a note to a colleague to invite her to be a partner on a project. Her reply came across as icy and suspicious of my motives. She seemed to take what I wrote as an attempt to control her rather than an invitation to work with her. I felt hurt and misunderstood.

I think about that rock...

I was a poor distance runner most of my life.

No, that’s not quite right. I am a poor distance runner.

For most of my life, however, I always stopped running before the term “distance” could apply to what I was doing.

In a college physical education class, I had to log six miles of running each week. Three nights a week, my friend, Jay, and I went to the football stadium to run laps around the quarter-mile track. Neither one of us was in running shape when we started, so we did more walking than running.

But by the end of that semester, we could finish eight laps (two miles) around the track at a slow jog.

That’s as far as I could go. The sensation I got when running was that an iron cage was tightening around my chest and my lungs were turning to paper.

Over the next few years, I tried to take up running again as a New Year’s resolution. The weight gain I longed for in high...