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We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Americans know this line as perhaps the single most important phrase in their Declaration of Independence. Indeed, that phrase, more than any other, may be what Americans might call their national creed.

But when the delegates to the Continental Congress began signing their names to the Declaration of Independence on August 2, 1776, this “creed” was little more than hope. For one, the existence of the United States as an independent nation did not become a sure thing until the Treaty of Paris in 1783. But, more than that, the truths that the Declaration claimed to be “self-evident,” the rights it claimed to be “unalienable” for “all men,” in...

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I finally found a word to express why our national politics are such a danger to Christianity and the church of Christ in the United States.

That word is pessimism, which is “the tendency to see the worst aspects of things or believe that the worst will happen; a lack of hope or confidence in the future.”

Both political parties have their fans pigging out on pessimism these days. I see more than a few Christians eating it up and regurgitating it.

Why is this a danger to Christianity and the church of Christ?

First, it pre-*occupies us with something other than what occupied Jesus, who taught us to pray: “*Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Our Christ did not teach us to pray to “make America great again” or to “save democracy”; our Christ taught us to pray with urgency for the kingdom of God to come.

No...

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We are running out of air.

From the first breath we take, we are counting down to our last.

We inhale and exhale only so many times. Then we stop.

We use some of those breaths to communicate. We exhale words. We breathe out air and meaning.

So why waste our breath if we only get so much of it?

Why waste our words if we only get so many of them?

The Bible is clear that breathing out words is power.

The prime example is what happens when God speaks. In the Book of Genesis, Chapter One, the breath (or “wind”) of God is over the “void” and it is by that breath that God speaks the nothing into something: Life!

Later, the Gospel of John imagines the story of Jesus as a new Genesis:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him...

Our Father in heaven,
Hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
As we also have forgiven our debtors.
And do not bring us to the time of trial,
But rescue us from the evil one.
For the kingdom and the power and the glory are yours forever. Amen.
–Jesus Christ in the Gospel of Matthew 6:9-13

If Jesus is the Son of God, then it is right for him to pray: “My Father.”

But he prays: “Our Father.”

Out of all the family and friends who hold Travis Irwin in high esteem and love him with deep affection, only three can ever call him their father. That is because he had only three children: My two sisters and me. My brothers-in-law or my wife could call him “Dad” as some in-laws do, but he is not the man who fathered them.

Travis Irwin is my father and my sisters’ father; he is not...

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I turned 48 this week.

Birthdays make me think hard about life. What about you?

On this birthday, three men are on my mind.

This first is my great grandfather, Bethel Irwin. I don’t know what he was doing when he was 48 years old, but it had to be bad. He left my great grandmother alone with nine kids. He was a drinker, philanderer, and, as the family story goes, a pimp.

So far, I’ve made better choices than Papaw Bethel, but I have his DNA. I’m capable of doing whatever he did (and don’t think I haven’t thought about it).

The second man on my mind is my grandfather, Walter Irwin. Papaw did a lot of good things for a lot of people, but I think he wanted to do great things. Things that would get him into a hall of fame.

Papaw was eight years old when his father left. A boy that age does not suffer that kind of wound without it scarring him for...

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I’m writing this two days before Christmas 2023.

Yesterday, we found out that my son, Daniel, has more than a cold; he has COVID. He’ll get over it. Our plans for Christmas, however, will not.

This Christmas was never going to be “normal” like the Christmases in our memories. For my wife, it is the third Christmas since her dad died. For me, it is the second without my dad and the first without my grandmama.

We already knew that my wife’s sister and her family would not make it to town for Christmas Day this year as they did in the past.

Still, this Christmas seemed to be setting up for feeling kind of normal.

Well, not now.

We dodged COVID in 2020, 2021, and 2022. We were overdue.

Last night, I took a walk after dark. The folks in our neighborhood go all out to decorate their homes for Christmas. It seems like every house has...

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I like to go for quiet walks alone after dark.

Though my route is safe, I am often followed by stalkers.

They are the troubles of life that haunt me on a lonely road on a still night.

When I was young, I tried to outrun them.

When I could not outrun them, I tried to exorcise them like demons.

The wisdom of my age, however, is that I know I can neither cast out the troubles of life nor outrun them.

They will always be with me. Wherever I go, there they will be, too.

We live in a culture that believes that if a person can gain enough power and make enough money, he or she can live free of trouble.

It’s funny (not funny) that most of us don’t believe that in our heart of hearts, but we can’t think of any better way to live. So we just go with it. We spend our lives trying to “move up” because we think that by “moving up” we might just be one...

Since 2020, grief, a word I rarely used in my first 45 years, became the biggest word in the “word cloud” of my life.

I grieved the loss of “normal” when the pandemic hit. I grieved losing the illusion that “normal” is not so fragile that a breath can blow it away.

Cancer killed my dad in 2022. I had a bedside seat to his suffering. I heard and saw him struggle to take his last breaths. Dad’s death blew a hole in my world. The way he died traumatized me.

Earlier this year, a brother in Christ who I also thought to be a friend, fired me from my job for no real reason and with no warning. For 29 years, I gave my best as a donor, employee, student, and volunteer at the Christian institution where I hoped and planned to minister for the rest of my career. It took less than five minutes for that institution to let me go. And not just let me go, but in a way that it would jettison bad...

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Christians in my tradition love Bible stories, but we’re not always good at them. We tend to always look for life, or moral, applications.

Anyone who ever read Judges 19 - 21 knows how ridiculous that can get.

But I think that many, if not most, Bible stories are not in there to teach moral lessons; they’re in there to be mirrors through which we see our own lives.

For example, it is easy for a comfortable American Christian to listen to the story of the Exodus and criticize the Hebrews for failing to trust God.

It is easy to make the moral of the story: “See, you should always trust God.”

The kindergartners at Vacation Bible School can get that point.

But the story of the Exodus is in the Bible as a mirror through which we see that we are as disobedient and untrusting as the Hebrews. In the Exodus story we see our own condition before God.

...

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Have you ever had a “first Christmas without [insert the name of a family member or friend who died]?”

When people asked you how you were doing, what did you say to them?

I suppose what you felt and said depended on the person who died and your relationship to her or him. If you felt that your relationship with her or him was good and whole, maybe you felt some contentment and gratitude in your grief. If you felt that the person died before you had a chance to make things right or whole, maybe regret made your grief bitter.

When my dad died about seven months ago, our relationship was complete, full, whole. Neither of us had regrets. We didn’t leave anything unsaid. As sad and traumatic as it felt to go through it, our parting was as good as a parting can be.

But I am sad. Very sad.

At Christmas, my sister-in-law asked about my state of...