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I’ve been on something of a steady reading and writing kick this summer, and so I thought, “Why not make that the focus of this week’s News From the Frontlines?” Here are five articles and two videos on all things The Odyssey, classic literature, reading, writing, journaling, and art. Happy reading! And, in all your reading, remember the words of Charles Spurgeon who once said, “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” News From the Frontlines: Recommended Reading, Listening, & Watching Reviewing Christopher Nolan’s “Odyssey”: The Greater Odysseus Is Coming I’m currently working on an article myself about The Odyssey and the Second Coming of Christ after having recently read through Homer’s epic poem, so stay tuned for that sometime soon. In the meantime, I appreciated Owen Strachan’s thoughts on Christopher Nolan’s recent adaptation (which, despite its flaws, I thought was excellent). “Nolan is right, then: both societally and individually, we need salvation. But it will not come by striking off the head of the gods—by turning, that is, to atheism and deception and the rule of the weak by the strongest. No, we need a greater deliverer. We need a warrior-savior who purchases our redemption and the cosmos’s healing by his blood. Thankfully, we have him; he is not fictional, but gloriously real. The greater Odysseus is coming.” Klavens On The Culture: The Odyssey Review Furthermore, Andrew Klaven of The Daily Wire has a new segment titled “The Klavens on Culture” where he and his son, who is himself a classicist, discuss all things art, culture, and Christianity. The episode is about 45-minutes long, but I quite enjoyed their commentary on The Odyssey (both the poem and the new film). 15 Great Books to Get You Started Over at his Substack, East and Eden, Taylor Combs lists 15 great books for anyone who wants to get into reading classic literature but may be unsure of where to begin. How many of these classics have you read? “The decline of reading—summed up in the fact that last year, significantly more American adults participated in sports gambling than read a single, solitary book—will be detrimental to our society. But it doesn’t have to happen. We can fight it. And even if we shouldn’t expect those efforts to be successful on a broad scale, we can invest in our own lives, our families, and our communities to rekindle a love of reading that will only contribute to a more beautiful vision of the good life.” How to Read More Books And, once you’ve had a taste for truly great books, Gavin Ortlund then explains in this video how you can keep on reading with five helpful strategies. How to Set Up a Pocket Notebook You’ll Use Every Day This is a really neat idea, and one that my wife and I are aiming to commit to on a weekly basis—in part to reduce time on our phones, but largely in an effort to spend more time reading, writing, and flexing our creative muscles. “I use a pocket notebook so that every aspect of my life is nurtured and acted upon. I don’t want my days to drift by, so knowing what I need to do and what I want to pay attention to is incredibly important to me. Your life is the sum of the attention you give to it. Give it a lot of attention.” Rediscovering the Joy of Writing: Six Lessons for a Lifelong Habit Writing for Desiring God, Scott Hubbard meditates on God’s good gift of writing for the good of others and the glory of Christ. “Once upon a time, you loved to write. Maybe as a child you spent hours in your room, scribbling imaginative stories. Or maybe you picked up poetry in high school. Or maybe during college you took refuge in a private journal, your prayers and outpoured hopes finding their home on paper. But then somewhere along the way, the joy faded.” How I Write So Fast (And You Can Too!) “People ask me all the time how I can write so quickly. I want to see more Christians write, and I don’t think I am great at it, but lately people have been asking me, how does a Father of 4, a Pastor, Biblical Counselor, 12th grade Greek teacher and PhD student write so much. The short answer is that the writing itself is rarely where I start. Speed is usually the byproduct of preparation. Most of the heavy lifting happens long before I ever open a blank document.” Photo by Rey Seven, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

A small voice broke the silence with a question, “Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?” Frodo’s words, whispered as they were, seemed to be snatched up by the wilderness around him. As Frodo spoke, his cloaked form began to slowly lead the company from the gates of Rivendell in the gathering light. The journey’s end is of little present concern to Frodo, for there is much road that lies between here and home. For the moment, his question is simple: “left or right?” In the pale light of a new day dawning, another voice could suddenly be heard, one that was soft, strong, and sure. “Left,” answered Gandalf with calm assurance as though he had walked this very road before. His large hand steadied itself on Frodo's shoulder, guiding his path to the left. I look to the right and I see a road paved with grand cobblestones, innumerable in number. These stones carry a winding pathway beyond the bend of an ancient oak; the path is wide, well-worn, and crowded. The oaks begin to grow in company as the road goes ever on; countless trees stand as sentinels of a past age upon the lip of the road, each adorned with the flame and flicker of fall upon their leaves. Though, many of their leaves have fallen, and many are falling still. The road to the right is carpeted with leaves of red, orange, yellow, and auburn, as though the very path were consumed with flame. The road flows like a river through the midst of the forest, ebbing to and fro, sloping ever downwards, gradually, imperceptibly, decidedly. As the road bows ever downwards, a chill begins to sweep through the air; the warmth of summer in this part of the forest has long since faded, and the flame of autumn has been all but snuffed out. The dark of winter steadily approaches, and a mist lays upon the furthest reaches of the land. Further down, dead and dying oaks innumerable litter the road; hollow husks of the saplings they once were, far from the tender hands of the Gardener’s pruning. Suddenly, the road to the left beckons me. I turn my face from the gathering dread of the road to the right towards the path that lies on my left. The road is not clothed in fair cobblestone; it is a harsh, uneven, and narrower path tangled with the roots and brambles of oaks far more ancient than those of the right. The journey to the left is cloaked with the shadows of nightfall, broken now and again by sunlight and starlight as it makes its way past the broken branches of those timeless oaks. These oaks are solid and steadfast. Bruised, bent, and beaten as they may be, they yet blossom. Ages of wandering in the shadows and whispers of the forest have not robbed them of their many leaves; their roots are dug deep, immovable. There is one oak, the grandest of them all, that catches my eye as I proceed along this leftward path. Only, despite his grandeur, this oak is now alone; around him lay the splintered stumps of his friends that left him many winters ago, leaving him to wander the years ahead in solace. He is battered and alone in a forest that no longer remembers his name, living among saplings that do not rightly appreciate his great height as it towers above them. Nonetheless, he aches outwards and upwards with his remaining branches, broken by the wind as they are, towards the heavens. He stands aching with all his might for that wood beyond the world, yet ever faithful and firm here below until he is told otherwise. For though he longs for home, he is sure to keep his branches, like wings, outwards as well as upwards, overshadowing those young saplings under his shadow. There are other trees in the forest as well, many others. These oaks bear fruit in and out of season, drinking deeply from the streams of water that run along their roots. Whether in the scorching and suffocating heat of summer, or in the desolate waste of winter, their leaves remain. And when their leaves do begin to wrinkle and fall, they do not spurn the gentle hands of the Gardener who is ever at work in the forest. Rather, they let Him prune as He desires, for His heart is that they bear fruit: and much of it. Though this road is narrow and filled with many unexpected turns, I yet feel the strength of One who is mightier than I upon my shoulder, beckoning me onwards, upwards, and to the left. The road is not crowded, but it is by no means empty. I catch the patter of feet behind me, and the rumbling of pots and pans upon the backs of my fellow travelers: my brothers and sisters, my fellow pilgrims, my friends. We are wandering through a forest that is at odds with ourselves. We see the other trees, the beauty of the wildlife, and the glory of the rolling hills and we recognize them as lovely, and rightly so. Yet, the hearts of oaks and men groan for something more. A world destined for decay, with its harsh winters and heavy winds, serves to untether us from any allure it may have had when we were but saplings. The trees of this world, our Father’s world, cast long shadows to the foot of that wood beyond this world: our home. To take up residence in this world with any sense of permanence is to pitch your tent among the shifting shadows of nightfall. Strive with all your might then, regardless of the soul’s aching, to press onwards. Firmly planted not in this world, or its comforts, but in Him, the One who planted you where you now find yourself. The forest around you will begin to change; the sense of home and comfort you once drew from those quiet hills and trickling brooks may even become cold and strange. The whisper of the wind among the leaves of friends you knew for many long years will one day cease, leaving the forest a much quieter place than you remembered it, or ever thought possible. The bark upon your trunk may begin to grow brittle, the strength of your bones may wane, but the roots you dug long ago in the dawn of your youth will stand, firmly planted in the palms of Him who has raised every lily of the field, oak in the forest, and star in the cosmos. Though the ages may have waned against you, though the wind blew vehemently for many long nights, you will yet stand, endure, and make it safely home because of Him. Photo by Johannes Plenio, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

La La Land I suppose we all have certain linguistic ruts we fall into if we’re not careful. This can be as simple as an overused word or a peculiar turn of phrase that repeatedly weaves its way into our conversations with others—sometimes, indeed most times, unbeknownst to us entirely until someone brings it to our attention. For example, when I first began dating my wife and spending time around her family, they were quick to notice that “pleasant” was a choice word of mine. Indeed, so much so that I hesitate to employ the word in conversation to this very day without first giving it a second thought! But they were nonetheless correct—I really do like the word pleasant. There’s just something very pleasant about the word pleasant, is there not? A sweet, calm, and rather peaceful quality about it, occupying a warm and comfortable middle place between “good” and “beautiful,” while not excluding either from its definition. The word pleasant lets a person sneak a touch of enchantment into their everyday life without sounding overly romantic. “How was your day?” someone may ask, to which the response, “It was pleasant,” rings sweeter than simply saying it was good and somehow less startling than saying it was beautiful, while striking just the right tenor of what you meant to say all the same. Indeed, who can eschew King David’s use of the word when he says of his life: “The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance” (Psalm 16:5-6). Of all of life’s possible outcomes and endless avenues, David lands on the word pleasant to describe the lot given him. Notice the progression of David’s praise. The object of King David’s satisfaction rests not in his lands which stretch beyond the furthest horizons, nor in his vast riches of servants, livestock, and gold, and not even in his lofty reputation as the King. The real substance of David’s joy, the very nucleus of his innermost, highest pleasure, is none other than the Lord God Himself. Elsewhere in the Psalms we read how the writer’s soul “thirsts for God, for the living God” (Psalm 42:2). Indeed—“As the deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God” (Psalm 42:1). Even in his contemplation of Heaven itself, the psalmist Asaph declares, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you” (Psalm 73:25). David has surveyed the many pleasures of his life and, in the end, rightly concluded that God is chief among them all. Indeed, King David is what you might call a Christian hedonist. As John Piper has argued throughout the years, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.” David, for all his foibles, flaws, and fatal sins, certainly understood this. A few verses later in Psalm 16, David asserts that the joys and blessings which litter his life are but a dim echo of the eternal pleasures awaiting the faithful in that age to come: “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11). The many pleasures of David’s life were certainly a dim echo of that eternal reservoir of joy in the presence of God, but they were a genuine echo nonetheless. These were real joys and real pleasures; not to be mistaken or traded for that Pearl of great price, but true treasures and blessings all the same. Once again, notice the progression of David’s praise in Psalm 16:5-6. He begins by meditating on the goodness and satisfaction found only in the Lord (“The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup”), then he declares that it is this same Lord who guides his life (“you hold my lot”). Then, in turning his gaze upon this life he’s been given, David reflects on just how pleasant his lot from the Lord really is. To cap off his praise, as though realizing some vital piece in his thanksgiving was yet missing, he adds in conclusion: “indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance” (Psalm 16:6). Undergirding that which is pleasant in David’s life is that which is beautiful, ultimately leading him in praise back to the only true source of all beauty: “in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11). Now, I’m no musical connoisseur. Recently, however, my wife and I watched the 2016 film La La Land and—while I still have my reservations about the genre as a whole—I must admit that I was very pleasantly surprised. The movie follows Sebastian and Mia, played by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone respectively, as they navigate life and love under the lamplit streets of Los Angeles. Both Sebastian and Mia are aspiring artists. He wants to open a jazz club where he hopes the musical medium can run free from the constraints of contemporary music, whereas Mia wants to fulfill her lifelong dream of becoming an actress. Over the course of a year, a variety of musical numbers score the pair’s relationship as they work to make their respective dreams a reality, all the while balancing the many demands of love and friendship. After a string of failures and a long-expected breakup brought on by a host of pressures, Sebastian and Mia reunite once more in an effort to secure her a once-in-a-lifetime audition opportunity for a film being shot in Europe. By helping her, Sebastian is well aware that such an opportunity will whisk Mia away indefinitely should she get the part. At this point in the story, he makes peace with the reality that they may only ever be friends, and that, perhaps, even the season of their friendship is drawing to a bittersweet close. In the end, both their dreams do come true—only, they are no longer in each other’s lives such that they can share in the other’s successes and triumphs as they once would have liked. When Sebastian and Mia finally do meet again at the end of the film several years later in L.A., it’s by pure coincidence. While walking to their car after dinner one evening, Mia and her now-husband are drawn into the haze of a local jazz club by the music and light emanating from the entrance like some siren’s song. Immediately upon taking their seats, Mia locks eyes with the club’s proprietor and piano player—Sebastian. After a moment of thoughtful recognition and reflection, Sebastian breaks their gaze and begins to play the very song he performed the night he and Mia first met. What follows, in true musical fashion, is an extended, beautiful dreamlike sequence of dancing, lights, and song which takes us back to the very first moments of Sebastian and Mia’s relationship, essentially asking ‘What if?’ of their story. What if they had prioritized their relationship with one another over their artistic ambitions? What if Mia never accepted the film role and decided to stay in L.A. with Sebastian? What if, instead of starting a jazz club, Sebastian started a family with Mia? Indeed, the most poignant part of this shared vision between Sebastian and Mia is when they see the family that could have been theirs—the modest home somewhere in the Valley, the little yard with a white picket fence, the little feet toddling around the grassy lawn. And then, as suddenly as it came upon them both, the dreamy vision fades, leaving Sebastian and Mia once again separated by a room’s length in the dim-lit parlour of the club. Having determined to stay for just the one song, Mia and her husband get up and make their way to the exit, but not before she looks back one last time at Sebastian as he sits at the piano, still deep in thought. After a moment more, he too looks up and the pair lock eyes for the last time—not in regret or mourning for what could have been, but in final, humble recognition of the fact that their dreams really did come true, just not in the way they had originally planned. She became the actress she always wanted to be, now leaving the very jazz club he always wanted to own. The scene is both moving and melancholic. After all these years, the estranged couple has finally found their closure. Indeed, Sebastian and Mia were never meant to end up together, and now they have come to see why. These many years later, they are no longer lovers; they are, however, still friends. And without their friendship, for a short season as it may have been, they never would have ended up where they had always dreamed. “A rush / a glance / a touch / a dance / To look in somebody’s eyes.” It was at about this point, as the screen faded to black and the end credits began to roll, that I turned to look at my wife. There she sat not far from me, holding our newborn son in her arms. “This is it,” I thought to myself. “There’s nothing more I have need of.” Everything I ever have or could have prayed for, of everything I could have sought after in this life, and so much more, sat right there only a few feet away from me in those two souls. Whatever dreams Sebastian and Mia may have had for their lives, they paled in comparison with what God has given me in my family, in our little life, and in His love for me. Their vision of the happy life that could have been between them was but a dim reflection, as though seen through a dark glass from afar, of what the Lord has in actuality blessed me with in my wife, son, and Himself. Indeed, their dreams were far, far too small. “Thank you, Lord,” I concluded. Life hasn’t always been easy, and the way hasn’t always been clear. But when I reflect on the life I’ve been given—on the Savior who loved me and died for me, on my Heavenly home, on my wife and the eternal friendship in which we share in Christ as both lovers and friends, on our little son and the little life we’ve been given—I find myself thanking the Lord with those very same words of David: “The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.” Indeed, what a pleasant life we’ve been given. Have we needs and unmet wants? Sure. Do we carry with us any regrets? Who doesn’t? Are there yet unanswered prayers? Yes. Is there trouble anywhere? Of course there is—but the Lord will provide, even as He has already provided. We grow so accustomed to saying that, don’t we? “The Lord will provide.” Surely He will. And yet, how often we are blind to the fact that He has already provided. When I consider my life, meditating for only a moment on all that the Lord has done for me and given to me in His beloved Son, I find myself saying less and less that “the Lord will provide,” resting in the very pleasant reality that He has already provided far more abundantly than I ever could have asked or imagined if left on my own. And if you are in Christ, and Him in you, the very same can be said of your life. A pleasant life is by no means unique to me and mine. If you are in God’s family, a member of Christ’s household for whom His saving blood was shed, then it stands true of you that the lines and lot of your life have so too fallen in abundantly pleasant places because of the mercy and grace of our Lord. No matter what joys or ills can be rightly said of your life up until this point, the thing most true about you is that Christ loved you and gave Himself for you, that He has gone to prepare a place for you, and that He is returning for you. Your eternal future is eternally secure. So much so that one day you will declare that all of it, every sacrifice and shattered dream, was a light and momentary trouble when compared to the eternal weight of glory set before you in Christ Jesus. The happy reality that God works all things out for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose means we can rejoice no matter what has happened or will yet happen, because the best is yet to come. “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance” (Psalm 16:6). Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

It doesn’t always work out this neatly, but sometimes I find that—by God’s providence—each recommendation flows very well into the next. Indeed, if I had to pick a theme for this week’s News From the Frontlines, I would have to say the focus is on sin, suffering, and God’s manifold purposes in both. News From the Frontlines: Recommended Reading, Listening, & Watching Men With Chests Kendall Lankford writes on the vital importance for godly men to lead well in the culture, church, and home (that is, men with chests, à la C.S. Lewis, and not in the way you might at first think). “When God found no men in Ezekiel’s day, Israel fell. When God found a few men in Acts, pagan Rome fell. This teaches us a profound truth. When hollow men abound within the visible covenant community, calamity for God’s people is not far away. But when real men build in joyful obedience to God, nations will eventually collapse as the Kingdom of God advances... We must recognize that real men with real chests, set on fire by the living God and governed by truth, are one of the most dangerous creatures under heaven.” Genetics and Sin A lengthy but worthwhile read. “The point in saying all this, is to show that the question ‘is sin genetic?’ or ‘can we be genetically predisposed to certain sin?’ is a question unsuitable to ask in the realm of genetics – it is simply not a question genetics has the tools to answer. It’s like asking Hugh Laurie for medical advice. Good luck. There is simply no sinful genetic expression; genetic expressions affected by sin, certainly, but none that are sin itself. There are no adultery genes, or murder genes or the ever sought after gay gene. Scientists may attempt to say things that make it appear that there is some genetic connection, like hormonal or chemical imbalances (of which there are no ways to determine) but there is absolutely zero – ZERO – proof to back these statements, only theories, which are nothing but the ideas of ignorant men who don’t care about God’s thoughts.” Everything I Might Have Been I was encouraged by this article where Tim Challies considers God’s providence in those areas of life we may deem to be ‘unfair.’ He writes: “Joseph’s place was in the prison, Aaron’s place was in the tabernacle, Esther’s place was in the palace, and my place is right where he’s placed me. In that way, it doesn’t matter what I might have been, as long as I am succeeding in what I actually am, as long as I am trusting that this is where He wants me, and as long as I am being who He wants me to be. He doesn’t call me to live another man’s life or maximize another man’s talents. He calls me to serve him just where and how I am. My station, my field, my area of responsibility is exactly the one he has called me to, and I simply need to trust that he knows best.” Sometimes, God’s Intervention IS Our Suffering This article wonderfully ties together the previous one by Tim Challies and the next one by Tony Reinke. “We typically think of—and pray for—God to intervene in our lives to remove trials, pain, difficulties, and hardships. Calvin’s view is the opposite: God intervenes in our lives by placing trials, pain, difficulties, and hardships in our lives. Whatever ails us in our spiritual lives, the remedy, Calvin says, is the blessing of a cross to bear.” The Nail in the Coffin of Our Hearts: Five Hundred Years of Fighting Idolatry At Desiring God, Tony Reinke writes about the sin of idolatry and considers how the Reformers fought against Rome—and the surrounding culture—on this particular issue wherein, as with all sin, God’s glory was being terribly obscured. “The Reformers perceived the ancient expression of idol-making as simply the expression of an inner idol, a falsely placed confidence. The Protestant Reformation was a declaration of war on vain thoughts about God. And when war is declared against vain thoughts about God, war is declared on the culture’s idols.” The New Birth and Conversion—What Comes First? Speaking of important truths reclaimed and dusted off during the Protestant Reformation... In this article, Conrad Mbewe answers the important question of whether regeneration or conversion comes first in the order of salvation. “The new birth is an act of God whereby he infuses spiritual life into spiritually dead sinners. It is this spiritual life that enables sinners to sense the danger they are in (i.e. the wrath of God) and to see the sufficiency of the Saviour to save them from sin. These two realities become as true to them as the physical world that they see around them.” The Redemptive Power of “Project Hail Mary” Owen Strachan reflects on what is easily the best movie of not just 2026 thus far, but indeed the past decade—Project Hail Mary. “My point is this: speaking generally, many Christians today have altogether lost trust in Hollywood. For this reason, it can be hard to believe reports when a film comes out that is genuinely beautiful, uplifting, and relatively clean. But such a film has just appeared, seemingly ex nihilo. It is entitled “Project Hail Mary,” and it stars Ryan Gosling.” I really enjoyed both the novel and the film myself, and should you be interested, you can read my review/reflection (or, rev-flection) here: ‘Project Hail Mary’: Full of Grace, Courage, & Friendship. Photo by Iván Levyv, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

In my pride, I once thought that only a miracle had sufficient power to bring me to my knees before Christ. An event so utterly significant and supernatural in origin that it could only be ascribed to the hand of God Himself—perhaps a vision would do the trick, or surviving a catastrophic motorcycle accident. An event that was unexplainable and inescapable: a miracle. Though, in the end, the way that Christ saved me was in reality far simpler—and far more miraculous—than I ever could have imagined. Ten years ago, the Lord saw it fit to finally bring me to Himself—“as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me” (1 Corinthians 15:8). Having just turned sixteen, I found myself in Virginia for the week during what my church called ‘Eastern Camp.’ Eastern Camp ran once a year in July at a university campus that the church rented in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Unlike many church camps, Eastern Camp was by no means limited to youth and children. Rather, it was a week that entire families across our church’s denomination—spanning Canada, the United States, and even Europe—took off during the summer. And, quite like many other church camps, Eastern Camp was filled with all manner of activities: early mornings of Bible study, forums for teens and adults, choirs, a myriad of sports to fill free time with, lots of food, all ending with nights that went ever so late, only for it to all begin once again early the next day. And, like other church camps, there was always the heavy expectation that many youth would come to Christ during the week of Eastern Camp. At the time, I was acutely aware of this annual reality, so much so that I debated whether or not I would even attend camp that year. Yet there I was. Whether it was for the sports, the friends, or something else that has escaped my memory entirely, I was at camp that year. Unbeknownst to me, I had an appointment to keep—one that had been set a very, very long time ago. Whatever my own personal motivations for attending camp that year may have been, this much I remember for certain: I had no desire to know God or to be known by Him. I would become a Christian, or so I thought, on my own terms and at a time that best suited me. I grew up in the church and rubbed shoulders with the truth all my life, and yet it was made clear by my lifestyle at the time that I truly believed less than an iota of it. At best, I had an intellectual grasp on the truths that the Bible presented, with no real interest whatsoever in ever knowing the God who made me or living in joyful obedience to Him. I knew there was a God and that He was indeed the One that the Bible spoke of; but then again, so do the demons: “You believe that God is One; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder!” (James 2:19). For that matter, I believed in Heaven and Hell as well. Only, I foolishly supposed that I would be allowed to eke out enough of an existence in the pleasures of this world before ‘becoming’ a Christian. Once I had my fill, I would become a follower of Christ, if only to escape the horrors of Hell—a reality which was, curiously enough, always in the back of my mind. Indeed, there was a sense in which the terrifying truths of Hell were far more palpable to my senses than God Himself, His Word, and His love ever were. I say all of this to make one single point excruciatingly clear: I did not want to become a Christian, and I did not want to know the Lord. At best, I just wanted some eternal fire insurance. That was, of course, before the Lord revealed Himself to me. For fear of speaking too much from the mind and too little from my own heart, I will explain what happened next as simply as I’m able. Nestled neatly somewhere in the middle of the week, just after one of the evening sermons, He came for me. I do not remember the exact words that were spoken that night or the passage that was preached from, but this much I do know: the Gospel was shared. Indeed, the Word of the Lord was fitly spoken that night, and it accomplished its purpose. I remember that, within a moment, a sudden dread passed over my soul. Though I had always believed in Hell, I at no point thought—much less believed—that I was a sinner who was justly worthy of all its horrors. For the first time in my life, I suddenly saw myself as I truly was; not as a young man who had his life before him—one who would someday believe in Jesus—but as a sinner who was in direct and willful enmity with the holy, holy, holy God of the universe. It was only upon reading Jonathan Edwards’ famous sermon Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God some years later that I found the words to capture my feelings in that moment: “The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; His wrath towards you burns like fire; He is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in His sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in His eyes as the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended Him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince; and yet ’tis nothing but His hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment.” At the very heart of this dread was the Lord Himself. A tremendous sense of horror and a tremendous sense of God flooded my soul. For the first time in my little vapor of a life, I did not fear Hell only; my soul trembled before Him who alone was able and just to cast me there. However, coupled with this dread and fear was a kind of beauty; a solid, tangible, dreadful beauty that spoke softly to me in the very midst of my fears. Suddenly, I saw Him whom I had only heard about all my life, Him whom I had spent all my days running from. He was there, as though He were right beside me. The foolishness of my life thus far, the weight of my sin, instantaneously became so utterly clear—I no longer just wanted to escape the horrors of Hell, but I wanted with all my soul to know Him and be with Him. Simply put, I saw Him as beautiful, as supremely beautiful. Suddenly every whisper about Him that I had heard all my life made total and complete sense. In that moment, ever so suddenly, there was no further deliberation in my soul—no more hesitation or tarrying. I simply cried out to Him, confessing that I was a sinner and asking that He would forgive me, that He would make me clean with His blood and bring me into relationship with Himself, no matter the cost. Though I had grown up in the church, my understanding of God up until that point was about an inch deep and less than an inch wide. But in that hour, however bitterly weak my theology may have been, I was given enough sense to cast myself upon the Lord Jesus; looking nowhere else and to no one else but God Himself for mercy. What came next could only be described as a great calm. “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7). Not merely an emotion, but true peace; a peace that was secured by the finished work of the Lord Jesus on the cross for me; a peace that displaced the dread and horror that was there only a moment ago; a peace that can only come to pass when a creature finally comes into friendship with the Creator who made it. Just as Edwards gave utterance to my horror and dread, John Newton’s hymn “Amazing Grace” gave words to my joy: “’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, / And grace my fears relieved; / How precious did that grace appear / The hour I first believed.” All of this, from beginning to end, took place over the course of mere moments. Yet there I was, a new man entirely—and I knew it. For sixteen years I bucked and reared against the Lord Jesus, and yet, in the span of only a few seconds, He did more for me than eternity itself will be able to tell. Sitting there alone in that dark auditorium, overwhelmed with joy and emotion, a single scene entered my mind. I cannot say why I thought of this particular scene, but for some mysterious reason my mind was taken to the book of Exodus, right when Moses and the people of Israel crossed through the midst of the Red Sea. Only, none of these were featured in the scene that suddenly flooded my mind. A wall of water crowded my vision, like a wave, hundreds of feet high, replete with every variety of blue and green, dazzling colors of turquoise, emerald, and aquamarine; and standing before this otherworldly wave was a single creature—a white horse. The horse drove up the sandy seabed with its hooves as it turned this way and that, frantically trying to escape the roar and might of the sea that was to come descending upon it at any moment. Only, the sea did not fall, and the horse did not perish. In the end, it was not a vision of Heaven exploding upon my senses or surviving a catastrophic motorcycle accident that brought me to Christ. No, it only took Christ Himself; no other methods or devices were necessary. “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it” (Isaiah 55:10-11). My conversion was at once the simplest and most miraculous event in the universe that evening. I was blind, and now I see; I was dead, and now I am alive—I could not have imagined such a miracle. So it is with all of us who have come to know and be known by the Lord, no matter how simple or miraculous our conversion may have been. You were raised from the dead, dear Christian: that is a feat attributable to God alone. I never wanted to be a Christian, and I never wanted to know the Lord Jesus Christ. Had I been given a thousand lifetimes, I would have denied Him in each and every one were the decision left to me. But that night, Christ made it abundantly clear to me that I did not choose Him; He chose me. “You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:16). Jesus, with that same voice by which He crafted the cosmos and raised Lazarus from the dead—“Lazarus, come out!”—raised me also. Oh, if the Lord were not speaking to Lazarus only, would not the entire grave have been emptied! I thank the Lord that when I stood broken before the torrents and howling winds of His majesty, He did not consume me. That great wall of turquoise, emerald, and aquamarine did not devour me; it washed me. He made me clean with His own blood. I stood, and stand forevermore, white as snow before the radiance of His glory, as a white horse galloping upon the seashore. I never wanted to become a Christian. But now, give me ten thousand lifetimes and I will gladly live each one for Him, and Him only. Photo by Michael Olsen, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

Not everyone leaves their hometown. Perhaps such folks find themselves lingering in a place far longer than they ever thought; they had intentions to go abroad for a great adventure at some point, only it never materialized. Not, at least, in the way they had once expected. We see a picture of this reality in Mark 5. Just before Jesus returns to His own hometown of Nazareth in Mark 6, we read the story of a man who, though he desired with all his heart to leave his home and follow Jesus, was nonetheless commanded by the Lord to stay put. Just before this encounter, right at the tail end of Mark 4, Jesus displays his divine power as God incarnate over the howling winds and roaring seas—“Peace! Be still!” (Mark 4:39). At the voice of Jesus, a great calm immediately rushes over the once tumultuous water where the disciples’ little boat was only just a moment before being tossed to and fro with great violence. Once Jesus and His disciples step ashore on the other side of the sea in the country of the Gerasenes, the Lord is straightaway confronted with another raging tempest in the form of a demon-possessed man: “And when Jesus had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit” (Mark 5:2). Jesus had only just finished displaying His divine power over nature. Now, He turned His divine love towards man. As with the stormy sea, the man with the unclean spirit needed only a few words from the mouth of Jesus to calm his troubled soul—“And people came to see what it was that had happened. And they came to Jesus and saw the demon-possessed man, the one who had had the legion, sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, and they were afraid” (Mark 5:14-15). As with the people of His hometown of Nazareth in the coming chapter, Jesus is met with a mixture of fear and rejection by the Gerasenes. Indeed, all but one began to earnestly “beg Jesus to depart from their region” (5:17). The man afflicted by a host of demons only a few moments before his encounter with Jesus did not join the crowd in begging Him to leave. Instead, he “begged [Jesus] that he might be with him” (5:18). Like the townspeople, the man was fine with the Lord leaving—provided, of course, that he could follow after Him. In this story, we see a vivid picture of the Gospel: a sovereign Lord graciously condescending to a sinful man blinded by the kingdom of darkness, wandering bound among the tombs, who is then delivered into the Kingdom of Light. The man who had just tasted true love and kindness from the hands and heart of the Lord now could not stand the thought of being separate from Him. The once sick man had tasted life abundant from the Author of life, and it was now his singular passion to love and serve Jesus for the rest of his days. In other words, the man went from demon-possessed to Jesus-obsessed. He assumed—as many of us might as well—that this new life would include, at the very least, him leaving his hometown to follow Jesus. A fair assumption. After all, throughout the Gospels we see Jesus routinely calling people to leave all they have to follow Him, both spiritually as well as quite literally, physically, and geographically. The man who had been demon-possessed didn’t want anything else out of life other than to now follow after Jesus. Who could blame him? It was the citizenry of his hometown that banished him to the outskirts of the city, binding him with chains and shackles among the tombs; in addition to Satan himself, it was the very people he grew up amongst who consigned him to this life of abasement and loneliness; and worst of all, it was his hometown who spurned and rejected his Savior and Lord. Why would he want anything to do with his hometown? And yet, Jesus did not permit the man to accompany Him. Consider the Lord’s response to the man as He and His disciples make their way back into the boat: “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you” (Mark 5:19). Bold of the Lord to assume the poor man had any friends left! Perhaps Jesus meant for him to make some and then to share the good news with them. Indeed, the healed man was being deployed with the Gospel to the very people who had abused him these many years. To the very land of darkness and shadow which had for so long been under the twisted thumb of the evil one. The Jesus-obsessed man wanted to follow Jesus; Jesus gladly permitted this request. Indeed, the man was given his mission orders from the Lord Himself, even if the mission wasn’t one he necessarily would have chosen for himself. Such is life, is it not? The account ends with these words—“And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled” (Mark 5:20). In The Fellowship of the Ring, Frodo is told by Gandalf that he must leave the Shire if he wishes for his hometown to remain safe from the forces of Darkness. Frodo acquiesces, but it’s with a heavy heart that he responds to Gandalf: “I should like to save the Shire, if I could—though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don’t feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.” As the healed man left Jesus on the shore and made his way back home, did he think similar thoughts about his hometown and those people who resided there? That the inhabitants were “too stupid and dull for words” and that “an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them” after everything they had subjected him to? If you ask me, I think the man forgave them. Did he wish he too could be crowded among the disciples in their little boat with Jesus? Perhaps—but I really don’t think so. Not everyone is called to be a Peter or a John, after all. After Jesus left, the man went away joyfully, burning with an evangelistic zeal for the people Christ sent him to. His inward love for Jesus was subsequently directed outwards to those around him in his little hometown. The man came to realize an important truth which Paul later spells out in Acts 17:24-27: that God sovereignly determines the times and places in which each man lives, to the end that they might find Him and make Him known. “The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us.” Part of maturing is realizing that we must hold our dreams and ambitions with something of a loose grip—not because our plans for our lives are too big, but because they are too small. We have great expectations for our lives, to be sure; thankfully, the Lord’s plans for us exceed each and every one of our own. Though we cannot always see it, it stands true that the Lord always has other, better work in mind for us. This is the kind of work that pierces through the temporal and mundane with eternal purpose. Though much of our living here below can feel ordinary, as though we are laboring in utter obscurity in some dusty corner of the world, what an encouragement that this is nonetheless just the place where the Lord would have us for the time being. By resting in His perfect wisdom, care, and timing, we can take heart that everything done as unto the Lord will send echoes not just through our little cities and hometowns, but through the halls of eternity itself. Such that, when all is said, done, and unveiled, all of creation in the New Heavens and New Earth will swell with His praise for the better and brighter because of it. Photo by the Art Institute of Chicago, Unsplash Author’s Note: This article is a follow-up to my post from last week, “A Portrait of My Hometown.” Think of them as two parts of a larger whole, and as such, I would encourage you to read them both! Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

I have to admit, I’m quite enjoying rounding up these recommendations each week, and I hope you are as well. In this week’s News From the Frontlines, you’ll find material on Heaven, aliens, anxiety, prayer, exercise, and a great video on the glory of God as seen through the lens of mathematics. May the Lord be praised—“To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen” (1 Timothy 1:17). News From the Frontlines: Recommended Reading, Listening, & Watching God’s Children Really Will Live Happily Ever After In this brief reflection on the ending of The Chronicles of Narnia, Randy Alcorn considers the indescribable happy ending awaiting all those in Christ Jesus—a future so glorious and so weighty that it puts all fairy-tale stories to shame. And best of all, this story is true. The Infinite Gulf: The Creator-Creature Distinction and the Limits of Human Knowledge Furthermore, the very reason why we shall live happily ever after is because of the unending, perfect communion we shall share with our perfect, unending, infinite Creator: “Glorification cures us of our sin, but it does not cure us of our finitude. When we are ushered into the final state and see Him face to face, we will still only see Him as creatures beholding the Divine. We will see Him finitely, even as He remains infinite. In that glorious consummation, God will still be accommodating His uncreated majesty to our finite, creaturely capacities. Our eternal worship will not be a mystical dissolving of the self into the infinite ocean of His essence, but a perfect, everlasting communion—the finite creature safely dwelling in the presence of the infinite Father.” Spurgeon’s Surprising View on Aliens Surprising, indeed. “I was surprised to learn that Charles Spurgeon made comments about the possibility of intelligent life existing beyond our planet. But not too surprised. The man was prolific, opinionated, and bold. When you have more words printed in English than anyone else in history, it means you said a lot of stuff.” Six Realities for the Anxious Soul As many of you may know by now, my wife is a Biblical counselor and each week I ask her to give one recommendation for this segment, be it an article, essay, video, or podcast episode. From the title alone, you can no doubt guess that this is her suggestion for the week. Lord willing, you too are encouraged as this pastor walks through Matthew 6:25-34—Jesus’ famous sermon on anxiety. “I think we worry most in the places where we feel things slipping. The body that is not as strong as it was. The cultural moment that feels like it is caving in. The institution you have poured yourself into that feels more fragile than you want to admit. The influence that is harder to measure than it used to be. We do not usually panic in places of stability. We panic at the edges, where things are fading and we cannot stop them.” Act In Accordance With Your Prayers This is a nice companion piece to the one above. In it, Michael Kelley draws attention to the reality that Biblical prayer is far more than merely “Letting go and letting God.” Prayer includes not only a childlike faith and dependence in the power, love, and character of God to do what He has promised in His word, but also a willing obedience to follow up our prayers with action before we receive even a single response from God—indeed, is not our faithful obedience to act in accordance with His word the beginnings of an answer in and of itself? “We pray for God to change someone’s heart, and so we share the gospel with that person. We pray for God to provide our daily bread, and so we actively search for a job. We pray God would turn our children towards Him and we actively treat them with Christlike love and compassion.” A Theology of Exercise: Why Christians Should Train Their Bodies for God’s Glory If you haven’t heard of Jonny Ardavanis and Dial In Ministries, I would encourage you to check out his podcast of the same name. In this video (from YouTube, though you can find his podcast anywhere podcasts are found), Jonny and author David Mathis discuss physical exercising for the glory of God. Can Math Prove God? The Argument From Eternal Truths In this lengthy but really quite fascinating video, Gavin Ortlund considers whether mathematics proves the existence of God (hint: like just about everything else in God’s world, it most surely does). Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

The Grand River ebbs and flows lazily through Galt, the historical district of Cambridge, Ontario. Have you ever paused to consider how a place comes to find itself haunted? Haunted in the old-fashioned sense of the word: laden heavily with experience, nostalgia, and memory, rather than the modern fare of ghosts, spirits, and phantoms. In Ireland, for example, the idea of a haunted place runs rampant, so much so that there is a particular phrase attributed to these locations: liminal spaces. In literature and history more broadly, a liminal space is a place of transition, a threshold between one thing and the next—between seasons, between relationships, between worlds. Ever caught between their ancient Celtic past dripping with the dew of druids, folklore, and fairies and their industrialized future under the shadow of Great Britain, it comes as little wonder that Irish literature carries with it a sense of the haunted and hallowed. In his novel, That Hideous Strength, C.S. Lewis, who was himself of Irish descent, paints a portrait not only of a haunted Ireland or even a haunted Britain, but a haunted history of Europe. One of the most chilling passages in the story takes place around the final third of the novel as three characters—Jane, Dimble, and Arthur—make their way through a dark and rainy forest in search of the wizard Merlin from Arthurian legend. As the three companions venture further into the bowels of the dark wood, Dimble, the oldest among the group, begins to sense that they are on the brink of passing some threshold from which they, quite possibly, cannot so easily return: “The change from the road to the field was as if one had passed from a waking into a phantasmal world. Everything became darker, wetter, more incalculable. Each small descent felt as if you might be coming to the edge of a precipice.” As the sense of place begins to weigh upon Dimble and company, his mind starts flipping through all those dusty pages of history which he consumed over his lifetime as a scholar: “‘The Dark Ages,’ thought Dimble; how lightly one had read and written those words. But now they were going to step right into that Darkness. It was an age, not a man, that awaited them in the horrible little dingle. And suddenly all that Britain which had been so long familiar to him as a scholar rose up like a solid thing. He could see it all.” This phenomenon of liminal spaces is by no means limited to the isle of Ireland, or to Britain, or to the crumbling pages of ancient texts. Pitch your tent in a place long enough, and it will undoubtedly begin to take root in your memory. In time, your memories and experiences will even shape the location itself, creating a new place that is not entirely its own—owing much of its character to you and your influence, whether for good or for ill. Are not our respective hometowns almost haunted in a similar way? Caught as they are between the warmth of our dimly lit nostalgia for a childhood come and gone, and the desire to flee as far as we’re able from the bounds such memories and experiences might impose upon us? Even the ministry of Jesus was not immune to the innumerable vices, criticisms, and memories of His own hometown. In Mark 6:1-6, we read that Jesus visits Nazareth of Galilee, His hometown, where He teaches with authority and wisdom about the Kingdom of God. Though the people of his hometown were—even self-admittedly—“astonished” at the wisdom of His teaching and the mighty works of His hands (6:2), they nonetheless responded to Him with ambivalence and unbelief. Indeed, the crowds of Nazareth thought they knew who Jesus was simply because He lived among them for so long in seeming obscurity: “Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?” (6:3). Mark writes that the people “took offense at him.” The pride of Nazareth was assaulted that one of their own, a lowly carpenter of little repute, should dare speak with authority into their lives on those things pertaining to the soul. The Lord departed from their midst with these words: “A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown and among his relatives and in his own household” (6:4). I suppose the opposite can also be true—“A hometown is not without honor, except in the eyes of a prophet.” Growing up, I knew many self-proclaimed prophets in my hometown. They were prophets, of sorts, in that they supposed they were to be the ones to put our little town of Cambridge on the map—just as soon as they got out of it, of course. ‘Lamebridge,’ they called it. The reality is that some of us never do end up leaving our hometowns. Or perhaps we do, just not very far. And maybe we do get far enough away, only to end up back where we started one way or another. I’ve moved four times in my life, all within the past five years, and only one of those moves has found me outside of my hometown of Cambridge. Some way or another, my road always takes me back home. And you know what? That’s quite alright by me. I know this town, and it knows me. Almost everywhere I go, I find that my memories have cast their shadows somewhere; memories themselves which are lit by the golden light of a childhood flame that has been well tended to over the years with many familiar faces, sights, sounds, and streets. I know this town. In my mind I can trace the lamplit streets of Blair; the very streets where my wife and I walked and talked for many hours on our first date as the velvety boughs of ancient oaks overshadowed us; not far from there, twin steeples pierce the skyline on the edge of the Grand River, sentinels whispering of what once made our city, our country, a Christian one; and just across the bridge, Galt’s historical district, with its many coffee bars, bookstores, chocolate shops, and pizzerias, each little storefront strung together like little tealights in the dwindling, violet light. In the best way possible, my hometown haunts me and, perhaps, I haunt it—these are, after all, my memories, my experiences, and my reflections of the place. Of the many thousands of souls who call this town home, no two of us see it in quite the same way. So it is with all hometowns, even your own. For remember, in your striving to live faithfully and as unto the Lord, you will begin to shape the place, hometown or otherwise, even as the place shapes you. In seeking the welfare of the place wherein the Lord has sovereignly placed you, you are in effect creating a little corner of the world that is not entirely its own, haunting it with Heaven, wherein it suddenly begins to owe much of its character to you and your godly influence as you look beyond this earthly tent to that Heavenly city which you can really call home. “But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7). Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

Welcome to News From the Frontlines, and to all my American friends, a most happy Fourth of July. Here is a brief sampling of this week’s recommendations: dealing with regret and shame Biblically, embracing the joys of married sex, a sobering reflection on the UK’s recent “Rape Gang Inquiry Report,” and fittingly, a piece discussing what the Bible has to say about patriotism. Read, share, and above all, be encouraged in the Lord Jesus Christ who reigns from everlasting to everlasting, no matter which earthly powers wrestle with futility for the steering wheel of this age. News From the Frontlines: Recommended Reading, Listening, & Watching Crushed By Past Regrets? Here’s the Biblical Cure Dr. Greg Gifford is a Biblical Counselor, army veteran, professor at The Master’s Seminary, and host of Transformed. You can find his podcast on Spotify (which I’ve linked to here), Apple Podcasts, or over at the Fortis Institute. In this episode of Transformed, Dr. Gifford begins his series on emotions by considering whether our regrets in life have less to do with the circumstances of our past mistakes and sins, and more to do with our view of God. My wife, a Biblical Counselor herself, sent me this episode a few weeks ago and I was quite encouraged by it—perhaps you will be as well. Would You Attend Your Son’s Execution? “It is right that we thank God for the cross and good that we praise him for it. It is appropriate that we proclaim it as the greatest of all manifestations of the love and wisdom of God. But I very much doubt it looked that way to Mary. I very much doubt Mary looked up to Jesus as he hung on the cross and praised God for his wisdom, or that she thanked God for the blood of his Son (who was, of course, equally her son). I doubt God expected her to.” The Delightful Duty of Married Sex Writing for Desiring God, Tilly Dillehay considers how “duty kisses delight in God’s world,” particularly in His good gift of sexual intimacy between husband and wife. “God commanding a husband and wife to have sex is like a master commanding his servants to throw a party out of his own larder, using the best wine and best dishes. It’s like a boss commanding his employees to give themselves a raise and a paid vacation to Bali. Here you have been commanded, as man and woman, to engage regularly in something that God designed to give you moments of literal ecstasy and unifying, self-forgetful delight. Of all the hobbies you could engage in together — tennis, chess, movies — this is the only hobby you’ve been told not to neglect.” Will Britain finally awaken? Speaking of celebrating—or lamenting—one’s nation, this was a tough read. When I first heard about the “Rape Gang Inquiry Report” that came out of the UK from a few weeks ago, my heart held tightly to the promise of God’s just wrath against all evildoers from Romans 12:19: “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’” Over at WORLD, Joe Rigney considers this devastating report in light of Biblical reality and the Lord’s holiness in a way that is both helpful and sobering. The Quiet Crisis of Prayerless Orthodoxy “If I do not pray, I may say God is sovereign, but I function as if I am. If I do not pray, I may say God is wise, but I act as if my instincts are enough. If I do not pray, I may say I am weak, but I live as if I am strong. If I do not pray, I may say ministry depends on the Spirit, but I behave as if preparation, personality, and planning are sufficient.” How Can We Give Generously without Worrying? Drawing from Scripture, God’s character as displayed through His promises, and a handful of personal experiences, Randy Alcorn addresses those of us who, at different times and in our own different ways, have wrongly concluded that “If I give generously, I’ll have to worry about where the money will come from to replace what I’ve given.” The Joy of Patriotism As believers, we are called to seek the welfare of the city and nation in which the Lord has placed us—this is our duty in and out of season, not just once a year on a special day. Nonetheless, this seemed a particularly fitting article for this week given both Canada and America celebrated another anniversary. “We can honor our leaders and our nation even in the most dire of circumstances because we joyfully trust that our King reigns and he will vindicate his people.” Photo by Europeana, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply clicking here and entering your email. And as always, the very best you can do is share my writing with others who may also be encouraged by it. If you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

A few months ago, I took up swimming. What began purely as a means of exercise soon blossomed into something of a religious experience—though not in the kooky, New Age-y way, mind you. In His wisdom, God determined that we as His image-bearers should be both body and soul. Or, more simply, humans are what you might call embodied souls. We have a human soul, or spirit, but it is tied inextricably and mysteriously to our physical, human body. We can distinguish between the two, but we cannot divide them entirely and permanently without some lasting consequence. When we die, there is a temporary separation of body and spirit—a separation which will be remedied at the final resurrection, either unto eternal glory or everlasting torment. But in either case, we shall be embodied. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5:4, “For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.” All that to say, our physical bodies are of the utmost importance, and caring properly for our bodies will yield many benefits—whether physical, mental, or spiritual. “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Indeed, my physical body benefits tremendously from my weekly swims. My heart health is increased as I flex my cardiovascular system, forcing oxygen-rich blood to pulse throughout my body. My lungs, in tandem with my heart, are forced into a disciplined regimen as they learn to maximize each breath between strokes. And unlike some other workouts, swimming very nearly strains and stretches every muscle in my body as I cut through the water. In my experience, however, these physical benefits pale in comparison to the spiritual riches of swimming. There’s nothing quite like entering that other world beneath the water—the stillness and silence of it, broken only by the soft rhythm of my own breathing and the lapping of the water as it plops and clops against my arms and swim cap. I love the silence of the water; I relish its stillness. Even as the water has taken me into its shimmering fold, I bask and delight likewise in it. It is here that I meet with the Lord—sometimes in prayerful conversation as between two friends, or sometimes in quiet meditation, allowing my thoughts to wander freely upon some knot that my mind has been trying to unspool. On one occasion in particular, only a few laps in, I got to looking around at my surroundings in the pool. Perhaps “looking around” isn’t the best set of words. Indeed, there wasn’t very much to observe, as the pool was cloudier than usual that day—either because of a chemical imbalance, low chlorine, or much-needed cleaning, or all three. All I could see was the roughly foot-wide tiled strip that ran lengthwise up the lane. You might not think it, but swimming, like all exercises, has a lot to do with balance. Even though you are suspended in water while swimming, it’s always important to ensure that your strokes, kicks, and movements are harmonious, or else you will veer too far off to the right, left, or into another swimmer. I swam with a young man in high school whose Olympic trajectory was derailed because he collided with a swimmer going the opposite way, shattering his shoulder—and Olympic dreams—in the process. In an effort to keep my shoulders in one piece, not to mention equally worked, I tended to stick pretty closely to that foot-wide strip. “That’s just like life, isn’t it?” I thought to myself as I swam. Sometimes I talk aloud to myself, but I resorted to thinking aloud on this occasion (on account of being underwater and all that). “Oftentimes, the way before you is cloudy and dark, with dangers to both the right and the left, with hardly a path before one’s feet. Lord, though the Way be narrow, I thank you that there be a way at all, and that your hand leads us gently along it.” “Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few” (Matthew 7:13-14). I looked up from the narrow line that I had been following and began to see a shape dimly taking form out of the gloom. As it reached the vertical concrete wall marking the end of my lane, the horizontal strip I had been swimming along began suddenly to make its way up the tiled wall and join arms with another section of tile running the other way. I had never noticed this before—for out of the cloudy water, a cross was taking shape before my eyes, marking the end of my lap. Almost immediately, my mind turned to words from the familiar hymn, “I have decided to follow Jesus; No turning back; no turning back. The cross before me, the world behind me; No turning back, no turning back.” “The cross before me, the world behind me / No turning back, no turning back.” Although if you are lane swimming, you must turn back sooner or later. I suppose all analogies, even the best ones, break down at some point. And so that’s just what I did when I hit the end of my lap—I turned around. I caught my breath, did my flip, and pushed off the tiled wall with all my might and propelled forward into the water, following the narrow, foot-wide strip once more, just as I had done thousands of times before. In that moment, my mind turned to another tune to stave off the fatigue that was quickly setting in. Some years ago, my sisters and I were visiting our aunt and uncle in Florida. The family had three young boys at the time and, presumably, only a single DVD to their name—the animated film Finding Nemo. Each time we loaded ourselves into their minivan to leave the house, no matter whether the destination was five minutes away or an hour, the boys demanded that their favorite movie, Finding Nemo, be turned on (always starting from the very beginning, might I add). I got to know the movie, and one of its popular songs, rather well: “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do? Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, Swimming, swimming, swimming...” A few more seconds of swimming passed by, but the fatigue remained. Just then, awaiting me at the end of the lane as I drew nearer, another cross began taking shape. Another lap, another year—maybe the analogy is sturdier than I supposed. As we make our way through this life, some years and seasons are gloomier than others. We have put our trust in the Lord and in His promises; we are walking the narrow and hard way that leads to life, abiding in His love and in His word. But much of the time, we can scarcely see far off on account of the gloom, let alone have sight to see the twists and turns which lie just beyond our next few weary steps. That is why we must walk by faith, and not by sight. In and out of season, we have to diligently preach the Gospel to ourselves afresh, familiarizing ourselves intimately with its everlasting truths—“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20). To stave off spiritual fatigue in all its many forms—unbelief, despair, discouragement, doubt, apathy—the cross must ever be both before as well as behind us. Like Paul, let us endeavor to know nothing in this life “except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). Elsewhere, Paul says, “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Galatians 6:14). Along every lap, we must keep our eyes and hearts fixed on the cross, tightly fastening our hope to Him who was fastened there ever so tightly; fastened to the cross not only by Roman nails, but by our sin and His everlasting love for us. “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24). The more laps around the sun Paul got in, the more he realized he wasn’t the star of the show; that he wasn’t as special or capable as others made him out to be. As he matured, as he grew up into the fullness of the stature of Christ, the more Paul saw of himself as he truly was—and more importantly, the glory of Christ became greater, clearer, and more lovely to his eyes, even as he shrank in comparison. Writer and pastor Scott Sauls once observed this very point: “Read Paul’s letters in the order he wrote them and watch what happens to the way he describes himself. Early on, he calls himself ‘Paul, an apostle.’ Years later, ‘the least of the apostles.’ Later still, ‘the very least of the saints.’ And at the end of his life, in his last letter to Timothy, he writes that ‘Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom he is the worst.’ Notice the trajectory. The longer Paul walked with Christ, the smaller he became in his own estimation.” As you make for a fresh lap, look back at the cross and all that it represents, and then turn your eyes forward and strain with joy for the hope of the cross which will soon be revealed. In everything, bookend your life, thoughts, and affections with the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, even as Paul did. For the way that leads to life is narrow, but not so narrow that two cannot walk it abreast. It was our Lord Himself who promised, “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). And until your faith becomes sight, just keep swimming. Narrow as the lane may be, you’ve never been in it alone. Photo by Matthew Sichkaruk, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

Welcome, my friends, to another edition of News From the Frontlines—a weekly segment on the blog where I strive to highlight articles, essays, podcast episodes, videos, and more, all for your pleasure and encouragement in the Lord. I’ve linked to a wide variety of material today, ranging from a reflection on death and The Lord of the Rings, to God’s purposes in prayer, to whether or not pets will be in Heaven. As with all the work I do here at Iotas in Eternity, my chief hope is that you are blessed by these everyday words and that they may abound to eternal purposes as you read, reflect, and apply the truths therein. News From the Frontlines: Recommended Reading, Listening, & Watching Death, Grief, and Frodo’s Incurable Wound Just as I’ve done many times in my own writing, Zak Mellgren draws from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings to reflect on the death of a loved one and the hope we have in Christ—providing further proof that The Lord of the Rings is unquestionably the greatest work of imaginative fiction in human history. The Bible Is Never Enough As with last week, I asked my wife to suggest an article for News From the Frontlines. I think I’ll make this a weekly tradition! As a Biblical Counselor, she has many wonderful insights into that world that I think you’ll find encouraging, helpful, and even challenging. Hopefully the title of this week’s article is enough to arouse your curiosity—“Our ancestors rejected God’s Word for golden calves and Greek philosophy. We reject it for far more respectable things: clinical research, therapeutic models, neurobiological frameworks, and the ever-expanding empire of the social sciences.” Saying Goodbye to Moses Randy Alcorn is among my favorite Christian writers—indeed, I owe much of my theology about Heaven to his writing ministry through the years. In this touching piece, Randy reflects on the passing of his dear dog, Moses, and considers the role that animals—and pets in particular—might play in the New Heavens and the New Earth. While the Bible doesn’t explicitly mention God’s purposes for animals in Heaven, I wholeheartedly agree with Randy that certain portions of Scripture, such as Romans 8:19-23, leave the door wide open for such a reality. We shall see! No Service for Jesus Is Small “A meal cooked for a neighbor, a patient interaction with a child, a kind word to a discouraged colleague — each can become an echo of Jesus’s full provision, perfect patience, and infinite kindness to us. When we love and serve others because we’ve already received infinitely more from God, the deed (as simple and mundane as it may seem to be) grows great. What a liberating and hope-giving truth! It blows the dust from our ho-hum days, causing them to sparkle with significance. It means the world is bursting with opportunities for us to act in ways that matter forever.” Writing Is Pain, but Environment Can Help I love reading how other writers, especially good writers, go about the business of writing. Trevin Wax begins by saying, “I often tell aspiring writers that there’s no way to avoid the work. Not if you want to truly write, rather than merely enjoy the afterglow of having written something. Not if you want to really think, rather than dash off an idea and watch generative AI spit out something you can slap your name on.” Ask Whatever I Wish? God’s Unblushing Promises for Prayer Writing for Desiring God, David Mathis writes about God’s design and desire for our prayer lives—a particularly comforting article for those of us who may be in seasons of waiting. “However many unanswered questions we have about prayer, God makes it abundantly clear that he wants us to pray. He doesn’t just stomach our prayers; he delights in them. He invites them. He beckons. He woos. He calls for prayer and reminds us to pray, and works his sovereign angles to elicit our prayers. He wants to hear from his people.” The Importance of Holiness: The Holiness of God with R.C. Sproul Earlier this year, I began reading through The Holiness of God for the second time while also leading our weekly Bible study through R.C.’s six-part video series of the same name. Each episode is about 30 minutes in length and is currently uploaded to Ligonier’s YouTube channel. I’ve linked to the first episode in the series, titled “The Importance of Holiness.” Whether you’re looking for something to listen through on your way to and from work, or in need of material for a small group, I cannot recommend this series highly enough. Photo by Danny Greenberg, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.

Good evening, everyone. My name is Joshua Budimlic, and I am Dakota’s oldest and only brother. You may recognize me as the man who had the honor of walking Dakota down the aisle only a few short hours ago. And if you don’t recognize me, well, that’s understandable—there’s a handful of you I don’t recognize either. And whether I know you or not, the fact remains that “I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve”—don’t worry, I assure you that works out to a compliment. Also, many of us Budimlic men really do look alike. Whether for better or for worse, I find that we tend to blend together after a while. And now that I think of it—Jonathan, you’ll fit right in. When Dakota was young, she was fiercely independent—almost to a fault—so much so that she spent much of her time as a child playing on her own. This didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. Indeed, no one seemed able to keep up with her imagination, and so she spent much time entertaining herself throughout childhood, seemingly content. Anyone who knows Dakota also knows that she is wildly creative and imaginative—she has blossomed into a talented artist and, more recently, a very capable hairstylist as well. Something for which I, and my wallet, am eternally grateful. Some years ago, one of the first things Dakota and I began to bond over was a shared love for books and stories. In particular, we shared a deep, mutual affection for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Before either of us became believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, there was something about Tolkien’s storytelling that drew both Dakota and me into his fictional world, even as we were drawn out of this fallen world. The stories of Middle-Earth, though fictional, cast long shadows beyond themselves onto firmer ground beyond the horizon and around the next bend. As a Christian, Tolkien well understood the power of the written word, of fictional worlds, and stories, and how these various elements—though make-believe—helped point our hearts and imaginations towards the Lord God and the magnificent story He’s telling—a story which Tolkien would often refer to as “the One True Myth.” In His time, the Lord saw it fit to draw Dakota and me into this vast story. What began between us as a love for books soon blossomed into a love for the book, the Bible, and an ever-deepening love for its Author—the Lord Himself, our Savior. I said that Dakota is a fiercely independent and creative individual. That’s true. She’s also a rather reserved individual. Indeed, we must be related. When Dakota gave her life to Christ, being the soft-spoken young woman she is, she took her sweet time telling me that she was now a Christian. But that was hardly of importance—words weren’t necessary to communicate the seismic shift that had taken place in her life and heart. The Bible says that “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” My wife and I have often said to one another that Dakota’s conversion to Christ is one of the sweetest, simplest, and most obvious examples of what it means to repent of sin, cling to Christ, and walk in the newness of life. In the book of 1 John, he writes: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” I am not Dakota’s father. I am, however, her older brother—and as an older brother, I scarcely have greater joy than to see my little sisters “walking in the truth.” I thank the Lord that He gave me the blessing of my three sisters twice over; first as their older brother in this life, and then as their brother in Christ, both in this life and in the one to come. Words cannot express what an encouragement your faith is to me, Dakota. The sincerity of your affection for God and His word, the way in which you consume books and sermons about the truth, the joy I see beaming from your person day by day, and the love you have for the church, your family, and Jonathan—these virtues will serve you well as you enter this new season of marriage. After Tata went home to be with the Lord, I often felt as though two roles were simultaneously thrust upon me—that of the sole, protective older brother, and something of a father role as well. And while I tried my best to assume these twin roles as “the man of the house” while we all lived together at home, I nonetheless grieve with you, Dakota, that Tata is not here today. No one can truly take his place or step into his shoes, or venture a guess as to what he might say to you and Jonathan on your wedding day. Not even me. But if I know anything about Tata, I know that he would rejoice above all that you are “walking in the truth,” that you are pursuing hard after Christ and pursuing a godly man of whom the very same can be said. This was his chief prayer for all of us as his children. If Tata were here, I suspect it would be at about this point that he’d turn the conversation to God and His word. Even before Tata passed away, it was our Heavenly Father who was—and is, and ever will be—our true father, the One to whom all the very best fathers dimly point. It’s Christ who, though He is Lord and God over all, was the perfect elder brother to you and your sisters, whether in the best or worst of times. Whatever God’s reasons were for taking Tata home when He did, we can most certainly say it was in large part that we may come to know Him better as Brother, Father, and Lord. In Ephesians 5, however, we find the most unexpected truth of all: that those in Christ are not only sons and daughters of the Most High, not simply brothers and sisters in Christ; but the mystery of mysteries, we as the church are Christ’s bride. Paul concludes his discourse on marriage in Ephesians 5 by going all the way back to Genesis, to the very dawn of creation, when he says: “‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church.” This is a profound mystery, indeed. Dakota, as Jonathan’s wife, it is now your joyful, God-given duty to submit to him as your husband out of a sincere, loving reverence for Christ as Lord, even as He submitted to the Father in joyful obedience. Jonathan, as Dakota’s husband, you now have the weighty responsibility of imitating Christ in your marriage—to lead and love sacrificially, to be responsible and accountable before the Lord; to provide, protect, and pray for your family as their shepherd under Christ, the true good Shepherd. I am not your father, Dakota. But if he were here, I suspect he would say to you and Jonathan many of the very same things I’ve just said, for there are scarcely more profound words on marriage to be found than those in Ephesians 5. Were he here, Tata would have pointed you towards Christ and His word, and I hope I’ve done just that. Marriage is a high calling, one of the highest; and it is a joyful calling, one of the most joyful. Tata would have been so very proud of the young, godly woman you’ve become, and he would have loved the man you’ve chosen as your husband. I look forward to the day when we’ll see him again. To the day when I will no longer have to speak on his behalf because he will be there to speak for himself. Like you, I long to be reunited and gathered home together as a family once more—not as Tata’s children, but as brothers and sisters in Christ, and as sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father. Once there, we will all take part, alongside Tata and all the redeemed, in the marriage feast of the Lamb—then we will see this thing we call marriage as it truly is. But until that day, Jonathan and Dakota, love the Lord, submit to Him, and serve Him with all your heart as you seek to love and serve one another in Him. And always remember that you are loved. You are loved by your many friends and family, by your Tata, by your Heavenly Father, by Christ your elder brother, and by me, your other big brother. Truly, I love you both. Photo by ashleyphotography.ca Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page.