“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me’” (Matthew 25:37-40, NIV).

I was watching a video podcast called 1 Degree of Andy on YouTube where he and the guest made an interesting comment on the parable of the sheep and the goats. Those sheep will hear Jesus say that they ministered to Him when they fed the hungry and gave the thirsty something to drink and so on, and they will reply, “When did we do that?”

In one sense, they’re ministering to Jesus by serving the least of these. But also in another sense, their greatest moments of service will be when the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing, which is to say they won’t be aware of the magnitude of what’s happening.

So many times, we think people will remember us for the big dramatic moments where we saw hundreds come to faith in Christ or we spoke to multitudes. But so often, the times when we made the biggest impact will be the ones we don’t remember at all.

It will be like someone comes up to you and says, “Remember when . . .” and you will have to be reminded. They will say that what you said or did in that moment changed their life forever but you had no idea.

To me, the perfect kind of serving and ministering is a lot like C. S. Lewis’ idea of the perfect worship service. We won’t remember what the songs were or what the sermon was about because we will have been so focused on God that we noticed nothing else. When we are making a true Kingdom impact is when we’re so focused on Jesus that we don’t notice anything else except serving Him in that moment.

That should give us hope. We may have blessed others without realizing it just as there are surely times we have been blessed by those who were unaware. It’s probably so we won’t get puffed up and lose focus. Otherwise, we might try to serve out of our own strength (and fail miserably) rather than out of the overflow of God’s love for us.

I can’t believe it’s been 23 years since 9/11. It blows my mind that people in college weren’t alive on that day in 2001. In a lot of ways, that day feels like yesterday with how vivid my memories are.

I still remember my boss calling me into his office on that day. I had no idea why and thought for a minute I’d done something wrong or forgotten something. But when I walked into his office and saw the TV, I knew something was up.

No one knew what was going on when that first plane hit the Twin Towers. I think everyone was in shock from seeing images of a plane crashing into a skyscraper. But when the second plane hit, suddenly I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. So did everyone else.

In the words of the Alan Jackson song, that’s the day the world stopped turning. Nearly 3,000 people lost their lives and if not for the brave efforts of so many of our firefighters and police, many more people could have died.

It was the day when everything changed. Airports and flying were never the same after that day. One beautiful part was seeing unity and cooperation on 9/12 that we’ve rarely seen before or since. And I distinctly recall a lot of churches were full that next Sunday.

It’s one of those moments like when JFK was assassinated. Everyone who was alive and old enough to remember can tell you where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. It’s a flashbulb memory that’s indelibly marked in a lot of brains.

The best way to honor those who died that day is to not forget what happened. We need to pray nothing like that ever happens again. We who call upon the name of the Lord need to repent and return to seeking God’s kingdom instead of trying to build our own political kingdom. We need to get back to the Great Commission and being the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ.

We remember still.

It’s easy to micro-focus on your current situation that’s not ideal and to forget that what seems impossibly big is actually incredibly small in light of eternity. So much of what has kept me awake at night over the years didn’t really matter as much as I wanted it to matter enough to waste my anxiety on it. I’ve probably forgotten a lot of it and time has a way of putting these things into proper perspective.

I remember as a kid being afraid of quicksand. I remember “stop, drop, and roll” in case I ever burst into flames spontaneously. I seem to recall an earthquake drill or two back in the day. None of those things has turned out to be a real issue for me. I can’t say when the last time was that I stepped in quicksand or actually caught on fire. And (knock on wood) no earthquakes yet.

I also remember what someone taught me. If you can imagine the absolute worst possible scenario playing out then remember that God will still be with you, it’s not so bad. Basically, if what you’re afraid of actually came to pass — and that’s highly unlikely based on my own history of worrying — even that can’t separate you from the love of God in Christ.

Also, it’s momentary. Paul told us that the absolute worst that can happen in this lifetime is a light and momentary affliction compared to what’s coming. Hint: it’s the good stuff. It’s the absolute best possible outcome anyone who belongs to Jesus can hope for. It’s all your best daydreams and hopes and wishes multiplied by a thousand times a thousand.

You have heaven to look forward to and Jesus to with you until you get there. That makes everything worth it!

I’ve decided that I work better with older dogs. I had the opportunity to look after a 3-month old puppy recently, and as fun as they are, they are a lot of work. At least you have to keep an eye on them at every waking moment. Plus, you have to be ready to extract any weird objects from their mouths since they’re constantly looking for something to chew.

These pups I’m looking after aren’t really puppies. They’re more settled and calm. They have their moments when they can be full of energy and super cute, but they also have lots of times when they’d rather lay around and nap. I can relate to that a lot lately.

Currently, I can see both of them nestled comfortably in their spots, snoozing away. Hopefully, that will be me in a little bit. I do think there’s something peaceful and calming about a sleeping dog or cat. Maybe it’s earning their trust to the point that they’re willing to be completely unguarded around me. Maybe it’s that one of them is lightly snoring away.

Puppies are fun to play with. But older dogs are more my speed. They’ve grown into such understanding and gentle creatures who have a special kind of love that just about nothing else does. The only drawback is that they don’t live as long as people.

But I hope I get more chances to take care of these two in the future. I don’t have any favorites when it comes to dogs, but between you and me (and the whole internet), they’re secretly my favorites. But don’t let them know I told you.

“We use lights to make manifest. A Christian man [or woman] should so shine in his life, that a person could not live with him [or her] a week without knowing the gospel. His [or her] conversation should be such that all who are about him should clearly perceive whose he [or she] is, and whom he [or she] serves; and should see the image of Jesus reflected in his [or her] daily actions” (Charles Spurgeon).

A tragedy struck a family I’ve known since I was little. It happened a few days ago when a pastor and his wife were killed in a car wreck in Memphis. In a short span, three people lost both parents. So many are grieving at the sudden end of their lives.

But a beautiful thing is happening. Their tragedy is becoming a platform for the gospel to go to people who might not otherwise hear it. People will hear the message of Jesus who might ordinarily not give much thought to eternity, but with this tragic loss, will be forced to consider the claims of Christ.

My prayer is that people will come to saving faith in Jesus. I know the legacy of these two will live on as the seeds of their lives of faithfulness and dedication to the gospel will bear much fruit. The Book of Revelation says that those who die in the Lord are blessed from now on, because they rest from their labors and their work follows them. Their obedience created a ripple effect that will be felt for generations to come.

The pastor was faithful to preach the gospel and to instill the love of Jesus into his family. He and his wife are hearing the words, “Well done, good and faithful servants” and their loved ones grieve with hope because of the promise of the resurrection.

Maybe that’s the problem. If you look at the history of the Church, we’ve always thrived under persecution. That persecution isn’t the exception, it’s the norm. If you look at the Church in America, we’re the exception in that we have so much religious freedom and cultural acceptance (or at least we did and still do to an extent, though that acceptance is decreasing rapidly these days).

I don’t want anyone to think I’m in favor of the Church in the U. S. undergoing persecution. I definitely don’t want us to lose our freedom to worship how we choose. But sometimes, I wonder if all that freedom hasn’t made us soft. I heard the analogy that we have a cruise ship mentality where we want to be entertained and comfortable where the biblical idea is of a wartime battleship where we seek to save the lost at any cost (or at least point them at any cost to Jesus who saves them).

That cruise ship mentality gives us an unbiblical view of how Church works. We look for the Church to cater to us and our needs. We throw out any theology we don’t like or that makes us uncomfortable. We accommodate with the culture to maintain our comfort instead of being true salt and light with the true gospel.

I hope we can see revival. Maybe what we need is another reformation like in Martin Luther’s day. What I’m afraid is that it will take persecution and poverty and even prison to wake us up.

The greatest period of the Church in my mind was during the early days under Roman rule when it was illegal to be a Christian. So many were willing to die for their faith rather than deny Christ. The result was that the Church exploded and transformed the world, not because of all the fancy production value or the mega-million dollar facilities or the crafty branding but because they loved Jesus more than their own lives. People could see them and tell they had been with Jesus, first and foremost above all else.

That’s what we need. Not more political power. Not getting the right people elected. We need to get back to laying down our lives for Jesus and the gospel. Period.

“There is probably no prayer in the history of Christianity that has been prayed so frequently and intimately as the prayer ‘Lord, have mercy.’… This cry for mercy is possible only when we are willing to confess that somehow, somewhere, we ourselves have something to do with our losses. Crying for mercy is a recognition that blaming God, the world, or others for our losses does not do full justice to the truth of who we are. At the moment we are willing to take responsibility, even for the pain we didn’t cause directly, blaming is converted into an acknowledgment of our own role in human brokenness.

The prayer for God’s mercy comes from a heart that knows that this human brokenness is not a fatal condition of which we have become the sad victims, but the bitter fruit of the human choice to say no to love” (Henri Nouwen).

This brings to mind the parable in Luke 18 of the Pharisee and the tax collector. One basically used prayer to brag about his credentials and how he wasn’t as sinful as those around him. Basically, he believed that they were what was wrong with the world, not him.

But then there’s the tax collector praying, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

He had gut-level honesty about who he was before a holy God. He knew he couldn’t blame anyone else but only beg God for pardon and forgiveness. God heard his prayer and not the one from the Pharisee.

I also remember that back in the day, a London newspaper sent inquiries to all the leading men of the day to write in about what was wrong with the world. One of those, G. K. Chesterton, wrote back with the shortest reply. He said. “I am. Yours truly, G. K. Chesterton.”

That’s not me telling you to beat yourself up about how horrible and nasty you are. It’s being honest about who you are and who God is. It’s taking that pointed finger away from everyone else and pointing it in the mirror instead. It’s admitting your complete dependence on God and finding out that He is close to the contrite and broken-hearted.

I could go on and on about how all these other people on social media need to read this, but I think in keeping with the spirit of this post, I should be the first one.

Lord, have mercy on me.