The Bible is clear about martyrs and the fact that many will suffer for the gospel. Hebrews 11 famously talks about believers that were tortured, stoned, mistreated, and viciously killed for spreading the word of God. We know that this kind of persecution for faith in God continues today, especially in countries that have no freedom to practice Christianity like China or the Middle East.

But a lot of the time, we don’t share stories of those martyrs and the truths they died for. And why? Because in the end, they are stories that could help to strengthen and fortify our own faith. The truth is, we’re deeply blessed. We live in a country where it’s still widely condoned to go to church and practice our faith, but what if that weren’t the case?

I think anyone living the human experience can agree that sometimes, life just happens. It’s just a fact of life, that one day you feel like you're flying, only to find the next day that you were actually falling. You were never flying at all. Any number of things could happen to you. You could crash your car. You could lose your job. You could find out your spouse is cheating. You could walk through grieving a loved one. 

Personally, I’ve recently found out someone very close to me– one of my best friends– has cancer. If you’ve ever been in the position where you’re a part of the support system for someone going through cancer, you’ll know there are many emotions attached. There’s grief that life is about to change radically as your loved one walks through treatment; trying to do everything you can and feeling like it’s not enough. There’s worry for the days ahead and the many outcomes that can happen. And at the same time, there’s an adamant and stubborn desire to remain strong for that person, wanting to be encouraging and steadfast and ready to dig your heels in and help that person fight.

In John 2, Jesus attends a wedding in which the wine runs out. In those days, it was a party foul to host a wedding and not have enough wine for the whole party. When the wine runs out, Jesus’ mother, Mary, asks Him to intervene and sends a few servants to help Him rectify the situation. Jesus tells the servants to fill up the waterpots that were being used for the purification ritual for the wedding ceremony. The servants fill up these six stone jars that each hold about twenty to thirty gallons.

On July 11, 2024, Lily Anne Wente was born at 11:29 a.m. She weighed 8 lbs 2 oz and measures 21.5 inches long.

Exactly one year ago, my little family found itself in a moment of crisis. Sam’s job came to an end at the church in North Carolina. For months, he was scouring job boards looking for a new pastoral job while delivering pizzas to help supplement our income. Church job searches are a long, drawn out process, and most require you to appear at the church and guest preach so the congregation can meet you, your family, and get an idea of how you would shepherd the church.

I was baptized somewhere in my early teens. If I had to guess, I was somewhere in between 12 and 14. If you ask my mom, she probably remembers for sure. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy brain, or that it happened so long ago, but there aren’t too many details I remember of that day. I remember I was baptized with two of my childhood church friends. I remember the water was warm. I remember that I didn’t want to say anything into the microphone to the congregation watching. When I emerged, my dad was on the other side of the baptismal with a towel and one of the biggest smiles on his face.

When I was pregnant with Piper, the craziest idea to wrap my head around was that she felt so far away and yet she was literally right with me all the time. It’s hard to reconcile those feelings: that your child, being grown inside your body, feels so far away because it take nine months to grow them. You can’t hold them. You can’t see them. You can’t track their progress outside of your own growing belly and the occasional scheduled sonogram. Sure, you feel your baby kick and move around inside you, and you talk to them constantly, but for some reason, in my brain, it always felt like my daughter was a million miles away. Until she was born, then POP! All of a sudden, she was real and there and bigger than I could imagine being stuffed up inside my belly.

Could you imagine being Zecharias? He encountered an angel in the temple that told him he was going to be a father in his old age. His first reaction was doubt and he lost his voice as a result. This rendered him a mute for the entirety of his wife’s pregnancy; and as he watched the evidence of this miracle grow within his wife– the very proof he asked the angel for when he found out about his son– he was unable to rejoice in it with his words. During Elizabeth’s delivery, Zecharias could not offer her words of comfort or encouragement. In the first days of John’s life, Zecharias watched God’s marvelous plan unfolding in real time, in the midst of it and yet somehow sidelined at the same time.

It took Israel three months from their exodus of Egypt until they took up residence around Mount Sinai. In those three months, they saw the end of their slavery, deliverance from Egypt, they walked across the Red Sea, witnessed God’s miraculous provision of food and water, and won a war in God’s name. They saw evidence upon evidence of God’s love and care for them; His strength and power over their enemies and yet His protection over this chosen nation. Israel would go on to spend a long time in the wilderness of Sinai and a lot of their societal structure would be established there. Nevertheless, God wanted to meet His people at Mount Sinai the way He met Moses from within the burning bush.

It seriously boggles my mind how quickly Israel could forget God’s goodness, mercy, and provision towards them. The Jews left Egypt and began their journey in the wilderness in Exodus 15, and here we are in chapter 17 and already we’ve seen 3 different iterations of them having a need, shaking their fists and Moses and God about it, not trusting in God to fill it, and God supernaturally proving Himself by fulfilling their need with a miracle. And what’s worse is that those are just a couple of chapters at the beginning of a 40 year-long journey! We know that there are still many, many more times that Israel repeated that same pattern.

But we are the same way. And just think: If Israel found it hard to rely on God and constantly fell into habits of questioning Him despite the miracles and wonders they witnessed, how much more so is it for us?

The Israelites ate manna for all forty years they wandered in the wilderness. For a younger generation of Israelites, that was for all their lives. Think about that: Every day, for forty years, everyone would go out at the break of dawn and sweep up manna. And even though manna is known as “bread from heaven,” it didn’t drop down from the sky in loaves. Angels didn’t deliver it to the entrances of each tent wrapped in a tea towel and warm from God’s heavenly oven. No, every morning, Israel would wake up, head outside, and sweep up the manna– it materialized in the morning dew and as the sun rose, the water would evaporate off and leave behind a small seed the size of coriander or a mustard seed. Because it was so small and fine, most people swept it up rather than gathering it piece by piece; which they had to do early in the morning, because as the sun rose later in the day, that manna would also melt away.

In 2014, back in the days before this website existed, God laid it on my heart to go on a mission trip to Africa. At the onset, I thought the obvious path was to go with a family friend that had an organization in Tanzania. That mission would consist of traveling in the African bush, visiting tribes and ministering to them over the course of about two or three weeks. There were months of planning, between figuring out what vaccines I’d need, supplies, putting my finances in order to fund it, and travel logistics. Finally, it came time to buy the plane tickets and try as I did, confirming a booking proved impossible. I’d have the tickets, pick my seat, enter my payment information, and submit, but for some reason each time I tried, the seat was no longer available. This happened several times with multiple airlines before my mom stepped in and voiced my own concern: Something wasn’t right.

If you witnessed God parting the Red Sea and were a part of all the rejoicing and worship that happened immediately after, how long would it take for you to become desensitized to that experience? How long would it take for you to fall back into complacency, doubt, or an overall questioning of God’s timing, wisdom, plan, etc? A few weeks? A month? A year? Do you know how long it took Israel to go from triumphant praise at the awe-striking power and provision of God to grumbling and complaining over external hardship?

The devil is a roaring lion. He roars constantly. He roars during our persecutions. Asking why God would do what He’s doing? Why would He let us suffer in this way? Where is He? Has He forgotten you? He roars during times of uncertainty. How can God possibly work through this? Didn’t He say He loved you? Didn’t He claim nothing was impossible? Maybe that promise was for someone else. Not for you.

Who read today’s key verse and made a double-take when Peter said, “For it is time for judgment to begin with God’s household?” Maybe that’s something that catches us off guard– that God would commence His judgment starting in His household, that is the family of God. But how many times do we pray a prayer that sounds like this: “Lord, let your move start with me. Let your change start with me. Let your kingdom come through me.” The truth is, a lot of the time, we ask God to start with us. If His kingdom is to be built on this earth, we want to be in on the ground floor. If He is going to shake things up and let His Holy Spirit move on earth, we want to ride that wave and experience it.

When I’m angry at someone, the last thing I want to hear is that I need to be the bigger person. I think that’s a normal response to being told to take the high road when you’d rather slum it on the low one. And there will be times when it almost pains you to take the high road. Because the person that’s hurt you has hit you so close to home that your heart breaks. Or because someone you love or trusted is the one who did the damage.

I remember being 20 years old at a Friday night worship service. It was an all-are-welcome event, so we brought the youth up from the church basement to be a part of it. In the middle of a song, I felt a little tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see my Pastor, David Knapp, standing next to me. With a little smile on his face, he leaned down so I could hear him and said, “Do you think the youth band has a song they’d like to share?” At this point, we had a small youth band comprised of a handful of teens who were mostly self-taught in their instruments. Still, I nodded and he said, “I’ll let the team on the altar know that the youth are going to lead after the next song.”