The Way

When life gets tough and mistakes are made, when I get lost and can’t find my way, I often think I’ve got to get up, somehow find the path again and prove to God I am worthy of His love.

It struck me this morning in listening to the Book of John that Christ is THE Way.

There is no path to find. There is only surrender of my will to give.

“Your Will Christ, Save me from myself.”

Christ is the path. And I am ALWAYS worthy of His love.

He paid the price. He makes up the impossible difference between the perfection of the Father and the decrepit state of this world, my mistakes, missteps and rebellion.

It is in Christ that I am redeemed.

And He is the Way.

By Pete, Writing Team

All In

It was while serving a mission for my church that I first heard the notion, “it’s easier to give 100 percent than 90.” I’ve heard it a few times since, and a quick internet search tells me that the expression comes from Clayton Christensen, a Harvard Business School professor. His exact quote was, “It’s easier to hold your principles 100 percent of the time than it is to hold them 98 percent of the time.”

The idea here is that if you decide to mostly hold to your commitments, but allow yourself a few exceptions, then every moment of temptation becomes a decision point: “Is this one of the times I let myself indulge? Am I allowed to give in?” This causes mental and emotional fatigue, and keeps your mind considering the indulgence longer, greatly increasing the likelihood of giving in. But if you’ve decided that you’re holding to your commitments 100% of the time, then there’s no internal debate, no toying around with the idea of giving in, no trying to gauge how far you can go without going too far. You just bypass all of that and jump straight to, “No, I’m not doing that.”

As you might have guessed, this applies directly to addiction recovery and how we deal with cravings. I myself tried for many years to use the strategy of gradually reducing my slips. I told myself that I’d only allow myself one pornography viewing a week, then once every other week, then once a month, and so on. It never worked.

Each time I was confronted by temptation I went through an inner monologue. “Should this be my indulgence of the week, or should I save it for later?...I already gave in once this week, but what if I do it twice this week and not at all next week?...Well, what if I don’t fully slip? Just enough to get a lust hit, but no further?” Care to guess how many of these internal debates ended in me staying sober? Yeah, none of them. I was inviting justification into the decision process, and that meant I was doomed from the start.

For some people, a gradual reduction might actually work, but pretty much everyone I personally know who has had real success in recovery has only done so from a place of 100% commitment. There is just so much more strength in how one approaches temptation when he can say, “There’s no discussion to be had, the answer is no, I’ve already made my decision.”

Of course, 100% commitment is not necessarily the same as 100% success. The fact is, I have had some relapses since I started wholehearted recovery. I have had to forgive myself for not measuring up, and also accepted the possibility of an imperfect success rate moving forward. That doesn’t mean that I have lowered the bar for my intentions, though, or excused myself to toy around with temptation. I still approach each day with the mentality that I’m giving it my all. As a result, the times I have slipped have been rare, brief, and isolated—what was once the norm has become the exception.

By Abe, Writing Team

Good Father

What follows is a short Father’s Day sermon or talk I was asked to write for a loved one. It addresses fatherlessness and fathering and points to our loving, powerful God.

Good fathers

Early one fall morning, on a stretch of highway between cities, a semi truck crossed over into oncoming traffic. The resulting accident took the life of a young father, leaving his son, David, fatherless at the age of 9.

Most of us can’t know what it means to lose a father at that age. Fathers are priceless. In many ways, our fathers stand as a proxy for God, providing shelter, sustenance, guidance, and love. They help shape our lives. Good fathers give and teach us strength, protection, discipline, and adventure. They give us our first glimpse of what it means to be fully known and still accepted. But the most important thing they do is to paint an image of God in our hearts and minds.

Prodigal son

The parable of the prodigal son gives us the perfect story to show this. We often focus on how the son wasted his inheritance, but the real message is in what the father does when the son shuffles shamefully up the path to the house.

“While he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20)

The father didn’t wait to hear an apology before running to him. And the father doesn’t stop there. When the older son becomes angry and self-righteous, the father responds to him with love as well. That’s what fathers do—after teaching and setting expectations, they respond to their children in love, especially when those children are struggling. That father and his story paint an accurate image of God.

Fathers can’t do it alone

The pressure to do this well must weigh heavily on our fathers, and every father knows they’ll fall short in some way. God knows this, too. He doesn’t leave them to do it alone.

David’s father was taken way too soon. But he wasn’t left entirely fatherless. His grandfather and men from his church stepped in. They fathered him as best they could. They protected, guided, and loved him. They taught him to work, to love, and to adventure. They provided an image of God.

God does this for all of us. Good men are inspired to step up and into our lives in countless ways. Grandfathers, uncles, brothers, friends, and others support our fathers in their responsibilities, working to see that our lives are full and that our image of God is accurate and complete.

Esther

I think of the bible story of Esther. She was an orphaned Jewish girl during the Babylonian exile. Mordecai stepped in and treated her as his own daughter. He provided for her, raised her with wisdom, and guided her throughout her life. When she unexpectedly became queen, Mordecai didn’t stop fathering her. Instead, he gently counseled her and urged her to step into her divine moment to save her entire people from destruction.

Mordecai shows us that fatherhood isn’t just about biology—it’s about presence, courage, and helping us rise when things are tough. And again, fathers paint an image of God in our hearts and minds.

Reasons to doubt

When David was 16, he took a summer job as a furnace cleaner for one of the men who had stepped into his life. One day, his boss asked him to run an errand with him, and together they drove away from the work site. It wasn’t long before they were turning down David’s home street, and he knew they weren’t running an errand. Cancer had come for his mother - by now, David’s best friend. Tears flowed as his boss confirmed that this was the day he’d been dreading. He was held as his mother’s lifeless body was wheeled away.

Things got rough after that. Finishing high school parentless was followed by a violent drill sergeant and a misguided mission president who left emotional wounds that sent David spinning, wondering why pain seemed to dominate his life.

David must have felt much like the Jewish victim in the parable of the Good Samaritan - beaten, stripped, and left for dead—anonymous, vulnerable, and alone. In the parable, most people pass by the victim, but a Samaritan, someone hated by the Jews, sees and helps him. The good Samaritan was a kind of father: nurturing, responsible, protective, and generous. He sees someone who is “other” and treats him like kin. The message is clear—fathering isn’t just about tribes, friendship, or common beliefs—it’s about stepping up and into the lives of anyone in need.

Good people saw David, too. God put solid friends and then a lovely young woman in his path. They were good influences and helped him through difficult times. Eventually, fighting fear that he wasn’t enough and that he, himself, could die and leave children orphaned, he made a life and a family with the young woman.

Sometimes we’re left with every reason to doubt that God is present in our lives and that he is a good father. I’m glad David didn’t - and that God sent good people to help father him. Because, as my father, he has provided me with shelter, sustenance, guidance, and love. He’s given and taught me strength, protection, discipline, and adventure. He’s shaped my life.

But the most important thing he’s done is to point me to my Heavenly Father.

Thanks in large part to my earthly father, I feel my Heavenly Father’s love. Just as the prodigal son experienced, my Heavenly Father runs to me with arms wide open.

By Ty, Writing Team