I spent a rare evening watching TV the other night.  As networks do, they promoted the living daylights out of their fall lineup.  At the top of the heap: “Television’s number one new drama, ‘Evil.’”

So successful is their search engine optimization, that if you Google “Evil,” at the top of the list is this "American drama series." As if evil itself were a distinctly American value or cultural distinctive.  Or is that actually the truth?

93% of Google users like this new TV show and Rotten Tomatoes gives it a respectable rating of 81%.  One reviewer describes it as “Like ‘X-Files’ for spiritual and supernatural phenomena.”

Not having seen an episode, I’ll not comment on the content.  My issue is with the title.  CBS deliberately chose this wording entirely confident that "Evil" would be intriguing—even favorable—-to a vast swathe of Americans. And apparently, it is.

That, folks, is a problem.

It is one thing for evil to be present in society—what society could ever claim to have ever been free of its claws?  It is quite another to celebrate it.  Which is what television is doing.

Jesus prayed, "Deliver us from evil." But increasingly, our culture is drawn to it.  Far from the maxim, to "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil," we embrace it, engage it, and enjoy it.

As Francis Schaefer asked so many years ago, "How should we then live?" Philippians 4:8 cuts right to the chase:

“Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.”

God help America when evil is “an American Drama.”

When a five-year-old gets saved, does she turn from a life of sin and embrace radical change?  Lucy has.

At this summer's Vacation Bible School, Lucy received Christ as her Savior.  She understood the definition of sin—and her guilt.  She understood that only by receiving Christ's offer of forgiveness purchased by His death on the cross could she become a child of God.

Lucy’s mother says there is now a marked difference in Lucy’s conduct. So much so, there is no way to account for such a radical turn-for-the-best other than this little child’s decision to receive Jesus. 

The other day, Lucy’s three-year-old sister, Sadie, happened to be nearby when an evangelistic surge came over her born again older sister. The conversation, recorded by her mother, went like this. 

Lucy was hanging up some of Sadie’s clothes, belting out the Awana theme song. Then she abruptly stopped her singing and said, “Sadie, you need to make a decision. I am telling you—sinners do NOT make it into heaven! Don’t you want to see Jesus?”

Sadie sat there pondering such biblical bombast and meekly replied, “Well, I want to see Great-Grandma “Fergeenia’” (who passed away last September).

No one was going to sidetrack Lucy.  "Sadie, it is a fact that she is there and waiting for you. But you must make a choice!"

Lucy is right, of course.  You have to make a choice. Have you?  Have you absolutely positively asked Christ to be the Leader of your life and the Forgiver of your sins?  If not, why not do so right now? 

If you have given your life to Christ, what difference is He making?  Shouldn’t there be change?  Lots of change?  And shouldn’t it be constant—ongoing—daily?

When I grow up, I want to be like Lucy: radically changed by Jesus, and radically unashamed of His gospel!

It’s not every day you get asked to shoot photos of an NFL star.  But it happened this week when former running back Matt Forte visited Moody Radio’s studios for an interview.

At age 32, Matt is still tall, still buff, and—frankly—an intimidating presence.  Chicago fans easily remember watching him blasting through tacklers, spinning past brute defenders, and carrying the Bears’ offense—game after game (9,796 career yards). 

No matter how you look at him, Matt Forte is impressive.  While most running backs last less than three seasons, Matt played ten.  And two of those seasons, he was elected to the Pro Bowl. 

The guy could run and catch, being one of only three players in the NFL’s “1,000-yard-rushing, 100-catch-season club.”  Imagine having a career average of 4.2 yards per carry, 54 career rushing touchdowns, and 21 receiving touchdowns.

So what’s the most important thing you should know about Matt Forte?  It’s this: Matt is a real-deal follower of Jesus Christ.  Snapping pictures as he spoke, I was impressed with his command of Bible passages and stories.  That’s something you wouldn’t encounter on Monday Night Football or ESPN.  Nor would you see something like that in a Sports Illustrated story about his career.

Matt spoke about the importance of not just having a Bible, but really reading that Bible—digging in for yourself and bulking up on biblical truth. All of which leads me to ask a simple question.

What’s the most important thing about you?  Is it the workplace “touchdowns” you’ve scored?  Is it the social status you’ve reached?  The money you’ve made?  The car you drive? What do others observe as the driving force in your life?  Is it your stuff—or your Savior?

It’s easy to claim we put God first—but our friends and family know the truth.  They know what we rush to the second we finish dinner, or when we have a free Saturday.

I’m learning it’s disturbingly easy to let my priorities get out of whack.  Easy to go after the wrong things with the most zest. Best heed the familiar advice of Jesus who urged us…

See first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. 

—Matthew 6:33

When Africans visit the USA, I wonder what stands out to them.  What makes them scratch their heads and say, “Why?” As for what makes this American scratch his head while visiting Africa, that I can answer in one word: insects.

Ten trips to the vast expanse called Africa have done nothing to dampen my love and admiration for this massive continent.  But frankly, I do wonder about the bugs. 

I’ve come across insects so bulbous and so massive, their wingspans appear to rival small aircraft (well, almost that big).  Indeed, Africa’s flying insects are an air force unto themselves. 

Visiting a restroom in Ghana, I heard a sound like dishes being shoved about in a china cupboard.  Turned out it was “merely” a single large flying something or other. 

But here's the kicker.  Despite the hordes of gigantic insects, you will find comparatively few screens on windows and doors.  In homes wealthy and not so wealthy, screens are a "maybe" item at best. Why?

Aren’t these people bothered by the insects? Why don’t more of them choose to protect themselves from the onslaught of creepy crawlers?  I wonder if they are so used to beetles the size of small birds, they don't even notice them. 

My missionary friend, Dr. Bill Rapier, founder of African Leadership Development reminded me, "If you've never had it (a window screen), you probably don't know there is such a thing!"  You can't miss what you've never known. Plus, Bill reminds me, there is widespread use of window sheers that does help with the bugs. 

Allow me a hairpin turn as I ask, why don’t more of us put up more of a protective barrier against the sin all around us?  The doors and windows of our souls are often left entirely open and unprotected.   We pay little heed to the little—and large—critters that eat away at our holiness, gnaw at our peace, and sting us with the reality of our failures.

I'm amazed at the number of times I've fallen for the same sins.  I'm embarrassed by the way the confession of those sins sounds ridiculously repetitive.

Is it possible we’ve become so familiar with sin, it no longer bothers us?  Any chance we may have become so used to some sins we no longer screen them out?  Just wondering and just struggling—like you, perhaps.

Thanks for letting me…um…bug you.

How large does a rudder need to be to steer a ship?

Perched on the upper deck of the Volunteer, I sensed the hull of our 29,000-pound boat gliding noiselessly through the shaded waters.  The complete ease of our ride belied the sweat equity invested by thousands of workers over 12 years.  Consider—at a pay rate of $1 per day, they dug the 97 miles of the Illinois & Michigan Canal entirely by hand. 

After the canal’s completion in 1848, ships transporting fruits and vegetables and other goods were all hauled by mules.  Calling us back to those simpler days, a single mule tugged our 75-foot boat.  Its hooves dimpled the dust of what is today a bike path, the guide rope briefly dancing in the water now and then.

Strolling to the back of the ship, I studied the man operating the tiller.  Noting that he'd offered a little boy a turn at steering, I wondered if he’d also indulge a bigger boy.

And there I was, hands on the tiller, guiding the boat through the narrow canal. Right away, I noticed how difficult it was to steer because the upper deck blocked most of the forward view.  You had to stick your head over the sidewall to see what was ahead.

Fortunately for me, the captain performed that task rather capably and told me how far to rotate the tiller.  I moved it more frequently and at a greater sweep of range than you might imagine.

At one point, I asked the captain how big the rudder was.  “Two foot by two foot” came the reply.   A mighty small chunk of metal steering a rather large boat, I thought.

But isn't that the very point of the warning in James chapter three, regarding the power of the tongue?  Verse four cautions, "Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs."

That “very small rudder” holds enormous potential for good or evil.  Verse eight summarizes, “No human being can tame the tongue.  It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” 

You already know life is not a pleasurable ride down a shaded canal.  You alone know the daily moments that tempt you to steer your speech in the wrong direction. I’m with you, for sure. Maybe the prayer of Psalms 141:3 is the one we need most:

Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth.  Keep watch over the door of my lips.