Author: Jon Gauger

While still a tadpole himself, our son Tim liked fishing. Whenever we camped, Tim wanted to fish. But we were not always prepared. With two young kids in a pop-up camper, Diana and I thought we were doing great just to remember the cooler and the clothes, let alone bait for the fish. One unprepared weekend, we were desperate and asked George—whose trailer was next to ours—if by any chance he had any nightcrawlers we could “borrow.” He did and was only too glad to share. On another occasion, a fish swallowed Tim’s hook, and we had no extras. Would…

Do you ever marvel at the speed of evil? My dad will turn 89 this month. I recently asked him, “Is it just me, or do you feel like in the last 20 years or so, we’ve seen not just a shift toward evil, but a rush toward evil?” His response was a firm yes. When it comes to American morality, it’s not just that we’re plunging deeper and deeper into evil. It’s that we’re sliding at such an accelerated pace. Just ten or twenty years ago, what would have been considered ridiculous (by our secular society!) is now mainstream—normal….

Sadie is possibly the most adorable brown-eyed little girl you could ever meet. She's also charming, intelligent—and too old to be sucking her thumb. Nor is this lost on her mother, as evidenced in a recent conversation: Mom: Sadie! Take your fingers out of your mouth! Sadie: (Bats her long eyelashes) But mo-om…Don't you always say God made me? Mom: Yes… Sadie: And don’t you always say He made me perfect? Just exactly the way I am? Mom: Yes, but… Sadie: And doesn’t He know I am doing it RIGHT NOW? Mom: Sadie… Sadie: So REALLY, if you think about…

He is relentless. Unstoppable. And he seems to turn up just about everywhere at just the wrong time. I'm talking about my nemesis—and yours: Shame.  He’s the voice that accuses you. He’s two shots of Red Bull—at midnight. He’s the one who remembers every detail of every regret you’ve tried to forget. He's the broken record whispering your faith is too small, your prayers are too short, and your guilt is too great. That’s Shame. And he’s been on the trail—your trail—for a long time. Shame has many brothers and sisters. Unless I'm mistaken, you've met fear, resentment, and jealousy….

When I last spoke with Art Rorheim—at the age of 99—he was still memorizing the Bible. Wow! You might be too old to play baseball for the Dodgers. You might be too old to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. You might be too old for lots of things. But I’ve got good news. You’re not too old to memorize Scripture. You say, “Jon, I’m pretty sure I can’t.” I’m pretty sure you can. I’m no whiz, but may I share what has worked for me over a long time? First, choose a verse or passage that really connects with you. Something that…

It is, perhaps, our greatest wickedness: we accuse God. We, the bent— We, the broken— We, the ungodly— We accuse God.    When the job is lost— When the money is gone— When the hurt is deep— When the spouse leaves— When the dream crumbles— When circumstances don’t play out— Most of us can be counted on to accuse God. We dare approach the One who made us, lived among us, bled for us, died for us, forgave us, and accuse Him. We accuse Him of not hearing. We accuse Him of not seeing. We accuse Him of not caring….

It's a question you probably haven't been asked before—ever: How's your hate life? Your answer is critical because Psalm 97:10 says, "Let those who love the Lord hate evil." Proverbs 8:13 reinforces that message: "The fear of the LORD is to hate evil." Meaning we are to hate sin. Like many believers, you might respond, "Of course I dislike sin." But that isn't enough. God calls us to hate sin. All sin. Do we? You say, "Isn't this all just a game of semantics? Dislike versus hate—not a big deal." It's a huge deal. Here's why. What we do not…

You couldn’t help laughing out loud at the text our daughter sent. She has four kids, ages five to thirteen. And like all children, they can get on each other’s nerves. But—the text says it best: Just got complimented by a guy at Costco for my well-behaved children. (They were awful all morning). The guy turns and leaves, and our oldest—Joslynn—says, "we present a united front, but we have a ton of infighting." Who said kids don’t have a good grasp on things? Sadly, Joslynn's admission is an accurate assessment not just of the world but the Church today. We…

The other night, I felt the futility of an anxious spirit. In the gray gloom of not-yet-sleep, I pondered my past expenditures on worry. Weariness shrouded me, a sadness for all that wasted emotion and abused adrenalin. And then four words settled upon me: “It is not necessary.” I will not pretend to tell you this was the voice of God, though the thought was certainly of God: “It is not necessary.” This constant churning of ours. It is not necessary. This rehearsing and rehashing of past failures. It is not necessary. This endless doomsday forecasting we gravitate toward. It is not…

"Clean your dirty face."  That's what the sign on the store said. It made me want to grab a mirror and check for grime or grease on my mug. Curious, I picked up the store's brochure and learned they were selling thirty-minute facials. As a guy, I’m not well versed here (washing my face takes about 20 seconds). But in talking to my beautiful wife—who has beautiful skin—I learned there’s more to having a clean face than the absence of visible dirt. Hence, the availability of these thirty-minute facial treatments. Being clean is a massive theme in Scripture: David prayed,…