The landscaping is as manicured as any garden at Kensington Palace. Inside, the walls are adorned with soothing art. A sunroom lined with rocking chairs beckons us to pause and unwind. But we are not here to relax. We are here to say goodbye.

As we inch down the halls, I struggle to harmonize the solitude I see with my eyes and the storm I feel in my gut. We are here to visit my brother and his dying wife. She has courageously fought three types of cancer over three decades, and her journey now takes her to a hospice center.

Here, the staff is pleasant, the carpeting is pleasant, the lighting is pleasant—but the visit is not. Even for believers committed to the resurrection, we cannot wallpaper over the sadness of death. And for a moment, the cynic in me asks if all this pleasantness is pointless.

Two realities then thump my soul. First, the beauty and serenity of this place are as much for the living as for the dying. Hospice care represents the last of the long goodbyes. Why shouldn't the surroundings be as beautiful and comfortable as possible?

The second reality: we’re all terminal. I’m terminal. You’re terminal. Because of sin, every person you will ever meet is terminal.

The young dudes at your health club—the ones that eat clean and drink all the right juice extracts—they are terminal. The people you game with online, the barista who makes your coffee, the office lady in the adjacent cubicle, and the neighbors next door all have an eternal soul. And they are all terminal.

When someone we care about is in hospice, we go to great lengths to call, visit, and encourage them before they pass away. But dare we show any less concern for our “healthy” friends and neighbors who are without Jesus—and (ultimately) terminal?

If we know Jesus—and they don’t—how can we be comfortable not sharing something of Christ? A kind act, an offer to pray, an invitation to your church or outreach event—it’s time to make a statement for Jesus. Because—we’re all terminal.

“…Each person is destined to die once, and after that comes judgment,”

–Hebrews 9:27

Photo by Bret Kavanaugh on Unsplash

It’s a teenager’s worst nightmare: waking up with a giant red pimple in the middle of their forehead. In the world of dermatology, it’s just a blemish, but to a teen, it’s life and death.

But for followers of Christ, there’s a much worse blemish: an attitude of grumbling.

My wife, Diana, has observed that I can easily whine—which is Grumble’s twin. Diana’s right (she usually is!). So, I’ve had to confess this sin.

For some of us, grumbling is a visit. For others, it's a destination. And some of us don't appear happy—unless we're grumbling. But if you and I are going to shine as lights in the world, we must ruthlessly eliminate the spirit of grumbling.

Philippians 2:15 reminds us we live amid "a crooked and twisted generation." That's the dark truth. Yet the verse also shares the bright hope: that Christians would be "blameless and innocent children of God without blemish…in a generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world."

The path to victory? Verse 14 says, "Do all things without grumbling or questioning."

• Grumbling is a blemish on the face of our faith.
• Grumbling is what the crooked and twisted do.
• Grumbling makes us less like God and more like the world.
• Grumbling dims our gospel light!

It's time to confess our grumbling—all of it: the silent grumbles no one hears, the mumbled grumbles we secretly wish they would hear, and the noisy grumbles we voice to our friends and family.

There are no grumblers in heaven.

Why should we be grumblers on earth?

‘nough said.

What if the only people allowed to sing worship songs this Sunday were those who had worshipped God by sharing the gospel with someone? What if the only worship leaders who could stand up on stage this weekend were those who'd offered a verbal witness for Christ within the last twelve months?

How loud would the music be in our churches? I suspect “not very.”

Has any generation in the history of Christianity had more worship songs than ours? We love inspiring worship music (I do!). But is it possible we love to sing more than to obey?

Many believers use the words worship and music interchangeably, as if worship equals music. In fact, we can't imagine worship without music. But God sees worship as much larger than that. His definition centers on the concept of obedience.

In John 14:15, Jesus said, "If you love me, you will obey what I command.” And what was the very last command He left us with? “Go into all the world and preach the gospel” (Mark 16:15).

Sharing Jesus verbally is not optional. Jesus didn't say we could opt out if we are introverts or skip this part if it makes us nervous. The only question is, are we obeying?

In Matthew 15:8, Jesus said of the Pharisees, 'These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me." Could that also describe us?

We sing all those great worship songs with our lips. But if we don't honestly care about lost people or regularly share Christ verbally, our hearts are far from Him!

He came to seek and to save the lost!

He transferred that assignment to us (though only Christ can ultimately save). 

Is that our passion?

Someday soon, Jesus is coming back. What will He find then—great bands doing worship music—or great bands of worshippers sharing the gospel, who then sing about it on Sundays?

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

It may not be the rodeo capital of the world, but Shipshewana, Indiana, hosted an action-packed, cow-punchin' event I'll always remember.

The pros there made it look easy, but trying to lasso a calf in just three tries (while being stop-watched) is no easy task. Once lassoed, the real fun began. The cowboys had to tie up the calf's legs and "brand" it with white paint.

But not one of those calves had the slightest interest in being tied up, so they raised plenty of dust. We saw one team lasso their calf almost immediately. In just a few more seconds, they had the hooves all tied up.

But no sooner had the cowboys wrapped up the legs of that calf—victory at hand—when the thing burst free of the ropes and raced around the arena, mocking the cowboys (now on the ground) while delighting the crowd. In one swift kick, that poor team went from most points to no points.

Those dusty, disappointing failures reminded me of a few of my own. That unraveled rodeo moment pictures our battle with besetting sin. Like a good cowboy or cowgirl, we've prepped to fight it. We're prayed up, read up, and fired up.

We're sure we've kicked that bad habit or got that annoying temptation tied up. And then—boom! We’re knocked into the dirt, sitting on our spiritual rear-ends.

Aren't you glad God doesn't keep score with a stopwatch? Aren't you grateful we're not disqualified because we've messed up two—or even twenty-two times?

In the rodeo of life, the thing that matters most is the presence of God—and the gift of His grace. So, by all means, let’s keep up our struggle against sin. But when we fail, let’s climb out of the dust and into God’s grace. Because there's always grace for cowboys--like us.

He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time.  -2 Timothy 1:9

Passports are serious business.

If you’re traveling internationally, you better have one. And it better be valid.

I once flew with a group to Ghana, West Africa. Upon arrival, one team member couldn't get in! They told him his passport was invalid because it was less than six months from expiring. The guy flew thousands of miles only to be turned around and sent back on the next flight to America.

Passports are serious business. Above all, they vouch for our citizenship. They speak to the rights and protection offered by our home country. But believers have a different passport. We read in Philippians 3:20,

"For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ."

Catch that? Our citizenship is in heaven. Not here. Not now. Not on this broken planet where they scarcely recognize a heavenly passport.

We await a Savior, Jesus Christ, who will completely transform our lowly bodies. Which means we're not waiting for gloom, doom, and death.

It’s not that we won’t hurt, bleed, or die. But we have something better to look forward to afterward. Perfection, beauty, peace, grace, Christ—that’s our future. What a Savior we have! What a future is ours!

Next time you’re tempted to go AWOL into a dark emotional corner, reach for your heavenly passport—-and pray this:

Thank you, Lord!

• My citizenship is in heaven!
• My home is there.
• My rights are there.
• My life is there.
• My hope is there.
• My affection is there.
• My rewards are there.

And best of all—my Savior is there!

Lord, let my life be consumed by heaven:

• Its vastness…
• Its eternity…
• Its people…

Let me be driven by heaven in my thinking, speaking, and doing. And let heaven be the fuel and force of my love for lost people.

Amen!