Take Some Courage on Veterans Day

In "Washington: A Life", Ron Chernow paints a vivid scene of courage:  

At dusk on October 14, Washington delivered a pep talk to Hamilton’s men, urging them to “act the part of firm and brave soldiers...” “I thought then that His Excellency’s knees rather shook,” said Captain Stephen Olney, “but I have since doubted whether it was not mine.” The artillery pounded the two redoubts to weaken them for the assault. Then, as night fell, with shells illuminating the sky, Hamilton and his party rose from their trenches and sprinted across the open field. To ensure speed and surprise, they had orders not to shoot their muskets but only to employ fixed bayonets. Standing on elevated ground, Washington watched the dramatic scene with Generals Lincoln and Knox. “Sir, you are too much exposed here,” urged Washington’s aide David Cobb, Jr. “Had you not better step a little back?” “Colonel Cobb,” Washington said coolly, “If you are afraid, you have liberty to step back.” 

Such was the courage of George Washington and others who stepped up when the existence of our nation hung by a thread. 

It's good for me to pause and reflect on those days especially in seasons like these when I might believe the stresses of life are unparalleled. These days are perhaps unprecedented in the span of my lifetime. But they pale in comparison to the tumult of the Revolutionary War, the Civil War and WWII. 

Veterans Day is a good reminder to pause and reflect on brave men and women who held the line when it was needed. I could use some of their courage. Perhaps you could too. 

Reflect. Remember. Then square your shoulders and face the day.   

Ordinary Success

 

My father crossed over on Labor Day. After what seemed like a prolonged goodbye with more of him on the other side than in this world, he slipped away peacefully—surrounded by family members praying and singing, along with two dogs more than confused about what was happening.

As I’ve reflected on his life, I’m struck by its simplicity, and yet the remarkable fruitfulness. He served in the Navy during the Korean conflict but never participated in any major military advance. During his military service, his peers called him “Deke”—a nickname for “Deacon” since they considered him to be a pious sort of guy. Although he would hang with them in ports of call, apparently, he never got smashed or slept around, hence the Deacon bit.

After his time in the Navy, he got married, did a short stint in college, then started moving around the States with my uncle, his brother-in-law, who planted and pastored churches in several states. I can testify to this because I moved at least six times before the age of 7. We finally settled down in northwest Louisiana in a small rural community and Dad worked as a comptroller for a paper company twenty miles south. Life was simple with farm animals, vegetable gardens, deer hunting and fishing. Although I never went deer hunting, I spent many hours in the middle of a fishing boat while he and his buddy, Tom, fished for bass in a muddy, cypress-filled lake.

Life revolved around church life. We would attend a minimum of four times per week, counting prayer meeting and mid-week Bible study. We had few devotions in the home, but there was always a sense that God was present with a high regard for prayer and scripture.

When I left for Bible college in California at the ripe age of 17, shortly after, Dad took a pastorate in upstate New York. The church had dwindled to less than 12 people. They needed a pastor and Dad said yes. So they moved all they had with another three boys at the time to the strange land of the northeast. Their southern accent and my parent’s southern ways seemed strange in a city with a high per capita of graduate degrees and PHD’s. Despite no formal Bible training and immersed in a left-leaning culture, they stayed at it for 30 years. People were saved, discipled and many moved on which is common in a college town.

I suppose if the church growth gurus would judge his life and ministry, some would say he was unsuccessful. Although there were growth spurts, the church rarely maintained an average above 100. He didn’t function like the top tier leader so many of us aspire to be. He pastored like a country parson rather than the team ministry that is common today. He did most of the counseling and discipleship alongside my mother. He rarely refused a call for assistance with a roof, a water heater, or a car. Somehow, he would get whatever it was running, although it wouldn’t be pretty, his go-to tools being a roll of duct tape and baling wire. Not that his work was shoddy. It’s just that he was always conscious of frugality and people who never seemed to have enough.

Despite this, I contend that in God’s eyes my Dad was a raging success. He never cheated on his wife or treated women as sexual objects. He received little money from the church and made the most of every dime. And today, all five sons love Jesus and serve the local church.

The modern church has a lot to learn from guys like him. He probably never listened to one sermon of John Piper or Tim Keller. His exposition was more common sense with some commentary thrown in. But he oozed Piper’s mantra for pastors: “Brothers, we are not professionals.” And for that I am grateful and I believe His Lord welcomed Him in with a hearty, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

May his tribe increase.

BE REASONABLE

I was a fort-building kid. A few pieces of tin, a pallet or two, some pine boughs and bam! A fort. The best part? As a boy, it was deciding who was in and who was out and at seven, girls were definitely out. Thankfully I wised up on that one. But I still have to be wary of the push to categorize people. 

Maybe it's left over from our ancient history as humans--the need to group up for shared protection and resources. The desire for a tribe and the feeling that comes when you are among friends "where everybody knows your name" and shares your worldview. 

As a Christian, I believe in small groups. Community is essential for flourishing. But like many good things, this also has a dark side.  It flares up when you start hearing excessive use of pronouns like us, them, we and they. 

Today's social environment applies the heat to push us into for and against, black and white, anti and pro. Then you add the American right to "have it your way" with a hundred varieties to match our preferences of everything from toothpaste to toilet paper. And when this spills over into Christian life you have the ingredients for harshness, division, bitterness and rage. 

To early Christians, Paul writes, "Let your reasonableness be KNOWN to everyone" (Php 4:5 ESV, emphasis added). Are we Christians known for our reasonableness? Do those listening in on our discussions and disagreements say, "No doubt they are passionate, but I have to say, they continue to be reasonable with one another"? This is more than simply having reasons for your position. The word reasonableness here can also be translated as gentleness (NIV, NASB, NKJV). So I ask it this way, do we have a distinguishable mark of gentleness?

Gentleness is a slippery word. Most of us reserve the word gentle for things like doctors and health products. To be a gentleman isn’t quite the compliment it once was and forget about using gentlewoman to describe a female. You'll just get a sneer. Yet Jesus speaks of Himself as gentle (Matthew 11:28) and it's to be a defining characteristic of those who are full of the Spirit (Gal. 5:23).

Somehow we need to reclaim this as an admirable trait. Call it reasonableness, gentleness or meekness. But we can't escape it. Jesus and Paul agree: followers of Christ should be marked by a reasonable attitude.

This doesn't mean having a backbone made of soft-serve ice cream, or not taking a stand on anything. Nor does it mean compromise in every situation. Sometimes compromise is not possible. There are limits to gentleness in matters of faith. But the majority of our disagreements could use a good dose of reasonableness.

As I write this, Christians in America are discussing whether government restrictions are a dangerous infringement on our freedoms. I have pastor friends who are prayerfully trying to obey God and submit to government. One of them after choosing to follow local guidelines for gatherings, received an accusation that he was, "partaking in a liberal conspiracy to destroy America.” It escalated from there. I have friends who have strong feelings on both sides of the freedom issue. The question is can we discuss these things with gentleness and respect.

Again, there are limits to when reasonableness isn't loving. If someone is attacking your wife, or your child is running into traffic, gentleness isn't the loving or appropriate response. But in many cases, we could move forward if we just applied some reasonableness to our interactions.

A question I'm asking myself these days is, "Will the outcome of this disagreement matter when we're worshipping around the throne?" Can I stand with the martyred saints and say, "I'm really glad I took that position?"

WHERE ARE THE JOYFUL MEN?

How many joyful men do you know? I asked my wife, "Do you know any guys whose dominant characteristic is joy?" Long pause. I was hoping she would say, "You!" Nope. Finally, she came up with a few and I did too. But it wasn't without some thought. Why? 

Wes Yoder in his book, Bond of Brothers, asks the question. I'll let you read and figure out why he asks.  But related to his subject, I'll say this: it's hard to be joyful when you're a poser. Posers are afraid of discovery. They fear intimacy with other guys because if they are found out the charade is over. 

The guys that I know who are marked by joy don't seem to be consumed with imaging. There's a childlike acceptance of being fully human, not super human or stuffy. They frequently laugh at themselves and still more instructive--they are more prompt at confession. 

Remember Eustace in Voyage of the Dawn Treader? He thinks of himself as the intelligent, mature one--not wasting time with childish wonder, fantasy and play. He prides himself on being a realist, an avid journalist, not missing the sophisticated perspective of everyday life. He excuses his mistakes and can't see his imperfections. And he's an insufferable person to be around.

In High School, I had a classmate, Joe, who like Eustace, was sharper than the average guy. Not in style or appearance. He often had a bad case of dandruff evidenced on his shoulders, frequently wore the same t-shirt, and would probably get high marks on the nerd scale. Once asked about the kind of shampoo he used, "Ivory Soap," he said. "You mean Ivory shampoo in a bottle?" "No, like the bar." His sister in the same classroom, gave an audible gasp and eyeroll. He rarely studied as far as I know, but got the material and aced any math test you put in front of him. He didn't compete for jock-dom and he wasn't popular with the girls. But he was joyful. (I wouldn't be surprised if he's the innovating mind behind some wildly successful startup now.)

I'm not applauding his lack of discipline. Maybe part of his persona was actually rebellion against the status quo. I don't know. But I don't think he was a poser. I think that was just joyful Joe.

When Paul wrote to first century believers and gave the dominant characteristics of the spirit-filled life, near the top of the list was, joy. When he contrasted the kingdom of God with legalism, the hard-nosed way centered on law-keeping rather than grace, he described it as, "righteousness peace and joy in the Holy Spirit." (Romans 14:17) When Jesus set forward a model of true godliness, at least once, he put forward a child as his sermon illustration. And many children I know are more joyful than most adults. 

Jesus once told a parable about two men praying. I'll paraphrase. One was expressing gratitude but it centered on who he was and wasn't: "I'm so grateful I'm able to give so much to charity and that I've managed to be consistent in my quiet time. You have kept me from being a disgusting pagan like this guy praying next to me." The other guy in a less honorable profession, is crouched down. His bright green boxers are showing above his belt and he's making a scene, praying a bit too loud, using street language. "God, it's me, Joe. I can't believe I get to call you, Father. I really need Your help again. I'm so far from being the kind of husband and daddy I want to be. Just last night, I was rude to my wife and had no sympathy for my needy 4-year old. Have mercy on me, God!" 

Jesus says it was the second guy who walked away knowing God was pleased. The other walked away pleased with himself. And I'm guessing here--but probably also less joyful. (See Luke 18:9-17)

Pride, posturing, self-importance all have a joy-chilling effect. Some of the least joyful guys I know are pastors and worship leaders with rock-star images, complete with possees, multiple "handlers" and social media consultants. On the surface they look happy but when you spend more than ten minutes with them you find they are just Eustace with a few years on him, worried about image. 

How do I know? Because I fight the need to posture, to wonder if I'm presenting my best side. I'm ashamed at how long I wait to say, "I was wrong. You're right." But I'm repenting. And God is answering my prayer. 

Join me in the quest for joy. Begin here: "Have mercy on me, oh God."    

TAKE THE LOVELY TRAIN

I'm reading my Bible and after reading a chapter I realize I don't remember one thing I've read. My mind is checking off a list of to-dos. I'm writing this now and fighting to stay focused because it's late in the day and there is a collision of conversations. One man is fearful because of the riots near their home. Another is caring for his wife who has chronic issues from kidney stones. A pastor is emotionally spent from the divisions in his church as a result of COVID--between those who won't wear a mask and those who shame them. 

How can I hold my mind together? What am I to do? 

Mental illness may become its own rising pandemic. I've watched those who suffer. I've seen the devastating effects. It's heart-breaking how some are limited by their minds in the simliar way as someone limited by their legs, arms or heart. (I'm not minimizing the effects of mental illness, just drawing an analogy.) So we bear with them. We encourage mental health. And we pray for healing.

But there are levels of mental illness. All of us could stand to get healthier in our mind. In some ways, we are all mentally ill. Even a Christian, although saved by grace, still deals with a body and a mind that is not immune to damage done by Adam's fall and his sinful sons and daughters. Including me. 

What am I to do?

I've been challenged and comforted by Paul's words to the Philipppians. Under house arrest and in less than desirable circumstances, his letter to them is marked by joy. Before he closes his letter, he writes, 

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Phil 4:8)

His "finally" statement, gives some of the best practical advice to holding yourself together when the world is falling apart. Here, he points to the battle in the mind and how to win it. Six whatevers: true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable. And two summary adjectives: excellence and praiseworthy. 

We could talk about each one, but it may be enough to say this: 

In prayer, God promises His peace as a GUARD. But it's my responsiblity to GUIDE my mind.

One of the most searched for passages in the Bible is found in vv.6-7. (Phil 4:6-7)

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

The peace that is promised to guard your mind, is not guaranteed security against stray thoughts. My spirit may be safe and secure. But my body, including my mind, is still under the effects of the Fall.  A guarded mind still needs direction. It can't be a blank whiteboard. It may be guarded, but it needs to be guided. 

So I leave the local grocery store and find a Taylor Swift song on repeat in my head. I don't even know the song. But I remember it because it was playing in the store. "Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh. You need to calm down. You're being too loud." Now, no offense to the Swift-lovers out there. Although I think she's incredibly talented, none of her songs are on my playlist anywhere. But the song plays incessantly in my head until I'm exhausted from the mental gymnastics of trying to stop it. Even though she's telling me, "I need to calm down." 

The only way to stop the song is not to scream, "Stop it." Rather, the solution is to interrupt the song by guiding my mind toward another song. I look at my playlist of favorite songs on my phone. I click PLAY. Five minutes later, a different song is bouncing in my head. What did I do? I guided it by listening and appreciating the music of another. I think this is what Paul means when he writes, "think on these things." He could've said, "Don't think about whatever is untrue, dishonorable, unjust, impure, etc." But I don't just need to know about THOSE things. I need a list of "these things" to think about. 

One of the perks that I find in major metros like NYC is the subway system. It's inexpensive, usually prompt and I can read while I ride. But if you're new to the idea, it's hard to understand the routes. Sometimes, my wife and I have hopped on the wrong one and realize we're going toward uptown when we wanted to go downtown. The only way to change the destination is to "get off at the next stop.” Why? It’s taking me somewhere I don’t want to go. And since she’s riding with me, I am concerned with her safety. I’m her guardian. She could say, “No, I’m riding on this way.” But because we're together, she guides herself with my help toward the exit and reentry onto another train. 

That’s the peace of God. When He’s riding with me, guarding my mind, he will tell me: “Shawn, that train of thought is going to take you somewhere you don’t want to go. You've been there before. You know where this is going." 

Like this scenario. You have a conversation with a friend. You “stew about it.” You rehearse it. You say to yourself: “I can’t believe they said that. I bet they’ve been talking about me behind my back.” And for a second, another voice says quietly, “Stop this kind of thinking. This is not going to end well.” But this thought leads to that thought and suddenly, you’re fuming, "I’m gonna give them a piece of my mind.

But what you’re really doing is losing another kind of "peace." When I cease to guide my mind, but allow it to get on whatever train that is sort of true, a half-truth or completely dishonorable, then I've not only lost peace for the present, peace has left the building! Left my mind entirely. Left behind at the last stop where the other trains left the building.

What are we to do? Get off at the next stop and choose a different train. Go the other direction. Because I want to go the direction God’s peace is going.

Let's make it practical. When I’m frustrated with pastoring, sometimes I think, "I should just resign.” I’ll get on a train of thought called PITY. “No one appreciates me. It’s so hard to pastor.” But I see the destination. I know where PITY train ends: at a party by myself. So I may choose to get off the PITY train and get on the train called “praiseworthy" and think on those things that saints and angels praise. 

When I’m frustrated with my wife, and I see the train coming that’s named FRUSTRATION. I know its ultimate destination. I know the last stop of Frustration train is futility! But, with the God of Peace and His help, I interrupt the schedule, and I imagine how life would be without her. I get on the train called LOVELY. I think about the best hugs in the world, or the lovely thought of seeing her get so happy when she watched the baby Cardinal take wing on his maiden voyage.

I set my mind on those things and I look over and the God of peace is with me--riding with me. Like a good friend He says, “Isn’t this a great adventure!”

What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you. (Phil 4:9)

Who is this God of peace? The Lord Jesus Himself--who is altogether true, honorable, just, pure and lovely. And so His Father and the Holy Spirit. These things are true of God Himself. And although God and Scripture isn't all we should think about, it’s a great place to start in keeping my sanity when the world is falling apart. Take the lovely train.  

IT ISN'T CHRISTIAN TO SAY NOTHING AT ALL

I grew up in the South during the heat of desegregation. I was in the 5th grade when one muggy spring day a fight broke out among the 8th graders, initiated by some racial slurs. Out the window to my left, I can see and hear crowds of whites and blacks running to the football field where nostrils flared and fears spilled out in a slugfest. My teacher, who was white, ordered all of us to put our heads down on our desks and be still. Sadie Mae Jones, on my left and Roger Jackson, behind me, are both African-American. I felt afraid for them and for me. I just wanted everyone to get along. In some ways, a lot has changed since then. But as you've seen in the news, some days it feels like nothing has changed. 

Because of the murder of George Floyd, we've seen again how racism and prejudice is still a rift that divides. A deep wound that needs healing. In many ways, I feel inadequate to speak. But when we say nothing, we say something. So here goes.

RACISM IS EVIL AND PREJUDICE IS A SIN. As Christians, we're often guilty of prioritizing certain sins. We talk about how porn eats out a man's soul and adultery begins in the heart. We speak out about abortion and sexual promiscuity. But prejudice is often underplayed with statements like, "Yeah, that's just the way they are. You know my uncle doesn't mean anything by it. He just has issues with black people." Racism isn't a worse sin than others. But it's sin nonetheless. And while sin is sin, some sins have graver consequences and do more collateral damage. Racism is one of those. 

GOD IS NOT COLOR BLIND. I've been guilty of saying He is. Probably with words like, "When God sees you, He doesn't see the color of your skin and we all bleed red." It sounds true but it isn't completely.  All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, O Lord, and shall glorify your name. (Psa 86:9) The end of our Bible tells us that God is glorified by the tapestry of the nations. "And they sang a new song: 'Who will not fear, O Lord, and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship you, for your righteous acts have been revealed."' (Rev 15:4) God loves the nations and He's a missionary God who sent His Son and now sends us to the nations. He created color and wants His family to reflect that. 

What can we do? Ultimately, as a Christian, I believe only the gospel can root out the racism in my heart. But as a citizen of two worlds, I offer some practical ways I'm growing.

1. BE INFORMED. As a white American who grew up in the South, I thought I understood the issues. I thought because I had a few "black friends" I got it. I confess I was naive and that I still don't know how subtle and deceptive racism can be. But if I've grown, it's partly because I've been intentional about reading broadly on the subject. If you're white and lean conservative, you need to read other viewpoints--even those you expect to disagree with. Here are a few to consider: 

"Between the World and Me" by Ta-Nehisi Coates

"Becoming" by Michelle Obama

"Twelve Years a Slave" by Solomon Northup

"Why We Can't Wait" by MLK, Jr. 

2. LEARN TO LAMENT. We're not good at grief. Western civilization has tried to eliminate death and push grief underground. And we aren't better for it. We've coined new descriptions for funerals like "Celebration of Life." We make light of those from the Eastern part of the world who in our eyes are over-dramatic with their grief while we effectively do drive-bys before the funeral and crack a few jokes in the parlor. While it's appropriate to celebrate life rather than death, it's not healthy nor is it biblical to ignore the sting of grief. Paul writes to the Roman Christians, who were likely experiencing persecution and injustice, "Weep with those who weep." (Rom 12:15). Over a third of the Psalms are lament. And the book you probably skim through, Lamentations, is an expression of grief over the destruction of Jerusalem. Jesus wept in His final hours before the crucifixion. Grieving is part of life and lamenting is Christian. No, we don't weep as though we don't have hope, (1 Thes 4:13). But don't interpret that to mean, we don't weep at all. Weeping with our black neighbors over the death of one of their own is not only the right thing to do. It's the Christian thing to do.

3. LEAN IN AND LISTEN. It's ironic to talk about listening in a post about speaking up. But we've forgotten how to listen well. When someone says something, I'm already thinking about my response like the world can't go on without me responding to the last thing that was said. I have a friend who has a practice of asking at least seven questions when he disagrees with someone. Maybe that's too many for you. But how about asking at least  three questions before you give your opinion? And avoid the question "why." Asking why someone does something or feels something raises defenses. Instead ask, "what and how" questions: How did you feel last night? What do you wish people understood? 

4. HAVE THE AWKWARD CONVERSATION. The elephant in the room is not slinking away just because you ignore it. On Tuesday morning, as a staff, we dove into the topic of racism. We asked the African-Americans on our team to tell us how it feels to be a minority culture in our church. We confessed our sins to one another. And we sat through awkward silence sometimes afraid to speak, not knowing what to say. But I believe we moved forward a few steps toward authentic community because of it. I've heard pastors say, "We don't talk about that. We preach about how we are one in Christ and emphasize that. You get more of what you emphasize. If you talk about racism, it will just get worse." I disagree. How can our black brothers and sisters begin to heal if we act like nothing happened? Don't just tweet, post, and give thumbs up on social media. Sit across the table from someone different than you and ask questions. Yes, there will be awkward moments but loving well includes listening well. And that includes the ministry of presence in the in-between. 

5. BE INTENTIONAL WITH CROSS-CULTURAL FRIENDSHIPS. Let's go deeper than saying, "I have black friends." Do life together. Pray. Play. Have dinner. Celebrate the uniqueness of other cultures. This has been a gift to me and I'm grateful. One of the sweeter moments I've had in the last few years was going to Pappy's BBQ with my friend, Kempton, who happens to be black. Going to our cars, we paused on the parking lot, and locked shoulders for a moment and prayed. I know people were watching but I didn't care. I felt alive. I felt healing. It was beautiful. 

Long after the news of George Floyd dies down, there will be another tragic incident. Racism isn't going away. But I'm hopeful that a bit of healing will flow through His church in these days. One day those in Christ will worship as one multi-cultural family. John, the friend of Jesus, saw a vision of the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, the leaves of which "were used for medicine to heal the nations." We will taste of the healing together as a dark-skinned Messiah is crowned King of all. Till then, we pray, we weep and we hope.  

THE CORONA REVIVAL???

An interior photograph of the Billy Sunday tabernacle that was built in Lima for his six-week revival in 1911

(Courtesy of Allen County Historical Society)

Last Friday, Morris Chapman died. Many won't recognize the name or remember his era. I learned about Morris in the 90's. It was the peak of the Promise Keeper movement, an organization centered loosely on Seven Promises that men would commit to during the year. The highlight was to attend one of these huge conferences of 40 to 60 thousand guys in a stadium for a weekend. I can only compare it to a football game without a football, with Jesus as the Hero. Hearing that many men sing with gusto was electrifying. 

For roughly six years, Morris was one of the key worship leaders and his vocal combination of soul and substance defined many of the great Promise Keeper moments. (If you want a sense of it, listen to Morris sing his original song, "As for me and my house" at an event in 1996.) Hearing of his passing made me reminisce with a bit of melancholy for those days.

I was impacted by those years. I personally know more than one guy who credits Promise Keepers with saving his marriage and initiating a radical change in his walk with God. 

Promise Keepers is still around, but it's not what it once was. Forgive me. I know some of you guys will object, saying it's pastors like me that let revival die. I've had several guys come around now and then, and say, "When will the men get back to those days?" When I talk about what God is doing now in men, there is often the sigh, the downcast glance, that says, "You just don't get it, Pastor. Revival needs to come back to the Church and you're closing the door on it."

Whether it's PromiseKeepers, the Jesus Movement and the Charismatic Renewal of the early 70's, Brownsville, Toronto Blessing, or Stoneleigh Bible Week of the 90's in the UK, if we were impacted personally by those events, it's normal to reminisce and long for those days to come back. I get it.

I've done a fair amount of reading on the Great Awakenings of the 1730's, 1790's, 1850's, and beyond like the Welsh Revival of 1904-5. Why? Because I want to see that in my day. Scenes like after one of the worst financial panics in history, October 14, 1857, when thousands of men--lawyers, bankers, clerks and merchants started gathering for prayer during the noon hour in New York City. It became known as the "Fulton Street Prayer Meeting." As the markets crashed and people started going hungry, they became desperate. In the following months, news spread about unusual numbers of conversions as in Hamilton (Ontario, CA) where 300-400 were converted to Christianity in a matter of days.

So I get it. I long for some of what I've seen to happen again. But God seems to have His own methods and plans. Whatever He does, it likely won't be the same as it was. Yes, there are signs that are common to every revival or renewal: prayer, repentance, confession, humility, focus on scripture, spontaneous worship, extended singing. (No, that's not an exclusive list and there are often other signs like a renewed focus on spiritual gifts.) 

You bet I'm grateful for Morris Chapman, and for Promise Keepers. I'll treasure those moments for years to come. (And if you're attending one of their events in the future, may God do a new work in your life.) But when renewal happens again, Morris won't be leading worship and it may or may not include men in football stadiums. Will it be in NYC or Wales? Who knows? Maybe someday they will talk about the Corona Revival that began in 2020 in St. Louis.

I'm not an authority on revival history, but doesn't spiritual renewal often come on the heels of crisis? One of my prayers during this pandemic has been, "Lord, don't let me waste this crisis." While I'm longing to get back to "normal life" God may have something greater in mind than my comfort. Is that what God wants for you? Your comfort? While you and I long for the placid, tranquil waters of normal during this Corona storm, God may be asking us to get out of the boat and walk with Him.  (Click to Tweet)

"Move among us again, Lord. But do it however you want to do it. In your kindness, let me be right in the thick of it."