Articles & Posts
The Way Things Work
A boy with a bb gun on his grandfather’s ranch and the entire summer before him is the richest man in the world. I was eight years old. My grandfather bought me a pump-model rifle and one of those milk cartons full of bb’s, and I had endless acres of irrigation ditches to explore, hunting frogs. They’re naturally camouflaged little buggers—all green and brown blotches just the color of muddy water and moss—and they’re smart enough to lie very still until you’re almost upon them. They know if they move they’ll reveal their location (a lesson learned by many a lost frog thanks to the herons that have hunted them since time gone by). My early successes were minimal. I tried sneaking up, but the little amphibians would remain hidden in the reeds and mossy bays, lying stock-still, and my untrained eyes couldn’t pick them out. The technique involved walking slowly along the banks, intentionally disturbing the frogs but not scaring the bejesus out of them, so that they would dive or hop or swish and catch my eye, and then I could stand still as the heron and wait for them to re-surface and take my shot. It was the beginning of a boy’s education in one of the fundamental lessons of life: There is a way things work. You can’t ignore the oil level in your truck and expect it to run forever. You can’t go out and run a marathon without training. If you try to put a stalk on a whitetail, you’d better be downwind. If that canoe you overloaded turns sideways in the current, you’re all going for a swim. There is a way things work. I learned a lot of that glorious lesson at Pop’s ranch over the years. You can’t forget your gloves when you’re out fixing the fence or you’ll have blisters for a week. You can’t run up to the horses feeding at the trough or they’ll spook (keep repeating that trick and they won’t feel safe around you). The magpie is a smart fellow—a genius compared to a pigeon—and you can’t just stroll out the back porch swinging your rifle or he’ll be gone in a whiff. You’ve got to hide that rifle in your pant leg and act as if you aren’t hunting at all. There is a way things work. This is one of the essential lessons in every boy’s life. Every man’s as well. The brand new thought for most of us is that the very same thing holds true for the spiritual life—there is a way things work. You can’t walk around with heaps of guilt on your heart and expect to be a joyful person. Confession does wonders for the soul. You can’t just blast out into your day without first dialing into God—not if you want his help. The relationship needs maintenance, like any other. If you move into a new apartment and start having nightmares, maybe you should have cleaned the place out first. There is a way things work. Jesus acted like this in all his teaching. In fact, his fundamental lesson wasn’t so much about “salvation” but what he called the ways of the Kingdom of God: Jesus went throughout Galilee teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the Kingdom... (Matthew 4:23). Jesus went through all the towns and villages teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the Kingdom… (Matthew 9:35). The Kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field...like a mustard seed which a man took and planted in his field…like yeast that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour...the Kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. He even called his message “the gospel of the kingdom:” “And this Gospel of the Kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations and then the end will come.” (Matthew 24:14) Now, just like you have to learn the ways ranch-life works, you have to learn the way God’s Kingdom works. Apparently, Jesus was so committed to teaching his followers how things work in the Kingdom of God (there is a way things work), he actually hung around for more than a month after his resurrection so he could make sure they got it right: After his suffering, he showed himself to these men and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the Kingdom of God. (Acts 1:3) That’s a mind-blower—he lingered for forty days simply to finish their instruction in the ways of Kingdom living. He must have thought it was important. A boy-becoming-a-man—and a man-who-is-still-two-thirds-boy—has a journey to take. Not only must he learn that there is a way things work, he must also learn to adapt himself and his way of living to that fact—from the frog, to the oil, to the job, to the heart of a woman. This is how wisdom enters the soul. The next frontier is one most men never venture into, to their everlasting regret. It’s learning how things work in the Kingdom of God and learning to adapt themselves and their way of life to accommodate for those realities. That man gets to reap the harvest of the greatest adventures, the greatest victories, and the greatest amount of happiness. Christianity is not about a few things like “heaven” and “salvation” and “sin.” It’s a Kingdom we’ve been invited into, an entire realm of wonder and danger and joy unspeakable—if we will commit ourselves to learn its ways.
John Eldredge
Holiday Family Kryptonite (JuJu)
Why is it that the holidays when families gather are often fraught with warfare? I contend, in the context of spiritual warfare, this is a front where the enemy enjoys his greatest victories against what we deeply desire to enjoy with our families. And yes, we are quick to make the agreement that family gatherings during the holidays are minefields to either carefully negotiate or avoid altogether. Among the New Year’s desires and themes I’d like to focus on is the desire to break the above agreement and to pray early on against the enemy's assault on my family relationships. I think the weapon to disarm the various spirits Satan uses to influence family gatherings—such as envy, pride, confusion, distortion, defensiveness, misunderstanding, getting the last dig (whatever that spirit is called), and all other unnamed spirits—is to choose love and to always examine my own motives as I interact with family. I want to choose to move toward honest communication in humility. That doesn’t mean making peace at all cost, but rather offering strength in relationships the way Jesus demonstrated in dealing with the people He encountered. Even Jesus’ own family had questionable motives as they inquired about His mission, and there may be encounters with certain family members that should be wisely avoided due to their poor choices beyond our influence and control (Matthew 7:6). Yet, when we should engage, He promises that our prayers are effective against such spirits of sabotage, and His authority is available to us as His followers (Luke 10:19). This past December, my wife and I spent Christmas with my older brother and his wife for the first time in many years. We have decades of history of not getting along, and so I have avoided holidays with them. Well, this year it could not be avoided, and we ended up staying with them for well over a week. (Pretty risky!) On the backside of those days in such close proximity, I have to say it was one of the most enjoyable Christmas holidays I can remember. I recognized two things in my control that helped redefine my experience. First, I chose to love rather than be contentious. My initiating this caused my brother to respond in love as well. Although he and I have disagreements, the spirit of love in our communication allowed us to voice our thoughts without stepping on a mine and opening a door for warfare. Second, my contentious nature toward my brother, at its core, is due to my own brokenness that I need to take responsibility for and disengage. As I prayerfully surrendered a lifetime of offenses from an older, stronger brother and disarmed that contention through forgiveness, I had the ability to act and engage my brother in love. Maybe next year we will begin family gatherings praying in the spirit of what I just said! I'm tired of the enemy destroying family fellowship, and I no longer want to just agree with the lie and vow to avoid my family during future holidays. All relationships involve risk, and maybe there is some element of truth that family relationships have more risk, but choosing to love and owning my brokenness has produced—and hopefully will continue to produce, through God’s grace and power—a reward of great family time well worth the risk.
Bart Hansen
Will you come with me?
January 2015 Dear Friends, I am among the millions who have fallen in love with the Chronicles of Narnia. We shared them as a family when our boys were young, and we continue to love them as adults. In fact, Stasi and I are currently reading aloud book six, The Silver Chair to each other in the evenings. I’m struck this time around by how just how dangerous an adventure the children are tasked with. In chapter two, they meet Aslan on his own mountain, and Jill is told why he has summoned them: And now hear your task. Far from here in the land of Narnia there lives an aged king who is sad because he has no prince of his blood to be king after him. He has no heir because his only son was stolen from him many years ago, and no one in Narnia knows where that prince went or whether he is still alive. But he is. I lay on you this command, that you seek this lost prince until either you have found him and brought him to his father’s house, or else died in the attempt, or else gone back into your own world. Wait—that second piece: died in the attempt?! My goodness. These are grave orders for a couple of ten-year-olds. Aslan is the best, kindest, most Jesus-like figure you’ll ever meet in literature. This is the sort of story he has for them? Would you send your fifth-grader off to Somalia? And yet, I think Lewis was onto something very true about the character of God. The children are being called up. You see a similar theme in The Hobbit. Gandalf arranges for young Bilbo Baggins to join a company of dwarves on their quest to recover the Lonely Mountain, and the treasure that lies buried in its halls. The young hobbit has never held a sword, never slept outdoors, never even been beyond the borders of the Shire. He loves books, tea time, his armchair, and he always carries a handkerchief. Furthermore, Gandalf does not know for certain whether or not the dragon Smaug—“chiefest and greatest of all calamities”—is lying there in dreadful malice. Now remember, Gandalf loves Bilbo, loves him dearly, yet he is sending him on a very dangerous adventure. He says to Bilbo that if he does return, “You will not be the same.” Which brings me to one of the most important truths we can hold onto as we try and interpret our lives: God is growing us all up. “…until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature…” (Ephesians 4:13). As George McDonald assured us, “What father is not pleased with the first tottering attempt of his little one to walk?” And, God is absolutely committed to your growing up: “What father would be satisfied with anything but the manly step of the full-grown son or daughter?” It helps us to understand why Jesus keeps changing the picture in our lives; he keeps introducing “new frontiers” to each of us. Just when you think you’ve got parenting down, your kids enter into a new stage; just when you think you’ve got a pretty good grasp on your inner world, Jesus shows you something that needs healing. Relationships are always changing; church life changes; your body, your income—my goodness, can you think of anything that doesn’t change? And have you wondered why—why does God arrange for new frontiers to always be cropping up in our lives? Because God is growing us all up. But here is the problem—most of us do not share God’s fervent passion for our maturity. Really, now, if you stopped ten people at random on their way out of church next Sunday and polled them, I doubt very much that you would find one in ten who said, “Oh, my first and greatest commitment this afternoon is to mature!” Our natural investments lie in other things—lunch, a nap, the game, our general comfort. Like Bilbo. God is growing me up changes your expectations. When you show up at the gym, you are not surprised or irritated that the trainer pushes you into a drenching sweat; it’s what you came for. But you’d be furious if your housemate expected this of you when you flop home on the couch after a long day’s work. Bilbo hesitates; he’s not sure he wants this new frontier being offered him. I think we can all relate. And that is why, as I was praying for you, and asking Jesus what he wanted to say, he said this: Will you come with me? God almost always has some “new frontier” for us—something he is inviting us into, new ground he wants us to take, or a new realm of understanding; maybe a move in our external world, or a shift in our internal world; might be a new “spiritual” frontier. Sometimes those new frontiers are thrust upon us; sometimes we choose them willingly. Either way, God is taking us into new frontiers because he is growing us up. This will help you interpret what’s going on. Where is Jesus inviting you here in 2015? Have you asked him? Maybe he’s already put it on your heart—what new realm would you like to grown into? We are finishing a four-part series on “New Frontiers” on our podcast this month; I think you’ll find it very helpful as you (perhaps reluctantly) accept yours. Now for a word of hope: towards the end of their adventure, Jill is brought to tears by the redemption that unfolds. And the next line in the book brought me to tears: “Their quest had been worth all the pains it cost.” That will help you answer Jesus when he says to you, Will you come with me? Offered in hope and love, John
John Eldredge
He has a Name
I like movies and I’m a woman who, if given the option, reads the book first. I love to get lost in a good story. When I first read Unbroken a few years ago, I was completely captured. I was (as were millions of others) utterly moved by the story and the life of Louis Zamperini. Like many others, I really looked forward to the movie. And…it’s good. It tells a powerful story. For me, the scene with the most impact occurs after the movie ends. That’s when my tears came. And no, I won’t give it away. Except for this…if you know the whole story, you know the screenwriters and director missed the heart and the soul of the story—Jesus. He is central to Louis Zamperini’s story. But Jesus didn’t make the final cut. In movies, in stories, and even in conversations, he often doesn’t. Have you noticed how much easier it is to say “God” then it is to say “Jesus”? Saying you believe in God may feel daring but it’s actually rather safe. Movies like Unbroken can attribute things to “faith in God” or simply to “faith” or “God” and stay on inclusive, non-offensive ground. Say the name of God and heads nod. Say the name of Jesus and the earth trembles. There’s power in the Name of Jesus. There’s power. There’s healing. There’s redemption. There’s LIFE. For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Phil 2:9-11) By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus' name and the faith that comes through him that has completely healed him, as you can all see. (Acts 3:16) But these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. (John 20:31) God has a Name. It’s bold to use it. To pray in it. To speak of it. To proclaim it. A bold, dear, praying friend of mine sent me a holy email exchange today. She had been asked by a mutual acquaintance to contact a woman whom she did not know and offer her some kindness. The woman is dying. The following is their email exchange. Dear ***, I heard from D. about where you are on the journey of life. I just want to let you know that you are tucked in my heart and prayers. It is clear that you have journeyed well, and I pray that you know that. It is clear, too, that you have influenced many on the journey. May these days be layered in hope, the kind that is eternal. Blessings,~ Dear ~, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your words of encouragement. I am fortunate that I know and love my Savior, Jesus Christ and I will be with Him soon. I thank you for writing and supporting me at this time. It is a great way to lift up my spirit at this time. Thank you again, *** Oh ***, I am so grateful you know Jesus. As I pray for you I will imagine the wholeness and life you will experience as soon as our Jesus takes you by the hand and dances you into the Kingdom. I'll see you there! With prayers and anticipation of glory, ~ ~ Don't ever be ashamed to speak His Name, even if you don't know if a person is saved or not. I have learned that over the years that the Holy Spirit will go before you and will work in the person's heart if they aren't saved. He will even put the exact words they need on the paper through your fingers. Pretty amazing. I knew from your email that you were one of Jesus' followers. So, yes, we will meet again probably sooner than any of us think! And I miss being able to dance, so I am sure I will be dancing with legs and arms that work! Thank you for your prayers and sweet note, *** Speak his Name. My dear friend was gently corrected and wept. I too cried when I read the final email. The invitation is to Life in Jesus Christ. Our faith is in Him. Jesus Christ is LORD. Let the earth tremble. Let knees bow. Let hearts rejoice. Let him be exalted. Let his Name be lifted high. If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it. (John 14:14)
Stasi Eldredge
New Year, True You
I haven’t made New Year’s resolutions for millennia. Ok, for centuries. Well, for decades anyway. But the turn of the calendar makes for such a great opportunity to look back and to look ahead. It’s affords a moment to check in with your soul and ask yourself some questions. Here’s what I’m asking: What is a destination I would like to visit? What is something new I would like to try? What to I want to spend more time doing? What is a habit I am going to break? What do I want to do/be better at? What would I like to work harder at? What is a skill I’d like to learn or improve upon? This New Year affords the potential for me (and you) to grow and become more our true selves. I’d like to become a kinder me. A less demanding me. A more grace-filled woman. A gentler version of myself on myself. I’m not championing the phrase “New Year, New You!” Instead, I’m embracing, “New Year, True You!” Cheers to the True.
Stasi Eldredge
Accountability???
Recently at a Wild at Heart Boot Camp our men's team was confronted with a question: “How do you men stay ‘accountable’ to one another?” When I hear the word “accountable” I think of either business discipline or a religious legalistic attempt to control behavior and sin. I have a long history with this; I have been in church “accountability” groups for decades. Once I was in a group of six men for several years where we came together once a week to pray for an hour or so, thinking this was how we would be “accountable” to one another. We would pray for each other about whatever each one chose to throw on the table. Then at the end of the hour we would go off to work thinking we were “accountable” and really had visibility over one another. The thing we didn’t realize—and had no category for—was our posing. Each of us would hide behind our fig leafs (me included), withholding anything we really did not want to reveal to our accountability partners. We later discovered that one man in the group had been involved in an illicit affair during those years of meeting and praying together. You see, the problem was that we approached this as sin management, thinking that if we somehow met frequently and prayed together, it would somehow make us good men and minimize our sin. We never told each other our life stories, and as a result we were pretty much strangers, even though we had a long history of being around one another. When I came to Wild at Heart and began to walk with this team, right away they asked me about my personal story—what was my marriage like, my childhood, my relationship with my father, mother, and siblings? And if they sensed any pose or something unusual they would ask, “What is that about, and where did that come from?” We would then stop as a team and ask God, staying with it until we heard and picked up the trail to its origin. Within a few months they knew me better—as I did them—than decades of previous relationships and so-called “accountability groups” I had taken part in. That describes our relationship with one another. Two years ago (when we'd been together as a team for ten years) these guys did an intervention on me, with courageous love. They saw I was not taking care of my heart and was driving myself in an unhealthy way, both physically and spiritually. They told me to go take a sabbatical at a critical time of the year when my responsibilities at Wild at Heart were at a peak. Although it was difficult, I knew they were doing it out of love because of the long miles we have traveled together. I experienced breakthrough, deliverance, and healing in the ministry of Christ with these men. This is better than being “accountable.” It is loving one another courageously.
Bart Hansen
Remember the Dragon
The news reports this fall on the execution of children by Isis guerrillas left us all speechless. We received a number of desperate emails crying out for prayer. It was—and remains—horrible. All this lingers in my mind as I re-read an often-overlooked portion of the Christmas story: Herod was furious when he learned that the wise men had outwitted him. He sent soldiers to kill all the boys in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and under, because the wise men had told him the star first appeared to them about two years earlier. Herod's brutal action fulfilled the prophecy of Jeremiah: "A cry of anguish is heard in Ramah—weeping and mourning unrestrained. Rachel weeps for her children, refusing to be comforted—for they are dead." (Matthew 2:16-18) The parallel is so stark I almost want to ask for a moment of silence. I have never seen this part of the story portrayed in any pageant or manger scene. For those of us raised in middle America, this genocide was completely left out of our Christmas understanding. Our visions of the nativity were shaped by classic Christmas cards and by the lovely crèche displays in parks, on church lawns, and on many coffee tables. And while I still love those tableaus very much, I am convinced they are an almost total re-write of the story. On the night before the military “massacre of the innocents,” as it has come to be called, another urgent moment took place: After the wise men were gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. "Get up and flee to Egypt with the child and his mother," the angel said. "Stay there until I tell you to return, because Herod is going to try to kill the child." That night Joseph left for Egypt with the child and Mary, his mother, and they stayed there until Herod's death. (Matthew 2:13-15) This, too, seems right out of the devastation in the Middle East—refugees fleeing for their lives, taking cover in a foreign country. But I haven’t seen this portrayed in the lovely imagery surrounding Christmastime either. I understand, the imagery is dear to many of us, but it is also profoundly deceiving; it creates all sorts of warm feelings, associations and expectations—many quite subconscious—of what the nature of the Christian life is going to be like for us. The omissions are, in fact, dangerous—the equivalent of ignoring the movements of Isis. Contrast your associations with Christmas night to this description given to us from heaven’s point of view: I saw a woman…She was pregnant, and she cried out in the pain of labor as she awaited her delivery. Suddenly, I witnessed in heaven another significant event. I saw a large red dragon with seven heads and ten horns, with seven crowns on his heads. His tail dragged down one-third of the stars, which he threw to the earth. He stood before the woman as she was about to give birth to her child, ready to devour the baby as soon as it was born. She gave birth to a boy who was to rule all nations with an iron rod… Then there was war in heaven. Michael and the angels under his command fought the dragon and his angels. And the dragon lost the battle and was forced out of heaven. This great dragon—the ancient serpent called the Devil, or Satan, the one deceiving the whole world—was thrown down to the earth with all his angels…And when the dragon realized that he had been thrown down to the earth, he pursued the woman who had given birth to the child. But she was given two wings like those of a great eagle. This allowed her to fly to a place prepared for her in the wilderness, where she would be cared for and protected from the dragon for a time, times, and half a time…Then the dragon…declared war against the rest of her children—all who keep God's commandments and confess that they belong to Jesus. (Revelation 12) Startling. Vivid. Disturbing for sure. And an essential part of the story. I would pay good money to have a nativity scene with this included. Not only would it capture our imagination, I think, but it would also better prepare us to celebrate the holidays and to go on to live the story Christmas invites us into. Yes—Christmas is the glow of candlelight on golden straw, and a baby sleeping in a manger. It is starlight, shepherds in a field, and the visit of magi from the East. But Christmas is also an invasion. The kingdom of God striking at the heart of the kingdom of darkness with violent repercussions. I think if this had informed our understanding of the birth of Christ, it would have better prepared us for our own lives, and the events unfolding in the world today. I think far fewer of us would be so… puzzled by the way things are going. For as JRR Tolkien warned, “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.”
John Eldredge
To Know
“How will I know if he really loves me?” sang Whitney Houston in an old classic. It’s an important question. We live in a world filled with tangible realities but it seems that the most important questions of all remain in the realm of the immeasurable. Unquantifiable. Unknowable. You say you love me but how do I know? God says He loves us and that He has proven His love once and for all. Apparently, He wants us to know it. John 3:16 is often the first Bible verse anyone ever memorizes. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Or this one. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8 Or how about this? This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 1 John 4:10 There are some things that we need to KNOW. We need to know that we are LOVED. Christianity teaches us that we are. Christianity is not a religion based on feelings, experiences, or intuition. It is a historical reality that deals in facts. We may be more comfortable when we relegate our beliefs to remain in the realm of opinion, but we are not meant to merely believe. We are meant to know. Too many people today think that religious “truth” has to remain in the belief arena and not move into the realm of knowledge. But not only can we know that we know that we know the Bible is true and Jesus is real, we are supposed to. Not only can we know God and know Him intimately, we are meant to. And know Him here. Now. On this side of eternity. Now this is eternal life: that THEY KNOW YOU, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. John 17:3 For I gave them the words you gave me and they accepted them. They knew with certainty that I came from you, and they believed that you sent me. John 17:8 Don't worry. Being grounded, certain, and sure of our beliefs does not make us hard, dogmatic, rude, or unkind. In love, we are to be curious of others. Gentle. Inviting. Warm. Look at Jesus! He was certain. He KNEW. And He was welcoming, alluring, immeasurably kind, and sure. We can be sure. Unshakable. We can know. We can know God and the Son whom He sent. We can be certain of our eternal destiny, understand the world we live in, recognize the spiritual forces at play, and rise to our role in the Larger Story unfolding all around us. We need to be teachable, yes. Having a teachable spirit is a great good. So press in. Ask. Seek. Knock. Become a student of the Word. Read quality books and participate in Bible studies that open the Scripture to you. Follow leaders who are following Jesus. You are loved. You are meant to know it. You can.
Stasi Eldredge
We're Going In
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family…in another city. George Burns The holidays are racing toward us now, and with them comes those sober adventure/survival trips mistakenly called “visiting family.” Make no mistake, these can be calamitous. Think Meet the Parents or Home for the Holidays—maybe even Bates Motel. These festive gatherings can feel especially foreboding when it is your girl’s family territory you are venturing into. With that in mind—and for the sake of preserving love—we thought we’d offer a Survival Guide to Family Visits. Begin with situational awareness. There are two realities you must—must—keep in mind when dropping into potentially volatile terrain: Family is kryptonite. Not always, and not in every situation. Some family gatherings are rich and beautiful; may it ever be so. However, in this broken world filled with broken family cultures, “going home” can have a kryptonite effect. Don’t be surprised when she suddenly turns ten years old again, slips into family-speak, falling like Alice down the rabbit hole. That dazed look, that surrender to pressure and performance, the sudden loss of all ground gained in the last several years = kryptonite. Comments from you in the vein of, “Hey—what gives?” will not prove helpful. You must treat her as you would treat someone under a powerful spell. You are not on vacation. No matter how excited she is about going home, you must—must—keep in mind what our friend Dan helped us to name: “A visit is not a vacation.” Vacations involve things like tents and the utter freedom of the backcountry, or beach chairs and umbrella drinks. You can drop your guard on vacations; you must never drop your guard on a family visit. If you keep these two things in mind—that family is often kryptonite and a visit is not a vacation—you are much more likely to come out of it with love intact. Now, given these realities, what follows is some counsel for navigating the jungles of Vietnam… Pray beforehand. This seems so utterly obvious, but very few people do it. You want to lay down some covering fire before you get into the fog of war. This is especially true for your girl who may well fall under the spell once she sets foot back in her old haunts. Ask her, “Hon—what are you hoping for in this visit? How would you like to live? What do you fear? How can I help you while we’re there?” And then, pray into those things. Try and disarm as many booby traps ahead of time as you can. Do not get baited. Because once you are in the realm of the “visit,” you've got to be on your toes so as not to get suckered into one of those booby traps. Especially with your girl. This isn't the time to sort through what you think of her family, or how her relationship with her sister bugs you. The posture you need to take with one another is, we will sort it out later. Those backroom conversations that start with, “Your mom is so weird” never, ever go well. Before the two of you make the jump, agree to sort out any conflicts after the ordeal is over. Meanwhile, it’s I love you. We’re good. (And don't try to process as soon as you get out the door. In the early years of our marriage, after a visit, Stasi and I would inevitably get into an argument before we even left her family’s street—usually because I would want to start unpacking family issues and we weren't yet clear of the warfare of it. I was young and naive.) Stay engaged. Do not abandon her to the family sacrifice. The pull to check out is going to be very strong. Once her dad kicks in with the crass jokes or her aunt starts on with the man-hating thing, everything in you will want to join Uncle Ed at the clam dip or little brother downstairs playing Halo. Do not give in. Stay by her side. She needs you, even if she isn’t acting like it. Refrain from looking at your watch, laughing at stupid political statements made by anyone present, and alcohol in significant amounts—the internal editor goes on a break and you’ll say things you later regret (however true they might be). Fake it. Yes, you love Jell-O mold with marshmallows in it. Yes, you’d love to see the spoon collection. No, the cat on your lap doing that lost-kitten-kneading-drooling thing isn’t bothering you at all. If your team is crushing her family’s alma mater in the game currently on TV, do not openly rejoice. Fake it. Her father is always brilliant, her mother is always beautiful, you love her siblings, and you're having a wonderful time. Now yes—much of this advice is given with a touch of cynical humor, but it was bought through painful experience and the truth of the matter is this: You never simply marry a woman—you marry a family. They are now, or soon will be, your family too (!). And no matter how much damage they may have done to your beloved over the years, she will always want things to be better. She wants relationship with them. So you want to build relational capital over time, with the view that eventually the two of you can have a redemptive influence there. Bite your tongue, stay engaged, fake it. For love. However—if it does get ugly, if you see your girl going down for the count because her mom or dad keep saying such devastating things, then you need to get her out of there. Eject. Pull her aside and tell her you have massive stomach pains and diarrhea and you need to go. Give her an excuse to use with her family, and get out of Dodge. Develop a few code words beforehand which the two of you can employ with one another. This tactic is only for dire circumstances; in lesser calamities, when you can sense that the little family canoe is about to go over the waterfall like that scene from The Mission, it’s time to intervene with… Distraction. Break out your best stories: “Hey—did I ever tell you guys about the time I almost burned down the house?” Or the trip to Nicaragua (pre-load your phone with photos you can use to further distract the family). Juggling. Opera. Handstands. Make a fool of yourself, like David before the king of Gath. Better still, ask her grandpa to tell that story (again) about the time he was a gold miner. Ask her brother to break out the video from his recent ballet performance. People love to talk about themselves and it's a fabulous means of distraction. So you lost some dignity. At least you avoided a disaster. Above all else, be charming. No matter how much you loathe the meal/conversation/humor/culture, break out the charm. Win them over. You are building capital. This is about long-term redemption. And this is about loving your girl and offering your strength on her behalf. Because visits are not vacations.
John Eldredge
Whispers
Yet hints come to me from the realm unknown; Airs drift across the twilight border land, …whispers to my heart are blown That fill me with a joy I cannot speak —George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul I’ll come right out and say it—I have a love-hate relationship with fall. I know, I know—I have friends for whom autumn is their most favorite time of year. They text me photos of leaves and trees in glorious colors. They break out their sweaters with relish, like the best thing in the world is about to unfold. I get it—it’s a gorgeous time of year. And I do love the cottonwoods turning golden along the rivers. I love the crisp mornings and surprisingly warm days, the air clear as a diamond, the aromas of the earth itself like bread in the oven. Nature bursting into flame like a thousand burning bushes. But I know that in fact nature is flaming out, like Icarus, who fell from the sky like a falling leaf. Does this bother anybody else? The glory is so fleeting; it never, ever stays. That is the part I have had to come to terms with—the loss—feeling towards it the same emotions I have towards Robert Frost’s poem Nothing Gold Can Stay: Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. He is of course referring to spring, but with all respect to Mr. Frost I’d like to point out that nature’s last green is gold as well—a gold that also fades away. Too soon the glories will all be gone, dead leaves in the gutter, frozen earth, barren trees, and winter will descend. What are we supposed to do with fall? I mean, other than take long walks, head to the fields for cider and apple-picking, grab the 20 gauge and go in search of pheasant. What are we supposed to do with piercing beauty that haunts with its stunning brilliance—then drops away before you can fully take it in? If all nature is a kind of tutor, what then is the lesson of the sudden, shimmering, ephemeral glory of fall? Which brings me back to the poem. I’ve had a profound ambivalence toward it for many years, since about the time my best friend was killed in a climbing accident. Brent loved this poem, knew it by heart. He knew it held a secret—like autumn holds a secret—and what he believed was that fall is whispering the same story sunrise and sunset tell every day: the glory will return. To stay. Which of course would change everything. A few weeks ago Stasi and I were walking in an aspen grove. The ground was covered with a thousand golden leaves, heart-shaped, a whimsical mosaic of exquisite sun-colored beauty. “If this is something of what it means to have streets of gold, then I’m good with that. It will be wonderful!” she said. I am slowly, finally, reconciling to fall. If the message is not glory-then-loss, but glory-that-is-about-to-come-forever, my heart can accept that. I can allow the piercing beauty because I see in it a promise, captured in the last lines of George MacDonald’s Phantastes: A great good is coming, is coming, is coming to thee. This article was originally posted on And Sons Magazine.
John Eldredge
A Word from Mom
It’s hard for me to let you go. I look at you and I see the young man that you are. I do. I really do. I see you but I don’t see you. I have to keep reminding myself that you are not 14 years old. Or 6 or 2 or 12. I look at you and I can still see you sleeping angelic like in your crib. Soft cheeks. Soft face. All mine. I want to cradle you. With no effort at all I can see you running to me with your eight year old knobby knee skinned and tears freely streaming down your cheeks needing mercy. I want to comfort you. I see you at twelve, awkward with a mouth full of braces and a heart yet to be broken, full of hope and I want to shield you. I see your grown man’s body and yet I can so easily see you in soccer gear that’s too big for you. I feel a surge of pride over you and when I remember an injury you suffered, the feeling of jealous protection that rises from within me comes out like a momma bear’s growl – my reaction as oversized as your shin guards. I do see you. But equally, I remember you. I am your mother. I always will be. I love you with a fierce devotion that defies measurement. I honor your choices, your desires, your difficulties, your life yet I struggle to reel my responses in. I’m not supposed to scream with joy when I see you on campus. It’s not helpful for you to have me throw things out the window when you are deeply hurt. I can’t cradle you or coddle you. But oh, sometimes…sometimes I really want to. Though you fit perfectly in my full heart, you no longer fit in my lap. Nor my arms. Your soft puffy hands have become firm, defined, weathered and strong and I love them. But sometimes my lap and my arms ache with longing and memory. My body remembers what my soul will never forget. I know I have to let you go. I have to let you grow. I need to learn who you are now and re-learn our relationship. Re-negotiate. I need to grow into becoming a strong, encouraging and good mother of an amazing and capable young man and I don’t quite know how to do that. I don’t yet know how to be the mother that I want to be -that you need me to be. But because of Love, because of God, I’m confident we will find our way to this new way. I want to always offer you mercy and as we enter a whole new life stage, I need mercy from you as well. Because we both know that I will make mistakes here. So will you. And that’s okay. That’s where love and forgiveness and security come in. I’m not going anywhere. And from that spacious safe place, I want you to know that my well-being is not up to you to provide. My happiness is not your responsibility. In the midst of growing up and away, in the changing and the learning, I cheer for you, son. I believe in you and I pray for you. I hope for you and dream for you and I even ache when you ache. That’s part of the holy goodness of being a mother. There is an eternal fiber of advocacy, truth and a deep seeing of YOU - what is now, what was and what will be, that time, distance or any circumstance is unable to unravel. I am your mother. I honor the young man that you are, the man you are becoming. You took my breath away when I first felt you flutter within me. You made my heart burst when I first beheld your miracle self. You still do. I see you. And I remember you. I see you. And I remember me. I love that I am your mother. I LOVE that I am your mother. Though I am your’s, I am not you nor are you me. You are separate from me. You have the right to live your life fully, independently and wholeheartedly. I admit I don’t like the separation but I respect it. And though I can no longer carry you as easily in my arms as I once did, I will forever carry you in my heart. It is my honor to do so. It is part of my calling as your mother to do so. And it is part of my calling as your mother to let you go. So I will let you go as far as you need to, are meant to and God calls you to. But never so far that you leave my heart. Never that. Never that.
Stasi Eldredge
Adventure with a Purpose
Seven miles off the rugged west coast of Ireland a wild fang of an island juts out of the sea. Its sheer flanks are uninhabited for all sane reasons. Only seabirds live here, and only in summer, when the fierce North Atlantic storms have subsided. But to thirteen men this was just the place. Sometime in the late 6th century, after Rome fell and the continent plunged into a barbarous age, a band of Irish brothers paddled for five hours in a small handmade boat to reach this island. They ascended the eastern slope, and near the brink, on the leeward side, they built stone huts and called the place home. They were monks and they seemed struck with madness. That is, until you understand the wild, wonderful blend of Christianity and the Celtic warrior. The Celts of ancient Ireland—like their brothers and sisters in Wales and on the continent—were a fierce and heroic people. They scared the bejesus out of the Roman legions because they would strip buck naked before battle and rush the field screaming and singing. They practiced slavery and human sacrifice and they often warred with the clans next door. They thought the earth itself was sacred, and nature filled with spirit. So when Christianity reached these wild Celts, they took to it like a duck to water because they already understood the need for a heroic story in which to live. They loved the earth which this Creator God had made, and they were ready for an epic battle against evil. However, these warriors quickly ran into a dilemma: having given up raiding the coast of England for slaves, and their own internal wars, they needed something to satisfy the need for the epic within them. They needed something heroic for God. Taking the model of Jesus and his disciples, they set off in groups of thirteen men to remote outposts like the outcrop called Skellig Michael, which they named after the great warrior-angel Michael (a very Celtic act—they did not choose Gabriel, the annunciation angel; they chose for their outpost the name of the greatest warrior they could find). In these untamed places on the edge of the known world they founded little communities of warrior monks, who through their prayers and discipleship felt they were doing their part to battle the dark forces bent on the destruction of mankind. Think of a sort of self-imposed exile into Siberia or the Australian outback—but for spiritual purposes. Sort of YWAM meets Man vs. Wild. Here on the Island of the Archangel they harvested sea birds and their eggs, fished the ocean when the storms weren't raging, and even tended small gardens in the milder seasons. They built stairways up the steep slopes, hewed rock with hand tools, and laid stone steps that have endured for more than 1400 years. When the gales blew outside, they took refuge in their stone huts, studied the scriptures, and practically saved civilization (according to Thomas Cahill) by copying manuscripts and preserving learning while the barbarians pretty much burned down every library in Europe. Here, on this remote outpost, a community of brothers lived out a fierce kind of faith for more than five hundred years. (The Incan empire, by contrast, lasted about three hundred years.) It was full-blown adventure—survival skills and all—but with a purpose. Something heroic for God. We came to Skellig Michael on a sort of pilgrimage last month to see for ourselves the life and faith with which we feel such deep kinship. We climbed the 600 steps up to their little monastery and drank in the deep, enduring holiness of the place. A wild holiness. A brave choice (who would live like this?!). We felt a kind of continuity with these Celtic Christians. Though the ages have passed, the story remains very much the same: the world has been hurled into paganism, the battle with darkness rages, God can still be found in the wild places, and there are still epic things to be undertaken for the kingdom. Editor’s note: For more on these warrior monks and Celtic Christianity, read Thomas Cahill’s How the Irish Saved Civilization.
John Eldredge
Beauty Secrets ~ from Free to be Me!
In the tenth grade I went on a dare with my sister to see who could go the longest without eating anything. As we both had a few pounds to lose, my mother encouraged the competition. I was really happy when nearing the end of day three my sister called to tell me to go ahead and eat. She had caved. Hoorah! Going a day or two without eating was my modus operandi for many years. Just to keep within the normal weight range. I never crossed over into anorexia or bulimia. My obsession with food took (takes) the form of binging but without the purging. I used to kind of envy women who engaged in bulimia. At least they look good! I envied them a little, that is, until I got to really know a girl who battled it. It was horrible. The lengths she went to make herself purge were painful and extreme. Her toilet was her closest friend. She was damaging her body and ravaging her soul. Tormented, she was obsessed with food. Trying desperately to control her world, she found that bulimia was controlling her. She was motivated by fear and a deep self-loathing that no physical purging could exorcise. I know many young women who have struggled with anorexia as well. Except in extreme cases, these girls can look pretty good too. From a distance. But they are on a rigid regime of self-deprivation and intense exercise fueled by fear and self-hatred. They aren’t free. They are slaves to calories and nutrition labels. Their efforts to control their lives turn on them viciously. Their periods stop, they are cold all the time, and the damage to their internal organs can become irrevocable. One gal I love was nicknamed “Skelly” because she looked like a walking skeleton. But not to herself. What she saw when she looked in the mirror was quite different. Honestly, the ability to look in a mirror and see what everyone else sees is rare. We see our flaws. They might as well be blinking in neon orange. We can’t see past what other people do not even notice. (Sweetheart, if you struggle with an eating disorder, know that you are not alone. To become free of it—free from the desperate need to control your food, free from obsessing over it, free from the emotional suffering—you need help. This battle is not one you will be able to fight on your own. To be free from this horrible struggle you are enduring, please confess it to your parents, your pastor, a teacher, or a counselor. Help is available. You can be free. This overwhelming struggle is keeping you from living the life you are meant to live and offering what you are meant to offer. We need you.) Your beauty is under siege. It is being harassed and taunted and mocked because it matters. You matter. The enemy of your soul attacks the core of your heart by attacking your beauty in order to pin your heart down and keep you from being the young woman you truly are. You are a powerful child of God. Your beauty is powerful. As an image bearer of the living God, you possess a beauty that is deep and true and core to your soul. It manifests itself on the outside but is first and foremost an inward quality. It blooms in the soil of confidence, assurance and a happy heart. Beauty Secret: We are at our most outwardly beautiful when we aren’t obsessing over our outward beauty. The apostle Peter says, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Peter 3:3–4). Peter is not saying, don’t fix your hair or wear jewelry. He isn’t saying, “only wear frumpy, out-of style clothes.” No! He is saying, don’t fixate on your outward appearance but center your attention on your heart. “A gentle and quiet spirit” does not refer to a woman who barely talks above a whisper and never gets angry. “A gentle and quiet spirit” speaks of a heart that is filled with faith. Not doubt. Not fear. Not anxiety. Faith. Beauty flows from the heart of a young woman who is resting in the truth that she is loved, seen, known, wanted, and lovely to her heavenly Father. Right now. That young woman lives with self-confidence. And self-confidence is beautiful. You can have that. You are a true beauty. Really. And it is right and good that you want to be because you are a reflection of Beauty, Himself. Ask God to show you your beauty.
Stasi Eldredge
Wild and Free—A Conservation Ethic
I nearly wet my pants.Energy from lightning ripped through the ground and I could feel it, even hear a faint, eerie hum. The air was electrified, the sky ablaze as the sun dropped behind the jagged peaks of the Flat Tops Wilderness Area. The sound of bull elk bugling in the early twilight crescendoed around me, seemingly from every direction.I was a neophyte bow hunter and had found myself hurled into the major leagues. Highly exposed on an 8900-foot peak that hosted only broken aspen groves and scattered ponderosa pines, I was miles away from shelter. The storm was imminent and the pregnant sky was about to give way.It’s been said that “discretion is the better part of valor,” and growing up in an overly safety-conscious culture, I’ve lived that motto quite well.But that evening as thunderclouds built overhead, wind swirled, and the sun painted fire in the sky, I found my heart responding to something deeper than conventional wisdom—some ancient beckoning. A sort of divine revelation, perhaps?I hunkered down at the base of a ragged ponderosa pine and gave myself over to the unknown of what might unfold.And what did was cause for awe. Three giant bull elk emerged from the aspens, bugled back and forth, then hurled themselves toward each other, the sound of their repeated jousts and clashing antlers rivaling the crack of thunder overhead. The lead elk cow hustled the herd of calves and cows through the aspen grove and along the sage brush hillsides, skirting the combatting bulls. It was a rodeo of nature’s greatest proportions.As Aldo Leopold observes,There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot.I have discovered that I am a man who cannot live without wild things; it is true as well of the men I most love and respect. Wilderness is a spiritual longing and a necessity. Thoreau put it simply, wildness is “an oasis in the desert of civilization.” As John suggests in Wild at Heart,The masculine heart needs a place where nothing is prefabricated, modular, nonfat, zip lock, franchised, online, microwavable. Where there are no deadlines, cell phones, or committee meetings. Where there is room for the soul. Where, finally, the geography around us corresponds to the geography of our heart.That solo night on a lonely mountain peak in national forest, I finally discovered a geography that matched the internal landscape of my masculine soul.John Muir, fellow partner to Teddy Roosevelt in our nation’s bold efforts to conserve wild places, said it this way:Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where Nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike.Yet these places of beauty, cheer, and healing are disappearing at an alarming rate. As Wendell Berry describes, “The evidences of it are everywhere: eroded, wasted or degraded soils; damaged or destroyed ecosystems; extinction of species…pollution of the atmosphere and of the water cycle…” The commodification of our earth’s resources drives a pillaging of wild places for short-sighted economic gain.Yet all is not lost. There is still hope in our land and our legacy.Conservation can be understood as bringing the greatest good to the greatest number of species and their respective habitats. It is an extension of ethics and affection that includes not only our relationship to people but also to the land, its animals, and their habitat. A conservation ethic, as Aldo Leopold suggests, “changes the role of homo sapiens from conqueror of the land-community to member and citizen of it.”In many ways it is simply a restoration of God’s original intention for us, the bearers of His image, to lead and to love all of creation, exercising fierce mastery and stewardship rooted in a relational and moral conscience.The nation’s twenty-sixth president is remembered by some as the man who dug the Panama Canal, established the first horse-mounted soldiers, and survived a bullet to the chest in a presidential speech. However, Teddy Roosevelt is best known by many as the Father of Conservation. He led the political movement in the early twentieth century to protect and conserve some of the last parcels of wild spaces in the American West. Both his passion for wilderness and his first-hand exposure to the devastation of America’s unrivaled buffalo herds galvanized him to establish the first national parks, national forests, and national monuments, setting aside 230,000,000 acres as a sacred public trust.Roosevelt understood all too well that nothing restores the heart of a man like encountering the living God in wilderness. It was in the Badlands of North Dakota that, as a young man, he sought refuge and comfort in the wake of the sudden loss of the two deepest loves of his life: his mom and his wife. He went west to heal and ultimately to become the man he was meant to be.In his later years, Teddy reflected back on the impact of wilderness on his soul as a young man.Do you know what chapter…I would choose to remember were the alternative forced upon me to recall one portion of it, and to have erased from my memory all other experiences? I would take the memory of my life on the ranch with its experiences close to nature and among the men who lived nearest her.Regarding the national parks and forests he endeavored to protect, Roosevelt observed that “thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.”What if we contributed to a legacy of wild places where not only we but also our children and their children could heal, be strengthened, and become who we were meant to be?We can make a difference.We can become the difference.With how we spend our days and where we spend our dollars, we can become the essential piece in conserving and restoring the greatest resources our planet has left—geographies and landscapes that save the souls of men—and make the world better.We only protect what we love. And to come to love anything, we must take the time to know it and experience it with all our senses. In the words of Wendell Berry, “it all turns on affection.”The stormy sunset on that exposed peak sealed my passion for conservation. I never released an arrow from my bow that night, never got remotely close enough to those regal bulls for a shot. But as I hiked back to camp in wind and rain, tears of wonder and gratitude streamed down my face.I knew some day I’d have a son. And I committed to do whatever it takes to protect that piece of public land, that wild country, and others like it, so that even when I’m long gone, he too could discover the transcendence of wild places, perhaps respond with affection, and become the man he was meant to be.EndnoteIntrigued? Want to explore deeper?Read What Story Do You want?Start here. Invest in the film by Ken Burns, The National Parks: America’s Best Idea. It is spectacular. Makes for a great family night.Check out the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation and their promotion of the North American Conservation Model. RMEF’s Bugle Magazine will take you even further.My two favorite biographies on Teddy Roosevelt are The River of Doubt and Theodore Roosevelt: The American Presidents Series.Read the compelling lecture by author and poet Wendell Berry, “It All Turns on Affection.” It’s available free on this link or published in a collection alongside other essays in one of his books.It was A.W. Tozer who once said, “Curiosity is the sign of an alive soul.”Jesus, how is it You would lead me, through curiosity, into a deeper knowing of who You are, what You are doing, and how You are doing it? I long to become the kind of person to whom You can entrust more of Your Kingdom. Show me the path of life. I open myself to You for Your deeper wisdom and revelation. Reveal who You are, set the world right in me and through me.A version of this was originally featured in And Sons Magazine. Check out AndSonsMagazine.com for great stories put together by John and his sons, Sam, Blaine, and Luke.
A Shared Conversation
I was just hiding out of sight on the staircase eavesdropping on my son’s phone conversation. It was fabulous! It’s okay. He was recording a radio interview with my husband that will air later in the week. I was hiding so I didn’t distract him. I was listening in with permission. There have been so many phone conversations shared between my husband and sons that I haven’t been privy to. But the ones shared between Sam and John over many months a few years ago that arose from questions in his young man’s heart I now can listen in on freely and so can you. They proved the foundation for Killing Lions: A Guide Through the Trials Young Men Face. They’re conversations about faith. About dreams. About work. About women. Questions arose for Sam, as they do for all young men, about friendship and the journey of growing up and into the man he wants to become and figuring all that out. Figuring life out. Life in your 20s. It’s a critical decade laced with critical questions. Important questions. Therefore, important conversations. Killing Lions isn’t a question and answer book. Sam didn’t ask his father for the blueprint for his life. He didn’t want or need his father to tell him specifically what to do. They invited each other and then all of us into a dialogue. To explore life. Sam, like every other young man, needed to be treated not as a child, but as a man with his own life and yet—still and always a son. The generation of our children is the generation raised by more divorced parents than ever before. It is the generation called the “millennials” with their own take on life, values, questions, concerns, expectations. With so many young men feeling fatherless, who do they ask for help or guidance? How do we as adults guide them? Killing Lions is a guide. It’s a guide for young men and it’s a guide for the adults who want to help them navigate their way into becoming the man they WANT to become. My son has a father who loves him. The truth is that every young man breathing has a Father who loves him and He wants to help guide him on his journey. There are conversations to be had and dialogues that have occurred that are immensely helpful!!! I highly recommend that you listen in. I did. I still am.
Stasi Eldredge
006: Diving Deep – An Interview with Craig McConnell [Podcast]
Nearly a decade ago, I had the privilege of seeking wisdom from Craig McConnell, a man who’s seen many miles, fought many wars, and conquered death more times than I can recount. It was an even greater privilege to circle back with him on another conversation, this time recorded for the benefit of other men like you. Join us as we explore the profoundly deep implications of how we relate with others, how we embrace the decade of excavation, and how we grow in this decade of character over kingdom. In this conversation Craig references a powerful book, Addiction and Grace. I strongly recommend it as well. Here’s a link if you’re interested in going further. Craig also references his original counsel to me on the eve of this decade. Like great scotch and like my brother, uncle, and friend Craig, it has aged well over time. I include it below for your benefit, praying that the Father would have gifts for your heart in it. As many of you know, Craig has been battling for Life and against the death of cancer for the last few years. As you are encouraged and strengthened in this podcast, please stand with me in bringing God’s Kingdom on behalf of Craig. And Praying the full resurrection life of God to fill Craig’s body, soul and Spirit.
CM
Craig McConnell