Jesus Changed My Life

Written by Cale Little How has the life, death, and resurrection made a difference in my life? In 2001, I remember my tears on red velveted, dark oak pews from my first encounter with the death of a family member. I would die also? Surely not. But this Jesus took my place so I could live? I believed God would save me from death.

In 2009, I remember a series of losses, change, and great disappointments. I learned his second promise remained true: He would never leave me or forsake me. With this truth in mind, I followed through with believer’s baptism. It was freeing to find that He had and always would be with me. My heart mended, and I rejoiced in His presence.

In 2013, I remember my dismay, when during another difficult season, seated on a blue couch in my home, the first words of prayer from my mouth were: “God, I hate you.” His response through Scripture was essentially, “You’ve forgotten Me. I am God, and you are not. Remember Me.” My expectation that such devastation and disconnection would be avoided if I followed God starkly contrasted with the darkness before me. I had retreated into a fantasy realm, not wanting to face the part I’d played in the darkness, disconnection, and distance between (what I perceived) God and myself, and between myself and others. That wilderness stretched on for a long time. I hid from God, blaming Him for my shame, when all He asked me to remember was the love He had for me and His promise to never leave.

In 2015, I remember my attempts to follow God while not changing the protective addictions and avoidances I’d developed. I see now that I was trying to follow Him while still “preserving” my security. I realize now that I had lost trust and faith in God to protect me through death, disconnection, and distance. I was unwilling to accept that the very proverbial potions I was drinking to strengthen me were the poisons that prevented me. I failed a semester of grad school. I hid this truth from everyone. The darkness only seemed to deepen.

In 2016, I remember where I stood in the living room when the truth came out. The carpet was beige and brown. That same blue couch against the wall. God’s Word tells us the truth will set us free, and friend, I believe that. But I was terrified. I could not see a way that this truth would not kill me. It forced a choice. Do I trust the fantasy that promises safety and success but erodes the long term, or do I fully live in reality as it is, trusting God’s promise to see through to the other side? I chose the second. Again and again and again, I chose Christ’s promises in my present reality, until sin’s hold began to loosen. As it loosened, more and more I had to come to terms with the effect my own attempts to protect myself from death, disconnection, and distance had been part of its cause. This was the darkest season I’ve ever trod. By God’s grace, I am still alive to write this. “Though I fell, I was not cast headlong, for the Lord upheld my hand.” (Ps. 37:24)

In 2020 and 2021, I remember facing the end of two paths God had placed me on. Both represented the faith I had walked through the season of darkness. I’d thought those careers would be salvific. As each of these paths closed, the Lord comforted me. Our relationship had matured over those years. He showed me Christ’s own words, “he did not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” He showed me that death, disconnection, and distance are not the end of the story. By sharing in His death, I have found life. It’s holy communion.

Now, in 2023, seated on a brown couch with a blue blanket, I remember all that God has done in my life. His life, death, and resurrection provides hope. As the author of Hebrews writes, “We are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls.” In believing Christ died for me and will never leave or forsake me, I’ve learned that obedience, even done perfectly, does not protect me from death, disconnection, and distance. That’s not the purpose of obedience.

“It is finished!” Means that, though we yet live and we are passing away daily, our inner spirit is being renewed day by day. “For this light, momentary affliction is producing in us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” As a result, pain and fear have become prompts to intentionally remember and embody His hope and love in the moment. Life, Death, Life again. As John Lucas sings, “There’s a time for everything, until we crown the risen king.” His love is perfect.

I invite you to conclude this reflection by listening to ‘Time’ by John Lucas.

Are You Worth It?: A Redemptive View of Self Worth

Written by Riley Davis

Working in campus ministry for the past eight years, I’ve had the joy of walking alongside a variety of students in their spiritual journeys. From fraternity guys to rugby players to BIPOC students to marching band members, God has allowed me to connect with folks from all sorts of different backgrounds.

But one thing that remains constant among almost every college student is this: they all wrestle with their self-worth. Often, this struggle manifests in different ways — some students compensate for insecurities with performance, some seek to drown them out with excess and some seek to avoid them with isolation. But thankfully, when we look to God’s word, we see our worth comes from something much greater than our accomplishments and our networks.

Psalm 8 is one of my favorite passages that speaks into this topic. David’s psalm parallels the creation narrative of Genesis 1 — both in its content and in its rhythm and cadence. Here’s what it says:

Lord, our Lord,how magnificent is your name throughout the earth!You have covered the heavens with your majesty.

From the mouths of infants and nursing babies,you have established a strongholdon account of your adversariesin order to silence the enemy and the avenger.

When I observe your heavens,the work of your fingers,the moon and the stars,which you set in place, what is a human being that you remember him,a son of man that you look after him?

You made him little less than Godand crowned him with glory and honor.

You made him ruler over the works of your hands;you put everything under his feet: all the sheep and oxen,as well as the animals in the wild, the birds of the sky,and the fish of the seathat pass through the currents of the seas.

Lord, our Lord,how magnificent is your name throughout the earth!

To start, we see David offer adoration to the Lord. He moves from there into a shout-out to infants and babies and the ways that they praise God (something tells me David would share this part specifically with Waypoint!) Then, he marvels at God’s creation — as he observes the sun and the moon above him, he can’t help but marvel at the Lord’s handiwork. This introduction compels awe and worship from us as well.

But then, in verse 4, a shift occurs. Notice this — he starts talking about human beings. Specifically, this applies to us. Through verse 8, David tells us that God deemed us royal and allows us to steward his creation — even though we lack the physical strength of "animals in the wild” and many of the “fish of the sea,” we're given this incredible calling.

Think about this: if God constructed the world with this incredible precision — and then endowed it to us — can you imagine how intentional he was in forming human life? He didn’t slap something together and call it “human.” Instead, he creates us with design, structure and purpose.

But as stated at the start, we often forget this. We see our world’s obsession with formulating our own image through TV, movies, music, and of course, social media. It reminds me of these lyrics:

“Missin' out on my years / There's times when I wish I was where I was back when I used to wish I was here / Missin' out on my days / Scrollin’ through life and fishin' for praise / Opinions from total strangers take me out of my ways / I try and see who's there on the other end of the shade / Most times it's just somebody that's underage / That’s probably just alone and afraid / And lashin' out so that someone else can feel they pain” - Drake “Emotionless”

Keep in mind — these words come from Drake, one of the most famous and wealthy persons in the country. And yet, he still finds himself looking for the approval of others. I believe that a desire to know God’s view of our identity whispers subtly through the lyrics.

But that’s why I’m grateful that God let’s us in on the truth. The same purpose Psalm 8 applies to the general and universal also applies to the personal and particular. Genesis 1, the inspiration for the Psalm, tells us as much. God designed us for beauty:

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

(Genesis 1:27)

Everything that we rule over in Psalm 8 reminds us of our ruler. We were made in the image of God to show us there is a God. His say is the final say. And because of that, our image is not our creation. It’s His.

And what more does God say about us? Let’s look at Genesis 1:31, that immediately follows the creation of mankind:

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.

Throughout the creation of the world, Genesis tells us God “saw that [whatever he made] was good.” The brilliance of the sun, the uniqueness of the stars, the unbridled strength of the animals — all of those evoked a “good” from God. But, as my father once taught me, the “very good” treatment came when God surveyed the created order and humans. It’s almost as if he designed us as the finishing touch of his masterpiece.

Universe: good. Galaxies: good. Oceans: good. Great White Sharks: good. Mt. Everest: good. Grand Canyon: good. Cameron Indoor Stadium: meh. Amazon Rain Forest: good. Men and women: VERY GOOD. You and me: VERY GOOD. Born in stability: VERY GOOD. Come from dysfunction: VERY GOOD. English speaker: VERY GOOD. International student: VERY GOOD. Full-ride scholarship: VERY GOOD. Trying to make ends meet: VERY GOOD. Raise a toast to celebrate: VERY GOOD. Recovering alcoholic: VERY GOOD. Not just good. VERY GOOD.

And when we understand that this is the framework for which David composed his hymn of praise, our perspective on God, ourselves, and others changes. Our image is not our creation. It’s His.

God Likes Us

Written by Stephen Buckley

God likes you. And me.

It took me nearly four decades to figure that out, but that doesn’t make this truth any less profound.

God likes you. And that reality is revolutionary.

If you’ve already absorbed this, then feel free to skip this blog post. But if you’re like most of us, you probably haven’t. I am pretty certain most of us don’t believe that God likes us because I have never heard a sermon on the subject. Not one. And I’ve called myself a Christian for 40-plus years.

Understanding God’s love is no doubt life-changing. (That’s a separate post.) Understanding that He delights in us is no less so.

I’m a father of two twentysomethings. They are smart, kind, generous, and thoughtful (they take after their mother), but they’re human. They have flaws. They make mistakes. They have said and done things that fall short of my hopes and expectations. I might be disappointed in their actions, but never in them. I delight in them. I like them.

So it is with God and those of us who call him Abba, Father. He doesn’t simply put up with us. He isn’t sitting on His throne, face stern, arms folded, feet tapping, mouth sneering, eyes slit in anger. Just the opposite is true. He delights in us. He likes us.

For those of us from dysfunctional homes, that may be a hard truth to hold. That doesn’t make it any less true. Don’t take my word for it. God Himself says so, again and again. He called the Isrealites His treasure. One psalm tells us that He delights in those who fear him. Another psalm says we are the apple of His eye. The prophet Zephaniah told Israelites that God would “rejoice over you with joy….He will exult over you with song.”

Why does this matter? Because when someone likes us, we can be our full selves in their presence. We don’t have to impress them. We don’t have to be defensive or put on airs. We pour out our hearts to them; we laugh and cry with them. We relax. We know we’re accepted.

This should liberate those of us long shackled by shame and rejection. The God of the Universe, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, doesn’t simply tolerate me. He doesn’t grit His teeth when He thinks of me. Instead, He adores me. His heart swells as He sings over me.

This means that when I pray, I can share with him everything – fears, doubts, worries, insecurities, dreams, questions, sin. He knows what I’m thinking anyway, so it’s futile to hide. And here’s what’s amazing: He knows everything about me, and still accepts me.

This transforms my relationships. If I know that the God of the Universe delights in me, then I don’t have to constantly compare myself to others. Instead of being insecure about the gifts He has given me, I can surrender them to Him and let Him use them as He wants. I accept others. I accept myself.

This flies in the face of our culture, which teaches that we are supposed to look in the mirror and like ourselves, just because…. There is a touch of truth to that, but it misses the mark. We are supposed to like ourselves because God likes us. He likes us because we have embraced the transforming forgiveness and renewal of Christ’s work on the cross. That’s it. No more, no less.

There is no getting around it. It’s the God’s honest truth. And we can make it our reality. Let the revolution begin.