Introduction: I do not know how one might prove it, but the most famous play in the world is perhaps Hamlet. And I do not know how one might prove it, but the most famous line in the literary world is perhaps “To be, or not to be: that is the question . . .” At the point in the play when Prince Hamlet says these words, he is contemplating an ultimate question. To continue or not? To endure or not? To be or not to be?

I don’t know how many times I’ve read Hamlet and/or watched it performed. Many times, that is certain. But the more I read it, the deeper it grows.

Segue: This evening as I came back to my place, the sun was going down behind the oaks. A thunderstorm had moved through the area about an hour earlier and dumped several inches of rain. And lightning had webbed across the skies. But now the storms had passed and the clouds were taking new shapes and the smells of the earth were rich, aromatic, redolent of storms stored in memory.

And as I took my trash bag to the receptacle, I saw a woman in her backyard with a new dog, Yorkie-looking, tied on a red nylon leash lashed to a stake in the grass. She was watching the dog and his ears were taut triangles atop his scruffy head. She looked at the dog and he looked at her.

And as I kept walking the evening redness of the sun behind the oaks, I thought it would be a shame not to be moved, not to behold. To behold, as it were. To keep hold of, or to give regard to. To rejoice that creation has a Creator, that he makes beauty, that we are designed to see these colors, imbibe these scents, and point others towards it all, as if to say, “Do you not see what I see?”

Takeaway: I snapped a few pictures. And I beheld. So much depends upon that. Seems it would be improper or even worse to smell the rain, and see the firmament ablaze in flames of color, and watch clouds slowly take on new shapes as they slide on winds, and see the way a dog’s ears respond to its owner . . . and not express gratitude.

I beheld, as if it were the proper thing to do, as if someone were speaking and I needed to listen.

Today I have another prayer breakfast scheduled for my fellow soldiers and families in our unit. We will begin at 0900. It is a simple undertaking in one sense. That is, it involves prayers, breakfast, fellowship, a speaker, music, singers, a pianist, and soldiers. But ultimately, any success hinges upon God.

It is a window of opportunity for us to recalibrate, to reckon with why we are here and do what we do, and how we ought to navigate our lives.

Who sets the standards for our moral lives? If those standards are built upon anything other than the objective revelation of God in Scripture, they are–by definition–subjectively derived.

In just a few hours, my assistant and I have arranged to have the unit fed Chick-fil-A for breakfast, and we have a musician coming who will lead us in singing our national anthem and in a worship song. And I have asked some Christians in my unit to pray with me for our unit, for our leadership, for our nation, but most of all, for Christian faithfulness in a world that desperately needs the truth and needs to see it lived out.

Why? Because moral true north is essential. We must have it if we are to know how to navigate accurately. If we would be wise, we must know our place and how and why we are where we are.

And if we would know how to navigate, we need to have an accurate reading of the way things actually are. We need, as Amos learned and wrote about, God’s plumb line (Amos 7:7-15).

I am grateful to have opportunities like today to try and minister the Word to my fellow soldiers and their families. I am grateful to be able to pray with and for my fellow soldiers and their families. I am grateful that God continually raises up men and women of Christian courage and conviction who have counted the sundry costs of being a disciple. Come what will, it is way past time to be faithful.

When I was pastoring a church I had a friend in the congregation named Paul, and Paul taught me a great lesson. He told me, “Jon, you sow the seed but only God tills the heart.”

Why was that so foundational for me and what does that have to do with motifs of hope? Follow me.

I had been enduring one of my curses in life–battling sleeplessness and spending more than a healthy amount of time studying the Scriptures in order to pour into a congregation, only to learn that most of the congregation did not care for what the Scriptures had to say.

In addition to pastoring, I was teaching English full-time at a school, serving in the military as a chaplain, teaching Sunday school, leading midweek Bible studies, doing outreach, trying to be a good husband and dad, was in school earning another graduate degree, and on and on. And I was exhausted.

But I pressed on. I labored day in and day out for those people, and I was doing it for the Lord.

But that’s where things got tricky. I was doing it for the Lord, yes. But when the Lord did not do certain things the way I sometimes desired; or when the Lord did not cause certain people to be overwhelmed by His sovereignty the way I wanted; or when … You get the idea.

I wore myself out in ministry, in study, in teaching, in pouring into folks, and for what?

I learned the hard way that I was the one who needed to learn the lesson about God’s sovereignty.

It is only God, as my friend Paul told me, who truly and definitively changes a person’s nature, his heart/soul/core … or what in Greek is the ψυχή, soul.

An example may help. Think of the English word psychology. Literally, it means the “language” (logos) of the soul (psychí). That’s what the gospel does. It changes a person’s soul. It regnerates him. It takes a person from being the living dead to being spiritually alive to God. People hostile to God on a Monday are supernaturally reborn by a monergistic work of God on a Tuesday, for example. Suddenly, they have eyes to see what they were hitherto blind to. Suddenly, they see spiritual warfare for what it is. Suddenly, they see Jesus Christ, not as a swear word, but as the Savior of sinners.

Today I did what is perhaps my favorite thing in the world: I opened the Bible with people I have grown to love. They were fellow soldiers. We have been going through the Gospel of John verse by verse. And today we finished the book.

I read the text. We listened to Pilate’s words to Jesus and to the Jews. We listened to Jesus rebuke Pilate and tell him who actually has all authority (Hint: it’s not human government). We watched as Judas betrayed the Lord. We watched Doubting Thomas demand to touch Jesus’s side before he would believe. We watched Jesus talk to Mary while still in the tomb, post-resurrection. We watched Jesus be crucified between two criminals. We watched Jesus eat fish on the shores of the lake in northern Israel with weak-faithed disciples. And on and on.

And my guys saw it. They listened to me read and teach. We all listened to the Lord and His Word.

And my spirit wanted to shout, “Yes, Lord; You are gripping them! You are giving eyes to see!”

But I also heard my old friend Paul’s words from all those years ago: “Jon, you sow the seed but only God tills the heart.” Yes and amen.

But, Lord, please till. And I will tell of Your works.

Today I am pinching myself. Our daughter turned 25 today.

I’m proud of her. She is completely self-sufficient. She works hard. She has her own place. She enjoys her giftings and puts them to good use.

I know few people who love animals as much as I do, but she rivals my affections for the critters, that’s for sure, and maybe surpasses them.

I think back on her girlhood years–the years of soccer practices, of youth retreats with church, of track and field events, of cheerleading, and of years in church together when she was just a little girl.

Now she’s all grown. But the older I grow as a parent, I understand more and more how we always long to keep them, in a sense, under our wings and shelter our offspring.

But we taught her well. She has grown to need us less and less, at least in certain ways, and that’s the way it should be.

Happy birthday, Taylor Ray. We love you. Enjoy your day.

Today I had one of my life’s greatest joys. Here’s the shortened version of the story.

He was a former student where I taught English. He was always intellectually curious and zealous. He asked the hard questions. He was Socrates-like, unafraid to ask the difficult questions, to press the issues for the truth.

He has since grown up, married, become a husband to his wonderful wife, a father of sons, provider, Christian, and budding theologian.

He reads voraciously and deeply. Not the trendy stuff of most of today’s TGC/wokester speaking circuit glory boys, but the truth-tellers of old who have endured: Athanasius, Calvin, Lloyd-Jones, Jonathan Edwards, John Owen, Luther, Spurgeon, etc.

We talked again today. I was reminded of how and why I love him, of how Paul loved Timothy.

Ruth clung to Naomi during the dark times of literal famine and widowhood. And I learned–once again–from a young man I see working out his salvation in fear and trembling, that God is faithful.

He reminded me of my young friend, fighting the good fight of the faith, of the deposit entrusted to him, the truth delivered, once for all, unto the saints.

Press on, dear brother. God has you. And there is no more thrilling, worthwhile, and truthful place to be than in the will of the One who upholds all things.

One of my favorite scenes down by the creek.

One of my greatest blessings is coming to love men and women who love Christ, love his church, and understand what it means to steward creation.

Once again, thanks to my friend Jim, his stewardship of God’s world, (and some good photography skills), we all get to enjoy these via thanksgiving.

Thank you, dear one. See you in the morning at Sunday school and church.

Episode 1: The Apocryphal Books: What They Are & Why They’re Not Canonical

Episode 2: Is the God of the New Testament Different from the God of the Old Testament?

Episode 3: The Trinity: Father, Son, & Holy Spirit

Episode 4: How & Why Has the World Gone Crazy? (Part I)

Episode 5: How & Why Has the World Gone Crazy? (Part II)

I went for a walk/jog this evening just before the showers popped up. A couple of pretty girls were out munching grasses near the trail, too. A few paces further, I was looking down at the creek. The smell of rain was in the air, the skies heavy and ominous.

From my friend Jim, enjoy six shots that capture beauty.