JUNE 1, 2026

  “Find a purpose to serve, not a lifestyle to live.” 

― Criss Jami

2 CHRONICLES 4-6

36“When they sin against you—for there is no one who does not sin—and you become angry with them and give them over to the enemy, who takes them captive to a land far away or near; 37and if they have a change of heart in the land where they are held captive, and repent and plead with you in the land of their captivity and say, ‘We have sinned, we have done wrong and acted wickedly’; 38and if they turn back to you with all their heart and soul in the land of their captivity where they were taken, and pray toward the land you gave their ancestors, toward the city you have chosen and toward the temple I have built for your Name; 39then from heaven, your dwelling place, hear their prayer and their pleas, and uphold their cause. And forgive your people, who have sinned against you.(6:36-39)

JOHN 12:20-50

42Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; 43for they loved human praise more than praise from God.

JOURNAL 

"Find a purpose to serve, not a lifestyle to live."

I think so much of my life, and honestly much of our culture, is centered around the pursuit of lifestyle. We chase comfort, success, security, experiences, health and all the things we believe will create the life we want. We spend years building and protecting a lifestyle. Yet the more I think about it, the more I realize how fragile a lifestyle really is. It can disappear with a diagnosis, a financial setback, a job loss, a broken relationship, or simply the passing of time. A lifestyle depends on circumstances. A purpose does not.

As I read Solomon's prayer in 2 Chronicles 6, what stood out to me was that he fully expected the people to fail. He knew they would sin. He knew there would be seasons when they would suffer the consequences of their choices and perhaps even find themselves in exile. Yet his confidence was not in their ability to avoid failure. His confidence was in God's willingness to receive them when they returned with all their heart and soul. Even in captivity, purpose remained. Even when everything else was stripped away, they could still turn toward God. Their land could be taken. Their freedom could be taken. Their status could be taken. But their purpose could not be taken because their purpose was ultimately found in Him.

Then I read John 12 where it says that many believed in Jesus but would not openly acknowledge Him because they loved the praise of people more than the praise of God. That verse cuts deeper than I would like to admit. So much of what drives us comes back to approval. We want to be admired, respected, validated, and accepted. We want people to think we are successful, wise, accomplished, or important. Yet approval is every bit as fragile as lifestyle. It rises and falls with the opinions of people who are often struggling to find their own approval.

The contrast that keeps coming to mind is found in Colossians 3 where Paul tells slaves to work wholeheartedly, not for their earthly masters, but for the Lord. At first glance that seems impossible. How could someone faithfully serve under a cruel master? The answer is that their purpose was bigger than their circumstances. Their purpose was not tied to whether they had comfort, freedom, recognition, or even fair treatment. Their purpose was to honor Christ. A cruel master could not take that away. Hard circumstances could not take that away. Captivity could not take that away.

If my goal is a lifestyle, then I will constantly be shaken whenever life fails to cooperate. If my goal is approval, then I will always be at the mercy of what other people think. But if my goal is to love God, love others, and faithfully serve the purpose He has given me, then I possess something that success cannot improve and failure cannot destroy.

The older I get, the more I realize  that purpose is eternal. One changes with the seasons and the other survives every season. Maybe that is why people throughout history have endured suffering, hardship, and loss while still living lives of extraordinary joy and meaning. They were living for a purpose rather than a lifestyle.

22Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to curry their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord. 23Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, 24since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

COLOSSIANS 3:22-24

MAY 31, 2026

 “The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.” 

― Ted Hughes

2 CHRONICLES 1-3

7That night God appeared to Solomon and said to him, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

8Solomon answered God, “You have shown great kindness to David my father and have made me king in his place. 9Now, Lord God, let your promise to my father David be confirmed, for you have made me king over a people who are as numerous as the dust of the earth. 10Give me wisdom and knowledge, that I may lead this people, for who is able to govern this great people of yours?”

11God said to Solomon, “Since this is your heart’s desire and you have not asked for wealth, possessions or honor, nor for the death of your enemies, and since you have not asked for a long life but for wisdom and knowledge to govern my people over whom I have made you king, 12therefore wisdom and knowledge will be given you. And I will also give you wealth, possessions and honor, such as no king who was before you ever had and none after you will have.”(1:7-12)

JOHN 12:1-19

4But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5“Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.^b ” 6He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

7“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 8You will always have the poor among you,^c but you will not always have me.”

JOURNAL 

It always comes back to the heart.

What struck me in these passages is that Solomon's request wasn't really about wisdom. Wisdom was simply the expression of something deeper. His heart was centered on love. He loved his father David and wanted to honor what had been entrusted to him. He loved the people he had been called to lead and recognized that they belonged to God, not him. Most importantly, he loved God enough to know that he could not accomplish the task before him on his own. So when God offered him anything, Solomon asked for what would allow him to serve well rather than what would benefit him personally.

God's response is fascinating because He specifically points to Solomon's heart. He tells him that because he did not ask for wealth, possessions, honor, revenge against his enemies, or a long life, He would give him wisdom and knowledge. Then God adds all the other things as well. In other words, when Solomon's heart was centered on loving God and serving others, God supplied everything necessary to support that calling. The wealth, influence, and resources were not the goal. They were tools given to accomplish a purpose that was rooted in love.

I think that's a pattern that runs throughout Scripture. When our hearts are truly centered on loving God and loving others, God often provides what is needed to carry out that mission. Not because He is rewarding us for good behavior, but because He supports what reflects His heart. The challenge is that our motives can become mixed. We can seek wisdom because we want influence. We can seek God because we want blessings. We can serve others because we want approval. Sometimes what looks spiritual on the outside is actually self-serving underneath.

That is what makes the story of Judas so revealing. Judas sounded compassionate. He argued that the perfume should have been sold and the money given to the poor. On the surface it sounded noble. But John tells us that Judas didn't actually care about the poor. His words and his heart were disconnected. The issue wasn't what he said. The issue was why he said it.

The older I get, the more convinced I am that God is always looking beneath the action to the motivation. He is not simply asking what we are doing. He is asking why we are doing it. Am I pursuing health because I love the life God has given me and want to steward it well? Am I working hard because I love and want to serve others? Am I chasing a goal because it allows me to love God and people more effectively? Or am I trying to prove something, protect myself, gain approval, or fill some emptiness inside?

Ted Hughes wrote that the only calibration that really counts is how much heart we invest and how much we are willing to love despite the risk of being hurt, embarrassed, or disappointed. I think that captures something deeply true. At the end of life, I don't believe anyone regrets not accumulating more possessions or status. The regret is usually that we didn't love more deeply, trust more fully, or live more courageously.

Solomon reminds me that when love is at the center, everything else finds its proper place. Wisdom becomes service. Wealth becomes stewardship. Influence becomes responsibility. Success becomes an opportunity to bless others. But when something else occupies that center, even good things can become idols.

God's promise through Jeremiah is simple: "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." Not part of our heart. Not the leftovers. All of it. Because in the end, what God has always wanted is not our performance. He wants our love. And when love becomes the center, everything else begins to align around it.

 13You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

JEREMIAH 29:13

MAY 30, 2026

  "I wanted you to see what real courage is, it's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what." - Harper Lee 

1 CHRONICLES 28-29

David, in the final moments of his leadership, speaks directly to his son Solomon—not just as a father, but as a servant of God passing the torch. He urges Solomon to know the Lord intimately, to serve Him with wholehearted devotion and a willing spirit. God knows every motive, every hidden desire—and He promises to be found by those who seek Him. But David doesn't just offer spiritual encouragement; he delivers a charge. “Be strong and do the work,” he says. The work of building God’s house isn’t just a task—it’s a calling. (1 Chronicles 28:9–10)

JOHN 11:47-57

In contrast, the religious elite gather in fear and desperation. Jesus had performed undeniable signs, but instead of celebrating the miracles, they saw them as threats to their control. Caiaphas, high priest that year, unknowingly prophesies the truth: that one man—Jesus—would die for the people, not just for Israel but to gather all of God's scattered children. From that moment, they begin to plot His death. The work Jesus was sent to do was unfolding, not with fanfare or applause, but with conspiracy and sacrifice. (John 11:47–53).

JOURNAL 

As I read through the account of David preparing Solomon to build the Temple, what stood out to me was the incredible level of detail God provided. Nothing was left to chance. The design, the materials, the furnishings, the responsibilities, even the placement of objects within the Temple were carefully laid out. David's final charge to Solomon was not simply to build a structure but to recognize the sacredness of the task before him. "Be strong and do the work." The Temple mattered because it represented the dwelling place of God among His people, and because of that, every detail was worthy of attention, care, and devotion.

What strikes me is how differently I often think about myself. Jesus tells us that the Temple of God is no longer a building made with human hands but that His Spirit dwells within us. When I place those two ideas side by side, I begin to see something I have missed for much of my life. If God cared that deeply about the construction and care of a physical temple, how much more does He care about the condition of the living temple He has entrusted to me? My mind, my body, my heart, and my spirit are not incidental. They are gifts from God and they deserve to be tended with the same intentionality that David and Solomon gave to the Temple.

Too often I find myself focused on what I can accomplish for others while neglecting the care of my own soul. I want to lead well, love my family well, encourage others, teach students, write meaningful words, and make a difference. Yet the reality is that if I cannot steward what God has placed within me, how can I faithfully steward what He has placed around me? If I am unwilling to care for my own heart with grace, compassion, truth, and obedience, then my ability to truly love others will always be limited. If I cannot extend patience to myself, I will struggle to extend patience to others. If I cannot accept God's love for me in my weakness, I will struggle to offer that same love to those around me.

I think for much of my life I have viewed self-care, rest, gratitude, and even self-compassion as somehow selfish. Yet when viewed through the lens of the Temple, they become acts of stewardship. Taking care of my body, guarding my thoughts, feeding my spirit, pursuing truth, resting when needed, and receiving God's grace are not indulgences. They are responsibilities. They are part of tending the sacred ground God has entrusted to me.

Harper Lee wrote that real courage is knowing you're licked before you begin but beginning anyway and seeing it through no matter what. Maybe courage is not always found in dramatic moments. Maybe courage is found in the daily decision to tend the Temple. To choose gratitude over comparison. To choose truth over self-protection. To choose obedience over comfort. To choose faith when fear seems more reasonable. David's words still echo through the centuries: "Be strong and do the work." Today that work may not involve building walls of stone, but it does involve caring for the life God has placed within me. And if I can learn to steward that gift well, perhaps I will be better prepared to love and serve the people He has placed around me.

8Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

MATTHEW 28:8-20

MAY 29, 2026

 

“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens..."

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

1 CHRONICLES 26-27

In the closing chapters of David’s reign, we see a meticulous list of men tasked with specific duties—keepers of storehouses, vineyards, olive groves, herds, and flocks. Men like Azmaveth, Shimei, and Obil didn’t wield swords or write psalms, but they were faithful in their assignments. Their callings, though practical and often unseen, were still sacred. Each job, however humble, played a role in the stability of the kingdom and the provision for God’s people. It reminds us that the mundane is not meaningless when it’s submitted to God.

(27:25-31)

JOHN 11:18-46

Jesus, standing before the tomb of Lazarus, doesn’t flinch in the face of death. Even when others hesitate because of the stench of death and the impossibility of resurrection, He commands: “Take away the stone.” When Martha questions Him, He replies, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” (John 11:40).
And then, the miracle happens. Lazarus walks out. The dead lives again. But this miracle required faith that endured the darkness—the kind of faith that waits, weeps, obeys, and finally sees the glory of God unfold.

JOURNAL 

One thing I have started noticing about myself lately is how often I quietly wish my life were different. It happens almost automatically. I see someone driving a new car, a family at a lake house, a man in incredible shape, pictures from vacations, success, confidence, freedom, peace, and almost instantly something inside me drifts into comparison. It is subtle, but constant. I start imagining what it would feel like to have their life instead of mine. Then almost immediately my mind begins tracing backward through my own story, replaying failures, mistakes, wasted opportunities, regrets, shortcomings, and places where I feel I ruined what could have been.

It is not always dramatic or crippling. I do not crawl into a hole and quit living. In fact, outwardly I often keep moving just fine. But underneath, there is this quiet current of shame and dissatisfaction that seems to always be humming in the background. A low-grade belief that my life somehow missed the mark. That if I had done things differently, been better, smarter, more disciplined, more successful, then maybe I could have had a life worth fully celebrating.

But I am beginning to realize this is its own form of darkness. Not because ambition or desire are sinful in themselves, but because at the root of it is a rejection of my own story. It is the inability to receive my life as a gift. It is forgetting that God did not merely love some future perfected version of me. He loved me in the middle of my failures. He loved me in the confusion, selfishness, pride, fear, insecurity, and brokenness. Salvation itself is built on this reality. Christ did not die for an imaginary version of me. He died for the real me. The ashamed me. The striving me. The fearful me.

And that changes everything. Because if God can fully see me and still love me, then maybe my life is not the tragedy I sometimes imagine it to be. Maybe the greatest gift was never the perfect body, the lake house, the flawless decisions, the wealth, the status, or the easier road. Maybe the greatest gift is that through all my wandering and failures, I have come to know the love and mercy of God personally. Intimately. Not theoretically.

I think that is why comparison is so dangerous. It makes me long for lives that are not mine. But if I had their life, I would lose my story. I would lose the specific ways God has pursued me, humbled me, forgiven me, carried me, and revealed Himself to me. I would lose the moments where grace became real because I finally ran out of strength to pretend I had everything together.

The men listed in Chronicles remind me of this. So many of them had ordinary assignments. Keepers of storehouses. Overseers of vineyards. Caretakers of flocks. Their lives probably did not look extraordinary from the outside, yet God saw every one of them worthy of mention. Their faithfulness mattered. Their lives mattered. Not because they were impressive, but because they belonged within the story God was telling.

That gives me peace. Maybe my calling is not to become someone else. Maybe holiness begins with receiving the life I have actually been given. Receiving it with gratitude instead of resentment. Receiving even the wounds and failures as places where God has met me with mercy.

Jesus standing before Lazarus’ tomb feels connected to this too. Everyone else sees death, disappointment, finality, and hopelessness. Jesus sees resurrection. He tells them to remove the stone before anyone understands what He is about to do. That is faith. Faith is not pretending darkness does not exist. Faith is believing God can still bring life out of what feels ruined.

There are parts of my life that feel dead. Dreams that did not unfold the way I imagined. Choices I wish I could undo. Years where fear quietly shaped more of me than love did. But Jesus still stands before those tombs and says, “Take away the stone.” Maybe the miracle is not that I become someone else. Maybe the miracle is that Christ keeps calling me back to life within my own story.

Peter stepping onto the water feels the same way. He does not walk on water because he is fearless or perfect. He walks because Jesus calls him. For a moment, Peter stops measuring himself against the storm and simply trusts the voice of Christ. That is the invitation for me too. To stop obsessing over the lives of others and to trust that Jesus is present in mine.

So today I do not want to say farewell when the road darkens. I want to believe that even here, in this imperfect and unfinished life, the glory of God is still unfolding. My life is not valuable because it is flawless. It is valuable because it has been loved, redeemed, forgiven, and continually nurtured by God even at my worst...honestly, that may be the lottery of all gifts.

27But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

28“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

29“Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 

MATTHEW 14:27-29

MAY 28, 2026

 “If you're reading this...

Congratulations, you're alive.

If that's not something to smile about,

then I don't know what is.” 

― Chad Sugg

1 CHRONICLES 23-25

6All these men were under the supervision of their father for the music of the temple of the Lord, with cymbals, lyres and harps, for the ministry at the house of God.

Asaph, Jeduthun and Heman were under the supervision of the king. 7Along with their relatives—all of them trained and skilled in music for the Lord—they numbered 288. (25:6-7)

JOHN 11:1-17

9Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Anyone who walks in the daytime will not stumble, for they see by this world’s light. 10It is when a person walks at night that they stumble, for they have no light.”

11After he had said this, he went on to tell them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up.”

JOURNAL 

What strikes me most in these chapters of Chronicles is not simply David’s leadership, but the tenderness and intentionality behind it. As he nears the end of his life, he is not consumed with preserving his image or building monuments to himself. Instead, he is carefully establishing places for others. Priests, gatekeepers, musicians, servants, entire generations are being prepared for worship and service. Even the musicians are named, counted, trained, and valued. That says something profound about the heart of God. Love notices people. Love sees worth where the world often sees insignificance. The Kingdom of God is not built merely on power, achievement, or visibility, but on relationship, belonging, and participation. Every person matters because every person is loved by God.

The more I reflect on Scripture, the more I think salvation is not simply about escaping punishment, but about being brought out of hiding and back into relationship with the God who fully sees us. Sin introduced shame, and shame caused humanity to hide. Ever since Eden, people have been constructing identities, accomplishments, control, religion, and pride to avoid being truly known. But love calls us back into the light. That is why 1 John says if we walk in darkness while claiming fellowship with God, we lie. Darkness is not merely immoral behavior. Darkness is hiding. It is living disconnected from truth and refusing to believe we could actually be loved as we really are. Walking in the light means living honestly before God. It means surrendering the false self we keep trying to protect.

That is exactly what Jesus models in John 11. The disciples are terrified to return to Judea because of the threats against Him, but Jesus is not governed by fear. He walks forward calmly because He is fully aligned with the Father. He is walking in the light. What stands out to me is that Jesus never seems frantic about preserving Himself. Fear always turns inward. Fear obsesses over survival, reputation, control, and outcomes. But love frees a person from constantly protecting themselves because they already know who holds them. Jesus walks toward danger because He trusts the Father completely.

That is the invitation for all of us. To stop spending our lives trying to manufacture worth or secure love through performance, success, religion, control, or image management. To stop hiding in darkness. To believe that in Christ we are already fully seen and still deeply loved. That changes gratitude entirely. Gratitude is no longer just appreciation for circumstances. It becomes the response of someone who realizes they are alive, known, forgiven, and loved by God in the middle of all their imperfection.

That kind of gratitude creates light. It opens our eyes to the sacredness of ordinary moments: breath, conversations, music, service, today itself. That is why simply being alive matters so much. Every day is another opportunity to walk in the light instead of fear. Another opportunity to stop hiding. Another opportunity to trust the love of God enough to be honest. If you are alive, then grace is still reaching for you. Light is still calling you forward. And love has not given up on you yet.

5This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. 6If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. 7But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all^bsin. 

1 JOHN 1:5-7