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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
I grew up in Mississippi, where my mother and grandmother had an incredible gift of hospitality. Sunday dinner would start around one o'clock in the afternoon and stretch into the evening—we'd eat, laugh, talk, sleep, eat again, and eventually finish with pound cake. My grandmother had a special room reserved for company that children couldn't enter, and of course, there was the famous plastic-covered couch that every household seemed to have. We had the kids' table, which was fun until you turned seventeen and were still sitting there watching three-year-old cousins.
But even in the midst of this warm hospitality, there were restricted spaces. When I think about God's hospitality, He invites us to "come to the table and feast on my love, my joy, my grace, my compassion." Yet in our Christian culture, we've created closed-off rooms—spaces marked by areas of unbelief and doubt. We tell each other: "If you're a Christian and you have doubts, don't you go in there."
This forces us into a terrible position. We either take our doubts outside of God's hospitality, or worse, we pretend we don't have them at all. One of the worst postures you can take with your theology is to fake it till you make it. With God, authenticity is essential—the very essence of following Him is to show up authentically, right where you are.
Jesus encountered a father whose son was possessed by demons. The child was tormented and terrorized, thrown into fire repeatedly. When Jesus asked the father, "Do you believe?" the man answered: "Yes, I believe, but help my unbelief."
He just contradicted himself—or did he? What he understood was that belief and unbelief can dwell in the same house, in the same mind, in the same situation. He was saying: "Yes, I believe. I haven't lost all hope. But I've seen some things that challenge my faith. I've seen my son tormented in ways I can't explain. I've seen you remove cancer from others, but not from our family. I know you didn't cause these things, but in your sovereignty, you allowed them. So yes, I believe you, but I have doubts. I have areas where your sovereignty has allowed things that are hard to swallow."
So what do you do with that? You can follow Jesus with unbelief. The best way to wrestle with God is with God. When you hit doubts and struggles, that's not the time to leave the church—that's not when you leave God. Your problem is with Him, so lean in with Him. When you process doubt with God, you discover something remarkable.
Here's what I've learned: God is much less interested in answering your prayers than you may realize. We put enormous pressure on God to give us the right answer, and we spend so much time trying to get the answer we want. Some of you have it all listed out, waiting for God to fill in the blank. You've got the space in your journal ready. Two words—that's all you need God to say.
But God is asking: "What if I'm not interested in filling in your blanks? What if I'm not sitting in heaven, trying desperately to get your blanks filled this week?"
When I was in school, I was terrible at math. One day, my math book fell open to the back, and I discovered—the answers were right there! I started turning in my homework perfectly, and about two weeks in, my teacher, Ms. Oliver, asked me to stay after class. She said, "Albert, I noticed your homework grades have really gone up."
I thought I was in trouble. But she said, "Yeah, but I noticed that you've been putting the right answers, and I haven't seen you show any of your work."
She explained something crucial: "Albert, I know you think it's a big deal to have the right answers, and that's important. But it may surprise you to know that I am actually much more interested in your work, your process, your journey to the right answer. Having the right answer is one thing, but seeing your work lets me know that you are comprehending and understanding how the mathematical problem works. I'm looking for your analysis, your journey to the answer, and that's more valuable to me than the actual answer."
God is saying the same thing to us: "I'm way less interested in your answer, and I'm much more interested in our journey together, our process together." That shows your comprehension of my grace and my love. I'm not interested in filling the blank in your journal. I'm interested in filling the hole in your life. I want to walk with you.
We should all doubt like Thomas. Thomas gets a bad reputation, but here's the thing: he wasn't the only disciple with doubts. All the disciples were locked in that room, terrified. Thomas just had the courage to say something. If nobody had doubts, why was the door locked? Why weren't they walking around?
The best way to doubt is in community—with other people who love Jesus too. Thomas didn't look for a way away from Jesus; he was actually looking for Jesus. He said, "I have doubts—where is Jesus?" He was specific: "Show me the hole in His hand, and I'll believe."
I imagine Jesus, restored in His glorified body, with angels preparing to close His wounds. But Jesus says, "No, no, no. Leave that. Leave that open."
The angels ask, "Jesus, why would we leave the holes in your hand? We've restored everything else."
And Jesus responds, "Thomas. You know Thomas—he's going to need to see this to believe. He's going to have questions. Leave both of them open."
When Jesus showed Thomas, He said: "Here, Thomas. I made a way for your doubts. I got grace for your doubts. I already thought about you and the doubts you bring, and I already made a way for you."
Bring your doubts. Bring your unbelief. We have a God who already made a way for both.
In Exodus, the children of Israel came out of Egypt, guided literally by the hand of God across dry land through the Red Sea. God did amazing things for them. Now they're in the wilderness, waiting for Moses, who's on the mountain with God receiving what would become the Ten Commandments.
But they're tired of waiting. What do you do when God takes too long? What do you do when God's timing isn't your timing?
They said to Aaron, "Build us a new God, because we don't know what has happened to this one."
In church, we celebrate the Red Sea moments—when Jesus came at 1:59 when we needed Him at 2:00. We sing about God healing our tumors, providing money for our bills just in time. But what about when God doesn't show up just in time? What about when you needed Him Thursday at two o'clock, and now it's the following Wednesday and you've heard nothing? What about when the tumor didn't get smaller—it got bigger and began to spread? What about when the bill didn't get paid, and now you're sitting in the dark because you can't pay your utilities?
What do you do with a God who does His own thing? What do you do with a God who goes off-script? What do you do with a God who refuses to follow your prayer list? If you're like the children of Israel, you replace Him.
They said, "Let's build a golden calf, because we want a god we can push around. We want a god we can dictate to—one we can control."
Why a golden calf? It came from Egypt. In Egypt, this plurality of gods was common—gods for different things, different experiences. Although they had come out of Egypt, Egypt hadn't quite come out of them. They reached for what was familiar instead of trusting the One who had been faithful.
Soon as God acted a little differently than expected, they went back to what was familiar. It's amazing how quickly Egypt rises up in all of us. As soon as we get frustrated with God, we kind of go right back to it. It just amazes me how Egypt rises up.
Notice what happened: Aaron reached for their gold, but they were longing for God. They were longing for God, but they reached for gold.
This raises the question: What are you longing for, and what are you reaching for? Do you know the difference?
Often, we're longing for intimacy but reaching for pornography. We're longing for security that could only come from God, but reaching for more money. We're longing for peace, but reaching for sleeping pills, trying to numb ourselves into rest—only to wake up emotionally just as tired as before. The rest we're longing for is the shalom that only comes from God, but we're reaching for more alcohol, more food, more things to check out.
We go from one relationship to another to another, thinking if we could just get somebody to hold us, we'd find comfort. But we're longing for something only God can provide.
When God goes off script—when He puts you in a situation or circumstance you didn't see coming, when He shows up in a way you would never have planned or scheduled—what's your reaction? Do you replace Him? Do you start reaching for other things? Do you start reaching for what's familiar at the cost of the One who has been faithful?
I pray that your longings and your reachings would collide, and in that collision you would know that you were made to long for God, so your reach needs to be willed to the heart and passion of God.
David says it like this:
One thing have I desired and that will I seek after. One thing have I longed for, and that will I reach after—that I dwell in the house of the Lord and see His beauty, engaging in his temple, and allowing who He is to daily shape who I am.
And you get to come to Him, frustration and all, doubts and all.
We think doubt is the opposite of faith. No, doubt is the result of faith. You don't believe me? Ask an atheist how much they doubt. They don't doubt at all, because they don't believe at all. They aren't sitting around saying, "Oh, I've got so many doubts about God." No, they're saying, "I don't believe in Him at all." They don't have any doubts.
The fact that you're doubting means that you've got belief. The fact that you're doubting means that you're still wrestling. That means you're still in there. You still believe. So reach for Him. In your doubts, reach for Him. In your frustration, in your disbelief, reach for Him.
One thing have I desired. I ain't reaching for nothing else but the thing I desire, and, God, that's you. And I'm coming, flaws and all. And He says, "I've been waiting on you."
Here are the holes. Here's my hand. Put the back of the book away. This is not a time for answers. It's a time for my presence, and in my presence, you will begin to experience the fullness of joy. Because it was never found in the answers. It was always found in my presence.
So what do you do with a disobedient God? You trust Him. You reach for Him because He's the One that's been reaching for you this whole time.
I grew up in Mississippi, where my mother and grandmother had an incredible gift of hospitality. Sunday dinner would start around one o'clock in the afternoon and stretch into the evening—we'd eat, laugh, talk, sleep, eat again, and eventually finish with pound cake. My grandmother had a special room reserved for company that children couldn't enter, and of course, there was the famous plastic-covered couch that every household seemed to have. We had the kids' table, which was fun until you turned seventeen and were still sitting there watching three-year-old cousins.
But even in the midst of this warm hospitality, there were restricted spaces. When I think about God's hospitality, He invites us to "come to the table and feast on my love, my joy, my grace, my compassion." Yet in our Christian culture, we've created closed-off rooms—spaces marked by areas of unbelief and doubt. We tell each other: "If you're a Christian and you have doubts, don't you go in there."
This forces us into a terrible position. We either take our doubts outside of God's hospitality, or worse, we pretend we don't have them at all. One of the worst postures you can take with your theology is to fake it till you make it. With God, authenticity is essential—the very essence of following Him is to show up authentically, right where you are.
Jesus encountered a father whose son was possessed by demons. The child was tormented and terrorized, thrown into fire repeatedly. When Jesus asked the father, "Do you believe?" the man answered: "Yes, I believe, but help my unbelief."
He just contradicted himself—or did he? What he understood was that belief and unbelief can dwell in the same house, in the same mind, in the same situation. He was saying: "Yes, I believe. I haven't lost all hope. But I've seen some things that challenge my faith. I've seen my son tormented in ways I can't explain. I've seen you remove cancer from others, but not from our family. I know you didn't cause these things, but in your sovereignty, you allowed them. So yes, I believe you, but I have doubts. I have areas where your sovereignty has allowed things that are hard to swallow."
So what do you do with that? You can follow Jesus with unbelief. The best way to wrestle with God is with God. When you hit doubts and struggles, that's not the time to leave the church—that's not when you leave God. Your problem is with Him, so lean in with Him. When you process doubt with God, you discover something remarkable.
Here's what I've learned: God is much less interested in answering your prayers than you may realize. We put enormous pressure on God to give us the right answer, and we spend so much time trying to get the answer we want. Some of you have it all listed out, waiting for God to fill in the blank. You've got the space in your journal ready. Two words—that's all you need God to say.
But God is asking: "What if I'm not interested in filling in your blanks? What if I'm not sitting in heaven, trying desperately to get your blanks filled this week?"
When I was in school, I was terrible at math. One day, my math book fell open to the back, and I discovered—the answers were right there! I started turning in my homework perfectly, and about two weeks in, my teacher, Ms. Oliver, asked me to stay after class. She said, "Albert, I noticed your homework grades have really gone up."
I thought I was in trouble. But she said, "Yeah, but I noticed that you've been putting the right answers, and I haven't seen you show any of your work."
She explained something crucial: "Albert, I know you think it's a big deal to have the right answers, and that's important. But it may surprise you to know that I am actually much more interested in your work, your process, your journey to the right answer. Having the right answer is one thing, but seeing your work lets me know that you are comprehending and understanding how the mathematical problem works. I'm looking for your analysis, your journey to the answer, and that's more valuable to me than the actual answer."
God is saying the same thing to us: "I'm way less interested in your answer, and I'm much more interested in our journey together, our process together." That shows your comprehension of my grace and my love. I'm not interested in filling the blank in your journal. I'm interested in filling the hole in your life. I want to walk with you.
We should all doubt like Thomas. Thomas gets a bad reputation, but here's the thing: he wasn't the only disciple with doubts. All the disciples were locked in that room, terrified. Thomas just had the courage to say something. If nobody had doubts, why was the door locked? Why weren't they walking around?
The best way to doubt is in community—with other people who love Jesus too. Thomas didn't look for a way away from Jesus; he was actually looking for Jesus. He said, "I have doubts—where is Jesus?" He was specific: "Show me the hole in His hand, and I'll believe."
I imagine Jesus, restored in His glorified body, with angels preparing to close His wounds. But Jesus says, "No, no, no. Leave that. Leave that open."
The angels ask, "Jesus, why would we leave the holes in your hand? We've restored everything else."
And Jesus responds, "Thomas. You know Thomas—he's going to need to see this to believe. He's going to have questions. Leave both of them open."
When Jesus showed Thomas, He said: "Here, Thomas. I made a way for your doubts. I got grace for your doubts. I already thought about you and the doubts you bring, and I already made a way for you."
Bring your doubts. Bring your unbelief. We have a God who already made a way for both.
In Exodus, the children of Israel came out of Egypt, guided literally by the hand of God across dry land through the Red Sea. God did amazing things for them. Now they're in the wilderness, waiting for Moses, who's on the mountain with God receiving what would become the Ten Commandments.
But they're tired of waiting. What do you do when God takes too long? What do you do when God's timing isn't your timing?
They said to Aaron, "Build us a new God, because we don't know what has happened to this one."
In church, we celebrate the Red Sea moments—when Jesus came at 1:59 when we needed Him at 2:00. We sing about God healing our tumors, providing money for our bills just in time. But what about when God doesn't show up just in time? What about when you needed Him Thursday at two o'clock, and now it's the following Wednesday and you've heard nothing? What about when the tumor didn't get smaller—it got bigger and began to spread? What about when the bill didn't get paid, and now you're sitting in the dark because you can't pay your utilities?
What do you do with a God who does His own thing? What do you do with a God who goes off-script? What do you do with a God who refuses to follow your prayer list? If you're like the children of Israel, you replace Him.
They said, "Let's build a golden calf, because we want a god we can push around. We want a god we can dictate to—one we can control."
Why a golden calf? It came from Egypt. In Egypt, this plurality of gods was common—gods for different things, different experiences. Although they had come out of Egypt, Egypt hadn't quite come out of them. They reached for what was familiar instead of trusting the One who had been faithful.
Soon as God acted a little differently than expected, they went back to what was familiar. It's amazing how quickly Egypt rises up in all of us. As soon as we get frustrated with God, we kind of go right back to it. It just amazes me how Egypt rises up.
Notice what happened: Aaron reached for their gold, but they were longing for God. They were longing for God, but they reached for gold.
This raises the question: What are you longing for, and what are you reaching for? Do you know the difference?
Often, we're longing for intimacy but reaching for pornography. We're longing for security that could only come from God, but reaching for more money. We're longing for peace, but reaching for sleeping pills, trying to numb ourselves into rest—only to wake up emotionally just as tired as before. The rest we're longing for is the shalom that only comes from God, but we're reaching for more alcohol, more food, more things to check out.
We go from one relationship to another to another, thinking if we could just get somebody to hold us, we'd find comfort. But we're longing for something only God can provide.
When God goes off script—when He puts you in a situation or circumstance you didn't see coming, when He shows up in a way you would never have planned or scheduled—what's your reaction? Do you replace Him? Do you start reaching for other things? Do you start reaching for what's familiar at the cost of the One who has been faithful?
I pray that your longings and your reachings would collide, and in that collision you would know that you were made to long for God, so your reach needs to be willed to the heart and passion of God.
David says it like this:
One thing have I desired and that will I seek after. One thing have I longed for, and that will I reach after—that I dwell in the house of the Lord and see His beauty, engaging in his temple, and allowing who He is to daily shape who I am.
And you get to come to Him, frustration and all, doubts and all.
We think doubt is the opposite of faith. No, doubt is the result of faith. You don't believe me? Ask an atheist how much they doubt. They don't doubt at all, because they don't believe at all. They aren't sitting around saying, "Oh, I've got so many doubts about God." No, they're saying, "I don't believe in Him at all." They don't have any doubts.
The fact that you're doubting means that you've got belief. The fact that you're doubting means that you're still wrestling. That means you're still in there. You still believe. So reach for Him. In your doubts, reach for Him. In your frustration, in your disbelief, reach for Him.
One thing have I desired. I ain't reaching for nothing else but the thing I desire, and, God, that's you. And I'm coming, flaws and all. And He says, "I've been waiting on you."
Here are the holes. Here's my hand. Put the back of the book away. This is not a time for answers. It's a time for my presence, and in my presence, you will begin to experience the fullness of joy. Because it was never found in the answers. It was always found in my presence.
So what do you do with a disobedient God? You trust Him. You reach for Him because He's the One that's been reaching for you this whole time.
