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  • 27 Years In: What I’ve Learned About Being a Good Husband and Dad

    Today is my 27th wedding anniversary.

    Twenty-seven years with the same woman. Three kids. A lot of laughter, some really hard seasons, and more grace than I deserve.

    I’m not a marriage expert. I don’t have a counseling degree. I’m just a guy who’s still trying to figure it out, still failing sometimes, and still deeply grateful that Aunalie has stuck with me through it all.

    Here’s what I’ve learned so far — the pragmatic stuff that actually matters more than the romantic fluff:

    1. Marriage is not 50/50. It’s 100/100 on the days you can give it, and grace on the days you can’t.

    Some days you’ll both be at 100%. Most days, one of you will be running on fumes. The secret isn’t keeping score. It’s being willing to give 100% even when your spouse can only give 30%. And when you’re the one at 30%, receive the grace without guilt.

    I’ve had seasons where I was a terrible husband — distracted, short-tempered, selfish. Aunalie gave more than her share. Other seasons, she was struggling and I had to carry more. That’s marriage. Keep showing up.

    2. Your wife doesn’t need a perfect husband. She needs a husband who is present and honest.

    Presence beats perfection every time. Put the phone down. Look her in the eye when she talks. Ask how her day actually was — and listen to the answer.

    Say you’re sorry when you’re wrong. Say it quickly. Say it specifically. “I’m sorry” is powerful, but “I’m sorry I raised my voice and dismissed your feelings when you were trying to tell me about your hard day” is even better.

    3. Being a good dad is simpler than we make it.

    Show up. Keep your word. Listen more than you lecture. Admit when you’re wrong in front of your kids — it teaches them humility and that it’s safe to fail.

    Love their mom well in front of them. That might be the most important thing you can do as a father. Kids feel security when they see their parents choosing each other.

    I have three sons: James, Kristopher, and Chance. Chance is no longer with us, but he existed, he mattered, and he is still part of our family story. My living boys have seen me at my best and my worst. I hope they remember a dad who wasn’t perfect, but who kept showing up and tried to love their mom well.

    Spend time with them doing things they care about, even if you don’t. Those moments matter more than any “perfect” family devotional.

    4. Sex matters, but it’s not the most important thing.

    Physical intimacy is important, but in a long marriage it ebbs and flows. What matters more is emotional safety and affection outside the bedroom. Hold her hand. Kiss her when you walk in the door. Tell her she’s beautiful when she’s in sweatpants with no makeup.

    A marriage that only has romance when it’s convenient won’t last. A marriage that has friendship and respect can weather a lot of dry seasons.

    5. Forgive quickly. Keep short accounts.

    Bitterness grows in the small, unaddressed things. Talk about the hard stuff before it festers. Say “I forgive you” out loud. Mean it.

    After 27 years, I can tell you the biggest regrets aren’t the big fights — they’re the small moments where I chose pride over peace.

    6. Pray for your wife and kids more than you complain about them.

    This one is simple but brutally hard. When I’m frustrated with Aunalie or one of the boys, the most powerful thing I can do is stop and pray for them instead of rehearsing my grievances. It changes my heart faster than anything else.

    Final thought

    Marriage isn’t about finding the right person. It’s about becoming the right person — day after day, year after year — for the one you promised to love.

    I’m still learning. I still fail. But I’m more grateful today than I was on April 17, 1999, because I’ve seen how faithful God has been even when I wasn’t.

    To Aunalie: thank you for loving me when I was hard to love. Thank you for the grace, the laughter, the patience, and the way you still make me want to be a better man.

    To my sons — James, Kristopher, and Chance: I hope you see a dad who isn’t perfect, but who keeps showing up and trying to love your mom well. Chance, you are still loved and remembered.

    If you’re married, don’t wait for the big anniversary to say the important things. Say them today.

    If you’re not married yet, remember this: the best gift you can give your future spouse is becoming the kind of person who knows how to love faithfully when it’s hard.

    27 years in, and I’m still convinced it’s worth it.

  • True Green Living: God’s Ecology (Not the Political Kind)

    Several years ago at Nazarene Theological Seminary, I had to read Norman Wirzba’s book Food and Faith for a class on Christian ethics. When I first opened it, I rolled my eyes. Being somewhat close-minded on the topic at the time, I thought, “Oh boy… hippie ideology.”

    I was wrong.

    First of all, I cannot recommend the book enough. Wirzba writes with clarity and humility. He points out failures in our relationship with creation without making the reader feel like a complete failure themselves. It’s thoughtful, biblical, and surprisingly practical.

    The reason I’ve been thinking about this again is pretty simple.

    I’m forty-eight years old as I write this, and I have a wide range of hobbies — WWE, college wrestling, fishing, reading, building models, birdwatching, you name it. Recently, I decided I wanted to turn my flower garden into a real spot of tranquility (as much tranquility as one can find in a development with an HOA). I can’t turn the entire property into a wild nature garden… I don’t think the neighbors or the HOA would appreciate that.

    But as I’ve been working on it, I’ve been reflecting again on what it actually means to care for creation in a distinctly Christian way.

    Ecology Has Become Political

    Unfortunately, “green living” has been hijacked and turned into a political ideology. You see jet-setting celebrities and politicians lecturing the rest of us about our carbon footprint while they fly private and destroy local environments. One very famous actor reportedly trashed a beach so badly it had to be closed. Meanwhile, some on the other side reject any concern for the environment simply because “those people” care about it.

    Both extremes are foolish.

    I suppose you could say I was “green” before it was cool — or hated. But my version didn’t come from political activism. It came from my childhood in West Virginia.

    Learning from Pappaw

    I was blessed to grow up next door to my mother’s parents in a very small community. By my earliest memories, my grandfather (I called him Pappaw) was already retired from the coal mines. He spent his days working in his basement workshop and tending to three rather massive gardens.

    It’s the gardens I remember most.

    Every spring, summer, and fall, I helped him lug 5-gallon buckets of water up and down each row so he could give every plant a half mason jar of water. But what stuck with me even more were his stories and practical wisdom.

    He planted massive sunflowers for no other reason than “to feed the bees, Casper. We have to be responsible.”

    One of his gardens rotated every year. He’d plant soybeans and then simply plow or till them back under “to restore what the plants took from the soil last year.” It was green living without the name or the politics — just good stewardship.

    If I had an apple, I was expected to eat all of it, right down to the seeds (he called them “eeples”). Nothing was wasted. A lot of that was hard-won by living through the Great Depression, but a lot of it was simple common sense transitioning into a “more modern era.”

    Back to My Garden

    I really like birds. I’ve recently gotten into birding. I have several bird feeders on my property and will be installing a couple bird houses shortly. I watch the birds hop around, eat seed, whatever. We’ve had a rabbit — we call her Fluffy — living under one of my knockout roses in the daytime. Her den is in my neighbor’s yard. I like honey bees.

    I got to thinking: “What can I plant that will grow back year after year that will attract birds, bees, insects, all the pollinators — AND look pretty?” Pretty is nice, but secondary to functional.

    According to my research, the answer was Black Eyed Susans, Catmint, Butterfly Bushes, Bee Balm, Purple Coneflowers, Shasta Daisies, Irish Moss, Creeping Phlox, and Salvia. I also added a raspberry bush. They’re just now starting to show flowers, and Fluffy is even more at home… eating the Phlox.

    The benefit is seeing the bees all over it. I’m actually very allergic to bee stings, but I can sit and watch European Honey Bees all day long. The birds have been coming more and more — House Finches, American Goldfinches, Mourning Doves, the occasional Northern Cardinal, Red-Winged Blackbird, Chipping Sparrows, and others. The Robins love the worms the gardening scares up.

    So… what does this have to do with Wirzba’s book? Hang on — I’m getting there.

    Dominion Is Not Destruction

    First thing we need to remember: while God gave us dominion over this world, He absolutely did not give us a mandate to destroy it. There is an old Alabama song that says “it’s only ours to borrow, let’s save some for tomorrow.”

    This is also true. I’d like to think we’re well past the “whatever works for me right now and to hell with the future or those who complain about it.”

    Here’s the thing: there’s something about growing your own food — or even just tending a garden with care — that will change you. I’m not allowed to grow food in my current neighborhood, but I have this daydream of an ecological homestead of, say, 30 acres where only fewer than 5 will be developed for human use… the rest of it left alone or developed to the benefit of the other creatures that inhabit it — deer, coyotes, Pileated Woodpeckers, black rat snakes. Nothing is too “vile” or “scary” to be stewarded.

    To set this up, I have to tell you a couple truths: I don’t hunt. I fish, but every fish I catch gets a kiss and tossed back. I don’t like killing animals.

    But I have zero problem with those who harvest animals responsibly, and I still eat meat that I buy at the grocery store… which is where the problem begins for me, and most of us.

    Wirzba wrote, “Food is about the relationships that join us to the earth, fellow creatures, loved ones and guests, and ultimately God. How we eat testifies to whether we value the creatures we live with and depend on” (Wirzba, p. 6).

    Eating is necessarily destructive — there’s no way around that. But we can limit that destruction.

    As I’ve said, I love to fish, but I’m a catch-and-release guy. In Ohio, the minimum limit to keep a Walleye is 15 inches and you can only keep 6. Walleye is a huge deal here, especially in Lake Erie and the Maumee River… and the conservation-minded will call you out if you’ve foul-hooked one or try to keep those you shouldn’t.

    But… what if people aren’t watching? If you’ll only do it when nobody is watching, that’s an indicator you know it’s wrong. Pretty soon everybody keeps a few that are 14”, then the bar gets lowered; or “what’s the harm in keeping 8?” A million people keeping 2 extra is two million extra fish kept when they shouldn’t.

    That expedites the destruction of the fishery and does irreparable harm to the ecosystem, eventually bringing stricter restrictions or shutting down the sport entirely.

    Factory farming has removed us too far from the destructiveness of our eating habits, causing us to be a bit more gluttonous and more animals to needlessly die. We just need to pause and think a bit more.

    Giving Back More Than We Take

    Then the “real green” comes in: giving back more than you’ve taken. Setting up a refuge. Don’t kill a coyote just because it exists. Simple stuff like that.

    God gave us dominion over creation (Genesis 1:26-28), but dominion is not domination or destruction. The Hebrew word for “subdue” (kabash) and “rule” (radah) is balanced by Genesis 2:15, where humanity is placed in the garden “to work it and take care of it” (avad and shamar — the same words used for serving God and keeping His commandments). We are stewards, not owners. The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it (Psalm 24:1).

    Wirzba reminds us that how we eat reveals whether we value the creatures we live with and depend on. When we forget the cost of our food — the soil depleted, the animals treated as commodities, the waste generated — we live as if creation exists only for our convenience.

    My Pappaw didn’t call it “ecology.” He just called it being responsible.

    Maybe we need to recover that kind of simple, humble stewardship — free from both political ideology and careless indifference.

    What do you think? Have you seen practical ways to care for creation that feel faithful rather than performative? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

  • Bad Exegesis and Political Weaponizing of Scripture

    I recently saw a video in which the speaker quotes Romans 13 (“no leader is in power without God’s authority”) and then immediately claims we are also commanded to “ignore false leaders.” She uses this to justify opposing certain political figures, particularly the current American President.

    This is a textbook case of twisting Scripture for political purposes.

    The Actual Biblical Context

    Romans 13:1-7 is remarkably clear: civil authorities are established by God, and Christians are generally called to submit to them — paying taxes, honoring them, and living as good citizens. Paul wrote this while living under Nero, one of the most corrupt and brutal emperors Rome ever had (see Bruce, 1985; Schreiner, 1998). The command is not limited to leaders we like.

    The New Testament repeatedly commands us to pray for all leaders, not just the ones we approve of:

    “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people — for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” (1 Timothy 2:1-2)

    This includes leaders we dislike, disagree with, or even find morally repulsive. Prayer is not endorsement. It is obedience (see Towner, 2006; Mounce, 2000).

    The “counter verses” the speaker alludes to — warnings about false teachers, false prophets, and not following those who lead people into sin or false doctrine — are almost entirely about spiritual authority inside the church, not civil government.

    False teachers and false prophets in the New Testament are those who distort the gospel, promote immorality, or lead people away from Christ (2 Peter 2:1-3, Jude 3-4, Matthew 7:15-20, 2 Corinthians 11:13-15; see Carson, 1987; Schreiner, 2003). There is a massive categorical difference between a political leader you dislike and a false spiritual leader.

    Jesus Himself modeled submission to civil authority even when it was unjust. He paid the temple tax (Matthew 17:24-27), submitted to Pilate’s authority during His trial (John 19:11), and told His followers to “render to Caesar what is Caesar’s” (Matthew 22:21; see Blomberg, 1992). Civil disobedience is sometimes justified (Acts 5:29 — “We must obey God rather than men”), but only when the government explicitly commands us to sin or forbids us from obeying God. Disagreeing with policy or a leader’s personality is not the same thing.

    Who is speaking?

    The speaker has no formal theological credentials. A review of her content shows her output is overwhelmingly dominated by intense political opposition to Donald Trump. One video even states she left Bethel Church because they “promoted Trump.” That is a remarkably shallow reason to leave a church. Her material reads far more like political activism than biblical exposition.

    It becomes clear that her interpretation is not driven by a desire to faithfully exposit the text, but by personal animus toward the current president. Hatred — even of a flawed leader — should never override biblical authority or context.

    Let me be clear on this point: I do not support Donald Trump. I have significant disagreements with him on character, rhetoric, and several policy matters. But he currently holds real authority as President of the United States. According to Scripture, that authority exists under God’s sovereign permission (Romans 13:1; Daniel 2:21; John 19:11). My personal dislike does not nullify the biblical command to pray for him and to recognize the reality of governing authority.

    The Real Issue

    Scripture is not a political weapon to be wielded against whichever party or person we dislike. Both sides do this constantly. In this case, the selective use of Romans 13 — affirming God’s sovereignty when convenient, then pivoting to “ignore false leaders” when it’s not — is manipulative and dangerous.

    Jesus is not a Republican. Jesus is not a Democrat. Jesus is King (John 18:36-37; Revelation 19:16).

    Our ultimate allegiance is to Him, not to any earthly political tribe. Christians can and should engage in the public square — voting according to conscience, advocating for justice, speaking truth — but we must stop pretending Jesus would fully endorse either major party’s platform or that disliking a president gives us permission to twist Scripture to fit our narrative.

    Let’s stop using the Bible to justify our tribal loyalties. Let’s return to reading it on its own terms, in its own context, under the lordship of Christ alone.

    The Kingdom of God is not a political platform. It is a radically different way of being human under the rule of King Jesus.


    Citations:

    • F.F. Bruce, The Epistle of Paul to the Romans (1985)
    • Thomas R. Schreiner, Romans (Baker Exegetical Commentary, 1998)
    • Philip Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus (2006)
    • William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles (2000)
    • D.A. Carson, “Matthew” in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary (1987)
    • Thomas R. Schreiner, 1, 2 Peter, Jude (2003)
    • Craig L. Blomberg, Matthew (1992)
  • Jesus Is Not a Republican — And He’s Not a Democrat Either

    Both political parties love to claim Jesus as one of their own. Democrats often say He was basically a socialist who would support expansive government redistribution and social programs. Republicans frequently treat Him like the ultimate culture warrior for conservative values, emphasizing personal morality, law and order, and limited government.

    Both are wrong.

    Jesus is King, not a mascot for American politics. He refuses to be co-opted by any earthly ideology or party platform. Trying to squeeze Him into our modern left-right spectrum does violence to who He actually is.

    1. “Jesus was a socialist” is a bad reading

    It is true that Jesus cared deeply for the poor. He repeatedly warned about the spiritual danger of wealth (Matthew 19:23-24, Luke 12:15-21), commanded radical generosity (Luke 6:30-35, 18:22), and said that how we treat the hungry, the stranger, the sick, and the imprisoned is how we treat Him personally (Matthew 25:31-46). He praised the widow who gave her last two coins (Mark 12:41-44) and told stories that lifted up the marginalized.

    However, Jesus never endorsed socialism as a political or economic system. He told parables that assume personal responsibility, diligence, and good stewardship. In the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30), the master rewards the servants who faithfully worked with what they were given and harshly judges the one who buried his talent out of fear and laziness. The unjust steward is held accountable for his mismanagement (Luke 16:1-13). Later, the Apostle Paul writes plainly, “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10).

    Jesus called individuals to voluntary, sacrificial generosity out of love for God and neighbor — not coercive redistribution enforced by the state. Socialism, as a system, tends to disincentivize work, concentrate power in government hands, and reduce personal responsibility. These outcomes are foreign to the teachings of Jesus. He never advocated for a centralized state to manage wealth; He called people to radically generous hearts.

    2. Republicans often miss the other half

    Many on the right rightly emphasize personal morality, repentance, and the importance of character. Jesus did uphold moral truth without apology. He affirmed the moral law (Matthew 5:17-20), called people to repentance (Mark 1:15), and never shied away from naming sin.

    But Jesus also spent an enormous amount of time with the poor, the outcast, the sick, the tax collectors, and the marginalized. He commanded His followers to do the same — not just as private individuals, but as a visible community that cares for the vulnerable (Luke 4:18-19, James 1:27, Galatians 2:10, Matthew 25:31-46). He told the rich young ruler to sell everything and give to the poor (Mark 10:21). He praised the Good Samaritan who crossed social and ethnic lines to help a stranger in need (Luke 10:25-37).

    Many conservatives talk a lot about personal responsibility and moral standards while conveniently downplaying or ignoring the biblical commands to care for the least of these in concrete, sacrificial ways. Personal morality and systemic neglect of the vulnerable cannot be separated in the teaching of Jesus. Both matter.

    Jesus challenges both sides

    Jesus doesn’t fit neatly into our political categories. He challenges both sides at the same time.

    He demands both personal responsibility and sacrificial care for the least of these. He calls His people to be salt and light in every sphere of life — not to baptize one political tribe as “God’s side” and treat the other as the enemy.

    The Kingdom of God is not a political platform. It is a radically different way of being human under the rule of King Jesus. It transcends left and right, capitalism and socialism, Republican and Democrat. It judges every system and every ideology by the standard of God’s righteous character and His revealed will in Scripture.

    When we try to make Jesus a mascot for our team, we shrink the gospel and turn the King of kings into a prop for our political ambitions. That is idolatry.

    Christians should engage in the public square. We should vote, advocate for justice, speak truth, and work for the common good. But we must never confuse any political party with the Kingdom. Our ultimate allegiance is to King Jesus alone — not to red or blue, not to elephants or donkeys.

    The gospel is bigger than American politics. Let’s stop trying to make Jesus fit into our boxes. He won’t. He never has.

  • What Holiness Is… and Isn’t

    Holiness is a word used an awful lot in Christian theology — “holy,” “holiness,” “be holy,” etc. The problem is that it’s clear many people who throw the word around don’t actually know what it means, including some well-known and respected theologians (I’ll not name the one I’m thinking of… but boy, he’s pretty far off base).

    I was ordained in the Nazarene tradition, a Wesleyan-Holiness denomination. Holiness — specifically the doctrine of Entire Sanctification — is a major distinctive in the Church of the Nazarene. I still believe this emphasis is thoroughly biblical, and dismissing holiness as unimportant is simply contrary to Scripture.

    Leviticus makes it plain: “Be holy, because I am holy” (Leviticus 11:44-45; 1 Peter 1:15-16).

    Ah! So we’re supposed to be perfect like God? Got it.

    …No. That’s not what it means.

    At its root, “holy” means set apart. Distinct. Different. It means your life is increasingly marked by the character of God rather than the patterns of the world around you. People should be able to tell something is different about you — not primarily by what you say, but by how you live, especially when you don’t think anyone is watching.

    Where I Diverge from Some Holiness Traditions

    This is where the Church of the Nazarene and I began to diverge in practice. Too often, holiness got reduced to a list of external rules: no movies, no dancing, no alcohol, no “shiny objects,” no fun. (I may be exaggerating slightly, but not by much.)

    That’s not holiness.

    Going to see Gnomeo and Juliet isn’t inherently evil (unless we’re counting terrible movies as a sin). Enjoying a single beer with dinner or after mowing the lawn isn’t sinful either. Scripture doesn’t say “never drink alcohol.” It says don’t get drunk (Ephesians 5:18; Proverbs 23:29-35). Paul even told Timothy to drink a little wine for his stomach (1 Timothy 5:23).

    The obsession with external rules was often more about maintaining a certain image than about heart transformation. Jesus had strong words for that kind of religion:

    “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness.” (Matthew 23:27)

    Performative Christianity — looking holy on the outside while the inside remains unchanged — is not holiness. It’s exactly what Jesus condemned.

    Real-World Examples of Confusion

    We see this confusion played out publicly today.

    Take Sophie Rain, the OnlyFans creator who claims she can do porn and still “love Jesus” with no need for repentance. She says things like “God is very forgiving,” which is true — God is very forgiving. But forgiveness is not a license to keep sinning. Jesus never said “come as you are and stay as you are.” He said “come as you are and follow me” — which includes repentance and transformation (Mark 1:15; Luke 5:32). Any porn actress (or anyone else) who argues that God is cool with porn is simply ignoring the clear biblical call to holiness and repentance. That’s not freedom. That’s self-deception.

    On the other side, some churches (like Xenos, now Dwell) have dismissed any strong call to repentance as “legalism,” while simultaneously practicing church discipline against members struggling with same-sex attraction. That’s inconsistent at best. You can’t preach “no rules, just grace” and then selectively enforce rules when it suits you. True holiness avoids both cheap grace and harsh legalism.

    What Holiness Actually Is

    Holiness is being set apart for God.

    It is the Holy Spirit progressively making us more like Jesus in character, love, integrity, purity, and obedience. It has two inseparable sides:

    • Separation from the sinful patterns of this world.
    • Consecration to God — heart, mind, will, and body.

    Christian perfection (or Entire Sanctification) is not absolute perfection. That won’t happen until we are in God’s presence (Philippians 3:12; 1 John 1:8). Think of it like lane assist in a car: the Spirit gently nudges you back when you start to drift, but you can still override it if you’re determined to drive into oncoming traffic. Holiness is that ongoing nudging toward Christlikeness.

    My mentor Dr. Rob McCorkle has described it well: when we’re born, we’re rooted in depravity. After salvation, the “bungee cord” that pulls us toward sin is gradually replaced by a new default — being drawn toward what is holy. We can still override it, but we’re more naturally compelled toward goodness.

    In other words, true holiness is a reflection of God’s character — however imperfectly we live it out. It is not something we try our way into through sheer willpower. It is a work of grace that resets our default nature.

    Holiness is not the enemy of joy — it is the path to real joy. It is not opposed to love — it is love’s fullest expression. It is not about earning God’s favor — it is the grateful response to the favor we’ve already received in Christ.

    We will never be perfect in this life, but we are called to grow in holiness until the day we see Him face to face (1 John 3:2-3).

    That’s what holiness is.

    Everything else is just noise.

  • America Was Never Intended to Be a “Christian Nation”

    There’s a lot of talk these days about America being a “Christian nation.” Some treat the idea as obvious history. Others treat any challenge to it as an attack on Christianity itself. Both sides are missing the actual point.

    The United States was never intended to be a theocracy or an officially Christian nation.

    The proof is written directly into the First Amendment:

    “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…”

    That first clause — the Establishment Clause — was deliberate. The founders had watched Europe tear itself apart for centuries with state churches, forced conversions, religious wars, and persecution of dissenters. They wanted no part of that on American soil (Madison, Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments, 1785; McConnell, 2000).

    They were not trying to create a secular utopia. Most of the founders and early citizens were Christians of various kinds. But they were also painfully aware of what happens when government and one particular form of religion become too tightly entangled.

    Important clarification: There is NO “separation of church and state” in the Constitution

    The exact phrase “separation of church and state” never appears in the Constitution. It originated in a private 1802 letter from Thomas Jefferson to the Danbury Baptist Association, where Jefferson used the metaphor of a “wall of separation” to reassure the Baptists that the federal government would not interfere with their religious liberty or establish a national church (Jefferson to Danbury Baptists, January 1, 1802; Dreisbach, 2002; Hamburger, 2002).

    Jefferson was expressing his preference that the federal government stay out of religious matters, not that religion must be banished from public life. In fact, the First Amendment does two things at once:

    • It prevents the federal government from establishing an official religion or favoring one denomination over another.
    • It protects the free exercise of religion — meaning the state is permitted to participate in and benefit from religious influence, as long as it does not coerce belief or establish a state church (McConnell, 2000; Treaty of Tripoli, Article 11, ratified 1797 under Adams).

    The founders expected religion (especially Christianity) to have a healthy, public role in shaping morality and virtue. They simply did not want the government forcing people into one form of it.

    What the founders actually believed

    They assumed a moral and religious people would be necessary for the republic to survive. Washington, Adams, and others said this repeatedly (Washington, Farewell Address, 1796; Adams to Massachusetts Militia, 1798). They believed Christian ethics generally produced good citizens. But they deliberately rejected the idea of an official Christian theocracy with enforced religious conformity (Madison, Memorial and Remonstrance, 1785; Curry, 1986).

    This is very different from the “Christian nationalism” talk we hear today. The founders were protecting religious liberty for everyone — including future Jews, Muslims, atheists, and dissenters within Christianity — because they understood that once government picks a favored religion, freedom eventually dies (McConnell, 2000; Dreisbach, 2002).

    Why this matters now

    When Christians today insist that America must be legally recognized as a “Christian nation,” they are often arguing for something the founders intentionally avoided. When secularists claim there must be a total “separation of church and state,” they are reading into the Constitution something that isn’t there.

    Jesus Himself refused to use political power to advance His kingdom. When the crowd tried to make Him king by force, He withdrew. When Pilate asked if He was a king, Jesus replied, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36).

    The gospel advances by persuasion and transformation of the heart, not by legislation or state power.

    Christians should be salt and light in every nation — including America. We should advocate for justice, morality, and human flourishing. But we should never confuse political power with the Kingdom of God.

    America was founded as a constitutional republic with religious liberty, not as a theocracy. The founders knew the difference. We should too.


    Citations:

    • James Madison, Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments (1785)
    • Michael W. McConnell, “Why is Religious Liberty the ‘First Freedom’?” (2000)
    • Daniel L. Dreisbach, Thomas Jefferson and the Wall of Separation Between Church and State (2002)
    • Philip Hamburger, Separation of Church and State (2002)
    • George Washington, Farewell Address (1796)
    • Treaty of Tripoli, Article 11 (1797)
    • Thomas J. Curry, The First Freedoms: Church and State in America to the Passage of the First Amendment (1986)
  • There Is No “Science vs. Religion” War — And Both Sides Need to Stop Pretending There Is

    There really is no “science vs. religion” war — or at least, there shouldn’t be.

    Yet certain loud voices keep trying to force one. On one side you have Seth MacFarlane, who likes to mock Christians as believers in a “Sky Daddy” and once claimed creationists are less intelligent than people with severe cognitive disabilities. On the other side sits Ken Ham, who insists Genesis 1 must be read as six literal 24-hour days and treats anyone who disagrees as a closet atheist or compromiser.

    I have almost zero respect for either man. Both are thin-skinned pseudointellectuals who excel at insults but struggle with actual conversation unless their audience already agrees with them. Disagree with MacFarlane and you’ll get sarcasm or a reminder that he’s friends with Neil deGrasse Tyson. Disagree with Ham and you’ll be called a compromiser or worse. Both build strawmen, traffic in surface-level arguments, and prefer mockery over engagement.

    I’m using them only as stand-ins for the broader problem: far too many people on both sides act as if science and religion are inherently at war. They are not. Accepting this truth does not make you a traitor to your “side.”

    Let me be clear about my own position. I am not a Young Earth Creationist — I consider that position indefensible. I am not a deist. I am also not anti-science; I have a deep appreciation for astronomy and cosmology. At the same time, I am a Christian theologian who believes God created the universe and that Jesus rose from the dead. These things are not incompatible. It is the height of willful stupidity to insist they must be.

    The Problem Starts with Genesis 1–2

    Much of the unnecessary conflict comes from how people read the opening chapters of Genesis. A small but vocal group of Christians insists on six literal 24-hour days, a physical Garden of Eden, and a young earth. On the flip side, critics assume every Christian must hold that view and then mock the faith accordingly.

    Both approaches miss the mark.

    The key Hebrew word in Genesis 1 is yom (יוֹם). While it can mean a literal day, it frequently carries a broader, more flexible meaning — an epoch, an indefinite period of time, or simply “when” something occurred. This is the same word used in other parts of Scripture in clearly non-literal ways. Context matters. The sun is not created until the fourth “yom,” which already complicates a strict solar-day reading. The highly structured, poetic form of Genesis 1 (“evening and morning, the Xth yom”) strongly suggests literary framework rather than scientific chronology. The chapter is theological poetry declaring God’s sovereignty and order, not a modern scientific timetable.

    Science and Faith Are Compatible

    We have strong evidence that the universe is billions of years old: cosmic microwave background radiation, the formation of stars and heavier elements, and the fossil record. None of this precludes God. In fact, many serious thinkers on both sides of the faith question have long recognized that science and religion address different domains.

    Christian philosopher and theologian William Lane Craig has repeatedly affirmed that the Big Bang cosmology provides powerful scientific confirmation of the biblical doctrine of creation out of nothing. He argues that a universe with a finite beginning aligns with the theological claim that God created the cosmos. Far from seeing science as a threat, Craig sees modern cosmology as supportive of theism.¹

    Even some prominent atheists have acknowledged that science and faith are not inherently at war. The late paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould — a committed atheist — famously proposed the principle of “Non-Overlapping Magisteria” (NOMA). He argued that science and religion occupy entirely separate domains: science deals with empirical facts and natural processes, while religion addresses questions of meaning, morality, and ultimate purpose. Gould insisted there should be no conflict because the two magisteria do not overlap.²

    Atheists like MacFarlane often begin with the assumption “no supernatural cause is possible” and then act as if the data proves their starting point. That is not science — it is philosophical naturalism masquerading as neutrality. True science describes mechanisms and regularities; it does not dictate ultimate causes or rule out intelligent agency by fiat.

    As a Christian, I have no problem saying God initiated the universe, set its laws and initial conditions, and specially created life. I also have no problem accepting the Big Bang and an ancient cosmos. These are not in conflict. God is not threatened by good science, and good science is not threatened by the possibility of a Creator.

    The real tragedy is how many people on both sides have turned a false dichotomy into a tribal battle. Christians who demand young-earth literalism and atheists who treat any belief in God as anti-intellectual are equally guilty of intellectual laziness.

    Science and faith address different questions. Science asks “how?” Faith asks “why?” Both can coexist without one devouring the other.

    It’s time we stopped forcing them into conflict.


    Notes

    1. William Lane Craig, Reasonable Faith: Christian Truth and Apologetics, 3rd ed. (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2008), 111–156. See also William Lane Craig, “God and the Big Bang,” lecture, University of Hong Kong, October 2018.
    2. Stephen Jay Gould, “Nonoverlapping Magisteria,” Natural History 106 (March 1997): 16–22.
  • Why I Left, Part Two – And Why I’m Taking an Extended Break

    I’ve been away from writing for a while. Life has thrown several major changes at me since November, and I’ve needed time to recharge—new hobbies, long walks, home improvement projects, and just breathing. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking.

    In being this honest, I’ve likely torpedoed any future chance of being hired at a church or teaching at a Christian college. That’s okay. I’ve taken my Sundays back. I’m relaxing in God’s creation, spending real time with my wife and kids, watching NASCAR, or doing whatever I want. I’m even considering starting a simple home church someday, but I’m not rushing into anything.

    I haven’t left the church forever. I’m just taking a long, intentional break.

    What follows will probably make some people angry or cost me a few friendships. That’s fine. With how I’ve chosen to spend my time now, it’s their loss, not mine.

    Here are some hard truths I’ve observed after years on staff (youth pastor, worship team, ordained elder, etc.):

    1. Stop telling people “I’ll pray for you.” It’s performative, and most people know it. It’s usually a quick way to end a conversation without actually doing anything. I stopped saying it a long time ago. If someone is on my heart, I reach out with encouragement or let them know I’ve already prayed.
    2. If you actually mean it, pray right then. I’ve only ever seen one person consistently do this without needing an audience—my friend Allen.
    3. James was right. If you see someone in need and simply say “be well” or “I’ll pray for you” without lifting a finger, your faith is useless (James 2). When my Muslim neighbor’s son had a wheel fall off his car, I didn’t offer empty words. I confirmed what was needed, bought the parts, and spent a couple hours fixing it. That’s what love in action looks like.
    4. The church has largely lost the art of real friendship. Too many “church friendships” are transactional. You’re friends as long as you’re useful—serving, attending, supporting the vision. Once you step back, the relationship often fades. In contrast, many of my secular friends have been far more consistent, honest, and loyal.
    5. There’s no drama like church drama. The pettiness, cliques, and over-the-top reactions to minor things I’ve witnessed are honestly bizarre.
    6. Leadership gossips. A LOT. Often more than the average person in the pews. I’ve heard leaders absolutely tear into people (especially those who left) behind their backs. It’s embarrassing.
    7. I’ve worked in the corporate world my entire adult life, and I’ve never seen the level of sabotage and favoritism I’ve seen in the church. Insecure people trying to dim someone else’s light to make their own look brighter is rampant—and it’s deeply disappointing.
    8. The church preaches “love” and “come as you are,” but only if you come as they expect. We loudly proclaim grace and unconditional love, yet the moment someone steps out of line—asking hard questions, challenging leadership, or struggling with same-sex attraction—the welcome mat gets yanked away. Jesus said “come as you are,” but the church too often adds “…but get your act together first.”
    9. Too many pastors are obsessed with church size rather than effectiveness. “Nickels and noses” drives too much decision-making. The world was changed by twelve scared-then-emboldened people. One preacher (I think it was Charles Moody but can’t remember for sure) discipled twelve people a year, who then each discipled twelve more. Within five years the impact was massive. It’s not “build my church.” It should be “build the Kingdom.” Bragging about an “online campus” with three viewers while ignoring real discipleship is missing the point.
    10. The church congratulates itself way too much. “We served 14 people dinner this year!” gets treated like a major victory. Who really cares? Did anyone grow spiritually, or are we just showing off? If it’s the latter, we’re spitting in Jesus’ face—our only reward is getting to brag about it.

    This isn’t true of every single person, but it’s well over fifty percent in my experience. The American church has drifted far from what Christ intended. We’re more worried about entertainment, smoke machines, ear-tickling sermons, beautiful buildings, and national politics than we are about Kingdom work. Meanwhile, the church in places like China grows rapidly in secret house gatherings, much like the early disciples.

    If this offends you, good. Maybe it will stir something in you to help be the change.

    I plan to write more regularly again. Some posts will be lighter. Some will be heavier. All of them will be honest.

  • Why I Left (and Where I Go From Here)

    It’s been quite a while since I last posted. I haven’t abandoned the blog, but I stepped away to get some things clear in my mind. A lot has happened.

    First, as I shared in my last post, my position at my employer of eight years was eliminated. That came as a complete shock, and I’m still processing it. In the aftermath, I also learned that some people I considered friends spoke about me in ways that were unkind. Gossip has a way of doing damage, whether intended or not. It’s unfortunate when people elevate themselves by diminishing others—especially those who aspire to leadership. A true leader lifts the people around them.

    I also resigned from Redemption City Church in December. To be fair, I wasn’t serving in any meaningful capacity at that point. I stepped away from the worship team in 2024 and resigned as youth pastor in spring 2025 after being told I would be used more in a teaching role. That did not happen.

    This isn’t a gripe post. It’s an effort to clear the air for those who still follow along.

    From 2012 through 2021, I was in continuous schooling—earning an AA, BA, and MA from Ohio Christian University, followed by an MA(TS) from Nazarene Theological Seminary. I completed the Church of the Nazarene Course of Study for ordination, along with the required service. I served as youth pastor beginning around 2016–2017, was on the worship team from 2011 through 2024, and built a career in insurance while pursuing a CPCU designation.

    I was ordained in 2022, and for a time things seemed positive. But after we moved out of our shared building, my role became increasingly unclear—until it effectively disappeared. Youth attendance dropped from more than twenty per class to just a handful. A major factor was the lack of consistent support and participation needed to sustain it.

    My resignation as youth pastor was formally accepted in March 2025. I was again told I would have more teaching opportunities—more than once a year. That did not materialize.

    Over time, repeated unfulfilled commitments took their toll. After a while, that wears on anyone. I reached a point where I had had enough and chose to step away entirely. My last Sunday ended early after an interaction with someone in authority that I found deeply unkind. I left that day and have not returned.

    Plans for a send-off fell through. My wife, who served as Compassionate Ministries director, was informed that a board meeting she had scheduled was canceled because “numerous people” had told the pastor she was leaving. The issue was simple: she had told no one that—she had planned to stay. At that point, only I (and our youngest) had decided to leave. My youngest expressed it this way: “They treat me like an employee, not someone who belongs here.”

    Given all of that, we declined any kind of send-off.

    I do have concerns and criticisms, but I’m not convinced this is the right time to fully share them. What I will say is that I did not feel heard, even when I made intentional efforts to communicate. I had a direct conversation with our pastor outlining reasonable requests: to teach at least once per quarter, to serve as primary substitute as previously discussed, to be used in teaching more than once every year or two, and to publish this blog as part of that effort. I had also been told I would write a newsletter.

    None of those things happened. Instead, I was told that taking notes during sermons should be viewed as a significant opportunity.

    At some point I made a decision I never expected: I resigned my credentials.

    This was not a loss of faith. I remain as committed as ever. But in that environment, the credentials felt functionally meaningless. I did not feel respected, valued, or utilized in a way that reflected the investment made.

    For context, I was never under church discipline, nor was I given any indication—despite asking—that I had done something wrong. I was also the only other ordained elder in regular attendance. That reality made the disconnect even harder to understand.

    Am I bitter? A little, yes. I think that’s honest. But more than anything, I have very little tolerance left for inconsistency, lack of communication, favoritism, and broken commitments.

    My faith remains intact. My willingness to engage in environments where those patterns persist does not.

    I plan to return to writing here more regularly, starting tomorrow.

  • Godly Friendships

    I don’t need a pocket full of gravel if I have a few gems.

    I wrote this as encouragement to a former coworker the other day while expressing gratitude for her friendship. Even I’m surprised that I can occasionally be poetic—as this just came from my fingers to my phone while texting.

    If we pause to think about this, we often find ourselves collecting something—anything—including “friends.” I use quotes because we have to realize that not everybody we are seemingly friendly with is actually a friend. Most of us probably think, “Yeah, that’s common sense,” even as we collect them as tokens via Facebook or other social platforms, still referring to them as friends. Probably much less rude than saying, “This guy I know, Joe,” but honestly, not terribly realistic.

    Humans are social creatures, to be sure, though we all need solitude as well—even the most outgoing of extroverts. I tend to be very outgoing, but I find myself becoming increasingly guarded. I’m not a cynic, I don’t think—but I’m finding that I resonate more with stoicism these days.

    Tracy Lawrence recorded a song called “Find Out Who Your Friends Are” (written by Casey Beathard and Ed Hill¹) in which he expresses a truth we all recognize:

    “Everybody wants to slap your back Wants to shake your hand When you’re up on top of that mountain But let one of those rocks give way Then you slide back down Look up and see who’s around then… This ain’t where the road comes to an end This ain’t where the bandwagon stops This is just one of those times when A lot of folks jump off.”

    We’ve all experienced it, and the number-one place it happens is often work. I’ve started to categorize these folks as “work friends.” Maybe this is obvious to everyone else and I’m just learning, but I’m pretty outgoing. I even joked with a friend (ironically, a true friend I met at work) that I’m about to be: “Wife, child, child, orange cat, cat with thumbs, clingy female cat, and to heck with everybody else.”

    Why?

    On November 3, 2025—just a couple of days before my birthday—I was called into an unexpected meeting and informed that my role was eliminated. I was about 90% surprised, given some of the reorganizations that had already been happening, but I had assumed my specialized licenses would protect me.

    I was wrong.

    I was simply told, “You’re done. Here’s HR, severance information, get off our network, goodbye.”

    I get it—corporations, even those that talk about being compassionate and caring, are cold-blooded. I have opinions on all of this, but I will keep them to myself for several reasons, as they are very uncharitable.

    I sat for a few moments to gather my thoughts, told my wife, and then texted a couple of people I thought were on my side. Then I sat on my couch in disbelief. I had believed I was at the company I was going to retire from, in a role I was good at, with solid support. This was not to be, and that’s fine—I won’t lie and say I hold no ill will, as I am puzzled why I was selected. Those who remained simply are not qualified—literally—to do my job.

    Please note: I was almost immediately offered three positions at three different places and was hired very quickly. I chose to stay away from work until December 1 to reset, to make sure I didn’t carry forward any bitterness. The only downside is that my body had become accustomed to, “I’ll get up whenever I darn well please, thank you,” so waking up for my first day at the new company was a bit of a struggle. While I actually took the lowest offer, which was a substantial cut from my previous role, I should end up earning more overall.

    I initially heard from nearly everybody I reached out to. Then reality slapped me in the face—they stopped. Not all, but the ones I thought were my closest allies, including one who claimed I was their best friend.

    I know the usual excuse: “It’s awkward.” I reached out and said, “I’m the same dope I was at 2 this afternoon (the meeting was at 2:15), no reason to be weird.” Several didn’t respond—somewhat surprising.

    Even worse, the majority of these folks claimed to be my biggest supporters… and worse still: “Christians.”

    I’ve long since realized that those who make it a point to talk “Jesus this” and “God that” in a work context are often disingenuous—especially when it’s clear that their faith is performative. The most verbal abuse I ever got from customers often came from emails like ILoveJesus@God.com or PastorJimmy@FirstChurchofKindleCounty.net. I wish I were kidding, but I am not.

    Look, I wasn’t the company pastor, and none of these folks were my congregation. If they’d said, “You suck, hail Cthulu,” it wouldn’t have bothered me. But sadly, performative faith is real. As Craig Groeschel said in The Christian Atheist, people love to talk about how spiritual they are when they find out they’re with clergy, yet give clear indications that they do not truly know Jesus.²

    In my case, it showed in attitude and behavior—only treating me kindly if they needed something, bragging about nightly inebriation, and so on.

    But the worst were the liars—and I’m not talking about spiritual things, but provable lies about others. All the while, they smiled in your face… meaning they were almost certainly bashing you behind your back.

    The “best friend” did this to me, and while I cannot prove it, I’m confident it was a primary reason I was selected for elimination. (Note: I am taking steps to ensure accountability. I have zero interest in returning to the company, but if there isn’t any accountability, who knows who else might be damaged?)

    I won’t go into too many details, other than to say a letter was received and it seems I was accused of being its sender—and I was called “irate” in a meeting when no such thing occurred. The problem is this is the epitome of “he said, she said,” and since no investigation was completed, their word was taken as truth. (Please note: I rarely lose my temper, and when I do, it’s likely because WVU is playing poorly because, you know, reasons.)

    I do have a point to all of this, and it may sound like a pitch for stoicism: when I was injured at the U.S. Air Force Academy, I learned that nobody has your best interests at heart except YOU. This isn’t strictly true—my wife, children, parents, in-laws, and our collective grandparents do—but work folks? Not a chance. And this shouldn’t surprise anyone.

    Want to know who knows this best? Yeah…Christ.

    I am not saying this is identical to my situation, but consider the track of Jesus’ relationships:

    1. Jesus fed thousands with a few loaves and fish . He had thousands wanting to see and hear Him.
    2. That number diminished to hundreds when things got difficult (see the aftermath of the Transfiguration and the hard teachings, e.g., John 6:60–66).
    3. Then there were twelve—His original apostles .
    4. Then three in the Garden of Gethsemane .
    5. And only one—John—at the foot of the cross .

    Top of the mountain? People will want to be with you. But when it gets hard? Not a chance.

    So, while I write this partly for catharsis, I caution you as a man of faith to protect yourself: yes, we serve, love (agape), teach, and reach out. Just don’t pretend that everyone you contact is your friend. And this is biblical—you must be willing to brush the dust off and leave .

    Remember:

    • Proverbs 13:20: “Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.”
    • 1 Thessalonians 5:11: “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.”
    • Galatians 6:9: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

    Choose your companions wisely, guard your heart, and continue to walk in faith. True friends—those grounded in Christ—are gems worth holding onto.


    ¹ “Find Out Who Your Friends Are” – Words and music by Casey Beathard and Ed Hill, © 2006 (Sony/ATV Music Publishing). ² Craig Groeschel, The Christian Atheist: Believing in God but Living as If He Doesn’t Exist (Zondervan, 2010).