It just so happens that my daily Bible reading this morning landed me in John 18.

If you know anything about the time of year I’m writing this and anything about the Gospel of John, you’ll know that that means that John 18 perfectly corresponds with the events we remember today (Maundy Thursday): the betrayal, arrest, and trial of Jesus Christ before his crucifixion the following morning. (Technically the term “Maundy” refers to the foot-washing event described in John 13, but all these things happened on the same day, so it is what it is.) That being said, I thought I’d share my reflections:

We don’t know much about Joseph.

Jesus’ dad, Joseph, that is. The earthly father of the Messiah. The one whose fiancé came up to him one day and said, “Hey, by the way, I’m pregnant. But don’t worry, I’m still a virgin.”

Joseph is probably one of the most significance characters in all of Scripture—God literally chose this man of all men to be the earthly up-bringer of His one and only Son—yet the information we have about him is fairly sparse: He was a descendant of King David and the son of a man named Jacob, and according to Matthew he was “a just man” (Mt 1:19a), a statement proven by the fact that he originally planned on merely divorcing Mary quietly when she announced her pregnancy despite the fact that virgin pregnancies are, by any natural means and purposes, physically impossible. Despite believing that his betrothed was blatantly lying to him, he was “unwilling to put her to shame” (Mt 1:19b), and such a righteous and kind man was he that he was simply going to separate from her without drawing any attention to her perceived iniquity. He could have had her punished in the courts of law for infidelity, but he had no interest in doing such a thing.

WARNING: This post is going to be quite a bit different from the type of things I usually post.

Late last night after finishing a Bible study, I received the following text from my aunt:

Hey David I saw this and all info wrong FYI

Attached to the message was a screenshot to this article from the Daily News, posted on May 11, 2020, the Monday following my father’s death (which occurred on Friday), presumably after his body was released from the Galveston County Medical Examiner. The article reads as follows:

I’ve had a lot of people asking what #FindTheStrawberries means, so I figured I’d explain.

I made a post about this before, but to be fair that was almost four years ago, so it’s about time I revisited the story since it has, since then, essentially become my catchphrase.

It all begins with a parable:

It was a Thursday night.

Thursday the 7th, to be exact. Thursday, May 7, 2020. I was sitting next to my father on the new reclining sofas he and my mom had purchased only a few months prior, trying my best to focus on a book while the TV played and he scrolled rigorously on his iPad, helping me search for good deals on cheap, used stand-up paddleboards. After having finished my final exam for the Spring semester, I had spent the rest of the day with my dad: We went to Academy (where he bought two fishing poles—one for me, one for him), ate dinner at Cheddar’s (he got to try their croissants for the first time), and then worked out together at Clear Lake Park. He had asked me to make him two grilled cheese sandwiches the way his mom (my grandma) used to make them—a request he had never asked of me before, but one to which I happily obliged—and now we were watching Patrick Swayze and his rag-tag team of guerrilla-fighting 30-year old high schoolers single-handedly defeat the Soviet Union in 1984’s Red Dawn. The movie had started while I was still in the shower after my run (I had run back home from the park), but he had rewound it so that I could see the whole thing. Me being my typical multi-tasking self, I was trying to read J.M Barrier’s classic Peter Pan while watching Red Dawn. The book was about a child who never had to grow up; the movie was about children who were forced to grow up in extreme circumstances.

Joy. It’s a funny word, isn’t it?

C.S. Lewis defined joy as “an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” My personal definition of joy is “grace accepted.” When my dad would get up and head out to work, he would always look at me, smile, and say, “Be sure to keep a smile on your face and don’t let anybody steal your joy.” I always loved that, and I even passed that phrase on to my junior high, high school, and college students, so that every time they leave one of my Bible studies, I will say, “Keep a smile on your face,” to which they will respond, “And don’t let anybody steal your joy.”

All my life, my dad reminded me to find joy in all circumstances. When things are going easy, find joy. When times get tough, find joy. In the wake of my dad’s passing, I’ve been left pondering about joy and trying to figure out what it really, truly is. In the nine days since my dad was unexpectedly and quickly taken from me, I’ve realized that I no longer have him to remind me to find joy. In the time when I need his reminder the most, my dad is no longer here to encourage me towards joyfulness. In the time when there is nothing I desire more than to hear him say that phrase again, I recognize that his voice will become fainter and fainter to my memory with each passing day. In time, I won’t even remember how he said it.

It is no secret that I'm not a huge fan of the song "Reckless Love." That's a soap box I could stand on for hours, defining terms and breaking down how we can't allow our preference for a catchy tune to allow us to embrace what is, at best, shaky theology. I could quote Scriptures and cite evidence after evidence demonstrating that God's love is anything but reckless, and I have done so to exhaustion many times in the past. (I have refrained from doing so on this website, mainly because people's defenses of the song are largely emotional in nature, and so I would prefer to have a face-to-face conversation with them.)

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of the song, but it wasn't until my father passed away last week that I truly began to process the practical ramifications of such shaky theology. Prior to last week, my opposition to calling God "reckless" was more so a result of zeal for correct doctrine and sober worship; now, however, my opposition is from the stance of someone whose present hope and present joy is rooted firmly in the fact that God is not reckless. If I am wrong, my hope, my joy, and my peace is built on a house of cards, and my faith is in vain.

On Friday, May 8, 2020, my dad and I were out on a bike ride. We were having a great time, enjoying the day and enjoying one another’s company, but the day ended in mourning: After a freak accident, my father died in my arms around 4:00pm. He died quickly, and thanks be to God I don’t think he ever even had the opportunity to realize what happened.

That being said, the past week has been a whirlwind. My father had always said that when he died, he wanted me to officiate his funeral; I had always assumed that I would have 20 more years to prepare, but as the Bible reminds us, we never know what tomorrow brings. On Thursday at 3:00pm, my best friend and I were enjoying a bike ride; an hour later, I held him in my arms, weeping over him, crying over him, singing over him; less than twenty-four hours later, I sat in a funeral home planning his funeral. Less than a week later, I stood before a crowd of hundreds of faithful friends and family who showed to pay respect to my father and celebrate his life.

How should a Christian interact with the world?

There are many books that could be written and have been written on this subject, but for today I want to somewhat briefly (although not too briefly) give a brief overview of my attempt at an answer to this question, motivated by an assignment I was working on this morning for one of my seminary classes. In order to do so, however, I want to introduce you to the three primary parties of Jews who were running around during the life and times of Jesus circa-first century AD. (The reason for this will soon be evident.)

The Pharisees. These, we can call the Scribes. They were the people’s people, primarily middle-class, who adhered to the entire Old Testament (Tanakh) and strived to live a holy life in their current society. They were the largest sect of the Jews, and are largely the spiritual fathers of modern Judaism.

The Sadducees. These, we can call the Priests. They were the upper-class, priestly sect of Jews, liberal in their mindset and more willing to sacrifice doctrine for the sake of embracing Gentile culture. They only adhered to the first five books of the Old Testament (Torah), and had become largely corrupted by their longing for political and socio-economic gain.

The Essenes. These, we can call the Monks. Out of disgust for both the Pharisees and Sadducees, they retreated into the desert to live a monastic lifestyle of religious piety and extreme devotion. In addition to the Old Testament, they adapted many more teachings, committing to strict dietary laws and a commitment to celibacy.

There is a deadly disease called Sin that has plagued the whole human race, having developed from a virus called Pride, which, when fully developed, leads to the fall, to destruction, and to death. Yet there is an antidote to Sin called Faith, and there is an antidote to Pride called Humility, which is administered like a painful shot from a long needle—painful and excruciating in the moment—yet builds the immune system against further spread of the deadly disease.

However, like a poor-tasting medicine, Humility is not very desirable to the taste buds of men, although it is good for him. In fact, man often fails to properly value vaccines whenever he underestimates the disease, so it is understandable that he doesn’t care much for Humility, since he doesn’t take Pride as seriously as he ought; he doesn’t value Faith because he doesn’t recognize the implications and the effects of Sin.

Everybody has their price.

How much would you be willing to pay to go on your dream vacation? How much money would you need to be paid in order to sell your current home? How much time are you willing to spend in order to attain that comfortable or luxurious life you always dreamed of as a child? How many pursuits are you willing to chase after in order to attain that blessed goal called “happiness”? How many friends would you be willing to give up in order to meet the love of your life? How much pain would you be willing to endure in order to make that love last? How many moral convictions are you willing to betray in order to get your hands on that one thing that you have always wanted…that one thing that has always been just slightly out of reach?

Everybody has their price….

I know I haven’t posted on here in a while.

That’s my bad. With the busy-ness of seminary and working at my church and leading Bible studies and trying to stay somewhat in-shape and socializing and trying to get at least a few hours of sleep a night, I haven’t had much extra time to be writing, and what free time I have had, I have spent researching for a series of videos I am preparing for my YouTube channel.

That being said, beginning this week, the fruits of that labor will hopefully begin to pour fourth. Starting today…..

It is essential to my argument that I begin today’s writing with a disclaimer:

** Before even beginning to address specific gender roles as they are outlined in the Bible – especially as it pertains to why God is consistently, throughout the biblical narrative, referred to with male pronouns – we must establish that we are discussing things from a strictly Christian perspective. It is easy to object to the biblical ideas of masculinity and femininity when considering the sinfulness of man and the oppression that submission might so easily espouse within power-hungry and demeaning individuals, but we must accept, going into the argument, that we are speaking from the ideal as established by God in His creation of man. In this, we must discuss matters such as submission, sacrifice, headship, and leadership not according to the negative connotations established by a prideful and lustful society, but rather according to the biblical standard to which we all must strive. When you give a man a gun, he may use it to either protect or to slay – we may guide him towards the former, but the option by which he uses it is up to him. All rules and roles in any governance or society stand the possibility of being abused; the Bible seeks to establish gender roles in a manner that is holy and set apart, glorifying to God for the betterment of mankind. A rational and concise conversation regarding such matters is impossible if we do not first establish a stable worldview which we can then extrapolate. Thus, for the purposes of this article, it is my request that we set aside secular ideologies and rather read the “He” of God the Father according to the Biblical context, that we might better understand Christian ideals and even more greatly come to grasp the beauty of God’s love towards us. **

I will begin my argument by stating this: God is spirit. Of course, He stepped into the flesh via the person of Jesus Christ and thus lived on the earth for approximately thirty-three and a half years as a Middle Eastern man, but from eternity past to eternity future God is, according to His divine nature, spirit. Thus, He is neither male nor female; however, the way in which God manifests Himself is masculine in nature, in that he designed man as an image meant to reflect Him. Therefore my thesis is that our use of the pronouns “He,” “Him,” “His,” etc. are essential in comprehending our own selves in relationship to God.

I had the pleasure of being part of Ted Dekker’s Launch Team for the second and final installment in his “Beyond the Circle” series, Rise of the Mystics, and as it finally hits bookshelves today – Tuesday, October 2, 2018 – I can finally post my review of it!

From David, a follower of the Way and a disciple of the one true King,

To those brothers and sisters in Christ for whom, by the grace of God, I was permitted to shepherd during our time in the Holy Land:

Grace, peace, and understanding unto you from God our Father, Christ His Son, and the Spirit that grants discernment, alive in us right here and right now.

I want to begin by first thanking the Lord for my every moment shared with you, from the first encounters as strangers to the reluctant farewells by which we departed only a short time later. It is by His grace alone that we were brought together, and if I have come to know the character of the Lord at all, it would be left understood that He is not one who wastes any of the time He has allotted. For this reason, I believe that our short time together was a period instituted by God, and through that time I hope we found ourselves capable of bringing Him glory upon glory, living from faith to faith, from hope to hope, from joy to joy. Yes, He gave us this time that our spirits might be enriched and uplifted and our faiths strengthened all the more, but even more so, He gave us this time that we might return the glory back unto Him who provided us with our every breath. To Him be the praise for granting us such an opportunity, and even if such an opportunity had been lost, let us praise Him still more!

ART AND BEAUTY – creation and attractiveness – are two entities that are as inseparably linked together as they are curious to the pining soul. One’s definition of art might differ from another’s just as easily as what they call beautiful might differ from their best friend’s definition. Nevertheless, despite cultural changes and despite stretches through millennia and despite various styles and products and mediums being passed throughout all history, art and beauty are indissolubly bound together, connected by the fact that art cannot be art without layers of beauty, and what is beautiful cannot be beautiful if it is not in some way artistic. They are two sides to the same coin, one the entity as described by the quality and the other the quality given expression through the entity. When you begin to interpret these two things in conjunction with one another, you arrive at the point of purpose, what some would call “meaning.”

59 dead. Over 500 injured. The deadliest mass shooting in modern US history.

This is the news that we all woke up to on Monday morning as a result of the tragic events that took place in Las Vegas on Sunday night. A 64-year old man made his way up to the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Bay hotel and sent a hailstorm raining down on innocent concert-goers for Lord knows what reason, and now we wake up and fall to our knees as we ask God a short but extremely important question: “Why?”

What does this mean for all of us? What does it mean for Christians as people begin to accuse our God of malevolence or claim that this incomprehensible evil is proof of His inexistence? How are we supposed to live faithfully in a world where evil runs rampant and we are striving to live like Noah in a world that’s unaware of the Flood that’s coming? How do we respond to this pain, this suffering, this tragedy? What cold we possibly do to cope with the outbreaks of hatred and violence in the world that surrounds us?

I love Texas A&M.

I really do. I’ll admit that when I made my first college visit to the sprawling campus my junior year of high school I wasn’t the biggest fan (I didn’t grow up in an Aggie family, so I didn’t have the prior bias), but each and every day I’ve been here, the place has grown on me. I flash my thumb, I sing my “Howdy,” I shout my “Whoop!” I now love the campus, I love the atmosphere, and I love the people.

I even like the football too.

The thing is, I’m not one of those Aggies. You know what I’m talking about, one of those towel-wavin’, yell-shoutin’, ring-dunkin’, maroon-wearin’, horse-laughin’, hardcore Aggie elites clad in nothing but maroon and white day and night, caring so much for all things Aggieland that if there was a course offered called Aggie Traditions, they would come out with a 12.0 GPA. Here at A&M we call those people “Red A**” (I censor this because sadly we are not talking in terms of donkeys), and I’m simply not one of those. I am what people at A&M would call a “2 Perecenter,” which the Wikipedia page for Aggie Terms (yes, that’s a thing) defines as “Aggies who choose not to participate in Texas A&M traditions.” This isn’t to say that I despise all the Aggie traditions or that I hate the school (which I’ve already clarified), but simply that I came to the school purely because it was a good school to go to, and for some reason have never been able to truly grasp the whole Aggie tradition thing.

How was I to know that love would be my own undoing?

Love for my town. Love for its people. Love for its safety. Love for a woman.

Love for Belle.

I had never been the most conventional of people. I was an adventurer by heart, desiring nothing but to take on the next greatest challenge while ensuring the safety of my poor, provincial town with its many citizens too oblivious to know the obvious threats of the surrounding French countryside, including wolves and beasts of all shapes and sizes. But I kept them safe, and what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them as long as I was on watch.