Monthly Archives: June 2025

The Throne of Your Heart

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It’s been several weeks since the “No Kings” protests. However, I just saw an online advertisement this morning for “No Kings 2.0” scheduled for the Fourth of July. I did some checking around, and it seems this is only a rumor.

My daughter, Madeline, told me the group gathered in Fenton a few weeks ago for their first attempt. There were people there with signs and slogans. In Lansing, they gathered on the Capitol’s steps. I didn’t pay it much attention at the time, which is probably another reason why I’m only now offering commentary. I have plenty to keep me busy these days. And besides, the whole thing felt like just another performance of the usual twisted pageantry. I remember seeing an image of a sign from the Lansing event that displayed the slogan “86-47,” which is the not-so-subtle numerical code calling for the 47th president’s removal by any means necessary, including death. In other cities across America, people wearing all black and face coverings gathered in public places and spray-painted the “No Kings Here” mantra on historic monuments, essentially defacing memorials actually put into place as emblems against tyranny. That’s ironic, isn’t it? Still, the groups marched and chanted like voodoo shamans performing their dark rites and ceremonies.

If you’re not familiar with the relatively fizzled No Kings movement, as I already hinted, the essence is pretty predictable. Like most everything that bubbles up from the progressive left, it was just another resistance to President Trump. With this particular effort, they framed him as a self-coronated dictator. The organizers aimed to present the movement as a spontaneous, grassroots uprising, as though everyday Americans were uniting against what they claimed was an unprecedented crackdown on illegal immigration.

But in truth, it was and remains more of the same: a theater of outrage designed to imply that Americans are universally appalled by the dismantling of the so-called “woke” infrastructure—that we’re incensed President Trump refuses to pander during “Pride Month,” which LGBTQ, Inc. has claimed not merely as a season, but as a sovereign domain over the entirety of June itself.

In the end, it’s a familiar pattern. These are the same voices that rage not so much at what Trump does as that he remains entirely unmoved by their contempt. He doesn’t flinch. He simply continues forward undeterred and, perhaps most offensively to them, unbothered.

For the record, and as the saying goes, I voted for this.

Beyond these things, what I find most interesting is that while the protests wanted to appear organic, the entire operation was orchestrated and paid for by ideologically captured groups, nearly all of which are connected to George Soros.

Now, some will read that sentence I just typed out and say, “Uh-oh, Thoma is becoming a conspiracy theorist.” But I’m not. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned Soros’ name in anything I’ve ever written. What’s the difference here? Well, the receipts are in. The documented funders of the “No Kings” protests included groups such as Indivisible, the ACLU, MoveOn.org, 50501, and various teacher unions and organized labor federations, all of which had received their funding for the effort from Soros’ Open Society Foundations. That’s not a conspiracy. That’s basic bookkeeping.

Setting the ledgers aside for a moment, while mindful of the effort’s truest geist, the irony of the No Kings protests—beyond the faux-revolutionary aesthetic and its TikTok theology—is that they presume to cast down the idea of kingship while fully prostrating before their own tyrants. They say they will not bow, and yet, they’re already on their knees in so many ways.

They slather praise on transgender activism as it tyrannically jackboots through female locker rooms and right into women’s sports. They still wear masks in their cars while declaring the unvaccinated to be “anti-science.” Their costumes are rainbow t-shirts that say, “Love is love,” while they do all they can to cancel anyone who would claim marriage is for one man and one woman. They converge on businesses, first emerging from vehicles with a “Coexist” bumper sticker ironically surrounded by other stickers with crass anti-conservative slogans. Then they march into the business offices wearing their government DEI badges, insisting that racism can only be quelled by applying more racism.

The authority they wield doesn’t come from thrones or castles but from 501(c)(3) and 501(c)(4) corporations. Their language isn’t regal, but it is rehearsed. Catchphrases have become decrees, and school boards have become their courts. And their reigns are no less absolute than the supposed tyrants they say they want to depose. Except, unlike the kings of old, they demand far more than taxes and loyalty. They want your mind. They require your memory and morals. They absolutely demand your children. And just try taking a public stand against their mandates. Try dissenting, even politely. You’ll discover how quickly the No Kings crowd finds its enforcement arm. In fact, I realized this firsthand in a place where I thought I’d be relatively safe from it.

This past Friday, during the convention of the English District of the LCMS, a lay delegate approached me during the morning break. His two-fold goal? To announce his pride in the Democrat Party and to accost me for my public opinions on abortion and LGBTQ issues. Think about that for a second. I was sitting alone at a triennial gathering for supposedly biblically minded clergy and laymen. This individual—a representative of a sister congregation sent to embody and, if possible, move the District according to its theological positions—sought me out of his own volition to assault biblical positions. Scary. Although the gathering onlookers (who did and said nothing, by the way) enjoyed quite the intermission at my expense.

Before I stray too far, I guess what I’m saying is that the No Kings folks are not really trying to rid the world of tyrants. Tyrannical ideologies already enslave them, and as such, they more or less prove they’re okay with kings, especially the ones who sanctify their sins. The ones willing to call their rebellion by name must be overthrown. In that sense, they don’t want freedom, at least, not like they’re saying. They’re after dominion. And I suppose in the most ironic twist of all, they cry “No kings!” while building a congregation of progressives, one formed by the gospel of “self” and served by priests in rainbow vestments intent on leading all of us in the new liturgy of control.

That’s not just cultural irony. It’s a theological tragedy. And that’s really the crux of it. As Christians, we know this isn’t just about politics or public policy. In the end, it’s not even about power. It’s about divine things.

God’s Word insists that every human heart has a throne, and every throne demands a king. If Christ is not seated there, someone else—or something else—will be. This isn’t conjecture. It’s reality. Saint Paul wrote, “You are slaves of the one whom you obey—either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness” (Romans 6:16). In other words, you will serve a master. Your heart will be devoted. You will bend the knee. This is because the heart is not some morally neutral chamber of vague intentions. It is, as the Bible says, the seat of human desire and its fruit. That’s why Solomon wrote, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (Proverbs 4:23). What fills the heart rules the life.

Interestingly, this principle doesn’t apply only to individuals. It seems to apply to entire societies. Indeed, every group has its creed. Every society bows before something. “They [entire generations of people] exchanged the truth about God for a lie,” Paul writes, “and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Romans 1:25). But Paul doesn’t stop there. He later warns in 1 Corinthians 10:20–21 that our devotion never exists in a neutral zone. It is aimed either toward the divine or toward the demonic. There is no third option. There is no spiritual vacuum.

And so, to come back around to the No Kings crowd. They spray-paint their slogans in defiance, but they’re not really free. Sure, they declare autonomy, but it’s an illusion, if only because autonomy requires clarity of thought and freedom of conscience—neither of which survives long under the tyranny of hatred. Their obsession with Donald Trump—regardless of what he does—isn’t principled resistance. It’s programmed allegiance. And in that sense, they are not without a king. Their hatred has become their monarch and lord. It governs their emotions, their actions, and even their sense of righteousness. But hatred is a brutal master. It blesses confusion, punishes dissent, and demands unquestioning loyalty. So, no, their chants aren’t declarations of liberty. They’re the sound of spiritual captivity—liturgies offered to the ever-hungrier lords of the age.

As for me, I will not bow to these new kings making jumbled decrees from their cathedrals draped in “self.” Instead, I’ll bow to the One who wore a crown of thorns. I’ll do this while steering into our nation’s Fourth of July celebration with incredible thankfulness for the Founding Fathers and their extraordinary courage. Indeed, I am blessed to be an American. That said, I intend to love this nation, not as an idol, but as a gift worth serving and supporting, most especially as one forged in the understanding that true liberty means responsibility before God, not license to rebel against Him. I intend to be a citizen who remembers that even a constitutional republic can fall if its people forget that true freedom requires virtue, and virtue only endures when rooted in Christ.

So, to the No Kings folks, if you do decide to attempt a 2.0 effort, go ahead and do it if you must. March and chant and graffiti your slogans across the faces of the dead, doing so well-funded and furious as ever. But do not pretend you have no king. You do. The only question is who—or what—occupies your throne (Matthew 16:15).

Role Reversal

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If you haven’t already heard, the U.S. military used our country’s infamous bunker-buster bombs yesterday to take out Iran’s nuclear sites. Whether one agrees with the decision or not, it’s a sobering reminder: the world our children are navigating is growing more perilous by the hour. That said, when I woke up this morning, I had already intended to write about a significant role reversal I experienced last week. I’m going to stay the course, yet I can already sense how this morning’s news will impact it.

Essentially, my daughter, Madeline, recently earned her private pilot’s license. As a Father’s Day gift, she took me on an hour-long flight. We departed from Bishop International Airport in Flint, flew to a small airstrip in Linden, landed and launched twice, and then returned to Flint. On approach into Flint, she performed a maneuver called a “slip.” I looked it up and found the following definition to be exactly as I experienced:

“A slip is an aeronautical maneuver that involves banking the aircraft into the wind and using opposite rudder to maintain a desired flight path while increasing descent rate or correcting for wind drift.”

In plain terms, Madeline banked us left, and yet, we didn’t turn. We slid sideways while descending rapidly. Just above the runway, she finally straightened the plane, leveled us out, and touched down as if we were angels gently descending from heaven.

She was amazing.

Now, I started by saying I experienced a significant role reversal. To frame all of this in the proper perspective, it really wasn’t all that long ago that Madeline’s life was in my hands in every way imaginable. Indeed, it’s as if only recently, I was tucking her into a car seat and securing the five-point harness, even adjusting the straps to fit her comfortably while ensuring maximum safety. I was the one who checked twice—sometimes three times—that every latch was secure, every buckle snug, because that’s what a father does to keep his child safe. He does things like hold her hand in public. He hovers behind her on staircases that she is still too small to climb. He steadies the handlebars on her first bike ride, jogging alongside her down the sidewalk, ready to catch her when she tips. Everything about her very existence—the entirety of her well-being—is entrusted to him.

But last Sunday—Father’s Day, no less—somewhere just beneath the clouds, the roles reversed, and I found my life was entirely in my daughter’s hands. I climbed into the copilot’s seat and fastened the belt, which she then refastened because I hadn’t done it correctly. She proceeded to adjust it accordingly. And then she was the one now glancing over the vehicle’s every dial, confirming each setting, running her hand along the controls, reciting the pre-flight checklist items with unbroken concentration. I did nothing. She captained the headset, talked with the towers, and guided me through what to expect.

I guess what I’m saying is that the magnitude of that transfer wasn’t lost on me. It was exhilarating, yes, but also profoundly humbling.

Still beaming a couple of days after the flight, while Madeline and I were driving together, I told her again how proud I was of her. I mentioned a quote that had resurfaced in my mind as we flew—something from C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves. He wrote so profoundly, “To love at all is to be vulnerable.” I explained how placing my life in her hands had revealed something. It wasn’t just that I trusted her. It was more about the depth of love I have for her, the kind that knows just how much she loves me, too.

I’ve known Lewis’ words for a long time. I’ve reflected on them in the context of marriage, friendship, pastoral ministry, and countless other situations where love demands a certain measure of risk. But I’d never thought to apply them to my kids until now. And yet, there they were, soaring right beside us at 2,000 feet on Father’s Day.

I’m usually pretty good with words. But this morning, I’m feeling somewhat limited. The English language doesn’t really have the capacity for genuinely communicating the moment your parental life shifts from giving care to receiving it—from being the one at the controls, both literally and metaphorically, and then, in an instant, letting go of the illusion that I would always be the one doing the work to keep my child safe. That kind of vulnerability doesn’t come easily, especially for a dad. But it is, I think, a place where, if we’re looking through the lens of the Gospel, God shows us just how complete love can be in a family.

I suppose something else comes to mind in all of this, too.

I would imagine that most Christians are familiar with the text of Proverbs 22:6, which reads, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Most folks see that verse in terms of instruction in moral grounding and right living. That’s not wrong. But it misses the heart of the verse.

Its primary aim is that we would raise our children in the “way,” namely, faith so that when they do climb into the cockpit of life, so to speak, they do so not only with competence but with wings outstretched for trust in Christ. In that sense, Proverbs 22:6 reminds us that even as our children’s hands might reach to ours for learning character, skills, and such, it is far more critical that they know to reach for the Lord’s hand in all things. Only then can they truly navigate both the clear skies and the storms with spiritual wisdom and poise. Only in Christ will they know how to take off, how to “slip” when necessary, and how to land with grace.

Anyone considering these things honestly will recognize something more.

Without question, the world my children are navigating is by no means the same one I inherited. Long before the latest news about Iran, the skies they were flying in were already far more turbulent. The voices buzzing through the coms are more confusing, almost unintelligible. The instrument panel in front of them, while more advanced, is almost entirely calibrated by a secular age that denies God’s existence altogether, calling His Word foolishness and insisting that truth itself should be wholly despised.

My point is that the role of Christian parenting cannot be passive in any of this. It cannot be content merely with getting one’s kid into a good college so that they are materially successful. All of that ends when they breathe their last. As I’ve often said from the pulpit, this world and everything in it carries an expiration date. You may not see it, but it’s there. That said, we are not just raising children to exist and survive among temporal things. We are raising them, as Luther said, “to believe, to live, to pray, to suffer, and to die” (LW, Vol. 47, pp. 52-53), which, by default, means we’re raising them to exist in this world with eternal things in mind. We’re raising them to stand, to speak, and to boldly hold the line when others around them are folding. We’re raising them to do these things, not with arrogance, but with conviction formed by the eternal Word of God.

That’s why Proverbs 22:6 matters so deeply. Indeed, to “train up a child in the way he should go” means to help position them for good character and success. But the “way” it mentions is not abstract. It is the cruciform road that leads through repentance and faith in Jesus. When we train our children in this way, we’re grounding them in the very mind and heart of God.

And they need this grounding. They’re already being told that truth is subjective and that steadfast Christian conviction is cruelty. Worst of all, the surrounding world insists that biblical godliness is an artifact of a bygone era. They are surrounded by cultural winds that do not merely blow—they howl. If they are to fly straight—if they are to correct for this world’s drift—they will need spiritual discernment. They will need courage calibrated by sound doctrine and faithful practice. They will need to be taught to see everything in this world through the lens of who they are in Jesus.

In a sense, the time has already come for me to realize that my kids are now flying and I’m not. If you haven’t yet arrived at the same realization, then just know that you’ll be there soon enough. The time is coming when your little ones’ hands will be on the controls, and your hands will be folded in prayer.

That time comes sooner than we think. Parents, the preparation begins now.

When the choice is between faithfulness to Christ and the world’s distractions, choose faithfulness, even when the child doesn’t want to. Lead the way. Even as they might kick and scream to get free from the car seat, strap them in and set out. Do this not only because you’re teaching them how to fly but why to fly. Do this, remembering your children will one day be at the controls, and they’ll be faced with circumstances you never imagined.

Still, when this happens, you’ll be okay, even if things appear to be going south. You’ll be confident that you did everything possible to keep them connected to Christ. You’ll be able to hope that, when it matters most, they’ll know to lean not on the wisdom of this world but on the One who will never steer them wrong. Even better, you’ll know that even though you’re not in the cockpit, Christ is, and regardless of what anyone’s bumper sticker might say, He’s no copilot.

Slipping Into Error

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I’m sure you already know this, and yet, just in case you don’t, Israel launched preemptive strikes against Iran’s nuclear sites on Thursday. As expected, Iran responded. It was reported in the news that we knew those strikes were coming, even as America was attempting to broker a peace deal with Iran. However, Iran appeared to be doing what Iran always does, which is to make every excuse for not securing peace. Meanwhile, Israeli and American intelligence agencies reported that Iran was only days away from having enough enriched uranium to build a minimum of fifteen nuclear weapons, only one of which would be needed to turn Israel to glass. Used against the United States, millions here would die.

Is any of this news reporting accurate? Is the media telling us what’s true? It’s hard to tell these days.

On one hand, Iran’s supreme leader, Ali Hosseini Khamenei, has said they would pursue nuclear independence. He also said as recently as 2023 that “Death to America is not just a slogan. It is our policy.” And of course, Iran—the largest state sponsor of terrorism in the world—has made it a priority to rid the world of the Jews. That’s not breaking news. That’s an open and longstanding fact. What’s more, Iran’s desire for Israel’s destruction, some have said, is the only truly unifying principle that keeps the nation together. A largely tribal nation, Iran would likely come entirely undone if not for its leaders’ radical Islamic ideology.

On the other hand, nearly everything the news reported about COVID turned out to be false. Masks and social distancing absolutely did not accomplish anything, except to decelerate development in generations of children. It turns out that ventilators made the sick worse. Ivermectin, the Nobel Prize-winning medication prescribed to humans for decades, was negatively labeled a “horse dewormer” and called dangerous, ultimately getting doctors who knew better and prescribed it into heaps of trouble. And yet, it turned out to be wholly sufficient for treating the illness. If a person added vitamin D to his regimen, he would be good to go. Conversely, most news outlets insisted that the vaccine would protect from infection. They streamed Biden’s thank-you to the vaccinated while warning the unvaccinated to expect “a winter of severe illness and death.” And yet, the opposite was true. In fact, the rates of unexpected deaths have seen a sharp increase only among the vaccinated.

I read an article this morning from CBS News saying that the FDA is insisting Pfizer and Moderna “expand the warning labels on their COVID-19 vaccines about the risk of a possible heart injury side effect linked to the mRNA shots, primarily in teen boys and young men.” It goes on to talk about unusual spikes in myocarditis. A peripheral article warned of the same, but then added strange cancers and other diseases to the list of concerns, conditions that were never as prominent until after the COVID vaccines and boosters were so widely administered. One particular example shared was that sudden athlete deaths were off the charts by comparison to pre-COVID statistics.

By the way, I should say I’m not surprised by the vaccine results. Dr. Mary Talley Bowden was recently on Joe Rogan’s podcast, and she mentioned that we now have five years of data stacks confirming the vaccine’s dangers. She essentially noted that anyone who received the vaccine is now, in a sense, permanently rewired—because what the news called a vaccine isn’t a vaccine. It’s an mRNA injection. It’s gene therapy. Gene therapy rewrites DNA. Vaccines, in theory, are designed to prompt and arm the body’s immune system. Gene therapy is designed to manipulate the body’s very DNA. It works at a genetic level.

Still, the public’s response to COVID proved how quickly fear and misinformation can bend entire societies—even churches—toward error. I say this as so many churches, even after the lockdowns, continued to forbid worshippers through the door unless they were masked, vaccinated, and sat two rows apart. This is an absolute violation of God’s Word, regardless of the government’s mandates! The same patterns are playing out again, just under different headlines.

However, I didn’t start writing this morning with COVID-19 on my mind. I was more concerned about the possibility of war. More precisely, I was thinking about how easily things come undone—or how easily human beings can steer into falsehood—when our handling of source material is faulty.

Concerning everything I’ve described so far? I suppose the only answer I can give is to say, “Read, read, and read some more.” As Christians, I encourage you to do this, remembering three things in particular.

First, understand that skimming content is rarely helpful. Dig in and digest, reading from various sources in order to get a topic’s fullest spectrum of perspectives. Second, pitch everything you read against the Word of God. In other words, let everything you take in pass through the filter of Scripture. God’s Word shapes our opinions, not the other way around. Third, make sure your doctrine is sound. Doctrine doesn’t just articulate what we believe about salvation. It provides necessary boundaries, becoming a primary tool for discerning everything we see and experience. If you claim the Bible, and yet your theology depends on the modern nation of Israel going to war with Iran as a fulfillment of end-times prophecy before Christ can return, then it’s likely the first two recommendations weren’t heeded. In other words, first, you aren’t all that familiar with the Bible’s actual contents; and second, your opinion has become your strongest filter. As a result, your doctrinal compass is misaligned, and you’re destined only to distort the source material—the Bible.

Now, I say this as someone who’s spent a lot of time wrestling with how theology and the public square intersect, particularly through the lens of Church and State, or the doctrine of the Two Kingdoms. What we believe about God’s rule and our role in the world carries consequences, both for faithfulness and for clarity during incredibly confusing times.

Be aware that confusion has a way of hardening into error.

You may have already noticed from what I wrote earlier about Israel and end-times prophecy that one particular distortion in times like these is Christian Zionism. It’s a theological framework that merges biblical language with modern political expectations, often assigning messianic significance to the nation of Israel. This confusion leads many to misapply sacred titles and divine promises in ways that seem patriotic or spiritually inspiring, but ultimately are biblically reckless and incredibly dangerous.

For example, Israel’s current offensive has been dubbed “Operation Rising Lion.” An online friend posted on Saturday an image of a lion with an Israeli flag blended into its face. The tagline read, “The Lion of Judah has risen.” The image made me cringe. Yes, I support the nation of Israel’s right to protect itself from annihilation. Still, the nation of Israel is not the Lion of Judah. The phrase “Lion of Judah” belongs to Jesus Christ alone (Revelation 5:5). Furthermore, it was posted by someone who assumes the modern nation of Israel still carries an unbroken divine mandate, simply by virtue of its geography or ethnicity.

To believe and confess this is to upend the fuller testimony of Scripture. It replaces Christ-centered fulfillment with nationalistic nostalgia and, in doing so, distorts God’s promises and perpetuates grave theological error.

This kind of misreading reflects the same pattern I’ve addressed already. Whether it’s Iran’s deception or the media’s COVID narratives, when we abandon faithfulness to God’s Word, we can only lose our bearings in life’s fog. Reality becomes distorted, and we are just as vulnerable to being swept away by falsehood as anyone else.

Of course, whenever someone challenges the notion that modern Israel holds a unique divine status, the charge of antisemitism isn’t far behind. Even as someone who supports Israel’s right to defend itself, I’ve borne that charge. But the accusation misses the mark entirely. I’ve written before that it is by no means antisemitic to say (alongside Saint Paul, the inspired writer and chief apostolic interpreter of Christ and the Old Testament Scriptures) that Christians are the “Israel of God” (Galatians 6:16). The Israel of God is not ethnic or a localized nation. Saint Peter clarifies it is “a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession…” (1 Peter 2:9–10). And again, Saint Paul writes, “If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise” (Galatians 3:29); and “For not all who are descended from Israel are Israel. Nor because they are his descendants are they all Abraham’s children… it is the children of the promise who are regarded as Abraham’s offspring” (Romans 9:6–8).

Children of the promise—Christians—are regarded by God as Abraham’s true offspring. Like Abraham, they believe in the promise (Genesis 15:6; Romans 4:3; James 2:23). And what is the promise? The One who was promised—Christ (Galatians 3:16; Luke 1:54–55; Luke 1:31–33; Acts 2:29–31; Hebrews 8:6–13; Romans 15:8–9; 2 Corinthians 1:20; and countless other texts). All who look to Christ in faith will be saved (John 6:38–40) and brought into the new Jerusalem—eternal life (Revelation 21–22; Psalm 46:4–5; Isaiah 65:17–19; and others).

To say that only believers in Christ are saved and given eternal life is not antisemitic, but it is fundamental to Christian theology, and it does show Christian Zionism’s error. If it were antisemitic, then the apostles were antisemites for believing and declaring, “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). What’s more, Christ Himself would be an antisemite for saying in absolutist terms, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6); and, “Whoever believes in [God’s Son] is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son” (John 3:16–18).

It is right and godly to defend and protect anyone and everyone from persecution or attack. Long before the events of this past week, Iran and its proxies had launched over 500 ballistic missiles into Israel. Christians should support restraining Iran. To do so is to love one’s neighbor as oneself. But that doesn’t change the fact that Christian Zionism is a dangerously confused theology—a dreadfully miscalibrated doctrine—that must be avoided, if only because it corrupts the Gospel that can save everyone in both Israel and Iran.

I suppose in the end, my main point is to say that if Christians are not vigilant—biblically, and therefore doctrinally—we will find ourselves swept along by narratives that feel righteous but stand in contradiction to God’s revealed truth. Whether it’s the media rewriting science or Christians assigning eternal significance to things that do not deserve it, the temptation to trade discernment for ideological capture is only ever a step away.

This is why being in God’s Word is so important. I encourage you: make it a part of your everyday routine. And as I said, don’t skim. Even better, don’t search the Scriptures just to find proof texts that reinforce your existing political views or cultural assumptions. Instead, go there to be corrected, shaped, and grounded. Go there for truth. Go there to find Christ. He is enough, and His Word is sufficient. And the Church—His true Israel—must live and speak as though both of those things are actually true.

Forming Character

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If you have a moment, I have an early morning observation to share.

Sometime last week, a conversation erupted in an online forum for families associated with our local school district. Essentially, a collection drive was orchestrated, and for those elementary students who participated and ultimately reached a particular goal, a celebratory activity would be their reward. The original post was from a woman bothered that her child was excluded from the activity. Did she and her child participate in the collection drive? No. And yet, her problem was that while the kids who did participate had their fun, the students who didn’t were kept busy off to the side doing something else, but still within view of the other kids. This mother felt it was inappropriate to keep any of the children from enjoying the activity, especially when all the children could see it happening.

I don’t know how you feel about this, but I have at least two observations I’d like to offer. And I won’t lie to you. They feel somewhat contradictory. Still, give them a chance. I think you’ll see that the two thoughts, while seemingly in tension, actually point to the same underlying concern that many of us have, which, in the end, boils down to the formation of character. In other words, both revolve around the same question: What kind of people are we trying to raise?

I’ll start with the more contentious of the two, just to get it out of the way.

The first is that it’s troubling we feel the need to entice children with rewards in order to prompt benevolent behavior. It may seem harmless to offer a small celebration for those who participate. And yet, beneath this is the subtle and unfortunate lesson that doing good is only worth our time if there’s something in it for us. In other words, when generosity is trained to function as a transaction, it ceases to be true generosity. Children begin to associate helping others not with compassion or responsibility but with the personal perks that follow. That kind of moral formation may produce momentary results, but over time, it undermines the deeper virtues we hope to cultivate. True goodness, if it is to mean anything at all, should stand even when no one is looking—and especially when no one is offering a reward.

Personally, if I were to rule the world, I would not allow these types of activities in schools at all. Instead, I would build rhythms of service into the classroom life—moments where students are invited to help not for a prize but because someone needs help. I would normalize the idea that compassion is part of being a decent human being, not a means to an end. Rather than gamifying kindness, I would frame it as a basic responsibility, just as we expect students to clean up after themselves or treat their peers with respect. When we treat generosity as performative, kids internalize the notion that doing good is about being seen. But when we treat generosity as expected and ordinary, kids begin to understand it as part of who they’re meant to be.

Again, I won’t lie to you. On occasion, we organize activities in our Christian school, such as the one described above. And yet, for the most part, I think we lean far more into the former frame of mind than the latter. Interestingly, our incoming Kantor made such a comment this past week. While visiting among the students, he said he experienced a spirit of genuine care and concern for one another that he’d never experienced among students anywhere else. That, of course, made me smile.

The second point I wanted to make is much easier, and it steers directly into the woman’s concern, which was that everyone deserves the reward, regardless of whether or not they earned it.

I say, probably like many of you, not everyone deserves a trophy. I know that sentiment has become somewhat cliché in our cultural discourse, but in this case, it’s deeply relevant. If a student didn’t participate in the effort, regardless of the reason, then it stands to follow that he wouldn’t be included in the celebration meant to recognize those who did. Those were the parameters, and the school families were well aware of them in advance. To bend the rules or to insist otherwise is to flatten the meaning of both achievement and reward. It cheapens the accomplishment of the children who gave their time and energy while simultaneously reinforcing the idea that effort is optional and that outcomes should be distributed equally, regardless of the input.

This isn’t just about collection drives or school events. It’s about a broader cultural confusion between fairness and sameness. Fairness involves recognizing and rewarding effort, commitment, and virtue. Sameness, on the other hand, insists that everyone be treated identically, even when their choices and behaviors differ. When sameness becomes the goal, excellence is discouraged, and mediocrity becomes the norm. Worse still, it breeds resentment, resulting in anti-achievement. Children who do what’s right may begin to ask why they should bother if the rewards are the same for everyone.

In short, if we want to raise children with integrity, we can’t afford to teach them according to the first point, which is that virtue is transactional. But neither can we teach them according to the second point, which is that one’s effort is irrelevant.

I suppose in the end, as with all things, the Bible weighs in on this discussion, coming to rest in character’s domain, which is a land that prizes humility, integrity, charity, good order, and so many other godly traits. And by the way, they’re not negotiable characteristics, but rather, they are essential for society’s stability and flourishing.

Concerning the first point, I don’t have to go far to hear straight from the God-man’s mouth that when we give, we should not do so “as the hypocrites do… to be honored by others,” but instead secretly (Matthew 6:1-4). This behavior is a fruit of faith, one that already understands it isn’t meant to be paraded or purchased—it’s meant to be lived for its own sake. If it can be an open reflection of God’s goodness at work in us for the sake of encouraging faith in others, then so be it (Matthew 5:13-16; Ephesians 2:8-10). God will work that result. In the meantime, we understand the first concern regarding these things. When we train our children to do good only for what they can gain, we inadvertently lead them into works-righteousness and away from the heart of Christ, who gave freely and called us to the same.

God’s Word also affirms the principle of just reward. In Galatians 6:7, Paul writes, “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap.” This isn’t about merit in the salvific sense—grace remains unearned—but it does speak clearly to how the world is meant to function when aligned with God’s order. Labor deserves its wage (1 Timothy 5:18). Diligence bears fruit (Proverbs 13:4; Proverbs 10:4; Galatians 6:9). Obedience and discipline are not to be dismissed as elitist virtues but as marks of maturity and wisdom (Hebrews 12:11; Proverbs 12:1; John 14:23). When we ignore those distinctions, when we give everyone the same outcome regardless of participation or effort, we cultivate confusion and ultimately injustice (Proverbs 17:15; Romans 2:6; Luke 19:17).

That’s why both points, while perhaps initially sounding as though they are at odds, are really part of the same conversation. We’re called to raise children who are generous without self-interest and responsible without entitlement. That’s no small task in today’s world. When I look around and see the popularity of celebrating self over sacrifice, and I see online celebrities being applauded, even though they’ve accomplished nothing, I worry that the next generation is learning to give little and expect much.

I know it seems like heavy lifting. Nevertheless, it’s worth the effort to push back on this, if only because the world our children have (in a sense) already inherited desperately needs help. But not the kind of help this culture is willing to provide. That kind of help is no help at all. Instead, it needs help from hearts aligned with Christ and anchored in genuine truth.

Summer Belongs to June

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Welcome to June. It’s a little chilly. Nevertheless, it’s here.

Ever since I was a kid, summer always belonged to June. The poet, William Carlos Williams, scribbled, “In summer, the song sings itself.” Every kid knows he was right. When June came, that meant life’s doors were opening to easier days—summer days.

As a kid growing up in central Illinois, in the twilight hours, after we’d become bored with jumping ramps, climbing trees, playing hotbox, or anything else we felt like doing, we’d throw golf balls into the air to attract the bats. After an hour of watching them swoop and flitter and spin in this and that direction, and feeling like pitchers in our eighth inning, we’d head inside to watch whichever movie might be playing on whatever tunable station we could manage in our cableless house.

As an adult, the summer doesn’t necessarily promise me the same freedoms. Still, when June arrives, it seems the world starts loosening its collar. The daylight stretches further. Togetherness on the front porch or back deck lasts longer. Solitude’s silence hums with a kind of warmth that winter could never understand. Time itself seems to wander around barefoot.

Summer doesn’t ask for permission. It simply arrives and reminds us to live—that staying inside isn’t the only possibility. We can go outside, too.

A few weeks ago, I sat in a video conference with a publisher. I’ve been sitting on a handful of chapters for a children’s fantasy novel for more years than I can count. Only recently did a wind of inspiration hit me. In truth, it was my grandson’s birth. Inhaling the event’s freshness, I’ve been exhaling newness to the story. Contextually, I’d already been chatting with the publisher about crafting a religious liberty book, which I more or less completed last night. But this conversation was about the children’s book. Just for fun, I sent along the first six chapters, and with that, interest was sparked, and ultimately, encouragement to move forward followed.

Contextually, I began writing the story as a means to help my son, Joshua, navigate the challenging waters of my full-time seminary training. He was four years old when I began what would be three long years of commuting to and from Fort Wayne, Indiana. I would drive down on Sunday night and return to Michigan on Friday night. Meanwhile, even as a full-time student, I would also maintain my full-time Director of Christian Education (DCE) duties here at Our Savior, doing what I could to manage long-distance responsibilities, while also holding regular office hours and participating in activities on weekends.

To prevent the loss of Josh’s childhood along the way, we started writing a story together. The routine was fairly simple. Before I left on Sunday night, we’d sit together to talk about the story. In between classes and paper-writing that week, I’d add to the story based on what we talked about. When I returned the following Friday, not only was he happy to see me, but he also wasn’t dreading my Sunday departure because he knew I wouldn’t share the new material with him until just before leaving. And once again, after reading what I’d crafted, we’d talk about what should happen next, and then I’d go back to Fort Wayne and repeat the process.

In a sense, I share all of this, reminded of something I just read last night from George R.R. Martin. He wrote, “Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.” Again, that’s what I was guarding against when I began writing the story in the first place. It was a dreadfully taxing experience, one I’d never recommend anyone else try. Once it started, I didn’t want Joshua to get lost in the mess. With that, while the story endeavor was a relatively simple exchange, it became something sacred between us—a way to hold things in place; a way to let the summer of our togetherness linger just a little longer.

I managed quite a bit of text before the effort no longer seemed necessary. He adjusted, and we found other ways to manage the distance while growing closer, not apart.

Joshua is 25 years old now. His childhood has ended. All is well. Strangely, not long after Preston’s birth, I happened to glance at the story, and I remembered that its primary character, quite literally based on my son (even bearing his name) is the story’s narrator. He is recounting the tale for someone. The reader doesn’t yet know who it is. Something tells me it’s Joshua as a father visiting with his son. My gut tells me that son is Preston.

“Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.” True. Seasons come and go. But within those seasons, there are seeds of things that continue. The story I began for a little boy served its purpose. And yet, it appears to have waited patiently, like a half-built treehouse in the backyard. Now another little boy has arrived—new to the world, unaware of what stories await him—and suddenly, I hear the hammering again. Interestingly, I feel the warmth of June, and I know what I’ll be doing in my free time this summer. In fact, I created a writing schedule that carries me into July. If I stay on track, I’ll be done before the summer’s end. I really want to finish what began for Joshua, but now, too, for Preston.

Yes, time passes. But just like summer, stories have a way of returning, full of promise and life. King Solomon said it best: “To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven… He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man’s heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,11).

Childhood, like summer, may come to an end. But the God who governs all seasons is unchanging. In the same way that He weaves beauty into the warmth of June, He plants joyful opportunity among times of potential heartache. We don’t always see it. However, we can know it. Indeed, He interlaces incredible beauty into each of these moments, whether summer-like or winter-like. He reminds us that the seasons are His to orchestrate, and we can trust Him. The faithful God who gives us June, who gives us childhood, who gives us time and story and memory, He cares year-round (Psalm 124:1). And besides, just as Solomon said, He’s already sown eternity in our hearts. That’s a wink at faith—a glance toward the Gospel fact that something happened (the death and resurrection of Jesus), has been sown in us, and remains in full bloom, no matter the season.

I could sit here and continue to unpack this wonder, but I need to wrap up. In the meantime, just know that for believers, the seemingly fleeting beauty of summer and the tender brevity of childhood aren’t really lost to time, not when you have Jesus. With Jesus, nothing truly good ever slips away. Instead, it is preserved, perfected, and restored in ways we can hardly imagine.

And so, welcome to June. Summer is just beginning. Yes, it will eventually end. But the better story of God’s faithfulness is forever being told.