My wife Kristi and I have been foster parents for almost one year now. Trust me, I know how crazy this is to most people. We already had four biological boys of our own. But we didn’t feel like our family was done, even though it was done biologically (trust me, I had the surgery). So, last July we began praying for a bigger van. We simply outgrew the normal minivan. A minivan could no longer hold our love.

Last week, we pick up our new 12 passenger van. And just in time, too.

I can’t give a lot of details, but our world has became a lot more chaotic. In fact, it’s a beautiful madhouse. Late last week, we received a call asking if we could take three more foster kids. We said yes. So, we went from 5 kids (our 4 sons and Baby G, who we’ve fostered for almost a year now) to 8 kids in our home. It helps that the other kids are Baby G’s biological siblings, but It doesn’t help as much when 8 kids are fighting, fussing, whining, pottying (on a potty or in diapers) or falling asleep at the most inopportune of times.

We never set out to become a big family. But then again, we never opposed being a big family. That much should be obvious with four biological sons of our own. But there’s something unexplainable about foster parenting. Someone recently told us that as you begin to love the kids God places with you, your heart expands to love each additional child for the season they are with you. That is very true. But it’s hard. In fact, sometimes it sucks. Our house is loud. It can get messy and lots of things break. We sweep/mop/vacuum/wash dishes/load laundry/fold laundry/put away laundry/wipe privates, change diapers, wipe mouths, tables and floors, etc., multiple times a day. Every day. And, in addition to the normal household chores that any children bring with them, foster children often bring problems of their own with them (though the problems are most often not their fault) and these kids are no exception. But then again, biological children are not always a walk in the park either. This type of life requires sacrifice.

But then again, it always takes sacrifice to love others, doesn’t it? And this has led me to lots of thought and prayer lately.

I am passionate about foster care and adoption. We have four biological children of our own and then decided our family wasn’t complete. But I know people that aren’t called by God to be foster parents. And that’s OK. I am under no illusion that you are called to be a foster parent, especially of multiple children. And I’m OK with that.

Just don’t tell me how crazy I am for opening my home. I already know that. I can’t even go to Target without getting stares and comments. Even in the heart of Suburbia, large families are not the norm. I understand that you may not be called to open up your home. But I have to ask: how has God called you to sacrifice? Even though I may not know personally, I can guarantee you that God has called us to more than a comfortable American life where we put our church sticker on our car and call it good.

How has God called you to sacrifice? How has God called you to embrace and enter the suffering of the world He loved enough to send Himself/His Son to die for? Just like I believe that ”Not Every Local Church Is For Every Person,” I believe that not every Christian is called to sacrifice in the same way. But all Christians are called to sacrifice. Something.

This may seem self-evident to you, but the way Christians treat one another says to me that we don’t believe this. I am weary of Christians believing that because we’re not all called to sacrifice in the same that we’re not all loved by our Father in the same way. While most of us would never be so blunt as to word it that way, this is exactly how we treat one another. The ones who passionately sacrifice on behalf of those caught in sex trafficking/slavery sometimes look down on those who aren’t called to serve in the same way. The people giving their lives to the homeless want others to share that passion. Those fighting abortion passionately ask “Where. Is. The. Church?” Those, like me, who open up their homes for kids with no home wish that more Christians would do the same.

But instead of celebrating and encouraging and equipping the beautifully different ways Christians can and do impact our culture, we cast dispersions at those who aren’t called to serve like us.

Now, I’m going to be brutally honest; if you claim to follow Jesus and you’re not living sacrificially in some way, I urge you to repent. I’m not sure you can truly belong to God’s family and live for yourself. However, that’s really not the group I’ve been thinking/praying about.

I am far too quick to dismiss those who are not like me. But at the same time, I tire of people that are just like me. After all, “variety is the spice of life,” right? What kind of world would it be if we all liked the same music or movies or food? I am deeply concerned that we are creating non-necessary dividing lines within the big freak-show tent of Christianity. I am far too quick to think that if you’re not called to serve in the same way that I am, then you’re not called by God at all. And that’s just nonsense. We don’t all like the same music. And that’s awesome. We don’t all like the same movies and I thank God that I’ve never had to sit through Titanic or Avatar (the 3D thing, not the animated series) even though I can appreciate that those may be your thing.

Why do we all take for granted that our passion (trafficking, abortion, homelessness, poverty in all its forms, health, water, children, hospitals, literacy, etc., etc., etc., etc.,) is the only passion? If that were the case, we might make a large dent in one issue without making any dent in others and making little to no impact on the big picture. Why are we so quick to elevate our own passions while diminishing others (hint, I think it’s because, even in serving, we are arrogant)?

This whole journey has reminded me that God’s people are nothing more than a beautiful circus of crazies and freaks. Instead of judging one another for not serving in the same way, why aren’t we one another’s best cheerleaders? Instead of looking down on each other for not serving in the same way, why aren’t we reaching back to grab the hands of those who aren’t yet serving at all? Instead of believing that our focus is pitch-perfect, why aren’t we all listening to the beautiful symphony of God’s will to reconcile all things to Himself through the Son while we try to find our part in the orchestra?

If the world will know that we belong to Jesus because of our love for one another (John 13:35), I wonder what our false judgment of one another tells those who are paying any attention?

Our church family is considering 1 Peter together on Sunday mornings. This past week, we began chapter two and considered verses 1-3, where Peter says:

So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander. Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.

As I was thinking and praying over these verses last week, I was struck by the fact that the way we read and apply these verses are probably not actually in line with Peter’s intention. That may or may not be OK.

When modern readers approach these words, the first thing we think is possibly that Peter is slighting his audience by comparing them to “newborn infants.” Many understand this to mean that Peter is telling his audience that they should be more mature than they are. But that doesn’t seem to be Peter’s point at all. “Like newborn infants” describes the way we should “long for the pure spiritual milk” rather than the audience.

What’s more, the command, the imperative section which actually opens this section: “put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander” is subordinate to the longing for “the pure spiritual milk.” In other words, our progress in putting away malice, deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander are directly proportionate to how we long to be spiritually nourished.

And that brings me to an interesting consideration. I have heard this section and ones like it applied along the following lines: “If you don’t read your Bible everyday, you don’t love Jesus.” Yet, as Scot McKnight points out in his NIVAC Commentary on 1 Peter:

“To think, however, of personal Bible study is anachronistic; these Christians did not have copies fo the Bible and had to rely on sermons and the local archives for such things. It makes best sense to see here the spiritual nourishment that comes to Christians in various ways. If my view fo the recipients of this letter is correct in that they were socially disenfranchised, then they were likely illiterate as well.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that just because the early Christians didn’t have Bibles, we shouldn’t read ours. We live in a day of unprecedented luxury when it comes to the availability Scripture. Many of us have multiple copies. What is interesting here is that we often view reading the Bible as an obligation rather than a luxury. The early Christians didn’t read it because they didn’t have it. What’s our excuse?

Something to think about is that we hear Peter’s admonition to “ long for the pure spiritual milk” “Like newborn infants” as a command to individuals to have “personal” Bible study. We maximize a meaning Peter probably did not intend while we minimize exactly what he did mean. McKnight suggests that Peter’s use of “pure spiritual milk:”

“refers to the very things that nourish the Christian community in its growth: knowledge of God, prayer, instruction in the gospel, faithful obedience, and hearing God’s preached word.”

Peter seems to assume community as the primary context for his admonitions while we assume individuality. We must understand that our individualistic mindset actually removes us from the blessings and challenges presented by much of Scripture. Peter wanted the community to crave spiritual nourishment so that they could put away the things of the old self together. We isolate ourselves and our struggles and then feel pressure to present a facade to the community. We are quick to believe that the Christians who know the most about God are the ones we should listen to. But these are not necessarily the same individuals who know God the best. Knowing that honey tastes sweet is not the same thing as tasting honey.

We must be careful of any approach to Scripture that reads it through an individualistic lens and understand that community is always the assumed context and the implication/application is rarely “just spend more time studying.” It’s telling that we so readily assume that our reading of Scripture is the intended meaning. Peter probably did not have personal Bible study in mind while we do. Peter probably assumed a community context for spiritual growth while we do not.

May we form communities that long to be nourished together so that, together, we can leave the old ways behind.

As a pastor and friend to people, I think a lot about the Christian Phrases that we use. In fact, I probably think about these phrases more than most people.

To be completely honest, I still struggle at living as a missional Christian. I an trying to make the shift so that more of my time is with those who don’t yet believe instead of those who do. But I’m not there yet. Which means that I currently find myself in a weird limbo. I still spend more of my time than not with Christians but I am spending enough time with those who don’t yet believe or those who recently have that I get bombarded with a very weird mix of questions and concerns.

A friend of mine who who has come to faith in Jesus recently forwarded me the attached picture with a question about the claims being made by the image and by Christians. During this time, I was also thinking a lot about the fact that the “Christian church” in America is losing its young at an alarming rate and the ideas of N.T. Wright on the “authority of Scripture” (here and here). Where is all of this going, you might wonder? And that’s a fine question indeed.

I wonder, if, at least part of the reason (and I’d venture to say, a good deal of the reason) we are seeing so many young people leave “the faith” (as they understand it to be) is because we have incorrectly taught them what it means that the Bible is ‘inerrant.” Wayne Grudem and others have taught that this idea means that:

The inerrancy or Scripture means that Scripture in the original manuscripts does not affirm any thing that is contrary to fact.

This seems reasonable enough, doesn’t it? The Bible, which Christians believe to be the recorded revelation of God Himself through His interactions with people as recorded by people under His direction, does not contradict fact. Of course, we have all kinds of problems with this idea, like who says what is fact and what isn’t, but for now, let’s focus on the inherent idea that many people have, which is that; if the Bible contains anything at all in it that doesn’t seem to jive with itself, then the whole thing ought to be thrown out.

Consider, for example, something that many people who want to disregard the whole Bible will point to?

Genesis 1:25-27: And God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the livestock according to their kinds, and everything that creeps on the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. ²⁶Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” ²⁷So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.

And then consider:

Genesis 2:18-20: Then the LORD God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.” ¹⁹Now out of the ground the LORD God had formed every beast of the field and every bird of the heavens and brought them to the man to see what he would call them. And whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. ²⁰The man gave names to all livestock and to the birds of the heavens and to every beast of the field. But for Adam there was not found a helper fit for him.

Clearly these accounts “contradict” one another. After all, in one, man is created after the animals and in the other, he is clearly crated before the other animals. This must mean that the entire Bible is false, because we have a historical contradiction here, right?! And this is exactly where I believe much of the difficulty has burrowed through the cracks of modern-day Christendom.

We have adopted the notion that since the Bible is true, then it must be interpreted as we interpret any other self-contained historical text. In other words, if Lincoln had contradicted himself in the Gettysburg Address, we would have reason to doubt the entire message. Or, perhaps more to the point, if an academic textbook gave differing accounts of a historical event, our modern audience would certainly complain that the editors did not whittle it down to an agreed-upon interpretation.

But what if more ancient audiences did not share our predilection for certainty?

What if you were the first reporter upon the scene of 9-11 and, as you began to squint through the rubble to interview the first people out of the madness you got a version of the story that said that the building collapsed before the second plane suicided into a building but then you got a version of the story that said that no building gave up until the second plane blitzed a building? Would you conclude that nothing ever happend? No plane ever hit any building because two accounts of the same story contradicted one another?

Or, as long as I’m pushing buttons, what about the young earth/literalist/usually Dispensationalist people?! There are a lot of Christians who openly preach that if you don’t interpret the “7 Days of Creation” literally then you might as well throw out the rest of the Bible because you don’t believe it. Really? Even though there is ample historical-critical-literary research to show that someone could believe in an Old-Earth and still believe the Bible? But I digress. My point is that we’ve raised a generation of people to believe that if someone present scientific evidence (and we can debate about what is evidence or what is not some other time) that the earth is probably older than just some thousands of years, then either that person is automatically wrong or the entire Bible is automatically wrong.

A story is not authoritative the same way a dictionary is authoritative. We look to one as a very detailed, literal resource. We look to the other as the interpretation of true events. Stories hold power over most people. We forget that, before writing, before printing, before blogging, “truth” was passed down through stories. They were coddled, protected, cared-for and preserved. It was a family honor to be entrusted with the preservation of the family story.

But if your brother also told the story and your two versions differed, no one believed thus that the entire story should be thrown out. They simply understood that, though the events are true, they are preserved in story form. However, somewhere along the Enlightenment Trail, we came to believe that science/fact/provability is the end-all be-all, so Christians naturally ran the Bible through this grid.

So, we have entire ministries devoted to proving the “literal” interpretation of the Bible that God may never have intended to be preserved in a “literal vs. non literal” manner. We have an entire generation believing that if someone, anywhere in the world can find something in the Bible that seems to “contradict” itself then the whole thing is false. But what if it was never meant to be read that way? What if we have turned the doctrine of inerrancy into a stumbling block it was never meant to be?

I have no problem believing in the miracles recorded in the Bible. I believe God created everything, therefore He certainly has power over what is “possible.” I have no hesitation believing the grand story of the Bible: A Holy, Loving, Perfect God who, though One is Three, existing in perfect community, decided to open up that community to a creature made in His image who chose to rebel against His provision, but He still pursued people by not only fulfilling the requirements upon them but the penalty of breaking those requirements so that someday, everything would be made right.

I am not flustered when I am presented by so-called contradictions in the Bible because I have been in enough counseling sessions to know that, even when you ask the same person to tell you the same story more than once, you will find discrepancies.

I worry that, in sincere attempts to “protect the faith,” many Christians have unwittingly set the next generation up for a tidal wave of rebellion because we have trained them to interpret a true story through the lens of scientific data. I am not a judge. But if I were, and I were to hear a case in which every recitation of the events sounded exactly the same, I would not believe anyone. However, if there were differences in story, even from the same teller, I would be more inclined to believe the whole, even if I was still left with some questions about specifics.

Stories can be authoritative. Just not the same way as scientific data. That doesn’t mean a story isn’t true, just that we understand it differently than we do a research project.

What do you think? Have we gone down a crooked path with the doctrine of inerrancy? Am I cookoo for Cocoa Puffs? How should we make the most sense of the most Scriptures?

One of the phrases we use in the Church of the Cross family (borrowed from Jeff Vanderstelt) is “gospel fluency.” The idea isn’t new, but it has been important in the spiritual growth and development of many in our church family.

You know you’ve become fluent in a language when you no longer have to stop and translate in your mind. The language becomes natural and normal. You think in that language. What might change in our lives, and in our churches if we were “fluent” in the Gospel, the good news of who Jesus is and what He has done. What if we learned to speak/apply the Gospel to one another’s lives “in and out of season” and in all situations? As a Pastor, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that 85-90% of the Pastoral Counseling I do would go away. It would already be taken care of. Our church family would say to one another the things that I’m going to say to them anyways.

I think this is at the heart of what Paul means in Ephesians 4 when he says that we should “speak the truth to one another in love (v.15).” I think that this “speaking the truth to one another in love” is the “work of the ministry” that the saints are to be equipped for; applying the Gospel to our own and one another’s lives, learning to filter everything through the lens of who Jesus is and what He has done.

The Gospel, of course, is more than just getting our souls into heaven when we die. It is even more than (certainly not less than, but also certainly more than) substitutionary atonement (also see here and here). The Christian life is about becoming more and more immersed in these truths, being drawn closer to Jesus, becoming more dependent on Him, learning to listen to and depend on the Spirit in all of life. As Tim Keller might word it, the Gospel changed our motivational structures; why we do the things we do. This change, of course, rarely comes overnight, but it does happen for believers.

This is a crucial thing for followers of Jesus to consider. Why should we say no to sin? Why should we fight temptation? Our initial reaction to temptation and sin is that we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t choose sin. And, while this is technically true, if I tell a child that they shouldn’t touch the touch . . . well, you know. But, we all know from failed diet attempts and tries at life-reform that the best way to fight temptation is not with rules. It’s not by forcing ourselves to believe that we simply shouldn’t do something. Even if that’s true.

The best way to fight temptation is with a greater pleasure. If you have something that gives you greater pleasure, you won’t give in to temptation, not because you shouldn’t but because you don’t need to. Truth be told; we don’t love Jesus as much as we like to say we do. I realize that sounds harsh. I realize that many of us are arguing that point; I love Jesus more than anything else! And while we want this sentiment to be true, our lack of allegiance to Him betrays the fact that there are still things we believe will give us more pleasure/fulfillment/identity/security than Jesus. But false gods will never fail to fail us.

The problem has been keenly pinpointed by C.S. Lewis in his 1949 essay “The Weight of Glory:”

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

The Gospel motivates us not with “shouldn’t” but “needn’t.” We no longer need to chase after the things we once did because we have found deeper, truer pleasure/fulfillment/identity/security.

In his book One Thing, Sam Storms recounts the story of Jason and the Island of the Sirens. At one point, Odysseus knows that he must pass the island of the sirens. So he instructs his crew to plug their ears and then chains himself to the mast. He wanted to hear the song for himself. Had it not been for the chains holding him in place, his heart would have chased the sirens’ beautiful destruction. For many of us, our fight against sin is nothing more than those chains. It doesn’t nothing about our heart’s affections, just our external behaviors.

Yet, Jason also had to pass the island of the sirens. However, he took a different approach. Jason hired Orpheus, who was known to play the lyre so beautifully that it dimmed everything else. Jason and his crew didn’t even hear the sirens. Both men may have technically “beaten” the sirens, but Odysseus fought with “shouldn’t” and Jason fought with “needn’t.”

I wonder how many of us, when faced with temptation to sin actually fight it by saying that we don’t need to do that, or primarily that we “shouldn’t?” Which has been more powerful in your own life?

Thank you everyone, for all your prayers and words of encouragement. It’s been a rough couple of days but we’re all home safe and sound, just with about a quarter of a toe less than we had in the family on Friday afternoon. If you’re unaware, my second son, Owen, lost part of his toe Friday evening (you can read about it here).

We were told that the surgery would be Saturday morning at 10:00am. around 9:35 or so, the nurses came in to get him and started wheeling him out of the room when another nurse came in and said: “STOP! We just got a call from the Operating Room.” All of the nurses filed out of the room for a couple of minutes and came back in saying: “We’re so sorry but his surgery has been re-scheduled for 7:00pm. But, hey, look on the bright side, he can have something to eat now.”

As parents, we were slightly perturbed. My cynical side thought something like: Oh sure, the surgeon’s tee-time was moved and now we’ve got to pay a ton more money to stay here that much longer and Owen’s already nervous and this just prolongs it!

So we passed the day in nervous waiting, playing iPad games, watching the Olympics and trying to focus on a sermon on the entire book of Leviticus. 7:00pm finally came and he went in to surgery. He was in surgery for about 15 minutes when the power went out and anxiety drowned my heart. As the generators immediately kicked on, I thought of something the surgeon told us as we met with him for the Pre-Op consultation. He said: “I’m so sorry you got rescheduled but we had a catastrophe in which a child lost an arm.” Oh man. I am such a jerk. I am (still) so sinful. I was angry. I was irritable. I was resentful. I didn’t believe the best. I didn’t hope the best (1 Corinthians 13). I didn’t cast my anxieties on Him (1 Peter 5:7).

Thinking about his words and the look of sorrow in that doctor’s face, repentance hit me like a ton of bricks as I listened to the hum of florescent lights. It put things into perspective. What we were going through disrupted our family and will be something we deal with in various ways for a while. But this little child lost an arm.

Moments of crisis, both large and small, are pivotal. They are spotlights on the soul. Prior to Friday, I had thought my soul was in a fairly good place. I was reading, I was praying, I was focusing on joy, humility and gratitude. But then I was reminded that, though I had been focusing on faith, it had been a while since I had truly repented. I had forgotten that faith and repentance always go hand in hand. I had focused on faith issues without searching my heart and walking in continual repentance.

Owen has already talked about how we can’t wait to forget this whole incident. We jokingly told him that every time he looks at his left foot, he’ll be reminded. He sighed and rolled his eyes. I understand why Owen might not wear flip flops for a while. But I want him to understand why, from now on, whenever I look at his one shorter toe, why I might get a little misty eyed, thinking of how God used a chopped-off toe to remind me of His pursuing love and unending grace.

I don’t normally use my blog to promote my sermons, but you might be interested in hearing the sermon I preached on what I learned from Owen’s Infamous Toe Incident. Listen here.

As a Christian, I live with one foot in eternity and one foot in the present (Ephesians 2:6, etc.). My position is secure(d). Not only that, I have an eye on the horizon because that day is coming when the trumpet will sound (Revelation 22). Though my feet tread through thorns and thistles, I know the day is coming when roses will no longer have thorns (maybe, maybe not, just bear with me here).

But let me be clear here. When I say that I have one foot in eternity and one foot in the present, that doesn’t mean that I’ve somehow checked out of this life or that this life doesn’t matter or that it’s somehow unimportant. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

I find this life flashing with glimpses of eternity. I’m constantly reminded that this world has worth. God said that it was very good (Genesis 1:31) and God tells me that I should be content (Philippians 4:11, Hebrews 13:5, etc.) in all things. Not just content, but thankful (Colossians 3:15). Every good gift comes from God (James 1:17) and I am continually and repeatedly reminded of not only how un-thank/grate-ful I am. I float through life as if I deserve. I deserve “more.” I deserve “better.” But in reality, every breath is a gift.

As a Christian, I believe that life is full of blessings that I either am unaware of or ignore. But life should be marked by gratitude. This should mark every moment with passion. Life should be marked by joy. Things will often not go the way I want. I will not always have a “win.” Life will often hurt. I will sometimes feel “afflicted in every way, (but not crushed) perplexed (but not driven to despair) (2 Corinthians 4:8).

Another way I’ve come to think about I almost hesitate in sharing because I myself find it kind of cheesy. Not like cheesy tasty puffs but chick-flick cheesy. What if we learned to live every moment like it were our last? Now, before you roll your eyes and say that I’ve gone all fluffy, think about it. What if not only eternity (as if that’s not enough) but death loomed at our doors (which it does)? What if you couldn’t count on another day? What if tomorrow didn’t come? What if you didn’t know when death would finally knock? Would you/I/we live any differently?

Would you enjoy that summer peach any more? Would you stop and soak in the sunset any longer? Would you sing along with the stereo in the car a bit louder? Would you try to resolve that argument or dig in a little deeper? Would you pray a little longer? Would you save a little more money? Would you hug someone a bit longer? Would you do the dishes any differently? Would you pull a little more joy out of that moment?

What if this moment was your last? Would you live any differently? What if eternity invaded the present with value worth celebrating?

Around 14 years or so ago, a friend of mine introduced me to the writings of Geerhardus Vos and the discipline loosely known as “biblical theology.” If you haven’t read Vos’ Inaugural address as Professor of Biblical Theology in Princeton Theological Seminary, from 1894: “The Idea of Biblical Theology as a Science and as a Theological Discipline,” I highly recommend doing so.

Biblical Theology, as outlined by Vos, Graeme Goldsworthy and others, is simply the tracing of God’s progressive self-revelation over the course of redemptive history, centering on the idea that Jesus is the true lens through which we understand all of Scripture. This approach ties us to the organic unity of Scripture and reinforces its inter-relatedness as an unfolding story. Each bit of revelation is dependent on what has come before and lays the groundwork for what comes next.

While biblical theology can sometimes trace the progression of somewhat technical theological ideas, the basic idea has gained widespread interest as the excitement about the idea of “story” continues to grow. Everyone loves a good story and the Bible contains the world’s greatest story.

A biblical theological approach to Scripture helps avoid a disjointed understanding of the Bible. At some point in growing up, I realized that I knew a lot of biblical stories without fully realizing how they all linked together or formed a cohesive whole.

This past weekend, I had the privilege of co-leading a great group of people through something called The Story-Formed Way. If you’re not familiar with this great resource, it’s a 10-week paraphrased, guided dialogue journey through the story of the Bible developed by Church of the Cross‘ family Soma Tacoma.

I’ve been able to lead this event numerous times and I see something new every time. It’s great watching people put the pieces together and see the big picture of a God who constantly pursues His people for His glory. It’s something that just about everyone can understand and just about everyone will also be challenged by. If you want a better idea of the big picture or if you know people who are curious about the Bible, I can’t recommend this resource highly enough.