We’ve watched news stories of Honduran families making the treacherous journey toward our southern border.
So today, I have only two questions.

First question: What makes those families take such a risk?

Why do they trek thousands of miles through harsh weather, rough terrain and threats of violence? Why do they risk arrest or even worse—rape, robbery, human trafficking or being separated from their children?

In the aftermath of the Dixie Fire, the largest single wildfire ever recorded in California, I am curious how chaplains aid in the physical and spiritual recovery of victims.

I meet my pastor, Mike Bivins, in the church parking lot at 6 a.m., and we head into the heart of the disaster zone for a strategy meeting with local pastors, hosted by Greenville Southern Baptist Church.

Bivins directs volunteers from California’s Southern Baptist Convention Disaster Relief Ministries. On the four-hour commute, he assures me that the group goes only where it’s invited.

A long, long time ago in a land called Waco, I began my freshman year at Baylor University inside the dilapidated off-campus housing reserved for penny-pinchers.

Fortunately, the Student Affairs Office mismatched me with two seniors, Tommy and Ken. Both were top of their class. Tommy was a ministerial student already pastoring a church. Ken was co-pilot for the university plane, flying every weekend to help recruit Baylor sports talent.

They both graciously offered their guiding wisdom. In return, I gave them the If-ever-I-can-do-anything-for-you speech. The upperclassmen laughed

Today’s media can seem like a name-blame-shame game with its frequent demands to have someone’s head on a platter, at least in a figurative way.

The language is not new. It recalls the literal beheading of John the Baptist in Mark 6:14–29.

If it’s been a minute since you read the passage, John was Jesus’ cousin. He was also a prophet who publicly condemned King Herod for the despot’s illegal marriage to his brother’s wife.

As I prepared for my first speaking engagements in our new post-pandemic environment, I was ready for an unpleasant question: “Why is church attendance declining?”

Last month in this space, I raised this question myself and shared a Gallup poll tracing the decline of America’s church membership by a whopping 23 percent through the last two decades.

So, what should a church do?

One recent Sunday morning, my wife and I pulled up to a stoplight near our home and spotted our neighbors alongside us. We exchanged the requisite fun faces of surprise before the green light signaled our Subarus to resume highway speed.

For the next 10 minutes, we passed each other back and forth along a 10-mile, four-lane highway in the foothills. Coincidently, we both turned off at the next stoplight.

“It would be fun if they were joining us this morning,” I said to my wife.