I appreciate flying—and I know it’s very safe, statistically—but still I’m not terribly comfortable with it. There’s just something unsettling about traveling more than 500 miles per hour, 35,000 feet in the air. While it’s extremely unlikely for an in-flight accident to occur, there are no “fender benders” in the sky, so I hate knowing that if something did happen, the result would almost certainly be horrific.

 

Having said that, I do fly occasionally and one thing I actually enjoy is traveling light. If I can fit everything in my carry-on and not check a bag, I have a much better time getting from point A to point B. I don’t have to wait in line for an agent to help me, all of my belongings are with me at all times, and I don’t have to go to the baggage carousel in my destination airport to wait for my luggage.

 

I wish I traveled light in my everyday life, when I’m not on an airplane. Instead, I give my baggage (burdens, fears, worries, concerns, etc.) to God and then I take it right back from Him. I let go and then I don’t let go. As much as I fail, though, I try to travel light because of what we read in Philippians chapter 4, verses 6-7:

 

 

God commands us not to be anxious. Why? Because He wants us to have peace, not anxiety, which is an overblown concern for the things of life, and a feeling that takes over when we rely on ourselves and don’t depend on God and His power. Stated differently, it’s letting go and then not letting go. But when we try to do God’s job for Him, painful anxiety is inevitable and we feel all alone because we’re depending only on ourselves through the difficulties and dangers of life.

 

Back to the subject I began with (flying), I’m reminded of a family that put their Grandma on an airplane for the first time in her life, but she was not confident about the experience of leaving the ground on “that contraption.” When they met her at the airport on her return, one of the family members jokingly asked, “Well, did the plane hold you up okay?” She reluctantly replied, “Well, yes,” but then quickly added, “But I never did put my full weight down on it!”

 

Many of us who follow Jesus are like that Grandma, at least in some situations. The truth is, we are sustained completely by God, but we’re afraid to put our full weight down on Him. As a result, we’re plagued by anxiety and unable to enjoy the flight. That’s the hardest part: Trusting God with everything, letting go, and not continuing to hold on to it. In other words, it’s putting our full weight down on God.

 

However, He has a pretty good idea what He’s doing. He doesn’t need our help or advice. That means we can give our baggage to God, stop worrying and stressing over it, and resist the temptation to carry that baggage in our own power. It also means that we trust Him with the results.

 

I can’t recall the author, but I remember an article where the person shared something along these lines: “I used to think that the phrase, Let go and let God, was about turning my troubles over to Him, and He would take care of things. The saying bothered me because there were many times I tried to pass Him the baton, and it fell with a clunk on the ground. I’ve finally begun to understand that the phrase means something different: Let go of the outcome you desire, and let God bring about His will. It’s so hard to let go, and it’s so awesome to let go.

 

Troy Burns

When I accepted a church staff position for the first time, at age 31, I left behind a full-time job—including the income and career path it provided. With an English degree and nearly six years of writing experience under my belt, I approached a crossroads in my life. I chose the road less traveled and saw everything change as I discovered what God had in store for me: serving young people in youth ministry. I’ve heard it said that everyone is called to ministry, but only some are called to the ministry. I found myself in the latter category, knowing I had to devote my life and “vocational” time to loving God and loving students.

 

Not everyone understood my decision to follow where God was leading. Many could not believe God was involved at all. Well-meaning friends and family members encouraged me to return to the business environment and “climb the corporate ladder” so I could “have it all.” As it turned out, I already did.

 

When I reflect on that major life transition more than 20 years ago, I recall some lyrics from the song, “Only a Fool” by the band, Geoff Moore and the Distance:

 

 

 

I became a fool, like Charlie in that song, and it was surely one of the wisest decisions I ever made. Nothing compares to a front row seat, watching God move in the hearts and minds of students who want more than what this world offers. It was my absolute honor and privilege to take a job only a fool would do.

 

I’ve since been “demoted” to the preaching ministry. I’m joking (somewhat), because working with teens was the best “job” I ever had. I’ll never be the same, in the best possible way. I feel like Dr. Archibald “Moonlight” Graham in the movie, Field of Dreams, when he considered his life’s work as a physician. As a young man, he badly wanted to succeed in professional baseball, but that wish never really came true. Instead, he discovered a different dream, his real dream: living and working as a doctor in a small town community. As much as he had sought after an illustrious sports career, there was simply no comparison to his passion for medicine and caring for the patients he loved. Dr. Graham said this to the film’s main character, Ray, about the office where he ran his practice: “This is my most special place in all the world, Ray. Once a place touches you like this, the wind never blows so cold again. You feel for it, like it was your child.”

 

When Ray suggested it was a tragedy for Dr. Graham to get so close to his baseball dream, to have it in hand for just five minutes, and then to let it slip away, the doctor responded by explaining, “If I’d only gotten to be a doctor for five minutes, now that would have been a tragedy.” Speaking for myself and the career I left, I thank God for the 13+ years He allowed me to serve in youth ministry. If I only had five minutes working with those teens, now that would have been a tragedy.

 

Troy Burns

Like many of you, I fill nearly every minute of the day with work responsibilities, meetings, appointments, deadlines, family time, and unexpected tasks for which I’ve not planned. Come to think of it, I might be the only one reading this because no one else has the time! Since practically all of my moments are spoken for, I struggle to stop without feeling like I should be doing something. But maybe the solution is to take the advice that was shared by one missionary: “Don’t just do something—stand there.”

 

Earlier this week, my regular time of Bible reading just so happened to take me to a familiar passage, the 23^rd Psalm. Verses 1-3a tell us, “The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside quiet waters; he refreshes my soul.” As I considered those words, one phrase jumped out to me, as though I’d read it for the first time: “He makes me lie down.” It’s almost as if God forces me to stop because it’s so important to Him that I rest.

 

I should not have been surprised by that. After all, we know from the Bible that God set a pattern from the beginning of creation: six days of work, followed by a day of rest, the Sabbath. As we read in Exodus chapter 20, verses 8-10a: “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work.”

 

Of course we’re not required to observe a strict Sabbath like they were in Old Testament times, but God makes it clear that we have six full days that are all generally the same, and then a seventh day that’s different. That day is full of rest and things that are not the same as other days. God forces us to stop, for our own good. He essentially says to us, “Don’t just do something—stand there.”

 

“Sabbath” comes from the Hebrew word “Shabbat,” which means to stop, to cease, to end, to rest. God did not create us to have all seven days the same. We are made very specifically to work and to do everything we need to do for six days, but one day, we say, “We’re done.” Our day of rest is so important to God that we should not only obey Him, we should also treat that day with as much respect as we show when we take the Lord’s Supper, when we pray, and when we worship. If we do this on a regular basis (hopefully weekly), we’ll discover what we always do, every time we listen to God: He has our very best in mind.

 

Troy Burns

I’m sitting on a chair at my desk, because I believe the chair will hold me up for as long as I sit in it. If I believed the chair was literally on its last legs and would collapse at some point, sending me quickly—and unexpectedly—to the ground, I would not be sitting here.

 

Earlier this morning, I took a quick break to run an errand for my lovely bride. I drove my car to complete that task, because I believed the car would get me safely to my destination. That faith, if you will, also involved a trust in other drivers, that they would travel in the correct lanes, stop at red lights, yield when required, etc. Had I believed that my car was not roadworthy, or that the other drivers were going to break traffic laws, I would not have driven my car.

 

A little over 30 years ago, I married the aforementioned lovely bride, because I believed we both meant the vows we made, when we promised to take one another from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I believed that each of us would love, honor, and cherish the other until death do we part. Had I believed that either of us (or both of us), did not really mean those vows, I would not have said, “I do.”

 

I live out what I believe, even if I’m just sitting at a desk or running an errand. I do likewise in the more important aspects of life, such as marriage and faith in God. My actions reveal my beliefs. I suspect the same is true for you. You see what I believe; I see what you believe. In the case of faith, if you believe that God is real, that the Bible is His Word, that He came to the earth in the person of Jesus, that He lived a perfect life, that He died on the cross to pay the penalty for your sins, and that He not only knows what’s best for you, but wants what’s best for you, then you do your best to obey Him and put your eternity in His hands. If you don’t believe those things, then you obey yourself or someone else. Stated simply, if your faith is in Jesus, you follow Him; if it’s not, you don’t.

 

Speaking for myself, I do believe in Jesus, so when life doesn’t make sense, I still follow. When I have trouble understanding something in the Bible, I still believe. When God tells me to do something I don’t want to do, I still strive to do it. When God tells me not to do something I want to do, I still do my best to avoid it. When I’m struggling and hurting and suffering, I turn to God, not away from Him. When doubts and questions shake me to the core of my soul, I still trust in Him. When life in this world seems utterly hopeless, I don’t give up. Why? Because, again, I believe that God is real, that He knows what’s best for me, and that He wants what’s best for me. His ways are better than mine and He always has something good in store for me, sooner or later (even if the “later” will happen in heaven).

 

And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. – Hebrews 11:6

 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. – Isaiah 55:8-9

 

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. – Romans 8:28

 

Troy Burns

My friend woke up with a splitting headache, so his mom (who’s a doctor), told him to take three ibuprofen. My friend did not take the medicine and his headache worsened. So, I knew right then and there that ibuprofen is ineffective for taking away the pain of headaches.

 

Another friend drove a car that kept overheating, so he took it to a mechanic who diagnosed the problem as a broken water pump that needed replacing. My friend did not replace the pump and his vehicle continued to overheat until his engine was damaged and he could no longer drive. So, I knew right then and there that water pumps do not prevent automobiles from overheating.

 

I know man who’s a Christian and he once had a lustful thought about a woman who was not his wife. He also joked around with his fellow employees for about 20 minutes when he was supposed to be working. He earns $36.00 per hour, so he essentially stole $12.00 from his company by failing to do his job for one-third of an hour. In addition, he’s dealt with multiple, ongoing struggles when it comes to loving and forgiving other people. So, I knew right then and there that Christianity is false and it doesn’t work in our lives.

 

If you haven’t guessed already, I’m sharing hypothetical scenarios that illustrate something I see all too often: judging the Christian faith based on the failures of those who follow Jesus, rather than on Jesus Himself. If a Christian does something that God says not to do (or if he avoids something that God says he should do), that does not mean that God is false. What it does mean is that the person messed up and failed to follow God completely.

 

Having said that, for those of us who follow Jesus, this does not mean that the way we live in this world is not critical; it is. I know too many people who have struggled with their faith, and even lost it entirely, because of the way Christians have acted. I always remember the song, “What if I Stumble?” released by DC Talk more than 25 years ago. The lyrics sum up the issue quite well:

 

 

The song takes seriously the high calling of representing Jesus on this earth, as it repeatedly asks the questions: “What if I stumble? What if I fall? What if I lose my step and I make fools of us all?”

 

As the old saying goes, “You may be the only Jesus some people ever see.” This can be a good thing or a bad thing. We can live in a way that doesn’t make sense unless God exists, and thereby shine our lights in this dark world and lead other people to the God we serve. That’s a good thing. We can also live in a way that demonstrates our lack of faith in what we claim to believe. That’s a bad thing and it’s caused too many people to want nothing to do with Christianity.

 

Take the ibuprofen. Replace the broken water pump. Do what God says and avoid what He says to avoid. Live like you actually believe what you say you believe. It means everything for yourself and for the world that’s watching.

 

Troy Burns

On a recent trip down memory lane, I read some old blog posts, one of which began with the following words, written nearly two years ago:

 

 

Those thoughts come from a blog entitled, “Goodbye for Now.” I can write much of the same today, as my girl prepares for her final trek to Arizona in less than two weeks, except this current blog is entitled, “Goodbye Forever?” I’m exaggerating, of course, since she’ll still come home to visit, but she’ll never reside in my house again. I do know that in some ways this will always be her house, but I also know that it’s no longer her home.

 

She’s engaged to a young man whom she’ll marry shortly after graduating from college next spring. I was the first man in her life, but she’ll soon begin her journey with the last man. As I shared earlier, she stole my heart; now her own heart belongs to someone else. And her new married life will be lived in Phoenix, some 1,400 miles away from her childhood home, where we celebrated so many “firsts,” and are now faced with so many “lasts.”

 

But it’s not all sad and gloomy. In that blog from nearly two years ago, I also shared some of what blogger and author Kami Gilmour wrote: “Be fully present to support [her] and look forward to the future through the lens of [her] life, not backward through the lens of my life.” Instead of mourning what I’m “losing,” I’ll do everything I can to focus on how exciting this new stage of life will be for her.

 

It feels like I’m saying “Goodbye Forever,” but in reality, it’s just another version of saying “Goodbye for Now.” And no matter what happens on this earth, since my daughter and I both follow Jesus, we can look forward to the time when we’ll live eternally in a new heaven and a new earth, where God “will wipe every tear from [our] eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4). When that time comes, we’ll never have to say “Goodbye” again, not for now and not forever.

 

Troy Burns

– Mark Batterson in Win the Day

 

That quote has stuck with me since we first discussed it in our previous message series. If we really care about living God’s way, and not giving into temptation, there will be pain. It’s not a question of if, but when. It’s sometimes painful—and can even feel like a sacrifice—to do what God says, and to steer clear of what He says to avoid. But, again, if we truly want to live God’s way, it’s much more painful to give in to temptation and live with that regret. It will hurt either way, but one type of pain is worth it.

 

If temptations were easy to resist, they wouldn’t be tempting. But we know better; we know from too many personal experiences that overcoming our sinful desires is really, really hard. We see in the Bible that temptations are to be resisted (James 4:7), endured, and escaped (1 Corinthians 10:13). We also see that temptations cause suffering and we need help to overcome them (Hebrews 2:18). In addition, the ungodly desires that tempt us are harmful and can lead us into ruin and destruction (1 Timothy 6:9).

 

The writer of Hebrews encourages us to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles,” and then a few verses later, we’re reminded that, “in [our] struggle against sin, [we] have not yet resisted to the point of shedding [our] blood” (Hebrews 12:4). That verse makes it clear that our efforts to overcome sin and temptation launch us into an extremely difficult and painful battle. It calls to mind the struggles of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, just before He was arrested and eventually crucified. He prayed to His Father, God, to take away His suffering, but then He said, “Yet not my will, but yours be done.”

 

Jesus’ soul was overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death, and He dealt with the most severe conflict with temptation that He had ever encountered. He experienced such anguish that as He prayed intensely, His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. Or, you might say, His resistance to sin was so great that it forced His blood through his pores.

 

Of course, in Hebrews 12:2, we see that the unimaginable struggles of Jesus were worth it to Him. He endured the cross because of the joy set before Him. He chose the pain of present-tense discipline over the pain of future-tense regret. For those of us who follow Jesus, we can do the same. We will never have to endure the horrific suffering that Jesus endured, specifically because He already went through it for us. But we can follow His example and fight, with everything we have, against temptation and sin, knowing that while the battle is painful, it is more than worth it.

 

Troy Burns

Hear me, my Chiefs! I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever. – Chief Joseph

 

Perhaps more than any other time in my life, people are divided. They take passionate stances on issues, often moving to the extremes on one side or the other. The most vocal among us speak publically about their beliefs and opinions. They appear to enjoy conflict and express an intense dislike, if not hatred, for those they consider to be enemies on the other extremes of the issues.

 

In the 1993 movie, Searching for Bobby Fischer, a young chess prodigy named Josh Waitzkin refuses to harden himself in order to become a champion like the famous, but unlikable, Bobby Fischer. Josh does end up taking lessons from a former great champion named Bruce Pandolfini. In one scene, Bruce asks Josh, “Do you know what it means to have contempt for your opponent? Josh replies, “No,” and Bruce explains, “It means to hate them. You have to hate them Josh, they hate you.” To that Josh replies, “But I don’t hate them.”

 

I can relate to young Josh in that interchange. There are people who seem to hate me, simply because my beliefs are different from their own. My natural response is to hate them back, but I don’t. I might disagree with them, but I have no personal hatred for them as fellow human beings. In fact, since I strive to follow Jesus, my goal is to love every person the way God loves them, as we learn from the most well-known of all Bible verses: For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).

 

I also know from the Bible that while Jesus was being crucified (not because of a single crime or sin He ever committed), He said to God, Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. If Jesus can ask that for the very people who were killing Him in such an unjust manner, perhaps I can show some grace to those who despise me.

 

It also helps me to remember that while we are in a battle, other people are not my enemies, no matter how much they might view me that way. As we discover in Ephesians 6:12, our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil.

 

What’s more, I have no interest in fighting with anyone, especially not in a public manner where we essentially scream at each other through megaphones on a busy street corner, so to speak. Those who agree with me will say, “Exactly!” or “That’s right!” Those who disagree will not be swayed in the least; if anything, they will push back even harder and treat me more like their enemy.

 

Having said that, if someone wants to sit down with me, in person, and have a calm, rational discussion where each of us listens, seeks to understand the other, and demonstrates compassion, then I’m all in for that. Otherwise, I’m out and I will fight no more forever. Instead, I’m striving to live out the words of the apostle Paul in Romans 12:18: If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

 

Troy Burns

Our country is divided, marked frequently by two opposite extremes. If you don’t believe me, you’re ignorant and probably evil, and I never want to speak to you again, nor do I want anything to do with you for the rest of my life. I don’t mean that seriously, of course, but it seems that many feel that way when it comes to other people with whom they disagree.

 

Perhaps the heart of the problem is that we do not look deeply and honestly enough at ourselves. I remember our beloved former pastor at Sunrise, the late Mark Kent, preaching on a Sunday morning and noting how people often say they won’t attend a worship service “because there are too many hypocrites in church.” Mark’s response was basically this: “No, that’s not true. There’s always room for one more.”

 

As was often the case, Mark delivered some deep truth, mixed with a healthy dose of humor. His point, obviously, was that we’re all hypocrites. There may be different degrees, motives, and intentions, but we all live in ways that don’t line up with what we say we believe. But instead of admitting that and dealing with it, we tend to judge other people for doing essentially the same thing we’re doing.

 

Along those lines, I read the excerpt below from the new book, Uncanceled, by Phil Robertson, of “Duck Dynasty” fame:

 

 

If that doesn’t summarize what we see in our nation and in the church, I don’t know what does! Jesus talked about judging others in Matthew chapter 7, where He said that we will be judged in the same way we judge others. One of the many dangers of passing such judgment is that our own standard will come back to haunt us. To make things worse, when we condemn someone’s behavior, whether it’s sinful or simply different than our own, we almost never use the proper standard of judgment.

 

We tend to judge others according to our own strengths and opinions, and our judgments are based on extremely limited knowledge. We should also recognize the difference between arrogant and humble judgment. I ran across some examples of both kinds:

 

Arrogant judgment says, “I would never do something like that.”

 

Humble judgment says, “Though I may not struggle like they do, I sin against Jesus in 10,000 other ways.”

 

Arrogant judgment says, “I’m better than them.”

 

Humble judgment says, “We both need Jesus.”

 

Speaking for myself, I have enough trouble judging my own motives, let alone someone else’s. And even if I could judge properly, I know that I sin and fall short as much, if not more than, the people who are supposedly worse than I am. With that in mind, I’m deciding to control what I can control: my actions. I want to become a better version of myself and actually live out what I say I believe. I’ll know I’ve succeeded when I’ve earned the best possible reputation with those who know me better than anyone else in the world.

 

This is summed up well by Mark Batterson, who writes the following in his book, Win the Day: “Relationally, success is when those who know you best respect you most. At the end of the day, I want to be famous in my home.”

 

Troy Burns