The Opposite of Eisegesis…

Old habits are hard to break. After living in Red Wing, MN, for seven years we moved to Memphis, TN, at my company’s urging (meaning, my job moved to the corporate headquarters in Memphis). After moving, I still needed to return to Red Wing periodically for factory visits. It was a bit odd staying at the local Best Western located a mile from our old home.

During one visit, after a long day at the factory, I headed to the hotel in my rental car. I drove right past the Best Western to our old house, unaware of the mistake until I drove down the street and saw unfamiliar cars in the driveway. Old habits are hard to break.

Last week I introduced the term eisegesis (ˌī-sə-ˈjē-səs), which is the reading of a text through the lens of what we already believe to be true. The word eisegesis literally means “to lead into,” meaning we speak into the text our preconceptions. The opposite? Exegesis (ek-sə-ˈjē-səs). The word exegesis literally means “to lead out of,” meaning the reader allows the intent the text to “come out,” informing his or her beliefs.

I suspect we have been in the habit of reading scripture though the lens of our preconceptions for so long that we drive right by exegesis and end up at eisegesis. The Good Samaritan parable might be adequate proof of that reality. We have been flying upside down a long time as Dallas Willard would remind us. So, how do we get right-side up? First, we recognize we are at the wrong house, change our mind, and head the other direction (this is the definition of repent). Then we rethink how we approach Scripture. Here are a few simple questions to ask as we invite Scripture to speak into our lives:

  • What stands out to me? How might God be trying to grab my attention?
  • What is being said in this passage?*
  • What is NOT being said? (This is a biggie)*
  • What does this passage tell me about who God is?
  • What does this passage tell me about who I am?
  • So what? What am I to do with these thoughts? How might God be asking me to change my mind?

There are plenty of other questions we could address, but this is a good start. It takes practice. Anyone that has played a sport knows of what I speak. Changing a swing, serve, stroke, or stride takes time, effort, and thought until it becomes second nature. Same with the shift from eisegetical to exegetical Scripture reading. But when it does become second nature, Scripture comes to life, transforming our lives! (See 2 Timothy 3:16-17 and Romans 12:2)

* Case is point: Several years ago I was meeting weekly with a group of college-age young people. We were working our way through the Gospel of John. When we arrived at the well-known John 3:16 (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), I asked them to close their Bibles (or Bible Apps) and paraphrase the verse. They collectively thought the verse was about them going to heaven. None of them saw the word world. None! (And they were also a bit surprised to discover that heaven is not the same thing as eternal life, but we’ll save that topic for another time.)

“You are NOT the Good Samaritan”

Hearing this statement at a Young Life conference 35 years ago set me on the path to discovering the Jesus of scripture. The speaker (I think his name was Bob) wanted the audience to understand that we tend to eisegetically read scripture. Eisegesis was a newer term to me – one of those theological terms that I thought was of no practical use. The speaker proved to me otherwise.

Eisegetical scripture reading, Bob explained, happens when we read the text through the lens of what we already believe to be true. What we read is shaped by our preconceptions. As I took notes, this cognitively made sense to me. I prided myself that I certainly was above reading scripture through such lenses. Then the speaker rocked my world, wounded my pride, and pretty much disrupted everything for me.

Turning to Jesus’ parable we know as the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), Bob showed us just how real and subtly we read eisegetically. I remember him asking the audience, who in the story we most identified with. It seemed like we all figured we were the Good Samaritan, or at least tried to be. I know I assumed as much – after all, that’s what Jesus was asking of us, right? It’s what we learned in Sunday School.

Then the unraveling began. Bob helped us understand that Samaritans were despised (nay, hated) by Jesus’ audience, the Jewish theologians of the day. Some members of the Jewish nation had long prior compromised their charter and beliefs and married people outside their faith and ethnic group. These were the Samaritans. They were called half-breeds and dogs. When people traveled to Jerusalem from Galilee to honor God through the various annual festivals, they added days to their journey just to avoid Samaria. The parable, the story that Jesus told, was in response to a religious expert’s question:

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “What is written in the Law?” Jesus replied. “How do you read it?”  The expert answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.” But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

As Jesus told the story, one could envision the legal expert understanding why the priest and Levite passed to the other side of the road, away from the robbery victim. They were on their way to serve in the Temple and contact with a bleeding person would have disqualified them to do their jobs. It was the law. However, what probably made the expert’s hair stand up on the back of his neck was Jesus’ introduction of the Samaritan as the ‘good guy.’

Wanting us to get the effect of what Jesus was saying to his audience 2000 years ago, Bob retold the story in modern terms. He talked about a pastor or a Young Life leader passing to the other side of the injured man. Then Bob went on to say, “But a Homosexual, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.” The hair stood up on the back of my neck! Not so much because he said ‘homosexual’ but because he had messed with scripture, that he had messed with the neat, domesticated story I was so familiar with. I was no longer the good guy – that was no longer on the table as an option.

What’s more, Jesus’ primary point wasn’t to be a ‘good’ Samaritan. The expert wanted to know who his neighbor was. After hearing the parable, he had to admit that his neighbor was, in fact, the Samaritan (though he couldn’t bring himself to utter ‘Samaritan’), and that’s who he was to love.

Who might Jesus substitute for ‘Samaritan’ today, if he were to tell the story in a manner that might make the hair on the back of your neck stand up? It’s an important question that we may not want to think about. Discovering the Jesus of scripture is a wonderful thing, but doesn’t come without the undoing of our domesticated version of Him or without some angst. But, as I said in the previous post, it’s well worth it!

Sunday School Answers

Billy attended school with me during my early Junior High days. He was in most of my classes. He was also our pastor’s son. He clued me in on something in seventh grade that might have had a larger impact on my life than I might have expected.

We were part of a Sunday School class of all boys (at least, that’s what I remember). I also remember that we were a typical group of seventh graders with built-in ADHHHD. Paying attention to the teacher or lesson was not high on our abilities or agendas (I suspect most of us were not in the class by choice). Billy’s clue was related to our Sunday School class. He told me he learned from his dad that if asked a question by the teacher and unsure of the answer, “Jesus” was always a safe response – a “Sunday School answer.”

One Sunday I was particularly distracted when, toward the end of class-time, our teacher asked me point-blank if I knew the answer to the question he had just asked. I had no idea what he had asked! And I was pretty sure he knew I hadn’t been paying attention – I suspect the question was his way of letting me know. Remembering Billy’s suggestion, I said, “Jesus!” emphatically and with confidence. The teacher looked a bit surprised and said something like, “Yes! And don’t ever forget it!” Class was over. I got the answer right and I didn’t even know what the question was!

“You can’t get second things by putting them first; you can get second things only by putting first things first.” C. S. Lewis, God in the Dock.

C. S. Lewis spoke of first things throughout his writings. Just yesterday I was speaking with someone who had recently stumbled onto one of his essays that pointed readers to first things. I wonder what Lewis’ answer would have been if asked, “What is the first thing?” I suspect he would have said, “Jesus!” emphatically and with confidence. And he wouldn’t have been offering up a Sunday School answer.

Today if asked about the first thing, I answer emphatically and with confidence, “Jesus!” Many would agree with me. However, the answer begs a follow-up question: “Which Jesus?” Sounds like an odd question, but not really. One could be talking about the Jesus of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, whose job is to make us happy and show up when we need him. Or the Jesus of economic prosperity who lavishes us with material blessings. Or the Jesus we draw into our political bents to help us gain control over the ‘other.’ Or the western version of Jesus (or eastern). Or a Jesus whose main role is to simply get us to heaven. These incomplete Jesuses are a result of putting second things first – which is what he can do for us.

The first thing must be the Jesus of scripture, the real Jesus, not a ‘Jesus’ informed by culture, ideologies, or what he can do for us. The first thing must be Jesus only. Period. It takes concerted time and effort to see past the pseudo-Jesuses to the Jesus of scripture. I speak from experience. I can also speak from experience that it is worth the time and effort. It’s transformative.

It all starts with an open, honest perspective of where one is now. So, ponder for a bit: In what ways might the ‘Jesus’ you know be shaped by outside ideologies?

First Things…

“You can’t get second things by putting them first; you can get second things only by putting first things first.”

C. S. Lewis, God in the Dock. (My emphasis)

I first heard this quote about five years ago as part a Sunday morning message by Bjorn Dixon at The WHY Church. At the time, I was wrestling with my dissertation topic as well as looking for ways to describe Jesus’ focal message of God’s Kingdom in ways that not only made sense, but that might lead to transformed thoughts and lives. Hearing this simple statement was an aha! moment for me. It was the missing link for which I was looking (though likely at the time I wasn’t even aware what I was looking for!). It was the cement that brought together much of what I have been processing in recent years (keep in mind that recent years for me has been the past 15-20 years).

Dallas Willard, in his book The Divine Conspiracy, spoke of a young military pilot who was flying her fighter jet through a series of maneuvers. In the process, she got disoriented. In her disorientation, she had been flying upside-down unbeknownst. She decided to take her jet into a climb and promptly drove it into the ground.* Willard suggests that American Christians have been flying upside down for so long, we don’t know what right-side up looks like. What’s worse, we are cruising along at 1500 MPH, thinking we are doing just fine – until we find the need to climb, only to crash and burn. We are all witnesses of Christians that have crashed and burned along the way.

Dallas Willard is onto something worthy of our attention. I suspect that our western-influenced version of Christianity has focused on ‘second things’ for so long that we might not know what would constitute ‘first things.’ I have witnessed this many times over the past couple years. In a number of group discussions with various youth ministry leaders, I suggested we create a white-board list of First Things and Second Things. Invariably, what people suggested as first things were, in fact, second things. We have been flying upside-down for a long time!

Rereading the previous post, one can began to see that Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is a direct outcome of a long-standing focus on second things – like how we are to act, what God can do for us, etc. And a long-standing focus on second things will require more than one blog post. Stay tuned as we continue this discussion…

* I remember this crash that took place in the 90s. It led to creating a gyro-related system to eliminate future such events. Its the same technology that is used in ‘steadycams’ used in film-making.

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism

About 15 years ago, Christian Smith released the findings of qualitative research he conducted, interviewing approximately 3000 high school students (Smith & Denton, 2005).  His summary interpretation of kids’ statements about religious faith and practice: “we suggest that the de facto dominant religion among contemporary U.S. teenagers is what we might well call ‘Moralistic Therapeutic Deism’” (p. 162).  The tenets or creed of this “religion:”

  1. A God exists who created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth.
  2. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
  3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
  4. God does not need to be particularly involved in one’s life except when He is needed to resolve a problem.
  5. Good people go to heaven when they die.

Though this ‘creed’ is particularly apparent among kids with Catholic and mainline Protestant backgrounds, it is also quite evident among Protestants that are more ‘conservative’ in theology and practice.  In their summation, Smith and Denton provide three points worthy of consideration:

  1. Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (MTD) is about the indoctrination of a moralistic approach to life.  Many sermons are moralistic in nature.  “Do good, try not to do bad” is the mantra of a moralistic version of Christianity. 
  2. Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is “about providing therapeutic benefits to its adherents” (p. 163).  Simply stated, God’s main job is to make us happy.  MTD is not about repentance, gratitude, dying to self, building character through difficult circumstances, giving of one’s self to social justice, etc.
  3. Moralistic Therapeutic Deism follows the basic tenets of deism – God created the universe and humanity, defines the general moral order, but is not particularly personally involved in the affairs of humans, especially where we prefer he not be involved. We call on him only when necessary and blame him when we are not happy or when things don’t go our way. Deists view God as “watching over us from above.”

Though Smith’s research is almost 15 years old, it is fair to conclude not a lot has changed in the course of the past decade or so.  Therefore, it is imperative that we be aware of the tenets of MTD as we communicate what following Jesus looks in our culture(s).  We want to help people know Jesus; MTD focuses on what we can get him to do for us.

Reference: Smith, C., & Denton, M. L. (2005). Soul searching : The religious and spiritual lives of american teenagers. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press.

One Small Step…

I am on my way to Albania to serve Young Life in the southern Balkan countries of Albania, Bulgaria, and Macedonia, providing several leadership development educational opportunities. Key to surviving a 19 hour, three-legged trip is Audible and a couple great books. One book I hope to get to is First Man: The Life of Neil. A. Armstrong.

It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college. I remember staying up late into that hot July night, listening on my GE transistor radio ear piece to the broadcast of the Apollo 11 landing. It seemed like Armstrong took forever to finally climb out of the lunar module, Eagle, once it landed. When he did, I got to hear his famous quote live: “That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” I was fascinated with space travel from its inception. I especially followed the Apollo missions. When John F. Kennedy declared, “We choose to go to the moon” during a speech in Houston, I was 12 years old. I was 19 the night of the landing in July 1969. A moon landing was accomplished in seven years. Talk about focus!

There were several Apollo missions to the moon prior to Armstrong’s and Buzz Aldrin’s moon landing. I soaked it all up. I recall the first time an Apollo spacecraft left earth’s gravitational pull and entered into the pull of the moon’s gravity. It was a specific point in space in which the gravitational pull was zero. I remember a count down from Houston: 3,2,1… you are now being drawn in by the moon. Prior to that, the spacecraft’s engines were ablaze as it fought the pull of earth’s gravity. After reaching the zero-gravity point, they could begin to shut down the engines and coast toward the moon.

I suspect had Houston not informed the Apollo crew of the zero gravity point in space, they would have traveled several thousand more miles before they might have noticed. They weren’t focused on the point of zero gravity, they were focused on the moon. Passing through zero gravity was something that happened along the way on the journey to the moon. It’s quite possible they could have focused on reaching that point and ended up missing the moon by tens of thousands of miles.

John the Baptist said, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 30:30). Christ-followers seek that. We would love to get to that point in life where it’s more about Jesus and less about self. Here’s the rub. In our desire to reach that crossover point in our journey where it becomes more about Him, we could easily end up making that our focus. Wrong focus! We want to focus on Jesus and along the way we get to a place where it’s more of Him and less of us. Unlike traveling to the moon, we can’t calculate when that might happen. It’s a natural outcome of focusing on Jesus. It’s metamorphosis all over again. I’d be willing to bet that if my focus is the crossover, I might never realize it. But if my focus is Him, then it might actually happen. If it does happen someday, I likely won’t be aware of it for a few years; not until looking back I realize something changed and I don’t have to strive as much anymore – not coasting, but sort of.

Striking Out a Land

Spring plowing on the farm was one of my favorite things to do. When I was in high school, we plowed with a 39 horsepower John Deere Model ’60,’ capable of pulling a 3-bottom plow, each bottom turning over 16″ of soil. Each spring we plowed about 100 acres, prepping the soil for spring planting of corn and grains to feed our dairy herd. Plowing 100 acres, turning over a maximum of 48″ of earth at a time, meant we plowed over 200 miles at 2-3 mph. Translation: we did everything we could to keep the ’60’ and its plow in the field, weather permitting. As soon as I was old enough to plow, my dad and I took turns keeping the tractor moving. I might start at 4:00a, he would relieve me so I could have breakfast and do morning chores, then my turn after lunch till after evening milking, then his turn until midnight. Efficiency was critical to spring plowing.

Plowing in a straight line was an integral component to efficiency. The key to plowing straight is starting straight – what farmers call “striking out a land.” I don’t know the etymology of the term, but apparently it’s part of farming 101. Striking out a land is pretty straight forward. You pick a target at the other end of the field (i.e., a tree or fence post) and head for it. Here’s the key: Never take your eyes off the target! For anything. Typically while plowing, the operator is always looking back to insure the plow is at the correct depth. Not when striking out a land. Never look back.

My first experience striking out a land didn’t go so well. I was maybe a freshman in high school. I had seen my dad do it many times. I had this. I picked a tree at the edge of the woods on the far end of the field, focused on it, dropped the plow in the ground and struck out across the field. About a third of the way across the field I looked back to see how I was doing. I was doing great – straight as an arrow! I turned back to the woods to again focus on the tree. Or was it a tree? I wasn’t sure I was focused on the correct tree. Looking around a bit, I found the correct tree a bit to the right. Whew! Or was it the correct tree? Nope. I decided the correct tree of focus was a bit further to the right. After a few such iterations, I finally settled on a tree. Another third of the way across the field I looked back to discover that a curve to the right had developed. Course correction. I picked a tree to left and headed toward it. When I got to the end of the field, I had plowed a beautiful ‘S’ curve – not the original intent.

How often do we do we start down a path only to later discover that we’ve missed our original intent? How often have we watched friends or relatives who had every intent of walking with Jesus for years to come, veer off and miss the mark part way into the journey? What happens?

When Jesus, the carpenter who understood farming, wanted to help people grasp the cost of following him, he told them “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Jesus was not making a statement of who’s in or out of the kingdom. He talked a lot about service in his kingdom, as he did here. He’s telling us that to follow him is to put our focus on him and not look back. Look back at what?

In context, Jesus is implying that we not look back at where we’ve come from or at what we have might have left behind when we started to follow him and serve in his kingdom. I also wonder if he might have been suggesting that we not look back to see how we are doing – equally as dangerous. And we all do that. We want to know how we are progressing in the faith. Or, worse, how we are progressing compared to others. No matter why we take our eyes off Jesus, the result is the same – we veer off course. How do we keep our eyes on Jesus?

First, it’s a choice. Life is always about choices and choosing to daily focus on (follow) Jesus is one of them. Second, and of primary importance, is focusing on the correct Jesus. Sounds like an odd statement. In our culture, there are many versions of ‘Jesus’ on which we could focus – the ‘Jesus’ of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (more on that another time), the ‘Jesus’ of evangelicalism, the ‘Jesus’ of the Democrats or Republicans, to name a few. The correct Jesus is the Jesus of Scripture, the one we encounter when we read the Gospels regularly and continuously. With our eyes on that Jesus, we have a better chance to stay the course, to not veer off, to not miss the original intent.


The Monarch butterfly fascinates me. It always has. I remember back in grade school when our class’ pet caterpillar ate all the milkweed we could find to feed it. We watched it shed its skin several times before it hung upside down, shedding its skin for the last time during the pupa stage, becoming a beautiful green chrysalis. We watched with anticipation as the chrysalis slowly became transparent, revealing the butterfly that was developing inside. Metamorphosis. What a great idea! Only God could come up with such an idea.

In the Monarch butterfly metamorphosis process, the caterpillar has but one job – to eat and not be eaten. After eating its fill of milkweed, the caterpillar takes a two-week nap inside the chrysalis. While napping, God transforms it into an amazing butterfly with the same DNA, but a totally different look.


The Apostle Paul, author of the letter to the first century Roman Christians, cautioned his readers not to be molded by the world around them but, instead, to be transformed from the inside out by the renewing their minds (Romans 12:2). The Greek word that is translated as “transformed” is metamorphoo, from which we derive metamorphosis. Paul is telling the readers that in God’s economy, we are to act more like caterpillars rather than straining to become like butterflies. The economy of the world around us tells us we should strive to transform ourselves. Paul reminds us not to become molded by that approach, but to let God do the transforming through the renewing of our minds. But practically, how does that happen? A couple thoughts…

First, we need to learn not to conform. Or maybe choose not to conform. There were a lot of milkweed plants in the pasture on our family farm. I remember watching hundreds of caterpillars chomping away, focused on eating and not being eaten. I also noticed that the caterpillars were not at all tempted to join the cows as they ate the bountiful harvest of wild clover. They were not tempted to conform to what the cows around them were doing.

Second, we need to eat. God cannot transform a starving caterpillar. Nor can he transform people that aren’t taking in the nourishment that leads to a renewed mind. Consider this saying from the February 21 blog post…

If I keep on thinking what I’ve always thought,
then I’ll keep on perceiving what I’ve always perceived.
If I keep on perceiving what I’ve always perceived,
then I’ll keep on seeing what I’ve always seen.
If I keep on seeing what I’ve always seen,
then I’ll keep on doing what I’ve always done.
If I keep on doing what I’ve always done,
then I’ll keep on getting what I’ve always gotten.

This little verse is about change, about transformation. It starts with a change in our thinking; it ends with a transformed life. As we take in scripture, as we continuously hang out with the “visible expression of the invisible God” through the Gospels, and as we listen to messages that help us make sense of what we are reading, our minds are changed and renewed. Our main job is to let God’s thoughts permeate our minds and thoughts. Then, and only then, can God transform our behavior from the inside out. It’s his job and he’s really good at it. When we take the transformation process upon ourselves, we become become self-righteous moralists and are of little value to those around us who need to know Jesus.


About 20 years ago we visited a farm near Baton Rouge with its water needs supplied by an artesian well. An artesian well taps into an aquifer that is under geological pressure. Once tapped, the water comes to the earth’s surface without the need for a pump. The artesian well on this farm supplied all the farm’s needs – house, barn, cattle, and orchard irrigation. No pump, no pressure tanks, all free-flowing.

I asked the owner about the depth of the well. 2500 feet – deeper than they had anticipated. I asked him how long it took to drill. A couple months. I asked him the process of deciding where to drill. He said they were pretty sure there was water down there so they picked a spot and started drilling. And drilled, and drilled. They hit water a couple times, but not quality water, so they kept drilling. I asked him if he was ever tempted to give up and start a new hole. His response? “If we started a new hole, we would probably have gotten the same results and maybe even settled for water of less quality and might have missed out on this amazing, free-flowing water.”

We live in a culture in which we find it difficult to drill deep – relationally, spiritually, or in our careers. We are all in until things don’t quite go our way, then we pull up stakes looking for a better place to start drilling, hoping for better (different?) outcomes. I think we were designed to drill deep, to live with focus and intent.

We serve a God of focus and intent. Read through scripture and you can see this. He initiated the redemption process with Abraham and his descendants and has stayed that course throughout history. Note how often he reminded his people of their rescue from Egypt and their job to be a blessing to the world around them. Note how he consistently told humanity, “I want to be your God, I want you to be my people.” Note his focus on the outsiders, the poor, the widows and orphans. Note how this came through loud and clear through Jesus, “the visible expression of the invisible God” when he rolled out his ‘mission statement.’ Note how Jesus prepared his followers to carry out his mission by focusing on a few – Peter, James, and John, as well as Mary and Martha.

As Jesus charged his followers with the mission of carrying the good news to the world around them, he suggested they do so by emulating what he did. He told them, “as the father sent me, so I am sending you.” It seems to me that if our God is a God of focus, who modeled focus through Jesus, then maybe, just maybe, we might want to learn focus as well. It would serve us well in relationships, spiritually, and in our jobs. It’s how we were designed. God doesn’t intend for us to go wide and try to be everything to everyone. He intends for us to drill down with him and with the people he places in our lives. Focus. It’s transformative. And its one of the most practical things we can do.

Whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life. (John 4)

Practical Theology…

So, what makes theology practical? What makes anything practical? By definition, something practical is focused on the actual doing or use of something rather than theory and ideas. I like theories and ideas. I love theories and ideas. But I am aware that theories and ideas that don’t translate into action can lead to omphaloskepsis (navel contemplation). I remember my dad once saying about a pastor, “He’s so heavenly minded that he’s no earthly good.” My dad was suggesting practicality might have been missing in the pastor’s approach to ministry and life.

Boston University’s Center for Practical Theology suggests that “practical theology” describes the mutually strengthening relationship between the theological learning and the actual experience and needs of Christian communities. There we have it – theology that is practical translates into actual experiences needed to live the Christian life. As mentioned in the first post, a ‘practical’ definition of theology is the attempt to understand God, what he is up to, and then joining him in his work. Practical theology translates into individual and corporate participation in God’s kingdom work – all easier said than done.

So, how do we get a handle on who God is, what he is up to and then, how we participate in his kingdom work? The intent of this blog is the exploration of some answers to these practical questions. We will approach this in bite-sized chunks in a manner that might transform the way we do life – with God and with those around us. The exploration will focus on Jesus. He is, after all, “the visible expression of the invisible God” (JB Phillips Translation). In my thinking, a practical way to begin to understand God and what he is up to comes through paying attention to Jesus’ words and deeds when he took on human form and walked among humanity.

In my thinking, a practical way to accomplish this is relatively simple and easy – by READING THE GOSPELS. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in the New Testament. Not once, not twice, but ongoing. I try to read through them several times a year. I know a pastor that reads one of the Gospels each week prior to beginning his sermon prep. Frequency isn’t as important as consistency. Sustained and consistent time in the Gospels is a transformative experience – ask anyone that has adopted the practice.

Enjoy the Journey