Grace, Served Neat

What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you?
James 4:1 (NIV)

After yesterday’s post, I spent some time yesterday in introspection. Wendy and I met downstairs in the Vander Well Pub for a happy hour chat. We bellied-up to the bar and discussed some of the things that came out of my prayer and reflection. It was good.

Today’s chapter continues the flow from yesterday. There, streaming beneath the surface text, is the notion of God as intimate partner in relationship. It’s the same heart that God weaves through the entire Great Story. It’s a love story in the deepest sense; God as bridegroom initiating, courting, and pursuing intimate relationship with me.

So, what gets in the way of that intimacy?

I do.

James urges me to continue my honest introspection. What is it I desire? What motives are at work? As I did some spiritual cardio evaluation yesterday, I had to come clean with the fact that I sometimes allow my self-righteous desires and pride free rein when it comes to my attitudes towards certain individuals. Wendy gave me a great example during happy hour last night, that I hadn’t even considered. A person that she has noticed I love to hate. She didn’t need to make a case. The truth was sitting there in plain site. Ugh!

What did James point out earlier? A little bit of sin taints the whole loaf. My well-cloaked hatred toward one individual makes me no different, in essence, from someone spewing anonymous venom across the internet. It’s the same heart condition.

Pride, hatred, judgment, self-righteousness. That’s the way the world operates. It flies in the face of the person I want to be. It’s not the person Jesus asks me to be. And, that has relational consequences.

I can wallow in guilt and shame, but that’s not healthy for me either. It doesn’t accomplish anything but a perpetuation of spiritual dysfunction. I want to be better. I want to move the ball forward. I want positive change that will create more intimacy with God and others.

Here’s where it gets good.

James reminds me that God is not standing at a distance in condemnation of me. He “jealously longs” for me in spirit. He is leaning in towards me with more grace.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

The reality is that Wendy was Jesus at happy hour last night—even as she held up a mirror so I could reflect on what I didn’t really want to see.

She didn’t scoot her bar stool further away from me.
There was no relational stiff-arming.

She leaned in.
She drew close.
She was tender and gracious.

That’s what Jesus does.

He invites me to come a little closer so He can whisper into my soul. The wars in my life—external and internal—are not solved by winning. They’re healed by yielding.

Then Jesus, through James, reminds me in today’s chapter to:

  • Name my desires honestly (even the embarrassing ones).
  • Release the illusion of control (that tight grip is killing the mood anyway).
  • Kneel without theatrics—no performance, just presence.
  • Return to God not as a failure, but as a lover who wandered and came home.

Humility is not humiliation.
It is intimacy without pretense.

And grace?
Grace is Jesus lifting my chin, meeting my eyes, and smiling and saying…

“I love you. Come on — let’s move forward.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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Diagnosis I Didn’t Ask For

With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be.
James 3:9-10 (NIV)

Wendy and I were on our way to worship this past Sunday morning. We were having a conversation about an individual who had made some major mistakes in leadership which led to many painful and widespread consequences.

“They were worthless at the job,” I said as I drove.

“Let’s say they were ‘incapable’ at the job,” Wendy said softly but directly. “No one is ‘worthless.’”

She was so, so correct.

“I’m trying to be more careful about the words I use when speaking of others,” she then added.

I immediately apologized and accepted my error. I need to be more careful with my words.

This episode in the car with Wendy happened amidst the final editing process of my upcoming book. In the process of editing my original manuscript, my editor pointed out a similarly painful observation. She noticed that I at times used harsh language when I wrote about certain individuals I had encountered along my career. She felt it was important enough that she point it out to me.

“I know your heart, Tom,” she said to me. “And, this is not the person you want to be. I knew you’d want me to be honest about what I’m seeing.”

Ugh. I have a blind spot.

Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Some mornings as I read and meditate on the chapter I have to dig deep to mine what God has for me in the text. Other mornings, it simply jumps off the page and slaps me across the face.

That was this morning.

Most of today’s chapter James focuses on the power of the tongue. It’s such a small part of our physical whole yet it has disproportionate affect. James likens it to the rudder of a ship as it can steer me in the wrong direction. He likens it to a spark that can unleash a wildfire of conflict and controversy I didn’t intend.

As I meditated on it this morning I likened it to a living cardiogram — my words revealing symptoms of heart trouble. Harsh, rash words about others are indicators that bitterness, anger, and contempt have been building up inside like plaque in my spiritual arteries.

And so, I find myself sitting here in the quiet knowing there are some things I need to do.

First, I need to take some time for introspection. I need to ask God to help me take an honest look inside at where some ugly thoughts and feelings about others have been building up inside me.

Next comes confession. As I discover where that build-up of bitterness is hiding and with whom I’m harboring ill-will, I need to use my tongue to honestly speak it out loud to God and members of my inner-circle with whom I know I am safe and am surrounded by love and grace.

Finally, I need to be accountable. A diabetic constantly monitors their blood-sugar to watch for signs of a problem. I need to better monitor my words, especially when I’m speaking about others. Once again, my inner-circle are my best source for that assistance.

I have discovered a problem.
I have been given a prescription.
Now — by grace — I must take the medicine.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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Of Yeast and Fruit

For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it.
James 2:10 (NIV)

Monday was one of my favorite days. Wendy made fresh, homemade Italian bread. The aroma wafting up the stairs into my home office was intoxicating. Whenever Wendy makes Italian bread she always cuts off a slice while the loaf is still warm from the oven, bathes it in butter, and brings it to me.

A little slice of heaven on earth.

The last couple of times Wendy made her Italian bread things didn’t go as planned. She’s not sure what happened. Fresh bread can be finicky, especially in the rising.

From ancient of days, yeast was used as a metaphor for sin. The Law of Moses prescribed that the Hebrews should eat bread without yeast. Jesus warned His followers to “beware the yeast of the pharisees,” meaning that for all their self-righteous pomp and religiosity, their hearts were full of corruption. Jesus didn’t want His followers following a similar path.

Back in the days when everyone made bread fresh at home, yeast was a meaningful metaphor. Everyone knew that a teensy-tiny pinch of yeast will spread through the entire lump of dough, causing the whole thing to rise. In the same way, one tiny sin infects my entire being.

In God’s economy, there is no more-or-less sinful. Sin is a binary measurement. It’s all-or-nothing. If you’re sinful the whole person is infected. No one “has just a touch” of the Bubonic plague.

And, that’s James’ point in today’s chapter as he continues to argue that God’s ways are not our ways. The world loves to play favorites. The wealthy and famous get maximum screen time and VIP treatment. When it comes to the poor and homeless we look the other way and quickly scurry past them on the street. In God’s economy, everyone is measured by the yeast standard. As Bob Dylan sang it, “Ain’t No Man Righteous — No Not One.”

But then James does something amazing. He applies the reverse logic to faith. If sin is like yeast that spreads to the whole lump of dough and causes unrighteousness of all kinds to rise within me, then faith is like a tiny mustard seed that germinates, takes root, grows and bears the fruit of the Spirit. And what fruit does the faith-fueled seed produce?

Works. Deeds. Tangible acts of love towards other human beings that reveal…

Joy.
Peace.
Patience.
Kindness.
Goodness.
Gentleness.
Faithfulness.
Self-control.

James is poking at the very principle he’d heard his big brother preach on many occasions. If a tree isn’t producing fruit that you can see, pick, and taste, then it tells you something about the tree.

A teensy pinch of yeast? The whole dough is tainted.
No fruit on the branches? No faith in the root system.

And this, in the quiet of this morning, leaves me meditating on how desperately I want the measurement of God’s economy to be different. I want sin to be a sprained ankle not a deadly infection coursing through my entire being. I want faith to be measured by the appearance of healthy leaves on the branches. Pay no attention to the fact that there’s no decent fruit to be found.

I can’t do that, and James knows it. I can’t take an honest look at myself in the mirror and pretend that I don’t see the honest truth staring back at me.

I am hopelessly infected by sin.

Jesus’ love-fueled grace and mercy is the only cure.

If I have faith to believe and receive the cure.

It will be evidenced in the tangible outpouring of that love to everyone around me.

Paul told the Corinthian believers that when Jesus’ Love gets inside you and then starts pouring out it creates a spiritual aroma.

I’d like to think it’s like the aroma of fresh baked Italian bread.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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James (February 2026)

Each photo below corresponds to the chapter-a-day post for the book of James published by Tom Vander Well in February of 2026. Click on the photo linked to each chapter to read the post.

A man with gray hair and a beard is sitting at a desk, writing in a notebook. He is wearing a light blue button-up shirt and appears focused. A laptop, a cup of coffee, and papers are on the desk. The scene is illuminated by warm sunlight coming through a window, with a cityscape visible in the background.
James 1: Not Our Ways
A freshly baked loaf of bread with a slice spread with butter, resting on a wooden cutting board, alongside a bowl of butter and fresh basil leaves.
James 2: Of Yeast and Fruit
Close-up of a man's mouth wide open in a scream, with a heartbeat waveform overlaying the image.
James 3: Diagnosis I Didn’t Ask For
Two men sitting at a bar, engaged in conversation, with beers in front of them. One man has long hair and a beard, dressed in a simple tunic, while the other is in a dark shirt.
James 4: Grace, Served Neat
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Not Our Ways

Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position. But the rich should take pride in their humiliation—since they will pass away like a wild flower.
James 1:9-10 (NIV)

I’m in the final edit of my forthcoming book, which tells the story of how I, as a young man, had the unshakable belief that I was called to pastoral ministry and had zero interest in business. Then, God let me slog through six long years of personal purgatory in pastoral ministry and made it divinely clear that He was calling me to business.

That business? Analyzing phone calls. Over 100,000 of them from companies of all sizes and industries. Receptionists, customer support, inside sales, reservations, outbound sales, accounting, tech support, collections, emergency services, and just about any other function you can think of. I’ve learned about business from the inside out, in tens of thousands of moments of truth when a company interacts with their customers.

I’ve been blessed. I’ve done well. I was hired in 1994 with zero experience or interest. Now I own the company.

God has a sense of humor.

Now let me let you in on a little secret. I don’t really like to talk about business, or economics, or finance that much. I love my clients. I love serving them. I love applying my experience and knowledge to help my clients and their employees succeed in listening to their customers and improving their serve. What I really care about is the people. I care about the flesh-and-blood of business where clients, customers, and colleagues connect, conflict, and communicate.

Life has informed my business. Lessons from my business have fed the Life within me. That’s what my book is about. The career I never wanted — and the one God knew would save me.

His ways are not our ways.

Today our chapter-a-day trek takes a quick pass through the letter of James. This is not James as in one of Jesus’ twelve disciples, but rather James the Just — Jesus’ younger brother. He once thought Jesus was crazy, then he watched and listened. He saw his big brother risen from the dead. He became one of the strongest and most influential leaders of the Jesus Movement and was killed for it.

There has been a crackdown. Both Jewish leaders and Romans are persecuting believers, so followers of Jesus have scattered abroad to escape the threat of imprisonment, seizure of their assets, torture, and potential execution. James writes this letter to be copied, sent out, and passed around to all of those who have fled and are living life on the lam.

As I read through the chapter in the quiet this morning, I couldn’t help but pick up on a strong undercurrent in James’ encouragement.

His ways are not our ways.

The world tells us that comfort and ease are what we should strive for, that they are signs of success in life.

In God’s economy, trials and difficulties are profitable — necessary means of spiritual growth and maturity.

The world tells us that money and wealth is the most important and desirable thing in life.

In God’s economy, worldly wealth is spiritual poverty. Eternal treasure is found in contentment. Spiritual investments compound when I humbly find satisfaction with less.

The world views religion as the repetitive ritual motions around a set of doctrinal beliefs.

In God’s economy, true religion is faith in action on the street and in every day life. Caring for those in need. Tangibly loving others at home, in my community, and even in my business where I serve my flesh-and-blood clients and their team members.

His ways are not my ways. I’ve spent my entire spiritual journey learning this truth. In fact, the further I get in this life the more I come to understand just how pervasively true it is in every way. The more I understand it, the more it changes how I see and perceive everything in life.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to work. I have a big research presentation I’m working on for a client tomorrow. Not because of the paycheck it affords me, but because of the people I am called to serve.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Journey’s End

And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.
Deuteronomy 34:5 (NIV)

I mentioned in one of my posts last week that the third anniversary of my mom’s passing is approaching. The dark and cold of winter bring back sense memory of it for me. It is a moment I will forever hold dear; sitting there at her bed with my dad and sister as she slipped into eternity.

Death is a holy moment.

There is a genuine sobriety of spirit one experiences when, in an instant, there is one less life in the room.

Death is also an intimate moment.

My mother gave me the gift of life. To be with her as she stepped through the veil was meaningful in ways I can’t express.

Today’s short and final chapter of Deuteronomy tells the story of Moses. It is more than a simple retelling. Like the moment of death itself, it is holy. It is intimate.

Jewish tradition sees something in the text that is easily missed in the English translation.

al-pî YHWH

Word for word:

  • ʿal – “upon / by”
  •  – “mouth”
  • YHWH – “the LORD”

So the literal rendering is unmistakable: “by the mouth of the LORD.”

The phrase in its usual and common context modifies a command. Priests act “by the mouth of the Lord.” Commands are give “by the mouth of Moses.”

But, Deuteronomy 34:5 is not your usual and common context. We’re not dealing with a command, but the death of God’s man. The chapter is careful to point out that Moses was not frail at the end. He had strong sight and plenty of vigor. He was not failing. He was simply finished with his earthly task.

Moses dies “by the mouth of the LORD.”

As God breathed life into Adam, He similarly receives Moses’ life.

A divine kiss.

Intimate.

Holy.

Then the text continues to amaze as God Himself buries Moses in an unmarked grave just short of the Promised Land to which he led the people but will not enter himself.

No shrine. No spectacle. No packed national assembly. It’s just God and His man Moses. Received with a kiss. God digs the grave. God prepares the body. God buries Moses. Alone.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on what I can learn from Moses in the end.

I will never see the full fruit of my work. I may not watch the final act of the story I helped God author. I may not get credit, closure, or an ovation. Yet, I can still finish this earthly journey fulfilled.

Moses teaches me to let go of outcomes without resentment. He encourages me to bless the next generation without envy. He whispers assurance that I can trust God with the ending I don’t get to choreograph.

God asks me to steward, not complete.

And then—I get to climb the mountain anyway.
To look.
To bless.
To let go.

God will meet me there. He’ll take care of everything.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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The Blessing

“This is the blessing that Moses the man of God pronounced on the Israelites before his death….
Deuteronomy 33:1 (NIV)

This past Sunday I delivered the morning message among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. At the beginning of the message I showed a photograph of our family gathered on New Year’s weekend, just a few weeks ago. The entire crew was gathered at the table for a meal in all the glorious mess of three generations.

The table, the dining room floor, indeed the entire house – they get messy when the whole family gathers. And, I’m not just referring to food crumbs. That was the metaphor that carried through my message. Jesus invites the whole family to the table. It gets messy, and yet He asks us to stay.

In family (both nuclear and spiritual), every individual part contributes to the love of the whole.

Today’s chapter is Moses’ final act. His role as leader-judge-prophet-priest will end with him. His is not a box on the org chart to be filled. A succession plan was never a consideration. There’s no favored son groomed for elevation. Moses does not pout or demand a severance of legacy. He foreshadows and embodies the sentiment Paul would later express when he wrote, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

Moses’ final act is to bless the twelve Hebrew tribes one-by-one. As I meditated on the blessings. A couple of things stood out.

First, in Jewish tradition, blessings are less about forecasting the future and more about naming reality—calling forth what is already true beneath the surface. Moses is not predicting outcomes; he is bestowing identity.

Just as I look around the table from toddler grandchildren to adult daughters and sons. Each is unique. No two are the same. They each, in their own unique identity, bring themselves to the table and with each of them comes a part of the blessing of family.

And, this leads to the next observation.

No tribe is cursed. Even the complicated ones—and, honestly they each have their own “troubles”—are not shamed. Silence, yes. Erasure, no. Where earlier stories carried fracture, Moses now offers healing through words.

And, to me, most importantly: Israel is blessed together. No tribe receives fullness apart from the others. The blessing is communal—interdependent, embodied, shared.

In the quiet this morning, I find the chapter inviting me to do something wildly countercultural:

Receive blessing without scrambling to deserve it.

Moses blesses warriors and poets, priests and homebodies, the strong and the sheltered. Not because they nailed it—but because God chose them.

It’s easy for me to slip into “blessing is a performance review” mode. Others times, my Enneagram Type Four shame whispers to my soul that God’s blessing has been passed out and I was skipped altogether.

Moses says “no” to both lies.

I am blessed before I arrive.
I am carried even when I wander.
I am named even in the silence.

That’s the beauty, and the shalom, that I find in the Great Story. Moses exits stage left. The Story goes on, even to this.very.day.

The God who went before them…
is the God who goes before me.
Jesus invited me to the table, and asked me to stay.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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A Love Song that Aches

Jeshurun grew fat and kicked;
    filled with food, they became heavy and sleek.
They abandoned the God who made them
    and rejected the Rock their Savior.

Deuteronomy 32:15 (NIV)

If you hang out with Wendy and me for any length of time, you’ll soon notice that Wendy is not “Wendy” to me. She is “Luv,” or I more commonly prefer, “M’Luv.”

When I train clients on the art of customer service, I always talk about names. Names are important because names imply relationship, and customers typically desire more than a transaction when they find themselves in a tough spot – they want a personal service relationship.

One of the funny things about names is that the more intimate the relationship the more intimate the moniker we use for the “other” in relationship. An acquaintance might begin being referenced by a simple pronoun. (e.g. “him,” “her”). Relationship is established and names are learned and used (e.g. “John,” “Mary”). When relationship becomes intimate, we create pet names for one another (e.g. “Darling,” “Sweetheart”). Or, in the case of me and Wendy, “M’Luv.”

Here’s what is fascinating. When relationships break down, the cycle works in reverse. Amidst divorce, the woman I once referred to “Sweetheart” is easily reduced to “my children’s mother” or even back to the impersonal pronoun “her.”

In yesterday’s post/podcast I reference about this crazy idea God gives Moses, to give His people a song. In today’s chapter, Moses teaches the people the song. It’s a doozy. It’s less Love Me Do and more Symphonie Fantastique. Epic in length, it has five distinct movements:

  • God is introduced as The Rock—steady, faithful, just.
  • Israel is remembered as the one God carried, fed, and taught to walk.
  • Then comes the heartbreak: prosperity leads to forgetfulness; forgetfulness leads to idolatry.
  • Judgment follows—not as cruelty, but as consequence.
  • Yet the song does not end in wrath. It ends in vindication, mercy, and restoration.

The ancient Hebrews were all about structure in math, literature, poetry, and music. When it comes to song lyrics, the center of the lyrics is almost always the thematic hub and everything expands outward on either side of it. So, notice the center bullet of the summary above. The center of Moses’ Song is:

Jeshurun grew fat and kicked

As I went down the rabbit hole of meditation and study on Moses’ Song in the quiet this morning, two important things emerged for me.

First, the prophesied rebellion of God’s people does not happen out of suffering, trial, or condemnation. It happens when things go well.

Blessing increases wealth.
Wealth brings abundance.
Abundance breeds comfort…
and comfort makes us fat.

It is not in adversity we forget God, but in prosperity.

Yet notice how God addresses them at this central moment He calls them out: Jeshurun.

This is a name that is rarely used in the Great Story, and names are important.

Jeshurun can be translated “My beloved, upright people.” It’s not the common and neutral every day name “Israel.” This is a pet name — a covenantal endearment. It is an intimate moniker whispered between lovers, not shouted in public.

And, that is what makes its use here so devastating.

Despite His beloved’s forgetfulness, rebellion, and infidelity that is at the center of this love story, God does not address her with watered down formality or impersonal pronouns. He doesn’t shift to courtroom language foreshadowing divorce court. He doubles down and addresses her with a pet name reserved for the most intimate of moments.

Jeshurun.

It does three things…

Recalls Identity
This is who you were named to be.
Highlights Irony
The Upright One has developed scoliosis.
The straight one has grown crooked through comfort.
Deepens the Betrayal
This isn’t rebellion by strangers.
This is infidelity by the beloved.

At the heart of it, Moses is saying: “You did not forget God because you were oppressed. You forgot Him because you were satisfied.”

That is the ache of the song.

It is also, for me, a sobering spiritual reminder. Here in the quiet of my office I sit in prosperity and abundance smack dab in the middle of the wealthiest most affluent empire that has ever risen on the face of the earth in all of human history.

If there’s anyone at high-risk for forgetting God, it’s me.

A good reminder for me to carry into my day. A good conversation to unpack over coffee and breakfast with M’Luv.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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“Give Them a Song”

“Now write down this song and teach it to the Israelites and have them sing it, so that it may be a witness for me against them.”
Deuteronomy 31:19 (NIV)

I was scrolling through all the playlists in my Spotify music library the other day. I have a lot of them. I came across the playlist I’d made for my mom towards the bottom. This coming St. Patrick’s Day will be three years since we gathered to celebrate her heavenly homecoming. In a funny way, music became the last language my mother and I shared.

I made a short playlist of favorite songs from her youth. I and my siblings were taking turns caring for her while our dad was in the hospital, and I would play the list while we were in the car driving. Her Alzheimer’s was so advanced that by the time we got to the songs at the end of the playlist she had forgotten that we’d even played the songs at the beginning.

I drove and she sang repeatedly through the short playlist. She remembered every word of the lyrics even as she announced with every repeated song. “Oh! I haven’t heard this song in a long time. This is a ‘goldy oldy!'”

In her final days at the care center she would be visited in her room by music therapists.

“Do you know the the song…,” the therapist would ask.

Mom always shook her head.

Then she proceeded to sing right along with them.

In all of creation, God infused music with a secret super power. It embeds itself in our minds. It sinks into our souls. It attaches itself to memories. As soon as I hear the opening guitar riff of Long Cool Woman by the Hollies I am immediately transported to the summer of 1975. I’m in Cabin #3 at Camp Idlewood on a rainy afternoon listening to music on the 8-track with my sister and the other kids from the camp. I can see it. I can hear the laughter.

There’s just something about a song.

We’re in the homestretch of Deuteronomy. Moses has finished reminding the next generation of God’s Law. He’s written it all down so there’s a permanent record that can be read and remembered. He begins to pass the torch of leadership to Joshua.

“Wait a minute,” God says to Moses. It enters the moment almost like an interruption. “I want to give you a song, and I want you to teach it to all the people.”

Then God says, “It will be a witness for me against them.”

It’s easy to forget laws and regulations written on a scroll that only gets read every seven years.

A song embeds itself in the mind.
It sinks into the soul.
It attaches itself to memory in a way that even Alzheimer’s disease finds itself powerless to erase the tape.

“Give them a song,” God says.

He knows that in forty years when they’ve settled into the land their hearts and lives are going to wander. They will forget God. They will forget what He taught them through Moses. The song, however, will transport them immediately back to this moment on this day by the River Jordan. They’ll see the people assembled. They’ll be able to smell the river. They’ll feel the sun on their face.

God, Moses, Joshua, Torah, and covenant.

When my mother had forgotten my name, she still knew all the lyrics to Sh Boom (Life Could Be a Dream) by the Crew Cuts.

If you want someone to remember. Give them a song.
God did.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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Teshuvah

Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the Lord your God will gather you and bring you back.
Deuteronomy 30:4 (NIV)

As a parent, I always expected that somehow, in some way, my daughters would rebel. I hoped that I was wrong, but I’ve observed the human condition for too long to harbor any pipe dreams. As I contemplated the eventuality of their wandering — whatever that might look like — I came to a realization.

When it comes to what my young adult children do, the only thing I really control is my response.

I figured that I’d better give that some thought ahead of time. I’m glad I did. Yes, both girls had their season of wandering each in their own way, but those are their stories to tell. What I learned along the way was that my best example for parenting was Father God.

Deuteronomy has had some really tough chapters to slog through. It contains some of the most difficult and challenging of the ancient texts. But today’s chapter stands like a breath of fresh air because it gets at the heart of who God is and what God is all about. In short, God tells His Hebrew children that He knows they’re going wander. It’s not a matter of “if” but “when.” In light of this, He wants them to know teshuvah.

Teshuvah is a Hebrew word we translate into English as “return,” but like many Hebrew words one simple English word cannot contain its meaning.

Teshuvah is “return” as in go back where you belong.

It assumes something breathtaking:

You had a place.
You wandered.
That place still exists.
You are still wanted there.

Teshuvah has a rhythm.

First, there is an awakening. Something stirs. There’s discomfort. “Wait a minute. This isn’t who I want to be.” Clarity – not condemnation.

Next comes the turning. It’s not just a change in thought, it’s physical. You’ve reached second base and are as far from home as possible. You’re facing the centerfield fence. You physically make the turn toward third and the path home is right there waiting.

Then there’s naming. This isn’t a wallow in shame, but the moment of truth telling. It’s the first step of the Twelve Steps. “My life has gotten out of control. This isn’t manageable.”

The way is now open to repairing. Own it. Apologize. Make things right. You carry responsibility without drowning in it.

With that, you return home.

Today’s chapter lays out the theology of teshuvah. Jesus turned it into a love story we know as the Prodigal Son. As a young parent reflecting on how I should respond when my daughters wander, I took note of three things about the Prodigal’s father (aka Father God).

  1. He didn’t go to the distant land to condemn his son and drag him home.
  2. He was sitting on the front porch, eyes on the road, waiting for his son.
  3. He ran down the road to greet his son, and escort him home.

Not a bad example to follow, I thought to myself. Trust teshuvah. Love knows the way home. If I’m wise, I’ll even keep my mouth shut. Directions aren’t necessary.

One of our daughters lived in a commune for a season with a very diverse community of individuals from all over the globe. One day she shared with me that as her comrades shared their stories most of them had no home, no support system, and they lived perpetually on the brink of hopelessness.

They had no where else to go.

“I realized,” my daughter said, “that I will never know that reality. I always have a home I can return to where I am loved and will be cared for.”

Bingo. That’s what Father God wants His children to know with all their heart and soul.

Teshuvah.

Shalom.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Promotional graphic for Tom Vander Well's Wayfarer blog and podcast, featuring icons of various podcast platforms with a photo of Tom Vander Well.
These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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Just another wayfarer on life's journey, headed for Home. I'm carrying The Message, and I'm definitely waiting for Guffman.