Tag Archives: Grace

Lost and Found

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.”
Luke 15:20 (NIV)

On Saturday morning at breakfast, Wendy read an article about a lamb. She giggled.
She cried out with laughter.
She clapped her hands.
Wendy’s family raised sheep when she was growing up. The article brought back a flood of memories for her. I got a full account of just how sweet and stupid and endearing they can be.

Sometimes, they just wander off.

Last Friday I stepped into the chapter’s context. Jesus, heading to Jerusalem to die, has dinner with a prominent religious leader. His host and the powerful guests gathered there represented the very ones who will execute Him. True to His teaching Jesus literally…

Sat at the table with His enemies.
Blessed them with His presence.
Pled with them to repent.

In today’s chapter, Luke shifts the context. The contrast is stark.

Jesus is gathered with tax collectors and sinners.
But the religious leaders are in the room, too.
Watching.
Judging.
Plotting.

Jesus? He tells stories that land like arrows—soft feathers, sharp tips.

One.

A shepherd has 100 sheep. One wanders.

He leaves the 99.

Let that sit a second.

This is not efficient.
This is not strategic.
This is not… safe.

This is love that doesn’t run spreadsheets.

He searches until he finds it. And when he does — no scolding. He lifts. He carries. He celebrates.

And here’s a tidbit worth savoring:
The sheep does nothing to contribute to its rescue. It is found… because it is loved.

Two.

A woman loses one coin out of ten.

She lights a lamp. Sweeps the house. Searches carefully.

This is quieter than the shepherd story… more intimate. Almost obsessive.

And when she finds it?

Party time again.

And again, this quiet little truth:
The coin also contributes nothing. It doesn’t cry out. It doesn’t move closer.

It is pursued with intention.

God is not just wildly emotional—He is meticulous about finding what is His.

Three.

This is the climax of Jesus’ teaching in three acts.
You can almost hear the music swell…

A son looks his father in the eye and basically says,
“I’d rather have your stuff than you.”

He takes the inheritance. Burns it. Ends up feeding pigs—rock bottom with a side of mud.

Then… he comes to his senses.

He rehearses a speech:
“I’ll go back. I’ll be a servant. I’ll earn my way…”

But the father?

He sees him while he’s still far off.

And then—this is the scandal—

He runs.

Middle Eastern patriarchs don’t run. It’s undignified. It exposes the legs. It’s… embarrassing.

But love doesn’t care about dignity.

He runs.
He embraces.
He interrupts the apology.
He restores the son before the speech is finished.

Robe. Ring. Feast.

No probation period.
No performance review.
No “let’s see if you’ve changed.”

Just… welcome home.

And then—plot twist.

The older brother.

He’s furious.

He stayed. He obeyed. He did everything right… and somehow never learned his father’s heart.

Just like Jesus’ religious critics in the room.

Now here’s where Luke 15 leans in close and lowers its voice.

I am in this story.

Some days I’m the sheep Wendy remembers—wandering, unaware, needing to be carried.

Some days I’m the coin—still, lost in the dust, waiting for light to find me.

Some days… I’m the younger son—running hard, tasting freedom that turns bitter.

And if I’m honest?

Some days I’m the older brother—standing outside grace with crossed arms, offended by mercy I didn’t earn.

Heaven celebrates recovery more than consistency.

Heaven throws parties for found things.

Not polished people.
Not perfect track records.
Not religious résumé builders.

Found things.

Wherever I am…

The Shepherd is already moving.
The Light is already searching.
The Father is already running.

And oh… when He finds me?

He doesn’t scold.

He celebrates.

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

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Two-Sides of Heresy

But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.
Jude 1:20-21 (NIV)

I spent a short period of time at a fundamentalist school. It was one of the strangest, yet most profitable, experiences of my life. The school was rabid about doctrinal purity—so rabid that purity itself became an idol.

Doctrinal purity, the schools doctrine, was of utmost importance.
Honest inquiries were squelched and treated as suspicious behavior.
Professors were questioned at the risk of being labeled a troublemaker.
Professors graded papers like it was a witch-hunt for heresy.

Behavioral control became the fruit, rooted in thought control.

Today’s brief trek through the letter of Jude is an apt follow-up to our trek through Peter’s letters. They all address a growing problem within the exploding Jesus Movement of the first century. There was no New Testament yet—it was still being written. There were no formal institutions of Christian education, people were learning from listening to eye-witnesses of Jesus and reading their letters. It was organic and fluid, and that made it susceptible to individuals who leveraged the moment for their own personal gain.

The early Jesus movement was all about selflessness and generosity. They took care of the physical needs of others. And, whenever you start giving stuff away for free, you’ll attract those who see an opportunity to get something for nothing.

Even Jesus saw that the crowds weren’t following Him for spiritual food—but for free filet-o-fish sandwiches. He called them out for their skewed motivations. Then He told them the next course would be His flesh to eat and His blood to drink. The crowds walked away. Even Jesus’ inner circle of followers began to question.

Now, it’s the followers of Jesus handing out the fish sandwiches, but the result is the same.

Human nature doesn’t change.

Once more attracting a crowd that includes individuals with selfish motives. Paul dealt with it. Peter dealt with it. Jude is dealing with it.

Some of these con-men were in it for the money. They pretended to be preachers and apostles so that the local gathering of Jesus’ followers would invite them in, give them shelter, feed them, and even pay them.

Others were taking the teaching of Jesus to justify other appetites.

They distort grace into license.

Grace becomes permission.
Mercy becomes indulgence.
Freedom becomes appetite.

The sensual temptation is subtle:
“God forgives. So indulge.”
“God understands. So indulge.”
“God is love. So indulge.”

Jude calls this out. Then he taps zakhor memory and provides a historical list of examples. Israel in the wilderness, rebellious angels, and Sodom and Gomorrah.

Jude reminds his readers, reminds me, that Jesus calls us to a radical grace and a radical holiness that hold a tension for disciples of Jesus. When either is severed from the other, disaster follows.

Grace without holiness becomes indulgence.
Holiness without grace becomes cruelty.

Jude fights to keep them married. And, that is the heart of Jude’s letter as he contends against the self-justified indulgence of greed and sensual appetites that are rampant among the early Jesus Movement.

But, here is where I find our enemy gets even more cunning in the chess match with those who would follow the Truth. For intellectual pride and control of others is as destructive an appetite as pleasures of the flesh. Even well-intentioned believers can indulge those subtler appetites.

The heresies Jude writes about become a license for thought control and theological witch hunts.

Purity of thought gets layered like frosting over purity of behavior.

Freedom in Christ becomes shackled in the prison of fundamentalist rule-keeping and thought policing.

One type of heresy gives birth to another on the opposite side of the spectrum. I have flirted with both extremes at different points along my journey.

Human nature doesn’t change.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself back at the point of tension between these two heretical extremes. That’s where I find Jude landing as he finishes his letter to all who would sincerely follow Jesus as disciples.

  • Build yourselves up in your most holy faith.
  • Pray in the Holy Spirit.
  • Keep yourselves in God’s love.
  • Wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Notice the verbs.

Build.
Pray.
Keep.
Wait.

Active. Relational. Expectant.

This isn’t passive drift. It’s muscular devotion.

Not everyone wandering is a wolf.
Some are just confused.
Some are seduced.
Some are singed but salvageable.

Discernment without mercy is brutality.
Mercy without discernment is naïveté.

Jude calls me to both as I walk among those across both sides of the spectrum. And, having walked this spiritual journey for over 40 years, I can tell you that those on both sides of the heretical spectrum are always around.

Human nature doesn’t change.

I found, however, that there is redemption of that human nature available to me by grace through faith in Jesus, who then calls me to:

Radical grace and radical holiness.
One more day on the journey, I choose to hold the tension.

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

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A Step Toward Refuge

If the Lord your God enlarges your territory, as he promised on oath to your ancestors, and gives you the whole land he promised them, because you carefully follow all these laws I command you today—to love the Lord your God and to walk always in obedience to him—then you are to set aside three more cities.
Deuteronomy 19:8-9 (NIV)

As Wendy and I sit in the morning and peruse the news of the day I’ve observed a distinct difference between us. Wendy regularly wades into the comments that readers make to the article or editorial she’s just read. She finds it interesting to gauge response to the topic or opinion. Wendy is an Enneagram Type Eight. For Eights, conflict is a form of intimacy.

I, on the other hand, rarely look at the comments. As an Enneagram Type Four, contention can quickly lead me to despair. When I read comments I find so many thoughtless words, hasty judgments, and seeds of anonymous hate spewed on the digital page. It leaves me desiring my morning shower.

I had the honor of delivering the message yesterday among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. We’re launching a year-long theme that, looking back at my spiritual journey, I find doesn’t get much play these days.

Refuge. Specifically, Refuge Over Rejection.

Where do I run when I need mercy, grace, and a shelter from the storm?

I find it fascinating that thousands of years ago God made refuge a cornerstone of the community He designed and called for to be implemented among His people. In a moment of synchronicity, “refuge” appears once again in this morning’s chapter.

God through Moses reminds His children, just preparing to cross into the Promised Land, that they are to quickly establish three cities of refuge—spread equidistant across the geography. These cities must be accessible to everyone. They must be clearly marked. The roads leading to them must be clear and easily trodden.

God paves the way to grace.

Mercy has an address.

The chapter goes on to mention that accusations must be corroborated by two or three witnesses. These are not exclusionary sections of the chapter. There is a thread of thought God is weaving through His refuge design. As I meditated on the chapter I came to realize that this divine justice system allows for time.

Rage does not get the final word.
Truth must be corroborated.
Witnesses must agree.
The community must slow down before rendering judgment.

As I pondered this, my mind quickly returned to our digital age and all those comments. Instant news, trending topics, and billions of people with laptops, tablets, and smart phones. We can broadcast our momentary rage, venomous thought, hasty judgment, vengeance, and condemnation to the entire world 24/7/365. And it can all be done behind the anonymity of a username.

As I meditated on the stark contrast between God’s ancient design and our modern Twitter-esque technology, I found both wisdom and solace in the former. The latter strikes me as a modern day Tower of Babel constructed of server farms and cell towers – ending in confusion, chaos, division, and babbling voices that offer no peace, no mercy, no grace, no refuge.

Finally, my thoughts landed on the fact that God calls for three cities of refuge to be established, though the total number in God’s ultimate Promised Land blueprint was six. In other words, God is calling for phased mercy. He doesn’t want His people to wait until the land is completely settled. He wants them to quickly take the first step toward refuge.

Yesterday, as our worship concluded there was an unexpected outpouring among our local gathering. It appeared that everyone in the room was ready to take a step toward refuge. Perhaps I’m not the only one weary of our modern world and culture of Babel.

As our local gathering sets off on our year-long road to refuge. As I set off on this another work week at the beginning of a new year, my soul is mulling over the answers to a few questions surfaced in the quiet:

Is the road to mercy in my life clear—or cluttered?
Do people know how to reach grace through me, or do they hit barricades of judgment and suspicion?

Do my words shelter truth—or endanger it?
False witness isn’t just perjury. It’s gossip. Spin. Tweets. Convenient silence.

Do people find refuge in my presence?
Am I a safe place where people know they will be seen, heard, and loved?

I serve a God of refuge. This morning’s chapter reminds me that from ancient days, God has made being a refuge a priority for His people. I endeavor today, this week, this year, to take steps towards that calling.

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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“Because You Were Foreigners”

He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.
Deuteronomy 10:18-19 (NIV)

I dropped my car off to be serviced yesterday. I was given a ride home and had a very enjoyable conversation with the young man who was tasked with driving me. He was raised in a very different place and culture and was obviously getting used to the quirks of living in a community built by Dutch settlers. He asked if I was from Pella.

I laughed.

With the last name Vander Well, I told him that he had made a safe assumption. Then I informed him that when I moved into the community over 20 years ago, it was obvious that everyone who was from Pella knew that Vander Well is not a Pella Dutch name. My great-grandfather settled in northwest Iowa.

I am of the third generation of a Dutch immigrant in America. I live in a community settled and created by Dutch immigrants. As I’ve studied the history of the great Dutch migration in the 19th century and the history of our community, I’ve discovered a double-edged sword.

On one hand, there is a lot for which to be grateful. There is a legacy of faith, industriousness, frugality, and pride. These are the foundation of an amazing community and heritage we perpetually honor and celebrate. On the other edge of the sword is self-righteousness religiosity, legalism, judgement, and prejudice. I’ve heard many painful stories. Individuals outcast and ostracized. Divisions leading to hatred and resentment. Outsiders unwelcome.

Welcome to humanity.

Moses is leading a similarly human people, which is why in yesterday’s chapter he reminded them three times that God’s choosing them and giving them the Promised Land was not because they earned it or deserved it. Quite the opposite, they had perpetually proven themselves stubborn, whiny, ungrateful, disobedient, and faithless. Which is why today’s chapter is so powerful.

God tells Moses to chisel out two stone tablets to replace the ones he’d smashed. It’s God saying, “Come back up the mountain. I’ll make you a copy of the Ten Words. Oh, and bring a box, an ark, to provide a womb for my Words.”

Second chances. Their brokenness and failure does not negate God’s love, His covenant, or His gracious faithfulness. He is going with them. He will live among them, smack-dab in the middle of their camp. He will fulfill His plans for them, work His purposes through them, and deliver on His promises to give them possession of the land. All this despite them being stubborn, whiny, ungrateful, disobedient, and faithless.

This is the gospel before the Gospel.

The chapter then shifts. In light of God’s grace and mercy what does He ask of His people?

This is the heart of God and the heartbeat of His Great Story. This chapter is what Jesus channels and quotes repeatedly.

Circumcise your hearts. This isn’t about religious observation, but about transformation of spirit that leads to grateful love of God and the tangible love of others.

Love God. Love others. Jesus said those two commands summed up the whole of the Law of Moses.

Then God reminds His people – again – that if they are going to truly love others they need to love the ones He loves. The orphan. The widow. The outcast. The foreigner. The immigrant. The outsider.

Moses is building on zachor – moral memory – that flowed through yesterday’s chapter. God whispers: “Remember your chains. Remember your story – your history – being foreigners and slaves in the land of another people. Treat foreigners among you with the love, grace, and hospitality you wished Egypt had shown you. Be different. Follow my ways, not the ways of the world.”

As I meditated on these things in the quiet this morning, I was amazed at how much it resonated with our current culture and headlines. Borders, immigration, ICE raids, deportations, foreigners, and migrant workers fill never ending news cycles. Ancient Hebrews. 19th century Dutch settlers. 21st century foreigners and immigrants. What goes around comes around.

Welcome to humanity.

I don’t control national policy. I live far from my country’s borders. But, I can take to heart what God asks of me. The very thing He asked of His people through Moses. Love Him. Love others. Especially those who aren’t like me.

As we pulled into the driveway of our home, I thanked my young chauffeur sincerely. I wished him well. He was from a very different place, a very different people, and a very different heritage. He was a fine young man. I liked him a lot. He’s going to do really well here in our community. We’re fortunate he’s here, even if his name makes it obvious that he’s not from around here.

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

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Stiff-Necked, Still Chosen

Understand, then, that it is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people.
Deuteronomy 9:6 (NIV)

Yesterday’s post faded to black with me and Wendy sitting at the breakfast table naming our blessings and whispering after-meal blessing of gratitude. If I’m not careful, this chapter-a-day journey too easily compartmentalizes each chapter. While I love the rhythm of letting one chapter speak in to my day, I try not to forget that there is a flow to the text. Yesterday’s chapter and today’s chapter are connected.

Yesterday’s chapter and my meditations fit hand-in-glove with the Christmas season. My soft heart loves Christmas. Every day brings cards and photos of family and friends we don’t see often enough. With each one are fond memories and good feelings. Wendy and I have been watching beloved Christmas movies (yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie) and feeling all the feels. Family gatherings are planned. I can feel the desire to be together, to name our blessings, and to feel the gratitude.

This is sentimental remembering. Warm feelings, meaningful memories, and full hearts that feed the positive emotional endorphins. That’s where I exited yesterday’s post.

Today’s chapter, however, channels a very different kind of remembering.

Moses stands at the Jordan River with this next generation of Hebrews gazing across at the Promised Land. They are about to cross over and take possession of it while Moses stays behind and takes his final earthly breath. They will take the land. They will be blessed. They will prosper. But, Moses tells them, there is a truth that needs to sink deep into their hearts before they set out. It is a truth so spiritually vital that Moses repeats it three times like Jesus asking Peter three times: “Do you love me?”

…do not say to yourself, “The Lord has brought me here to take possession of this land because of my righteousness.” (vs. 4)

 It is not because of your righteousness or your integrity that you are going in to take possession of their land… (vs. 5)

Understand, then, that it is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people. (vs. 6)

Moses then painfully and deliberately hits the rewind button:

Golden calf.
Stiff necks.
Tablets shattered like dropped china.
Tear-stained intercession that kept the nation from annihilation.

The message lands bare and unflattering:

You didn’t earn this.
You didn’t deserve this.
And you still don’t.

Which—oddly enough—is very good news.

This is what is known in Hebrew as zakhor—not memory as the emotional fog of sentimentality, but memory as moral restraint.

It is Cain remembering the stain of his own brother’s blood on his hands.

It is Abraham remembering the painful casting away of Hagar and his son Ishmael.

It is Israel remembering that he was a deceiver who stole his brother’s blessing.

It is Moses remembering his murder of an Egyptian overseer, fleeing for his life, and his years of living on the lam in Midian exile.

It is David remembering his adultery with Bathsheba, his murder of her husband, and the death of their first-born child.

It is Paul seeing the face of Stephen and all of the other believers he persecuted and had executed before he met Jesus on the road to Damascus.

It is me remembering my long list of moral failings. Failings that trace all the way back to being a five-year-old stealing all the envelopes of Christmas cash off of Grandma Golly’s Christmas tree and hiding them in my suitcase.

In the quiet this morning, sentimental twinkle-light memories get balanced with the sobriety of zakhor memories. Moral memory isn’t shame, it’s schooling. It’s not reproach, it’s reinforcement of reality.

All of this abundance of blessing that surrounds me each day? The blessing that is so abundant that I sometimes forget that’s it’s a blessing?

I didn’t earn this.
I didn’t deserve this.
And I still don’t.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.”

Moses is channeling the Gospel of Jesus 1500 years before Bethlehem.

As I soak in a little moral remembering this morning, I find my heart humbled. Like the Hebrews standing on the border of the Promised Land, I find myself chosen, called, and blessed – not because of who I am and what I’ve done but despite it.

Sometimes the fog of sentimental remembering lulls me into thinking that blessing is an entitlement. Moral remembering cuts through the fog and grounds me in the reality of His grace.

As Bob Dylan sings,
“like every sparrow fallen,
like every grain of sand.”

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

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Final Message

Now, Israel, hear the decrees and laws I am about to teach you.
Deuteronomy 4:1 (NIV)

There is a seriousness about Life that takes stage whenever Death is standing in the wings. I’ve experienced in hospitals and the rooms of hospice. I’ve observed it in homes where families tend to their loved one’s final days. The seriousness can take many different forms, but I find that they are always holy moments.

I find it important as I meditate on the chapters of Deuteronomy to remember that this entire book is one of those holy moments. Death is standing on the banks of the Jordan River in wait for Moses. Moses is ancient. His body is decimated with age. His face is lined with the stress of decades of leadership. Deuteronomy is Moses taking the face of his people lovingly in his withered hands and looking them in the eye one last time. These are the words of his deathbed.

“Listen,” he is whispering with final breath earnestness. “No. Really listen to me.”

When Moses uses the word “hear” it is the Hebrew word shema. It is more than auditory reception. Shema is listening with your heart as well as your ears. It’s hearing channeled into action. It is listening that love transforms into obedience. It’s the same Jesus asked whenever He said, “Those who have ears to really hear, hear this….”

Suddenly, the words of today’s chapter have another layer of meaning. They are the love-filled plea of the man who has given everything to lead his people. I don’t just want to read the words. I want to shema what Moses is communicating in this holy moment as I see Death standing in the background along Jordan’s shore.

Guard the appetites of your heart. Moses begins with a plea to his people to guard their hearts. They serve a living God. They’ve seen what He can do. They’ve heard His voice though they saw no form. There is no form that can adequately represent His being. So don’t fashion idols for yourselves and bow down to animals, or people, or the sun. Don’t give your love and devotion to things that can never love you back.

Be ever aware of God’s nearness. God is with them. He’s pitched His tent in the center of their camp. He goes before them. He goes with them. He is not god up above somewhere. God is always right here, right now.

Remember. Remember. Remember. Moses repeats the word over and over again.

Remember the fire on the mountain.
Remember the voice with no form.
Remember the covenant.
Remember who rescued you.
Remember who claimed you.

Memory is a mentor. The moment you begin to forget you are one step closer towards being lost. Then Moses prophetically foresees that his children, whom he knows all too well, will indeed lose their way.

Home awaits every prodigal. He wraps up his message by reminding them that no matter how far they wander, no matter how badly they lose their way, God is waiting. He’s not waiting with crossed arms but arms that are open. It doesn’t matter what distant pig stye they find themselves mired in. If they, like the prodigal, will seek Him with all their heart they will find Father God there on the porch at home with his eyes glued to the driveway. He just waiting to welcome the prodigal home and celebrate His lost child’s return.

I feel a weight in my meditations in the quiet of my home office this morning. Placing my feet in the sandals of a child of Israel standing along the Jordan River listening to Moses’ heartfelt final plea gives the words added potency. Suddenly the message is more meaningful. Life suddenly gets more serious whenever Death is near.

The neighbor’s diesel pick-up truck has begun to idle across the street. It’s my daily reminder that it’s time to move out of the quiet and into all that awaits me on the calendar and task list of the day. Thankfully, I’m unaware of Death being anywhere nearby today. Nevertheless, I head out with the heart of Moses’ message informing how I want to go about whatever awaits me.

Have a great day, my friend.

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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My Forever High Priest

Therefore [Jesus] is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.
Hebrews 7:25 (NIV)

I ran into an acquaintance the other day who I hadn’t seen in months. Immediately upon seeing them I felt shame pouring out of my soul and filling every nook and cranny of my mind and body.

The last time I’d run into this person, I greeted them and called them by the wrong name. They said nothing and didn’t react negatively in any way, but by the time I realized my mistake it was too late. It was out there and there was nothing I could do about it. The flood of shame poured through me like a tidal wave whispering its toxic messages…

“Tom, you’re such an idiot.”
“You’ve just embarrassed yourself.”
“They’re going to forever remember this mistake.”
“You’re terrible with names, you dolt. Seriously, major flaw.”

As soon as I saw this person the other day, my shame brought me right back to that moment from months ago and flooded me with the same reminders of my hopelessly flawed worthlessness.

Welcome to the inner world of a shame-based person.

Today’s chapter is thick with theology and history. At the heart of it the author of Hebrews is addressing a Jewish religious issue. The Messiah was supposed to be both King and Priest. But the royal line came from King David who was from the tribe of Judah. The priestly line in the Law of Moses came from Aaron who was from the tribe of Levi. So, how can the Messiah be both?

The author explains that the priesthood of Aaron was a human priesthood tied to the Law of Moses. The Law of Moses was a set of rules and regulations. Rules and regulations don’t perfect a person. Laws may dictate social behavior, but it doesn’t spiritually transform a person within. The Law may dictate that I not steal, and you certainly won’t catch me shoplifting. That same Law does nothing to address the greed that motivates me to cheat on my tax return or be miserly in tipping those who serve me at the restaurant.

And, as a shame-based person, I can tell you that shame will doggedly remind me what a worthless wretch I am. I shared with you how bad it was when I simply forgot an acquaintance’s name. Imagine what shame does with my life-long list of tragic mistakes from stealing the Christmas cash off the Christmas tree when I was a child to cheating on my first wife to the failure of my first marriage. And those are just the high points. Trust me, there’s a lot more.

The author of Hebrews explains that Jesus is the High-Priest from an older, mysterious, eternal priesthood that predates Moses and Aaron. The royal priesthood of Melchizedek (which means “King of Righteousness”) who was King of Salem (from “shalom” meaning “Peace.”).

The priesthood of Aaron made repeated temporal sacrifices.
Jesus made the ultimate eternal sacrifice once for all.

The priesthood of Aaron was tied to human genealogy.
Jesus was part of a priesthood tied to eternity.

The priesthood of Aaron was “weak and useless” at dealing with sin.
Jesus’ sacrifice graciously paid for sin.

The priests of Aaron all died, their priesthood ended.
Jesus lives eternally to intercede perpetually on my behalf.

For someone constantly plagued by the shame of never being enough, the truth of this means everything.

I have a forever-advocate.

Not a priest I wore out with my mistakes.
Not a spiritual leader who retires, moves away, burns out, and dies.
Not a friend who tries to carry my burdens and eventually buckles.

But Christ —
holy and tender,
pure and powerful,
alive and attentive —
always interceding for me.

Every breath:
“Father, this one is mine.”

Every stumble:
“I’ve already covered that.”

Every anxious heartbeat:
“I am here. Still. Always.”

In a world of revolving doors, shifting loyalties, and fragile leaders, Hebrews 7 invites me to rest the weight of my shame on the only One who never steps away from His post.

I am held.
I am represented.
I am beloved, eternally.

And this morning, I walk into my day knowing Christ is already interceding on my behalf.

A better covenant.
A better hope.
A forever priest who doesn’t quit.

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

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Cities of Refuge

“The accused must stay in the city of refuge until the death of the high priest; only after the death of the high priest may they return to their own property.
Numbers 35:28 (NIV)

Our city of Pella here on the Iowa prairie has an incredible history. It was created by a Dutch pastor and his congregation who were fleeing religious persecution from the state church in the Netherlands. It was named Pella after an ancient city called Pella that was a “city of refuge” and to which early Christians fled from persecution and an impending war in Jerusalem between the Jews and Romans.

In today’s chapter, God commands Moses to create six evenly distributed towns throughout the Promised Land where the tribe of Levi would settle. Remember, the Levites were responsible for maintaining God’s traveling tent temple and the overseeing the entire on-going sacrificial system. God was their inheritance, not a plot of land. Nevertheless, they needed a place to live, so six cities were created for the Levites and God designated them “cities of refuge.”

In the entire history and development of human civilization, today’s chapter stands as a critical and revolutionary step forward. Other ancient cultures had largely undeveloped policies regarding sanctuary for the accused. God didn’t invent the idea of sanctuary out of thin air in today’s chapter, but He transformed a scattered, uneven practice into a theologically rich, justice-mercy structure that was unique to Israel and transformed the principles and policies of human justice.

There were six cities evenly distributed. The cities were Levite towns, meaning that the accused was under the protection of the priests and both mercy and justice were viewed directly as coming from God’s appointed representatives. The accused could not leave the walls of the city of refuge until the death of the high priest, so fleeing from an avenger was not just a blank check of forgiveness. There were boundaries to which the accused must adhere. There was also a very clear system that God put in place that required witnesses and a form of due process. Humanity had never seen anything like it.

Cities of refuge became a part of the human landscape and they have had a ripple effect throughout history. The early Jesus Movement largely survived and flourished because of a prophecy in which Christians were instructed to flee to ancient Pella. Had they stayed in Jerusalem, they may have been wiped out when the Romans destroyed the temple and city in 70 A.D.

In the 1800s, H.P. Scholte realized that there was little or no future for his largely poor, uneducated, and lower-class congregation members. He and his flock had no freedom of religion. He had already been imprisoned for obeying his conscience and defying the king who was head of the state controlled church. Scholte saw America for what it was, a land of opportunity where he and his followers were free worship however they wanted and where poor uneducated farmers might make a life for themselves and their descendants that would have been impossible in the Netherlands. So, he dreamed, designed, and built a new city of refuge on the Iowa prairie and named it after the ancient city that saved and launched the success of the Jesus Movement.

In the quiet this morning, as I meditate on the chapter and the history of cities of refuge, there are three things stirring in my soul:

God as Refuge: In both Jewish and Christian traditions, God carves out spaces of mercy in the midst of justice. This life journey contains moments where guilt—intentional or accidental—feels like a crushing weight. In today’s chapter God whispers: there is a place to run, and a God who receives you.

Boundaries of Grace: The city walls of the Levite towns remind me that refuge comes with boundaries. Forgiveness and safety are not license; they invite us to dwell in a different rhythm of life until God’s appointed time of release.

Death that Brings Freedom: For both Jew and Christian, the death of the High Priest as part of the system is key. It’s a reminder that death itself—Christ’s, and one day my own—is not an end but the doorway to freedom.

Grace often blooms most vividly when something old dies and something new begins.

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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Boasting of My Weakness

“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.
2 Corinthians 11:30 (NIV)

Over several years I had the honor to serve several individuals as a mentor and coach as I attempted to help them develop in the art and craft of preaching. To be honest, I’m not sure how effective I was. I honestly think I may have learned more from my protégés and the process than my protégés learned from me.

One of the most simple, yet most profound, lessons that I learned during those years was that people have a desire to hear people who are real about themselves, their lives, and their struggles.

I had one charge who I met with for the first time after I’d listened to him preach the previous Sunday. As we sat down over breakfast he asked me my initial thoughts about his message.

“The thing that came to my mind as I listened to you,” I said honestly, “was that you came across like a lawyer pleading his case to a jury.”

“I am a lawyer,” he said with a shrug.

I had no idea he was an attorney because that’s was not what he did for a living. We had a good laugh together about that.

Over the coming months, we talked about the fact that it is certainly important to know your material and present a strong case. Paul told his protégé Timothy to be one who “correctly handles the word of truth.” At the same time, however, I urged my charge to be willing to share how the iron-clad case he is presenting intersects with his own daily life, his own personal failures, his own personal struggles, his own faith in Jesus, and his own spiritual growth. People want to make an emotional connection as well as much as an intellectual one.

A year or so later, he experienced the unexpected and sudden death of a loved one. He was scheduled to preach just weeks later. To this day, it was the best message I heard him deliver. He didn’t simply deliver well sourced points complete with chapters and verses. He stood there and showed us his raw and broken heart. He talked about how his faith was helping him through the grief. Through his tears he told us what God was teaching him in his pain.

In today’s chapter, Paul continues to address the conflict he’s experiencing with other preachers and teachers who have been going to the local gathering of Jesus’ followers in Corinth and slandering him behind his back. They had been boasting about how great they were and telling the Corinthian believers that Paul was a no-good schlep and they should forget about him.

I found it fascinating that Paul did not present to the believers in Corinth his very impressive resume of credentials. Paul truthfully had a more impressive earthly resume than any of Jesus’ original twelve apostles and likely more impressive than his slanderers. He came from a prominent family of means. As a Roman citizen, Paul had social standing that likely none of the people of Corinth or his critics enjoyed. Only 1-3% of the population in the provinces had Roman citizenship. Paul had been a student and disciple of the most prominent Rabbi and teacher in Jerusalem. Before Jesus called him, Paul was among the most prominent, up-and-coming students of his prominent teacher. Like my friend and preaching protégé, Paul was a lawyer. He knew how to plead a case.

Instead of presenting that resume, however, Paul confesses that he wasn’t the most dynamic preacher in the world and then tells the Corinthians about his sufferings. Paul had been arrested, tried, imprisoned, and brutally punished. He was on the lam, a wanted man who had escaped justice and was wanted in many cities. He’d been shipwrecked three times. He’d found himself homeless, naked, starving, and penniless on multiple occasions. And, he did it all for the sake of sharing Jesus’ love and His message with others. “If I must boast,” Paul writes, “I will boast of the things that show my weakness.

I know that I personally don’t want to listen to a preacher with a polished persona, an iron-clad case, and a seemingly flawless life. I know in my heart that it’s not real. I want to listen to a preacher who makes mistakes, struggles with their weaknesses, and is honest about striving to make a little slow and continuous spiritual progress rather than projecting perfection. I don’t think that I’m alone in this. I know that I get the most feedback from others when I’m vulnerable in a message. When I share about how God is at work in me despite my own personal struggles, failures, and weaknesses people seem to connect more deeply with the message.

One of the reasons that I struggled being a vocational pastor as a young man was that I felt pressure from people to be perfect, or to at least have the pretense to project that appearance at all times. I became a follower of Jesus, however, because I realized that I am flawed and He loved me anyway – loved me enough to die for me. Being a disciple of Jesus has never been about perfection. It’s been about God’s kindness and forgiveness towards me in spite of my flaws, weaknesses, and struggles which then leads to me to grow in His Spirit and becoming perpetually more loving, kind, and forgiving to those around me in spite of their flaws, weaknesses, and struggles. If I ever lose sight of this simple reality, then I’ve completely lost the thread of what it means to be His disciple.

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

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!

Paul’s Pissing Match

Neither do we go beyond our limits by boasting of work done by others. Our hope is that, as your faith continues to grow, our sphere of activity among you will greatly expand, so that we can preach the gospel in the regions beyond you. For we do not want to boast about work already done in someone else’s territory.
2 Corinthians 10:15-16 (NIV)

I began my vocational journey back in the 1980s in full-time vocational church ministry. I shifted for a short time to full-time “para-church” ministry (a non-profit ministry organization outside of a church). I eventually was led in my vocational journey to the business world which is definitely a ministry, but my experience is that it is commonly not regarded as such within the ministry world of institutional churches. Nor was it regarded as such by my own mother who would have always preferred that I got my paycheck from a church rather than a corporation, God rest her soul.

For over 30 years I’ve served various roles in the institutional church as someone who is not a paid staff member, while spending the vast majority of my time and earning the vast majority of my income in the business world. What I’ve experienced as a result is occasional misunderstanding and mistrust. I don’t fit inside the normal paradigm, which I have learned makes people uncomfortable and/or there is confusion about motives, needs, paradigms, and boundaries. I’ve observed that human beings tend to like things operating within simple, well-defined boxes that fit their own comfortable expectations. When you factor in that we’re operating within an institution of faith it can take on all sorts of religious overtones.

Occasionally, the consequence is that I have found myself in an old-fashioned pissing contest prompted by individuals who have questioned my motives, credentials, authority, and sincerity.

I’ve equally observed that most people fail to understand that Paul was constantly experiencing identical struggles.

  • Paul was not part of The Twelve, so he constantly faced opposition from some who felt he didn’t measure up because he wasn’t part of the Movement from the beginning. He didn’t hang out with Jesus by the Sea of Galilee.
  • Before Jesus appeared to him and called him, Paul had been an enemy of the Jesus Movement. He imprisoned Jesus’ followers and oversaw their executions. For some individuals, no amount of repentance or evidence of Paul’s sincere faith were good enough to overcome their nagging mistrust.
  • Wherever he went, Paul didn’t behave like The Twelve and other leaders within the emerging church who were paid staff members vocationally focused on the Jesus Movement. Rather, Paul spent most of his day earning his income by plying his family’s tent-making trade. He learned the trade growing up. He became a full-time religious lawyer in the institutional Jewish establishment. After becoming a follower of Jesus, he went back to his childhood trade and made a living daily at “Paul’s Quality Tent & Awning, Inc.” while still serving the church ministry as an Apostle. Paul did this because 1) he believed and taught that everyone should work and earn their own way and 2) he didn’t want to be a financial burden on the church. People didn’t like this, however. It was strange and made him suspect. It wasn’t the normal way that Peter and the others “real” Apostles do it. I can hear it now: “If he was a real Apostle, he’d be on paid staff. I don’t know. There’s just something weird about it.”
  • Even within the broader circles of leaders within the Jesus Movement, there was a sense of those who were more acceptable, more polished, and more gifted at this or that than Paul. Paul confesses that he wasn’t much to look at, nor was he a particularly gifted speaker. At one point, a kid fell asleep listening to him, fell out a window, and died. Paul had to miraculously raise the boy from the dead (you can find the story in Acts 20). People seem to have perpetually remembered the bad sermon and forgot the miracle.

Today’s chapter is rife with an undercurrent of all these conflicts. Two, make that three, quick observations:

First, three times Paul references “some people.” He’s pointing at those who are questioning and criticizing him. Without naming names, he’s addressing the pissing match that he finds himself in that was not of his own making. It was “some people” within the Corinthian church who were promoting the authority and credentials of people like Peter, Apollos, and others while being mistrusting, critical, and dismissive of Paul. He didn’t ask for this, but he felt he needed to address it. Reading between the lines, Paul seems to have won the support and confidence of most of the Corinthian believers. That said, I’ve learned along my own life journey that there will always be “some people we must deal with.

Second, Paul speaks of not wanting to boast “about work already done in someone else’s territory.” The implication here is that different individuals had taken responsibility for different “territories.” Even when Paul was sent out by The Twelve in Jerusalem there was a distinctive territorial element. Paul was to go to the Gentiles outside of Israel and focused on Greece and Italy. Jesus’ brother, James, took leadership of the Jerusalem territory. Even around Corinth, there appears to have been some territorial designations of those sent to proclaim Jesus’ message and start churches. Even back in the early days of the Jesus Movement there were issues of boundaries, territory, and egos. People are people. There is nothing new under the sun.

Third, I couldn’t help notice that Paul continually uses the plural when referencing himself…

“We do not dare to…” (vs. 12)
“We, however, will not boast…” (vs. 13)
“We are not going too far…” (vs. 14)
“Neither do we go beyond our limits…” (vs. 15)
so that we can preach the gospel…” (vs. 16)

Paul has become a “we” that includes his colleagues Titus, Timothy, Luke, Barnabas, and others. This is subtle, but I also think it significant. Paul is not just representing himself in his letter, but an entire team of people dedicated to the spiritual well-being of the Corinthian believers. Today’s chapter begins with Paul referencing “the humility of Christ.” It strikes me that he exemplifies it in continually referencing that “he” is a “we.”

In the quiet this morning, I find in Paul a comrade who understands some of my own life experiences, like finding myself in pissing matches not of my own making. I also find in him an example to follow in how he handled them with humility and deference to the Lordship of Christ.

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

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!